“Well, the twins were in a bind,” she told Charlie. “They had already paid the fee, but it turned out both Gillian and Ginger had to work. So I said I’d take the Iris and Kristin so the girls wouldn’t be disappointed.”
Charlie raised an eyebrow, but didn’t pursue the matter.
“What are you doing here, Uncle Charlie?”
“I’m a judge. They always ask me, the mayor, and the newspaper editor.” Charlie motioned with his thumb.
Skye lowered her voice. “Who are the women?”
Charlie’s voice boomed. “This here is Miss Stanley County 1978, and that lady in the corner is Miss Central Illinois 1960.”
Skye nodded to the former beauty queens. “Come out in the hall a minute,” she whispered to her godfather. “I need to ask you something in private.”
Charlie lumbered to his feet, grumbling.
“Did you know that Linette Ingels competed today?” she asked.
“I heard.” Charlie shrugged. “I’m not surprised. The Ingels seem to think that because they got money and power, they don’t have to play by the rules.”
“What do you mean?”
“Let’s just say no one in town will play poker or buy a used car from Al, and the missus isn’t welcome at any bridge game.”
“So how does he stay bank president?”
“That’s a good question. One I’m going to find the answer to.” Charlie turned and walked back into the lounge before she could ask anything more.
Skye stood stunned at what Charlie had said. Was he really implying that Allen Ingels was a crook? What did Charlie know that he wasn’t telling her?
“Skye Denison!”
Who was it now? Skye looked up in time to see Abby Fleming, the school nurse, sweeping down on her. Abby was Vince’s ex-girlfriend, and although the breakup had not been pleasant, she and Skye had stayed on good terms.
“Abby,” Skye greeted her. “Before you ask, I’ve got Gillian and Ginger’s girls entered, that’s why I’m here.”
“Me too.” Abby smiled. “I’ve got my niece, I mean. Her mother’s not interested, but since I used to do the pageant circuit, I take her.”
Skye was surprised to hear Abby had been in beauty contests. Abby was a stunning woman—tall, thin, with white-blond hair and aquamarine eyes—but she was more striking than pretty and didn’t seem the type the judges usually chose.
“Hey, you want to get a pop and meet some of the other pageant moms?” Abby asked.
Skye checked her watch. It was eleven-forty-five, and she had time before she had to get back to Trixie and her charges. “Okay.”
Abby led Skye through the maze of corridors and into the cafeteria. After they each purchased a can of soda, Abby approached a table occupied by several women. “Hi. This is a friend of mine from work, Skye Denison. It’s her first contest. Mind if we join you?”
A brunette in red leggings and an oversize T-shirt spoke for her friends. “Pull up a piece of bench. Did you see Linette Ingels’ performance?”
Skye couldn’t believe her luck. That was exactly the subject she wanted to discuss. She kept her mouth shut and listened, wishing she could take notes.
“No, but I certainly heard about it,” Abby said.
One of the other moms chimed in, “I’m not surprised. My daughter competes in the same age range as Lorelei, and that mother would do anything to make her other daughter win.”
The brunette tsked. “That’s for sure. My daughter used to compete with that crowd, and Lorna Ingels deliberately stepped on the hem of her formal and ripped it, right before she was supposed to go onstage.”
“Lorna Ingels is famous for that type of thing,” an older woman added. “She grabbed my granddaughter and gave her a big old hug just as she walked on stage. I didn’t notice until it was too late that she had smeared bright red lipstick down my grandbaby’s sleeve. And it wasn’t no accident. The lipstick Lorna was wearing was pink.”
“I’m surprised Linette was never kicked out of the pageant,” Skye said.
“Lorna’s sneaky. It’s hard to prove that she deliberately sabotages the others,” Abby explained.
“We almost caught her in the act last year,” chirped a birdlike woman at the end of the table. “Someone stole my daughter’s makeup case. Lorelei’s space was right next to ours. We all went to the stage for Talent, and when we came back, the case was missing. Lorna had been the last one out of the room, and she refused to let us search her things.”
Skye couldn’t contain herself. “So, what happened?”
“The contest coordinator was going to throw her out, but she came up with an alibi. Priscilla VanHorn came forward and said Lorna had been with her the whole time the girls were onstage, and they had walked to and from the dressing room together.”
“That’s odd,” Abby said. “Wouldn’t Priscilla have been thrilled to eliminate Lorelei from competing against Zoë?”
The other women murmured their agreement.
Skye asked, “Did they ever find out who stole the makeup?”
“We figured it out later,” the brunette said. “Maybe Lorna was with Priscilla, but Linette was in and out of that dressing room, and no one thought of checking on her.”
“I was under the impression Linette wasn’t too fond of her sister,” Skye said, confused. “I’m surprised she’d steal for her.”
The bird woman piped up, “This wasn’t for Lorelei. This was against my family. My youngest daughter competes against Linette, and she had won the last contest they were in together.”
“Boy, this is more cutthroat than graduate school,” Skye commented.
“There’s more at stake,” Abby said.
“What? I understand that it’s a rush to compete, and winning is really ego-building, but the level of intensity I’ve seen here today seems way more than what I would expect. What’s the deal?”
Abby lowered her voice and leaned closer to Skye. “Money.”
“Money? You mean there’s big money up for grabs?”
“Yes. Not so much at these little contests, but as you go up the line we’re talking cars, trips, clothes, scholarships, and thousands of dollars in cash.” Abby paused to take a breath. “And that’s not all. There’s also a lot of money spent. You’ve got to have pictures, a professional coach, costumes, makeup, and hairstylists. Add to that the travel expenses and the fee to enter the contests. Then figure that many of these people enter a contest nearly every week. You can easily spend twenty thousand a year.” Abby shook her head. “I know of women who have taken a second mortgage on their houses, or work another job, just to pay for these pageants.”
“Makes you think, doesn’t it?” Skye added money to her list of motives for Lorelei’s killer. “I’ve heard a lot about Lorna Ingels, but no one says much about Lorelei. Any idea why?”
“Not really, but if you want to know about Lorelei, you should come to next week’s contest, Miss Central Illinois. It’s for the older girls, over seventeen. If Lorelei had won that one, she’d be a sure bet for Miss Illinois, which is a step away from the big one. I’m one of the judges.” Abby’s eyes gleamed.
“Was Lorelei a contender for Miss Central Illinois?”
“From what I’ve seen of the circuit, it was between Lorelei, Zoë, and another girl.” Abby shrugged her tanned shoulders. “Of course, there’s always a chance a wild card will show up.”
“A wild card?”
“Some girl from east of nowhere who has never done a pageant but is such a natural she takes the prize,” Abby explained.
“All this work and money, and someone can come out of left field and take it away.” Skye glanced at the clock. “Hey, I’ve got to go get lunch ready for the girls. See you later.”
The remainder of the pageant went without incident. Kristin won the Talent section, but Linette took Modeling, Interview, and Beauty. No one was surprised to see her win the crown.
When Linette’s name was called, Skye studied her expression. After puz
zling for some time, Skye could best describe it as a look of entitlement. It seemed that Linette never had any doubt that she’d win.
CHAPTER 10
Cut to the Chick
The Mass is ended. Go in peace,” Father Burns intoned. The congregation responded, “Thanks be to God,” as they gathered their belongings and started to edge out of the pews.
Skye smoothed down her new blue linen dress. She had bought the dress to wear for Easter, but couldn’t resist this warm, bright Sunday. Looking around, she noted that a lot of people had had the same idea. Most of the women were dressed in spring pastels.
A snippet of conversation about the Ingels, coming from somewhere in front of her, snared Skye’s attention. As she merged into the exiting crowd, straining to hear more, the heel of her sandal caught on the edge of the carpet running the length of the aisle. She tripped, falling into the person behind her. Warm, masculine hands gripped her arms and steadied her.
Blushing, she turned to thank her rescuer. Goldenhazel eyes gazed into hers. Simon Reid smiled at her.
Instead of releasing her, he said, “Well, I wasn’t expecting to hold an angel in my arms today, even though it is Sunday, and I am at church.”
Skye’s blush intensified. What did he mean by that? He had broken up with her. Was he trying to make up? Did she want him to? She had to admit it felt good to be held by him again. “Sorry, new shoes.”
He looked her over seductively, ending at the offending footwear. The thin blue straps emphasized her high arches and nicely shaped ankles. “Very pretty.”
She wasn’t sure if he meant the shoes or her. Feelings that she had suppressed for the last nine months were fighting their way to the surface, and she forced herself to move out of his arms. “Thanks. I got them at Spiegel.” What a dumb thing to say. She mentally hit her forehead with her hand. Like Simon cares where I buy my shoes.
As they reached the double glass doors, Father Burns stopped them. “Skye, Simon, just the people I’ve been wanting to talk to. Do you have a few minutes?”
The priest had saved Skye’s life last summer. Anything the man wanted, she was willing to try and do. “Certainly, Father.”
Simon nodded, and Father Burns said, “Good, good. Why don’t you wait for me next door?”
The housekeeper greeted them at the door to the rectory, guided them to the priest’s office, and offered them seats.
Once the woman left, Skye finally broke the silence. “So, how have you been?”
“Fine. And you?”
“Okay.” She tried to think of something else to say. “Play any bridge lately?”
“No, I haven’t found another partner. You?”
Her heart lurched at his words. They’d had a great bridge partnership—among other things. “No. If it weren’t for my little computerized handheld game, I’d forget how to play.”
“I bought one of those too—Nintendo for adults. Did you get yours at K’s Merchandise in Kankakee?”
“Probably. My parents got it for me for Christmas, and they shop there.”
“Mine has a cord to connect to another unit. Does yours?”
“Yes. Maybe we could try it out sometime,” Skye blurted out before she realized what she was saying.
Simon started to nod, then seemed to catch himself. A veil dropped over his features. After a long silence he remarked, “So, I hear you talked to Xavier’s daughter.”
“Who?” Skye was still going over her incredibly stupid gaffe and hadn’t followed what he meant.
“Frannie Ryan is the daughter of my assistant, Xavier Ryan. Frannie comes to talk to me when she needs a shoulder to cry on. Her mom’s dead, and since I haven’t had a mother since I was fourteen, we have a common bond. Xavier isn’t always the easiest person to confide in. Frannie liked talking to you.”
“I didn’t get the connection. Ryan’s a fairly common last name.” Skye remembered the teen’s hatred of Lorelei and her clique. “Was she upset by Lorelei’s death?”
“No. I’d say more half-afraid, half-thrilled. She doesn’t want you to think she killed Lorelei, because you’re so cool, but she was really psyched to finally tell someone how she was treated by that group of girls.”
“She’s welcome to talk to me anytime, about those feelings or anything else, although she will need to have her dad sign a consent slip,” Skye explained. “Unless it’s an emergency.”
“She’ll never ask her father.” Simon shrugged. “It’s really too bad. He’d do anything for her, but somehow he and Frannie just butt heads when they try to communicate.”
“Speaking of Lorelei, when will you have the results of the autopsy and tox screen?” As soon as the words left her mouth Skye experienced an “oh no, second”—that minuscule fraction of time in which she realized she had just blown the tiny chance she had to make up with Simon. Now he would never believe she was being nice to him for any reason except to gather information about Lorelei’s murder. Damn. Why had he brought up the subject?
Skye was saved from trying to explain herself when Father Burns strode into the room and smiled beatifically at them. “Sorry to keep you waiting. Today the parishioners had many things to discuss.”
“No problem, Father.” Skye gazed fondly at the priest.
“I wanted to talk to you about helping out your church. Our youth committee is in dire need of leadership.”
“Oh.” Simon raised an eyebrow.
“You two would be perfect,” Father Burns continued, leaning forward. “We need someone young, with an understanding of teens today. Skye, you have the training, and Simon, I’ve seen how well the kids react to you.”
Skye was silent. Did she really want to take on another job? On the other hand, maybe it would do her good to be around “average” kids without major problems. It would give her perspective. Besides, how could she turn down Father Burns’s request after all he’d done for her? She slid her gaze to Simon. What would his reaction be?
“What does the job entail?” Simon asked.
“Planning monthly youth activities mostly, and chaperoning them, of course.”
“Is there a budget?” Skye asked.
“Not really. Mostly they fund-raise. For some of the activities we do charge a small fee, but that’s waived if a family can’t afford it.”
Skye and Simon turned to each other. Both gave slight shrugs. Simon answered, “Okay, we’ll give it a try.”
Skye nodded in agreement. How hard could it be? “Sure, we’ll formulate a plan, then get back to you.” She convinced herself that the chance of seeing Simon on a regular basis had nothing to do with her acceptance.
Father Burns thanked them and escorted them out of the rectory. They parted at the end of the sidewalk with a promise to get together in a couple of days and talk.
The church was located on the corner of Stebler and Basin. Simon headed toward the parking lot and Skye toward the street.
At the bench on the corner, Skye sat and exchanged her sandals for the Keds she had stuffed into her purse. She held her breath as Simon drove by in his Lexus. She squinted to read his bumper sticker: LOTTERY: A TAX ON PEOPLE WHO ARE BAD AT MATH. Typical of Simon’s dry sense of humor.
Skye sighed. He hadn’t even offered her a ride. Of course, he didn’t know she was without a car. Giving herself a mental shake, she bounced to her feet. She didn’t need a ride or anything else from anybody. It was less than a mile to her cottage, and a beautiful day to walk.
As Skye neared her house, she noticed several cars parked in the driveway. She recognized her parents’ white Oldsmobile, her brother’s Jeep, and Charlie’s Caddy, but the glimpses of aqua worried her.
Her father, Jed, greeted her enthusiastically and took her right arm. “Skye, we’ve got a surprise for you,” he exclaimed.
He was much more animated than she could ever remember seeing him. His deeply tanned faced was wrinkled with a smile, and his faded brown eyes were twinkling. Even his gray crew cut seemed to be standing at attention
.
“Oh, today is full of surprises,” Skye remarked dryly, and tried to edge closer to whatever her family was trying to hide from her. A tarp covered most of the object, but she was afraid she knew what it was. They had gone against her wishes and bought her a car. The only question that remained was: What kind of vehicle had they purchased? The thought of what their collective minds would come up with made Skye shudder.
May took her place on Skye’s left. “Close your eyes.”
Skye was way ahead of her mother’s orders. The problem was: Could she bring herself to ever open them again?
Vince stood behind her and whispered in her ear, “It’s not as bad as it might seem at first.”
Skye heard the tarp being pulled off as Charlie yelled, “Ta-dah!”
She forced herself to look. Her mouth dropped open and little sounds came out, but no words. The car was bigger than Charlie’s Cadillac, painted a bright turquoise, and . . . and it had fins. She moaned.
Charlie took her hand and led her toward the vehicle. “I’ll bet you don’t know what a gem me and your daddy found for you.”
Skye shook her head, unable to produce a coherent utterance.
Jed declared, “This is a genuine 1957 Chevrolet Bel Air.”
When Skye still didn’t respond, May poked her in the side. “Your father has been working on this car for you since December. It was a wreck when Charlie discovered it in old man Gar’s barn.”
“I knew what a beauty was hidden beneath the rust and rags,” Charlie said, using his sleeve to wipe a smudge off the hood.
Jed relinquished his grip on Skye’s arm and popped open the hood. “See that? Everything’s like new. This’ll run forever. They don’t make ’em like that anymore.”
Skye peered at the engine. It was clean enough to eat from. She looked at Vince with raised brows. He shrugged and leaned against his Jeep.
“Here, sit behind the wheel.” Charlie opened the driver’s door, and May shoved Skye inside.
“Wow,” Skye finally managed to say. “This leather is so soft.” The front bench was mostly white with broad aqua stripes running down both edges, a double band down the middle. The seat was wide and comfortable.
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