Murder of a Cranky Catnapper (14 page)

Skye bit her tongue. The superintendent might not be a complete male chauvinist pig, but he certainly had his share of swine empathy.

When she kept quiet, Dr. Wraige's mouth rose in a self-satisfied smirk and he continued, “I just had an interesting visit from your husband.”

“Oh?” Skye's heart skipped a beat. Why hadn't she asked Wally to warn her before talking to the superintendent? “About Mr. Lynch's murder?”

“No, about the price of hamburger at Walter's Supermarket,” Dr. Wraige snapped. “Of course it was about Palmer Lynch's murder.”

“Was he notifying you because Mr. Lynch was a member of the school board?” Skye decided this was a darn good time to play dumb. She was sure Wally wouldn't have identified her as the stool pigeon who overheard the superintendent's exchange with Pru.

“Yes.” Dr. Wraige tilted his head as if assessing Skye's true knowledge of the situation. “But while Chief Boyd was there, he mentioned a discussion I supposedly took part in with Ms. Cormorant.”

“Someone lied about a conversation?” Skye strove to keep her expression neutral, then shrugged and said, “Unfortunately, I'm not surprised. Scumble River seems to run on gossip in the same way most cars run on fossil fuel. Too bad, unlike crude oil, there appears to be an unending supply of rumors and insinuations.”

“Then you don't know anything about this alleged chat?” Dr. Wraige inched closer and Skye scooted back
in the chair. “I thought I saw you at church on Sunday. Did you notice anyone eavesdropping on me?”

“So you did talk to Pru?” Skye injected a note of innocence into her voice.

“We may have chatted briefly after Mass.” Dr. Wraige's face flushed. “But we certainly didn't conspire to kill Palmer Lynch.”

“Is that what the police were told?” Skye asked, knowing it wasn't.

“It was implied.” Dr. Wraige abruptly straightened and strode toward the door. He paused with his hand on the knob and said to Homer, “I hope you'll warn your staff that scandalmongering can be very damaging to careers.”

Once the superintendent disappeared, Homer slapped down the file he'd been leafing through and snarled, “Why the hell do you keep finding bodies?”

Homer's short stature and very round shape reminded Skye of an extremely hairy beach ball.

“I didn't,” Skye protested. “I arrived afterward.”

“You're still involved.”

“Of course I am.” Skye crossed her arms. “As you well know, I'm the police psych consultant.” She winked. “And I sleep with the chief.”

“Don't be a wise guy with me.”

“I'm not trying to be.” Skye cringed at his expression and vowed to keep her mouth shut. She had to remember that Homer had no sense of humor and his skylight was a little leaky.

“Then stop it.”

“Okay.” Skye felt as if she were starring in
Groundhog Day, Part Two
. She and Homer had had this conversation before. Actually several times.

“Okay?” The hair growing out of the principal's ears bristled. “Like I'm going to believe you'll follow my orders for once?”

“I've never purposely disobeyed your instructions,” Skye protested. “But sometimes what you tell me to do is illegal or immoral or both.”

“The others don't have a problem with the way I run this school.” Homer's face turned a mottled red. “Just shut your mouth and do what I tell you.”

“I'm afraid I can't agree to that.” Skye refused to let someone who not only resembled Chewbacca but probably had a lower IQ than the Wookie, interfere with the ethical performance of her profession. “If your directives aren't within best practices, I won't follow them.”

Homer stood, knocking over his chair, and pointed to the door. “Quit causing waves and quit interfering.”

Skye turned to escape, but Homer yelled, “Wait! I forgot. You need to talk to Pru Cormorant ASAP. Dr. Wraige is concerned that she might be upset from your husband's interrogation. And we all know a disturbed Pru is not something that we can ignore.” He winked. “Especially now that she's going through the change. There's no telling what kind of mood she'll be in.”

“Women going through menopause are not moody,” Skye corrected him. “There are merely some times that they are less disposed to put up with men's nonsense.”

“Whatever.” Homer snorted. “Just go talk to her.”

Skye cowered. “Why me?” The English teacher had been at Scumble River High nearly as long as Homer. She was a law unto herself and she didn't like Skye.

“Because you are the freaking psychologist.” Homer harrumphed. “If you're going to throw around words like
ethics
and
morals
, you need to be prepared to practice what you preach, Mrs. La-di-dah Denison-Boyd.”

Shoot!
He was right. Skye mutely walked out of Homer's office, checked the master schedule, and headed to Pru's classroom. Was this what it felt like marching to the guillotine?

Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.

—ENGLISH PROVERB

A
s Skye trudged down the hallway, she rubbed her forehead. Pru Cormorant had the current period free, which gave Skye seventeen minutes to smooth the irritating teacher's ruffled feathers. By the time the next bell rang, the distasteful task would be over and Skye could get back to her real duties. The ones that actually involved helping the students.

“Corny,” as most of the staff called her behind her back, had one of the best classrooms in the building. It had actual walls instead of folding accordion partitions, windows, and even an exterior door. Because of this, it was a well-known fact that if the weather was nice, Pru usually spent her planning periods on a lawn chair outside her room tanning.

True to form, Skye found the aggravating English teacher stretched out on a chaise lounge with a magazine covering her face. Skye took a moment to study her. Corny's gaunt limbs stuck out at awkward angles from her egg-shaped body, and her too-small head appeared in danger of tumbling off her neck if she made any sudden moves. She looked a lot like the stick figures that
six-year-olds produced when Skye asked them to complete the Draw-a-Person test. One with alligator-like skin after all her years chasing the perfect shade of bronze.

Clearing her throat, Skye said, “Hi. Are you enjoying the sunshine?”

“Yes, I'm so glad that it isn't too hot to lie out today.” Pru's watery blue eyes were malicious. “Are you aware that my room is one of only three with an exterior exit? Only the most valued faculty members are assigned these premier spaces. Your office doesn't have a door to the outside, does it, dear?”

Skye bit the inside of her cheek, then forced a pleasant expression on her face and said, “No, it doesn't.”

They'd had this conversation before and it took all her self-control to refrain from retorting that
she
was too busy to care about the amenities.
Heck!
She was lucky to have an office to herself, let alone any extras.

“I don't see
you
very often.” Pru raised an overplucked eyebrow.

“I guess not.” Skye pasted a fake smile on her lips. “I don't get to the teachers' lounge much, at least not at lunchtime, and since you don't have any of the children on my caseload in your classes, there isn't much of a reason for me to stop by here.”

“The students you deal with aren't able to cope with the high-level subjects that I teach.” Pru pursed her thin lips. “Not too long ago, one of yours was mistakenly put into my class. But then he told me that the word
trouser
was an uncommon noun because it's singular at the waist and I had him transferred.” She tsked. “When I started at Scumble River High School, those children would have been in a separate facility.”

Skye dug her nails into her palms to stop herself from asking what it was like to teach during the Revolutionary War, and instead said, “That was a different
era in education and thankfully we've moved past that kind of thinking.”

“That's a matter of opinion.” Pru patted her stringy dun-colored hair. “We need to stop coddling these students and their helicopter parents. No Child Left Behind is a travesty. Anyone with the slightest knowledge of the bell curve knows the largest portion of students will be average, then there's going to be a certain amount who are gifted, and sadly, there are going to be an equal amount who are as dumb as the deposit my dog made on the lawn this morning. The sooner everyone accepts that not every youngster is going to Yale or even finish twelfth grade, the better.”

“I disagree.” Skye had been letting Corny ramble, having heard her opinion on the subject before, but it was time to put the brakes on her rant. “While No Child Left Behind certainly needs some serious revisions, there isn't a single reason in the world for anyone to drop out.”

“Piffle.” Pru waved her skeleton-like hand. “Like I always say,
Cogito
eggo
sum
.”

“I think therefore I waffle?” Had Skye heard Corny right?

Skye couldn't help snickering. The haughty teacher considered herself an intellectual, but was prone to misquote well-known sayings.

Ignoring Skye's sarcastic question, Pru said, “If you aren't here to discuss one of your little darlings—and you'd better not suggest I add any of them to my roll—why are you here?” She lasered a look at Skye's stomach. “Perhaps you're seeking some parenting advice.”

Are you out of your freaking mind?
Skye barely swallowed the words. When she was sure she could control herself, she said, “Actually, Homer asked me to stop by. Dr. Wraige mentioned to him that he was
concerned you might be upset about some of my husband's questions.”

“And of course, Homer is afraid to speak to me himself.” Pru's mean smile was filled with satisfaction. “That man should retire before he has an aneurysm.”

“He does turn an alarming shade of magenta,” Skye murmured, for once agreeing with Pru's sentiments. “It can't be good for him.”

“Heliotrope,” Pru corrected. “His color is closer to heliotrope.”

“I'm sure you're right.” Skye wasn't about to stand around arguing the finer points of Homer's apoplectic complexion. “So then you're not upset about Wally's conversation with you this morning before school?”

“I understand my duty as a good citizen.” Pru's tone was completely insincere, then she added, “But your husband didn't have to be so rude.”

“Hmm.” Skye attempted to be conciliatory. “I'm certain he didn't mean to be. Sometimes, especially with a murder investigation, there's no nice way of proceeding.”

“Nonsense.” Pru levered the back of the lounger until she was sitting upright. “You and your spouse both enjoy poking your noses in other people's personal business entirely too much. It's vulgar.” She shuddered. “And to top it off, Chief Boyd threatened me.”

“Come again?” Skye's pulse raced. Pru had seemed okay when she arrived, but now she was agitated. Why hadn't Skye left after saying hi?

“Your husband warned me that if I didn't reveal what Shamus and I were referring to in our discussion Sunday after church, we would be continuing our interview at the police station. And he might even charge me with obstructing an investigation.” Pru's voice rose. “I had to tell the chief things I promised never to reveal.”

“That must have been scary,” Skye murmured.

She wasn't sure if Wally truly could arrest Pru, but if he couldn't, clearly to the self-centered teacher, the threat had been enough. Pru always put her own best interests first. Anyone who trusted her to do differently was a fool.

“It was extremely frightening.” Pru nodded regally. “Thank you for your understanding.” She looked at Skye through her sparse lashes, and demanded, “I suppose you want to know what I disclosed.”

“Only if it would be helpful to you in dealing with what happened.” Skye couldn't believe her luck. Wally would share the information, but it was so much better to hear it from the source.

“Don't think I don't know that your husband will tell you anyway,” Pru sneered. “This way, he won't be able to twist what I said.”

“Wally will only share pertinent facts in my capacity as the police psych consultant,” Skye assured her. “And I will keep whatever I hear to myself if it doesn't concern Mr. Lynch's death.”

“Fine.” Pru glanced at her watch and frowned. “My seventh period class will be here in five minutes, so I won't beat around the bush.”

“That's probably best.” Skye couldn't figure out why the woman was so intent on divulging information to her that Corny had resented telling Wally—probably to twist the facts and make herself look good—but far be it from Skye to stop her. “Whenever you're ready, please go ahead.”

“Shamus's mother and my father were second cousins,” Pru announced.

“I didn't know that,” Skye said. So Pru and Dr. Wraige were related. That explained a lot. “Do you have other family in the area?”

“No.” Pru's pointy nose twitched, making her look
like a possum hunting for a tasty tidbit. “And because my mother died when I was six, Shamus's mom watched me while my father was at work. We were essentially raised like brother and sister.”

“I understand.”

“Which is why I'm so apprehensive for him.” Pru nibbled a ragged cuticle, sighed, and blurted out, “He and Palmer shared a certain . . .
proclivity
.” She peered at Skye. “Do you get my meaning?”

“Are you referring to their love lives?” Skye asked, carefully trying not to leap to a conclusion that would offend Pru or divulge details Wally hadn't revealed to the teacher.

“Precisely.”

“Oh.” Skye cringed inwardly. She so didn't want to know this kind of thing about the superintendent. How would she ever look at him without visualizing him in a bedroom with whips and handcuffs?

“There are a few men in the area who enjoy that sort of thing and they attend a private club in Laurel,” Pru went on, staring at her feet. “They don't discuss it outside of that social establishment.”

“How does that apply to what you and Dr. Wraige were saying Sunday?”

“As you can imagine”—Pru's tongue snaked out and licked her dry lips—“finding women who are amenable to the men's tastes isn't always easy. Often once the men's wives or girlfriends discover their penchants, the women opt out of the relationship.”

Skye clamped her mouth shut, chanting silently,
Don't, don't, don't
. It would be so easy to make a smart-alecky remark, but she finally managed to swallow her response and said, “Understandably.”

“I agree. Why anyone would allow themselves to be subjugated is beyond me.” Pru's face had a disapproving look on it. “However, the ones that do are not my
problem. It's the ones who refuse that concern me because what happens if they tell someone?”

“Is that what happened with Virginia Elders and Palmer Lynch?” The pieces came together and Skye asked, “Were you and Dr. Wraige discussing the fact that Mr. Lynch had told Virginia too much?”

“Yes.” Pru puffed out her cheeks. “Palmer tried to get her to play his games and she refused. Shamus had warned Palmer not to reveal his preferences until he was sure Virginia would be open to them, but he jumped the gun and she knew his dirty little secret.”

“Just in time for the school board president election.” Skye shuffled her feet, thinking. “Did Virginia threaten Mr. Lynch?”

“Not that I'm aware of.” Pru sent a quelling look in Skye's direction. “But she didn't have to. She just called him a disgusting pervert and then refused to see him again. Why wouldn't she tell people rather than allow a man she thought of as a degenerate to have a position of authority involving children?”

Ignoring Pru's question, Skye asked one of her own. “Did Mr. Lynch have any plans to do something to stop Virginia from blabbing?”

“He was going to let her cool off for a couple of days, then apologize and try to convince her it had been a joke.”

“Did that work?”

“I don't know.” Pru wrinkled her brow. “When Shamus and I spoke after church on Sunday, he said that he planned to call Palmer on Monday morning to find out if he had managed to pacify Virginia. However, since I understand from your husband's questions that Palmer was murdered on Sunday night, Shamus wouldn't have been able to reach him.”

Skye heard the bell and realized that any minute kids would be pouring into Pru's classroom so she took
a breath and asked the question she wished she didn't have to bring up. “Did Dr. Wraige intend to say anything to Virginia to ensure her silence?”

“Are you obtuse?” Pru's irritation with Skye was obvious. “Virginia has no idea about any of the other men. Shamus would never take the chance of exposing himself to save an ass like Palmer. It would have been nice to have an ally as the president of the school board, but certainly not worth that kind of risk. Palmer was on his own, and he wouldn't reveal the other club members. They all signed a confidentiality agreement.”

“Well, that's good,” Skye said evenly. Pru's assertion made sense. Like his cousin, the superintendent was well known as a man who looked after number one and no one else. “Wally and I will keep Shamus's tastes confidential as long as it doesn't concern the murder.”

Just as the first student entered, Pru marched into her classroom, followed by Skye.

Stopping short, the English teacher scowled. “See that you do.”

“You have my word.” Skye headed for the hallway.

Before she could escape, Pru grabbed her wrist and hissed into her ear, “And don't even think of trying to use this against either Shamus or me. Trust me. You will not come out on top.”

“I wouldn't dream of it.” Skye nearly choked, but managed to keep her expression neutral. “I don't break confidentiality unless someone is a danger to themselves or others. As long as what Dr. Wraige does is consensual, safe, and mutual, I don't care.”

“That better be the case. Now”—Pru glanced pointedly at Skye and released her arm—“unlike you, I have a class to teach. So if you'll excuse me.”

As soon as Skye got to her office, she phoned Wally, but he wasn't at the PD and didn't answer his cell.
Shoot!
She wanted to compare notes and to ask if Dr. Wraige and Pru had alibis. Not to mention, she wanted to find out what Uncle Charlie had to say. She crossed her fingers that her godfather had someone who could account for his whereabouts during the time of death.

The rest of the afternoon whizzed by. In between counseling sessions and writing reports, Skye tried to reach Wally several times, but they ended up playing phone tag. Finally, she gave up and left a message that she'd see him at the police station after work.