Die Me a River

by Denise Swanson

  “Lucky you.” Skye scowled. “Tenure isn’t a possibility for me.”

  “Like you have to worry,” Trixie said. “The grade school and junior high principals love you, your godfather is head of the school board, and there aren’t a ton of candidates eager for your job.”

  “That’s been true so far.” Skye pursed her lips. “But Piper might decide she likes it here.”

  “I doubt your intern is going to try to oust you.” Trixie giggled. “Not after her recent set-to with Homer. Besides…” Trixie hesitated, then said, “Are you even sure you want to come back?”

  “Of course I’m coming back to work,” Skye said without thinking.

  Then an image of the twins flashed through her mind. It wasn’t as if she and Wally needed her salary. She could be a stay-at-home mom. She did have a lot on her plate between her two babies and building a new house. Maybe she should consider at least taking an extended unpaid leave.

  “What are you thinking?” Trixie demanded. “You have a funny look on your face.”

  “Nothing.” Skye shook her head emphatically. “Just wondering if I had time to stop at the pharmacy before I pick up the twins.”

  “You know,” Trixie continued as if reading Skye’s mind, “if Piper was interested in staying on here, maybe you could work part-time.”

  “The district barely thinks they need one psychologist. What gives you the idea that they’d go for one and a half?” Skye scoffed.

  “How do you know? They might.” Trixie wagged her finger in front of Skye’s face. “Until you ask for what you want, you have no idea what you can get.”

  “Piper would have to choose to stay here. The board would have to be willing to spend money on students’ needs that don’t involve sports or busing. And…” Skye squirmed on her stool, unwilling to admit that she was intrigued with the idea. “And there are too many ifs in that equation to even consider at this point.”

  “Fine.” Trixie’s smile was smug. “So what was the reaction to the Star’s front-page story about Wally’s dad and his gazillions of dollars?”

  In the years he had lived and worked in Scumble River, Wally had concealed the fact that his father, Carson Boyd, was a Texas oil billionaire. Due to Carson’s generosity in helping the community recover from the tornado, and also since it was just getting harder and harder to hide his family’s wealth thanks to the internet, Wally had decided to reveal his background.

  Skye had suggested the best way to tell the town was via an interview by the owner and editor of the local newspaper, Kathryn Steele. Kathryn had been thrilled and done a wonderful job on the piece. Before the article had been published, Skye and Wally told her close family members and their friends, so none of them would be blindsided. Some had taken the news better than others.

  “Most folks were cool about it, at least to our faces.” Skye shrugged. “Unfortunately, there were more than a few who immediately asked for ‘donations’ and loans. One guy wanted Wally to finance his new prosthesis, but a little investigation showed that he had two good legs. And then there are the women who proposition him.”

  “Yikes!” Trixie yelped. “He was already too much of a hunk for his own good.”

  “Yep.” Skye rubbed her temples. “Of course, my uncle Dante wanted a handout.”

  “Seriously?” Trixie screeched. “After the dirty tricks he’s pulled with the police department and then almost getting Wally killed?”

  “Dante’s got the long-term memory of a squirrel.” Skye snickered. “He is forever forgetting which of the acorns he buried were rotten.”

  When Trixie finished laughing, she said, “Well, you had to let that cat out of the bag. Carson has practically bought out Babies‘R’Us.”

  “True. We actually had to put up a temporary shed to store it all.” Skye made a face. “I’m grateful for the luxury RV Carson got us to live in after the tornado blew down our house, but it is way too small for us and two babies and all their paraphernalia.”

  “So I saw last time I visited. I could barely get inside the door,” Trixie said.

  “On the bright side, now that we’re not hiding his net worth anymore, I don’t have to worry so much about what people will think of the house we’re building.” She smiled. “I was afraid they’d come to the conclusion that Wally was a corrupt cop.”

  “How’s the house going?” Trixie asked. “Have they finished framing yet?”

  “Finally.” Skye blew a curl out of her eyes. “Now if Wally and I can just decide on the million details that come up every single day.”

  “Owen and I would never come to an agreement,” Trixie said. “Thank goodness our house only lost its roof and had some siding damage.” She sighed. “But Owen’s truck was totaled and the barn is completely gone. A lot of trees had to be removed as well.”

  Skye recalled that she’d seen Owen driving Trixie’s car and asked, “Are you getting a new truck for him?”

  “Well…” Trixie’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “That would be a good trade…”

  “You are so not funny.” Skye whacked her friend’s arm, then glanced at the papers scattered across the counter. She’d noticed them when she first arrived, but hadn’t seen what they were. Now she frowned and asked, “Are these insurance forms?”

  “Yeppers.” Trixie tried to sound cheerful, but Skye wasn’t fooled.

  “I thought you turned those in right after the tornado.”

  “We did.” Trixie studied the buttons on her denim shirt.

  “So why are you doing them again?” Skye asked, reaching for one of the pages.

  “The insurance company keeps returning them marked as incomplete.” Trixie growled. “In fact, the special investigator that they brought in to handle all of their rejected claims just dropped off this new set before you got here.”

  “That doesn’t seem right. Our insurance rep practically did the paperwork for us.” Skye pursed her lips again. “Who are you with?”

  “Homestead.” Trixie blew out a long breath. “A lot of folks in Scumble River who are insured by them are talking about suing the company. It’s starting to look like we might have to do that, too. But an attorney is so expensive, and I hate the idea of getting into a long, drawn-out legal battle. Lawyers are the only ones who come out ahead on those.”

  “Maybe you could join together for a class action suit,” Skye suggested, making a mental note to talk to her sister-in-law about that possibility. “Suing has got to be cheaper as a group.”

  “What we really need is for the person who keeps denying all of the Scumble River tornado claims to disappear. And someone with a heart to take her place.” Trixie bared her teeth. “She is determined to prevent every one of us from collecting any money.”

  Chapter 3

  Don’t Say Nothin’ (Bad about My Baby)

  Chief of police Wally Boyd barely stopped himself from cringing as Scumble River’s mayor Dante Leofanti thumped him on the shoulder and said, “Your department has been doing an excellent job. Keep it up.”

  Watching Hizzoner’s penguin-like bulk waddle away, Wally wasn’t sure which was worse, the mayor’s previous antagonistic behavior and open contempt for the police department or his new buddy-buddy attitude.

  Still reeling from Dante’s jovial pat on the back, Wally only half listened as Zelda Martinez gave him the highlights of her shift. She was the PD’s youngest and only female officer, and by far the most enthusiastic.

  Wally zoned back in as Martinez reached the end of her report and said, “I’m concerned about the new fairy godmother in town. Forget swindlers claiming to fix folk’s roofs when they only slap on a few shingles. She’s taken exploiting people’s gullibility to a whole new level.”

  “Son of a bit…biscuit!” Now that he was a father, Wally had vowed to stop swearing, but it wasn’t easy to change a lifetime of behavior at his age. Especi
ally when one of his staff obviously thought that Scumble River had somehow transformed into Once Upon a Time Land.

  “Sir?” Martinez quirked a dark eyebrow, plainly confused by Wally’s choice of expletive.

  Once the town had settled down and began rebuilding after the tornadoes that had leveled a good part of the community last summer, Wally had known the scammers would move in. However, he had severely underestimated the sheer number of con artists and their jaw-dropping deviousness.

  The police department was receiving ten or more calls a day from citizens complaining that they’d been defrauded by fake repairmen, phony debris removal companies, and double-dealing insurance appraisers.

  Nonetheless, this fairy-tale thing was a new twist from the grifters, one the Scumble River PD was ill equipped to handle.

  With only seven full-time officers, including Wally, it was difficult to catch the con artists in the act. And someone pretending to work magic would be even slipperier than the other kinds.

  Wally had hoped that the promotion of Anthony Anserello from part-time to full-time officer would ease the burden on the rest of his team. But except for the day shift, when there was someone patrolling the streets while Wally worked in the office, there was still usually only one cop on duty at a time.

  There were no two ways about it. They needed additional staff. Too bad that wouldn’t happen anytime soon. It had taken a certain amount of blackmail to squeeze Anthony’s increased hours out of the city council, and even now with the revelation of Carson’s wealth, which had resulted in Dante becoming Wally’s new best friend, the PD budget was frozen solid.

  Realizing Martinez was still waiting for him to respond to her report, Wally refocused and said carefully, “So you’re telling me there’s a woman in town who is claiming to be a fairy godmother?”

  “Yes.” Martinez’s voice was brisk. Glancing down at the open notebook in her hand, she stated, “Ms. Millicent Rose purchased the former Young at Heart Photography building six weeks ago. Today, she had it painted pink and hung a sign reading ‘Enchanted Cottage.’”

  “Okay.” Wally inhaled deeply, catching the combined odors of stale coffee and disinfectant. “Has she done anything illegal?”

  “Before I went out on patrol, I checked the city hall records.” The young officer smoothed her dark-brown hair. She wore it in a tight bun at the nape of her neck and Wally had never seen a strand out of place. “Ms. Rose doesn’t have a business license.”

  Martinez’s face was bare of makeup and her tone clipped and professional. Wally noted that the only bit of femininity she allowed herself was her professionally manicured, bright-red fingernails. He should ask Skye if that meant anything. As a psychologist, his wife was great at helping him interpret the subtle clues that most people missed.

  “What’s she peddling?” Wally tapped his desktop. “Does she offer to tell your fortune? Read your palm? Perform a séance to talk to your dearly departed?”

  “None of that.” Martinez narrowed her dark eyes. “In fact, she maintains she isn’t selling anything. And that’s why she doesn’t need a permit.”

  “So you spoke to her?” Wally quirked a brow at his employee.

  “Yes. I stopped by to make sure she was aware of the police presence in town. Would you believe she wears this ridiculous blue cape with a pointy hood that she fastens with a big, pink bow?”

  “After twenty-plus years in law enforcement, I believe just about anything.” Wally rolled his eyes.

  “Right.” Martinez straightened her spine and her voice sharpened to a razor’s edge. “I also mentioned the PD’s deep-seated interest in protecting the citizens of our small community.”

  “I see.” Wally frowned. Martinez was eager to prove herself. He normally approved of her zeal but needed to keep an eye on her fervor. “So, what is it she’s doing that has you wound up?”

  “This Rose woman claims she can grant wishes,” Martinez snorted.

  “Does she charge for these wishes?” Wally kept his tone even, but blew out an exasperated breath. He hated perps who took advantage of other people’s naïveté.

  “She claims that she doesn’t.” Zelda’s eyes were now so narrow Wally wondered how she could see out of them. “But you know she must. She probably just convinces her marks that they are giving her a donation or an offering.”

  “I assume that it’s too soon for anyone to have filled out a complaint yet,” Wally said, wondering if this was just a case of the rookie’s eagerness to prove herself, or if she had a personal stake in the matter.

  “Yep.” Martinez fingered the crease in her immaculately pressed uniform pants. “But even though she just hung out her sign, she’s been in business for a while and I’m hearing rumbling that odd things are happening.”

  “Like what?” The hair on the back of Wally’s neck rose.

  He quickly pulled a legal pad from his drawer and picked up a pen. Skye had bought him an iPad for his birthday, but he thought better when he wrote things down on paper.

  “Someone saw Tomi Jackson go into what is now the Enchanted Cottage, and the next day, it was all over town that she’d sold the Feed Bag property.”

  Tomi’s restaurant had been completely destroyed in the tornado and she’d decided to retire rather than to rebuild. Although the lot where the Feed Bag had stood was in a prime commercial spot, she’d been having trouble finding a buyer, mostly because she only wanted to sell to someone who promised to open a new restaurant in the location. Since eateries were a notoriously high-risk business, no one wanted to invest in such a dicey enterprise.

  “Anything else?” Wally’s instincts relaxed, and he fought to keep the amusement out of his voice. Rookie officers often saw coincidences as evidence of something more.

  “Belle Whitney, the school district speech therapist, was seen having coffee with Ms. Rose at Tales and Treats. Ever since Belle caught her husband cheating on her with their landscaper, she’s been vowing revenge.” Martinez adjusted her badge on her uniform shirt. “Last night, Mr. Whitney was pulled over by a Stanley County sheriff’s deputy and found to be driving under the influence with a carload of counterfeit designer handbags.”

  “All that is interesting,” Wally said, slowly processing the information. “But certainly nothing to do with our police department.”

  He was quiet for several seconds, listening to the ticking of the clock on his office wall. It was nearly five. He’d been off duty for an hour. It was time to wrap things up and get home. He and Skye had an appointment with Father Burns to talk about the babies’ baptisms at seven and he’d already rescheduled it twice.

  “That may be true.” Martinez broke the silence, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. “However, the incident that worries me most is what happened to my friend, Farrah Miles.”

  “Oh?” Wally kept his response short, hoping to hurry Martinez along.

  “Farrah had a baby about three months before the tornado. She isn’t married to the father, and Grady pretty much walked away when she told him she was pregnant. However, the jerk’s mother, Sorcha Nelson, decided she wanted to adopt her grandson and she’s been making Farrah’s life miserable trying to gain custody of the infant.”

  “And?” Wally frowned, not at all happy about where this story seemed to be going.

  “After a visit to Ms. Rose by Sorcha, Farrah’s baby stopped eating and became lethargic. His four-month exam was scheduled for the end of the week, and when the pediatrician couldn’t find anything wrong with him, he called the Department of Children and Family Services.” Martinez paused. “The doc decided that Farrah was neglecting her son.”

  “What happened?” Wally’s gut tightened.

  “Once the baby was in foster care, he started eating and recovered.” Martinez shook her head. “Sorcha immediately filed for custody.”

  A flicker of fear swept through Wally’s che
st at the thought that this so-called fairy godmother might have harmed a baby, but he pushed it away and said, “Any chance your friend really wasn’t taking adequate care of her son?”

  “Well, Farrah is a bit overwhelmed,” Martinez admitted. “But he was fine until Grandma Dearest paid a visit to Ms. Rose.”

  “Unfortunately, unless you can prove either Ms. Rose or the grandmother did something to make the baby ill, it isn’t a police matter.” Wally paused, then added, “But keep an eye on the Enchanted Cottage.”

  “I plan to.” Martinez gave him a sly look. “I just wanted your approval.”

  “Fine.” Admiration at the young woman’s methods forced Wally’s lips to twitch.

  “Anything else you want me to do before I leave?”

  “Nope.” Wally shook his head. “Have a good night. See you tomorrow.”

  “Thanks, Chief.” Martinez rose and walked toward the door. “You too.”

  Once the young officer was gone, Wally buzzed dispatch to say that he was leaving, pushed back from his desk, and stood. It was past time to go home. If there was one thing getting married and becoming a father had taught him, it was not to confuse his career with his life.

  After checking that he had his portable radio, he turned off the lights and stepped into the hallway, locking the door behind him. As he ran down the stairs, he decided to stop and pick up some flowers for his wife. He’d been putting in a lot of hours, and even though she was caring for two babies, mostly on her own, while living in the relatively small space of a motor home, Skye never complained.

  Although she was employed by the police department as a part-time psychological consultant and understood the demands of the job, she still deserved a treat. And Skye adored white roses.

  Heading toward the police station’s attached garage, Wally remembered that he needed to talk to his mother-in-law, May Denison, who was the afternoon dispatcher. And he didn’t want to telephone her from home later and have Skye overhear their conversation. Abruptly, he turned on his heel and hurried to the front of the building.