“That’s what I thought, too.” The light in Lola’s dark eyes dimmed.
“Was Alexis the woman who came between you and your boyfriend?” Wally asked.
“Yes.” Lola turned her attention to him. “I thought she and I were friends.”
“But?” Wally prompted.
“But a woman like her doesn’t have any real friends.” Lola sighed.
“A woman like her?” Skye asked.
“Alexis constantly had to be reassured that she was smart and wonderful and beautiful. An extra pound, a gray hair, or a zit would send her into a deep depression,” Lola explained. “And she was overemotional—everything was a crisis, not to mention her mood swings.” Lola scowled. “But what should have warned me off was how seductive she was around men, especially at totally inappropriate times. I saw her come on to a grieving widower at his wife’s funeral.” Lola shook her head. “How could I have been so naïve?”
“So why did she pretend to be your friend?” Wally asked.
“Alexis liked pretty things, and she thought everyone should just hand over whatever she decided she wanted. She…” Lola paused as an enormous cat with a pushed-in face strolled into the room.
The feline ignored Skye and Wally, sauntering over to Lola and rubbing against her blue jeans–clad leg. The jewelry maker stroked the cat’s white fur. It purred loudly and jumped into her lap, where it curled up and started to knead her thigh.
Once the animal was settled, Lola continued. “Alexis wanted a piece of jewelry I’d had made. A very expensive necklace. I offered it to her at cost, but she insisted that I give it to her as a gift. She said she’d act as a model for my jewelry and send customers my way.” Lola shook her head. “But I couldn’t afford to do that.”
“What happened?” Skye was pretty sure she knew, considering Lola’s warning to her after she’d faced off with Alexis on Saturday afternoon.
“I overheard her telling people that my jewelry was overpriced because the gold was an overlay and the stones weren’t genuine.” Lola’s mouth thinned. “I confronted her and we had a huge shouting match. Next thing I knew, I caught Kyle in bed with her.”
“Your ex is Kyle O’Brien?” Wally asked, flipping open his notebook. “The photographer?”
Lola nodded. “I call him the Rat.” She pointed to the cat. “Jabba the Fluff was a gift from him. He’s a Persian, which is an extremely loyal breed. Too bad Kyle wasn’t.”
Skye pointed at the portrait. “Is Kyle the artist?” It was clear that the painter had loved his subject. And now that Skye studied the canvas, she notice a white cat curled at the foot of the bed.
“Yes.” Lola’s voice broke and she cleared her throat before adding, “In our happier days, I was his favorite subject. He really is very talented. I think he’s an even better painter than a photographer.” She made a droll face. “But you know what they say, right? Behind every successful man is a woman. And behind the fall of every successful man is usually the other woman.”
“So Lola stole Kyle from you, then dropped him?” Skye asked, wanting to make sure she completely understood the situation.
“Yep.” Lola’s tone dripped with satisfaction. “Kyle makes a nice living as a photographer, but nowhere near the amount of money Alexis required to keep her in the style to which she wanted to become accustomed.”
“Was O’Brien upset when Alexis broke up with him?” Wally asked. He leaned forward, his pen poised. “Did he threaten her or make a scene?”
“Not that I heard about.” Lola stroked Jabba. “He told me he was relieved.”
“Relieved?” Skye asked. “That’s an odd reaction. Did he say why?”
“He said it had felt as if Alexis had cast a spell over him, and once she dumped him, he could finally see what she was really like.” Lola shrugged. “Needless to say, I didn’t believe him and told him to take a hike.”
“Is that why you both participated in the speed-dating event last night?” Skye asked. “Do you think Kyle was hoping you two would be paired up, and, if you were, that you’d give him another chance?”
“I can only answer for myself.” Lola took a wire brush from an end table and started to comb the purring feline in her lap. “I was hoping to meet Mr. Right, but instead I met Mr. Right For Somebody Else.” She sighed. “It seems I have lousy taste in men.”
“The guy you were matched with didn’t work out?” Wally asked, raising a brow.
“That’s an understatement.” Lola sighed again. “Turns out the guy was really into blondes and hit on Kyle’s date all night.”
Wally and Skye spent another half hour with Lola. No matter how they phrased their questions, Lola’s answers remained the same, and finally she glanced pointedly at her watch.
Skye shot Wally an inquiring look.
He nodded slightly, then stood up. “Thank you for your cooperation.”
“No problem.” Lola led the way to the door. “I hope I was helpful.”
Wally and Skye followed her. Skye said good-bye, then stepped onto the outside landing.
Before Wally joined Skye, he said to Lola, “If you think of anything else, call me. Oh, and if you plan to leave the area, let me know.”
“Will do, Chief.” Lola saluted. Before she closed the door, she said, “I didn’t kill Alexis. Someone with a bigger grudge than mine did that.”
Once Wally and Skye were back in the squad car, Wally turned to her and asked, “What’s your take on Lola’s description of Alexis?”
“It jibes with everything other people have said about her.” Skye settled into the cruiser’s seat. “But hearing it all together like that makes me wonder if Alexis had a hysterical personality disorder.” Skye ticked the symptoms off on her fingers. “Constantly seeks praise, overly concerned with physical attractiveness, overemotional, rapid mood swings, and inappropriately sexually seductive.”
“In other words, a woman who in a relatively short amount of time would alienate everyone she came in contact with?” Wally asked.
“Exactly. And her disorder would explain why she worked as a temp. There is no way a woman like that could keep a job for very long.”
“How about a position where she worked alone?” Wally asked, starting up the Caprice’s engine. “Would she be okay in that type of situation?”
“I doubt it.” Skye fastened her seat belt. “It’s not only the personal interaction that would be a problem. Someone like that would lie, cheat, and steal without any remorse because she would feel entitled to whatever she wanted.”
“Interesting.” Wally put the car in gear. “Did you believe Lola’s account of what happened between her, Alexis, and Kyle?”
“It’s hard to say.” Skye leaned her head against the seat back and thought about the past hour. “Did everything take place as she said? Perhaps. Is she still holding a grudge against Kyle and Alexis? Yes. Did she kill the woman who stole her man? Possibly.”
“Hmm.” Wally concentrated on backing out of the long, narrow lane. “If Lola offered Alexis a free piece of jewelry, Alexis would probably agree to meet her in the basement. Greed and power seem to be two of the major forces that motivated her.”
“And Lola is strong enough to overpower Alexis if she caught Alexis by surprise.” Skye dug in her tote for her lipstick. “You couldn’t see her upper arms today, but Lola had a strapless dress on Saturday night and her biceps are impressive. No saggy flesh on her.”
“That gives her motive, means, and opportunity.” Wally turned the car toward town. “Now it’s time to hear O’Brien’s version of the story.”
CHAPTER 11
The Catbird Seat
O’Brien Photography was located on Clay Center’s main street. The studio shared a building with a financial advisor’s office and a Mexican restaurant called Los Tres Caballeros. It was a little past six when Wally pulled the cruiser into a spot in front of the three businesses, and only the restaurant still had an OPEN sign on its door.
“Shoot!” Wally hit
the steering wheel. “We could have come here first if I’d thought to ask Chief Leery about O’Brien’s hours.” At Skye’s questioning look, he explained, “I phoned Clay Center’s chief this afternoon to let him know we’d be questioning suspects in his jurisdiction.”
“I wondered about that.” Skye stared at the photography studio’s darkened window, where large pictures of cats, children, and brides were prominently displayed. “Why did you particularly want to talk to Kyle at his studio?”
“I like catching people on the job. They’re usually embarrassed to be questioned by the police in front of their customers or coworkers, and that throws them off balance. It’s a lot harder to think of a lie when you don’t feel in control.”
“I can see how that would be an advantage.” Skye looked at the nearly deserted sidewalks. “Most people are just finishing up dinner, so Kyle’s probably at home. Are we going to try him there?”
“Absolutely.” Wally threw the cruiser into reverse. “Having the cops show up on your doorstep is almost as disquieting as having them invade your workplace.”
“I should think so.”
“Let’s go see if we can rile him up enough to get the truth out of him.” Wally checked his notebook. “He only lives a few roads over.”
The photographer’s home was a modest bungalow on a tree-lined street in a typical small-town neighborhood. A blue MINI Cooper was parked by the curb in front, and a white panel van with O’BRIEN PHOTOGRAPHY stenciled on both sides was sitting in the driveway.
As Wally and Skye walked past the van, she shivered and turned her head.
“Are you cold?” Wally put an arm around her, tucking her against his side to shelter her from the wind that had kicked up since they’d left Lola’s place. “Do you want me to get your jacket from the cruiser?”
“No. I’m fine.” Skye leaned against Wally for a second. Then, feeling a little foolish, she explained, “It’s just that Kyle’s van freaks me out a little. It seems as if every news bulletin of an abducted child or snatched woman always reports that the bad guy is driving a white panel van. I guess because it doesn’t have side windows it’s the perfect transportation for criminals.”
“I suppose it is.” Wally hugged her. “But it’s also perfect for florists, plumbers, and anyone who has to haul a lot of equipment. Like a photographer who needs to cart around lighting paraphernalia and props and large framed portraits.”
“Of course.” Skye kissed Wally’s cheek. “I’m just being silly.”
“Never.” Wally’s expression was somber. “Believe me, I trust your instincts.”
“Thank you, sweetie.” Skye enjoyed one last cuddle, then headed toward the tiny porch. “One of the things I love about you is that you take me seriously and never patronize me or my ideas.”
“Your hunches have been right too many times for me to ever dismiss one.” Wally rang the bell. “It would be stupid of me to underestimate you.”
When no came to the door, Wally pressed the button again. After waiting a couple of minutes, he knocked. Still no response from inside.
“Looks like he’s not home.” Skye turned to Wally. “What do you want to do?”
“I’ll come back tomorrow.” Wally turned away and started back to the squad car. “I guess I’ll catch him at his studio after all.”
Skye followed, but skidded to a stop. “Hey, did you hear that?”
“What?” Wally retraced his steps and cocked his head toward the house.
“I could have sworn I heard a thump.” Skye moved over to the front window. “I think I see a shadow moving in the wall mirror.”
Wally joined her and cupped his face to the glass. He whispered, “I see it, too.” Then in a loud voice he said, “I don’t see anything. Obviously, O’Brien’s not home. We might as well leave.”
Wally took Skye’s arm and guided her toward the Caprice. Once they were inside, he started the motor, revved it a couple of times, then drove away.
“What’s the plan?” Skye knew there was no way Wally was giving up.
“I’m going to turn down the next street and circle back, which will give us a view of the house.” Wally winked. “With any luck my shouting and the engine noise convinced O’Brien that we left, and while we wait to see what happens, I’ll call in the license number on that MINI Cooper. I have a feeling it isn’t his.”
A few seconds after Wally made his request, May’s voice crackled from the radio. “The plate is registered to Alexis Hightower.”
“Ten-nine,” Wally demanded.
“Repeat, plate is registered to Alexis Hightower.” May paused. “Do you copy?”
“Ten-sixty-nine. Boyd out.”
“What is Kyle doing with Alexis’s car?” Skye asked.
“Good question.” Wally reached for his cell. “Let’s see if its presence is enough to get a warrant to search O’Brien’s house.”
After assigning Quirk the responsibility of tracking down a judge, no easy task in a small county with as few of them as Stanley, Wally said to Skye, “I’m going to run you back to the PD. This could take several hours.”
Skye quirked her right brow. “I take it I’m not invited to the search party?”
“Too dangerous.” Wally punched a number into his cell. “Leery, it’s Wally Boyd.”
Skye couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation so she stared at the O’Brien house while Wally explained the situation to the Clay Center chief. She saw no signs of movement.
She tuned back in to what Wally was saying when she heard, “So if you could send an officer to sit on the place until my sergeant gets here, I’d be much obliged.” Wally listened, then laughed. “You drive a hard bargain, but I’m sure something can be arranged.” Still chuckling, Wally flipped his cell phone shut.
When he didn’t immediately fill her in, Skye asked, “What did Chief Leery want in exchange for his help?”
“To come to our wedding.” Wally’s voice held a hint of amusement.
“Why?” Skye didn’t see what was so funny about someone wanting an invitation.
“Leery’s wife is a Clay Center dispatcher, and it seems your mother has been talking to her about how wonderful our wedding is going to be. Now Mrs. Leery wants to attend.”
“Mom was talking about our wedding?” Skye wasn’t sure she had heard correctly.
May had always disapproved of Wally for her daughter on the grounds that he was too old, too divorced, and too not Catholic. She had also steadfastly refused to accept that Skye and Simon would never reunite, wed, and produce a houseful of grandkids.
“Yes.” Wally nodded, smiling broadly. “Isn’t that mighty interesting?”
“Hmm. I guess Mom is finally accepting the fact that I’m marrying you.” Skye felt a profound sense of relief. “What did you do to win her over?”
“Nothing.” Wally shrugged, but there was a gleam in his eye.
“Spill it.”
“Okay. One day, while things were slow at the station, I saw her making a baby afghan and I commented that I’d never seen her knitting before.”
“Yeah.” Skye shook her head. “It’s a relatively recent interest for Mom, but she’s approaching it the same way she does everything else.”
“Like a competitive sport?” Wally suggested.
“Exactly.”
“Anyway, we chatted a little about her new hobby; then since she seemed to be in a mellow mood, I may have mentioned that now that the annulment is in the final stages, and we can start planning the wedding, I was considering turning Catholic.”
“And?”
“Well, I almost told her that there had been an error on my birth certificate and I was really thirty-nine instead of forty-three, but instead I said that my granddad fathered a child when he was in his seventies.”
“That was a mistake.” Skye tsked. “Not only will Mom be feeding you pomegranates and pumpkin seeds, she’ll be picking out baby names.”
“Actually, she swears by oysters.” Wally w
aved at the Clay Center officer who had pulled his cruiser next to their car. “And she likes ‘Marie’ for a girl and ‘Ernest’ for a boy.”
“Speaking of children…” Skye bit her lip. She’d been putting off having this conversation, but it was time. “How do you feel about fatherhood?”
“As long as you’re their mother, I’d love to have a couple of kids.” Wally took her hand. “But if you’d rather not, I’m okay with that, too.”
“Then let’s keep our options open.” Skye leaned over and kissed him.
By the time Wally dropped Skye off at the PD to pick up her car, it was after seven. Having missed lunch and dinner, she was famished, and too tired to cook. The Feed Bag, Scumble River’s only sit-down restaurant, was closed, which left McDonald’s or the deli counter at Walter’s Supermarket. The drive-through window tipped the odds in favor of Mickey D’s, and after picking up supper, Skye drove home.
Clutching the white paper sack of fragrant fried goodies, she stepped across her threshold and nearly fell over Bingo. The black cat sat squarely in the middle of the small braided rug in front of the door and glared at her out of slitted green eyes. His body language conveyed quivering outrage at having been left to starve.
After taking care of Bingo’s need for food and a clean litter box, Skye took her dinner into the sunroom and curled up on the white wicker love seat. As she ate, she read through her ghost-buster file.
Her plan was to give Mrs. Griggs another chance to prove she could behave herself when Wally and Skye got affectionate. However, if the apparition interfered with their love life one more time, Skye fully intended to banish the former owner’s spirit—even if that meant calling Father Burns in to perform an official exorcism.
Several hours later, Skye woke herself with a scream. She felt as if she was being smothered and had to fight her way to consciousness. She’d been having a nightmare in which human-size cats pursued her around the bowling alley carrying fishing poles from which stuffed mice dangled. Standing on the sidelines watching the chase were other humanoid felines, who were texting on their cell phones.
Murder of the Cat's Meow: A Scumble River Mystery Page 10
