Murder of a Sweet Old Lady srm-2

by Denise Swanson

  Neva refused to meet Skye’s eyes. “Since the boy was already notified, we thought it might be better if you told him he won’t be getting the award after all. We’re sure you can put it to him gently and make him see it’s for the best.”

  “Who are we talking about?” Skye stalled.

  “Justin Boward.” Mona’s lips twisted as if she tasted something putrid.

  “The eighth-grade English teacher was most impressed with his writing,” Neva added. “Although his topic was somewhat controversial.”

  “Exactly. Neal would be appalled if I allowed a pro-choice essay to win a prize. After all, he is the head of the Knights of Columbus.” Mona straightened a pleat in her white silk skirt. “It is inappropriate for someone like this boy to triumph. People would think that we approved of his type of good-for-nothing behavior.”

  Skye picked her words carefully, fully intending to maintain the confidentiality of her sessions with Justin. “I’ve worked with Justin all year. He’s a youngster who, although very smart, refuses to put any effort into doing well at school. As you know, he is passing eighth grade by the thinnest of margins.”

  “Exactly.” Mona smiled meanly.

  “There are a lot of interpersonal and emotional reasons for his behavior, which I can’t share with you, but I’ve made some progress with him. I discovered that he loves to read, as long as it isn’t a class assignment, and that he has a talent for writing. With my encouragement he was motivated to enter the contest.”

  Mona said, “A prize like this should go to a serious student who has put forth effort all year. Not someone who rattles off a paper at the last minute.”

  “If you take this prize away from him after you’ve already told him he won, you will be reinforcing every negative thing he already believes about authority figures.” Skye looked from her aunt to the principal. “You will undo an entire year’s worth of therapy.”

  Mona shrugged and patted Skye on the knee. “Quite frankly, Skye, I don’t much believe that mumbo jumbo. Neal says it’s more like the work of the devil than of Jesus.”

  “How can he say that? Even the church offers counseling.” Skye squared her shoulders and clenched the arms of her chair.

  “Well, that’s completely different.” Mona crossed her arms and sat back.

  “I’ll take care of this from here, Mona,” Neva said. “Perhaps you’d give us a few minutes alone?”

  Mona picked up her purse and walked toward the door. “Then I’ll see you in the gym.”

  As soon as Mona left, Skye shot out of her chair and leaned on Neva’s desk. “Why do people who know the least know it the loudest? And why are you letting her get away with this?”

  Neva stood. “That was getting us nowhere. Skye, the decision has been made. Justin Boward is not getting the award.” When Skye tried to interrupt, Neva raised her hand, palm out. “There are too many people in Scumble River who feel as your aunt does, and the school district is planning a referendum in the near future. We can’t afford to offend such a vocal part of our voters.”

  “I won’t be the one to tell him.”

  “That’s fine with me. I have no problem telling Justin. But is your refusal to tell him in his best interest or because you’re in a snit?” Neva asked quietly.

  Skye’s reason fought with her emotions. “Okay, I’ll tell him, but nothing I can say is going to make up to him for this betrayal.”

  Before leaving the office, Skye asked that Justin be paged and told to report to Ms. Denison. They met at her doorway. She noted that instead of his usual T-shirt and baggy shorts, he wore a white shirt and tie, with black dress pants.

  His mood was different too. He stood tall and looked her in the eye, speaking without being prompted to do so. “What’s up, Ms. Denison? I can’t stay long today. The awards’ ceremony starts in a few minutes. Can you come and watch me get my trophy?”

  Skye closed her eyes briefly and wondered what she was going to say. They hadn’t covered a situation like this in graduate school.

  “Ah, Ms. Denison, are you okay?”

  How could she destroy this kid just because some committee felt he wasn’t “good enough”? He had come so far. When she had first started to see him they had gone whole forty-minute sessions exchanging fewer than ten words apiece. He never made eye contact and was failing all his classes.

  She knew now that whatever she said and however she said it, her words were going to destroy Justin’s emerging faith in adults. Skye wished she had more experience. She had no idea how to minimize this kind of damage.

  Finally, she took a deep breath and spoke. “You really like Star Trek, don’t you? You watch all the reruns, right?”

  He nodded, looking confused.

  “Do you always think that the captain does the right thing, makes the right decision?”

  Justin looked at her strangely. “No, not always, but usually.”

  “If you were a member of the Star Trek crew, would you go against the captain when he or she gave an order you thought was wrong?”

  After a long pause, he shook his head. “No, that would be mutiny. But I would enter a protest into my log.”

  “Well, I’m sort of in that position now. Mrs. Llewellyn has ordered me to tell you something I don’t agree with, and I don’t think she agrees with it either, but her boss has ordered her to do it.” Skye leaned forward and put her hand over his as it lay on the table. “Justin, I’m sorry to have to say that you won’t be getting the award for best essay after all.”

  Justin jerked his hand away and scrunched up his face. “Why? What happened?”

  “They decided to give the prize to the second-place winner. They thought, even though you’re a great writer, hers was better when all things were considered.” Skye didn’t want to tell him he was considered unworthy, but she was also trying not to lie.

  His shoulders slumped and he turned to leave. “It figures. The whole thing was bogus anyway. I knew I wasn’t good enough to win.”

  Skye got up and joined him at the door. “That’s not true, Justin. You are a great writer and I can’t explain this. But just remember, even the captains on Star Trek occasionally make mistakes. And this is one of those times.”

  “Can I go now?” He refused to look at her.

  “Are you okay?”

  He nodded, once.

  “I’m really sorry. Don’t let this ruin your summer.”

  Justin shrugged. He was back in nonverbal mode. All those months of therapy had been lost.

  “I’ll see you next year in high school.”

  Another shrug and he was gone.

  Skye sat down at her desk and reached for the phone. She needed to notify Justin’s parents, so they’d be prepared when he arrived home. When she got their answering machine it dawned on her that they were probably already at the school for the awards ceremony.

  Great. She’d have to find them before the program began. How could Neva and Mona do this to a family? Her hand clenched around the ceramic jar she had been fingering. It had the word MIRACLES printed across the front. She had purchased it when she finished college. Suddenly she snatched it off her desk and hurled it at the wall. As she watched the jar explode into tiny fragments she smiled grimly. There were no miracles in this job.

  CHAPTER 10

  Diddle, Diddle Dumpling, My Son Gus

  After finding the Bowards, explaining what had happened, and directing them to Neva to lodge their grievance, Skye left the school. It was only one o’clock, but there was no way she was sitting through that particular awards ceremony. It would feel too hypocritical. She would return that evening to help chaperon the graduation.

  She pulled into the police department’s parking lot. Only two vehicles occupied slots—Thea’s old Chevy and her brother’s Jeep. What was Vince doing there? Surely he wasn’t a suspect this time. It had been a nightmare last fall when he had been accused of murdering a Chicago TV star. Skye hurried across the asphalt and thrust the glass door open.
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br />   Thea, the dispatcher, greeted her. “Skye, honey, don’t you look cute as a bunny in that pink outfit.”

  “Thanks, Thea. Is my brother here?”

  “Yep, he and the chief are talking.” Thea reached for the phone, but let it slide back into the cradle. “They been talking long enough. You go up there and see what’s going on.”

  “Thanks.” Skye flashed the dispatcher a smile and ran up the steps. Thea had been one of Vince’s staunchest supporters when the police had tried to pin last September’s murder on him.

  She could hear the two men’s voices as she rushed down the hall. Their tones sounded calm. As she pushed open the half-closed door, both men turned toward her.

  Wally spoke first. “Skye, I didn’t expect to see you here today.”

  “There were a couple things about Grandma’s death I wanted to talk over with you. Simon told me about the poison.”

  “Good. Vince and I are about done. You might as well pull up a chair.”

  “Thanks.”

  The chief picked up a piece of paper and gestured toward Vince. “So, this is a list of customers you had the day your grandmother died?”

  Vince nodded. “Yes. I started at seven that morning and didn’t leave the shop until Simon called me around five.”

  “Is there anyone who can vouch for you before seven?” Wally asked.

  “Yes, ah, I was with someone from about eight o’clock the night before.” Vince glanced at Skye and his ears turned red. He scribbled something on a slip of paper and slid it over to the chief. “That’s her name. I’d appreciate it if you kept this quiet.”

  “I’ll check it out personally. No one else will have to know.”

  Skye stared at Vince. Who had he spent the night with? He was supposed to be going out with Abby Fleming, the school nurse.

  The chief stood and walked around his desk. “Sounds like you’re in good shape.”

  The men shook hands.

  Vince turned to Skye before leaving. “Stop by the shop tomorrow if you get a chance, will you?”

  “Sure.” And you can tell me who your new girlfriend is. “I’ll be over sometime in the afternoon.” Skye closed her eyes and smiled. “Tomorrow is the first day of summer vacation. I’m sleeping until noon.”

  “At Mom and Dad’s?” Vince smirked. “Dream on.”

  After Vince’s departure, Wally took the chair next to Skye. She wished he’d go back behind his desk. Distance was a good thing where she and the chief were concerned.

  “So, what’s up?” Wally smiled warmly.

  “Well, one thing I wanted to mention to you was that those survivalists out by the farm had been annoying my grandmother for months, and I was wondering if you’d checked them out.”

  “I talked to some of them. They probably did trespass and hunt out of season, but I can’t really see a motive for them killing her.”

  “Maybe she saw something she shouldn’t have. She liked to sit with binoculars and watch the birds.”

  “If she was shot, maybe, but I can’t see them baking poison brownies. Or her eating them if they were a gift from those people.”

  Skye was unconvinced, but she didn’t have anything solid to offer the chief. She’d have to check them out herself. “I see from Vince you’re examining alibis. How is everyone checking out?”

  “This is strictly between you and me.” Wally turned and grabbed a file. “I don’t think the police commissioners would be happy to find out I was discussing this case with a civilian, but I’m sorry for not taking more seriously what you said the day you found your grandmother.”

  She pushed her hair back over her shoulder. “Thanks. I promise to be discreet. All I want is to help you figure out what happened. Being a member of the family, I have access to facts you don’t, but unless I know what you already have I may not realize what info is important and what isn’t.”

  Wally nodded. “That’s my thinking too. And I’m convinced it wasn’t you or Vince. And your parents were together until about four that day. They had gone out to breakfast at seven, then to Kankakee to Farm and Fleet and a few other stores. Both the waitress and clerks remember them. So, I’m comfortable with this arrangement.” He sat back and crossed his legs. All the good old boy humor left his face. “Just don’t let me down. I’ve never been able to forgive a betrayal.”

  This was one of the things that made Wally so attractive to her. He was straightforward and could admit when he was wrong. She leaned toward him, their knees almost touching. “I’d never do anything to damage your trust in me.”

  He smiled and brushed her cheek with a knuckle. “I’m counting on that.” He turned and picked up a different folder. “Even though the pan of brownies could have been dropped off anytime, we figure Mrs. J was put into the well sometime between noon and three.”

  “Mrs. J wasn’t real big, but I don’t think I could get her down the stairs and all the way to the well.” Skye tapped her chin with her finger.

  “It’d be easy to shove her down the stairs and then it’s flat ground from then on,” Wally said. “We found a child’s wagon in the garage that matches the tire tracks in the grass. Whoever did it used the wagon to haul Mrs. J from the house to the well and once they were there they just tipped her in.”

  “Any fingerprints?”

  “Nope, everything was wiped clean.” Wally threw the manila file on his desk.

  “Do you suppose it was the murderer I heard in the garage that day?”

  “Seems a good possibility.”

  Skye shivered. It really had been stupid to go out to that garage. “You didn’t say anything about alibis for my aunts, uncles, and cousins.”

  Wally shrugged. “It’s hard to pin the rest of them down. Ginger and Gillian were at work most of the day, but both left to do errands on their lunch hour. Minnie was supposedly in Urbana, but she had no appointments during that time period so she could have driven back and forth.”

  Skye scratched her head. “And let me guess. Dante, Emmett, and Neal were in their fields, alone.”

  “Right. Mona was alone too, at her house. Then she went to Joliet to the dentist and shopping. But her appointment wasn’t until three. Olive was alone until Dante came home about four and they went to the auction around five. And Hugo was at work at the car lot, but it was a slow day and there were long stretches of time when he was without a customer.”

  “So any one of them could have done it.”

  “Afraid so.”

  Skye looked around the Scumble River High School gym. The bleachers were extended to their fullest length and folding chairs filled the floor. All the lights were blazing from protective cages in the ceiling. The scents of flowers and perfume competed with the long-entrenched effluvium of sweat and the unique hormonal odor of teenagers.

  A scattering of people had already claimed seats in the front rows. They chatted with each other, read the program, and otherwise amused themselves while waiting for the ceremony to begin. Three or four small children raced up and down the aisles, looking sweaty and uncomfortable in their dress clothes.

  Leaning against the entrance, Skye remembered her own graduation thirteen years ago. She had stood on that very stage as the valedictorian of her class. Back then she thought she knew everything. She was sure Scumble River had nothing to offer her, and life would be perfect if she could just get away from her hometown. She had yearned for bright lights and sophistication without understanding the cost involved in acquiring those wishes.

  She had thought everyone else was dumb, but she had been the stupid one. The chance to make a speech to the whole town had gone to her head like cheap wine. And as with too much cheap wine, when she finally woke up, years later, she had a terrible hangover and faced the consequences of her actions.

  Skye stared at the podium and saw herself giving the infamous valedictory speech in which she had told the whole town how little she thought of it and its residents. Now she had been back for ten months and people had stopped reminding
her of that shameful oration, but she was sure someone would mention it again tonight.

  Suddenly the PA cut into her thoughts. “Ms. Denison, please report to the band room.”

  Hurrying down the corridor, Skye wondered what was up. They were using the band room as a staging area for the senior girls. Long before she walked through the door, she heard high-pitched shrieks and screams.

  From the hall she could just make out two figures rolling on the floor. Both wore pastel nylon frocks that looked more like slips than dresses. As Skye skidded into the room, a crimson-tipped hand snaked out of the melee, grabbed its opponent’s fragile shoulder strap, and tore downward.

  Homer Knapik, the principal, stood on one side of the writhing mass and his secretary, Opal Hill, on the other. Neither seemed to have a clue about how to stop the fight.

  Skye scanned the area, looking for a way to separate the girls without resorting to physical force. She dropped her purse and grabbed a pair of cymbals lying next to a music stand. Wading through the onlookers, she got as close to the combatants as possible and banged the brass discs together with all the strength she could muster.

  The brawlers stopped to cover their ears. Skye ignored the pain in her own ears, replaced the cymbals, grabbed the nearest girl by the upper arms, and dragged her out the door.

  Homer nabbed the other warrior. He shouted instructions to Opal as he hurried down the hall after Skye. “Keep everyone else here.”

  After shoving her captive into the health room, with an order to stay put, Skye closed the door and leaned against the wall. She was just in time to see Homer put the other prisoner into his office.

  Homer and Skye met at the counter. “What was that all about?” Skye asked.

  “The girl in the pink is Gus Yoder’s girlfriend. She was shooting her mouth off about how unfair it was that he wasn’t graduating tonight with his class. The one in the yellow is the girl he attacked in the rest room.” Homer took out a handkerchief and wiped his face.

  “Did Miss Pink go after the other one or was it mutual?” Skye tried to get her breathing back to normal.