Zach drew six figures, then squirmed in his seat and chewed on his pencil before giving up. "Why did you have me do that?"
"On the first part, when you were copying the figures, I was trying to see how well your eye and your hand work together. This last portion was to measure how well you remember what you see. When I asked you to repeat the numbers after me and then say other sequences backward, it was to assess how well you remember what you hear."
"That number thing was hard, especially going backward."
"Yeah, remembering what you hear is difficult for you. That's why when teachers tell you something instead of showing it to you, it's hard for you to learn."
"Why do they teach that way, then?"
"Because some kids remember things they hear better than what they see. It's impossible to please everyone. That's why Mrs. Boyd and her assistants are there to help you."
The ringing of the dismissal bell took them both by surprise.
Zach got up and grabbed his backpack. "Do I come back here tomorrow?"
"Yes, we need to look at your reading, math, and spelling, and then I have to ask you a few questions. I'll leave a pass for you telling when you're supposed to come."
" 'Bye, Ms. Denison."
" 'Bye, Zach."
Skye packed up her equipment and put the cases near the door. She kept everything in her car trunk, since most of the instruments had to be shared among the schools. After locking the file cabinet, she put her purse over her shoulder and hoisted the test kits off the floor.
In the parking lot she set the cases on the ground near her car while she fished her keys out of her purse and unlocked the trunk to put the cases inside. Suddenly a hand reached around her and banged down the trunk lid.
Lloyd was standing right behind her. His eyes bulged and his face was rigid. He grabbed her by the upper arm and yanked. "Come to my office immediately."
Caught off guard, Skye stumbled as she went along with him. His fingers were cutting off the circulation in her arm. He shoved her into his office and slammed the door.
Skye tried to stay calm. "What is it, Lloyd?"
" 'What is it, Lloyd?'" he mimicked. "I want to know whatever gave you the idea that you had the authority to call the police?"
"You're talking about yesterday when your office was ransacked?"
"Of course I'm talking about that. Are you in the habit of calling the police?"
She deciding not to answer that question on the grounds it could incriminate her. Instead, she asked a question of her own. "Why would I not call the police after discovering that your office was vandalized?"
"Are you questioning my orders?" Lloyd grabbed her again.
She was ready this time and used a self-defense technique she'd been taught in the Peace Corps—shoving her thumb into his wrist and applying pressure until his hand bent backward. Lloyd yelped and released her, stumbling back into his desk.
"Don't touch me again, or when I call the police this time it will be to report an assault." Skye backed away, putting a chair between them.
Lloyd stopped. She could almost see his mind working. He visibly forced himself to calm down. "In the future I would prefer to make those kinds of decisions. We often handle minor problems in-house." He smiled insincerely and sat down behind his desk. "You do understand."
Uninvited, Skye also sat. "Yes, I understand that. What I don't understand is what makes you think you have the right to shout and manhandle me."
Pushing up the sleeve of her blouse, she displayed the angry red mark where his fingers had grabbed her.
He looked uneasy.
"I sure hope Uncle Charlie doesn't notice if this turns into a bruise."
"I apologize." He spoke through gritted teeth. "We'll want to keep this episode between ourselves. You know how easily rumors get started."
Skye smiled slightly. "Yes. Rumors certainly do start easily and die hard. In fact, there was something I heard about you yesterday that I wanted you to clarify."
"Fine. I have no secrets," Lloyd replied jovially, apparently attempting to make up for his earlier behavior.
"You've probably heard that my brother, Vince, was taken in for questioning regarding Honey Adair's murder?" Skye looked at Lloyd, who nodded. "I'm very concerned about this, and so I've been trying to find out more about Honey when she lived here."
"What has this got to do with me?" Lloyd fidgeted in his chair.
"Someone told me you were her softball coach the summer before her senior year."
"Really? I don't recall." Lloyd continued in a patronizing tone. "After all, I coached numerous sports for many years. I can't be expected to remember every student on every team."
"From what I was told, you should remember Honey. I understand the two of you had a closer relationship than you would have had with most of your students."
Lloyd's face reddened with angry color, and he lunged to his feet. "Who told you that? It's a lie! If I hear you repeating that piece of crap, I'll not only sue you for slander, I'll make sure you're dismissed. And don't think Charlie Patukas can protect your job. I've been talking to people at your old school. I know that you were fired, and I know why."
Skye was so upset by her confrontation with Lloyd that she was halfway home before she remembered that she had to get her paycheck in the bank before her account was overdrawn.
She pulled up behind a bright-green "duallie" truck with four rear tires instead of two, giving it the appearance of a toad. A purple bumper sticker read, MY KED CAN BEAT UP YOUR HONOR STUDENT. Skye had liked the original bumper stickers boasting of having a child who was an honor student, but trust Scumble River to come up with a grotesque variation.
Her banking took longer than she planned. Gillian, one of her least favorite relatives, was on duty at the teller's window, dressed in a hot-pink zip-front suit. The jacket was open to the waist, revealing a black stretch-lace camisole with a low neckline. Skye blinked and looked again. She didn't remember Gillian's being so well endowed. Skye
would have bet money that Gillian was wearing either sili-cone or a Wonderbra.
"Well, if it isn't my long-lost cousin Skye. Ginger said she saw you last night at the grocery store. When are you going to come visit?" Gillian asked.
Gillian was Ginger's twin sister. Both worked as tellers at Scumble River First National Bank. This often confused the customers, as well as the management. The twins were proof that evolution can go in reverse. Instead of getting smarter and learning from their experiences, both women tended to repeat the same mistakes over and over, with increasingly dire results.
"As soon as I get settled, I thought I'd have you and my other cousins over for lunch." Skye dodged Gillian's question while nudging the deposit slip toward her.
"We were sure surprised to hear you were coming home. This is such a small town, and we all have such small minds. Everyone thought you'd be living in New York or California by now."
Pasting a smile on her face, Skye shoved the check closer to Gillian. "Life is full of surprises. Maybe next year I'll be in Alaska. You can never tell."
"After all the times you said you'd never come back, it must be hard to face people." Gillian slowly started to tap the keys of the adding machine. "Especially after having gained so much weight."
Skye managed to keep a pleasant look on her face by thinking, Yes, it is. Thank you for announcing it to the world. If brains were lard, you wouldn't have enough to grease a skillet. She looked pointedly at the line growing behind her. "It's been great talking to you. We'll have to have lunch sometime. But I really need to get going now."
"Sure. We've really missed you at the family gatherings. It's a shame we never got to meet that fiance of yours before he broke up with you." Gillian completed the transac-
tion, giving Skye the deposit receipt and counting the cash into her hand.
Skye made her escape and hurried next door to the dry cleaners. For once it was a relief to pay the ransom fo
r her clothing. At least none of her relatives worked there.
CHAPTER 16
It's Impossible
Skye was stretched out across her bed with an icecube-filled washcloth covering her eyes. Her only movement was a fingertip idly tracing the stitching on the quilt. It had deep rose-colored diamonds and ivory rings on a cranberry background, and had been on every bed she'd owned since her Grandma Leofanti gave it to her when she turned sixteen.
After the scene at the junior high and the run-in with her cousin at the bank, Skye was emotionally exhausted. Upon reaching home, almost before closing the door, she'd shed her clothes and kicked off her shoes. She'd grabbed a handful of ice from the freezer and a cloth from the bathroom, then flung herself across the bed and tried to forget her encounters with Lloyd and Gillian.
The harder she tried to think of something else, the more the confrontations bothered her. As a psychologist I'm supposed to know how to deal with people. Instead, I'm alienating them left and right. First Darleen, then Wally, and now Lloyd. Who will be next? Gee, I haven't spoken to the superintendent of schools yet. Or how about the mayor? Maybe the pope will grant me an audience.
A loud ring from the telephone interrupted her self-casti-gation. She reached for the handset without removing the washcloth from her eyes. "Hello?"
"Good, you're finally home. Where have you been? It's almost five-thirty."
"Vince, I've had a bad day," Skye said in a don't-mess-with-me tone.
"I'm just calling to make sure you remember our double date tonight."
"Oh, my God!"
"You did forget," Vince said accusingly.
Skye responded petulantly, "Gee, I'm sorry I forgot something so important, but I have been a little busy trying to clear your name."
There was silence on the line, and Skye wondered briefly if he had hung up.
"Yeah, well, ah, thanks. That's good, because Wally was by the shop again today," Vince mumbled.
"You didn't say anything, did you?"
"No. He said he just wanted to make an appointment for a haircut."
"Well, you don't really believe that, do you?" Skye sat up.
"Of course I don't. I'm not as stupid as everyone in the family thinks."
"This is a stressful time, Vince. No one thinks you're stupid. We need to stick together." She swung her feet to the floor.
"Okay. Let's forget this stuff and have a good time tonight. What are you wearing?"
"Where are we going exactly?"
"We'll pick you up at six, which would put us in Joliet around seven. If we eat at the Red Lobster near Louis Joliet Mall, we could catch the nine o'clock movie at the cinema." Vince's voice became more animated.
"That sounds good. I guess I'll wear my black-and-white gingham shorts suit. Will that be all right? Or should I call Abby?" she teased.
Vince responded seriously, "No, that sounds fine. Do you have white flats?"
"Sure, they're ballet-style flats with bows."
"Great. What are you going to do with your hair?"
"Oh, I thought I'd wear it. Unless you think I should shave it off. What's going on here? I thought this was a casual date." She rubbed her throbbing temples.
"It is. I just want you to look nice. Mike hasn't seen you in a long time."
"Is this about my weight?" Skye threw the damp cloth in the direction of the bathroom door.
"No, no, that's not it at all. Mike's a little conservative, and sometimes you dress a little wild," Vince hurried to explain.
"Are you kidding? I dress about as flashy as Marie Osmond. How conservative is this guy?"
Vince ignored her question. "Everything will be fine. We'll see you at six."
Skye had a bad feeling about this date, but reassured herself by thinking, After all, it's just one date. It's only a few hours out of my life. Vince andAbby will be with us the whole time. And I do want to ask Mike some questions about Honey.
She rolled off the bed and retrieved the wet cloth from the floor, using it to mop up the puddles from the melted ice cubes. After disposing of it in the bathroom hamper, she slipped into her robe, which had been hanging on a hook on the back of the door.
Skye took a moment to admire it. Running her hands over the powder-blue damask cotton, she snuggled in the French terry lining. It had cost more than she made in a day, but she couldn't resist it when she'd spotted it at Marshall Field's.
She had developed a clothes addiction when she returned from her stint in the Peace Corps. After wearing nothing but denim shorts, jeans, and T-shirts for four years, she had gone on a shopping spree that rivaled Imelda Mar-cos's. She still liked nothing better than to shop until she dropped.
Skye took one look at her rumpled hair and pale skin in the bathroom mirror and switched on her electric curlers. While she was waiting for them to heat up, she washed her face and applied a generous dollop of moisturizer.
Allowing the lotion to soak in, she set her hair before applying her makeup. Skye employed a lot of cosmetics to appear as if she used none. First came the base. Next she used a concealer to cover the circles under her eyes. After a light dusting of translucent powder and some blush she was ready to work on her eyes.
Skye's eyes had always been her best feature. Their effervescent color and large size drew admiring glances and comments wherever she went. The cream and taupe eye shadows, dark green eyeliner, and mascara were merely embellishments.
It was five minutes to six by the time she finished dressing. She was fastening her watch when the doorbell rang. Slipping on an onyx ring shaped like a cat's face, she walked to the front door.
Abby, Vince, and Mike were all standing on her porch. Mike was dressed in a conservatively cut navy suit. His light blue shirt matched his eyes, and his hair was cut as short as possible without edging into a crew cut. Belatedly, Skye realized that she should have had something ready to serve them.
Stepping to one side, she gestured them into the foyer. "Please come in. I'm sorry the place isn't more furnished, but I'm still getting settled."
Vince saved her. "We really don't have time to stay. You know Abby, and this is my friend Mike Young."
Mike held out his hand. "Hi. I'm sure you don't remember me, but I certainly remember you. I always thought Vince's little sister was going to be a beauty when she grew up."
Having no answer to that statement, Skye smiled un-
comfortably and wondered if he was disappointed with the
reality.
Mike and Vince did most of the talking on the drive up. They thoroughly discussed the Cubs' latest season before moving on to the best way to work out at the gym. Abby was able to contribute an occasional comment on both subjects, but it sounded to Skye as if they were speaking Swahili.
Red Lobster was mobbed when they arrived. The lobby was full, and people were standing outside on the front walk, making it difficult to negotiate passage through the throng. Vince offered to fight his way to the front to find out how long a wait there would be.
The loudspeaker squawked, "Martin, party of four."
A group rose from one of the two benches outside the door. Skye was not able to see how it was accomplished, but miraculously she found herself seated between Mike and Abby.
Mike leaned back, stretching out his long legs, seemingly unaware of the dirty looks from the people standing in front of him. "Ah, this is better. You comfortable, girls?"
At the word girls Skye shot Abby a look. A slight shrug of Abby's shoulders stopped Skye from pursuing the matter.
"We're fine, Mike. Thanks for snagging the bench. Fve been on my feet all day." Abby slipped off a sandal and rubbed her instep.
"Oh, anything special happen at school or just the usual disasters?" Skye turned slightly to look at Abby.
Before Abby could answer, Vince pushed his way back out the door and plopped himself down on the bench next to her. "It's a madhouse in there. The hostess said it would be about forty-five minutes. You guys wa
nt to stay or try somewhere else?"
"It's Friday night. Everywhere will be crowded. Let's just stay here." Skye looked at the others for agreement.
Mike reached across the women and lightly punched Vince in the arm. "I told you we should have gone someplace where they take reservations."
Vince muttered under his breath, "You did not."
Skye was surprised to hear Vince answer back. He usually avoided confrontation. The silence became uncomfortable as the men silently stared at each other.
It occurred to Skye that this might be the time to ask about Honey and Mike's past relationship. She didn't want the conversation to end like the one with Lloyd had earlier, so she chose her words carefully. "Mike, you and Vince go way back, huh?"
"Yep, we were in kindergarten together." Mike sat back and extended his arm across the back of the bench.
Vince added, "Yeah, he was the one who borrowed the class hamster, and I was the one who got into trouble for it."
Wow, two confrontations in a row. This isn't like the Vince I know. Maybe he changed while I was gone. Skye looked at her brother thoughtfully
"Vince, why bring up ancient history?" Mike replied. "Remember Matthew, chapter six, verse twelve: 'Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.'"
Skye frowned. "I thought that was from the Lord's Prayer."
"You Catholics do not know your Bible."
Not wanting to get sidetracked from her original line of questioning, Skye asked, "Were you two friends throughout school?"
"Yeah, I guess. More so in high school, when we were both on the basketball team," Vince answered.
"That must have been tough. If it was anything like when I was in school, all the popular girls went out with the basketball team. I remember my junior year two of our
stars fought the whole season over one girl. They never talked except on the court."
Mike laughed. "We never seemed to have the same taste in girls. Vince always liked the ice queens and I preferred the sex kittens."
"I recall one girl you both liked," Abby said softly.
Skye could have kissed her. This was exactly where she wanted the conversation to go. Disregarding the dirty looks that both Vince and Mike shot at Abby, Skye asked, "Would that have been Honey Adair? I understand almost every male in Scumble River was attracted to her."
Murder of a Small-Town Honey srm-1 Page 13
