“But you wished she hadn’t.” Wally didn’t blink.
“Can’t blame a guy for trying.” Simon crossed his arms.
The two men reminded Skye of a pair of male lions preparing to fight for the right to lead the pride. First Kurt, now Simon; Wally’s jealousy was getting out of hand. It was time to step in and get the discussion back on target.
She raised her voice. “If you are both through discussing me as if I weren’t here, I’d like to know what other evidence Simon found that suggests my cookies were poisoned.”
Simon refocused his attention on Skye. “When I examined the cookies’ packaging with a magnifying glass, I noticed evidence of tampering. Skye had torn the cellophane down the middle, but prior to that, someone had teased it open at the crimped end and glued it back together. And when I looked at the cookies themselves, I detected tiny holes in the edges of the cream centers—as if they had been injected with something.”
“You know”—Skye replayed the past week in her head—“I don’t think this was the first package of cookies that was dosed. I remember eating a cookie on Tuesday from a previous package that tasted funny.”
“Did you throw the rest away?” Simon asked.
“No.” It was embarrassing to admit it, but she didn’t want to lie. “There were only a couple left, and the flavor was okay if I ate them whole, rather than licking off the cream center from the chocolate wafer.”
“Hmm.” Simon stroked his chin. “When did you start this package?”
“Wednesday. And I had some again on Friday, as well, and those were the days I felt sick. I didn’t eat any on Thursday, and I felt fine that day.”
Simon nodded. “I’ve asked the ME to do a tox screen on the victim, and I’ll ask the county lab to test the remaining cookies. I have a book on poisons and, comparing your symptoms, I should be able to narrow it down for them.”
“That’s a good plan,” Wally agreed. “But why did Gloria die when Skye only got sick?”
Simon rocked back on his heels. “Gloria may have had an allergy or preexisting condition that made her more susceptible.”
“That sounds logical,” Wally said. “I’ll have the cellophane from the cookies fingerprinted, as well as Skye’s desk.” He turned to her. “Who has access to this office?”
“Anyone who’s in the school building,” Skye answered. “As long as the confidential material is locked away in the file cabinet, I don’t lock the door every time I leave for a minute. Then there are the master keys, which the main office and all the custodians have.”
Simon pointed out, “It doesn’t really matter. The locks on these doors are fairly easy to pick.” He added, “Since Skye is in danger, I’m asking that this case be considered urgent, and I hope to have the results by Monday.”
“Good.” Wally put his hand on Skye’s waist and guided her toward the door, saying over his shoulder, “Keep me informed.”
On Saturday, while Wally spent his time catching up on police matters, Skye tried to figure out who was trying to kill her. Even if Simon was right, and her cookies had been poisoned, that didn’t tell her whether she had been the intended victim from the beginning, or had become a target because Annette’s killer thought she had seen something.
Skye shivered, then straightened her spine. She wasn’t going to let the killer scare her. She wasn’t going to give him that much power. Besides, Mrs. Idell was being held until Monday’s bail hearing on the concealed-weapon charge from Friday night’s haunted-house incident, which meant that she, for one, wouldn’t be coming after Skye for the next two days.
Wally had found out that both Mr. and Mrs. Idell drove BMWs, vehicles that didn’t look at all like the car that had tried to run down Skye last Sunday, but he still wanted to question Zinnia, so he was going over to the Laurel County Jail to interrogate her at ten a.m.
Which left Annette’s enemies for Skye to consider. Skye evaluated the suspects. She’d already talked to Nina and Evie, and she was convinced that neither of them would risk giving Linnea an advantage in the race for prom queen by killing her mother.
Which was exactly what the two mothers of the other queen candidates said when Skye stopped by their houses Saturday afternoon. Kurt hadn’t been able to find anyone else with a grudge against Annette, and Skye was running out of people to interrogate.
She considered going to see Elvira Doozier. Earl’s statement had raised some important questions that only she could answer, but with a Doozier, often the direct approach wasn’t the way to go. Especially since Elvira’s sister-in-law would probably refuse to let Skye talk to the girl without extorting another Wal-Mart outfit from her. Glenda had already blackmailed Skye once that weekend, dangling Earl’s information over her head for bait, and it wasn’t going to happen again.
After careful consideration, Skye decided to concentrate on Dr. Paine. Knowing that he saw patients from eight a.m. to four p.m. on Saturdays, she decided to chat with him at the haunted house that evening. Wally wasn’t thrilled when she called him and told him her plan, but he agreed, as long as she took Anthony with her for backup.
Skye and the young officer arrived at the old American Legion hall early. Anthony stationed himself within earshot, but out of sight, and Skye approached Dylan Paine, who was playing a handheld video game as he reclined on the operating table in the Frankenstein scene.
“Hi, Dr. Paine.”
“Hello, Skye.” He sat up, appearing sheepish. Even though he hadn’t seen Skye when she’d opened the door on him and Evie, he’d probably noticed afterward that she’d signed in at the exact same time he’d been “thoroughly occupied.”
Skye felt no obligation to spare his feelings. “I stopped by for my Thursday appointment, but you were busy with Evie.”
“Oh. Yeah. The receptionist forgot to tell me you were coming in. Sorry.” Dylan gave her a “boys will be boys” smile. “Did you reschedule?”
“No. I didn’t really have a toothache; I just wanted to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“Your wife’s murder.”
Dylan frowned. “She wasn’t murdered. The police said it was an accident.”
“I think they were wrong.”
“Really? Why?”
He sure didn’t seem upset by her questions or the idea that his wife might have been a murder victim. Skye decided to try to shake him up. “It just seems too convenient. She was going to divorce you and take half your assets. You couldn’t let that happen. And as a dentist, you knew all about how to trigger a fatal asthma attack.”
Dylan threw back his head and laughed. “You’ve been listening to the gossips, haven’t you?”
“I saw your infidelity with my own eyes.”
“Annette knew all about my affairs, and she didn’t give a damn. All she cared about was my money and being Mrs. Dr. Paine. I found out early in our marriage that she never loved me. She was happy that I got my itch scratched elsewhere and didn’t bother her.” For a second his expression saddened. “She would never have divorced me. In a weird way, we were made for each other.”
“I see.” Skye wasn’t sure why, but she sensed he was telling the truth. “Still, a car that looked a lot like yours almost ran me down last Sunday after church.”
“I went to the Feed Bag as soon as Mass ended.” The lights flashed indicating that the haunted house would be opening in five minutes, and Dylan jumped off the operating table. “I heard it was fifteen or twenty minutes later that you were nearly hit.” He stuck his video game in his pocket. “Feel free to check out my alibi with Nina and Burt Miles. They had breakfast with me.”
“Thanks, I will,” Skye muttered as she walked away.
After checking with Anthony, who was staying at the American Legion hall for the rest of the evening to keep an eye on the event, Skye hurried to her spot and got ready to scare the patrons.
Saturday’s A Ghoul’s Night Out went as smoothly as Friday’s had, and when the haunted house closed for the night, S
kye drove to Wally’s place. He met her at the door and handed her a glass of wine.
Wally had redecorated a year ago, replacing the shag carpeting with hardwood floors. The walls were now painted a deep taupe, and a mushroom, cream, and rust–colored area rug occupied the center of the room. Arts and Crafts–style bookcases and tables took the place of the fake Early American ones that Skye had hated when she first saw his living room.
After they settled on the new cream leather sofa, Skye filled Wally in on her chat with Dylan Paine, concluding with, “I believe him about his and Annette’s relationship, and I don’t think he was involved in his wife’s death. I checked with Nina during one of my breaks, and she confirmed that Dr. Paine was with her and her husband at the restaurant at the time that the car nearly ran me down.”
“And, considering Gloria’s death last night, I believe Quirk.” Wally peeled the wrapper off his beer bottle. “I talked with him today, and he denies any involvement in Annette Paine’s death. He swears he just loses his temper whenever he sees Hope, but would never really hurt her. He was afraid you’d think less of him if you found out about his brother, which is why he didn’t want you on the case.”
“What did Zinnia Idell have to say?” Skye asked. “It would have been easy for her to sneak into my office and poison the cookies. She’s been around the school a lot the past month.”
“Well . . .” Wally’s brow furrowed. “She does hate you, and she admits she’s hired an attorney to sue you and the school district, but my impression is that if she wanted you dead, she would have shot you, not messed around with ropes and poison.”
“Great.” Skye’s heart skipped a beat. She was more afraid of lawsuits than she was of a murderer. “Did you get any prints from the Oreo package?”
“There were three sets of prints on it. We were able to manually match yours and Gloria’s, since we had yours on file and could fingerprint the body, but the unknown set will have to be put through AFIS as soon as the PD’s computers are up and running again.” Wally anticipated Skye’s next question. “And no, Zinnia Idell’s prints didn’t match the unknown set.”
Skye sighed. “What happened to the computers?”
“McCabe somehow managed to screw up the system.”
“Anything on the tox screen results yet?”
Wally shook his head. “Reid said not until Monday at the earliest, remember?”
“So if someone is trying to kill me, he has the rest of the weekend to do it.”
Wally wrapped her in his arms. “Guess you’ll have to stay close so I can protect you.”
“Hmmm.” Skye drew his face to hers. “If I do, will you show me your pistol?”
“I think that can be arranged.” He claimed her lips, crushing her to him.
Wally’s kiss sent her senses into a wild swirl, and she forgot about everything in the world except him.
Skye and Wally slept late; then, while she attended noon Mass, Wally went in to the PD. After church, since there was no one else Skye needed to question regarding the murder investigation—having decided to wait until she could chat with Elvira at school, where she wouldn’t have to pay a Wal-Mart fee—Skye went home.
Once she’d changed into sweatpants and a T-shirt, she checked her answering machine and found two messages.
The first one was from Homer. “Some jerk started a rumor that school is going to be closed on Monday because of Gloria’s dying in your office, but it isn’t, so you’d better be there.” There was a pause; then he said, “Hey, I told those county crime scene guys not to bother returning your chair when they finish with it. I figured you wouldn’t want it, since Gloria was sitting in it when she kicked the bucket. You can order a new one tomorrow.”
Skye grinned. Just when she thought there was no hope for him, Homer did something nice.
The other message was from Loretta. Skye tried to think of a reason not to, but finally forced herself to return her sorority sister’s call. As she waited for Loretta to answer, she prayed her friend wouldn’t ask her to take sides. No matter what Vince’s faults were, he was still her brother, and she could never turn her back on him.
“Hello.” Loretta’s voice was lifeless.
“Hi. It’s Skye.”
“I wondered if you would call or not. Are you mad at me?”
“Of course not. There’s just been a lot happening around here, and Wally was out of town for most of it, which made everything worse.” Skye finished telling Loretta about the two murders, then said, “So, that’s what’s been going on with me. How about you?”
“Let’s put it this way. Being the possible target of a deranged killer would be the high point of my week.” There was a hysterical giggle, then a sob. “I think I made the biggest mistake of my life.”
“Breaking up with Vince?”
“Yes. I never should have done it. I’m so miserable.”
“Why exactly did you break up with him?” Skye was confused. “Vince said you told him you two have different goals and dreams. Is that what you said?”
“Yes.” Loretta hiccuped. “But that wasn’t the real reason.”
“What was?”
“I knew he wasn’t the settling-down type, and time is running out. I want to have children while my parents are still young enough to take care of them.”
Skye giggled. Even when Loretta was upset, her dry humor was a hoot. “But you didn’t tell him that?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t want to sound needy.” Loretta’s tone was stubborn. “Besides, I said we had different goals and dreams. He should have known I meant I wanted to get serious and he didn’t.”
Skye blew out an exasperated breath. “What he thought you meant was that you’re an important attorney and he’s a hairdresser. He figures your family is rich and powerful and ours is poor, and the only place we have any influence is in a town of three thousand people.”
“I hope you told him that was stupid.” Loretta was starting to sound like her old, confident self. “Do you think Vince could get serious? Settle down?”
“I think that’s something you two should discuss.”
“But he probably hates me now.”
“Talk to him and find out,” Skye prodded. “You’re a tough criminal lawyer; surely you’re not afraid of my brother.”
“He might not even want to speak to me.”
“You’ll never know until you try,” Skye encouraged.
“So you think I should call him?”
“I think you should get naked, put on your fur coat, and show up on his doorstep.” Skye smirked. “It’s hard for a man to stay angry when he’s hard.”
Loretta giggled. “That’s not a bad idea.” Her voice was hopeful. “I’ll let you know what happens.”
“Not the play-by-play.” Skye so did not want to know the details of her brother’s sex life. “Just the final outcome.”
She and Loretta said good-bye, and Skye put the phone in its cradle, but before she could walk away, it rang again. Thinking it might be Loretta needing another pep talk, Skye scooped up the receiver and heard, “We’re home. How come you never returned any of my calls? What in the world have you gotten yourself into this time?”
She cringed. May was back, and there would be hell to pay.
Skye dreaded entering her office on Monday. The body had been removed Friday night before Skye had arrived, so at least she didn’t have a picture in her mind of poor Gloria dead. But the guilt of knowing that the woman had died from poison that was probably meant for Skye was hard for her to shake. Still, it wasn’t as if Homer would give her another space to use. She was pleasantly surprised he was springing for a new chair.
She checked the schedule on the office door; Jackie was at the junior high, so Skye had the office to herself. That reminded her—however much Homer and the other principals sang Jackie’s praises, Skye had yet to see her produce much in the way of results. The woman did a lot of talking, but hadn’t written o
ne social history or Individual Educational Plan goal. It seemed to Skye that when all was said and done concerning Jackie, far more was said than done.
Skye shrugged, then dragged a folding chair from the closet to sit on. Jackie wasn’t her problem. Figuring out who wanted her dead was what she needed to focus on. But, when Simon called at ten, she still hadn’t made any progress toward that goal.
He said, “I got the results from the lab. Your cookies were dosed with atropine.”
“What’s that?”
“The scientific name is dl-hyoscyamine. It’s from the belladonna plant. The type that was put in your cookies is a medication found in prescription eyedrops.”
“Oh.” Skye tried to remember if she had seen anyone using eyedrops lately.
“The funny thing is that an atropine overdose is not considered life threatening.”
“Then why did Gloria die?”
“The ME concluded that because she was taking digoxin for her heart condition, the atropine intensified the effect of that drug to a fatal level.”
“So her death was an accident,” Skye speculated. “Whoever injected my Oreos wanted me sick, not dead.”
“Or they didn’t know an atropine overdose isn’t usually fatal.”
Skye thanked Simon and hung up, then called Wally. Simon had already reported his findings to him, and Wally told Skye there hadn’t been any hits on the fingerprints yet. Disappointed, Skye closed her office and left for the elementary school. She and the team were meeting with Vassily’s parents at eleven to draw up an IEP for the little boy.
Although Skye was distracted, the conference went well. Mr. and Mrs. Warner agreed to the proposed IEP, and Vassily was set to start school on Wednesday. They were finished before noon, and Skye decided to return to the high school to talk to Elvira Doozier.
Normally Skye avoided taking students out of gym, since most of the kids enjoyed the class, or at least hated it less than the academic subjects, but Elvira was a different story. When Elvira arrived in the psych office, she said, “Thanks for getting me away from those Twinkies.”
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