“Is that what Wally is working on?” Skye asked, realizing the only way she was going to talk to her husband was to tell May about Lynch. “Because, I can trump a break-in with a dead body.”
Immediately, the Fifth Dimension singing “Going out of My Head” blared in Skye’s ear. Before the song’s chorus repeated, Wally got on the line.
Sounding out of breath, he asked in a rush, “Are you okay? Is the baby okay? Did something happen at school? Who’s the deceased?”
Skye assured him that she and the baby were fine, then rushed to explain. “I’m with Dorothy Snyder at Palmer Lynch’s house.” Skye rattled off the address. “Dorothy cleans for him, too. We’re sitting in her Cadillac, but we were previously inside and he’s dead.”
“I take it you don’t believe it was natural causes,” Wally stated.
“There’s a bullet hole in his chest,” Skye answered. “So no.”
“Son of a b!” Wally bellowed. “Are you sure the killer’s not still around?”
“Dorothy claims to have searched the house and didn’t find anyone.” Interrupting Wally’s cursing, she added, “I wasn’t here. She knows it was stupid, but it’s done and we’re now in her car.”
“I’ll be right there,” Wally said. “Sit tight and keep the doors locked.”
“Will do,” Skye agreed, then added, “You’ll want to keep the particulars of this case quiet so you might want to stay off the radio.”
“What—” Wally cut himself off and said, “Never mind. I’ll be there in five. You can explain then. Call my cell if anything happens.”
“Come alone,” Skye warned just before he hung up. She turned to Dorothy and said, “On a positive note, everyone will be so caught up in the attempted burglary at the American Legion, maybe the more salacious details of Mr. Lynch’s murder might not get out.”
Dorothy grunted, then leaned against the back of the seat and closed her eyes. While the older woman rested, Skye called the high school and left a message that she wouldn’t be coming into work and asked that all her appointments and meetings be canceled.
She indicated that her absence be marked as a personal day. There was nothing in her current contract that allowed for time off because of involvement in a murder investigation. Although considering Skye’s past record, she should try to add a dead body clause next time she signed a new agreement.
Seconds later, Wally’s cruiser, without lights flashing or sirens wailing, raced down the street. He pulled the squad across the driveway, effectively blocking anyone from entering or leaving, and leaped from the vehicle.
Skye popped the lock, scrambled out of Dorothy’s Catera, and threw herself in her husband’s arms. He ran his hands over her as if to check for injuries and rained kisses on her face.
Once he was convinced she was okay, he said, “Why all the secrecy?”
Summing up the housekeeper’s call, what happened once Skye arrived, and the condition of the corpse, she concluded, “One way or another, if bondage is truly Lynch’s sexual preference or the killer did this to him to humiliate him, as soon as the details get out, we both know the case becomes that much harder to solve.”
“Of course.” Wally gave her one last squeeze, then released her and said, “Let me go look things over, then I’ll decide how to proceed.”
“Shouldn’t you have backup?” Skye asked. “I know I said to come alone, but—”
“How long were the two of you in the house?” Wally raised a brow, but didn’t wait for her answer before adding, “And Dorothy was there awhile before that, so unless the murderer is dumber than a box of rocks, they were already long gone before either of you arrived. Or at least he or she escaped when you two came out and sat in the car waiting for me to get here.”
“Right.” Skye knew she was being silly. Surely the killer would have attacked Dorothy or her rather than wait for an armed police officer.
When Wally returned a few minutes later, he was tucking his cell phone into his shirt pocket. His expression was grim and he rubbed the back of his neck.
Approaching Skye, he said, “The county crime techs will be here in about forty minutes. Reid is on his way. He was preparing for a memorial service so I caught him at the funeral home. And Quirk will be here as soon as he drops off a witness at her car.”
Sergeant Roy Quirk was Wally’s right hand at the PD. Simon Reid was the coroner and owned the local funeral parlor and the bowling alley—which his mother, Bunny, managed. Unfortunately, Simon was also Skye’s ex-boyfriend.
They had dated on and off for over two years, until Skye thought she caught Simon cheating on her. He’d been too stubborn to explain his actions, and shortly afterward, Wally and Skye became an item. To say that the three of them working together presented an awkward situation was way beyond an understatement.
Skye nodded her understanding, then leaned against the car. Dorothy was still inside and had either dozed off or was now in a catatonic state. Skye hoped it was the former because she wasn’t ready to deal with the latter.
“While we wait, are you up to giving me some more details about what transpired thus far?” Wally asked.
“Of course.” Skye took a deep breath. “I was walking into the high school when Dorothy called me on my cell. She wouldn’t tell me what was wrong, just begged me to come to Palmer Lynch’s house.”
“Where’s your car?” Wally asked, looking both ways down the block.
“Dorothy asked me to walk over, then she hung up and stopped answering her phone.” Skye shoved her hair behind her ear. “She was waiting for me when I arrived. She led me into the house via the patio doors and explained that Lynch had asked her to do an unscheduled cleaning job, but when she got here, he didn’t answer the door.”
“But she didn’t go away?” Wally crossed his arms. “Why in God’s name would she break into a house to clean it?” Skye opened her mouth, but he answered his own question. “Because she was on a tight schedule and didn’t want to disappoint either him or us.”
“Uh-huh.” Skye nodded. “But she didn’t really have to break in. According to Dorothy, she saw that the bar that Lynch normally kept in the sliding door tracks was leaning against the cupboard. She just wiggled the handle and was able to slide it open.”
“So it might not have been locked?” Wally ran his fingers through his short black hair, ruffling the silver strands at his temples.
“That was my thought.” Skye nodded. “When Dorothy led me down the hallway to the stairs, I saw that the front door’s chain guard was in place and figured the killer left through the sliders.”
“Did she show you the body right away?” Wally had taken out a small pad from his uniform shirt pocket and was jotting down notes.
“No.” Skye’s teeth caught her lower lip and worked it for a moment. “Actually, it took what seemed like quite a few minutes to get to the point before Dorothy finally showed me Lynch. That was when I tried to call you, but she grabbed my cell.” Skye shook her head. “Dorothy wanted to put some clothes on him first.”
“Since he was still buck-naked when I saw him, I take it you stopped her.” Wally’s dark brown eyes were warm.
“Yes.” Skye nodded again. “Lynch’s mother is a widow and is a friend of Dorothy’s from church. She didn’t want the poor woman to be subject to gossip. When Dorothy realized there was no avoiding the rumor mill, and that she would probably be tainted by the innuendos, too, she vomited in the trashcan. After she stopped being sick, I was finally able to get her out of the house, into her car, and I called you.” Skye puckered her brow. “Or at least, I tried to call you.”
“Yeah.” Wally rolled his eyes. “The mess at the station.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Shortly after you left for school, May phoned for me to come into the PD. The American Legion break-in has had me tied up ever since. Chantal was working late last night, and when the would-b
e thieves broke into the building, she locked herself in a utility closet. By the time she came out this morning, she was nearly hysterical.”
“She sounded pretty calm when I talked to her.” Skye smoothed her black shirt over her baby bump. “I don’t think I know Chantal.”
“She’s new in town. She just started managing the Legion a few months ago.” Wally didn’t meet Skye’s gaze. “She’s a friend of Emmy Jones. They both belonged to the same dance studio in Chicago.”
“I thought Emmy came here from Nevada.” Skye wasn’t sure how she felt about the gorgeous performer.
“Who knows all the places Emmy has probably lived.” Wally shrugged.
Emerald Jones had arrived in Scumble River after getting into some kind of trouble in Las Vegas. She had promptly flirted with Wally at his gun club, then ended up dating Skye’s ex. Not exactly BFF material. Skye and Chantal didn’t seem to be starting out any better.
Oh, please! What was wrong with her? So Chantal had hung up on Skye, had a sexy voice, and was a friend of Emmy’s. None of those facts meant the woman was trying to seduce Wally. For all Skye knew, Chantal resembled Peppermint Patty more than she did Jessica Rabbit.
Skye frowned. She had never been a jealous person, but some combination of her recent marriage, pregnancy hormones, and Wally being so handsome was setting her off. She needed to stop imagining every woman was trying to steal her man before she turned into a shrew.
Swallowing hard, Skye realized that maybe she wasn’t really jealous. Maybe she was just trying to avoid thinking about the real issues. Palmer Lynch was dead. He apparently enjoyed an alternative lifestyle that would set Scumble River on its ear once the news got out. And Uncle Charlie would be a prime suspect.
Skye blanched. No! Charlie would never do something like this. He might want to remain school board president, even be willing to fight a little dirty for it, but he’d never kill to retain the position. Still, Skye prayed that he’d have an airtight alibi.
Uh-oh. She must have been quiet for too long because Wally stroked her arms and said, “Do you feel all right? I can drive you home.”
“I’m fine,” Skye reassured him. “Just considering what I know about Lynch.”
“Right.” Wally tapped his chin. “I’d forgotten about that business with the pet therapy and that he was on the school board. Tonight, you’ll have to give me the whole rundown on who might have had it in for him.”
“Sure.” Skye’s smile was halfhearted. “It’s a date. Suspects and supper.”
Wally looked at her quizzically, but before he could respond, Simon pulled his Lexus behind the squad car. He jogged up the driveway carrying a black doctor’s case, containing a camera, stethoscope, flashlight, rubber gloves, and liver thermometer. The body bag would arrive with his assistant in the hearse.
As soon as Simon got near them, Wally put his arm around Skye’s shoulder.
At the same instant, Simon took her free hand and asked, “What happened?”
Simon was the antithesis of Wally. Where Skye’s husband was muscular, her ex was lean. Wally’s hair was cut close to his head while Simon’s auburn tresses were professionally styled. But the biggest difference was Simon’s golden-hazel eyes. Even in the heat of passion they were cool and appraising, while Wally’s were always warm when Skye looked into them.
“The vic’s in the master bedroom,” Wally said, stepping back and bringing Skye with him, which caused her hand to slip from Simon’s. “We’ll have to wait for the crime techs to get here before you can move the body, but in the meantime, try to get a time of death.”
Clearly unhappy with Wally’s dictatorial tone, Simon didn’t budge. The two men glowered at each other, and Skye held her breath.
Relieved, she spotted a patrol car driving down the block and said to Wally, “Oh. Look. Sergeant Quirk is here already.”
“Good.” Wally glanced over his shoulder. “He can set up the perimeter.”
“Do you want me to wait in the car with Dorothy?” Skye asked. She rubbed her belly and added, “I’d like to get off my feet for a bit.”
“That’s right.” Simon looked between Skye and Wally. “I understand that congratulations are in order.” His lips thinned. “I see you two didn’t waste any time creating Baby Boyd.” He stared at Wally. “I guess that’s one way to win over your new mother-in-law.”
In addition to Wally’s divorced status and the fact he wasn’t Catholic, his age had been a huge issue with Skye’s mother. May had been afraid that he’d have difficulty producing a grandchild for her.
Wally’s expression hardened, but he ignored Simon’s comment and said to Skye, “Why don’t you just let me drive you home, sweetheart?”
“I’ll wait until you’re through with Dorothy,” Skye said, chewing on her thumbnail. “She pretends to be a tough old broad, but this really knocked her for a loop and I think she needs my support.”
“Okay, darlin’.” Wally led Skye a couple of steps over to the Cadillac, where the older woman still appeared to be napping, and opened the door. “I’ll get Quirk and Reid situated, then talk to Dorothy.”
Skye slid inside the car, but as Wally turned to go, she said, “Wait. Before I forget, Lynch was in church yesterday and afterwards he was making a lot of campaign promises. Once he left, I overheard some of those conversations and people weren’t happy.”
“Another thing for us to discuss tonight.” Wally kissed her cheek.
Simon had followed them and tsked. “May said you promised to attend Mass with Skye. That didn’t last long. Did it, Chief?”
Skye had had enough of her ex and she glared at him. He had moved on. He was dating Emmy Jones. What was his problem?
CHAPTER 7
Beware of people who dislike cats.
—IRISH PROVERB
Dorothy opened her eyes when Skye got into the car. However, as soon Skye started to tell her what was happening, she quickly closed her lids and turned away. Understanding that the distraught woman wasn’t ready to face the situation, Skye swiveled her head and gazed out of the Caddy’s back window.
Because it was a weekday morning, most of Lynch’s neighbors were at work. But the few who were present were intent on finding out what had happened.
Less than a minute after the arrival of the second squad car, an older couple had taken seats on their porch to watch the show. Next, a woman and toddler came outside and sat on their front steps. That twosome was quickly joined by another mother and child.
Wally had assigned Sergeant Quirk the task of cordoning off the property. He had draped yellow ribbon around the yard’s perimeter and placed a pair of sawhorses blocking the driveway.
With the crime scene tape up, the onlookers moved closer, gathering behind the barricade. The small group was now asking Quirk questions.
Rolling down the car’s window, Skye tried to hear what was being said, but she caught only an occasional word or phrase. It sounded as if the sergeant was claiming ignorance, which wasn’t far from the truth. Wally hadn’t given him any details beyond the fact that there was a suspicious death.
Skye studied Quirk. Roy was in his mid-thirties, and, except for his lack of hair, he still looked like the football player he’d been in high school. She could tell the sergeant was starting to lose his patience with the nosy neighbors because he was making shooing motions with his hands and his face had turned an ugly shade of red.
Even from where she sat, Skye could see that Quirk was having trouble remaining civil. She knew that in the past the sergeant had issues with his temper—she’d been on the receiving end of his short fuse a few times herself—but Wally had insisted Quirk see a therapist and he’d been doing better.
Hoping to avoid a relapse, she quickly hopped out of the Caddy. She hurried to where the irate officer stood glowering at an elderly man waving a cane.
Pushing against the wood
en barricade, the man shouted, “We have a right to know what’s happening in our own neighborhood!”
“Sir,” Quirk said between clenched teeth, “please step back.”
A young woman holding a toddler who was chewing the end of her blond ponytail asked, “Did something happen to Palmer?”
“Ma’am.” Quirk heaved a sigh. “As I’ve said repeatedly, I have no information.”
“Why should we believe that? On television, cops lie all the time.” She wagged her index finger under Quirk’s nose. “What are you hiding, Roy?”
“Nothing!” Quirk bellowed, swatting away both the cane that the man was poking at his chest and the hand waving in his face. “Return to your homes. Once the situation has been fully assessed, the chief will make an announcement.”
Skye stepped closer to the sergeant and in a low voice suggested, “Maybe you need to take some deep breaths.”
“I’m okay,” Quirk muttered, then surprised Skye by winking as he said, “You know if folks would control their effing stupidity, I wouldn’t have to manage my anger.”
Before Skye could respond, the elderly woman grabbed her hand and asked, “Are we in danger?”
“That is highly unlikely,” Skye assured the group, then had an inspiration. “But just in case, it probably would be best to lock yourself inside your house until the police have completely secured the area.”
The blonde shrieked, clutched her child to her bosom, and ran. The other mom, dragging her toddler by the hand, was right behind her friend, but the older couple hesitated, glancing at their screen door.
Skye’s gaze followed theirs and she asked, “Did you leave your place unlocked?”
The couple nodded.
“Sergeant.” Skye gave Quirk’s arm a meaningful squeeze. “Perhaps you could walk through Mr. and Mrs. . . .”
“Cooperson,” the woman supplied.
Murder of a Cranky Catnapper Page 6
