Murder of a Cranky Catnapper (12 page)

After successfully defending Skye's brother, Loretta and Vince had fallen in love. Then, much to Skye's amazement, since her sister-in-law was a born-and-bred Chicago girl, Loretta agreed to live in Scumble River.

Lucky for everyone, a lot of Loretta's job as an attorney could be done electronically and she only had to go into the city for client meetings and trials. Now that she'd been off work for almost five months, Skye wondered if her sister-in-law would have trouble returning to her demanding job.

Then again, Loretta did thrive on stress. She'd been immersed in designing and building a new house almost until she gave birth. Prior to deciding to build, she and Vince had made an exhaustive search for the ideal home, but nothing had been quite right.

Skye hadn't been shocked by their decision. Loretta wasn't the type to be satisfied with anything less than perfection, and Vince had already proven that he'd move heaven and earth to fulfill his new wife's every wish. For a man who had an Olympic gold medal in dating, he was an astonishingly devoted husband.

When Vince and Loretta decided to build, his and Skye's parents had deeded a couple of acres from the land they farmed to their son and new daughter-in-law. The only drawback was the property's location. Because it was so close to May and Jed's place, May found numerous excuses to drop by and Loretta was not amused.

As Skye turned down the long lane leading to the house, she tried to visualize what the oaks, pecans, and hickories interspersed with redbuds, hawthorns, pawpaws, yellowwoods, and crab apples that had been planted a few months ago would look like once they matured. When they were grown to their full size, the tree allée would make an elegant entrance to the spectacular home.

Skye parked along the circular driveway—praying her car didn't leave an oil stain or any other kind of mark on the still pristine concrete pavers. She strolled up the cobblestone walkway leading to the double mahogany doors, rang the bell, and smiled when she heard the percussion solo from Iron Butterfly's “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida.”

Vince had won the argument for the programmable doorbell's musical selection. In order to be home on weekends, he might have stopped performing with his band, the Plastic Santas, but he would always be a drummer at heart.

Several seconds went by, and Skye was considering pushing the button again when Loretta flung open the door and said, “I suppose you'll take his side.”

“His side being Vince's?” Skye asked cautiously. What had she interrupted?

Loretta nodded, yanked Skye over the threshold, and said, “That SOB got me pregnant again and he's thrilled.”

Cats don't like change without their consent.

—ROGER CARAS

S
kye heard Vince's victory shouts coming from upstairs. She hid a smile at his obvious excitement. It was hard to believe a guy who rarely dated the same woman twice was so ecstatic at the news that he was going to be a father a second time.

Keeping her expression neutral, Skye took her sister-in-law's hand and gave it a comforting squeeze, then questioned, “You're not pleased?”

“No. Yes. Hell, I don't know.” Loretta jerked her fingers from Skye. “I finally lost all the baby weight and April is just starting to sleep through the night and I have to go back to work and . . .”

“And your perfectly scheduled life is messed up?” Skye suggested. “Believe me”—she glanced down at her stomach—“I understand.”

“But no one expects you to fit into a size 6 designer suit,” Loretta snapped, then put her hand over her mouth and said, “Sorry.” Her shoulders slumped. “You know what I meant.”

Skye nodded. Her sister-in-law was always perfectly put together. Loretta was six feet tall with a lean-muscled body, gorgeous creamy dark brown skin, and
impeccably coiffed shiny black hair that never had a strand out of place. Skye had rarely seen her friend look anything but ready to walk a runway during fashion week in New York.

“I take it you just found out? Like only a few seconds ago?” Skye asked warily. When Loretta nodded, Skye offered, “Maybe I should leave, so you and Vince can discuss this in private.”

“No!” Loretta yelped, grabbing Skye's arm and tugging her through the foyer and the family room and into the kitchen, complaining as they walked, “I'm not ready to talk to Mr. We-Don't-Need-to-Use-a-Rubber.”

“Too much information.” Skye clapped her hands over her ears. Then seconds later, she negated her statement and said, “I thought the doctor let you go back on the pill a few months ago.”

“It decreased my milk and made April fussy so I had to stop.”

“And you still let Vince talk you into doing it without protection?” Skye figured she already knew way too much about their sex life, so what the heck? “You do realize that condoms should be used on every conceivable occasion?” Skye punned.

Loretta snickered, then said, “Vince is very persuasive.” She refused to meet Skye's gaze.

“But you're a lawy—”

“I don't want to discuss it right now.” Loretta stalked over to the gleaming stainless steel refrigerator, yanked open the double doors, and peered at the glass shelves. “Yes!” She pumped her fist in the air twice, reached inside, and emerged with a Boston cream pie.

“What are you going to do with that?” Skye asked, eyeing the confection as if it were about to leap off the serving plate and into her mouth.

“Eat it.” Loretta plunked the dish in front of Skye,
opened a drawer, and pulled out a fork. Just before she dug in, she asked, “You want some?”

“No, thanks.” Skye licked her lips. Between her cake at lunch and the lemon bars with her milk, her dessert account was already overdrawn.

As Loretta shoved a huge bite into her mouth, Skye gazed around the mammoth room, counting three sinks, two dishwashers, and a refrigerated wine rack. The kitchen was probably better equipped than a lot of restaurants. You could feed the entire Leofanti and Denison clans combined in it.

Taking a breather from stuffing her face, Loretta eased onto the stool across from Skye and ordered, “Tell me how you're doing.”

“Well . . .” Skye had wanted to discuss her pregnancy concerns with Loretta, but now didn't seem like the best time to bring up that subject.

“How's school going?” Loretta used her fingers to dig out a scoop of custard.

“Busy.” Skye folded her hands over her stomach. “The end of the year is hectic.”

“How much longer do you have?” Loretta sucked the cream from her thumb.

“The kids have a little over three weeks left.” Skye shrugged. “I'll probably be working awhile after that.”

“Why?” Loretta got up and tossed the decimated pastry into the trash, then opened the freezer and started rummaging inside it.

“I need to have everything ready for the intern.” Skye wondered what was next on her sister-in-law's menu. “I might not be in too good a shape in September.”

“Right.” Loretta plopped back on the stool holding a carton of Blue Bunny and a serving spoon. “You'll be close to popping out the kid.”

“Don't tell anyone, especially Mom, but that may be nearer than we first thought.” Skye watched her friend
devour the birthday cake–flavored ice cream. “At my last checkup my obstetrician said that I might be further than along than the first calculations indicated. When I see the doctor later this week, I should know for sure.”

“Is May driving you crazy?” Loretta selected a confetti-shaped candy from the container and popped it into her mouth.

“No more than usual.” Skye leaned her elbows on the granite counter. “Although today she dropped over and washed all the sunroom windows.”

“Well, she nearly drove me insane, both when we were building the house and when she found out about the baby.” Loretta worked the edge of her spoon under a ribbon of blue frosting. “I thought I would have to get an unlisted number and a guard dog to have any privacy.”

“Mom actually had a sort of good reason for being at the house today,” Skye confessed. “Her friend Dorothy Snyder, you know the woman who cleans for us”—when Loretta nodded, Skye continued—“found a dead guy and called me to come help her with him.”

“What in the hell did Dorothy want you to do?” Loretta seemed so shocked she actually put down her spoon and pushed away the carton of ice cream. “Help her dig a grave and bury the body?”

Before Skye could come up with an acceptable answer that didn't involve the words
bondage
or
stark naked
, Vince strolled into the kitchen and opened the fridge. His butterscotch blond hair brushed the collar of his bright blue polo shirt as he bopped his head to the beat of whatever he was listening to through his earbuds.

Loretta's mouth tightened as she glared at her husband's back. Unaware of his wife's ire, Vince selected an apple, bit into it, and turned around. He seemed somewhat startled to see the two women watching him. Although how he had missed them, even in such a gargantuan kitchen, was beyond Skye. Then again,
her brother didn't just march to a different drummer, he composed the music.

Yanking out his earbuds, he smiled and said, “Skye, when did you get here?”

“During your happy dance.” Skye glanced uneasily at Loretta, but stood up and hugged Vince, then bravely said, “Congratulations. I hear April is going to have a little brother or sister.”

“Thanks, sis.” Vince squeezed her so hard Skye gasped for breath and pushed out of his embrace. Proving he wasn't totally oblivious, he snuck a peek at his wife, then beamed. “We didn't exactly plan this, but I couldn't be happier. I'd love a houseful of kids.”

Skye would have sworn she heard Loretta growl, but when she turned toward her sister-in-law, Loretta's expression was Madonna-like. Vince moved over to his wife and wrapped his arms around her. Fascinated, Skye watched Loretta melt into her husband's chest.

But a split second later, Loretta pushed Vince away and said, “We are not having a houseful of kids.” She pointed to her stomach. “This is it. Two and done.”

“Now, honey,” Vince massaged Loretta's shoulders, “don't be silly.”

“Silly!” Loretta roared, whirling to face him. “Don't tell me not to be”—she used her fingers to make quotation marks in the air—“silly. You aren't the one that blows up like a balloon in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade.” She pushed up her considerable cleavage. “You aren't the one who feels like Elsie the Cow every time you pump breast milk.” She poked him in his washboard abs. “And you aren't the one that's going to be trying to juggle a cutthroat career with less sleep than I got in law school.”

“Sweetheart, you know you don't have to do all that by yourself.” Vince took his wife's hand, but she wrenched it from his grasp.

“Really, Vincent?” Loretta's voice was deceptively
mild and Skye cringed. “Are you going to carry the baby? Are you going to breastfeed?”

“I can't do that, sweetie, but I will get up during the night with the baby.” He once again put his arms around his wife.

Loretta started to lean against Vince, then stiffened and went very still. “No.” She narrowed her eyes and said, “What you will do is practice safe sex. Go screw yourself.”

“Now, baby—”

Loretta interrupted her husband. “Or you can have a vasectomy.”

Skye watched as Vince jumped back and instinctively covered his crotch. He gazed at his wife as if she might grab a butcher knife and perform the operation right there on their gleaming granite counter.

Slowly backing away, he held up his hands and said, “Let's not do anything rash.”

“You mean like have sex without a rubber?” Loretta arched a brow.

“Hey.” Vince lifted a shoulder, a grin quirking up his lips. “You forgot to pick up a new box of Trojans when you were in Kankakee shopping and we were a little too far along to stop and run to the drugstore.”

“Seriously?” Loretta advanced on her husband. “This is my fault?”

“It's no one's fault.” Vince waited until his wife was in reach, pressed her against him, and murmured into her ear, “It's a blessing.”

After a long and intense kiss, which seemed to take the fight right out of Loretta, Vince lifted his face and winked at Skye over his wife's head, then asked, “What are you two talking about?”

Loretta straightened. Her anger appeared to have been temporarily vanquished by her husband's attentions and she said, “Skye was telling me about the—”

Skye quickly said, “Just girl talk.” She patted her baby bump to emphasize her answer. “Nothing you need or want to hear.”

“Sure.” Vince's green eyes held a degree of calculation that Skye hadn't often seen in them. “Then I'll leave you ladies alone.”

After Vince disappeared down the hall, Loretta cleaned up the debris of her food orgy and, her mood lightened, said, “Come look at all the new stuff I got for the house since the last time you were here.”

“Okay.” Skye stood and followed her sister-in-law into the family room.

“What do you think?” Loretta swept her arm around the enormous room featuring a wet bar at one end and a fireplace at the other.

“Nice.” Skye wasn't sure what exactly had been added, but wasn't about to say so.

“Wait until you see the bedspread in the master suite,” Loretta announced, seeming not to notice Skye's lack of specific praise.

They made their way to the opposite end of the house, where the master suite took up the entire west side. In addition to a gorgeous bedroom with French doors leading to a patio and an in-ground pool, there was a huge bathroom and double walk-in closets that shared a dressing area. Each time she saw it, Skye was stunned by the lavishness of the suite.

Loretta may be a partner in a prestigious law firm, but just how much money did attorneys make? Vince certainly couldn't afford anything half as luxurious as this on the income from his salon. Even with the free land and all the family connections for cheap labor, the house had to have cost them close to a million, maybe twice that amount.

Granted, they probably had an enormous mortgage, but how had they qualified for such a big loan? Loretta's
salary had to be gargantuan. No wonder she was worried about being pregnant again. Even if her interests had strayed from her high-powered career, there was probably no way she could cut back on her billable hours and keep up this lifestyle.

Would she ever consider opening a much less glamorous practice in Scumble River? Could she and Vince afford for her to do so?

Once Loretta had shown Skye the new oriental rugs and curtains in the three upstairs bedrooms, one of which was Vince's music studio, they ended up back on the main floor near the master bedroom, admiring the nursery.

The subtle mushroom-and-ecru color scheme, the soft fawn carpet, the draperies tied back with heavy tassels to give the curtains a scalloped look, and the one-of-a-kind cherub chandelier were striking. Skye felt a twinge of guilt. She hadn't even thought of how she would decorate her baby's room yet.

Gazing at April, who was sleeping like an angel in the elegant iron scrollwork crib, Skye tried to picture her child. It wasn't surprising that Vince and Loretta had produced a beautiful baby. April had a flawless caramel complexion, her mother's dark ringlets, and her father's emerald eyes surrounded by lush dark lashes.

Wally was handsome, but Skye knew that she was only passably pretty. How would her son or daughter compete with his or her dazzling cousin? Would he or she feel cheated?

No!
Skye would make sure that her child had the self-confidence to understand that no one should allow themselves to be judged by their appearance.

Skye forced a smile, complimented Loretta on the baby's exquisiteness, and said, “I ought to get going.” She glanced at her watch. “Wally will be home any minute, and you probably want to start supper.”

“It's Vince's turn to microwave our dinner tonight.”
Loretta led Skye into the foyer, but didn't open the door. “Before you leave, tell me why Dorothy called you when she found the dead guy.”

“Well . . .” Skye knew she shouldn't, but she looked her friend in the eye and said, “You have to swear not to tell a soul.”

“I swear.”

“No. I can't.” Skye shook her head. “Wally would kill me, and rightly so, if I was the reason this information leaked out.”

“Give me a dollar.” Loretta held out her palm. “Once I'm your attorney, I can't break confidentiality. Everything you say is privileged.”