Murder of a Cranky Catnapper (10 page)

“Besides, nothing is more important than you.” Wally traced a finger down her cheek. “You seemed a little shaken up after everything this morning and I wanted to make sure you had a decent meal.”

“That is so sweet, but I'm fine—starving and in dire need of a ladies' room—but otherwise fine.” Skye grabbed his hand and kissed his palm. “Although I am glad we can have an uninterrupted conversation because it seems like there are so many pieces to this puzzle and I don't want to forget to tell you anything.”

“Hold on to that thought.” Wally turned into the restaurant lot, parked the car, and got out to open Skye's door. “Let's find you the bathroom first.”

After the pause that refreshes, Skye located Wally in a corner booth. He was sipping a glass of iced tea, and there was a Diet Coke with a lime wedge waiting for her. She slid onto the bench and took a long drink, then, her stomach growling, she grabbed the menu sitting on the tabletop and scanned the selections.

Once they'd placed their orders, Skye finally looked around the restaurant. It was bright and cheerful with a wall of windows facing the street. The décor was modern,
but welcoming, and the air smelled of oregano, garlic, and melting cheese.

Skye sighed in contentment. A yummy lunch with her handsome husband was a real luxury. If she were at school, she'd be lucky to grab a sandwich between meetings. She felt a twinge of remorse, knowing she wouldn't be enjoying this treat if Palmer Lynch were still alive.

To assuage her guilt, Skye was determined to work on finding his killer. She might not have liked the man, but she'd do her best to get him justice.

With that in mind, she asked, “Did the crime scene techs find anything interesting?”

“Lynch had a concealed closet full of fetish gear.” Wally tilted his head and quirked his lips. “You know what that is, right?”

“Of course I do. I'm not that naïve. I had a very enlightening class on human sexuality in graduate school.” Skye's cheeks turned pink. “One of our assigned readings was
The Story of O
.”

“My criminal justice courses didn't include that book.” Wally winked. “Should I pick up a copy?”

“Absolutely not!” Skye choked on the sip of water she'd just taken.

“Just checking.” Still chuckling, Wally asked, “Was Lynch's mother aware of his tastes?”

“To a certain extent.” Skye paused as the server put a basket of warm bread on the table. “She found some magazines when she was cleaning his house.”

“Did they discuss it?” Wally asked, tearing off a piece of the loaf.

“No. In fact, she regrets not confronting him.” Skye broke off her own slice.

“Between the kinky sex, the drugs, the catnapping, and everything he was promising for the school board president election, Lynch was a man with a lot of secrets.”
Wally dragged the bread through the dish of olive oil and popped it into his mouth.

“I wonder which one got him killed?” Skye asked, then frowned and added, “And with all of Palmer's secrets about to become public, let's hope no one else is in danger.”

Women and cats will do as they please, and men and dogs should relax and get used to the idea.

—ROBERT A. HEINLEIN

“G
ood point. Any time secrets get revealed, people get hurt.” Wally licked the oil off his fingers. “Any guess which one of Lynch's secrets caused his murder?”

“Well, since he was naked, I'd go with sex as a motive first.” She hesitated, then said, “Which means Virginia is the . . .”

Noticing that their server was approaching, Skye paused as the woman placed their lunches in front of them. After asking if they needed anything else and acknowledging their refusal, she left them to their meal.

Immediately, Skye bit into her veggie panini and moaned. The roasted peppers, mushrooms, red onions, lettuce, tomato, and provolone cheese tasted heavenly. Either the chef was really good or she was really hungry. Probably both.

Wally watched her in amusement, then sampled his rib-eye steak sandwich. A Texas native, he was a carnivore, and he often told Skye that he liked vegetables—in their place on the side of his plate.

“I was thinking along those lines too,” Wally said
after he swallowed. “So tell me about the girlfriend. You mentioned that you work with her.”

“Virginia teaches fourth grade. She has three of the boys in my counseling group in her class. So after the initial pet therapy session started out so badly, I talked to her to make sure the kids were okay. That's when she mentioned dating Palmer.”

“Is she divorced, widowed, or never married?” Wally asked.

“Divorced.” Skye sampled her French fries and nearly swooned at the salty goodness.

“How long had she and Lynch been seeing each other?” Wally asked.

“I'm not sure.” Skye wrinkled her brow, thinking. “Mrs. Lynch said that her son divorced his wife a little over a year ago, and Virginia was his first serious relationship after he and his ex went their separate ways.”

“If Virginia told you last Monday they were going out, their breakup was less than a week ago.” Wally ate half of his baked potato before he said, “We need to know what caused her to end things.”

“Definitely.” Skye finished her Panini. “I really like her, but sadly, Virginia is our most likely suspect.” Skye brightened. “Unless, after she dumped him, Palmer hooked up with someone else.”

“At the very least, Virginia should be able to tell us about his alternative lifestyle.” Wally polished off the last of his sandwich.

“Speaking of that, was there anything odd in the garage?” Skye pushed her empty plate away. “Anything to explain why Belle attacked the tech?”

“Not really.” Wally signaled the server and asked for the dessert menus. Once they were delivered and the waitress walked to another table, he said, “The usual. His car, a lawn mower, a snowmobile, a motorcycle, a boat—”

“Wow. Palmer really liked his toys. He must have been pretty well off.” Skye scanned the list of tempting treats. “Or in a lot of debt.”

“Good point.” Wally took out his note pad and jotted something down. “We need to get a warrant to look at his financial situation.”

“But nothing in the garage to give us an idea about the cat's behavior?” Skye asked.

Before Wally could answer, the server returned. Skye had intended to skip dessert, but she caved in and asked for the fudge cake. She'd do a few extra laps at the pool the next morning. After all, chocolate was plainly God's way of saying he liked her a little curvy. And she didn't want Juniorette to feel deprived.

Once the waitress left, Wally said, “We found a cage. It had food and water, but no litter box. Judging from Bingo's fastidiousness, my guess is that Belle refused to pee where she slept—it was a fairly small pen—so she managed to somehow open the latch.”

“I wonder if she thought that the crime tech was the person who locked her up and she was defending herself,” Skye mused. “From what I've seen during the therapy sessions, Belle seems pretty darn smart.”

“Beats me.” Wally smiled at the server as she brought his tiramisu. He waited until she poured coffee for each of them—decaf for Skye—and left, then said, “Probably a mystery we'll never solve.”

“Too bad cats can't talk,” Skye mumbled around a mouthful of fudgy bliss.

“If they could, Bell might be our prime witness.” Wally grinned at her obvious pleasure in the cake. “But since she's refusing to cooperate, let's figure out who else we need to interrogate.”

“Besides Virginia”—Skye put down her fork and held up a finger—“Dr. Wraige and Pru Cormorant.” Skye summarized the conversation she'd heard after
church between the school superintendent and the English teacher, concluding with the statement that Dr. Wraige had promised to keep an eye on Palmer and handle him if he became a problem. “We need to know what the issue was and why Pru thought they couldn't trust him.”

“Absolutely.” Wally sipped his coffee. “You mentioned overhearing others that were beginning to catch on that Lynch might be making a lot of promises he wouldn't be able to keep. Any names?”

“Tony Zello and Nate Turner.” Skye stirred sweetener and cream into her decaf. “And a deacon named Joel. I can't recall his last name.”

Wally made a note, then took Skye's hand and said, “You know that I'll have to talk to Charlie.” She winced and he stroked her palm. “He and Lynch were in a very public battle for control of the school board. There's no way I can avoid questioning him.”

“I understand.” Skye blew out a breath. “Let's just pray he has an alibi.”

“That late at night, most people won't,” Wally warned gently.

“Our only hope is that he had one of his many girlfriends sleep over.”

“That'll be awkward.” Wally's lips twitched. “Probably not an interview you want to sit in on.” Sobering, he added, “Anyone else we need to consider as a suspect? You said Lynch and the grade school principal had words over the pet therapy.”

“If you think Caroline Greer might be a suspect due to that incident, you'd have to add me to that list.” Skye raised a brow as she sipped her coffee.

“Don't worry, darlin'. You have the best alibi of anyone.” Wally leered playfully. “You were in bed with the chief of police.”

“Lucky me.” Skye smiled widely. “Still, Caroline
should be at the bottom of our list. She didn't seem very threatened by Palmer.”

“I trust your instincts.” Wally nodded, then asked, “Anyone else?”

“I hate to say it, but Dr. Quillen.” Skye bit her lip. “If he figured out that Palmer was the catnapper, he might have done something rash. Dr. Q loves his animals and would be incensed if one was mistreated.” She perked up. “But he wouldn't have left Belle in the garage.”

“If he knew she was there.” Wally ate the last bite of tiramisu and crossed his arms. “I'm definitely having a conversation with him.”

“Hmm.” Skye pressed her fork into the chocolate crumbs on her plate and licked the tines. “How about Palmer's ex-wife? According to his own mother, he dumped Felicia because she was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. I'd sure as hell be furious if you divorced me because of an illness that I had no control over.”

“Which I would never do,” Wally assured her, leaning across the table to press a soft kiss to her lips. “Until death do us part.”

“I know.” Skye kissed him back. “How about his employees? He owned a string of shops in several of the surrounding small towns.”

“The Dollar or Three stores,” Wally confirmed, signaling the server for their check. “There are four or five of them, right?”

“Let's see.” Skye closed her eyes. “They're in Scumble River, Clay Center, Brooklyn, and . . . I think there's one more location.”

“I'll have Martinez check it out.” Wally dug his wallet out of his back pocket. “Do you need to use the bathroom again before we go?”

Although Skye wanted to snap at Wally for treating her like a child, she forced herself to smile sweetly at him. “Probably a good idea.” Because, in fact, she really
should empty her bladder in case something came up on the way home.

The fifteen-minute ride could easily turn into something a lot longer. It would be so embarrassing to have an accident while in hot pursuit of a possible murderer.

After availing herself to the facilities, Skye found Wally waiting for her at the restaurant's entrance. He escorted her to the cruiser, opened her door, and helped her inside. They were both silent, lost in their own thoughts, as he drove her to the school to pick up her car.

It was only after he kissed her good-bye and she headed the Bel Air toward home that she realized that they hadn't discussed the ketamine. If Palmer was indeed the catnapper, what was his interest in the drug?

Skye was still contemplating why a man like Lynch would want to secure a large amount of ketamine, when she turned into her driveway and swore. A large white car was parked in front of the sidewalk leading up to her porch. The only one in town who drove an Oldsmobile Eighty-Eight was Skye's mother. What was May doing there?

Instead of following her first impulse, which was to throw the Bel Air into reverse, Skye blew out a breath and pulled into the garage. Gathering up her belongings, Skye trudged toward the house. She slowly climbed the stairs and tried the knob, not surprised that it turned without having to use her key. May wasn't a fan of locked doors.

As she stepped inside, Skye's nose twitched at the distinctive odor wafting down the hallway. Her mother loved to clean so much that Skye and her brother joked that if May had Windex in her hand, it was best to keep a safe distance or you might find yourself covered in the blue liquid.

Dropping her purse and tote on the hall bench, Skye followed the smell into the sunroom. May was
concentrating so hard on the window she was polishing, she didn't see Skye at first, but when she did, she put down the bottle and rags and hurried toward her.

“Are you okay? Is my grandchild okay? Where have you been?” May demanded, grabbing her daughter's arms and gently shaking her. “Roy said that you drove Mrs. Lynch home a couple of hours ago.”

“I'm fine. The baby's fine. We're all fine.” Skye was getting tired of reassuring everyone about her and Juniorette's well-being. She eased out of her mother's grasp. “When Wally picked me up, he suggested we go to the new restaurant in Clay Center.”

“You went to lunch during a murder investigation?” May's tone was doubtful.

“Yes.” Skye shrugged. “I hadn't had anything since breakfast and I needed to eat.”

“What's wrong with the Feed Bag here in town? Or McDonald's?”

Suspicion glimmered in May's emerald green eyes. She patted her short salt-and-pepper hair and tilted her head, examining Skye.

“I'm trying to cut back on fast food and we've been to the Feed Bag so many times I have the menu memorized.” Skye shrugged. “Wally just wanted to treat me to a nice meal after I spent my morning with a dead body.”

“Wally doesn't generally go off to have a leisurely lunch a few hours after a murder has been committed.” May fingered the crease in her perfectly ironed tan capris. “Did you two have a fight?”

“No! Why the heck would you assume that?” Skye was tired, and between the day's events and May's hovering, her temper flared. “I'm married to a wonderful guy that I love more than life itself. I'm pregnant with our first child. We both are gainfully employed with little or no debt. What do I need to do to prove to you
that I'm a successful adult? What more do you want from me, Mom?”

“How can you talk to me like that?” May sniffed, then clutched her chest. “It just seemed odd that you two would leave town.”

“We wanted a few minutes of peace.” Skye ignored her mother's nonverbal threat of a heart attack. During Skye's teenage years, May had often claimed she couldn't breathe and was having a coronary whenever Skye or her brother did something that displeased her. “Is that too much to ask?”

Skye patted her baby bump and pasted a sad look on her face. Now that she was carrying May's grandchild, two could play the guilt game.

“No. Of course not.” May nudged her daughter toward the sofa. “Why don't you sit down and I'll go get you a glass of water.”

“Milk would be better.” Skye hid her smile at May's about-face.

“I brought some of the lemon bars that I baked yesterday.” May hurried away. “I know they're your favorite. I'll put a couple of those on a plate for you, too.”

“No, thank you. I already had dessert,” Skye called after her mother.

But either May didn't hear her or chose to ignore Skye's words because, a few minutes later, May returned with Skye's snack. She placed it on the coffee table and took a seat next to her daughter.

“When I got off of work, I went to see Dorothy.” May reached for a cookie. “She told me all about finding Palmer Lynch dead.”

“What did she say?” Skye asked carefully, unsure of how much Dorothy had revealed and not wanting to add to what May already knew.

“That she arrived early so that she'd have time to clean for you.” May shot Skye an accusing glance and
muttered, “I don't know why you don't just let me do your house instead of hiring someone.”

“What else did Dorothy tell you?” Skye ignored her mother, who had been repeating that same sentiment since Wally announced that he was bringing his cleaning lady with him into the marriage.

“The back door was open, and when she went to get the sheets to wash, she found Palmer in bed dead so she called you,” May reported.

“Is that all?” Skye crossed her fingers that Dorothy had kept to herself the fact that Palmer was nude and tied up.

“That's all Dorothy said.” May's eyes narrowed. “What else is there?”