March 16: I can’t stand it anymore. Mother has started to leave boxes of laxatives in my room. She monitors every morsel I put in my mouth. I hated to do it, but today I started taking the diet pills again. I had to. Even Kenny has stopped saying I’m beautiful. I thought because he was older, he’d be less obsessed by my being thin, but he barely wants to have sex with me anymore. I think breaking up with Troy was a mistake.
March 30: The pills aren’t working as well as they used to, so I’ve doubled the dosage. Missed my period this month. An advantage of taking the diet pills I’d forgotten. I guess I was stupid to try and stop.
There was nothing about being pregnant, and Skye was convinced that the teen was unaware that she was going to have a baby. And if Lorelei didn’t suspect, the father surely couldn’t know, which eliminated motives for both Kent and Troy.
April 13: The pills don’t seem to be working anymore. I’m still gaining weight. I measured myself this morning. I’m now officially fat. I’m a size eight. I’ve decided to take three pills at a time.
Skye took a deep breath. That was the last entry, the day before she died. Lorelei must have felt as if she were the bone, and everyone she knew was a dog trying to take a bite. Maybe she had killed herself after all.
No, Skye was almost certain that wasn’t the case. The circumstances just didn’t fit what she knew of teen suicide—no note, no giving away of personal items, and why would she crush the pills into her juice rather than swallow them whole?
The more she thought about it, the more she believed that the killer was Priscilla VanHorn, who had wanted to eliminate Lorelei from competing with Zoë—especially if the woman had found out Lorelei was taking the diet drugs again. It was clear from the diary that Lorelei was used to accepting food and drink from Priscilla. With Troy and Kent out of the running, Zoë’s mother had the strongest motive. She certainly had the opportunity—she had been at the school that morning, and very likely saw Lorelei in the hall. That left only means. The pills would be easy enough to get, but did she have access to that type of juice? Surely, she would have used whatever was handy.
The phone had rung several times while Skye had been reading, and she had let the machine take the calls. Now she dragged herself into the kitchen, poured a can of Diet Coke over ice, and punched the play button.
May’s voice ricochetted off the walls. “Where are you? It’s after nine on a school night. Are you okay?”
Charlie was next. “I heard they arrested Kent Walker. Call me right away.”
The last call was from Simon. “Hi, thanks for the heads-up about Frannie and Justin. Xavier and I gave them a good scare, as you suggested, but we told them they could work off their ‘fine’ this summer around the funeral home. Sorry you were blamed for their crime. I’m looking forward to our youth committee meeting Friday.”
His warm tone soothed Skye’s frazzled nerves. She reached for the phone, but noticed it was after eleven. Too late to return his call.
Instead, Skye got ready for bed. She stretched out on the crisp cotton sheets and tried to relax. Bingo burrowed into the crook of her knees, purring. But instead of sleep, various ways of proving that Priscilla had killed Lorelei played in her head.
By 3 A.M. she was annoyed, by four concerned, and by five resigned to a sleepless night. Fighting fatigue, Skye got up, dressed, and headed to work. At least it was Wednesday. The week was half-over.
Once again, Skye arrived at the high school well before anyone else. Before her swim, she photocopied the diary, intending to give the original to Wally sometime that day. Her stack of evidence was growing. Too bad it didn’t point to any one person.
The first bell had yet to ring, and already she had returned both Simon’s call and her mother’s. Boy, if a person could eliminate the need to sleep, she could really get a lot done.
She was dialing Charlie’s number when he walked into her office and kissed her on the forehead. “So, did Walker kill her?”
“I don’t think so.” Skye craned her neck to look him in the eye. “Sit down.”
“Can’t. I’ve got lots to do this morning.” Charlie ran his fingers through his snow-white hair. “Got to do damage control.”
“Concentrate on the affair.”
Charlie’s face turned red. “But who did kill that girl?”
“I think it was Priscilla VanHorn.” Skye sketched out her reasoning, telling him about her discovery of the diary.
“Not enough to get an arrest.” Charlie paced the room. “Have you told Wally any of this?”
“No. Like you said, I don’t have any proof.”
“I’ll drop the diary off, so you don’t have to be involved with that.”
“Thanks. I think Wally’ll look at it with less prejudice if it doesn’t come from me. How are you going to explain having it?”
“I had a hunch, came over this morning and looked, and there it was.” Charlie moved to the door. “We really need to figure out something before this stuff with Kent Walker permanently damages the school’s reputation.”
I think it’s too late to save our reputation. “It’d also be nice if he didn’t go to jail for a crime he didn’t commit.”
“Yeah.” As Charlie stepped out the door, his voice trailed back into the room, “I’m real worried about that.”
The rest of the day was a total waste. Skye was unable to concentrate on any of her duties or figure out what she should do next about Lorelei’s murder. Finally, a few minutes before the final bell, she had a glimmer of an idea. The key to the murderer’s identity was the juice bottle. It was so unusual that only one chain of stores in the Chicago area carried it. Which meant that odds were, the person in Scumble River who drank it was the killer.
So, if Skye went to the VanHorn’s house and saw bottles of Sea Mist Herbal Enhanced Juice there, then Priscilla was the murderer. She knew finding the drink would never be enough to convict the woman, but she’d figure out how to do that once she knew for sure who the killer was.
Now, what excuse could she use to drop by? A smile crept across Skye’s face. The Principal’s Choice Award. It was given to the best all-around student who excelled in school, the community, and at home. Skye could say she was gathering information on the finalists.
As soon as school ended Skye drove to the VanHorn home. When she explained why she was there, Mrs. VanHorn welcomed her with open arms. “Come in, come in. What a pleasant surprise. I wanted to apologize for hitting your Uncle Charlie the other day at the pageant. I don’t know what came over me.”
“He understands. No harm done.” Skye forced the words out of her mouth, wishing she could say half of what she really thought.
She followed the woman into an overdecorated living room. The walls were covered with pictures of Zoë and plaques she’d won—mostly for second place. A thick rose carpet showed every footprint as the women made their way to the furniture.
Mrs. VanHorn nearly pushed Skye into a puffy, chintz-covered chair. “Sit down. Can I get you something to drink?”
Skye hid her smile. Things were working out just as she planned. She crossed her fingers and said, “Why, thank you. I hate to be a bother, but I’m on a new diet, and the only things I’m allowed to drink are herbal enhanced juices. You wouldn’t happen to have any, would you? I particularly like the ones Sea Mist puts out.”
“Gee, I’m sorry. All we’ve got is Diet Pepsi, coffee, tea, milk, or regular old orange juice.” She twisted the handkerchief she held. “I could run next door and see if they have any of that herbal stuff, while you look at Zoë’s photo albums.”
Skye felt a stab of disappointment. Either Priscilla VanHorn wasn’t the murderer, or she was a lot smarter than she looked. “Oh, I couldn’t put you out.” To be absolutely sure Priscilla didn’t have the juice, she needed a peek in the fridge and pantry. She was counting on the Scumble River code of hospitality, which said you must make every attempt to get the guest what he or she wants.
“Nonsense. It’ll just
take a second. Myrna owes me.” Priscilla turned to leave, but said over her shoulder, “The photo albums are under the coffee table.”
As soon as Skye heard the door close, she shot out of the chair. The kitchen was visible at the end of the hall. She hurried into it and flung open the refrigerator door. No Sea Mist. While she was at it, Skye checked the pantry and the attached garage. No herbal juice anywhere.
She sank back in the overstuffed chair just as she heard the front door open and Mrs. VanHorn’s voice say, “Sorry, no luck. They didn’t have any of that stuff either.”
Skye thought quickly. She needed information on the Ingels, and who best to give it than their number one rival? “That’s all right. I appreciate the effort. Looking at all these wonderful photos of Zoë, I couldn’t help but notice Lorelei and her mother are in most of them.”
Mrs. VanHorn frowned. “Lorna’s so pushy. It wasn’t enough that her daughter won all the contests, she couldn’t even let poor Zoë enjoy her moments as finalist and first runner-up.”
“It was mostly Lorna, not Lorelei, pushing into the spotlight?”
“Definitely. You know that poor, sweet girl wanted to quit, and her mama wouldn’t let her.” Priscilla sat back and sighed. “I suppose now Lorna will focus all her energy on Linette, poor child.”
“I’d heard that Lorelei wanted out, but I don’t understand why.”
“Well, Lorelei wasn’t naturally thin like my Zoë, and she was sick of the pills and the diets, but Lorna just insisted she maintain her size-two figure.”
Skye tsked. “I wonder why it was so important to Mrs. Ingels.”
“I heard an interesting story about that.” Priscilla leaned forward. “Seems that Lorna was quite the beauty-pageant winner in her day. She won all the titles, up to Miss Illinois. And right before she was supposed to compete in that contest, she started to gain weight. Turned out she was five months pregnant. Because she was so thin, she often missed her period, so she had no idea.”
Skye did the math in her head. If Lorelei were the child of that pregnancy, that would make Lorna only thirty-six and Skye knew the woman was older than that. “Did Lorelei have an older sibling?”
“No, Lorna miscarried that baby.” Priscilla clasped her handkerchief to her chest. “So sad. No crown, no baby, and a marriage you’ve been forced into. Not a lot to count for your life’s achievements.”
It took an hour for Skye to extricate herself from Priscilla VanHorn’s verbal grasp. She’d had to look at every album, award, and trophy, and promise to write a glowing recommendation for Zoë for the Principal’s Choice Award before the mother would allow her to leave.
Now she sat at home, rubbing Bingo’s chin and thinking furiously. If Priscilla VanHorn wasn’t the murderer, then it had to be Lorna Ingels. Even though Lorelei didn’t know she was pregnant yet, her mother might have suspected it due to the missed periods, and perhaps thought that Lorelei would go through exactly what she herself had. But was Lorna twisted enough to think she was saving Lorelei by killing her?
The furiously ringing phone aroused Skye from her reverie. Dumping Bingo onto the sofa, she raced the answering machine, and scooped up the receiver up with one ring to spare. “Hello.”
“Oh, Skye, thank God you’re home. We need a favor.”
Skye wasn’t sure which twin was speaking. “Ginger? Gillian?”
“It’s Ginger. Could you go get Iris and Kristin?”
“Now?”
“Yes! They’re supposed to be picked up at six, which was perfect because we were supposed to get off work at five-thirty, but our cash drawers aren’t balancing and the computer’s going crazy and no one is allowed to leave the bank. We’ve tried everyone, and no one is home.”
“Sure, I’ll get them. Where are they?”
“That’s just it. They’re at Linette Ingels’s.”
How convenient. I need to look around that house for the juice bottle.
Ginger continued, interrupting Skye’s thoughts, “Lorna gets so pissy if we’re late picking the kids up from her house.”
This was the first time Skye had ever heard her cousin sound intimidated. She wondered why Ginger found Lorna so alarming. She looked at the clock on the microwave. It was ten to six. “Okay, I’d better go right now. I’ll bring them back here until you get off work.”
“Thanks. We owe you one.”
Skye arrived at the Ingels’ house at one minute before six. Their Polish housekeeper answered the door, and Skye explained she was there to pick up the girls.
The housekeeper gestured her into the foyer and left the room. When she returned she said in heavily accented English, “Girls are watching video with Miss Linette. Tape will be over in ten minutes. You wait?”
“Sure, no problem.” Skye looked around for somewhere to sit. “Are Mr. and Mrs. Ingels home?”
“No, they are out.” The woman turned. “I need to watch dinner. You would like to sit in library?”
“I’ll just sit in the kitchen and keep you company, if that’s okay?” Skye was counting on the housekeeper’s good manners.
A fleeting frown crossed the woman’s forehead. “Sure, sure, this way.”
The kitchen was huge, with stainless-steel appliances and marble counters. The housekeeper tried to steer Skye to an oak table that could seat twelve without crowding, but Skye edged her way to a stool at the counter, closer to the action.
The woman went to the stove and stirred something in a pot, then checked a pan in the oven. Turning back to Skye, she asked, “You would like drink?”
“Yes, thanks.” Before the housekeeper could react, Skye hopped off her stool and scurried over to the fridge. “Go ahead with your cooking, I’ll get it myself.”
It felt awful to be so pushy, and Skye was a little ashamed of herself for taking advantage of the woman, but she was hoping the housekeeper wouldn’t know how to say no to a guest.
Skye flung open the refrigerator door and peered inside. She needed to get a good look before the housekeeper stopped her. She scanned the shelves starting at the top. The bottom shelf contained row after row of Sea Mist Herbal Enhanced Juices.
The housekeeper loomed between Skye and the fridge. “I will get your drink. You sit, please.”
“Okay, thanks.” Skye had seen what she came for. “Could I have a Sea Mist please? Vapor if you have it.”
The woman took a bottle from the shelf and turned to the cupboard.
Skye rushed to stop her. “Ah, I’d prefer it from the bottle, please. No glass.”
The housekeeper handed Skye the drink.
Skye broke the cellophane seal around the neck and twisted off the gold cap. Hearing the pop, she knew that it was safe to drink. As she sipped and watched the housekeeper cook, she scratched at the label to see if it would come off.
The woman’s voice surprised her. “Ah, you are like Mrs. Ingels. She, too, always must try to peel off label of this drink. Then she break her nail and be upset. But she never learns. And I have mess.”
As Skye made sure that Iris and Kristin were buckled into the backseat of the Bel Air, she kept seeing the rows and rows of juice in her mind. While she made the girls toasted cheese sandwiches and tomato soup for supper, she kept hearing the housekeeper talk about Mrs. Ingels peeling off the labels. So, when the twins finally picked up their daughters at nearly eight o’clock, what they had to say didn’t register with Skye until they were almost out the door.
“Whoa!” Skye grabbed Ginger’s arm. “Did you say that there’s a lot of money missing from the bank, and they can’t find Allen Ingels?”
“You never listen to what we say.”
“Sorry,” Skye answered automatically. “Tell me again.”
Gillian sighed. “Well, as we just said, at first, when our drawers didn’t balance they thought it was a computer glitch. Then they started checking further, and all of a sudden Mr. Yates was rounding everyone up and questioning all of us individually.”
Ginger jumped in. “From
what we can guess and what we overheard, over a million dollars is gone from the accounts, and it could be more. And they kept calling and calling, but no Mr. Ingels anywhere.”
“Wow!”
“Anyway, we’ve got to go.” The twins and their daughters swept out of Skye’s cottage, amid hugs and thank-yous.
Silence abruptly descended. Skye tried to figure out what to do with her knowledge. It was obvious she’d have to go to Wally, and how mad would he be that she had seen the diary?
The answer was obvious. The longer she waited, the bigger the chance that something else would happen. Even as she contemplated, the Ingels could be leaving the country for someplace without extradition.
She grabbed the phone and punched in the police-station number. “Scumble River Police, May speaking. Can I help you?”
“Mom, me. Is Wally around?”
“No. You know he works days.”
Skye bit her lip. There was no other choice. “Call him at home and have him meet me at the PD.” She explained the situation.
“I never heard a thing about the bank. Are you sure?”
“That’s what the twins said.”
“That’s where all our money is. What should we do?” Suddenly May sounded weak and old.
“It’s okay, Mom. Even if Allen Ingels did steal a lot of cash, everyone’s money is secure. Remember the FDIC insurance?”
“Right.” May gave a relieved sigh. “Let me call Wally on the other line. You hang on.”
Skye could hear her mother lifting the receiver and talking. No fancy Muzak for the Scumble River police.
Finally, May came back. “He’ll be here in five.”
“See you soon, bye.”
Skye grabbed her purse and headed out the door.
The night was chilly. She had finally managed to get the top to stay up on the Bel Air, but the heat still didn’t work. Even so, she snuggled into the comfy seat and smiled. The car was growing on her, although she’d never get used to the fan club it attracted wherever she went.
Murder of a Sleeping Beauty Page 24
