Murder of a Cranky Catnapper

by Denise Swanson

  Before she could ease away from the horde and allow someone else to take her spot, a boy next to her said, “What size are you looking for?”

  Skye turned and saw the speaker, a twelve-year-old with sandy hair, sincere brown eyes, and a shy grin. Although she recognized him from Scumble River Junior High, she couldn’t recall his name.

  She smiled back and said, “I’m not. These are too pricey for me.”

  “But they’re Konan Laborie’s,” he explained. “The shoes he endorses sell for two to five hundred bucks. These are the cheaper ones, but still at seventy-five percent off, they’re a steal.”

  “Oh.” Skye knew that Konan was a famous basketball player, but not much else about him. “What I don’t understand is why people are struggling to get them. I’ve seen a few pairs in all of the Dollar or Three stores.”

  “Yeah.” The boy shrugged. “Usually they sell some of Konan’s shoes that are seconds, but these are perfect.”

  “Are you getting a pair?”

  “No.” His cheeks turned red. “Mom can’t afford to buy ’em for me.” He crossed his arms, then obviously parroting something he’d heard, said, “She works too hard to spend that kind of money on sneakers.”

  “That’s very grown-up of you to understand.” Skye wished she could buy the boy the shoes. But before she could figure out a way to do it, she spotted Wally gesturing for her to meet him. Turning to the preteen, she said, “I’ve got to go. My husband’s waiting for me. Nice talking to you.”

  Wally was standing next to a man with dark black hair and deep brown eyes. When she reached his side, he said, “Mr. Ramirez, this is Skye, the police psych consultant.”

  “Nice to meet you, ma’am.” He shook her hand. “How can I help you?”

  “We’d like to ask you some questions about your boss.” Wally rested a hip on the counter, giving the impression of a casual conversation. “What happens to the stores now that Mr. Lynch is gone?”

  “I think Mrs. Lynch will take over.” Ruben shrugged. “She is half owner.”

  “His mother?” Skye asked.

  “No.” The manager shook his head. “His ex.”

  “Did she get the interest in the business in the divorce settlement?” Skye asked, shooting a questioning look at Wally.

  Wally leaned forward and murmured in Skye’s ear, “We’re still waiting for a court order to examine Lynch’s financial records.”

  Nodding her understanding to Wally, Skye asked the manager, “How are the stores doing? Are they in the black?”

  “Yes!” Ruben nodded emphatically. “I am a first-rate manager.”

  “I’m sure you are,” Wally said, then asked, “Was Mr. Lynch a good boss?”

  “Sure.” Ruben shoved his hands in his pockets. “As good as any.”

  “Do you know of any employees or customers that were angry at Mr. Lynch?” Wally asked.

  “He mostly left things to me.” Ruben frowned. “Except for okaying the merchandise orders, he rarely got involved in the day-to-day operations of the business. As long as I followed policy, he didn’t interfere.”

  Wally continued to question the manager. When it was clear there wasn’t anything more the man could or maybe would tell them, he said, “Thank you for your time, Mr. Ramirez. Please call me if you think of anything that might be relevant to Mr. Lynch’s death.”

  Ruben accepted Wally’s card, tucking it into his shirt pocket, then escorted Skye and Wally to the exit. Just before she left, Skye dug in her purse until she located the emergency fifty-dollar bill she kept behind her driver’s license.

  Adding a ten to it, she pressed the money into the manager’s hand and pointed at the kid she’d been chatting with, then said, “This is for a pair of those Laborie shoes for that boy. Give him whatever change there is and tell him it’s because he acted so mature.”

  Wally raised a brow, but didn’t say anything. And Skye shrugged. Now that she was no longer buried under a mountain of debt, when she saw the opportunity, she enjoyed helping out others.

  As they walked toward the squad car, Skye came to an abrupt stop. Something niggled at her brain. What was she trying to remember? She gazed back at the store. It was something she’d just seen.

  “Wait.” Skye faced Wally and put her hand on his chest. “I think I know how the ketamine Palmer was trying to get from Dr. Q was going to be distributed.”

  “How?” Wally wrinkled his forehead.

  “Inside designer athletic shoes.”

  “Go on,” Wally encouraged.

  “Grant Paulk’s drugs were found in the toe of a box of shoes that he had in his locker. Shoes just like the ones that I’ve seen in every Dollar or Three store.” Skye took a breath. “Plus Mrs. Paulk said she didn’t buy those shoes for her son.”

  “And?”

  “I read about this somewhere.” Skye pursed her lips. “I bet Palmer used kids to sell the drugs and paid them with these expensive sneakers that they all want but their parents won’t or can’t afford to buy for them. Then he sold the rest of the shipment out of his stores.” She frowned. “Now all we have to do is prove it.”

  CHAPTER 22

  A countryman between two lawyers is like a fish between two cats.

  —BENJAMIN FRANKLIN

  Skye and Wally were in a hurry to get back to the police station and talk to Grant Paulk about the drugs they’d found in his fancy tennis shoes, so instead of a leisurely meal in Laurel’s nicest restaurant, they had a quick bite to eat at Culver’s and headed to Scumble River.

  While Skye loved Culver’s crispy chicken sandwich and crinkly fries, the fast food just didn’t compare to prime rib. Although the caramel cashew sundae that Wally had insisted she order almost made up for missing Harry’s perfectly seasoned beef.

  On the drive home, Skye was quiet as she mulled over the break-in at the Legion. Something was nagging in the back of her mind. Something she’d heard at the Dooziers’. Who had said what? Something about Yolanda’s fiancé wanting to visit a friend in Scumble River.

  A spark of an idea fluttered through Skye’s head, and before she lost it, she turned to Wally and asked, “Did Quirk ever talk to Yolanda’s fiancé?”

  “No.” Wally frowned. “He was on his way to Earl’s when Martinez called to transport Barney Paulk from the junior high to the PD.”

  “What if the break-in at the Legion had nothing to do with the money?”

  “What else would be the motive?” Wally glanced at Skye.

  “I think it might have been connected with the new manager, Chantal.” Skye closed her eyes and continued, “Both you and Mom said that she was hysterical, but something seems wrong about that picture. First, the thieves didn’t hurt her, and second, why did it take her so long to come out of her hiding place and call for help?”

  “I wondered that myself.” Wally rubbed the back of his neck. “But she started crying when I tried to ask her, so I figured she was just high-strung.”

  “Or hiding something.” Skye tapped her fingers on the armrest. “Yolanda’s fiancé insisted on coming to Scumble River. He claimed he’d recently reconnected with a frat brother from here and wanted to visit.”

  “Chantal may have gone to college.” Wally raised a brow. “But she’s certainly no one’s fraternity brother.”

  “Well, AJ could hardly tell Yolanda he wanted to see another woman.” Skye barely resisted rolling her eyes. “However, he was also the one who suggested the family go to the Legion. And when Earl’s car mysteriously broke down, he was the one who volunteered to stay with it. In fact, I think he did something to the Buick so that it wouldn’t start.”

  “Okay.” Wally’s tone was quizzical. “But if AJ and Chantal have some sort of a relationship, why was the door smashed? Why wouldn’t she just let him in?”

  “Maybe the relationship ended badly. Maybe Chantal is hiding
in Scumble River,” Skye suggested.

  “We need to talk to those two.” Wally scrubbed his face with his hand. “But we also need to talk to Grant and his father about the drugs. I’ve been looking forward to a little face time with the asshole who dared to put his hands on my wife and endangered my child.”

  “Look”—Skye patted Wally’s arm—“why don’t you let Quirk interview the Paulks? The sergeant is good with obnoxious guys like Mr. Paulk and smart-alecky kids like his son.” She was afraid if Wally was in the same room with Barney, he might kill the man. “We should get Chantal and AJ together and goad them into telling us the truth.”

  Reluctantly agreeing to Skye’s plan, Wally radioed Quirk to question the Paulks about Skye’s drug theory. Luckily, Barney Paulk was still in the holding cell waiting for an officer to escort him to the county jail, and his son was still with Zelda, who hadn’t yet transported Grant to the juvenile facility.

  Finishing with Quirk, Wally spoke to Martinez and ordered her to pick up Chantal and AJ and bring them to the station for questioning. Once she’d delivered the suspects, she was to get hold of the junior and high school principals and conduct a building-wide locker search for red shoe boxes. Any boxes found should be dusted for fingerprints, and that included the one that had previously been discovered in Grant Paulk’s possession.

  Skye sighed. She knew that the legality of locker searches depended on the students’ reasonable expectations of privacy. And that all students were notified at the beginning of each school year that the principal had a master key to their lockers and periodic searches for contraband would be conducted.

  Nevertheless, she wished there were another way. The students would be upset. And it would be hard for the staff to rebuild the trust the kids would feel had been violated.

  Thirty minutes later, when Skye and Wally entered the PD, Grant and his father were in the coffee/interrogation room. As Skye walked past, she heard Barney stuttering and Grant crying. Evidently, Quirk was making excellent progress.

  Chantal and AJ were seated in the lobby, pointedly ignoring each other. Wally introduced himself to the plastic surgeon and Skye to the Legion manager, then ushered the pair upstairs. The police station didn’t have a second interrogation room, but since it was after business hours, Wally had asked that the city hall conference room be opened up and equipped with a tape recorder.

  He waited until Chantal and AJ settled on one side of the table, then gestured Skye to the seat across from the plastic surgeon. Wally sat facing the Legion manager, and as he pushed the button of the old-fashioned tape recorder, he asked her and the doctor to state their full name and address.

  While the formalities were being handled, Skye noticed that Chantal edged her chair away from AJ’s and refused to meet his gaze. The plastic surgeon stared at her, then smirked and looked away.

  Wally allowed the couple to squirm for several long minutes, then abruptly asked, “How long have you known each other?”

  “Three—”

  “We’ve never met before today,” AJ cut off Chantal with a glare.

  “Not even Sunday night at the Legion?” Skye asked, feeling a little like Nero Wolfe as she laced her fingers over her baby bump.

  “Of course not,” AJ simpered. “I only had eyes for my fiancée.”

  “Another woman you promised the moon and who will end up with nothing,” Chantal muttered. She peered at Wally from beneath her lashes and teased, “Chief, do you know the one thing that all men in singles bars have in common?”

  Wally shook his head.

  “They’re married.” Chantal’s giggle had a hysterical edge to it.

  “Be quiet,” AJ snapped. “I’ll handle this.”

  “Like you handled the insurance company?” Chantal crossed her arms.

  “Zip it!” AJ glowered at the woman next to him. “Try keeping quiet and proving your IQ is higher than your bra size.”

  “At least I fill up my bra,” Chantal retorted. “We both know that isn’t true for you and your briefs.”

  “Shut the fu—”

  Wally interrupted the surgeon, snarling, “Do not use that word in front of my wife.” After AJ snapped his mouth shut, Wally leaned toward Chantal and said, “You know it’s in your best interest to tell the truth here.” He waited until she gave a little nod, then continued, “We’re aware that despite his fiancée’s reluctance, Dr. Martino insisted on coming to Scumble River. We’re also cognizant that it was his idea to go to the American Legion and that he stayed with a mysteriously disabled car after the bar closed.”

  “None of which is a crime.” AJ looked down his too-perfect-to-be-real nose. “At least, not anywhere outside of Hooterville. What is it, Sheriff? Are you low for this month’s arrest quota?”

  “Yeah,” Wally drawled. “One more criminal in custody and I get a widescreen TV.” He glanced between AJ and Chantal. “Which one of you will it be?”

  Neither suspect volunteered.

  Returning his attention to Chantal, Wally said, “What did Dr. Martino want to talk to you so badly about? And why were you so afraid of him that he had to break into the building to do it?”

  “I called my lawyer the minute that cop picked me up.” AJ shot a silencing look at Chantal and commanded, “Don’t you dare say a word until he gets here.”

  “Chantal.” Wally waited until the woman acknowledged him. “Just remember, Dr. Martino’s attorney won’t represent your best interests.”

  Chantal gazed at AJ and asked, “Did you call a lawyer for me, too?”

  “Not exactly,” AJ mumbled. “Mine will look out for both of us.”

  “Right.” Chantal snorted. “All you care about is you. I had a nice gig here. I like Scumble River. I was starting to make friends.”

  “You are so stupid, your hair should be platinum.” AJ shook his head.

  “Really?” Chantal bristled. “Do you know why all the dumb blonde jokes are one-liners?” Without waiting for an answer, she said, “So men like you can understand them.”

  “Seriously? I’m a freaking surgeon and you question my intelligence?” AJ huffed. “If you would have just answered your damn phone or your e-mail, I wouldn’t have had to track you down. Imagine my surprise when I found you living in Yolanda’s hometown.”

  “I met her the day I quit.” Chantal sighed. “She came into the clinic looking for a job and she mentioned Scumble River. I remembered that my friend Emmy lived there and I thought it would be a good place to regroup and make a fresh start.”

  Skye smiled. A lot of people seemed to come to Scumble River looking for a clean slate. Or like she had, returned there in search of one. Noticing that Wally had paused in his interrogation, she glanced at him and he dipped his head slightly indicating he wanted her to take over.

  “Chantal.” Skye reached across the table and took the woman’s hand. “You can still have that fresh start. We can help you. But you need to tell us the truth.”

  “Don’t be a fool,” AJ snarled. “These people are not your friends. You may have a crush on the chief, but he’s obviously not into you.” AJ jeered in Skye’s direction, “Although what he sees in her . . .”

  Wally’s fist clenched, but Skye used her free hand to pat his thigh. Who cared what this smarmy creep thought about her or their relationship?

  “As usual,” Chantal straightened, “you didn’t listen to me. I said the sergeant and I had gone out, not the chief.” She glanced at Wally and smiled. “Not that you aren’t a handsome guy, but”—she shot a pointed glance at AJ—“I’ve learned my lesson about married men.”

  “Oh?” Skye encouraged. “Was Dr. Martino married?”

  “Still is, unless he decided he can live with his wife getting half of everything.” Chantal wrinkled her nose. “At least, that was the excuse he always gave me for not divorcing her.”

  “Why don’t you start
at the beginning and tell us what happened,” Skye suggested. “You’ll feel so much better once it’s all out in the open. After that, you really can get that fresh start.”

  “You’re right.” Chantal took a deep breath. “If I want to have what you and the chief have—a home, true love, a family—I need to get out in front of the lies and deceit. How could I even think of getting involved with a cop if my whole life is a sham?”

  “Baby . . .” AJ’s voice turned seductive. “I’ve missed you. I’ll ditch the little redneck I came here with, divorce my wife, and you and I can be together. All you need to do is keep quiet. These two don’t know anything.”

  “They know you’re full of shit.” Chantal stared at her hands and said, “I was AJ’s office manager. The day I was hired, he started to wine and dine me. Before I knew it, we were engaged, which was kind of weird since he was still married. But hey, I believed him when he said that the minute he figured out how to hide his assets, he would get a divorce.”

  “Sometimes we believe what we want to believe,” Skye assured her.

  “Anyway, as soon as I was thoroughly hooked, he asked me to fudge a few of the insurance claims.” Chantal’s face reddened. “He said that the insurance paid so little that if we didn’t massage the paperwork, we wouldn’t even break even. And after all, the insurance companies could afford it.”

  AJ tried to interrupt, but Wally narrowed his eyes and fingered his gun until the plastic surgeon closed his mouth.

  “Nonetheless, you knew it was illegal,” Skye said softly. “So it bothered you.”

  “It did.” A tear slid down Chantal’s cheek. “But anytime I complained, AJ had an answer.” She wiped away the moisture. “And I loved him.”

  “So what happened?” Wally asked. “Why did you quit and run away?”

  “I was getting more and more worried.” Chantal bit her lip. “The insurance companies were starting to question our claims and I told AJ we had to stop.”

  “Shut the hell up!” AJ bellowed.

  “One more word and I’m locking you in the holding cell in the basement,” Wally threatened.