Murder of a Bookstore Babe srm-13

by Denise Swanson

  “Then why was she found facedown?” Wally looked at Skye in the dresser’s mirror as he combed his damp hair. “In your scenario, she should have fallen backward.”

  “Unless the blow didn’t knock her out immediately. In that case she would have swung around to see who hit her, and then fallen forward,” Skye explained. “It’s my understanding that people don’t always die right away from a head injury.”

  “Okay.” Wally put his hand on the small of Skye’s back and walked with her out of the bedroom and toward the door. “Say we go with your theory that the store owner, not the clerk, was the intended victim. Who wanted to kill Risé?”

  “Unfortunately, there’s quite a list.” Skye frowned. “And about half of the names on it are my relatives’.”

  Wally wasn’t entirely persuaded by Skye’s reasoning. However, since the stolen books hadn’t yielded any usable fingerprints and they didn’t have any other leads, he did agree that in addition to investigating the murder as if Kayla was the intended victim, he’d have an officer look into the bookseller’s background, as well.

  He also approved Skye talking to her cousins Kevin and Hugo, her cousin-in-law Flip, Charlie, and Tomi. Thankfully there was no need to talk to Pru Cormorant again. The English teacher had made her peace with Risé before the murder took place.

  As Skye sat in her car watching Wally drive off, she realized that once again she’d forgotten to tell him about Vince’s engagement to Loretta and the couple’s plans to run away and get married in Las Vegas. Was she just absentminded, or was she subconsciously afraid that Wally might suggest they make it a double elopement?

  Nah. Wally knew she wanted a church wedding, and he would never ask her to give up that dream. Tucking away that positive thought, Skye started the Bel Air but didn’t put it into gear. Shoot! Now that she was convinced Risé was the intended victim, she probably should have mentioned Xavier’s investment in the bookstore.

  On the other hand, what possible reason could Xavier have to kill Risé? Without her, Tales and Treats would never succeed. Even having met Orlando only twice, Skye was sure there was no way he could run the business by himself.

  Next, Skye considered her list of suspects. Which person should she question first? Better yet, what excuses could she use to drop by and see them? Hugo lived in Clay Center; she’d save him for when she could catch him at his used-car dealership.

  It was a little past five thirty—suppertime for most Scumble Riverites. That meant Tomi would be busy at her restaurant, and both Kevin and Flip would be eating dinner with their families. That left Uncle Charlie. Tuesday was his bowling night, and he always ate at the alley’s grill before the league started.

  Skye parked in the bowling alley’s sparsely populated lot. The senior men’s league didn’t start until six thirty, so the few cars present belonged to either bar patrons or men like Charlie—older bachelors or widowers who preferred not to cook for themselves.

  The wind had picked up, and as Skye walked around to the front of the building, she held down her skirt, not wanting to flash anyone driving down Basin Street. When she pushed through the glass door, the glaring overhead lights made her blink.

  While her eyes adjusted, Skye listened to Frank Sinatra crooning from the speakers. He was bragging about doing things his way—a sentiment she understood and approved of but didn’t practice as often as she should.

  Charlie wasn’t among the half dozen men at the bar, so Skye continued into the grill. He was seated in a booth reading the Laurel paper and drinking a chocolate milk shake. She slid in across from him and flicked the newspaper with her thumb and index finger.

  Scowling, Charlie lowered the paper and growled, “Dammit, I told you—” He cut himself off. “Skye, what are you doing here, honey?”

  Unlike her cousins, whom she wouldn’t put past committing murder, she was sure her godfather had not killed Risé. Unfortunately, he’d made his dislike of the bookstore owner clear, so she hoped he had an alibi and could be crossed off the list.

  “Have you eaten yet?”

  “No. I just ordered a minute ago.”

  “Great.” Skye put her purse down beside her. “How about some company?”

  “Sure.” Charlie folded the newspaper and set it aside. “To what do I owe the privilege?”

  “Nothing special.” Skye took a menu from the metal holder that contained the salt and pepper shakers, catsup, mustard, and a bottle of hot sauce. “Wally’s got a meeting, and when I drove past and saw your car, it reminded me that you eat here on Tuesdays.”

  “Is everything okay with you?” Charlie’s voice was apprehensive.

  “Yep.” Skye kept her gaze on the laminated pages showing pictures of burgers and fries. “How about you?”

  “Fair to middling.” Charlie eyed her thoughtfully. “Talk to your mother today?”

  “Yes.” Ay-yi-yi! She’d forgotten that May had probably filled Charlie in on Vince buying an engagement ring. “She called me at work this morning.”

  Skye had never quite figured out how her mother and Charlie had become so close. In the past she’d even wondered if they’d once had an affair, but she’d finally realized that Charlie’s love for May was paternal, and May reciprocated with daughterlike affection. Both fulfilled a need in the other. Charlie had never married or had children, and May’s father had died while she was still a teenager.

  Before Charlie could question Skye further, Frannie appeared to take her order.

  As soon as they exchanged pleasantries and the girl walked away, Skye, hoping to divert the conversation away from Vince, asked, “Are Orlando and Risé still staying at the motor court?”

  “Thank God, no.” Charlie’s voice boomed. “The building inspector approved their new apartment yesterday, and they moved that afternoon.”

  “You said you were mad that they were going to be taking guests from you with their B and B rooms.” Skye took a quick scan of the grill. Two men shared a booth, and a teenager sat at the counter. No one appeared to be paying them any attention. “Why aren’t you sorry to lose their business?”

  “It dawned on me that the kind of people who would stay with them aren’t the kind that rent rooms at motor courts.” Charlie took a slurp of his milk shake. “Erwin told me that they’re going to have murder mystery and romance weekends and that kind of crap. What the hell, they might even bring in some trade.”

  “Wonderful.” Skye blew out an inward sigh of relief. That removed Charlie’s motive; now, if he had an alibi, everything would be perfect.

  From Xenia’s information, Skye figured the victim had been attacked sometime between when Risé left at eight fifteen and Xenia came looking for Kayla at eleven. Whoever killed the girl probably turned off the light when he or she left the store.

  “Yep.” Charlie looked at Skye a little strangely. “Everything’s peachy.”

  They sat in silence as Frannie served their meals; then as Charlie fussed with his cheeseburger, Skye said as casually as she could, “Are you still seeing that woman over in Brooklyn?”

  “No.” Charlie swirled a French fry in a pool of catsup and popped it in his mouth. “She was getting too serious.”

  Skye poked at her chef’s salad. “That’s too bad.” The lettuce, boiled ham strips, and cubes of American cheese were hidden by a thick layer of Thousand Island dressing. So much for eating a healthy meal. She should have had the corn dog and onion rings she really wanted. “Then you were alone Saturday evening?”

  “Nope. I spent the night with my new lady friend, the animal doc from Laurel.” Charlie’s bland expression didn’t alter, but there was a suspicious flicker in his bright blue eyes. “Why are you so concerned about my social life all of a sudden?”

  “Uh.” Skye really didn’t want to admit she was asking for an alibi. “No reason.” She hurried to change the subject. “Oh, look. There’s Bunny.”

  The bowling alley manager was strolling from table to table, chatting with the customers. Skye waved, an
d the older woman headed toward them.

  Tonight Bunny’s outfit was subdued, and Skye wondered whether anything was wrong. The redhead wore a tight black sweater, knit pants, and medium-heeled ankle boots. Had her subscription to the Frederick’s of Hollywood catalog lapsed?

  After Bunny had enveloped Skye in a hug, Skye asked, “Everything going well?”

  “Better now.” Bunny grinned. “For a while there I wasn’t sure if life was passing me by or trying to run me down.”

  “What changed?” Skye asked.

  “I came up with a new way to make some extra cash and improve my social life.”

  “Really?” Skye teased. “Does it have anything to do with that nice-looking gentleman who saved you a parking spot at the bookstore’s grand opening the other day?”

  “Maybe.” Bunny lowered her voice. “But I haven’t told Sonny Boy, so I can’t talk about it yet.”

  Oh-oh! Skye cringed. Were Bunny’s improved love life and her new moneymaking scheme connected? That couldn’t be good.

  Before Bunny could say more, she caught sight of two teenagers trying to sneak into the bar and teetered off, saying over her shoulder, “I gotta take care of that. See ya later.”

  “I wonder what she’s thought up this time,” Skye muttered.

  “You probably don’t want to know.” Charlie shot Skye a hard look. “I’d say you have your hands full trying to get everyone’s alibis for the time that poor little gal was murdered.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Les Misérables

  Skye left the bowling alley at six thirty. She was thrilled that Uncle Charlie was in the clear but worried about how she would question the others. Although none of her cousins was as smart as Charlie was, they were a lot meaner. If they suspected she was interrogating them, they might kill her. Or worse, rat her out to May, who wouldn’t take kindly to her daughter trying to incriminate a family member.

  With that in mind, she decided to talk to the only non-relative on her list, Tomi Jackson. Skye was fairly sure the diminutive woman wouldn’t attack her or tattle to May, but she was a little afraid that Tomi would ban her from the Feed Bag—which might be the most horrible outcome of all. Other than McDonald’s and the bowling alley, Tomi’s was the only place in town to get a meal without cooking it yourself. Unless you counted the fried chicken from the grocery store’s deli department.

  Just as Skye had hoped, the Feed Bag’s parking lot was nearly empty. On weeknights the restaurant closed at seven, so only a few stragglers would be lingering over their coffee. Tomi wouldn’t be busy, and Skye wouldn’t have to find some excuse to visit her at her home.

  The last time the Feed Bag had been redecorated was 1984, and the mauve paint and brass railings showed every bit of their age. More than twenty years of hard wear had taken a toll. Most of the vinyl seats had rips that had been repaired with duct tape, and the walls were pocked with dabs of color that didn’t quite match the original. The original ferns had died more than a decade ago, and the plastic plants that replaced them were faded and dusty.

  Tomi greeted Skye at the door. “What are you doing here so late, honey, and all by your lonesome?” Without waiting for an answer, she seated Skye at the booth nearest the cash register, then put a hand on her hip. “You and the chief didn’t have a spat, did you?”

  Ah. The joys of small-town living. “Nope. Wally’s at a meeting in Laurel, and since I’ve had a busy day”—Skye barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes at the understatement—“I thought I’d treat myself to a piece of your famous lemon meringue pie before I head on home.”

  “Coming right up.”

  When Tomi came back with the dessert, Skye said, “I’d love some company if you aren’t too busy.”

  “Sure. Let me grab a beer.” Tomi turned and said over her shoulder, “I’ll be right back.”

  Skye watched the tiny restaurateur speak to an employee, then dart into the kitchen.

  When Tomi returned, she slid into the seat opposite Skye, twisted the cap from a bottle of Corona, took a long slug, wiped her mouth, and said, “I just gotta keep an eye on the register.”

  “No problem.” Skye searched her mind for a topic of conversation that would lead into the questions she needed to ask. “Lots of excitement in town over that new bookstore.”

  “Sure is.” Tomi patted a strand of hair back into her blond beehive. “Especially after what happened to that poor girl working there.”

  “Wasn’t that a shame?” Skye cut off the tip of her pie with her fork. “Who would do such a thing?”

  “Wasn’t it some burglar?”

  “Maybe.” Skye chewed and swallowed. “But I wonder if it didn’t have something to do with the store.” She met Tomi’s gaze. “I hear a lot of folks in town have a beef with the owners.”

  “Yeah.” Tomi straightened the name tag that pinned the handkerchief to her pink uniform. “Scumble River doesn’t like change.”

  “Or competition.” Skye ate another bite of pie, letting the fluffy meringue melt on her tongue after savoring the tart lemon filling and finally the flaky crust. “Uncle Charlie said that Risé and Orlando had ticked off a lot of business owners.”

  “So I hear.” Tomi narrowed her eyes. “Especially your cousin Hugo.”

  “Yeah. Hard to believe someone can get so mad over something like a parking space.” Skye was careful not to show what side she was on in that dispute. “It seemed to work out all right for the grand opening. Maybe they can come to some middle ground.”

  “Hugo, compromise?” Tomi snorted. “What universe are you living in?”

  “Yeah, well . . .” Skye was almost done with her pie. She needed to bring the subject around to Tomi’s own gripe about the store. “So, do you think Tales and Treats’ café will lure away any of your customers?”

  “Nah.” Tomi wiped the moisture ring from her beer bottle with her apron. “My regulars won’t pay four bucks for a cup of fancy coffee or want some citified pastry instead of my good old-fashioned cakes and pies.”

  “I don’t know.” Skye dabbed her mouth with her napkin. “People can be fickle. They get tired of the same old, same old.”

  “Maybe for a while, but they always come back to the comfortable and the familiar.” Tomi shrugged. “And money talks. Here they can have a coffee and dessert for five dollars. At Tales and Treats it’ll cost them close to double that amount.”

  “True.” Skye wondered whether Charlie’s information about Tomi being mad about the store opening was wrong. But just in case, she needed to see whether Tomi had an alibi. “Wally and I came by here Saturday night for some dessert after we got back from the movie in Joliet, but the parking lot was so packed we decided not to stop. You must have been really busy.”

  “Whoo-ee.” Tomi finished her beer and started toward the register, where an old man was tapping his foot impatiently. “We sure were. We had Rosella Bonucci’s retirement dinner, and she and her husband, Joe, have so many friends, no one wanted to leave. I’m usually out of here by ten on weekends, but that night I was here past midnight helping Carlos and Wanda clean up.”

  After confirming with the waitress and busboy that Tomi had indeed been with them until after twelve a.m. Saturday night, Skye paid her tab and left. Another suspect was off her list. That left her cousins. How could she approach them?

  Kevin was the easiest; she could claim to want to review her insurance policies. He’d been bugging her to update them, and she had been putting him off for months. With Flip, she could say she’d heard he was doing some private carpentry now and wondered if he’d have time to give her an estimate on turning one of her spare bedrooms into a home office with built-in bookshelves.

  That left Hugo. She couldn’t pretend to want to buy a used car. If word got back to her dad or Charlie that she was even considering replacing the Bel Air, their feelings would be hurt. Which meant it would have to be a non-work-related reason.

  She and Hugo had little in common except their genes. He was
nearly ten years older than she was, and although his wife, Victoria, was closer to Skye’s age, they’d never bonded, either. Victoria’s only interest, besides her twelve-year-old son, Prescott, was maintaining her appearance. She spent all her time at hairstylists, nail salons, gyms, and tanning booths. Not places Skye often frequented, since both the cost and the time needed were prohibitive.

  For the rest of Tuesday evening while Skye relaxed at home, and on and off the next day at school, she thought about how to approach Hugo. What pretext could she use? By the end of the afternoon, she’d conceded defeat. Since she couldn’t come up with an idea, she’d go see Kevin that afternoon, then Flip in the early evening, and put off Hugo until the next day. Maybe by then some excuse would occur to her.

  Skye wasn’t able to leave work after the final bell, as she had planned. Instead, she was pulled into a last-minute conference regarding a student who was refusing to attend school, and by the time she’d gotten out of that discussion, she decided she’d better call Wally and let him know that both Charlie and Tomi had alibis.

  Wally was in a hurry—he had to get to a meeting of the police commissioners—but he told Skye he’d assigned Martinez to check out Risé’s background, and the officer would let him know ASAP what she found out. He also mentioned that he was still waiting for the ME and crime scene reports.

  Because of all the delays, it was close to four thirty when Skye arrived at Kevin’s insurance office, and she was afraid he might already have gone home.

  As she locked the Bel Air, her cell phone rang. Sighing, she dug it out of the depths of her tote, checked to make sure it wasn’t her mother calling to bug her about Vince and the engagement ring, then flipped it open and said, “Hello.”

  The display screen said ILLINOIS CALLER, so Skye had no idea who was on the other end until she heard, “Hi. This is Simon.” His smooth tenor was oddly soothing. “I missed you at school and didn’t know when you’d be home, so Frannie told me how to reach you.” He paused, but when Skye didn’t react—Frannie had been told not to share Skye’s cell number with Simon—he continued, “I was wondering where things stand on Kayla’s murder.”