Murder of a Botoxed Blonde (23 page)

Once he left, she let her spoon drop and sank back in the
booth, her head resting against the wall. She felt an extraordinary emptiness and had no idea what to do next.

What seemed like minutes later, Masie leaned into the booth and whispered, “Miss, Miss, are you okay?”

“Yes.” Skye blinked and focused; she’d been replaying every word she’d just exchanged with Simon. “Is there a phone I can use?”

“You need a ride home?” Masie asked sympathetically. When Skye didn’t answer right away she added, “I noticed your boyfriend leave in a snit. You should have seen the gravel flying from underneath his tires when he pulled out of the parking lot.”

“I’d like to call someone to pick me up,” Skye inserted, not wanting to hear anymore about Simon, or what their fight had looked like to other people.

“You live in Scumble River?”

“Yes, but I’m spending the weekend at the new spa.”

Masie pointed to the clock on the wall, which read quarter to twelve. “I get off in fifteen minutes and I’m going in that direction. I’ll give you a ride.”

“No, really, if I can just borrow a phone I’ll be fine.”

“It’s only a mile or so out of my way.” Masie winked. “You don’t remember me, but last year my grandson got in some trouble for having a box cutter at school. He uses it at his part-time job stocking shelves at the grocery store and forgot to take it out of his pocket. The principal kept yelling about a ‘no tolerance’ policy, but you stuck up for him and talked the principal out of suspending him. He was a C student at best, and if he would have been suspended he wouldn’t have graduated on time and would probably have just quit. Because of you, he got his diploma and was able to get a good job at the power plant.”

“Thank you for telling me that, and thank you for your kindness.” Skye smiled for the first time in hours. Simon may think she was an interfering busybody, but at least something she did had had a positive effect. “I would love a ride home.” She scooped up the twenty Simon had dropped on the table and handed it to Masie. “This is for our bill and
you keep the rest. Is it all right if I meet you by the door? I need to go to the restroom and freshen up.”

Masie nodded and Skye scooted out of the booth and walked to the back of the restaurant. She used the facilities and was splashing her face with cold water when two forty-something women came into the ladies’ room and headed into adjoining stalls. Both wore jeans and sweatshirts advertising the local casino boat.

The brunette yelled through the partition to the blonde, “I’m calling the police in the morning. That so-called Magic Mud is a fraud. I had my neighbor, the one who teaches chemistry at the high school, check it out. It’s nothing but dirt they dug up from their backyard.”

Skye frowned. Was the spa selling a phony product? No, the spa’s mud was called Miracle, not Magic. She combed her hair, playing for time until the brunette came out of the cubicle and started washing her hands.

Skye tapped the woman on the shoulder. “Were you talking about the mud the Scumble River Spa is selling?”

“No.” The woman reddened slightly. “We bought ours from this roadside stand. It was a quarter of the price the spa wanted.”

Ah, the pieces were falling into place. “Was this stand on Cattail Path?”

“Why, yes. A heavily made-up woman was doing the selling.” The blonde added helpfully, “I think her name was Glinda, like the good witch in
The Wizard of Oz
.”

“Thanks.” Skye backed out of the bathroom, muttering under her breath, “Good witch my eye. The only way Glenda Doozier is a good witch is if a B is substituted for the W.”

E
very muscle in Skye’s body throbbed, and she felt lightheaded. The muscle aches were probably due to the unaccustomed exercise, and maybe the dizziness was from lack of rest since it was only six a.m. Masie had dropped her off at twelve thirty, but she hadn’t been able to fall asleep for hours, alternately crying over lost love and seething over Simon’s unreasonableness.

She might also be woozy from lack of nourishment. After sharing the supplies she’d brought back Thursday night, she had run out of food by lunchtime yesterday.

Or maybe, she was coming down with something. She’d gotten a flu shot, but in her profession she was constantly exposed to germs that even regular hand washing and waterless cleansers couldn’t completely eradicate.

Holding her head, Skye eased upright. The room spun a couple of times, then righted itself. She made it to the bathroom, and after a shower, felt somewhat better.

Trixie continued to snore softly from the other bed as Skye threw on jeans and a sweatshirt, then scooped the daily activity list from the floor. She still needed to talk to Amber, Ustelle, and Kipp, as well as Dr. Burnett.

Taking a seat at the desk, Skye plotted her day. Should she have the treatments first, then run home for clothes and food and to check out the Dooziers? No, it would be easier
to make appointments for the afternoon and take care of the non-spa stuff right away.

Skye took a sheet of stationery from the desk drawer and wrote:

7:00
A.M
.—
CALL FOR SPA APPOINTMENTS
/
BORROW TRIXIE’S CAR

7:30
A.M
.—
HOME GET MORE CLOTHES AND FOOD

8:00
A.M
.—
BREAKFAST WITH WALLY

9:30
A.M
.—
CHECK OUT DOOZIERS

11:00
A.M
.—
FACIAL WITH USTELLE

LUNCH

1:00
P.M
.—
MANICURE AND PEDICURE WITH AMBER

2:00
P.M
.—
HAIR WITH KIPP

4:00
P.M
.—
CONSULTATION WITH DR. BURNETT

5:00
P.M
.—
MEET WITH WALLY RE EXCHANGE OF INFO

DON’T FORGET VANDAL TREASURE HUNTER
!

As soon as the second hand of her watch clicked onto the twelve, Skye picked up the phone and hit the appointment button.

Her call was answered immediately by the receptionist. “Good morning, how may I help you?”

Skye made all of her arrangements, thanked Barb, and hung up, then walked over to where Trixie slept.

She shook her shoulder gently. “Trixie, can I borrow your car?”

Trixie turned her head away, mumbling, “Sure, fine, whatever.”

“Where’re your keys?” Skye kept her voice low.

Trixie muttered, “Purse,” then pulled the covers up over her head.

Skye found the keys, stuffed her dirty clothes into her suitcase, wrote Trixie a note since she didn’t think her friend would remember their conversation, and hurried out of the spa. She waved at the few people who were already up and about, but kept moving, refusing to be waylaid by casual conversation.

The bellboy wasn’t on duty, but Skye had no trouble finding
Trixie’s car in the back lot. Luckily it wasn’t blocked in, and she could drive away with no problem. Heading home, she was tempted to check out the Dooziers, but realized they were better left until she had a full stomach, a clearer head, and had conferred with Wally.

Bingo greeted Skye ecstatically as she came through the door, purring and rubbing against her legs. This affectionate welcome lasted precisely a minute and a half, then some internal feline signal sounded and he herded her toward the kitchen. A bowl of water and another of diet cat food sat untouched near the counter, but his Fancy Feast dish was licked clean and pushed into the center of the room.

Skye shook her head. The vet didn’t want her to give Bingo canned food, but the cat refused to eat the dry food if the moist one was withheld. The last time she had tried to follow the vet’s orders, Bingo had gone for three days without eating before Skye caved in and gave him what he wanted. It was pretty sad that her cat had more willpower than she did.

After she spooned the pungent-smelling grilled tuna into his bowl, she grabbed a brown sugar cinnamon Pop-Tart for herself—her own form of Fancy Feast—and the cordless phone, then went upstairs.

As she changed into black jeans and a leopard patterned long-sleeved T-shirt, she phoned Wally. He was on the other line so she left him a message to meet her at eight for breakfast at the Feed Bag, the only real restaurant Scumble River could claim. Their other choice was McDonald’s, and that would be filled with kids and families.

Quickly she dumped the dirty clothes from the suitcase into the hamper, then packed a few clean outfits. She left the rest of the luggage space for the food she planned on getting from the grocery store.

Skye had made record time, and it was only a few minutes after eight when she pulled into the Feed Bag. There was no sign of a squad car in the parking lot, but as Skye swung Trixie’s Civic into a spot by the entrance, Wally’s cruiser turned in.

Skye waited on the sidewalk, watching Wally as he strode
toward her. His powerful, well-muscled body moved with an easy grace, and as he came nearer, she could see his broad shoulders straining against his navy uniform shirt.

There was a look of contentment on his ruggedly handsome face that she didn’t remember seeing before. And when he reached her a sensual gleam lit his brown eyes. “Darlin’, what a wonderful surprise.” He gathered her into his arms. “I thought I wouldn’t get to see you until tonight.” His mouth covered hers hungrily.

Carried away by her own response, she forgot they were in a very public place until Wally released her, and she found herself looking straight into the eyes of Father Burns, the Catholic priest from her church.

As her cheeks reddened, she managed to stammer, “Good morning, Father.”

The priest murmured, “Good morning,” back, but hurried past them to his car, his brow wrinkled.

“He usually stops to chat,” Skye said to Wally.

“Maybe he was late for an appointment.”

“Maybe.” Skye wondered if the priest was upset she was dating Wally, a divorced non-Catholic. Or maybe it was just their public act of affection he disapproved of—though he usually wasn’t the officious type.

Wally seemed unaware of Skye’s concern. He took her hand and began kissing her fingers.

“We need to be more discreet. People will talk if we …” She trailed off, trying to stifle the dizzying electricity caused by Wally’s lips on her skin.

“If we what?” He swung her into the circle of his arms. “Hug?” His mouth swooped down to capture hers. “Kiss?”

“Yes.” Her voice was breathless. “Either. Both.” She tried to move away.

“Then let them.” He kept his arm around her waist, not letting her go. “We don’t have anything to keep secret or be embarrassed about. I’m proud to let everyone in Scumble River see that we’re together.”

“It’s just that …” Skye hesitated; she had almost said that Simon always said they should be circumspect. “We both have jobs where our public image is important.”

Wally scowled. “That sounds like Reid talking.”

“Well, maybe, but you see his point.”

“No. He’s just a tight ass.” Wally grinned, then turned serious. “Look, I’m not saying we make love in the middle of the parking lot, but a kiss or a hug is not out of line for two people involved with each other. We don’t have to hide our relationship and I don’t want to. Are you ashamed to be seen with me?”

Skye looked into his warm brown eyes and shook her head. “Never.”

“Good.” He took her hand and led her into the restaurant. It had been redecorated in 1984, with lots of mauve and brass. Twenty years later, time was catching up with the interior. Rips in the vinyl seats had been repaired with duct tape, and smudges on the walls had been dabbed with a color that didn’t quite match the original paint.

After they were settled into the back corner booth Wally had requested, Skye asked, “How did your stakeout go last night?”

“Interesting.” Wally glanced at the menu, then closed it and put it aside. “You witnessed Frisco’s affair with Margot, were told about his affair with Amber, and from what you overheard, there’s also a chance he was sleeping with Esmé. Well, Whitney met him in the garage.”

“So much for her period of mourning.”

Wally’s eyes glinted with amusement. “Yeah, her grief seems to be as real as her eyelashes.”

“Did they …?”

“Let’s just say your mother may want to spray the backseat of her Olds with Lysol as soon as she gets home.”

“They Used my mother’s car! Why?”

“It was one of the oldest parked there, which means it’s got the biggest backseat. Plus she never locks it.”

Skye smirked. “I can’t wait to hear her reaction when you tell her that.”

“I’m not the one who’s going to tell her.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but the waitress interrupted. Without thinking, Skye ordered the farmhand special: two eggs, two pieces of bacon, two sausage patties,
hash browns, and two buttermilk pancakes. Immediately she felt embarrassed and chuckled weakly. “Guess I’m a lot hungrier than usual. They don’t feed us much at the spa. I don’t eat like this all the time.”

Wally asked for biscuits and gravy, then waited for the waitress to fill their coffee cups and leave before saying, “You can eat anything you want. I promise I’m not judging you. It’s not like I ordered the diet plate.”