Murder of a Barbie and Ken (23 page)

“Those trees are certainly magnificent.” A windbreak of towering evergreens bordered the property on three sides. “How long ago did your dad plant them?”

“The week my parents moved in.” Skye stopped to calculate. “That would have been nearly thirty-four years ago. Vince was three years old, and I hadn’t been born yet.”

As Skye and Simon stepped up onto the back patio, she noticed her mother’s concrete goose dressed in a pilgrim costume, complete with hat, buckle shoes, and a tiny musket resting along its wing. She was extremely relieved to see that May had finally changed it out of the wedding dress it had worn the last couple of months.

She and Simon went into the back door of the redbrick ranch-style house, through the utility room, where they added their coats to those piled across the washer and dryer, and into the large kitchen. Simon waved and said hello to the bustling women but didn’t stop to chat. He had learned his lesson the first time Skye brought him for a holiday gathering. The men all sat in the living room while the meal was being prepared.

Skye greeted everyone, then nodded to the tray she was carrying. “Where shall I put this?”

Her mother, standing at the sink draining potatoes in a colander, looked around and said, “Put it on the table under the picture window.” May peered suspiciously at the platter. “What is it?”

“Chicken liver pâté.” Skye kissed her mother’s cheek, and set the dish down.

May tsked. “What happened to the nice Jell-O salad recipe I gave you?”

“Nothing. I just thought this might be something a little different.”

“Different is right.” May sniffed and turned back to the sink.

Skye’s Aunt Kitty was stirring gravy at the stove, and her grandmother, Cora Denison, had the oven door open and was basting the turkey. She kissed both of them and asked her mother, “What do you want me to do?”

“Grab an apron and start wrapping the rolls in foil,” May ordered.

Skye wondered why she had even bothered asking. This was the only task they ever trusted her with.

As she started tearing off sheets of Reynolds Wrap, her grandmother asked, “How are things with you and Simon?”

“Good,” Skye answered cautiously. Too much enthusiasm and the family would start planning the wedding. Too little and they’d start setting her up on blind dates.

Along a counter bisecting the kitchen from the dinette, her twin cousins, Gillian Tubb and Ginger Allen, sat on stools and rolled silverware into napkins. They were from the Leofanti side of the family.

“What do you think of his mother?” Gillian asked, then smirked at her sister.

Ginger snickered.

Skye could tell they had already heard all about Bunny. “She seems really … really …”—Skye searched for a word and settled for three—“full of life.”

May rolled her eyes. “She’s full of something, alright. You’ll all get to meet her. Skye invited her to dinner.” May paused for effect. “Charlie’s bringing her.”

A murmur swept through the kitchen, echoing off the celery-colored walls and the freshly waxed linoleum.

Ginger said, “But we heard Simon didn’t want to see her. Is that fair to him?”

Skye tore off another piece of foil. “Ginger, all reports are in: life is officially unfair.”

That seemed to give the twins something to think about, 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’re your husbands?”

Gillian sighed. “They’re defending Scumble River from the threatened invasion of various deer and pheasant.”

Skye grinned.
In other words, hunting
.

The outer door slammed, and footsteps sounded from the utility room. Charlie and Bunny had arrived. Bunny entered first, wearing a royal-blue calf-length sheath. Her makeup was subdued, and her red curls were pulled back into a French twist.

For a moment Skye was relieved. Then Bunny moved farther into the kitchen. The slit up the front of her dress opened and the keyhole neckline parted.

Skye’s cousins and aunt stared as Charlie made the introductions. Her grandmother nodded pleasantly.

May bared her teeth in a fake smile and said, “Charlie, why don’t you take Mrs. Reid into the living room? Dinner will be ready soon.”

“Bunny, call me Bunny. Mrs. Reid reminds me of my mother-in-law, may she rest in peace.”

Charlie shot May a sharp look—it was obvious he knew that the women stayed in the kitchen—but put his hand on Bunny’s back and said, “This way, my dear.”

As Charlie and Bunny left, the women started talking. Skye listened as her female relatives proceeded to tear into the subject of Simon’s mother.

They stopped abruptly when Bunny reappeared in the doorway. She eyed them all coolly, then grinned. “While I’m always happy to be the only hen in the rooster house, I think the real fun is probably out here.” She walked over and linked arms with May. “So, whose reputation are we trashing?”

The men were seated at two long folding tables set end to end in the living room. They filled their plates from the food set out on the counter in the kitchen and then sat down. It
was Skye’s and her female cousins’ jobs to fetch drinks and disburse the hot rolls and butter. She was not happy with her position as serving wench, but fulfilled her duties in order to keep peace in the family.

As Skye poured iced tea into her brother’s glass, she whispered in his ear, “Doesn’t this archaic double standard bother you?”

“You think of it as a problem?”

Skye hissed, “Yes. I do.”

“Funny.” Vince grinned. “I think of it as a feature.” He held up an empty basket. “Oh, and when you get a chance, we need more rolls.”

Skye fought the urge to make Vince wear the breadbasket as a bonnet, and stomped off to the kitchen. When she arrived, the children were going through the food line. They would be seated at card tables in the family room, along with the teens who were supposed to keep an eye on them.

May thrust a pitcher of milk in Skye’s hands and said, “Hurry up. What’s the matter with you? You’re about as quick as a tortoise on Prozac today.”

Skye gritted her teeth, and trailed the children to their tables. She had tried to change how things were done several times in the past, but May’s silent treatment and the other women’s scorn had worn her down. Now she did as she was told, and bit her tongue.

After everyone else had been fed, the women were allowed to eat. They crowded around the dinette table. Skye found herself wedged between her mother and her grandmother, with her back against the wall. Until the people around her left, the only way to get up from the table would be to crawl underneath it.

Skye cut into her turkey and savored the flavor. She had been lucky and nabbed a piece with crispy brown skin. Okay, she had hidden it before anyone else went through the buffet line. She counted this as the one advantage of being
chained to the kitchen. The food was wonderful, and she intended to enjoy every bite.

May leaned toward Skye just as she forked sausage stuffing into her mouth. “I thought you were going to try and get into shape.”

Skye swallowed, determined not to let her mother ruin this meal. “I am in shape. Round is a shape.”

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

Skye looked around. The twins were chatting with her cousin Kevin’s wife. Skye turned to her grandmother and asked, “Do you think it bothers Ginger and Gillian that their husbands never attend any of the family get-togethers? Flip and Irvin always seem to be either hunting or fishing. The only time they show up is for funerals.”

“Irvin and Flip may not be the sharpest hooks in the tackle box, but they’re hardworking and loyal,” Cora replied, buttering a roll. “For a lot of women, that’s enough.”

“It wouldn’t be for me.”

“Me either.”

Skye knew she shouldn’t ask, but she couldn’t resist. “What do you think of Simon’s mother?”

“There’s a lot of hurting going on behind those false eyelashes and that flashy dress.” Cora took a sip from her coffee cup. “It’d be best all around if you could help Simon and her make their peace.”

“I know. But he doesn’t want to hear that.”

“You’ve just got to convince him that living well is the best revenge.” Cora’s wrinkled face took on a faraway expression. “You tell him that being miserable because of something bad someone did to him in the past just might mean the other person was in the right all along.”

Skye pondered her grandmother’s words, not sure she was willing to repeat them to Simon, and not even sure she knew what her grandmother meant.

Bunny’s voice rose above the others, talking to one of the
Leofanti relatives. “Honey, women may not admit their age, but men don’t act it.”

Skye fought a grin. Bunny’s view of life was certainly unique.

After dinner, the women cleaned up and did the dishes, while the men watched football on TV, played cards, and napped.

The afternoon drifted by. Little groups would form, chat, then drift into other clusters. Skye noticed her cousins were eating the pâté she had brought, but her aunts and uncles never touched it. Next year, she’d stick to Jell-O salad and save the pâté for romantic evenings with Simon.

Once Charlie and Bunny left, Skye felt it was safe for her and Simon to leave. She liberated him from her Uncle Dante, who was extolling the virtues of John Deere versus International Harvester tractors, and they said their good-byes.

As they were driving to Skye’s cottage, Simon said, “Well, that wasn’t too bad. Bunny didn’t do anything too embarrassing.”

“She was fine. Grandma Denison gave me some advice about her.”

Simon didn’t ask what. Instead he said, “I guess I’m just not used to so many relatives. There really was just Dad and me most of the time.”

“Families are like fudge,” Skye said with a smile. “Mostly sweet, with a few nuts.”

  
CHAPTER 19
  

Rumour is a pipe
Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures
.

—Shakespeare

T
he next morning, Skye eased the Bel Air to a stop next to her parents’ house. Before she could unfasten her seat belt, May zipped out the back door, hopped in the car, and said, “You’re late. I thought you’d had an accident.”

Skye checked her watch. “Sorry, I hit the red light at Basin and Kinsman.” There was no use debating the issue. She had said she’d pick May up around eight and it was a minute after. To her mother, anything other than a quarter hour early was late and cause for alarm.

May nodded, accepting the apology as her due. “Where are we going?”

“Wherever you want.” Skye was busy backing the huge vehicle out the narrow lane. Her father would never forgive her if she hit either of the white posts at the end of the driveway.

“Well, a lot of stores opened at six A.M. today, but you didn’t want to go that early.” May pouted.

“Right.” Skye refused to feel guilty. No way was she getting up at four in the morning in order to shop. “So where do you want to go?”

“I can’t decide between Joliet and Kankakee.”

“Your friend, Dorothy Snyder, lives on the way to Kankakee, doesn’t she?” Skye had been trying to figure out a way to talk to the Addisons’ ex-cleaning lady ever since Yolanda had brought up her name.

“Yes. Why?”

“Then let’s go to Kankakee.” As Skye headed the car in that direction, she told May about Dorothy’s connection to the investigation. She concluded with “I thought on our way back, we could stop by her house for a few minutes and see what she knows.”

“But you don’t suspect her, right?”

Skye mentally crossed her fingers. “No. I just want an insider’s view of the Addison household.”

The hour drive went quickly as Skye and May chatted, and before either woman realized it they were at the entrance to the mall. Even though it was barely nine o’clock, the parking lot was packed. Skye left her coat in the car and made a dash for the entrance. May kept on her jacket, but matched Skye’s pace.

“Where shall we start?” Skye asked, adjusting her fanny pack and making sure she tucked her keys in one of the zippered compartments.

“I need to get a dress for the police department Christmas party.”

Skye was not surprised. No matter what she and her mother started out shopping for, they usually ended up looking for clothes for May.

“What are you wearing?” May asked, leading Skye toward Carson’s.

“I’m not going. Remember, I don’t work there.”

“Oh, right.” May shrugged out of her coat and draped it over her arm. “You know, they should put you on the payroll,
considering all the cases you’ve helped Wally figure out.”

As they entered the store, an overwhelming mixture of perfumes greeted them. Skye immediately sneezed, and they walked briskly through the cosmetics department toward the misses petite sizes, trying to distance themselves from the overpowering scents.

Shopping for clothing for May was tricky. She wanted an outfit to make her look ten years younger, ten pounds slimmer, and ten times more beautiful. Skye held up a red dress for her inspection.

“You know I don’t look good in red.”

“Sorry.” Skye felt her eye start to twitch. “Give me a hint. What should I be looking for?”

May ticked off the requirements on her fingers. “Nothing fancy. It should be casual, but in a dressy way. No black. Not long, but not short either.”

“Okay.” Skye’s head was spinning with the conflicting descriptions. “That should be easy to find.”

“And I don’t want to pay a lot of money for it.”

It would be a long day. Skye held up another dress, this one a navy blue with a straight skirt and a tailored bodice.

“No. That’s too fitted. It would show all my rolls of fat.”

Skye bit the inside of her cheek. Her mother wore a size six or eight, and the only bulges were in her imagination.

May finally found a couple of dresses to try on and Skye perched on a bench outside the dressing room, waiting for her mother’s command to bring her a different size or color.

The white louvered doors burst open. May strode to the three-way mirror and turned from side to side. “What do you think?”