Murder of a Botoxed Blonde

by Denise Swanson

  “How?” Trixie stood with her hand on the knob.

  “I have no idea.”

  As they descended the main staircase, they saw Rudy, the groundskeeper, Bryan, the bellboy, and Frisco standing shoulder-to-shoulder across the bottom step. Skye and Trixie eased around them and faced the dozen or so men who had gathered in the lobby.

  Skye gave a small sigh of semi-relief when she saw that at least half of the throng were guys connected to her own group. Her father Jed and godfather “Uncle” Charlie Patukas were there to protect her and her mother—both would be relatively easy to persuade to go home. Owen, Trixie’s husband, would be no problem for Trixie. Xavier, Frannie’s father, and Justin, her boyfriend, were probably there for different reasons—Xavier to take the girl home, Justin to help her investigate the story, since he was the coeditor of the school newspaper.

  And then there was Simon. In view of the fact that he was the coroner and had been in charge of removing the body, he knew about the murder yesterday, and Wally had, no doubt, informed him of the confession. So why was he here? To make sure his mother, Bunny, didn’t get into trouble—a talent she had demonstrated often in the past?

  Still, Skye wished he’d go away. She hadn’t seen him since their fight in the bowling alley basement, hadn’t even acknowledged an “I’m sorry” gift he’d sent, and she certainly didn’t want to talk to him the day after she and Wally had made love for the first time.

  Trixie interrupted Skye’s rumination by murmuring, “I’ll go talk to Owen.”

  Skye nodded, refocused her thoughts to the problem at hand, and joined her father, the most sensible man in the room, and her Uncle Charlie, the most influential. “Dad, Uncle Charlie, what brings you to Scumble River Spa? I can recommend almost any of the treatments, except for the mud bath.”

  Jed gave a slight shake of his head, indicating he did not think this was an appropriate time for Skye’s sense of humor, but before he could speak, Charlie boomed, “We’re here to take you and May home. This was a stupid idea to begin with. Why in blue heaven would you stay here after a murder was committed? Sometimes I wonder about you two.”

  Charlie was a big man, six feet and over three hundred pounds. He owned the Up A Lazy River Motor Court, and sat on nearly every important town committee. He was in his late seventies and although never married, had a reputation as quite a ladies’ man.

  Skye glanced at the men standing around; they had all moved closer, figuratively and literally behind Charlie. Whatever Charlie decided, the rest of the men would go along with.

  She raised her voice, speaking as much to the crowd as to her godfather. “Yes, there was a murder, but the killer confessed and is in custody. The victim wasn’t from here. She had nothing to do with Scumble River. Neither did the murderer. Just two outsiders bringing their problems to our small town.” Skye laid it on as thick as she dared, knowing that most Scumble Riverites had an “us versus them” mentality.

  “But those protestors”—Charlie gestured with the unlit cigar he held between sausagelike fingers—”those Real Women. They want to run this place out of business. Who’s to say they won’t keep killing people until the spa closes?”

  “Margot has increased security. No one will be able to get past the lobby without showing a key card.” Skye made eye contact with several of the men. “The security firm will be here any minute.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question.” Charlie stuck the cigar in his mouth and talked around it. “Suppose those Real Women get past the guards?”

  “The protestors are only interested in models and such. They want the publicity. Killing one of us won’t get them that.” Skye crossed her arms. “And by the way, Uncle Charlie, didn’t I hear they were staying at your motor court? Why don’t you kick them out? Maybe they’d go away if they didn’t have a place to stay.”

  Charlie ran his fingers through his thick white hair, and his face turned red. Finally he said, “It’s easier to keep track of them if they’re at the motor court.”

  “Fine. You keep track of them, and then we’ll all be safe here, right?”

  Several women who had gathered applauded Skye’s speech.

  Charlie nodded reluctantly. “Right.”

  Trixie, May, and Frannie had joined Skye and now linked arms.

  May said, “We’re staying. We’ll be fine.” She looked at the other Scumble River women. “Are you going to let a bunch of kooks ruin your weekend?”

  “No!” they all shouted.

  “Are you going to let your husbands and boyfriends tell you what to do?”

  “No!”

  “Do you want to stay and get all the massages and manicures and such, or go home and cook and clean?”

  “Stay here!”

  Most of the men retreated like snakes slithering back into their holes, but Xavier, Justin, and Simon stood their ground.

  Xavier and Justin flanked Frannie, Xavier trying to persuade the girl to leave, and Justin shooting questions at her about the murder. Skye’s first instinct was to go to Frannie’s aid, but the memory of her recent superfluous attempts to rescue Trixie kept her rooted to the spot.

  After a heated exchange, Xavier threw up his arms and stomped out. It was interesting seeing a teenage girl get the better of a Vietnam veteran, but Frannie had grown up without a mother, and she was her father’s daughter through and through—independent and strong willed.

  Justin didn’t give up; instead he loped over to Skye and begged, “Ms. D., you gotta make them let me stay. It’s no fair that Frannie will get the story without me, just because she’s a girl.”

  Frannie glared at her boyfriend. “And how many stories have you gotten just because you’re a guy?”

  Justin had recently had a growth spurt and now topped six feet, but his weight had not caught up. His hair was military short and he hid his long-lashed brown eyes behind thick glasses.

  Still, there was something about him that appealed to a certain type of teenage girl, and he now attempted to use that charm on Frannie. Justin took her hand and drew her a bit away from the others. A moment later Skye heard giggles and whispers.

  Turning to leave, Skye spotted Simon having an intense discussion with his mother across the room. Skye edged closer. Even though she didn’t want to interact with Simon directly, she did want to hear what they were saying. Where Bunny was concerned, it was a good idea to be prepared.

  The wooden staircase banister sat atop a solid marble panel, sweeping dramatically out into the lobby after the steps ended, and Skye concealed herself within that curve. Leaning against the cool stone, she thought of her ex. Simon was tall and lean, with auburn hair and golden hazel eyes. He wore expensive suits as if they were comfortable old blue jeans, and enjoyed the finer things in life. He and his mother had only recently begun to re-form a relationship that had been interrupted twenty years ago.

  Although she couldn’t see the pair, Skye heard Simon say to Bunny, “If you leave, then Frannie has to go too, and surely you agree that she’d be better off at home than running wild around here.”

  Skye edged closer and peeked around the banister, barely fitting between the staircase and a large round cherry pedestal table. Simon and Bunny were standing at the foot of the stairs. He was bending forward, trying to get his mother to see his logic. The contrast between his elegance and Bunny’s flamboyance was striking.

  Bunny answered in her high-pitched voice, “She is not running wild. I’m keeping a close eye on her. She’s researching a story.” Bunny retied the lime and orange chiffon scarf holding her long red curls back from her face. “She’s perfectly safe here.”

  “How can you say that?” Simon’s tone was low and persuasive. “A murder has been committed. Even if the chief thinks he’s found the culprit, he could be wrong.”

  “Oh, poo.” Bunny ran a long red nail down the lapel of Simon’s taupe suit jacket. “You just want him to be wrong because Skye is dating him now.”

  Simon’s normally pale gold c
omplexion turned burnt orange, and his voice became clipped. “One has nothing to do with the other.” His tone forbade any questions or comments. “Skye and I have come to an impasse. I’m not explaining myself to someone who doesn’t trust me. What she does now is her own business.”

  Skye frowned. Clearly Simon’s stand hadn’t moved an inch since she’d last talked to him.

  Simon turned as if to leave, but paused and spoke to someone descending the stairs. “Spike, what in the world are you doing here?”

  Spike? Spike Yamaguchi? Simon’s college friend from California? The woman he’d had an affair with! From her hidden position, Skye couldn’t see whom Simon was addressing, but how many Spikes could Simon know? What in the world was she doing at the Scumble River Spa? Skye crept forward, determined to get a glimpse without revealing her presence; but it was no good. Worse yet, Simon and Spike moved away from the staircase, and now Skye couldn’t even hear them.

  Sure that she was about to reveal herself, she poked her head around the banister and assessed the situation. Simon had seated himself on one of the sofas in the lobby, and although she couldn’t see Spike, Skye could hear the murmurings of a female voice from the cushion next to him.

  Bunny bounced over to join Simon and Spike, and Skye strained to hear what was being said. She chewed her lip. How to get over there without being seen? She spotted a housekeeping cart piled with fresh towels in the corner of the room and darted over to it. Using the cart as a shield, she inched it forward until she was behind the couch Simon and Spike were occupying.

  Bunny had taken a chair at a right angle to the sofa and Skye heard her say, “I still don’t understand. How can you be both Spike Yamaguchi and Nancy Kimbrough? I thought Spike was a college friend of Simon’s. You look way too young to have been in college the same time he was.”

  Nancy was Spike? But Skye liked Nancy. She frowned. The pseudo-reviewer’s friendliness must have been an act. Skye moved the cart a little closer, not wanting to miss a word.

  Simon’s voice became edged with impatience. “Bunny, I’ll explain it all later, once I understand it. How about you give us a little privacy now?”

  Nancy’s pleasant contralto interjected, “Let her stay, Simon. And Skye might as well join us, too. It can’t be comfortable crouched behind the sofa. Besides, she’s the reason I’m here.”

  Simon leapt to his feet and twisted around. “Skye’s here, now?”

  Skye rose grudgingly to her feet and gave a little wave, feeling stupid, exposed, and curious all at once. She took the chair opposite Bunny, leaving Simon and Spike—AKA Nancy—on the couch between them.

  Simon asked Skye, “How long were you there?”

  “Since you started talking to Bunny, before Nan … er … Spike appeared,” Skye reluctantly admitted.

  “How much did you hear?”

  “Nothing since you started talking to Nancy or Spike or whoever she is.”

  “Call me Spike.” Spike ignored Skye’s churlishness. “Nancy is the writer who never showed up.” Spike turned toward Simon and said, “Let’s start over and clear everything up, once and for all.”

  “If that’s what you want, but don’t do it for my sake.”

  “That’s what I want.”

  “Okay.” Simon nodded. “Let’s start with what you’re doing here.”

  “I came to straighten things out.” She shook her head at Simon. “When you told me what had happened between you and Skye after I answered the phone, when you were staying with me in California, I felt like your splitting up was somehow my fault. And I knew you’d never break your promise to me, even if I gave you permission to.”

  “You don’t have to do this,” Simon said. “You have a right to your privacy. Besides, I don’t think telling everything at this point will fix things.”

  “Maybe, maybe not, but it’s time for everything to come out into the open.” Spike’s expression was resolute.

  “So, you came to Illinois to find Skye and explain?” Simon asked.

  “I needed to interview some people in Chicago the first part of this week,” Spike clarified, then as an aside said to the two women, “I’m an investigative reporter.”

  “But how did you get here, at the spa?” Bunny asked.

  “When I arrived in Scumble River, everyone told me Skye would be at the spa for the weekend. So, I decided to come here and see if they had any rooms available. When I arrived, Margot mistook me for this magazine lady who was a no-show. I realized right away it was the perfect setup. I could get to know Skye without her prejudging me. And it worked. We were on our way to becoming friends. At which point I would have explained the mix-up concerning Simon and me.”

  “Mix-up?” Skye yelped. “You call sleeping with my boyfriend a mix-up?”

  “No.” A tiny smile was trying to break out on Spike’s face. “The mix-up was you thinking I was a guy, then when I turned out to be a girl, you thinking Simon and I had a sexual relationship. We don’t and never would.”

  “Why should I believe you?”

  “Because I’m his half sister.” Spike gazed meaningfully at Bunny as she spoke.

  The redhead’s face registered total shock; then she lost consciousness, pitched forward, and hit the ground without a sound.

  CHAPTER 14

  Keep Your Powder Dry

  “You know, for a second before she said she was Simon’s half sister, I thought she was going to say she was gay.” Skye sat with her back to the headboard of her bed, telling Trixie about Spike’s bolt from the blue. “Then when Bunny fainted, I thought we had another death on our hands.”

  “I’m still having trouble putting it all together.” Trixie lay on her side across the bottom of the mattress, her head supported on her hand. “How can Spike be Simon’s half sister and Bunny not know her?”

  “I stayed for the short explanation, but I couldn’t really ask questions. I felt like I had to leave the three of them alone to hash things out. After all, I’m not family.”

  “Which brings up another matter. Now that you know Simon didn’t cheat, where does that leave you two, not to mention you and Wally?”

  “I’m not going to think about that right now.” Skye clutched her head. “First I need to get the whole Spike-as-Simon’s-half-sister clear in my mind.”

  “Okay, tell me what you know.”

  “Until this morning, I knew Bunny had left Simon’s father when Simon was three, then only saw him intermittently until he was fourteen, at which point she disappeared for good.”

  “That leaves twenty to thirty-one years of her life unaccounted for, depending on how you count.”

  “Right. Simon never seemed willing to discuss Bunny’s past, with her or with me.” Skye pursed her lips. “At the time, I thought he didn’t want to know what his mother had been up to, but now I’m confused. It’s as if I never knew him at all.”

  “Simon has always been hard to read,” Trixie agreed, then asked, “So, what did you find out today?”

  “To start at the beginning, when Bunny left Simon’s father, she was already sleeping with the owner of the club she was working at.”

  “And this guy was Asian-American?”

  “Right.” Skye adjusted the pillow behind her back. “A month or maybe even less later, Bunny discovered she was pregnant.”

  “Oh, my. Was abortion legal back then?”

  “I’m not sure, but that doesn’t matter. Despite all of Bunny’s faults, she’s a practicing Catholic. No divorce. No abortion. She was going to have the baby.”

  “Did she know who the father was?” Trixie sat up and hugged her knees.

  “She told the club owner it was him, but since she wasn’t divorced, and I suspect the guy wasn’t really sure it was his kid, he arranged for a black-market adoption.”

  Trixie asked, “How did that turn out?”

  “Surprisingly well. He must have been a smart man. He had two couples lined up, one Asian-American, one Irish-American. If the baby looked more lik
e him when it was born, it would go to the Asian-American couple. If it looked like Bunny, it would go to the other couple.”

  “Did Mr. Reid know she was having a baby?”

  “No.” Skye shook her head. “Once she started to show, she stopped visiting Simon and didn’t go back until she had regained her shape.”

  “So, Spike was born, had Asian features, and was adopted by the Asian-American couple. Did she know she was adopted?”

  “No, she didn’t find out until their deaths, when she was sixteen.”

  “How awful for her.” Trixie winced. “In a way, it must have been like losing her parents twice.”

  “No doubt. It’s always a mistake not to tell children they’re adopted.”

  “Yeah, but sometimes it’s not the kids the parents are keeping the adoption secret from,” Trixie pointed out. “So, let me guess. As soon as Spike found out she was adopted, she tried to track down her birth parents?”

  “Right you are. Her birth father was dead—he was quite a bit older than Bunny—and Bunny was somewhere in Las Vegas, moving from apartment to friend’s house to motel, depending on her finances, which made her impossible to find.”

  “On the other hand, Spike’s half brother Simon was right here in Illinois,” Trixie finished Skye’s thought.

  “A senior at Northwestern University at the time.”

  “So Spike tracked him down and told him he had a little sister?”

  “Yep. That’s why he claimed she was his college friend,” Skye explained.

  “But why the big secret?” Trixie leaned forward. “Why not tell you he had a half sister and was visiting her? Especially once you heard her voice and accused him of cheating?”

  “After Simon told Spike about Bunny, and what she was like, Spike decided she didn’t want to know her mother after all. Spike made Simon swear that he would never tell anyone about their relationship, especially Bunny.”

  “I’m surprised she took Simon’s word for it.” Trixie made a scornful noise. “What if he had been lying?”