Murder of the Cat's Meow: A Scumble River Mystery

by Denise Swanson

  “No.” Vince’s tone was defensive. “Why do you think that?”

  “Because she’s knitting baby blankets and her goose is dressed like an infant,” Loretta shrieked. “If you didn’t tell her, why is she doing that?”

  “How should I know?” Vince’s voice cracked. “I swear on my drum set, I didn’t say a word to anyone.” He tried to calm his hormonally crazed wife with humor. “Maybe Mom has ESP, or she’s been rifling through our trash can and saw all the pregnancy-test kits.”

  After a few more minutes of bickering Skye interrupted. “It’s probably just wishful goose dressing. Doubtlessly Mom has been planning the birth of her grandchild since the moment she found out you and Vince got married.”

  “Maybe.” Loretta sounded skeptical. “But if she knows before my mom, someone’s goose is going to be cooked, and it won’t be mine.”

  “Anyway…” Skye didn’t know what else to say. Having met Loretta’s mother, she sympathized with her friend’s panic. Mrs. Steiner was even scarier than May. “I still want you in my wedding even if you have to waddle down the aisle. It’s not how you look, it’s that you’re the person I want with me on that day.”

  “Then of course I’ll be your bridesmaid,” Loretta assured her, then laughed. “Unless I’m already pregnant and just don’t know it yet. In that case, the baby may be born the day of your wedding.”

  “No.” Skye shuddered at the thought of May crazed with both a wedding and a birth. “I’m ordering you to hold it in until I get back from my honeymoon.”

  “Sure,” Loretta mocked “I’ll get right to work on that.”

  Loretta and Skye talked for another half hour before saying good-bye. Skye hung up and yawned, then looked at the clock. Holy mackerel! It was going on eleven. Why hadn’t Wally phoned? She had call-waiting, so she knew she hadn’t missed him.

  Skye shivered. Maybe he was hurt. What if Elijah had attacked him? Wally wouldn’t want to shoot an unarmed suspect, so he might have tried to take down the huge man on his own and been injured. As worse and worse scenarios piled up in Skye’s mind, she heard the door opening.

  She ran to the foyer, saw that it was Wally, and flung herself into his arms. “Are you okay?” she asked with a catch in her voice. “What happened? It’s been so long that I was getting nervous.”

  “I’m fine, darlin’.” He hugged her close with one arm and stroked her hair with his free hand. After kissing her eyes, cheeks, and lips he said, “Sorry to worry you. But you were right. Jacobsen was hiding in the miniature golf course, just like you thought.”

  “So you got him?” Skye asked. “And no one was hurt? Not any of the police officers or Elijah?” When Wally nodded, she stepped out of his embrace and took his hand, tugging him fully inside the house.

  “It took us a long time to search Wilderness Falls,” Wally explained as she led him into the kitchen. “What with the batting cages, the arcades, and the two golf courses there was a lot of ground to cover.”

  “But he was there?” Skye asked, wanting to hear again that she’d done the right thing in sending Wally to the amusement area.

  “Yep.” Wally took off his utility belt and tie, then sank wearily onto a chair. “And lucky for us, this time of year the place shuts down at dark so we didn’t have to worry about civilians being in harm’s way while we searched.”

  “Are you hungry?” Skye wanted to hear all the details, but Wally looked so worn-out, she made herself wait to question him. “I’ve got some leftover lasagna and garlic bread I could heat up.”

  “I’m starving.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “And I’d kill for a beer.”

  Skye opened the fridge, grabbed a Sam Adams, and twisted off the top before handing the bottle to Wally. While he drank, she microwaved his dinner, then put the steaming plate of food in front of him.

  She waited patiently until he had eaten, then got him another beer and said, “Start at the beginning and tell me everything.”

  “Four Bolingbrook police officers were at Wilderness Falls when we arrived and they had already explained the situation to the manager, so we were able to start searching immediately.” Wally got up and opened the freezer. “The batting cages and arcades were easily eliminated, but the golf courses are full of places to hide.”

  “I bet.” The picture on the coupon had shown a cave and a waterfall.

  “The forty-foot mountain was the hardest.” Wally came back to the table with a container of Ben and Jerry’s Chocolate Therapy.

  “So where was he hiding?” Skye demanded, dying to know where such a large guy could hide from six police officers for so long.

  “Inside a bear.” Wally handed Skye a spoon and dug in with his.

  “What?” Skye stopped in midbite. “He gutted a bear and crawled inside?” Did Illinois even have bears? She was fairly sure it didn’t.

  “Not exactly.” Wally licked his spoon. “Wilderness Falls hosts a lot of events, and someone had brought a bear costume for a party and left it there. Jacobsen borrowed the getup and has been wearing it around the mini golf course for the past several days.”

  “I’m surprised whoever owned the costume didn’t come back to pick it up. Surely he or she missed it. And aren’t those outfits expensive?”

  “It looked pretty cheap to me. Probably under a hundred bucks.” Wally polished off the remaining ice cream in the carton. “I’m guessing whoever left the thing only got it for the party and didn’t care enough to go back for it. Or maybe they lived out of state.”

  “And no one noticed that there was a bear walking around that shouldn’t be there?”

  “The employees thought he was a new mascot, and the shift supervisor thought corporate had hired him. They already have a moose.” Wally shrugged. “The kids loved him and he didn’t cause any trouble, so…”

  “Then how did you figure out Elijah was in the bear costume?”

  “The manager was going over the list of employees, and I noticed that no one was scheduled to be a mascot,” Wally explained.

  “That was smart.” Skye patted his arm. “Where did Elijah sleep and how did he eat for the past four days or so?” she asked slowly, still trying to picture the ex-doc dressed up like Smokey.

  “He camped inside the arcade.” Wally got up, stretched, and yawned. “There were plenty of pizzas, hot dogs, and sodas around.”

  “Hmm.” Skye cleaned off the table. “How did he get to Bolingbrook if his car was found at the rec club?”

  “Jacobsen claims God told him to park the car at the club and make his way into the wilderness on foot.” Wally made a face. “Anyway, he said the only wilderness he could think of was the Wilderness Falls he’d seen advertised on a coupon, so that’s where he headed.”

  “Just like I thought.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “But that has to be at least a forty- or forty-five-mile hike.” Skye visualized the route between Scumble River and Bolingbrook.

  “He said it took him two days.” Wally started to wash the dishes. “He slept in some barn along the way.”

  “Did he resist arrest when you nabbed him?” Skye dried a plate and put it away.

  “Not at all.” Wally shook his head. “Actually, he seemed relieved.”

  Once they were finished tidying up the kitchen, Skye and Wally climbed the stairs, both turning in to the master bath. When Wally stepped into the shower, Skye was tempted to join him, but his fatigue was evident. Not to mention that Mrs. Griggs’s ghost was clearly still haunting the house.

  Sighing, Skye brushed her teeth and applied moisturizer around her eyes, then put on her comfy nightshirt. This was clearly not the time for a sexy nightgown.

  When Wally finished drying off, he put on a clean pair of boxer briefs, brushed his teeth, and they both headed into the bedroom.

  As Skye set the alarm for six a.m., she asked, “Where is Elijah now?”

  “The county jail.” Wally pulled down the covers and stretched out on the mattress. When his head hit th
e pillow, he let out a blissful sigh, then said, “We took him straight there from Bolingbrook.”

  “So you’re going to interrogate him tomorrow?” Skye asked as she crawled into bed and snuggled against his side, listening to his heartbeat.

  “There’s no need,” Wally mumbled, already half-asleep. “He confessed.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Catcall

  Despite setting the alarm the night before, Skye and Wally overslept. They didn’t wake up until a few minutes before seven, when Bingo meowed in their ears demanding his breakfast. Skye took one look at the clock and made a leap out of bed that might have earned her a spot as a prima ballerina in the Bolshoi Ballet.

  If Skye didn’t sign in at the high school by seven twenty, Homer would read her the riot act. Even though he rarely got there before eight a.m. himself, when he did arrive, the principal scoured the time sheet for any employee who had been late. Once he found a victim, he tracked the unfortunate person down and loudly harangued his prey.

  A screaming principal would be an unpleasant way to start a Friday morning—or any morning, for that matter.

  Wally sat up and asked Skye, “Do you want me to get you a cup of tea or coffee?” Since his shift didn’t start until eight, he had plenty of time to make the short drive into town. Besides, he was the boss, so there was no one to hassle him even if he showed up late.

  “No.” Skye rushed past him into the bathroom, calling over her shoulder, “Besides, all the coffee beans in Kona and all the tea leaves in China won’t make me a morning person.”

  “Okay,” Wally said to her back. “I’ll feed Bingo and give him fresh water.”

  “Great.” She added, “Don’t forget to clean his litter box. We don’t want any unpleasant surprises in our shoes from Mr. Fastidious.”

  With no time for a shower, Skye twisted her hair into a loose bun on top of her head, threw on black slacks and a leopard print twinset, and applied a dusting of bronzer to her face. After a quick inspection, she also added a sweep of mascara, patted on some under-eye concealer, and applied bronze lipstick.

  Ten minutes later, as she sprinted for the front door, Wally handed her a paper sack and yelled after her, “Meet me at the PD when you finish work today.”

  “Thanks, sweetie.” Skye’s words became more and more indistinct as she ran down the porch steps. “See you around four.”

  Hoping that the fact that she was sleeping with the police chief would save her from a speeding ticket, Skye pressed the Bel Air’s accelerator to the floor and raced the Chevy down the road at twice the speed she usually drove. Four minutes later, tires squealing, she turned into the high school’s faculty lot. It was already seven nineteen, and of course there were no spaces anywhere close to the building, so she was forced to park in the worst spot—the one by the Dumpster at the very back of the lot. Grabbing her shoulder bag, she bolted out of the car and dashed for the school’s front door.

  She tore across the threshold and glanced at the massive clock hanging on the wall to her left. She was a minute late. There was no one at the counter, and as she approached, Skye could hear the Xerox machine whirring in the adjoining office. Opal must be busy making copies, which meant she hadn’t seen Skye’s entrance.

  Picking up the pen chained to the sign-in clipboard, Skye hesitated. Could she get away with writing seven twenty instead of seven twenty-one?

  She looked around. There were no witnesses. She chewed her lip, trying to come up with a good rationalization for the deceit, but nothing came to her. Putting down the wrong time was cheating. If Homer yelled at her for being sixty seconds late, she would just remind him of all the occasions when she had stayed for meetings long after the official end of her day. Yeah. Right. That would work.

  After signing in with the correct time, Skye retrieved the papers from her mailbox and headed toward her office. She greeted several teachers on her way down the hall, then settled in behind her desk and flipped open her appointment book. There was only one entry—a reminder about the Doozier homework transport. No PPS meetings, parent consultations, or multidisciplinary committees. Wow! She might actually be able to work with some kids today. Easing back in her chair, Skye took the bag Wally had handed her out of her tote and opened it. Inside, he had packed her both a breakfast—Diet Coke and a package of brown-sugar cinnamon Pop-Tarts—and a lunch—a ham sandwich and a Raspberry Zinger. Shoot! Another day when she wouldn’t make her healthy-eating goal. And when had he found her stash of Hostess snack cakes?

  After opening her soda, she tore off the top of the pastry’s foil pouch, and enjoyed her delayed breakfast. As she ate, she planned her schedule.

  Late morning, after finishing the academic assessment of a student going through a re-eval, Skye phoned the junior high to see if Junior’s assignments were ready for her to pick up and deliver.

  Ursula Nelson, the school secretary, answered with a brusque, “Yes.” She was a gruff woman who didn’t seem to like anyone, and who, when spoken to, always appeared annoyed at the interruption.

  After Skye made her inquiry, Ursula said with a snort, “Mr. Doozier called a few minutes ago. Apparently he is too busy to deal with his son’s missing work and feels the teacher can catch him up on Monday.”

  Before Skye could inquire about Earl’s hectic calendar, Ursula hung up. As per her usual habit, the secretary did not say good-bye.

  Although Skye was happy not to have to interrupt her day with a trip to Doozierland, she was a bit concerned. The Dooziers were famous for being bone-lazy, so a busy Earl was almost certainly up to no good. He was probably knee-deep in another get-rich-quick scheme, like the petting zoo from which the lion he had rented escaped, or the paintball adventure that had resulted in Skye’s resembling an Oompa-Loompa.

  Still, not having to make the trip saved her at least a couple of hours, which meant she could complete another portion of the psychological evaluation, and then perhaps even get a start on scoring the tests.

  When Skye took a breather at noon, she realized that Homer hadn’t come looking for her regarding her late arrival and she had wasted all that angst for nothing. Either Homer had bigger faculty to fry, or he was taking the day off. She’d noticed that lately he was rarely at school on Fridays. Did she dare to hope he was using up his sick days and this was a sign that he might be retiring soon?

  Deciding to have lunch with Trixie, Skye took her brown bag to the library workroom. Ever since Trixie had made up her mind to write a book, she almost always spent her breaks there. As they ate, Skye told her friend about Elijah’s arrest and confession; then for the next twenty minutes the women discussed the case and Skye’s wedding.

  As Skye got up to go back to work, she mused, “I wonder why Mrs. Griggs will let Wally and me sleep together in the same bed, but not make love? She seems fine if we cuddle, but not much more.”

  Trixie ate the last bit of her Suzy Q, then said, “Maybe she doesn’t believe in premarital sex, and once you’re legally wed she’ll be okay.”

  “Wouldn’t that be nice?” Skye threw away their trash. “Hmm. If your theory is true, maybe it wasn’t Mrs. Griggs who turned off my alarm this morning. I suppose Bingo could have stepped on the OFF button.”

  “I wouldn’t put it past him. He’s a smart cat.” Trixie wiped the worktable down with a napkin, then said, “On a completely different subject, how do you feel about Elijah pleading guilty?”

  “I just don’t understand how he did it.” Skye wrinkled her brow. “With his brain injury, I would have sworn he was incapable of pulling off that kind of crime.” She paused. “Guess I was wrong.”

  After saying good-bye to Trixie, Skye headed back to her office, her mind on Elijah. Even though he had confessed, she still felt sorry for him. The poor man had been through so much in his life—losing both his profession and his fiancée. The only scenario Skye could come up with was that he had killed Alexis in an impulsive act of rage brought on by the woman’s continual bullying. But then, how the victim�
��s car had ended up in front of Kyle’s house remained a mystery.

  Certainly Alexis’s harassing behavior didn’t justify Elijah’s murdering her. No one deserved that. Nevertheless, Skye hoped his sister would find him a good attorney.

  When Skye arrived at the police station at a little after four, Wally greeted her at the door. Instead of his uniform, he was dressed in black jeans, a black long-sleeve T-shirt, and a leather jacket. While explaining where they were going, he hustled her out of the building, across the parking lot, and into his personal vehicle, a sky blue Thunderbird.

  “Uncle Dante wants you to do what?” Skye asked. “And you agreed?”

  Wally slid into the driver’s seat. “I’ll tell you all about it on the way.”

  As Skye buckled up, she demanded, “But why did you agree to be Uncle Dante’s security guard at his self-storage facility auction?”

  “Because the mayor requested a police presence.” Wally put the T-Bird in reverse.

  They had only found out five months ago that Dante owned a self-storage business, when he admitted that some of the police files—the ones that were over ten years old—were warehoused there. Without informing Wally, Dante had had the city hall custodians move everything from the PD’s basement to his place and was charging the city rent.

  If Skye didn’t know how small-town government worked, she might have wondered how the chief of police could be unaware of where all the records were kept, even documents that were stored long before he became the boss. But in a good-old-boy regime, unless you knew the right question to ask, no one would volunteer the information.

  “So you’re the police presence?” Skye twisted to look at Wally.

  “Yes.” Wally’s gritted his teeth. “Since his facility is in Laurel, it’s out of my jurisdiction, and more important, I refused to have my men do Dante’s private work while on the public’s dime.”

  “So, instead of compromising your officers, you’re doing it on your own time for free. Right?” Skye asked with a sidelong glance.