Murder of a Small-Town Honey

by Denise Swanson

  “Okay. What day is this?”

  “It’s Friday. Doc Zello gave you a sedative and you’ve slept for almost two days.”

  “So, the thing with Mike and the car wasn’t a dream?” Skye sat up and rubbed her face.

  “No, I’m afraid not.”

  “What’s been going on while I’ve been sleeping? Is Vince out of jail?”

  May took the pillows and arranged them so Skye could lean back. “Vince has been home since yesterday. He’s staying here until things calm down a little. He insisted on opening the shop for his eight o’clock appointment today, so your father drove him to work. Jed’s cutting the grass at the shop for him.”

  “Now I know I’m dreaming,” Skye said. “I can’t believe Dad has given in.”

  May frowned. “I wouldn’t say that to your father.”

  “No, of course not. What else has happened?”

  “I’d better start at the beginning or we’ll be here all day. Let’s see. On Wednesday, right after Doc Zello started examining you, Simon and Wally arrived. Both had heard the news on their scanners. They both wanted to talk to you, but Doc Zello said absolutely not.”

  “I’ll bet the chief was ticked.”

  “Neither was a happy camper. They recovered Mike Young’s body and the negatives late Wednesday afternoon. I had already called your friend Loretta. That is one tough lady lawyer. She really got them moving to release Vince. Boy, was she mad when they wouldn’t let him go Wednesday night. She’s talking about a wrongful imprisonment suit.”

  “Wow. Anything else?”

  “Oh my, yes. The police searched Mike Young’s studio and found the gloves he wore when he stabbed Honey. They’d been washed, but blood always lingers.” May got up from the bed. “They also found the surveillance camera he had rigged at Honey’s condo and the listening device he had planted at your cottage.”

  Skye closed her eyes and wondered exactly what Mike could hear. She certainly hoped it didn’t pick up sounds in the bathroom. “It must have been pretty busy around here.”

  “You don’t know the half of it. Everyone we know has stopped by to see how you and Vince are, and they all brought food. I can’t get another thing in the freezer.”

  “Wow.” Skye shook her head. “Gee, I’d love to take a shower and get into some fresh clothes. Could you go get me something to wear from my cottage?”

  “Already done.” May grinned. “I got you a couple of outfits and your cosmetics. I knew you’d never willingly face the world without some makeup. I’ll bet you were the only Peace Corps volunteer in Dominica who wore mascara.”

  Simon and Charlie were sitting at the kitchen table when Skye emerged from the bathroom. Jed and Vince arrived shortly after that. Chief Boyd pulled in seconds later.

  He strolled into the kitchen, nodded at its occupants and said, “Could I speak to you alone, Skye?”

  Simon, Charlie, Vince, and Jed said no, but Skye spoke over their objections, “Sure, let’s go into the den.”

  The den was really a fourth bedroom that had been equipped with a sofa, chair, and TV.

  Before the door was fully closed, Wally whirled on Skye and ground the words out between his teeth, “What in heaven’s name possessed you to drive your car over the side of that bridge? You could have been killed. Are you crazy or just plain stupid?”

  Skye took a step forward so that they were nearly nose to nose. “What should I have done? Waited for you to rescue me? I’d be dead now, and you’d still be trying to pin the whole thing on my brother.”

  “You could have . . . ah . . . you could have signaled someone for help.” His tone lacked conviction.

  “Right. There are so many people hanging out on Cattail Path.”

  “Well, you should have done something else.”

  “That’s the point, Wally—there was nothing else to do. I would have rather died trying to get away than be shot like a helpless child.”

  Wally shrugged and eased himself into the La-Z-Boy. “Okay, tell me everything that happened from the time Mike appeared at your house.” He clicked on a tape recorder. “All right if I use this?”

  “Yes.” Skye sat on the sofa and explained the events leading up to her kidnapping and Mike’s death.

  He nodded. “That’s what we figured. We found all kinds of stuff that Mike must have stolen from his friends and customers. There must have been a hundred ashtrays alone. Why would he do that?”

  She shrugged. “Must be something in his background. Some need he was trying to fill.”

  “Well, he didn’t have an easy time of it with his father that’s for sure. His dad was an alcoholic and liked to knock his family around when he was drunk.”

  “I never knew that. Is that common knowledge in town?”

  “Might be. Hard to keep secrets in Scumble River. But it’s one of those things everybody knows but no one talks about. Because if you admit to knowing it you’d have to do something about it. I only found out yesterday by looking at old police records and questioning some of the older dispatchers.”

  Skye stretched and got up. “At least we don’t have to put everyone through the misery of a trial. You have enough to wrap things up, don’t you?”

  The chief grudgingly agreed that the people being blackmailed had suffered enough, so he would let the matter drop. Skye was sure his wife’s involvement helped him make that decision.

  Wally turned down May’s invitation to lunch and left.

  The rest of them sat around the table and discussed the past few days as May began serving the food. First she placed a ham on the table and handed Jed the carving set. While he was occupied, she put out bowls of scalloped potatoes, Waldorf salad, creamed peas, pearl onions, and glazed carrots. Grandma Denison had sent over a batch of her rolls, served hot with butter. May poured iced tea and they dug in.

  No one spoke until Skye finished her first helping and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Charlie, I forgot all about the board meeting Tuesday night. What happened with Lloyd?”

  Charlie snickered. “Oh, we fixed his wagon. The district is now accepting applications for a new junior high principal.”

  “How did you manage that?” Skye reached past Vince for a roll.

  Leaning back, Charlie took a generous swallow of his iced tea. “You remember when my house was broken into, right?”

  “That was Mike, wasn’t it?” Skye nabbed the butter as it was being passed.

  “Nope, Lloyd did it. He was looking for Honey’s yearbook. I must have mentioned looking for it in front of him, and he got nervous about what he wrote by his name.” Charlie sipped his drink.

  “What made you realize that it was Lloyd?” Simon questioned.

  “I didn’t, but I took the opportunity when everyone was so involved in the murder to break into his office.”

  “Oh, Uncle Charlie, how could you?” Skye’s knife hovered above the half-buttered roll.

  “I knew there was something fishy about that guy. It turns out he and Mike Young had a scheme going with the school pictures. Say someone bought a package worth twenty-five dollars. Lloyd and Mike would take half the money and the records would show a payment of only twelve-fifty. The school board always wondered why the junior high’s profit on that fund-raising activity was so much less than the other two schools.” Charlie folded his hands over his stomach and grinned.

  Vince wondered out loud, “So, Lloyd broke into your house and you broke into Lloyd’s office. Where was Mike Young in all of this?”

  “Getting ready for his date with me, no doubt.” Skye shot Vince a look.

  Simon added, “Don’t forget he was also searching Honey’s condo, rigging the surveillance camera, and bugging Skye’s cottage. I’d say he was pretty busy.”

  “I want to know how he got hold of my shears,” Vince said.

  Skye answered, “Chief Boyd explained that. Turns out, in addition to his other nasty habits, Mike took things.”

  “What do you mean, took things? He was a thief, t
oo?” Vince reached for his glass.

  “Yeah. I’m never letting you set me up with a blind date again.”

  Simon took Skye’s hand. “That’s good to hear.”

  They were interrupted by a knock on the door and a voice calling out, “It’s Darleen Boyd. Can I come in?”

  Jumping out of her seat, May rushed to the door. “You come on in. You’re just in time for dessert.”

  Darleen tried to say no, but before she knew it, she was seated between Skye and Charlie. As if by magic, a piece of apple-slice pastry appeared in front of her.

  May finally allowed Darleen to speak after everyone was served their sweet. “This is kind of hard to say in front of you all, but I know that you already know most of the story. When Wally stopped by the school and told me about the record of my being blackmailed, I decided to start fresh. I took half a personal day and came over here to explain.”

  Skye turned to her. “You don’t owe any of us an explanation. I’m just sorry your personal problems got dragged into the open as much as they have been.”

  “But I want to tell you,” Darleen insisted.

  Charlie patted her arm. “We’re all ears.”

  “Well, Wally and I decided to try and have a baby about three years ago. At first we weren’t concerned when I didn’t get pregnant right away, but then I started to worry. About a year went by and we started talking about getting tested. Before we decided, I got a letter in the mail. I still can’t figure out how Honey found out about this, but we weren’t keeping our attempts to conceive a secret.

  “Anyway, the letter revealed that back in high school Mike had a sexually transmitted disease that he gave to Honey, which made her sterile. She figured I must have the same thing and that was why I wasn’t getting pregnant. So she threatened to tell Wally if I didn’t pay her to keep quiet.

  “I quit telling Wally I wanted us to be tested and paid up. A month ago Wally insisted that we get examined. When I got the results, I finally came clean with him and stopped paying Honey.”

  Skye poured her a glass of iced tea and said sympathetically, “We’re all so sorry.”

  Darleen got up and made her way to the door. “You know, I do feel much better now that I’ve talked about it. Since this nightmare started, I haven’t been able to eat much, but now I think I’m actually hungry.”

  Those were the magic words that May lived to hear. She packed a lunch and had it in Darleen’s hand before anyone else could bat an eyelash.

  Skye’s curiosity was still not satisfied. “I wonder why Honey raised the blackmail amounts so suddenly?”

  “I can explain that,” Charlie said. “When I talked to her agent, she said her show had been canceled. She was going to be out of a job come September.”

  “This time I have a question for Simon.” Skye pinned him to his seat with her gaze. “How did you find out my favorite flower and brand of chocolates?”

  He looked guiltily at May. “I asked your mother.”

  There is no such thing as privacy in a small town. Haven’t I just watched a bunch of people learn that the hard way? Skye straightened. “Let’s get back to Vince’s questions about Mike’s stealing. He never took valuable items, just bits and pieces. People mostly thought they’d misplaced things. When the police searched his place they found boxes of sunglasses, pens, ashtrays, key rings . . . you name it. A lot of the stuff had people’s names on it.”

  “Why would he do something like that?” Jed asked.

  They all looked at him in surprise, as he rarely contributed to conversations.

  “Well, Dad,” Skye replied, “Mike’s family wasn’t anything like ours. His father was an alcoholic and abusive. He must have always felt like an outcast.”

  May asked, “How do you know all this?”

  “Wally told me about Mike’s dysfunctional family. I’m guessing the rest from my experience as a psychologist,” Skye said.

  May frowned. “Seems that people are always just telling you something.”

  “After all this,” Simon said, “maybe next time someone tries to confide in you, you’d better not listen.”

  Following is a peek at the

  next Scumble River mystery,

  Murder of a Sweet Old Lady

  coming from Signet in 2001

  Hey, Diddle, Diddle, the Cat and the Riddle

  Skye Denison warily studied the hostile faces of Gus Yoder’s parents. As a school psychologist, she often attended uncomfortable meetings, but this one was murder.

  Scumble River High School Principal Homer Knapik was seated to her right, and every time she glanced his way, her attention was drawn to the hair growing out of his ears. The long wiry strands quivered like the curb feelers on a car’s wheels. Skye had heard the students call him Mr. Knitpick behind his back, and she was beginning to understand why. The man could not make a decision to save his life . . . or hers.

  Across the table Leroy Yoder raged, threatening the school with everything from a law suit to an atomic bomb. He and his wife, Charlene, had come in demanding that their son be allowed to graduate with his class, and nothing either the principal or Skye said seemed to penetrate their anger.

  Homer and the parents had been posturing and snarling for over an hour, with no sign that they would stop anytime soon.

  Skye watched in hypnotized fascination as a drop of sweat danced on the tip of Leroy’s off-center nose. In Illinois, even the first day of June could have temperatures reaching into the nineties. The underarms of her own blouse were soaked and she squirmed uncomfortably in the plastic chair’s too-small seat.

  Tucking a loose chestnut-colored curl behind her ear, she narrowed her green eyes and tried once more to intervene, rephrasing what she had been saying over and over again since they had first sat down. “Mr. Yoder, Mr. Knapik and I have told you that whether or not your son graduates is not up to us. It is a matter you must bring up to the school board. Since we have only a week of school left, you need to request a special hearing so you have a decision before graduation night.”

  Homer glared in Skye’s direction and Charlene Yoder hunched farther down in her chair, looking as if she would like to cover her head with her arms.

  Leroy Yoder swung his massive head toward Skye and pinned her with his frenetic stare. “I want my son to graduate. Gus passed all his courses. You got no right to keep him from getting his diploma with everyone else.”

  She felt sorry for these parents. Like many others, they couldn’t let themselves believe that their child could do the awful things of which he was accused. “As Mr. Knapik and I have explained, our handbook states that a student who is in the process of an expulsion is not eligible to participate in any school activities, including graduation. This is a school board policy. We have no choice in the matter.”

  “You people should never’ve started this whole thing. Gus didn’t do nothing wrong,” Leroy shouted.

  “He tried to rape a girl at knife point, and was found with drugs in his possession,” Skye stated calmly.

  Charlene Yoder started to speak, but was interrupted by her husband, who sprang out of his chair and lunged across the table, bringing his face to within inches of Skye’s. His breath was like a furnace belching rotting eggs, and she unconsciously moved back.

  He grabbed her upper arms and dragged her halfway across the conference table. “My son didn’t touch that girl.” Yoder gave Skye a shake as if to emphasize his point. “The boy didn’t have no weapon.” He shook her again. “And Gus don’t use no drugs.”

  Skye tried desperately to free herself from his grasp. Her breath was coming in shallow gasps and she felt lightheaded. She couldn’t get her voice to work.

  Homer seemed paralyzed. Nothing moved, including his eyes.

  After a final shake, she was abruptly dropped back into her chair as Leroy Yoder continued, “The whole business will be thrown out as soon as we get ourselves a hearing.” Ignoring his wife, he stomped out of the room, his words trailing behind him: “Let me
make myself clear. Either Gus graduates with the rest of his class or you two don’t see another school year.”

  It was a relief for Skye to return to her office at Scumble River Junior High. She slid down in the chair until she could rest her head on its back. From this angle, all she could see was the stained white ceiling. The odor of ammonia was strong today, brought out by the humidity, but at least she was spared the sight of the battered, mismatched furniture in the claustrophobic six-by-six-foot room.

  Skye didn’t dare complain about the conditions. It had taken a minor miracle to get what she had. In the elementary and high schools, she had to scrounge for any open space each time she needed to work with a student. That meant she had to lug any equipment she needed from school to school like a door-to-door salesman. Still, she counted her blessings. She knew of many psychologists who had it worse.

  It was nearly one, but she didn’t want lunch. She was still too upset from the morning’s events at the high school to consider eating. Skye was accustomed to parents whose walls of denial went up like the force field on the Starship Enterprise, but the Yoders had no clue that their son was hooked on something, and it wasn’t phonics.

  Even though she’d been gone from Scumble River for many years before her recent return, Skye remembered that the townspeople liked to handle their problems by themselves. Still, she was upset that Homer had refused to call the police on Mr. Yoder, and had forbidden Skye from contacting them. She rubbed her bruised upper arms and shivered. Yoder had clearly assaulted her and threatened them both.

  After brooding for a bit, Skye remembered the emergency chocolate bar she had stashed away for just such an occasion. In one smooth motion she snatched her key ring, turned toward the file cabinet, and retrieved the candy.

  She was just peeling back the silver wrapper of a Kit Kat when the PA blared. “Ms. Denison, please report to the office. Ms. Denison, please report to the office.”

  Skye reluctantly rewrapped the bar and tucked it into her skirt pocket. Why did everything always have to happen on a Monday?