Murder of a Pink Elephant

by Denise Swanson

  Finally, fifteen minutes later, the band finished its last song and started to pack up.

  Skye and Simon climbed onto the stage. “You guys sounded great,” she said to her brother.

  “Yeah.” Vince paused in putting a drum into a black case to wipe off his sweaty forehead with his arm. “Not bad, considering we had to substitute some equipment and were playing with a new vocalist.”

  “She has a nice voice,” Simon commented.

  “Yeah, I think she’s going to work out well, if we get some other stuff straightened out.” Vince shot Skye a look.

  “Speaking of that,” Skye leaned closer to Vince and lowered her voice, “have you mentioned her involvement with Logan to Wally?”

  He shook his head and refused to meet her eyes.

  “Then I’ll have to.”

  “No!” Vince took a breath. “I mean, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  Simon’s expression was puzzled. Skye hadn’t told him about Heather. Now she filled him in, and he agreed. “Vince, it’d be a good idea for you to be the one to tell Wally about Heather’s involvement with Logan and the rest of the band.”

  “Someone will spill the beans, and the rest of you will look really guilty.” Skye took Vince’s hand. “Maybe we should talk to Wally about Heather together.”

  He nodded reluctantly. “Okay, but she doesn’t have anything to do with Logan’s death.”

  Skye was concerned by her brother’s defense of the groupie. That couldn’t be a good thing. “I’ll pick you up at five to seven tomorrow and we’ll go to the police station. Wally works the seven-to-eleven shift, so he’ll be just signing on when we get there. I’ll call the school and tell them I’ll be an hour or so late, due to a family emergency.”

  “But I have a seven-thirty appointment tomorrow.”

  “Cancel it.” Skye took Simon’s arm and started toward the stairs. “See you tomorrow.”

  Simon and Skye drove to her cottage in silence. As he turned into her driveway, he said, “Vince could be in a lot of trouble. The information about Heather makes him look bad.”

  “I know.” Skye felt her chest tighten at the thought of her brother’s situation. “I wish I knew what to do.”

  “Wally’s fair. The best thing you can do is to make sure Vince tells the truth, the whole truth.”

  “Unfortunately, I’m pretty sure there’s something he’s not telling even me, and I doubt he’ll tell Wally.”

  “You don’t think he—”

  “No. Of course not.”

  “But?”

  “But I think he might have a good idea who did.”

  CHAPTER 13

  You’ve Got a Friend

  Tuesday morning was a typical February day in Illinois—dark, cold, and depressing. By this point in the year, eighty percent of the state’s population had started to believe that winter would never end, and the other twenty percent had already absconded to Florida. Skye wished she were one of the latter. She was tired of layering sweaters, putting on boots, and fighting the wind for her hat and scarf.

  At six-fifty when she pulled up to her brother’s door, the headlights on her Bel Air provided the only illumination in the apartment complex’s gray-shrouded parking lot. While she waited for Vince to come out, she tuned the radio to the new station that covered the Scumble River, Clay Center, and Brooklyn triangle.

  The DJ was giving a weather report. “High today in the lower twenties with wind out of the north, making it feel like five below. Tonight will be in the single digits. No change predicted for the rest of the week.”

  Skye shivered and turned the knobs for both the heat and the fan to high.

  Next up on the radio was local news. “Three area youths toppled Brooklyn’s water tower in the early hours of Tuesday morning. Brooklyn’s police chief said the teens used blowtorches to cut through the supports and ropes attached to pickup trucks to drag the tower down. Once on the ground, the flooded water turned to ice, which caused numerous traffic accidents as people tried to drive to work. Arrests have been made, and the offenders are in custody.”

  Skye wondered what in the world was going on—first Scumble River had a fire and now Brooklyn had a flood. Was Clay Center doomed to a plague of pestilence?

  The squeak of the passenger door interrupted her thoughts and Vince threw himself into the front seat. He growled a hello at her.

  “Good morning to you, too.” Skye put the huge car in reverse and eased out of the parking spot.

  Vince sat slumped on the aqua and white leather seat and complained, “I don’t know why I had to cancel a paying customer to do this. The whole thing with Heather is none of Wally’s business.”

  Skye barely stopped herself from snorting and instead said, “I know you like to pretend to be dumb, but remember, I’m your sister. I’ve seen the results of your IQ test, so don’t try to snow me. You know very well why you have to tell Wally about the whole ‘Heather and the band’ affair.”

  “What if Mom is dispatching?”

  Ah, the real reason Vince was being such a pain. “She’s on the afternoon shift. Which is one of the reasons we’re doing this now instead of after work.”

  “Oh.” Vince straightened, looking marginally happier. “Well, that’s one good thing.”

  “I always get a copy of Mom’s work schedule as soon as it’s posted.” Skye parked the car. “Knowing where she is for eight hours every day is one of the ways I can live in Scumble River without going crazy.”

  She and Vince shared an understanding glance as they entered the police station.

  Scumble River’s police department was housed in a red brick, two-story building bisected by a cavernous garage. The dispatcher’s area and the interrogation/coffee room occupied most of the first floor. A small reception area with a counter and a bulletproof glass window took up the rest.

  Skye pressed the button for admittance.

  The dispatcher put down her needlepoint, buzzed them past the security door, and asked, “What brings you two out so early?”

  “We have some information for the chief,” Skye explained. “Is he available?”

  “He’s in his office. Go on up.”

  Vince and Skye climbed the narrow staircase to the small second floor.

  Wally was sipping from a cup of coffee and reading the Joliet Herald News when Skye and Vince stepped into his office. He put the paper down and said, “To what do I owe this honor?”

  Vince was silent, so Skye answered, “We have some information for you about Logan Wolfe.”

  “Have a seat. Coffee?”

  Skye, having tasted the police station’s bitter brew, declined, but Vince said yes.

  Wally called down to the dispatcher for a cup and then said, “Who wants to go first?”

  Vince stared at his loafers without speaking until Skye poked him in the side with her elbow. “Uh, I’m not sure what, I mean Skye thought we should tell you this, but it really isn’t anything that important.”

  Wally leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers over his flat abdomen. “Just tell me everything, and I’ll pick out the important parts.”

  “It all started when the band first began playing in public.” Vince adjusted the crease on his khaki pants. “This girl, Heather Hunt, decided she was, like, our biggest fan.”

  “Go on,” Wally encouraged.

  “Well, she started showing up every place we played. She’d sit with us on our breaks, hang around after we finished, and help us pack up.”

  “And?” Wally’s chair squeaked as he rocked forward.

  “At first she was really sweet and seemed kind of innocent and trusting.”

  “But?”

  “Then she started showing up at my shop, usually just as I was closing up for the night.” Vince twisted a gold bracelet on his right wrist.

  “You had an affair with her?” Wally guessed.

  “Not really.” Skye kicked Vince in the shins and he added, “I, uh, slept with her a couple of t
imes, but then she wanted me to let her sing with the band, and when I wouldn’t, she lost interest.”

  “Were the other band members jealous while you were sleeping with her?”

  “No. Maybe a little, but no big deal or anything.”

  “What happened after she dropped you?” Wally probed.

  “Almost the next day, she started in on Rod. But that didn’t last more than a week or so.”

  “Who did she go for next, Finn or Logan?”

  “Finn, and then Logan.” Vince’s face was red and he was sweating.

  “So she did the whole band?”

  Vince nodded.

  “How did you guys handle that?”

  “No one really cared, until …” Vince trailed off.

  “Until?”

  “Until she tried for a second round.” Vince’s cheeks had gone from red to crimson. “She thought we owed her a chance to sing with us, and she wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

  Skye, who had been quiet up until this point, said, “So she went from being this sweet young thing to a she-devil?”

  “Yes.” Vince nodded. “She turned into Godzilla with breast implants and a real bad attitude.”

  There was a knock on the door and Wally got up. “So what did you boys do about her?” He took the coffee cup the dispatcher held out, thanked her, and handed it to Vince.

  Vince took a sip, made a face, and put the mug on the floor. “We agreed that if we all ignored her, no more fooling around, she’d get tired of hanging around and go away.”

  “Did that work?”

  “Not really.” Vince reached for the coffee and took a big swallow.

  His eyes watered and Skye wondered if it was from the scorching liquid, the bitter taste, or remorse at making a bad decision.

  Wally, perched on the corner of his desk, glanced at Skye, who shrugged slightly, then asked, “What was Logan’s role in all this?”

  “Uh, how do you mean?”

  A flicker of impatience crossed Wally’s eyes, but his voice was unruffled. “How did he feel about Heather, what did he do, did he agree with the band’s decision to freeze her out?”

  “Logan was hard to understand.” Vince slumped. Wally had asked all the right questions. “He was always looking for an angle, and he didn’t treat women very nice.” Vince took another slug of coffee.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Let me give you an example. The other night, Logan said that the only reason they call it PMS is that Mad Cow Disease was already taken.”

  “A lot of guys talk that way when they’re with a group of other men.”

  “True.” Vince crossed his legs. “But my take on Logan was that he treated women like he treated his TV remote control—something there to give him pleasure, and he just keep hitting buttons until he got what he wanted.”

  “So that’s how he was with Heather?” Wally tented his fingers under his chin and spoke over the tips. “Did he agree to ignore her?”

  “Yes. He agreed.”

  When Vince didn’t go on, Skye interjected, “But he didn’t keep his word. He was with her Friday.”

  “And since he was with her, he must have been up to something.” Vince gazed at the ceiling. “Logan was a guy who always had more than a tattoo up his sleeve.”

  “How did the other guys feel about his reconciliation with Heather?” Wally asked.

  Vince looked at Skye, and she nodded encouragement.

  “They were pissed off. We were all pissed off.”

  After dropping Vince off at his shop and reporting to the junior high school for duty, Skye spent the rest of Tuesday worrying that she had made a mistake in insisting that Vince talk to Wally about Heather.

  As she sat through the junior high’s Pupil Personnel Services meeting, she pondered what Wally had said just before she and Vince left the police station that morning. When Vince went to use the men’s room, Skye had asked Wally if he’d ever located and questioned Rod.

  Wally’s answer had been disturbing. He said that Rod had heard the police wanted to talk to him and had come to the station late Monday afternoon, but neither he nor Finn had much information to share. Both had suggested Wally talk to Vince if he wanted to know more about who might have had a motive to kill Logan. Skye figured the two musicians were just trying to get the police off their backs, but Wally didn’t seem to see it that way.

  That afternoon while she completed a case study evaluation at the elementary school, Skye decided she had better talk to Rod and Finn herself. If those two thought they could frame Vince, it was obvious that they needed someone to explain to them the error of their ways.

  As soon as the teachers’ dismissal bell rang, Skye called Vince to get the musicians’ addresses. He told her Rod was out of town until tomorrow, so Finn was today’s lucky winner in the “Talk to Skye” Sweepstake.

  He lived in one of the new developments near the exit to 1-55. Skye parked by a silver Camaro, proceeded up the sidewalk, and rang the doorbell. Finn answered immediately. Dressed in wool slacks, a button-down shirt, and tie, he looked nothing like the Pink Elephant keyboard player Skye had seen previously.

  “Hi. Do you have a minute?” Skye asked. The social worker who had taught Skye to do home visits had told her it was better to get inside before explaining why you were there.

  Finn nodded and stepped aside for her to enter. “You’ve got good timing. I just got home from work a minute ago.”

  “You work for Com Ed, right?”

  “Uh-huh.” Finn gestured to a chair and after she sat, he settled on the couch.

  The electric company was one of the biggest employers in the area, but lately there had been layoffs. Skye wondered how secure Finn’s job was. She looked around. He had a lot of expensive things. It would take a constant flow of money to maintain this lifestyle. “Sorry to bother you, but I wanted to talk to you about Logan.”

  “Oh?”

  Skye leaned forward. “Do you have any idea why someone would want to kill him?”

  “I didn’t know him that well.”

  Skye raised her eyebrows.

  “I mean other than the band, we weren’t friends or anything.”

  “I see.”

  “Except for rehearsals and gigs, we didn’t hang out together.” Finn loosened his necktie. “He and I didn’t really see eye to eye on much.”

  “Such as?”

  “Morals, values, how to live your life.”

  Skye was silent.

  He elaborated. “You know he was married?”

  “Right.”

  “But he played around with other women.”

  “And you didn’t approve?”

  “No. I didn’t.”

  “Especially Heather, right?”

  “She was a good example.” Finn swallowed. “But we all made a mistake in that case.”

  Skye tried another tack. “How did he make a living?”

  “A little of this, a little of that.” Finn relaxed against the couch’s cushions. “Farming, giving singing lessons, doing odd jobs.”

  Finn clearly didn’t mind discussing Logan’s financial situation, which meant he knew nothing of interest in that area. She decided it was time to drop the bombshell. “One more question, and I’ll get out of your hair.”

  “Sure.” He grinned at her and stretched his legs out in front of him. “No problem.”

  “Why did you tell Chief Boyd that Vince would know who had a motive for killing Logan?”

  Finn straightened, tugged at his collar, and stuttered, “I, uh, didn’t, uh, exactly, uh, say that.”

  “Then what did you exactly say?”

  “I just meant he and Logan spent more time together. Hung out more.”

  Skye stood up. “So you weren’t trying to pin the murder on my brother?”

  “No. Of course not.” Finn struggled to his feet. “Vince would never do something like that.”

  “I know that. And I plan on convincing Chief Boyd.” Skye walked to the doo
r and put her hand on the knob. It turned easily; her escape route was clear so she said, “The question is, although Vince isn’t capable of killing Logan, are you?”

  CHAPTER 14

  That’ll Be the Day

  First thing Wednesday morning, Skye sent a pass to Frannie Ryan. She wanted to see how the girl was coping, now that she’d had a few days to process last Saturday’s frightening experience.

  While she waited for Frannie to arrive, Skye recalled how her visit with Finn the previous day had ended. He’d denied that he had either a motive to kill Logan or the personality to do so, and she couldn’t argue with him. Not that she believed him; she just didn’t know enough about him to refute his claims. She had learned little from her interview with the keyboard player and hoped that her visit to Rod that afternoon would yield better results.

  Frannie’s entrance interrupted Skye’s contemplation, and she forced herself to focus on the girl as she plopped into a seat. “Good morning, Frannie. Hope I didn’t pull you out of anything important.”

  “Nah. Just RE. Since we can’t use the gym, Mr. Cramer has us doing papers on sports in various countries. What a yawn.”

  Skye silently agreed but said, “Seems like the fire has affected all of us.”

  “Yeah. Maybe.” Frannie pulled a curtain of her hair in front of her face and said through the shield, “It was pretty scary.”

  “Epecially for you?”

  “It was my fault for being stupid.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah.” Frannie sighed. “I wanted Jus—someone to see how brave I was, but he was too busy making sure that Bit—the bimbo was okay to notice me.”

  Skye contemplated what to say. Frannie had never really admitted her attraction to Justin, and if she didn’t soon, then she would probably miss her chance with him. Skye phrased her response carefully. “Sometimes teenage boys need a hint that you like them, or they’re afraid to admit that they like you.”

  Frannie’s expression closed, and she said, “Anyway, I was dumb because I came out the emergency door, but then I thought I saw a shadow or something through the window inside near the pool, so I went back in.”