As she drove home, her thoughts played tag between Bitsy’s odd behavior and Trixie’s money problems. What was wrong with the girl? And what would happen to Trixie and Owen if they couldn’t pay off his mother’s bills?
CHAPTER 3
Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?
Skye was smiling as she pulled into her driveway. The sight of her riverside cottage always soothed away the stresses of the day. She loved everything about the house, from its unusual octagonal shape to the small cupola rising out of the center, like a periscope on a submarine.
In the winter the snow and the frozen river created the illusion of a silent world where time stood still. Spring and summer brought rebirth with water trickling along the shore and trees in bud.
Before going inside, Skye walked back out to the road and retrieved her daily dose of bills and advertisements from the mailbox. She started to flip through the stack as she opened her front door and stepped inside but was interrupted by the meowing of her black cat, Bingo. He sat on her foot and leaned his entire fourteen pounds against her shins, demanding his supper.
Skye threw the mail onto the hall bench, scooped him up, and walked into the kitchen. As she tunneled her fingers through his soft fur, scratching behind his ears and underneath his chin, his purring intensified and his eyes closed in ecstasy. She continued petting him until he wiggled out of her arms and went to sit by the cupboard containing his food.
She grabbed a can of Fancy Feast from the bottom shelf and popped the lid, wrinkling her nose at the strong fish smell as she spooned the food into Bingo’s dish. She put the bowl on the floor and asked, “How can you eat this stuff? It reeks.”
Bingo ignored her question and buried his face in the blob of salmon mush.
Skye shrugged. It was time to get a move on. She had to do a few chores and change her clothes before Simon picked her up at six. Since they both had to work the next evening, they were celebrating Valentine’s Day tonight.
She returned to the foyer and hung up her coat, then headed toward her bedroom. After stripping down to her underwear, she slipped on her robe, gathered her checkbook, stamps, return address labels, and a pile of bills, and headed for the great room. She had gotten paid earlier that week and had immediately deposited her check, so the money should be in her account by now.
She settled on the couch and looked through the monthly statements. Mmm, which Peter would she rob this month to pay which Paul? Or would this be one of the rare times when her income and expenses came out even?
Scumble River was among the worst-paying school districts in the state, possibly the country. Most of the staff worked there because it was too far to drive to a better-paying school district and family situations prevented them from moving anywhere else.
Skye’s story was a little different. After being fired for insubordination from her first full-time job as a school psychologist, she hadn’t been able to find any other position. It seemed that no one wanted a school psychologist who was willing to oppose an influential adult to stick up for a child. It was only due to her Uncle Charlie’s influence as president of the school board that Scumble River had hired her.
She was writing the last check when she remembered the mail she had dropped on the hall bench. Shoot. She padded out to the foyer and sorted out the junk. Of the remaining two pieces, one was her car insurance premium—there went the last of her money—and the other was hand addressed and the size of a greeting card. Was someone sending her an early Valentine?
She slit the envelope and slid out the stiff white square of paper. It was an invitation to a brunch on Sunday hosted by someone named Moss Gibson.
Could he be a relative? Skye couldn’t think of anyone she knew by that name, but distant cousins frequently popped up with no warning. She’d have to call her mom and find out if this Moss Gibson was one of them. But first she’d better get ready for her date.
When she finished dressing, she sat on the edge of her bed and picked up the phone. As usual, her mother answered before the first ring was completed. Skye always wondered how she did that. “Hi, Mom. It’s me, Skye.”
“Everything okay?” May was a champion worrier.
“Everything’s fine.” Skye knew she had to go through the ritual. “How are you and Dad?”
“We’re fine.”
“When I checked your work schedule, I was surprised you weren’t on duty tonight.” May was a police dispatcher and usually covered the afternoon shift from three to eleven.
“I traded. I’m working tomorrow night, so the new dispatcher can have Valentine’s Day off.”
“That was nice of you.” Skye smiled. Her mom always put everyone else’s needs before her own. “But didn’t you want to spend tomorrow with Dad?”
“You know he hates going out on the actual holiday. Everything’s too crowded. We’re going out tonight.”
“Oh. Right.” Skye contemplated sharing her own plans with May but decided against it. She didn’t want her romantic evening with Simon to be turned into a foursome. “Hey, the reason I called was to ask you if we’re related to a guy named Moss Gibson. I just got an invitation to a brunch he’s hosting this Sunday and I’ve never heard of him.”
“We got an invitation, too. I checked with Grandma Denison to see if he was someone from your father’s side of the family, and she said no. And he’s not a relative of mine that I know of.”
“I wonder if he’s selling something.” Skye’d had her fill with home product parties a few months ago, when she’d been forced to attend one every week for several months. “Are you and Dad going?”
“Sure, why not? It’s something to do.” May was not a homebody, and even though her husband was, Jed would go to keep his wife happy. “How about you?”
Skye thought quickly. If her parents were attending, she’d better be there, too. They tended to be a little too trusting and this might be some sort of scheme to bilk them out of their savings. “Sure. Is Vince invited?”
“He didn’t say anything about it,” May answered. “You don’t think his feelings will be hurt if he wasn’t invited and we all go, do you?”
“No. I doubt he’d care.” Skye scanned the invitation. “Mine says ‘and guest,’ so he can come with me if he wants.”
“That’s a good idea. You ask him.” May sounded relieved. “Hey, someone just pulled into the driveway. I’ve got to go. Dad and I’ll see you Sunday.”
As Skye hung up, the doorbell rang. Six on the dot. It had to be Simon. Occasionally she wondered if he circled the block waiting for the precise tick of the clock before pressing the bell.
She slipped on red high heels and went to let him in. In the foyer, she paused to look out the window, just to make sure it was indeed the man of her dreams and not a Nightmare on River Drive.
Although many people in Scumble River still didn’t lock their doors, Skye was a lot more wary. Experience had taught her that things weren’t always what they seemed in the idyllic small town.
Simon’s golden-hazel eyes twinkled at her through the glass. She opened the door and stepped aside, admiring him as he paused on the mat and stomped the slush from his shoes.
No question about it, he was one sexy, handsome guy. Ice crystals melted in his short auburn hair and his tall, lean physique reminded her of Gary Cooper. Although his features hinted at a refinement that was rare in Scumble River and his elegant black wool overcoat would have fit right in at a Broadway opening, he seemed happy in the small town and was well liked by its residents.
Simon finished wiping his feet and gathered her into his arms, thoroughly kissing her before letting her go. “You smell great.”
“Thanks.” Skye laughed. “It must be my fabric softener. I’m not wearing any perfume.”
“Ah, clean clothes,” Simon teased. “The only thing that smells better is freshly baked bread.”
“For that you’ll have to hug my Grandma Denison.” Skye rested her hand on his arm. “How’s the bowling alley comin
g along?” Simon had purchased the business in November and had been having it remodeled since then. When it reopened, his mother would manage it for him.
“Good. We should be ready next Friday as planned.”
Skye almost hated to ask the next question. “How are you and Bunny getting along?” His mother had appeared out of the blue a few months ago, and relations between her and Simon had been rocky at first.
“Not too bad. She’s worked hard and seems to have a knack for the business.”
“That must be a relief.” Skye half turned toward the living room. “Do we need to leave right away, or do you want to stay for a while?”
“Our reservation is for seven-thirty and the radio just said traffic going north on I-55 is heavy, so we’d better get started.” They were going to Chicago for dinner, and ninety minutes of travel time was cutting it close.
“Okay.”
Simon helped her put on her coat, then guided her down the icy sidewalk and tucked her into his car. The Lexus was still warm from his drive over. Skye snuggled into the soft leather seats and made a vow. Tonight she would concentrate on Simon and their relationship.
She wouldn’t worry about Vince and why his band members were acting strange. She wouldn’t think about what Mr. Yoder might do in retaliation for Aden’s suspension or how Trixie would pay off her mother-in-law’s debts. Tonight she would concentrate on having a romantic evening with the love of her life.
Skye frowned and chewed her lip. Of course, Bitsy’s strange behavior that afternoon was cause for concern. She had to remember to look into that on Monday.
CHAPTER 4
Break It to Me Gently
The telephone shrilled next to Skye’s ear and she moaned. Why had she ever thought she wanted a phone in her bedroom? She should have left well enough alone and stuck to having just the one on the kitchen wall.
It rang again and she squinted at the clock radio. Eight a.m. on Saturday—not early for most Scumble Riverites, but Skye was not a morning person. Reluctantly she reached for the receiver. The caller had to be her mother; all her friends knew better than to phone before ten on a weekend.
May’s voice blared from the earpiece. “Do you know what happened last night?”
Skye straightened and clutched the receiver. “No. What happened?”
“That’s what I want you to find out,” May answered. “Vince has a bruise on his forehead the size of a pie plate.”
“Did you ask him how he got hurt?” Skye hated it when her mother tried to get her to snitch on her brother.
“How could I? I haven’t seen him, and I don’t want to call him at work. Saturday is his busiest day.” May never let logic stand in the way of her goal.
“If you didn’t see him, how do you know he’s bruised?” Skye’d had way too little sleep to be able to handle this conversation.
“Uncle Emmett had a seven o’clock hair appointment. He told Aunt Minnie as soon as he got home. She called me.”
Skye should have known. Her Aunt Minnie, May’s middle sister, had the best sense of rumor in town.
May’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Are you still there?”
“Yes, I’m here.” What was Vince doing cutting hair at seven a.m.? She’d have to have a talk with him about opening up so early. He was making her look bad.
“You need to find out what happened to your brother.”
Skye closed her eyes. “It’s really none of our business. He could have run into a door or slipped in the shower.”
“Maybe I should go over to the salon and bring him chicken soup or some cookies.” May solved most problems with food.
“No!” The last thing Vince would want was their mother showing up and treating him like a baby in front of his customers. Skye gave in. “I’ll stop by when I run my errands, and if he needs anything, I’ll call you.”
“Well, I do have a couple of pies in the oven for the church bake sale and I really can’t leave them, but call me the minute you find out what happened. You know how I worry.”
“Yes, I do and I will. Bye.”
“Bye.”
Skye replaced the handset in the cradle and sank back on the pillows. The rustling of sheets next to her drew her attention, as did the hand caressing her thigh. She and Simon had finally figured out a discreet method of spending the night together.
Skye had met Simon when she returned to Scumble River nearly three years ago. They had dated for almost a year, broken up over Skye’s unwillingness to take their relationship to the next level, and then started seeing each other again nine months ago.
In September, they had finally taken the big step and spent a weekend in a Chicago hotel. It was only after they returned from that idyllic interlude that they realized how hard it would be to keep the intimate side of their relationship secret.
Scumble River was a small town with old-fashioned morals and sensibilities. Unmarried couples did not openly sleep together, although what went on behind closed doors was another matter. But Skye’s mother was a police dispatcher, both Skye and Simon had jobs that put them in the public eye, and they each drove distinctive cars. For them, privacy was hard to come by.
They had tried several different ways to spend the night at each other’s houses without advertising their activities. Currently they were testing Plan D—Operation Drop-Off.
At the end of their “official date” Simon dropped Skye at her cottage. She then got into her car and followed him to his house, where he put his Lexus in the garage and rode back to Skye’s cottage with her.
Since it was only a five-minute drive round-trip, it wasn’t too tiresome a scheme, especially when one of the rewards was waking up the next morning beside each other in a warm bed. Not to mention what took place once they were awake.
Much later, after they had showered and while Skye was combing out the wet tangles in her hair, Simon abruptly left the bedroom. He came back a minute later, handed her a small velvet jeweler’s box, and said, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
Skye became instantly wary. Could it be an engagement ring? Did she want it to be? What should she say if it was? She had no idea and didn’t really want to figure out the answers to those questions at this point in their relationship. After what felt like an eternity but was probably only a second or two, she managed to choke out, “Uh, thank you. What a surprise.”
“Aren’t you going to open it?”
“Sure.” He wasn’t getting down on one knee, which had to mean something, right? “I, uh, was just trying to remember where I put your present.”
“Never mind that; open your gift.”
She eased the lid up with the same caution she would have used unwrapping a package from the Unibomber. A green sparkle made her relax for a moment, and she flipped the top all the way open. A beautiful pair of antique emerald earrings was nestled on a cushion of velvet.
Skye threw herself in Simon’s arms, raining kisses on his face and neck. “They’re wonderful. They match the emerald ring Grandma Leofanti gave me. How did you find them?”
“I remembered your cousin Gillian got the earrings when your grandmother died, and I asked her if I could borrow them to have them copied.”
“That is so sweet. Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.” His hands moved gently down her back. “You said something about my Valentine’s Day gift.”
“Oh, right. I’ll go get it.” She made a move to slip out of his arms, but he tightened his grip and kissed her.
As his lips traced a fiery trail down her neck, he murmured huskily, “Don’t bother. I think I can find it myself.”
It was nearly ten-thirty by the time they finally made it to the kitchen for breakfast. Simon was drinking his first cup of coffee and admiring the digital camera Skye had given him for Valentine’s Day when he asked, “Was that your mom on the phone earlier?”
“Yes, Uncle Emmett had his hair cut this morning and noticed a bruise on Vince’s forehead, which was all it took for the family
to go on red alert.”
“What happened to Vince?”
“I have no idea.” Skye took a sip of her tea. “My orders are to find out and report back to headquarters.”
Simon buttered a slice of toast and handed it to her. “It’s pretty hard to keep a secret in this town.”
She planted a kiss on his bare shoulder. “We seem to be doing a pretty good job of it.”
“Maybe. But I bet a lot of people know exactly what we’re up to and are just letting us think we’re getting away with something.”
“That’s fine with me, as long as no one says anything to my face. I blush way too easily to discuss this.” She slipped a hand beneath the towel he wore around his waist. “Or this either.”
After she dropped Simon off at his house, Skye drove to her brother’s salon. It looked completely different in the daytime, especially without four grungy musicians spread throughout the room and loud music reverberating off the walls.
Vince was just handing a customer her change when Skye entered, and she waited for the door to close behind the woman before speaking. “Hi. Mom called me this morning.”
Vince touched the bruise on his forehead. “Uncle Emmett?”
“Yep. He spilled the beans to Aunt Minnie, who immediately called Mom.”
“And she wants you to find out what happened?” Vince started to sweep the snips of hair littering the floor.
“Got it in one guess.” Skye held the dustpan for him as he pushed the pile of hair into it. “I told her maybe you had hit your head on a door or slipped in the shower.”
“Hey, I like that last explanation. I think that’s the one I’ll go with.”
“Fine. How did you really get hurt?”
“It’s not important.” Vince went behind the counter and started counting money from the cash drawer into a vinyl pouch.
“Why don’t you want to tell me? You know I won’t tell Mom if you don’t want me to.”
Murder of a Pink Elephant Page 3
