Murder of a Sweet Old Lady srm-2

by Denise Swanson

  “To hell. Care to join me next time?” Skye brushed past him, unlocked the door, and slipped through, letting it swing shut in his face.

  He caught it before it closed and followed her inside.

  She stopped on the threshold of her bedroom, turned, and crossed her arms. “Do you mind? I’m going to take a shower.”

  Frowning, Simon took a step back and Skye shut the door.

  She stood under the showerhead, letting the hot water knead her tense muscles. When her fingers started to wrinkle, she reluctantly turned off the spray and toweled dry. She sat at the bathroom’s built-in dressing table and worked a wide-toothed comb through her tangled curls. I shouldn’t have been so short with Simon. She smoothed lotion over her face and throat. He was just concerned. It was my fault for not getting in touch with him earlier.

  After putting on a pair of denim shorts and a plain white T-shirt, Skye hesitantly opened the bedroom door. Simon was gone. She felt a heaviness in her chest. Why had she treated him so badly? Why weren’t they getting along anymore?

  Angry at herself, and upset from the last twenty-four hours, Skye put a Pam Tillis CD on the player and lay on the sofa. She fell asleep to the beginning strains of “Mi Vida Loca.”

  The doorbell’s persistent ringing woke Skye. She wasn’t sure of the time but it was dark outside.

  A shiver ran up her spine. What if it was Hap Doozier or Gus Yoder’s father?

  She grabbed her baseball bat and went to the door. Looking through the peephole, all she could see was flowers.

  “Who is it?” She raised her voice to be heard through the wood.

  “It’s me. Simon.”

  Skye unlocked the door and held it open. Simon handed her a vase filled with roses. Their scent was intoxicating and she buried her face in the velvety petals.

  While she was appreciating the flowers, Simon had returned to his car. Now he was back, carrying brown bags and a bottle of wine.

  He set the packages on the kitchen table, took the vase from Skye’s arms, and placed it on the counter. “I’m sorry I was so abrupt today.” He held her hands and looked into her eyes. “Your relatives have been giving me a hard time about your grandmother’s autopsy. And then after your tires were slashed, when you weren’t here I was worried.”

  Skye snuggled into his arms and laid her head on his chest. “It was my fault. Lately I’ve been mean to everyone. I’m sorry. I did try to reach you.”

  He stopped her with a finger on her lips. “I know. I finally checked my messages. I had quit listening to them this morning after the fourth time your Uncle Dante beeped me.”

  She nodded sympathetically. “When I think about dying, one of the things that really scares me is that I’ll be surrounded by my family in heaven. I’ll be trapped in eternity with people I don’t even want to spend Thanksgiving with.”

  Simon smiled and hugged her. “You have a really twisted sense of humor.”

  Skye ignored his comment and went on with her train of thought. “My day was horrible, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. Can you believe I had to go into school the day after my grandmother died?” She traced his jaw with her finger.

  Simon turned his face and captured her finger with his lips.

  Skye’s pulse quickened. If I don’t stop now, I may not be able to later, and I’m not ready for this. “Simon, it’s been wonderful dating you these past nine months, and I’m very attracted to you, but I’m just not ready for an intimate relationship.” She paused and looked into his hurt-filled eyes. “It makes things too complicated.”

  Simon held her loosely and stroked her hair. “I’m not going to push you. I know after what your ex-fiancé did, you don’t trust men.”

  “I really, really want to keep dating you, but I also want to be fair.” Skye could feel a tear etch its way down her cheek.

  “Okay, I really, really want to keep dating you, too. But maybe it would be better not to make it an exclusive thing.” Simon wiped her tear away with his finger.

  Who was he planning to ask out? Skye pasted a smile in place. “I’m sure that would be for the best. We just won’t take each other’s time for granted anymore.”

  “Good.”

  With one last hug, she forced herself to slip out of his arms. Her smile was shaky as she pointed to the table. “What’s all this?”

  “Chinese takeout. I know how much you like it.”

  “But there aren’t any Chinese restaurants in Scumble River.”

  “I drove to Kankakee and got it from your favorite place.” Simon smiled.

  “Imperial Dragon?” When he nodded, she went over to the bags and sniffed. “Let me guess what you got. Empress chicken, hot and sour soup, crab rangoon, and shrimp fried rice?”

  “And a bottle of plum wine.”

  “I’ll get the plates and glasses. Then you can tell me what my awful relatives have been doing to you today, and I’ll tell you what the awful citizens of Scumble River have been doing to me.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Pussy Cat, Pussy Cat, What Have You Seen?

  Bingo! She had forgotten all about Bingo. Skye slammed down her cup of Earl Grey tea. Her grandmother’s cat had been locked up alone with no fresh food or water since Monday night, and here it was already Wednesday morning.

  She grabbed the phone and dialed her mother, who answered on the first ring. “Mom, did anyone take Bingo home with them?”

  “Good morning to you too. And, no, I don’t think anyone took the cat. Why?” May was not an animal lover, and had made it clear throughout Skye’s life that four-legged creatures belonged in the barn or pasture, not in the house.

  Gritting her teeth, Skye asked, “Did anyone go over yesterday to feed him and clean his litter box?” She had a difficult time accepting her mother’s attitude toward pets.

  “I doubt it. The police have the house sealed, remember?”

  “Well, we can’t leave him in there to die of thirst or starvation. I’ll call Wally and see if I can pick up Bingo this morning.” Skye put her mug in the sink and rinsed it out.

  “You’re not going to keep that animal, are you? He’ll shed on everything.”

  “Technically, he’s property of the estate. Do you know what Grandma’s will says?” Taking the dishcloth, Skye wiped up the table.

  “Everything is in a Bypass Trust, so she really didn’t have a will.”

  Skye grabbed a pad of paper and a pen from a kitchen drawer. “What’s a Bypass Trust?”

  “Grandpa put everything into a trust, so Grandma wouldn’t have to pay inheritance tax when he died. After his death, all income from the estate was paid to Grandma, but the property itself is jointly owned by me, my sisters, and brother.”

  Skye sat down and made a note of that on her tablet. “Okay, so you’re saying that Grandma didn’t own the estate anymore, but she received the profits from the farm.”

  “Right.”

  “But although you guys own the property, it wasn’t worth much to you as long as Grandma was alive.”

  “Right.”

  Skye tapped the pen on the table. “Then who is the trustee?”

  “Your Uncle Dante.”

  “Shit.”

  “Watch your language, young lady.”

  Standing up, Skye moved toward the wall phone. “Could you call Uncle Dante and see if it’s okay for me to pick up Bingo? If not, find out who’s taking care of him and when they’re going to do it. I’ll call Wally and clear things on that end.”

  Dante awarded Skye “temporary” custody of the cat, pending a valuation by an expert. He didn’t seem aware that a used cat was a liability, not an asset. Wally had agreed to meet her at her grandmother’s at eight to supervise the removal of the feline and his equipment.

  Before leaving for her grandmother’s, Skye called the school to tell them she’d be late. She was scheduled to be at the elementary school in the morning, but had no appointments, so she left a message for the principal that she’d be there around ten.


  It felt strange pulling into her grandmother’s driveway after Monday’s events. She steered the car as close to the back door as the concrete apron allowed. Her usual parking spot up by the garage now gave her the creeps. The dilapidated wooden building seemed to exude animosity.

  Although it was hot sitting in the closed car, Skye was reluctant to get out or even roll down the windows.

  Come on, it must be eighty degrees already, either open the windows or get out. It’s silly to sit in this oven just because you’re scared. Her thoughts were interrupted by Chief Boyd’s squad car pulling up next to hers.

  Skye hopped out of the Buick and smoothed the skirt of her denim dress. “Thanks for coming out here, Wally. Sorry to bother you.”

  “Glad to be of service. I was going to come out here today anyway. I like to take a look-see before anyone else starts in on a crime scene.”

  “You mean no one has even searched the house yet?” Skye tilted her head up and stared at him. “It’s been over thirty-six hours since I found her.”

  “We borrow the crime-scene technician from the sheriff’s department and unfortunately, Stanley County has had several serious crimes in the past few days. The First National Bank in Laurel was robbed Monday night and Judge Fitzwater shot his wife on Tuesday. So since we are not absolutely certain your grandmother was murdered, we received a low priority. The tech should finally be over this morning.”

  “I see.” Skye’s brows drew together. “It’s not so much whether my grandmother was murdered or not, it’s who’s got the most clout in the area.”

  Wally shrugged. “The bank needed to be able to reopen for business and no one wanted to mess up a case involving a judge. That’s how the world works.”

  “I know; I just don’t like it.”

  “The other thing is, since the body was removed and you and your family wandered all over the house, the scene’s already been compromised. There’s not much hope in finding much in the way of evidence at this point.” Wally took her hand. “Not that we won’t try, but a few hours’ delay just isn’t that important.”

  Skye freed her hand and turned away. “Right.” So her grandmother’s murder was low priority. She’d have to do something about that.

  Chief Boyd took her elbow as they walked toward the door. He swept away the yellow tape and unlocked the door. “We’ll have to be careful not to disturb anything more.”

  Before either of them could react, Bingo rocketed past them and took off across the yard.

  The chief started after the cat but Skye stopped him. “Never mind. You’ll never catch him. He’ll come back when he’s ready. In the meantime, let’s get his stuff.”

  He led the way as they climbed the steps from the entryway into the kitchen. “Let me gather everything on the table and you take it from there. Probably any evidence that was in the kitchen was destroyed Monday night when your whole family was here, but I’d like to be cautious anyway.”

  “Okay, I’ll need his bowls, which are there on the floor. And his food is in the pantry.”

  Chief Boyd scooped up the things she pointed out and deposited them on the table. “What else?”

  “His litter box is in the bathroom.” Skye fought a grin. “It might be a little smelly after three days, so you’d better dump it outside.”

  When the chief returned from that task Skye continued, “Bingo’s carry case is in the closet in the next room.”

  Chief Boyd went into the dining room. His face was grim when he returned with the Pet Taxi. “Come with me. Put your hands in your pockets and don’t touch anything.”

  Skye frowned. “Why? What’s going on?”

  He didn’t answer, just led the way.

  Every room had been trashed. Drawers had been pulled out and emptied in the middle of the floor. The contents of the closets had been treated similarly. Even the cushions had been unzipped and the foam removed.

  Chief Boyd stopped in the living room, which allowed them to see into almost all the rest of the house. “Was it like this the last time you were here?”

  “No. You were here, too. You saw what it looked like when Simon took Grandma’s body away.”

  “I just wanted to make sure.”

  “Fine, but remember Mom handed you the key and we all left.”

  “So how did the intruder get in?” Wally murmured, almost to himself.

  Skye ran the layout of the house through her mind. “The basement. There’s a window down there that pops off.”

  Wally looked at her questioningly. “What?”

  “My grandfather’s family house was destroyed by a tornado when he was a young man. They hid in their basement and fortunately no one was killed. The unlucky thing was that they were trapped for days because all the basement windows were too small and they couldn’t get out.” Skye glanced at Wally to see if he was following her. “So, when they built this house they put in a special safety window. You press on two little tabs on the top and it comes right out. Originally it could only be opened from the inside, but years of wear and tear have made it easy to push in from the outside too.”

  He led her back to the kitchen. “Stay here. I’ll check out the basement.”

  She heard his footsteps as they ran down the stairs.

  A few thuds, a couple of muffled curses, and he was back. “Looks like you were right. There’re some fresh marks in the dust by that window. I’ll make sure it’s examined for prints.” Wally looked around the kitchen. “I wonder why this room wasn’t searched.”

  Skye grabbed on to that thought. “So, you think this was a search rather than vandalism. That would prove that Grandma didn’t just die in her sleep, wouldn’t it?”

  “Probably. I think the autopsy will confirm it.”

  “We’d better get this stuff in the car and find Bingo. I promised I’d be at work at ten.”

  After dumping the cat supplies in the trunk of the Buick, they set out to find the feline. He could be hiding almost anywhere. The yard was more than two acres, with the, right half planted in rows of fruit trees.

  There was a small front lawn, a long grassy side area, and an untended expanse in the back of the house. The chief took the right part and started searching among the trees. Skye first checked the front and side sections on the left. When there was no sign of Bingo, she unwillingly headed toward the back.

  Here, the terrain was uneven and covered with tall weeds. She grimaced at her new cream-colored canvas sandals. There went thirty-eight dollars.

  Calling, “Here Bingo, here kitty, kitty,” Skye trekked through the prairie grass, feeling it cut her bare ankles and calves.

  Finally, she heard a yowl and spotted the cat just a few yards ahead of her. He was sitting by a round concrete slab with a cast-iron ring embedded in the middle. The cover, which was supposed to be flush to the ground, was slightly ajar.

  As Skye approached, an odor stopped her. It was sickeningly sweet and smelled a little like the time her refrigerator broke down when she was gone for the weekend. She forced herself closer and grabbed Bingo, who protested the abrupt treatment by squirming and yowling.

  Turning, she ran toward the orchard. “Wally, Wally! Come quick.”

  Skye stopped at the Buick and retrieved the cat carrier from the trunk. She shoved Bingo inside and secured the door then continued toward the trees, calling for the chief.

  He burst out of the grove with his hand on his gun. “Skye, are you all right?”

  She stopped to catch her breath. “I’m fine.” Panting, she explained about the stench.

  They retraced her path until they were a few feet from the concrete slab.

  “Do you know what this is?” Chief Boyd asked.

  “It may be the old well. We were never allowed to play back here because Grandma was always afraid we’d fall into it. I think they covered it when the great-grandchildren were born.”

  Nodding, he tried to move the cover with his foot. It wouldn’t budge. “It would probably be easy to move usin
g the metal handle, but until it’s been dusted for fingerprints I don’t want to touch it. Let me see what I’ve got in the squad car that I can lift it with.”

  Skye trailed him back to his car, and while the chief got some tools and a big flashlight from the trunk, she fed Bingo. They returned to the well.

  The chief inserted a jack handle into the opening. Skye watched the veins pop in his arms as he strained to move the lid. The muscles of his chest rippled under the khaki uniform shirt and his broad shoulders strained against the fabric. Without warning the concrete moved with a loud screech.

  Immediately, the odor intensified and Skye backed away. Chief Boyd covered his mouth with a handkerchief and aimed the flashlight beam down the well. “It looks like a body is stuck about nine or ten feet down.” He turned to Skye. “Can you stand to look? Maybe you know who it is.”

  She screwed up her face and shook her head, but finally moved closer. Putting her hand over her mouth and nose, she leaned forward and followed the stream of light with her eyes.

  Stumbling back, Skye said, “I think it’s Mrs. Jankowski, the missing housekeeper.”

  Chief Boyd had told Skye she could leave, but cautioned her not to tell anyone about their discovery. One part of her wanted to stay and see what the evidence people turned up, but mostly she was thankful she wouldn’t have to view the body as it was dragged from the well.

  She stopped at her cottage to drop off Bingo and set up his equipment. When she opened his case in the foyer, he poked out a delicate pink nose and sniffed. Satisfied, he stepped all the way into the room and proceeded to investigate his new surroundings.

  Meanwhile, Skye filled his food and water bowls, leaving them for him to discover when he reached the kitchen. She tucked his litter box under the sink in the small bathroom off the foyer, and immediately showed him its location.

  Bingo instantly used the facilities.

  “That’s what I forgot, Bingo, a litter scoop. I better make a list and get to the grocery store sometime today.” Skye walked to the kitchen and took a small pad of paper.