Next Skye called her mother.
May’s voice was shrill. “Fine. Then your dad and I are going over right now. I’ll trade my shift with another dispatcher. You can go right after school.”
“I’ll probably stop at my place so I can change and grab something to eat. I can’t get in until six and it’s only a forty-five-minute drive.”
May snorted and the phone went dead.
Skye wondered why she had even tried to explain. If she was going to survive living in Scumble River, practically on her mother’s doorstep, she was going to have to be more selective about what information she shared with her parents.
Walking over to the junior high, Skye didn’t notice the freshly cut grass or the singing birds. Instead, she planned the best route through the school if she wanted to avoid Lloyd.
When she entered the main hall, she saw that the coast was clear and sprinted to her room. A true sense of accomplishment filled her as she settled behind her desk. Only then did she realize that if she wanted to see Zach for testing she would have to send for him from the main office. The school felt that a telephone for her office was one luxury too many.
Skye steeled herself for an attack by Lloyd and went to the office. Ursula was dividing index cards into five different piles. Skye waited for a break in the action.
Ursula glanced up. “Mr. Stark wants to see you.”
“Now?” Skye felt her heart accelerate.
“Yep, said to send you in as soon as you got here.”
Skye moved toward the rear of the office and tapped on the partly open door before pushing it open farther. “You wanted to see me?”
Lloyd did not look up from his desk. “Right. Come in and close the door.”
She complied, the blood pounding in her ears.
After an interminable wait Lloyd finally put down his pen and looked up. “The superintendent has asked me to let you know that the incident with the boy hosting the sex parties has been resolved per your recommendations and he thanks you for your good work.” Lloyd’s mouth was pursed as if he had just bitten into a bug.
“Well, ah, thanks for telling me. I wondered what had happened with that case.” Skye waited for further directions, but Lloyd picked up the phone and dialed.
She let herself out of his office and walked over to the secretary to continue her original mission. “Ursula.”
“Yes?”
“Ah, could you . . . ah . . . call Zach Van Stee and send him to my office?” Skye stumbled, intimidated by the secretary’s sharp gaze.
“What class is he in?” Ursula turned toward the intercom controls, her finger poised over the multicolored levers.
“Ah, I don’t know.” Skye cringed, expecting the worst.
Ursula jerked her head toward a table by the wall. “Look up his schedule in the box.”
She waited impatiently while Skye fingered through the large white cards in the bin indicated. Pulling out Zach’s, she looked at it blankly. “I’m sorry, I know this is sixth period, but there are two different classes listed for him.”
“Those are the semester classes. Look at the class marked ‘one.’ ” Ursula sighed loudly. “Semester classes are marked one or two to indicate which semester the student is taking them.”
“He’s in Home Economics.” Then more quietly to herself, she added, “I hope.”
After thanking Ursula, Skye fled the office. While she waited for Zach, she set up the room for the assessment.
Today she would be administering the Wechsler Individual Achievement Test. Skye routinely gave only six of the eight subtests—the ones measuring reading decoding, reading comprehension, spelling, paper-and-pencil math, story problems, and written language. The other two subtests measured language skills, and she felt those were better left to the speech pathologist.
Zach walked in quietly and dumped his backpack on the floor. “Too bad you called me from Home Ec. We were making cookies.”
“Oh, that is a shame. Would a Tootsie Roll Pop ease your suffering?” Skye reached into a drawer.
“It’d help some,” Zach allowed. “What’re we going to do today?”
Skye handed him the bag of suckers, and he again selected a chocolate one.
She then answered his question. “I’m going to see how good you are at reading, spelling, and math. We’re going to start with some story problems. Here’s a piece of scratch paper and a pencil. You can use it on all the problems except the ones I tell you not to. Ready?”
Zach nodded.
“Okay, since you’re in sixth grade we’ll start with number eleven. Remember, it’s just like last time. Some questions will be too easy for you and some will be too hard. It’s all right not to know some.”
He nodded again.
“Look at the picture of the fish. Find the fourth fish from the aquarium.”
They finished the last subtest, written expression, half an hour before the final bell. Skye had one more part of the testing to complete with Zach, the clinical interview.
“That’s it for this test, Zach. Now I’d like to ask you some questions about you and how you feel about things. Then we’ll be done.”
“What kinda questions?” Zach asked warily.
“Stuff like, When’s your birthday?”
“That’s easy. November twenty-third.” Zach grinned.
“Do you know the year?”
Things were going smoothly until Skye asked, “If you had three wishes, what would you wish for?”
“Three more wishes,” Zach answered promptly.
“What would be the first three things you would ask for with all your wishes?” Skye attempted to pin him down.
“More wishes.”
She gave up, recognizing this as a typical preadolescent response.
With a few more questions and answers Skye finished the interview and handed him a piece of unlined paper. “Here’s a sheet of blank paper. Draw a picture of a complete person.”
“I’m not very good at drawing. Can it be a stick figure?”
“Make it as complete as you can. Just do the best you’re able to.”
Zach turned the page several times before settling down to work. He finished the drawing moments before the final bell. Standing, he picked up his backpack. “Will I see you again?”
Skye smiled. “I’ll be visiting your class to see how your teacher teaches you, but you won’t need to come here again.”
“Oh.” Zach hovered in the doorway. “This was sorta fun.”
“You did a good job for me. I appreciate how hard you worked.”
“Is it true that you saw that dead lady?” Zach’s hand was on the knob.
“Yes,” she answered cautiously.
“Was there blood everywhere?”
She shook her head. “No. Did you know Mrs. Gumtree?” “Nah, but my uncle dated her in high school.” Zach looked down at his feet. “When I told him about taking all these tests with you, he asked if you mentioned seeing anything when you found her.”
“Who’s your uncle?”
“Mike Young.”
Before Skye could respond, a voice from the hall yelled, “Zee, ya comin’ or not?”
Zach waved and ran out the door.
Skye put the materials back in their case and began to score the various tests she had given Zach. First Lloyd and now Mike. Everyone seems really interested in what I saw.
The town of Laurel was the county seat of Stanley County. It contained the courthouse, the sheriff’s office, and the jail. Skye spent the time driving there trying to figure out what to say to Vince.
She pulled into a metered space at a quarter to six. Digging through her wallet and tote bag, she came up with two quarters, a dime, and a nickel in change. This bought her two and a half hours. With visiting hours ending at eight she would have fifteen minutes to get from the jail to her car before it was parked illegally and ticketed or towed.
Skye wasn’t sure of the proper attire for a jail visit, but knowing Vince’s fastid
iousness, she had worn crisply pressed khaki pants, a light-blue oxford-cloth shirt and loafers. Going for a low-key effect, she had pulled her hair back with a tortoiseshell barrette.
She didn’t know where the entrance to the jail was located. Looking around, she decided the most likely direction would be through the sheriff’s office.
Its interior was similar to that of the police station in Scumble River. Walking in, she saw a bench to the left and a glassed-in counter to the right. Ahead was a closed steel door. There was a button on the counter, which Skye pushed.
A woman around May’s age stepped up to the window, leaned forward, and spoke through the grate. “Yes, what can I do for you?”
“I’m here to see my brother, Vince Denison.” Skye found herself somewhat embarrassed to admit that she had a brother in jail. “I was told that I could visit him between six and eight.”
The woman smiled warmly. “You must be Skye. I’m Betty. May and I know each other from dispatching. She told me all about you. Vince is really anxious to see you. Come on back and I’ll take you to the jail.”
Betty met Skye on the other side of the door and guided her up a corridor and down some steps. A man in a tan deputy’s uniform sat behind a desk, reading a newspaper and eating a sandwich.
Betty marched up and snatched the paper off the desktop. “Ed, this here is Skye Denison. Her mother is May Denison from the Scumble River P.D. She’s here to visit her brother, Vince. You treat her nice, and there’ll be cookies for you tomorrow.”
Ed put his half-eaten sandwich down, wiped his hands on his pants, and stood up. “Now, Betty, you’re going to make this girl think I’m not nice to everyone.”
She sniffed and started back. “You just remember she’s got to come back by my desk, and I’ll be asking her if she had a good visit.”
“Okay, Miss, you’ll have to leave your purse here, and I got to ask if you have any concealed weapons on you.”
Shaking her head, Skye handed over her tote bag. “I brought Vince a few magazines. Can I give them to him?”
“Let’s see ’em.”
“They’re in my tote, right on top.”
Ed examined the magazines, then turned them over and shook. A shower of subscription cards was the only thing to fall out. He handed the magazines to her. “We haven’t got a visiting room, so you’ll have to sit in his cell. You can take that folding chair by the desk. You’re lucky there’s only one other prisoner—it’s not too bad.”
Ed unlocked the steel door and led her into the jail. Skye followed, carrying the metal chair. The cell closest to the door held a short man with a barrel chest and shaved head. He appeared to have no neck. He lay on his cot with his eyes closed.
The next four cells were empty. Vince was in the last one, seated on the cot with his back supported by the beige cinder-block wall. The only other furnishings were a sink and a toilet without a seat.
While the deputy inserted the key he said, “Vince, stay right where you are.” Turning to Skye, he explained, “The prisoners are supposed to be leaning against the far wall whenever we open a door.”
Vince stayed seated and Skye walked in. She set up the chair. “Is there anything else, Ed?”
“Nope. I’ll leave the door by my desk open. Just yell when you’re ready to leave.” He slammed the cell door and walked away.
Vince got off the bed and held out his arms. “Thanks, Sis. I sure never wanted you to see me this way.”
Skye hugged him and gave him the magazines. “Here, I thought you might need something to read. Is there anything else I can get you?”
“No, Mom and Dad brought some clothes and stuff. They get our meals from the local restaurants.” Vince sank back onto the bunk.
She tried to make herself comfortable on the metal chair. “Tell me about the letter.”
“I wrote it after Honey started demanding more money. That letter was only meant as a bluff.”
Studying a scuff on her loafers, Skye avoided his eyes. “You never were too good at poker. I used to clean you out of your allowance all the time.”
“Have you found out anything? Loretta said you gave her the names of some other people who had motive and opportunity.”
Looking over her shoulder, Skye lowered her voice. “I had a date with Simon Reid on Sunday.”
“So? Is that the big secret?”
“He’s the county coroner.”
“Yeah, I know, and he owns Reid’s Funeral Home. How can you date someone who works with dead bodies?” Vince screwed up his face in distaste.
“Fine. How could you have slept with a woman who hit the floor anytime someone yelled ‘hoedown’?” Skye shot back.
He ducked his head. “Hey, let’s not fight. This whole situation is just so frustrating.”
“That’s okay. I’m sorry too. But Simon seems like a really nice guy. He knows how to keep a secret, and he’s helping me investigate.”
Vince got up and went to the sink. He toyed with the handles on the faucet. “How?”
“Simon was with me when I searched Honey’s condo, and he told me the results of the autopsy.” Skye stared at the graffiti behind Vince’s head. It claimed that Bubba loved Charlene.
“What did you find out? Where’s my son?”
“I’m sorry, Vince, you don’t have a son.” Skye was not happy to be the one to break the news to him. “Honey lied. The autopsy showed she’d never been pregnant. She was sterile.”
His shoulders sagged. “I think I always knew there was no child. She must have borrowed a baby that one time she let me see him, and sent pictures of a friend’s kid. Her bluff certainly worked better than mine did.”
“We did find a record of all her blackmailing activity.” Skye hastily added, “Besides you, she was getting money from Lloyd Stark, Darleen Boyd, and Mike Young. I’m pretty sure what she had on Lloyd—he had an affair with her when she was his student—but I haven’t got a clue what Darleen and Mike were paying her to keep quiet about. Do you have any ideas?”
Vince thought for a minute, pacing the length of the cell and back. “What Darleen could have done I can’t even imagine, but Honey used to hint about something she and Mike were up to.”
“We’re guessing that whatever she was blackmailing him about took place after she left town. She may even have snuck back into Scumble River from time to time. Her records show that Mike didn’t start paying until after he got out of prison, so I don’t think it was about drugs. And it probably happened after she left town.” Skye paused, then asked, “Can you think of anywhere she might have hidden something in town? Something that would give her the power to blackmail people?”
“Honey loved secrets and hiding and sneaking around. I think it was going behind Charlie’s back that turned her on more than I did.”
“Where did you two, ah, you know, do it?” Skye asked, curious as to the mechanics of the situation. “I mean, Charlie owned the only motel. Neither of you had any privacy where you lived, and as I remember you drove a Camaro—not exactly roomy enough for sex.”
“She had a few places all decked out and ready. But each boyfriend only got to know about one of them. Our place was the boathouse at the recreational club.” Vince frowned. “Wait a minute. I remember Honey talking about another of her rendezvous spots. She said ‘Union’ would be a good name for it.”
Skye thought hard. “There’s a lot of different ways you could take that. The Union versus the Confederacy, the union of two people in holy matrimony . . .”
“That doesn’t help much, does it?” Vince’s voice reflected his disappointment.
“It’s on the tip of my tongue. It’ll come to me if I think of something else.”
CHAPTER 23
Time in a Bottle
Vince kept urging Skye to leave before it got too late. He was worried about her lonely drive home. The roads between Laurel and Scumble River were rural and deserted at night. At quarter to eight, she gave in and called to the deputy.
A
fter hugging Vince good-bye, she accompanied Ed out of the jail. As she walked by the guy in the first cell, she asked casually, “What’s he in for?”
Ed locked the door and grinned. “That’s a funny one, Miss. That fellow walked into the travel agency in town and asked for an airline ticket. Didn’t care about the cost. He just wanted the next flight to Miami.
“The agent asked him the date of his return. He said no return, he wanted a one-way ticket. She wanted to know how he’d pay. He took out a roll of bills thick enough to choke a horse. They finished their business, he took the ticket and left. She figured it was sorta unusual, but . . . what the heck, it’s a weird business.
“Except he came in the next week and they went through the same routine. This time she called us. We checked things out. Shot his description to the feds, and what do you know? He’s wanted for drug smuggling in three states. We’re holding him until their agent gets here.”
Skye reclaimed her tote from the desk. “Pretty sharp travel agent.”
“They get real suspicious. There’re a lot of scams people try to play on them.”
“Thanks, Ed. I’d better get going before my meter runs out.”
“Tell Betty not to forget those cookies,” Ed shouted after Skye’s retreating back.
Betty looked up from her word search puzzle when Skye stopped at her counter to say good-bye. “Did Ed treat you okay?”
“He was very nice. What does he usually do?”
She walked with Skye to the outside door. “He likes to scare girls. You know, pretend he won’t let them out.”
“Well, thanks for taking care of him. I’m in no mood for that nonsense.” Skye waved and made her way to her car. It was eight-fifteen exactly, and the meter’s red flag popped up just as she pulled away.
Pondering the word union, Skye drove toward Scumble River. She turned on the radio, but WCCQ out of Crest Hill was full of static, so she tuned in to the Chicago country music station, US99.
According to the radio, it was nine on the dot when Skye turned onto Maryland Street in Scumble River. The news and weather were being broadcast, interrupting the music.
Murder of a Small-Town Honey Page 19
