Come Homicide or High Water

by Denise Swanson

  Behind Skye, Wally had both CJ and their contribution to the Thanksgiving feast. CJ was happily cooing at the flakes and Skye wondered how she managed always to be carrying the twin who was crying.

  After settling the babies into their car seats, Skye and Wally climbed into the SUV and headed toward her parent’s place on the other side of town. The streets weren’t bad yet, but if the snow continued to fall, they would be by their return trip. Especially the country roads.

  Ten minutes later, Wally pulled the Mercedes behind Gillian’s minivan and got out of the car. “Looks like your mom and dad have a full house.” He opened the back door of the SUV, unbuckled CJ, and scooped him into his arms.

  Skye did the same with Eva, then said, “Yep. Thanksgiving is the only holiday that both the Denisons and the Leofantis always celebrate together. Plus all the extra people Mom invites. It’s always quite a crowd.”

  “Be careful.” Wally did a quick shuffle to remain upright and CJ chortled, waving his little hands in the air. “I’ll come back for the Crock-Pot.”

  “Good idea.” Skye slowly stepped toward the sidewalk. “Salt doesn’t work on gravel so the driveway is going to get treacherous. I sure hope no one falls.”

  “Well, at least we’ll have a doctor available if they do.” Wally smiled.

  Skye shook her head. “You do know that insanity doesn’t so much run in my family as it strolls through, taking its time to get to know each of us personally? Is Dr. Norris prepared for that?”

  Wally had told her about inviting the ME, which was fine—no one should have to be alone on a holiday. But his scheme to hook the woman up with his father had Danger, Will Robinson written all over it.

  “I have a feeling not only will Doris Ann be okay with it, she’ll love it.” Wally grinned, then stopped and pointed at the yard, which was swathed in a mantle of pure white, with only the occasional paw print to mar its pristine surface. “Wow! That’s really beautiful. It looks like a Christmas card.”

  “You know I don’t like snow.” Skye scowled. “It may be pretty, but not pretty enough to make up for the fact you have to hike through it, shovel it, and scrape it off your windshield.”

  Wally ignored her words and said, “Look at those evergreens.”

  “Dad planted them the week after my parents moved into their new house.” Skye stopped to calculate. “That would have been over forty-three years ago. I hadn’t even been born yet.” Skye glanced at the windbreak of firs that looked like flocked Christmas trees. They bordered the property on three sides and were a good twelve feet tall.

  Continuing onto the back patio, Skye noticed her mother’s concrete goose no longer wore the pilgrim getup it had on last week. The cement fowl now sported a button-down jacket over a dickey, a red necktie, a skirt, and a hat. A tiny umbrella with a brightly colored parrot handle rested along its wing. Skye wrinkled her brow. What in the world did this costume mean?

  Wally nudged Skye’s shoulder and asked, “Why is May’s goose dressed like Mary Poppins?”

  “Shoot!” Skye clutched Eva so tightly the baby squeaked. “Mom found out about Dorothy, and she’s ticked her friend’s going to be our nanny.”

  “You didn’t tell her Dorothy was going to be our live-in housekeeper?”

  “Not yet. I was waiting for the right time.” Skye inhaled sharply. “But someone spilled the beans, and my money’s on Vince.”

  Her brother had a big mouth and loved to stir up their mother. He’d probably offered that tidbit to May when he’d broken the news that he, his wife, and their kids were spending the holiday in Chicago at Loretta’s family celebration instead of at his mother’s.

  With visions of future revenge dancing in her head, Skye entered the house, pausing in the utility room to add her coat to those already piled across the washer and dryer. Then with Wally following closely at her heels, the foursome advanced into the large kitchen where eager hands took the twins from their arms.

  While Skye took the babies’ jackets off, Wally returned outside. When he got back, he handed Skye the Crock-Pot, then removed his own coat.

  Walking over to May he said, “I hope you don’t mind that I invited Dr. Norris to dinner.”

  “Of course not.” She patted his cheek. “I told you when you called last night that I’m always happy to have another guest. I put her right next to your father.” May winked. “Like you said, we can’t let that poor woman spend her Thanksgiving alone.”

  Skye rolled her eyes. Now her mom was in on Project Matchmaker.

  “You’re the best, May.” Wally hugged Skye’s mother, then walked out of the kitchen.

  Watching him leave, Skye wondered what it would take to change the tradition that allowed the men to sit in the living room watching TV while the women did all the work preparing the meal. Probably an apocalypse.

  Shaking her head at the blow to feminism, Skye greeted everyone, then nodded to the slow cooker and asked, “Where shall I put this?”

  Her mother was standing at the sink draining potatoes in a colander, and after she looked around, she said, “Set it on the table under the picture window. There’s a plug underneath the sill.” May peered suspiciously at the Crock-Pot and wrinkled her nose. “You were supposed to bring the cranberry sauce. What in the world is that?”

  “Cran-apple chutney.” Skye went to put the slow cooker down. “I thought I’d try something new.”

  May tsked. “What happened to the nice slices of jelly like we always have?”

  “No one really likes that stuff, so I made this. It has fresh cranberries, honey, orange juice, cinnamon, cider vinegar, and a dash of ground ginger. And it’s warm so it won’t make the turkey cold.”

  “I see.” May sniffed, turned back to the sink, and muttered, “Good thing I bought a can of cranberry sauce.”

  Skye’s aunt Kitty was stirring gravy at the stove, while her aunt Minnie had the oven door open and was basting the turkey. She kissed both of them on the cheeks and said, “What do you want me to do?”

  “Grab an apron and start wrapping the rolls in foil,” May ordered before either of Skye’s aunts could speak.

  Skye wondered why she had even bothered asking. The only task her mom ever trusted her with was warming up the dinner rolls.

  As she started tearing off sheets of Reynolds Wrap, her grandma Cora spoke. “How’s the house going? Will you be in before Christmas?”

  “Fingers crossed,” Skye answered quickly.

  Her grandma was seated at the kitchen table, and Skye shot her an innocent look. She didn’t want to discuss the murder, and she’d bet dollars to doughnuts that’s where this line of questioning was headed.

  Along the counter bisecting the kitchen from the dinette, her twin cousins, Gillian Tubb and Ginger Allen, sat on stools and rolled silverware into napkins. They weren’t allowed to do any actual cooking either.

  “Do you think your contractor killed his wife?” Gillian smirked at Skye.

  Ginger snickered. “Trust our cousin to hire a murderer.”

  Skye ignored the jab. “It’s hard to say.” She could tell they had already heard all about Jerita’s death. “So far there’s no evidence against Beilin.”

  May rolled her eyes. “It was probably Earl Doozier. If you weren’t protecting him, he’d be under arrest. He left the scene of the crime.”

  A voice rose, echoing off the cocoa-colored walls and the freshly scrubbed tile floor. Kitty’s daughter-in-law put her hands over Eva’s ears and Cora did the same with CJ.

  Ginger spoke above the roar. “But it’s usually the spouse, isn’t it? That’s the way it is on all the TV shows, and the reporters say that too.”

  Skye tore off another piece of foil. “Ginger, I don’t know how to break this to you, but the media is not a reflection of reality.”

  That seemed to give Ginger and Gillian something to think abou
t, and they whispered back and forth between themselves for several minutes.

  May finished at the sink and moved the bowl of boiled potatoes to the counter. As she added milk and butter she asked, “Ginger, Gillian, where are your husbands?”

  Gillian sighed. “They’re defending Scumble River from the invasion of vicious deer and venomous pheasant. In other words, hunting.”

  Before anyone could comment on Gillian’s statement, the outer door slammed, and footsteps sounded from the utility room. Charlie and a woman Skye didn’t recognize walked into the kitchen. The woman was in her fifties, wearing a pair of black slacks and a black turtleneck with a thigh-length pumpkin-colored cardigan. She had a coordinating scarf looped around her neck and her makeup was subdued. Ash-blond hair was styled in a smooth bob that stopped right below her chin.

  “Hi.” The woman moved forward and smiled at everyone. “I’m Doris Ann Norris.”

  “Nice to meet you, Dr. Norris.” Skye held out her hand. “I’m Wally’s wife, Skye.”

  “Call me Doris Ann.” The medical examiner gave Skye two six-packs of beer.

  Skye wedged the cartons in the already overstuffed fridge, then introduced the ME, who greeted each person with a warm handshake.

  May smiled and said, “Dinner will be ready soon. Would you like Charlie to escort you to the living room?”

  “Dr. Norris and I aren’t together. We just arrived at the same time.” Charlie shot May a sharp look.

  “Of course not.” May frowned at Charlie. “I just meant that Dr. Norris could join Wally and his dad. I understand that she’s originally from Texas just like them.”

  Skye examined her mother’s expression. May had been thrilled that Bunny had elected to have dinner with her son, Simon, and his girlfriend, Emmy. Skye, on the other hand, had been surprised that Carson had chosen to join their family’s celebration rather than eat with his girlfriend. Either the twins were a huge draw or his relationship with the redhead was cooling down.

  As Charlie and Doris Ann left, the women started talking. Skye listened to her female relatives speculate about the medical examiner, but they stopped abruptly when the ME reappeared in the doorway.

  Doris Ann eyed them all coolly, then grinned. “I think the real fun is probably out here.” She walked over and linked arms with May. “So who carves the turkey around here? Because I’m really good at cutting up bodies.” She winked. “You know, just sayin’.”

  * * *

  Once the food was ready, the men put up two long folding tables in the living room. Then three card tables were crowded into what had been Vince’s room before May took it over as her den, and all the leaves were installed in the dinette table. Once the seating arrangements were finished, everyone grabbed a napkin roll of silverware and filled their plates from the food set out buffet style on the counter and on the table under the picture window in the kitchen.

  It was the younger generation’s job to fetch drinks and disburse the hot rolls and butter. Skye was happy that her cousin’s children were now old enough to take their turn as servers, and even happier that the boys were pressed into duty with the girls. That was a huge change from her generation’s experience.

  In the past, the guys had always claimed the living room tables, the women had camped out in the kitchen, and the kids had taken the card tables in the den. This too was slowly changing, and finally more and more couples were eating together.

  When the feeding frenzy started, Skye slipped away to give the twins a bottle of the breast milk she’d pumped that morning and combined with baby formula. Once they were fed, she put them in the portable cribs May kept in Skye’s old bedroom. With the babies napping, she returned to the kitchen and Wally handed her an empty plate and a silverware roll.

  After they got their food, they found two chairs together between May and Cora and sat down. Skye immediately cut into her turkey and savored the flavor. She had been lucky enough to nab a piece with crispy brown skin and she planned to enjoy every bite.

  Okay, she had hidden the piece under a pile of less desirable dark meat before anyone else went through the buffet line, but she counted this as the one advantage of being chained to the kitchen.

  Just as Skye put a big forkful of sausage dressing into her mouth, May leaned toward her and said, “I thought you were trying to lose the baby weight. I’m sure stuffing isn’t on your diet.”

  Skye swallowed, but before she could tell her mother to mind her own business, Wally scowled at May and said, “Skye is perfect the way she is and her doctor was very pleased at her last checkup.”

  From the other end of the table Doris Ann added, “You know, May, your diet isn’t only what you eat.”

  “What do you mean?” May asked, a look of confusion on her face.

  “Your diet consists of what you hear, what you read, and the energy that the people around you release.” Doris Ann raised her eyebrow. “We should be far more concerned about the emotional and spiritual meals we put into our bodies than the physical food.”

  May grunted, pursed her lips in disapproval, and turned to talk to her sister, Minnie Overby.

  “That’s very interesting, Doris Ann. Thank you.” Skye shot the ME a grateful smile, then said to Wally, “And thank you, honey.” Skye touched her husband’s hand. “You are so sweet.”

  As she continued to eat, Skye looked around. Gillian and Ginger were chatting with her cousin Kevin’s wife, so Skye turned to her grandmother and whispered, “What do you think of Dr. Norris?”

  “She looks like a smart cookie.” Cora took a sip from her coffee cup, then winked. “She’d probably make a mighty good mother-in-law.”

  “Seriously?” Skye shook her head. She hadn’t realized that Wally had enlisted so many members of her family to help him with his plan to switch his father’s affections from Bunny to the ME.

  “Bunny’s not a bad gal.” Cora’s wrinkled face took on a faraway expression. “But she’d have trouble fitting into Carson’s life when he goes back to work full-time. She’d be miserable as a CEO’s wife.”

  Skye pondered her grandmother’s words. What she said was true, and Carson had as much as admitted that himself before he left for his board meeting. It probably was best if her father-in-law and Bunny drifted apart, but Skye just hoped that neither would be hurt.

  Talking to one of the Leofanti relatives, Doris Ann’s voice rose above the others. “The best thing about the good old days is that I wasn’t old or good.”

  Skye grinned. The ME’s view of the world was certainly unique.

  After dinner, the women cleaned up and did the dishes while the men watched football on TV, played cards, and napped. That still hadn’t changed, and Skye doubted that it ever would. At least not without a major rebellion from her female relatives.

  The afternoon drifted by. Little groups would form, chat, then drift into other clusters. Skye noticed her cran-apple chutney had not only been eaten, the Crock-Pot was completely empty. She made a mental note to inform May of its success.

  The snow had continued to fall, and by six, Skye was antsy to get home. She liberated Wally from her Uncle Dante, who was extolling the virtues of the city’s new K-9 officer, and they said their goodbyes.

  As they drove over the now treacherous roads, Skye was thankful for the Mercedes. The heavy SUV made the short trip between her parents’ place and the RV a lot safer.

  Still, Skye was clinging to the armrest and jumped when Wally suddenly broke the silence. “Doris Ann and my dad seemed to really hit it off. He offered her a ride to Texas on the corporate plane next time he goes down for a meeting.”

  “That’s great.” Skye bit her lip. “Do you think his and Bunny’s relationship is fading out?”

  Wally didn’t answer for a while, but as he turned into their driveway he said, “It might be. I don’t have anything against Bunny,” he chuckled, “except her son.
But I don’t think she’d enjoy the straitlaced part of Dad’s life.”

  “Well”—Skye glanced in the back at their sleeping babies—“I don’t think anyone would have thought we fit together too well either, but we seem to be doing just fine.”

  Chapter 23

  Please Go Home

  Early Friday morning, as Skye cautiously descended the RV’s steps, the roar of an engine turning into her driveway startled her, causing her foot to slip. She clutched the railing, wondering why no matter how much salt Wally applied, the metal stairs still remained icy.

  Peering down the driveway, Skye watched as her father’s old blue truck bumped over the snow-covered gravel. It rattled to a stop behind her SUV and she carefully made her way over to the pickup.

  Without turning off the engine, Jed rolled down the window and said, “Hey.”

  “Hi, Dad. What are you doing here so early? It isn’t even seven thirty yet.”

  “Ma and I have been up since five,” Jed said, then took a quick peek behind Skye and asked, “Where are the twins?”

  “Dorothy’s taking care of them today.” Skye explained, “I’m meeting Wally to search Beilin Quinn’s house. We’re hoping to find some clue about his wife’s murder. And after that, I’m going shopping for furniture.”

  Wagging his tail, Chocolate, her father’s Labrador retriever, hopped onto Jed’s lap, stuck his head out the open window, and licked Skye’s face. She scratched him behind his ears and told him he was a good boy, but wrinkled her nose at the aroma of wet dog wafting from the cab.

  “About Dorothy.” Jed frowned. “Your ma’s not too happy about you hiring her.”

  “Really?” Skye said noncommittally. She’d managed to avoid that particular conversation at Thanksgiving, but knew she’d have to have it eventually.

  “Your ma’s worried.” Her father pinned Skye with a sharp look.

  “About Dorothy taking care of the kids?” Skye knew that May could put the cloud in any silver lining, but Dorothy was one of her best friends. Her mother might be upset with Skye for hiring Dorothy rather than allowing May to be their granny nanny, but she shouldn’t be worried about her BFF taking care of the babies.