Die Me a River

by Denise Swanson

  “It’s hard to say.” Wally scraped his hand over the stubble on his jaw.

  “Oh?” Skye smiled at the bristly sound. His five o’clock shadow generally started around noon and by this time of night, he had a sexy scruff.

  “On one side, there’s the fact that Paige made a habit of being in the gambling lounge during off hours, and she’s made a lot of enemies in town.” He glanced at Skye.

  She nodded her understanding and added, “There’s also her personal life, which no one around her probably has a clue about.” Skye took a comb from her purse and ran it through her wet curls, then used the hair tie from her french braid to put it in a ponytail. “Do you have any background info on her?”

  “Martinez emailed me a summary of what she’s found so far.” Wally turned onto the street leading to the station. “Paige was thirty-eight. Her parents are both dead, and according to the executive vice president at Homestead Insurance, she’s recently divorced. She’s worked for the company for sixteen years.”

  “What’s her exact job title?” Skye asked, finishing with her ponytail.

  “She’s the head of their special investigations department.” Wally parked the squad car in the police lot.

  “I’m surprised she didn’t send one of her employees to Scumble River.” Skye opened her door and followed Wally to his Hummer.

  “I believe there was someone else handling things here for a while. Let me think.” Wally helped Skye into the huge SUV, then walked around and slid behind the steering wheel. “Oh, yeah. Everybody liked that guy and he was settling claims left and right.”

  “Meaning that Homestead was bleeding money and probably putting pressure on Paige to stop the hemorrhage.” Skye fastened her seat belt.

  “Exactly.” Wally curled his lip, indicating his thoughts on the matter. “Then suddenly, Paige took over and the flow of cash has all but stopped. I don’t believe I’ve heard of anyone getting a full payment since she arrived in town.”

  “Plenty of motive to kill her.” Skye aimed the Hummer’s heating vent at her chest, trying to dry her wet shirt. “How about the ex-husband?”

  “Interestingly enough, he works for Homestead Insurance as well.” Wally drove the huge SUV out of the lot and pointed it toward home. “He’s the head of the auto claims department.”

  “I wonder if they met at work.” Skye plucked at the damp fabric of her capris. “Of course the real question is, how friendly was the divorce?”

  “If we pursue Paige as the intended victim, I’ll have to send someone up to Normalton to nose around and find out more about her personal life, but for now, I think it’s more likely the bowling alley and/or Bunny were the bomber’s actual target.”

  “Hmm.” Skye didn’t agree, but she wasn’t sure why she felt that way.

  As if reading her mind, Wally argued, “Whoever planted the explosive device couldn’t be sure that Paige would even be there, let alone that it would kill her. Bombs are only fatal in certain circumstances.”

  “So you said before.” Skye sighed. She didn’t have logic to back up her case, so it was useless to try to convince Wally of it.

  “But you don’t agree,” Wally said. “Tell me why you think I’m wrong.”

  “I can’t explain.” Unwilling to end the evening on a sour note, Skye waved off her concern. “It’s okay.” Smiling, she said, “Did I mention my mother’s latest battle with her sister?” When Wally shook his head, Skye continued, “Mom and Aunt Minnie are feuding over the flowers on Grandma and Grandpa Leofanti’s grave.”

  “Seriously?”

  “You have to ask?” Skye grinned. “You know both Mom and her sister are as stubborn as a robin trying to pull a worm out of the ground.”

  “True.” Wally snickered. “So what’s their beef about the flowers?”

  “Because the weather has been so unseasonably warm, the geraniums and impatiens are still going strong, so Aunt Minnie wants to leave them alone.” Skye chuckled. “Mom insists that it’s autumn so they need to be replaced with chrysanthemums.”

  “Which does Dante want?” Wally asked. “After all, they’re his parents, too. Doesn’t he get a vote in the great flower debate?”

  “Uncle Dante couldn’t care less.” Skye made a face. “As long as he’s not required to kick in his share to pay for them or do any of the work maintaining them at the graves, he has no opinion.”

  “Then who’s going to win the argument?” Wally turned into their driveway and parked the Hummer near the motor home’s front steps.

  “Again, you have to ask?” Skye rolled her eyes. “When Mom stopped by this afternoon, she was on her way to the nursery to buy the fall flowers. She planned to plant them this afternoon and present Minnie with a done deal.”

  “Then our asking her to babysit might have prevented World War III?”

  “Postponed, maybe.” Skye unfastened her seat belt. “Prevented, I doubt it.”

  Wally got out of the SUV, walked around, and helped Skye out, then said, “Let’s go see what kind of progress they’re making on the new house.”

  “Sure.” Wally leaned past Skye and into the open passenger door. “Best be prepared.” He grabbed a flashlight from the Hummer’s glove box.

  He put his arm around Skye and they crossed the yard toward the new structure. While they’d been gone, the builder had finished wrapping the house in a protective barrier that he’d explained was installed to prevent any mold or rotting, as well as to help save on heating and cooling costs. Wally seemed impressed by the man’s sales pitch, but all Skye knew was that it had added to the already skyrocketing costs of the house.

  With the windows and doors installed, it seemed increasingly like a real home, and every time Skye crossed the threshold, she was a little more excited. While they strolled through the house, she tried to imagine what the interior would look like once drywall covered the bare bones of the lumber.

  They had opted for an open floor plan with the master suite on one side and the other bedrooms in the opposite wing. The kitchen, great room, and dining room occupied the center of the house, and there was a huge bonus room over the three-car garage where Wally could put his workout equipment. And when they got older, the twins could use some of the space as a playroom.

  Once Wally and Skye had gone through the entire structure, they headed back to the motor home. As they walked across the lawn, Skye said, “I hope Mrs. Griggs isn’t upset that we didn’t rebuild her house.”

  Skye had inherited the original property from Alma Griggs, and her benefactor’s spirit had haunted her from the time she’d moved into the house until her wedding night. Once Skye and Wally returned from their honeymoon, the old woman’s ghost hadn’t made as many appearances. She had still left little gifts, like the occasional vintage baby toy, but nothing destructive.

  Since the tornado, Mrs. Griggs had been completely absent. Skye hoped that when her house was destroyed she’d gone toward the white light, but she wasn’t counting on it. And a ticked-off ghost was the last thing Skye wanted hanging around their new home.

  Wally shrugged. He had never quite believed that a spirit was haunting Skye, but he’d learned to keep his mouth shut about his doubts if he didn’t want something to blow up or catch on fire.

  A few seconds later, a small cardboard box blew across the yard, stopping at their feet. “I’d better grab that and put it into the recycle bin,” Wally said. “Garbage pickup is tomorrow.”

  When Wally lifted the carton, the label was facing Skye. It read Naughty Angel and had a logo of an attractive woman in a 1940s dress holding a martini glass and winking.

  The image looked strangely like the wedding pictures that Skye had seen of Alma Griggs.

  Chapter 12

  Baby’s Coming Back

  Wally had left for work twenty minutes ago and Skye was just putting the twins down for their morning nap
when her cell phone began to vibrate in her yoga pants pocket. She checked the display, then, not wanting to wake the babies, she walked to the other end of the RV before answering.

  “Hey!” Trixie’s perky voice hurt Skye’s ears. “Can I stop by after work?”

  “Absolutely. I’ll be here for sure because the party company is coming sometime between two and five to set up the tent for Saturday. When we combined the baptism party with the shower, Mom decided that her garage wasn’t big enough,” Skye said, wondering what was behind her friend’s sudden desire to come visit. They’d just seen each other on Monday. “What’s up?”

  “Gotta go.” Trixie sounded breathless. “See you at threeish.”

  “But—” The dial tone buzzed in Skye’s ear and she disconnected.

  Tucking the phone back in her pocket, she thought about the decision she and Wally had made last night. With her maternity leave evaporating at an alarming rate, and despite Wally’s worries about a stranger caring for his children, last night, they had decided to begin the process of finding a nanny. The clincher had been when Skye pointed out that it was better to try out someone for a few hours a day while she could still pop back in to check up on the woman than wait until she went back to work and couldn’t return for eight hours.

  Immediately, Wally had texted his father. Carson had assured them that he had a list of absolutely reliable women who lived within a half hour of Scumble River and wouldn’t need accommodations. A few seconds later, fifteen résumés popped up in Skye’s email, all with a video of the applicant.

  Skye and Wally had studied the candidates and arranged for Skye to meet with six of the best possibilities between nine and three today. All the women seemed eager and willing to drop everything to be considered for the job. The power of Carson’s wallet never ceased to amaze Skye.

  Glancing at her watch, Skye realized the first nanny would be arriving in less than an hour. After a quick check to make sure the twins were sleeping soundly, Skye hopped into the shower. Once she was clean and dressed in a pair of tan slacks and a black-and-cream trapeze tunic, she hastily applied bronzer, concealer, and a coat of mascara and began to clean up the RV.

  The bedroom and kitchen stayed pretty tidy, but the galley-like living room was a different story. It was designed to hold a good-sized couch and two chairs, but the narrow path between the furniture was never intended to accommodate all the gifts that Carson and May showered on the twins. The mobiles, cloth books, and play gyms made navigating the small space tricky. And she didn’t want any of the nannies she was interviewing this morning to trip.

  The RV was silent as she worked with only the faint humming coming from the baby monitor. After she finished, Skye plopped on the sofa to catch her breath. Instantly, Bingo darted from wherever he’d been hiding, jumped up next to her, and tried to climb onto her lap.

  “No.” Skye moved the cat to the floor. She didn’t want to greet the nannies covered in cat hair.

  Bingo stared at her as if asking, “What is this word ‘no’ that you speak of?” Then he headed for the patch of sunlight that spilled from the RV’s windows and turned his back on her.

  A few seconds later, the first nanny candidate knocked on the door. Skye asked all six interviewees a set of questions that she and Wally had come up with the night before. She also made sure each woman had some time to interact with the twins. And while the nannies fed, changed, or played with the babies, Skye observed.

  By the end of the last appointment, Skye had narrowed her choices to the top two. One had gotten down on the floor and joined the babies as they batted objects hanging from the overhead gym. The other had easily managed to feed one twin as she diapered the second. They both had petted Bingo and asked if he was allowed to have treats.

  While Skye waited for Trixie, she texted the four women who hadn’t made the cut, thanking them for their time, but telling them they would not be called for a second interview. The remaining two, she asked to see again the next evening when Wally would be available to meet with them.

  Skye had just changed back to her comfortable knit pants and T-shirt when she spotted a large spider crawling across the bathroom floor. The ringing of the doorbell and Skye’s shriek occurred simultaneously.

  Hearing a loud thud, Skye ran into the living room just in time to see Trixie barreling over the threshold. Evidently, she’d forgotten to lock the door.

  After Skye explained her scream, Trixie said, “I completely understand. Seeing a spider is always a problem.”

  Skye shook her head. “Seeing it isn’t the issue. Not being able to find it and kill it is.”

  Once they finished giggling and Trixie had oohed and aahed over the babies, the two women settled themselves on either end of the sofa, each holding a twin.

  Trixie stared at Skye and said, “We had a faculty meeting before I called you this morning.”

  “Did something interesting come up?” Skye asked, her pulse racing. What in the world had Homer done to provoke the staff this time?

  “Not during the meeting.” Trixie shook her head. “But afterward…”

  “Afterward what?” Skye shook a rattle in front of her daughter.

  “Several of the teachers have had claims denied by Homestead Insurance.” Trixie switched the twin she was holding to her other arm.

  “I still think you all need to look into a class action suit,” Skye said cautiously. She wasn’t sure if Wally had released the information regarding Paige Myler’s death yet and Skye didn’t want to disclose anything that was still confidential.

  “It looks as if we might not have to worry about that anymore.” Trixie raised a sandy eyebrow. “I mean with Paige Myler dead and all.”

  Well, that answered that question. Either Wally had announced the bombing victim’s identity or someone else had spilled the beans.

  “Who told you that?” Skye asked, settling her daughter in her bouncy seat and taking her son from Trixie. “Was there an announcement?”

  “Alana Lowe found out from a pal in the ME’s office and told the rest of us.” Trixie’s innocent expression didn’t fool Skye. Her friend had probably been looking for details for her next book and prodded Alana into asking her friend for the information. “But it’s almost certainly in today’s Star. Alana and Kathryn are good friends.”

  “I sure hope that the next of kin has been notified. You know, there’s a reason that the police withhold the names of victims.”

  “Well, yeah.” Trixie’s cheeks turned red. “I guess finding out your wife or daughter was dead via newspaper would really suck.”

  “You think?” Skye was well aware there were no secrets in a small town, but since her jobs as a school psych and the PD psych consultant both required confidentiality, she often resented that fact.

  “We were just excited at the possibility of finally getting our claims settled.” Trixie must have noticed Skye’s offended expression and added, “Not that we wanted Paige to die, especially like that.”

  “Her replacement might be just as bad or even worse.” Skye placed her son in a bouncy chair. “Like they say, the devil you know.”

  “Don’t even think that.” Trixie’s shoulders drooped. Then she brightened. “The guy before Paige was a sweetheart. Maybe he’ll be assigned here again.”

  “Maybe.” Skye shrugged, then leaned back and casually asked, “Which of the teachers were having a hard time with Paige?”

  Trixie reeled off half a dozen names, then said, “But Homer was the one who was nearly dancing with joy when Alana told us all that it was Paige who died in the explosion.”

  “Really?” Skye recalled that on Monday, when she’d been leaving his office, the high school principal had been screaming about the insurance investigator being late for their meeting. “I’ll have to let Wally know about Homer’s reaction to the news.”

  “Any chance Wally will drag h
im down to the police station for questioning?” Trixie’s brown eyes lit up with mischief. “Can I watch?”

  “It’s a possibility.” Skye wanted to see the principal being grilled at the PD herself. “But I think right now, Wally is pursuing a different motivation for the bombing, so Homer’s interrogation will have to wait.”

  “Shoot!” Trixie made a sad face. “You always rain on my parade.”

  “But I always make sure you have an umbrella, too,” Skye reminded her.

  Trixie pointed her finger at Skye. “Touché.” She started digging in her purse.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “Well, I’m really searching for the meaning of life, but I’d settle for my car keys.”

  Skye laughed and said, “Try the front pocket.”

  “Thanks.” Trixie held the ring triumphantly in front of her. “Anyway, I should probably get going.” She stood and moved toward the door. “Is there anything you need help with for Saturday’s big doings?”

  “I have no idea.” Skye followed her friend. “Give Mom a call. She is officially in charge of the new combo shower and baptismal party.”

  “Will do.” Trixie gave Skye a hug and started down the steps. “See you at the church.”

  “Terrific.” Skye hesitated. There was something niggling at her brain and she yelled, “Wait a second.” She hurried to where Trixie stood by her car. “There’s something I wanted to ask you.”

  “What?”

  “I can’t think of it.” Skye closed her eyes, willing the elusive idea to break free from her subconscious. “One more second.”

  “Listen, call me if you remember.” Trixie slid behind the wheel. “I’ve got to get to the grocery store and pick up something to cook for dinner.” She tilted her head. “Isn’t that a baby I hear crying?”