Murder of a Royal Pain srm-11

by Denise Swanson

  “You mean, your husband doesn’t know you were in rehab?”

  “No. I told him I was visiting my parents in Florida—they retired to Naples a few years ago.” Evie inserted the money into a pouch and zipped it shut. “But it was worth it. I haven’t had a drink in four months.”

  “Okay. Say I believe you. Then how could you have been drunk and passed out the night Annette died?”

  “After seeing you and thinking you were a ghost, I ran out to my car.” Evie shoved her chair back and got to her feet. “Dylan found me there and was comforting me. When the police showed up, Dylan hid on the floor of the backseat, then sneaked back into the hall through the window in the men’s room.”

  “By comforting, I assume you mean boinking your brains out?” Skye stood, not wanting Evie to loom over her. “So you were only pretending to be drunk? You’d rather your husband think you fell off the wagon than that you were riding Dr. Paine’s chassis.”

  “You know”—Evie pushed her way past Skye to the door—“someday you’ll go too far, and instead of investigating a murder, you’ll be the victim of one.”

  Skye sped into her driveway, nearly rear-ending the black Land Rover parked in front of her house. Once she got the Bel Air under control, she hopped out of the car and dashed up the front steps. It was nearly midnight. What was Kurt doing here?

  Kurt met her at the top of the stairs. His usual good humor was absent, and he stood blocking her access to the porch. “Why didn’t you tell me Annette Paine’s death was declared accidental?”

  “What?” She pretended surprise.

  “Don’t try that innocent act with me,” Kurt said sharply, biting off his words. “That’s what Simon was here yesterday to tell you, wasn’t it?”

  “Go away. It’s late and I’m tired.” Skye shoved him back, walked past him, and unlocked the door. “We’ll discuss it tomorrow.”

  He ignored her words and followed her inside. “You don’t believe it’s an accident, do you?”

  “No, I don’t.” Skye went into the kitchen and took a two-liter bottle of Diet Coke from the fridge. “And I said we’ll talk tomorrow.”

  Kurt reached around her and snagged a beer. “I promise to leave as soon as I finish this.” He waved the bottle of Beck’s at her.

  “Fine.” Skye narrowed her eyes. “But I don’t know why it has to be this minute.”

  “Let’s just say, so I can sleep better.” Kurt joined her at the table.

  Skye gave in. It was easier to go along with him than fight him. After all, she had agreed to work with Kurt on solving the murder. “Either Annette’s asthma attack was brought on deliberately, or the rope strung across the passageway was meant for someone else.”

  “Like you?”

  She nodded. Since Skye had heard from Simon about the location of the rope, it had seemed less likely that Quirk had tried to kill Hope. If he’d been after her, the rope would have been suspended in her assigned area, not Skye’s.

  “So who wants you dead?” Kurt made wet rings on the tabletop with his bottle.

  “There is a parent who might be crazy enough to want to kill me, and no I can’t tell you who. Or Quirk might have been right all along and Annette was the intended victim.”

  “So Quirk is wrong in calling Annette’s death accidental.”

  Skye’s jaw was set. “That’s my current theory.”

  “I agree that her death wasn’t accidental, but I don’t think she was the one the murderer was after.” Kurt’s expression was dark and unfathomable. After a few seconds, he seemed to come to a conclusion and said, “Everything points to you—the rope being where it was, Annette looking like you, someone nearly running you over last Sunday.”

  “Maybe the driver was Annette’s killer, and thinks I saw something incriminating the night of the murder.”

  “More likely it’s that parent who’s mad at you, and by the way, I know it has to be Zinnia Idell.” Kurt stared at Skye, but she kept her expression blank. “Either that, or maybe it’s an ex, or an ex’s ex.”

  “No.” Skye shook her head. “I dated Simon before Wally, my ex-fiancé lives in New Orleans, and Wally’s ex-wife moved to Alaska.”

  “Are you blackmailing anyone? Do you owe money to anyone?”

  “No to both.”

  “Murder is usually about love, money, or power. Do you have power over someone? Or do you have something someone wants?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “How about at school?” he asked.

  “Not really. The principal or superintendant can overrule anything I do. Which is why the crazy-parent theory doesn’t make sense to me.”

  “There’s something we’re missing.” There was concern in Kurt’s eyes as he fingered a loose tendril of hair on her cheek. “You need to be careful.”

  Skye felt a twinge in the pit of her stomach. Was it fear or attraction? “I’ll be fine.” Her voice sounded breathy to her own ears.

  Kurt cupped her chin tenderly in his warm hand. “How can you be sure?” His gaze caught and held hers.

  The rational side of Skye was frantically yelling, You need to stop this right now, but the wild part of her personality was murmuring seductively, He’s so hot, one little kiss won’t hurt anyone.

  “I don’t want anything to happen to you.” Kurt leaned closer; less than a whisper of space separated their lips.

  Before Skye could decide whether to lean forward or backward, a voice from the kitchen doorway said, “Nothing is going to happen to Skye. She’s my number one priority.”

  Skye jerked away from Kurt and scrambled to her feet. “Wally!”

  He strode across the kitchen, tossed a bouquet of pale pink roses on the counter, and thunked a bottle of champagne down beside it, then put an arm around Skye’s shoulders. If looks could kill, Kurt would be vaporized, and Skye’s life would be hanging by a thread.

  Kurt certainly did not seem intimidated by the older man. He casually got up and sauntered over to where Wally and Skye stood, stuck out his hand, and said, “Chief Boyd, I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Kurt Michaels from the paper.”

  Wally ignored the reporter’s hand. “I remember you.” He stared into Kurt’s eyes. “I believe you were just leaving.”

  Skye stepped away from Wally, her emotions teetering between guilt and anger. Wally certainly was entitled to be upset after catching her in a fairly compromising position. But, they weren’t engaged, and he had no right to order people out of her house.

  Kurt turned his back on the chief and said to Skye, “Do you want me to go?”

  “Please.” She took his arm and guided him toward the foyer. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  “Promise?”

  “Yes.” As soon as he cleared the threshold, she closed the door. One down. One to go.

  When Skye returned to the kitchen, Wally was sitting in the chair Kurt had vacated. The champagne had disappeared and the flowers were in the trash can. He twisted off the top of a bottle of beer, took a long swallow, and raised his eyebrows. “So?”

  An unwelcome blush crept into Skye’s cheeks. “It wasn’t the way it looked.”

  “It looked as if he was about to kiss you.”

  “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t have let that happen.” As with any good Catholic girl, guilt was winning, but she fought the emotion.

  “You weren’t putting up much of a fight when I walked in.”

  Attempting to deflect the focus from herself, she said, “Speaking of that, why didn’t you ring the doorbell? You never just walk in.”

  “I did ring it.” Wally stared at her. “Several times.” His brown eyes were as hard and opaque as volcanic rock. “When you didn’t answer I got worried. Your car was in the driveway along with a strange vehicle, and there’s a murderer on the loose. So when I noticed that the door wasn’t completely shut, I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  “Oh.” Skye’s guilt ballooned. “I wonder why the doorbell didn’t work.” She tried to lig
hten the situation by joking, “Maybe my ghost is playing tricks on us again.”

  Wally didn’t smile.

  She tried distracting him. “I thought you wouldn’t be able to get away until tomorrow.”

  “I offered the nurse a bonus and was able to arrange for an earlier flight. You weren’t here when I got into town, so I dropped my luggage at my place, checked in at the PD, and came back to see if you were home yet.” He took another swig of beer. “I missed you, and couldn’t wait another day to see you. Guess the feeling wasn’t mutual.”

  “No. It is. Truly.” Her flush deepened to crimson. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what possessed me. It was nothing.” Kurt had a certain sexual magnetism, but she had wanted Wally for years. “I lo—” She cut herself off. Why couldn’t she tell him that she loved him? Was it because love had never worked for her before, and she still didn’t trust Wally not to leave her? “It’s just that I’m tired and I haven’t been feeling well and I . . .” She trailed off.

  “I need to know that I can trust you.” Wally’s voice was ragged. “I can’t take another betrayal.” His ex-wife had left him without any warning, leaving a note and not much else behind.

  “I promise I’ll never do that.” Skye flung herself into his lap, hoping Mrs. Griggs’s ghost wouldn’t blow up the house because she and Wally were touching. “Forgive me?”

  For an instant Wally held himself rigid; then he wrapped his arms around her and whispered against her lips, “Always.”

  His kiss was hard and searching, and in returning it, Skye tried to show him the love she was afraid to express in words. She pressed closer, tunneling her fingers through his thick black hair.

  His hands moved to her hips, lifting and rearranging her so that she straddled him. She could feel his arousal through the wool of his trousers and the denim of her jeans, and it increased her hunger for him.

  Lifting his mouth from hers, he stripped off her sweater and unhooked her bra. As he trailed kisses from her neck to her breasts, she heard music.

  Unfortunately, it wasn’t celestial; “Hail to the Chief” blared from Wally’s pocket. Skye let out a tiny cry of frustration. Apparently his new cell phone worked inside her house. His old one hadn’t, and she’d never realized what a boon that had been.

  She got off his lap and reclaimed her bra and sweater. As a little joke, she’d had Justin program “Hail to the Chief” as the ring tone for someone calling Wally from the police emergency line. She knew they wouldn’t be getting back to their lovemaking anytime soon.

  While she got dressed, she heard Wally’s side of the conversation. “If she had a heart condition, why are you calling me about her death?” He listened intently, then stood. “Fine. I’ll be right there.” When he closed his phone, he said to Skye, “The high school’s night custodian was found dead by her son in your office. She had a heart condition, so it’s probably natural causes, but Reid is insisting it be treated as a suspicious death.”

  “That’s horrible. I know—I mean, knew—Gloria, and I know her son, Cameron. He’s a custodian at the grade school.” Skye’s voice cracked. She had liked Gloria, a woman who had worked hard all her life. “They’re both really nice, sweet people.”

  Wally murmured something soothing, then headed toward the door.

  “Can I come with you?” Skye followed him. “Simon isn’t prone to flights of fancy, so if he thinks something more than a heart attack is involved, it probably is.”

  Wally hesitated a fraction of a second, then agreed. “Sure.”

  She wrinkled her brow. “Maybe it has something to do with Annette Paine’s death.”

  “The connection being you?”

  Skye nodded.

  “I heard Quirk declared Annette’s death an accident. I take it you don’t agree.”

  “I’ll fill you in on what’s been happening on that front on the way over.”

  Once they were settled in Wally’s car, Skye turned in her seat and said, “The good news is, I don’t think Quirk had anything to do with Annette’s death. Even though he threatened Hope again, it’s probably a case of his bark being worse than his bite. The bad news is, there’s a better than fifty percent chance that the intended victim was me.”

  “Why?” Wally shot her a concerned look before returning his gaze to the road.

  Skye explained what she, Kurt, and Simon had figured out about the rope’s location, finishing with, “So, either the killer somehow knew that Annette would be dressed as a witch, would run down the hallway in my assigned position, and was prone to asthma attacks, or the trap was set for me instead.”

  “But whoever strung the rope would also have had to make you run down the hall.” Wally turned into the high school parking lot.

  “That was part of my act. When the audience stepped into the passageway, I was supposed to jump out from behind a panel, scare them, and then run away and disappear behind another panel at the opposite end of the hall.”

  “That’s not a very efficient way to kill someone.” Wally got out of the car, went around to the other side, and opened Skye’s door. “Maybe it was meant to be a joke.”

  “Maybe, but someone tried to run me over Sunday after church, too.”

  He stopped and swung her around to face him. “Why didn’t you ever tell me that?”

  “Quirk sort of convinced me it was an elderly driver who mistook the gas pedal for the brake, and at that time we still thought Annette or one of the other witches was the intended victim.”

  “But now you wonder.”

  “Yes.” Skye took a deep breath. “I think either the crazy parent who slashed my tires tried to kill me, or Dylan Paine murdered his wife, thinks I saw something that will incriminate him, and is now trying to silence me before I realize what I saw.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  Skye explained about Zinnia Idell’s presence at the haunted house and Dr. Paine’s affairs. Wally nodded and spoke briefly to Anthony, the officer at the door; then they walked silently to Skye’s office. When they crossed the threshold, Skye was glad that poor Gloria had been taken away—she’d seen enough dead bodies to last her a lifetime.

  Reid stood waiting for them, then without preamble said, “Cameron Unger arrived at midnight to pick up his mother, Gloria, who worked the four-to-twelve shift as the high school custodian. When she didn’t come out by twelve fifteen, he went in looking for her. He had a key, since he works as a custodian at the elementary school and sometimes subs for his mother at the high school. He found her sitting at Skye’s desk. She was unresponsive and he called for an ambulance. The EMTs summoned me as soon as they verified she was dead.”

  “But Cameron reported she had a heart condition?” Wally asked. “So why involve the police?”

  Simon looked at Skye. “Have you filled him in on events since he’s been gone?” She nodded and he continued. “At first, I was ready to believe it was natural causes, but then I looked at the scene and saw this.” He led them around the desk and pointed to the bottom drawer. It was pulled out, and an open package of Oreos was propped up against the side. “I take it those are yours?”

  “Yes.” Skye felt her face grow hot. Great. Now both Simon and Wally knew she gobbled down cookies while she worked.

  “I also take it you didn’t leave your desktop like this?” Simon directed their attention to a scattering of chocolate crumbs.

  “No, of course not.” Skye shook her head for emphasis. “My mother raised me better than that.”

  “I figured as much,” Simon murmured, half to himself.

  “I always clean up before I leave,” Skye continued. “I don’t want to attract ants.”

  “Which means Gloria was having a snack,” Wally concluded. “Have you noticed cookies missing before?”

  “No.” Skye closed her eyes, thinking. “But I have noticed the level in my candy jar seemed to be going down faster than it should. I give treats to the kids I test, and Trixie has a few pieces whenever she stops by, but the
y should be the only ones eating from the jar. I keep it filled with candy I don’t like so I’m not tempted.” All three of them looked at the jar in question, which was empty. “In fact, before I left today I noticed it was out of candy, and made a note to myself to bring in a bag on Monday to replenish it.”

  “So it’s reasonable to assume that Gloria was in the habit of eating some candy when she cleaned your office.” Simon pursed his lips. “And when there was none in the jar, she looked to see if you had any in the drawer, found your stash of Oreos, and helped herself.”

  “That all makes sense.” Wally nodded. “But what does it have to do with her death? Unless you’re saying you think Skye poisoned her.”

  “I’m sure it wasn’t Skye, but someone definitely tampered with those Oreos.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Destiny Awaits

  “You think someone put poison in my cookies?” Skye squeaked. That was just plain wrong—Oreos were sacred, the food of the gods. People should respect that.

  “Your imagination has run away with you, Reid,” Wally said, his voice edged with impatience.

  “Not at all.” Simon’s tone was unruffled. “As Skye will tell you, I don’t have an imagination. I only deal in cold, hard facts.”

  “And they are?”

  “When I saw Skye on Wednesday, she mentioned she’d been feeling sick on and off for the past few days. Her symptoms, together with Gloria’s death and some further evidence, made me consider the possibility of poisoning.”

  Wally turned his scowl on Skye. “You never told me you weren’t feeling well.”

  Skye felt like an escaped prisoner caught in a searchlight. “The flu is going around. I thought I was getting it.”

  “But you told Reid you were sick.”

  “When he stopped by to discuss the case, he noticed I was under the weather.”

  Wally’s face was expressionless, but his hands were clenched by his sides. “Sounds like you two have been spending quite a bit of time together while I’ve been gone.”

  Skye opened her mouth, but Simon answered first. “With Quirk refusing to consider any other scenario for Annette Paine’s death, we’ve been sharing information.” He met Wally’s stare. “But that’s all. Skye has made it clear it’s strictly business.”