Murder of a Cranky Catnapper (21 page)

“Perfect.” Skye checked her watch. It was only nine forty-five. Plenty of time to eat and still be back at work before noon. “Juniorette worked up quite an appetite performing for us during the ultrasound.”

“That's my baby.” Wally chuckled and squeezed her hand.

His expression was so loving that Skye's throat closed. Tears of happiness welled up in her eyes. This was it. They were really having a baby

*   *   *

When Skye returned to work after her OB-GYN appointment, she was in a good mood, but then idiots happened. After solving the crisis du jour at the grade school, she hurried over to the high school to assist the clerk from McDonald's with her final English paper.

Before calling the girl down to her office, Skye had looked through her file. And as she'd suspected, the
only class the teen wasn't doing well in was Pru's. Her previous English grades had been A's, and when questioned, the girl assured Skye that she had no missing assignments or low test scores, so there was no reason she should be struggling to pass this year.

That is, unless the teacher had some sort of prejudice against the girl. Skye didn't have time to figure out what that bias might be, and frankly probably couldn't do much about it if she knew. With Corny, it could be as simple as the student's low social economic status or as complex as a grudge against a family member.

Although frustrated with her inability to right all the wrongs in the school system, Skye had to settle for cautioning the teen not to mention to Pru that Skye had helped her. With a final admonishment to the girl to keep quiet, Skye hurried to her next appointment.

When she arrived at the junior high for the school's afternoon annual reviews, Neva Llewelyn met Skye at the door and directed her to clear her schedule. She told Skye that she had to attend an emergency meeting regarding a student named Grant Paulk. Without giving her any other details, but with a warning that the matter would end up in the hands of the law, the principal had ordered Skye to accompany her to a parent conference.

Neva led Skye to the art room. It was in an isolated area, allowing for more privacy than any other spot in the school. Which was why they always used it for this kind of session. Unfortunately the odor of turpentine was overwhelming, and Skye prayed that the smell wouldn't make her deposit her hastily consumed lunch on Neva's shiny beige pumps.

Breathing through her mouth, Skye glanced at the other three women sitting around the paint-stained table waiting for Grant Paulk's folks to arrive. The trio looked as if they wished they were anywhere else.

Determined to shake her bad mood and make the best of the situation, Skye leaned to her right, lowered her voice, and said, “Abby, do you remember the other day we talked about how hard it was to meet a nice guy?”

“Uh-huh.” The school nurse nodded cautiously. “Who do you have in mind?”

“Linc Quillen, the vet who owns the animal clinic just outside of town,” Skye whispered. “When I saw him yesterday, it dawned on me that he'd be perfect for you. He's single, handsome, and has a good job. Plus, you both are in the medical field.”

“Hmm.” Abby wound a strand of white-blond hair around her finger. “He is cute. And I really liked how sweet he was when I brought Hasselhoff into his clinic. He had a really soothing bedside manner.”

“Shall I give him your number?” Skye asked, then flinched when the art room door banged open and Mr. and Mrs. Paulk marched inside. “I mentioned you to Dr. Q and he was definitely interested.”

“Sure.” Abby's aquamarine eyes twinkled. “I'm ready to shake up my love life.”

“Great.” Skye turned her attention to the hostile faces of Grant Paulk's parents. Neva was seated to her left, and Skye could feel the principal's anxiety.

Neva waited until the Paulks sat down, then said, “Thank you for joining us on such short notice. I'm afraid we have a serious situation with your son Grant that needs our immediate attention.”

“This is ridiculous,” Barney Paulk raged. “We just spoke to Grant in your office. He has assured us he's innocent and is being set up.”

His wife, Posey, screeched, “I can't fathom why you would believe some little tramp, rather than an outstanding boy like our son. We'll sue.”

“Of course you will,” Neva muttered under her breath, then said aloud, “At lunch today, Grant snuck out of
the cafeteria and lured one of his female classmates into the woods behind the athletic field.”

“Grant says he was only walking the girl home.” Mrs. Paulk gripped the edge of the table. “She didn't feel well and Ms. Fleming refused to allow her to call her parents.” Mrs. Paulk scowled at Abby, who remained expressionless. “The girl became disoriented and panicked.”

Skye watched in hypnotized fascination as a drop of sweat hovered above Posey Paulk's lips. Outside, temperatures were nearing the ninety degree mark and the junior high wasn't air conditioned.

Neva continued as if Mrs. Paulk hadn't spoken. “Luckily the girl was able to break free and got away.” Neva glanced at her notes. “When she stumbled back to the school, she told the cafeteria supervisor what happened.” The principal gestured to a woman wearing a white apron over a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that read,
THE
3
C'S OF BEING A CAFETERIA LUNCH
LADY ARE COOKING, CLE
ANING, AND CARING
. “Mrs. Owenton immediately brought the girl to me and I summoned Ms. Fleming.”

“That little hussy made all this up so she wouldn't get into trouble.” Barney Paulk swung his oversized head toward the principal and pinned her with his feverish glare. “Grant is the victim here.”

“The girl was never
in
trouble, and Ms. Fleming has no record of her ever requesting to go home due to illness.” Staring at the hulking man, Neva continued, “When the young lady was brought to my office, she still had the can of soda your son had given her.”

At Neva's statement, all the fight went out of Mrs. Paulk. She hunched down in her chair and covered her face with her hands.

Obviously, Grant's mother knew something his father didn't because Mr. Paulk huffed, “So what. Giving someone a pop isn't a crime.”

“It is when the drink has been drugged.” Neva's tone was firm.

Skye felt sorry for these parents. Like many others, they couldn't let themselves believe that their child might do the awful things of which he was accused. Some, like the father, were unaware, and others, like the mother, chose to ignore whatever they suspected.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Mr. Paulk roared. “Are you crazy?”

“Because of the girl's disoriented state and the gaps in her memory, Ms. Fleming suspected that something had been added to the can of soda,” Neva answered. “She and I searched Grant's locker and found this.”

Neva displayed an open shoe box. Skye noticed that a very famous athlete's name was printed on the side of the bright red carton.

“Those aren't my son's,” Mrs. Paulk said. “We never bought him those.”

“Nevertheless they were in his locker. And this is what we found inside the shoes.” The principal reached into the sneaker's toe and held up a baggie containing a tiny vial of white powder. “As a courtesy,” Neva continued, staring at the Paulks, “we asked you to come in so you could be with Grant when the police arrive. You may wait with him in my office while I telephone the station.”

“But . . . wait a minute,” Mr. Paulk stuttered. “Nothing happened and the girl is fine. Can't we handle this without the cops?”

“Sorry.” Neva shook her head. “It is a school board policy that any time a crime is committed, the police need to be informed.” She crossed her arms. “We have no choice in the matter.”

“You people should never have started this whole thing. Grant is being framed by some slut who is mad that he dumped her,” Barney Paulk shouted. He leaned
forward toward Neva and yelled, “You bitch! You had no right to search his locker without a warrant.”

“Yes, we did.” Neva narrowed her eyes. “At the beginning of the school year we sent home a notice stating that the principal has a master key to the lockers and periodic searches for contraband would be conducted. You initialed, indicating you read and understood the document.”

“That's bullshit!” Mr. Paulk bellowed and pounded the tabletop.

Abby glanced at Skye, obviously frightened. Neva and Mrs. Owenton were staring at Grant's father as if he were a cobra about to strike and they were too hypnotized to get out of the way.

Skye's chest tightened. This was why Neva wanted her at the meeting. It was tough being the one to attempt to persuade parents to see their children's problems, but in this situation it was her job.

“He tried to kidnap a girl and was found with drugs in his possession,” Skye said firmly. “You need to recognize that he has a problem and get him help now before he succeeds in raping someone. Next time, the girl might not get away, and who knows what could happen afterwards.”

Posey Paulk started to speak, but was interrupted by her husband when he lunged across the table. His face within inches of Skye's, he wordlessly growled his rage.

Desperate to escape his deranged stare, Skye struggled to push her chair back. But it stuck to the old linoleum floor, and before she could get it to budge, Paulk grabbed her upper arms.

His breath smelled like road kill as he hissed, “My son is innocent.” Giving Skye a shake as if to emphasize his point, the man screamed, “My boy doesn't do drugs and no one is saying that he does!”

Not waiting to see what the crazed man would do next, Skye thrust her lower arms up between his and knocked his hands away. Freed from his grasp, she hurriedly put as much space as possible between her and the lunatic.

Everyone in the room, including the man's wife, froze.

Skye's breath was coming in shallow gasps and she felt light-headed, but she lifted her chin and said, “That was assault, Mr. Paulk. And don't think for a minute that I won't press charges.”

Barney Paulk stepped closer and threatened, “You better watch yourself, missy. I'm a close personal friend of the mayor's. This whole business will be thrown out as soon as I call Dante.”

“Perhaps.” Skye forced her voice to remain steady. “But the mayor's my uncle and I'm married to the police chief.” Pointing to her stomach, she said, “And this is his baby.”

“So? Men don't care as much about that as you bitches think we do. It's not as if we can't make another one.” Paulk stomped to the door. “Let me make myself clear. Either this all goes away or the whole bunch of you will be sorry.”

Time spent with cats is never wasted.

—SIGMUND FREUD

U
nlike the time when Skye had been attacked by a parent at the high school, Neva fully supported Skye's decision to make a formal complaint regarding Barney Paulk's assault. While Homer had threatened Skye with immediate dismissal if she pressed charges against the man, Neva stated that she fully intended to see if there were any charges the school could bring against Mr. Paulk to support Skye's claim.

As Neva and Skye walked to the office, she asked, “Do you ever feel like you're one knucklehead away from insanity?”

“All the time.” Skye chuckled.

Stopping by the empty secretary's desk, Neva indicated the phone and said, “Do you want to call the police, or should I?”

“It would be best if you did it and didn't mention my involvement.” When Neva raised a questioning brow, Skye said, “All we need is for one of my concerned relatives to show up and try to defend me.”

Lucky for Mr. Paulk, Wally was busy with the murder investigation and had put Martinez on the daytime shift. When Zelda arrived at the school, Neva outlined
what had led up to the Paulk meeting and what happened during the conference. She then informed the young officer that Mrs. Paulk was with Abby and Mr. Paulk was with his son in Neva's office.

Although clearly outraged at Paulk's laying his hands on Skye, Zelda didn't appear inclined to beat the crap out of the man, which might not have been the case if Wally had been the officer on the scene. However, when Paulk refused to open the door, claiming he was waiting for the mayor to return his call, Zelda's faced reddened and she fingered her weapon.

Skye tapped her on the arm and whispered, “Dante's on a cruise with my aunt. He won't be home for a couple of days, and I seriously doubt he's checking his voice mail.”

“That's probably a good thing.” Zelda may have been the newest member of the force, but she had quickly learned that the mayor was no friend of the police department. Gesturing to Neva to come closer, she asked softly, “Do you have a key for your office?”

“It's in my purse, which is in my desk drawer.” Neva's tone dripped with frustration. Stepping over to the intercom, she pressed a button and said, “Aiden, I need your passkey.” A second later, she added, “Right away.”

A couple of minutes passed before the custodian arrived. He silently tossed a ring of keys at Neva and left. Aiden had been hired at the beginning of the school year and Skye couldn't recall ever hearing the man speak.

Zelda motioned for Skye and Neva to stand back, then she quietly turned the key in the lock. With her gun at the ready, the officer stood to the side and twisted the knob.

Charging into the room, Zelda shouted, “Barney
Paulk, you are under arrest. Place your hands on the wall and spread your legs.”

Skye couldn't see what was happening, but she heard the rattle of handcuffs and Zelda reading Paulk his rights. Suddenly, there were the sounds of a scuffle. Worried that the young officer was in trouble, Skye crept closer.

When she saw that Zelda had Grant Paulk against the desk and was securing his wrists with a zip tie, Skye blew out a relieved breath. Evidently, the Scumble River police had only one set of metal cuffs and the plastic version as backup. She was thankful that the cops were so well prepared. That had to be Wally's doing.

Because it was against policy to transport two prisoners in the same cruiser, once Zelda had the Paulks under control, she radioed for a second squad car. A few moments later, Quirk arrived and father and son were taken away.

As soon as Neva notified Mrs. Paulk that her husband and child had been arrested, she stormed out of the building. Skye assumed the woman would follow her family to the station. But there was an odd look in her eye so there was the off chance she'd had enough of the two bullies in her life and was heading home to pack and leave town.

Skye turned to Neva and announced, “I'd better go to the PD so I can make my statement.”

“Abby and I will be there as soon as school is over to give ours.” The principal nodded. “Now, I need to deal with the girl's parents. I've had them waiting with Ursula in the band room to avoid any run-ins between them and the Paulks.”

“Oh.” Skye wasn't sure how to respond to that statement.

With the teachers all occupied with students they
couldn't leave unsupervised and Abby and Skye needed at the Paulk meeting, Neva had little choice. But the school secretary, Ursula Nelson, wasn't exactly the warm and cuddly type.

Shrugging her shoulders, Skye retrieved her purse from her desk and headed to her car. Ursula's lack of tact was Neva's problem, not hers.

While Zelda and Quirk had been handling Barney and Grant, Skye sent a text to Wally outlining what had happened. She'd assured him she was fine and would see him soon. But she knew that he'd be worried, so before driving to the PD, she sent him a message that she was on her way and would meet him in his office.

May wasn't scheduled to be at work until four, but with Thea on vacation, Skye wasn't certain when her mother's shift started. Unwilling to take the chance that May was already on duty, Skye once again entered the station through the garage and snuck upstairs.

Wally was waiting in the second-floor hallway and swept her into his arms. After he had reassured himself that she and the baby hadn't been injured, he led Skye into his office and settled her on a chair.

Once they were both seated, he said, “Tell me what happened. Until I got your text, all I heard was that there was an incident at the junior high and Martinez had been sent to deal with it.”

She recounted both Grant's actions leading up to the meeting and his father's behavior during the conference, then said, “I wonder if the drugs that were found in the boy's locker are ketamine.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Wally had kept ahold of her hand and now he squeezed her fingers. “I had Martinez sign them over to Anthony, and he's already on his way to Laurel to have them tested along with the soda can that Grant gave the girl.”

“I sure wish we knew what Palmer had been up to.” Skye chewed her lip.

“And I sure wish he was around to interrogate.” Wally rolled his neck, then sighed. “Considering that I want to kill Paulk for touching you, I thought it best to let Quirk process him and his son.” Wally frowned, obviously wishing that he were the one locking up his wife's assailant. “Are you up to taking a ride to the Dollar or Three store with me?”

“Which one?” Skye asked. “Didn't we say there were four of them?”

“Let's start with the closest.” Wally pulled her up from the chair and wrapped an arm around her, keeping her close to his side. “I want to talk to Ruben Ramirez, the chain's manager, but no one can tell me which store he'll be at when. Evidently, he likes to surprise his staff. Says it keeps them on their toes.”

Once they were out of the station and in the squad car, it only took a few minutes to drive to the Scumble River Dollar or Three store. It was located at the edge of town in a struggling strip mall a couple of miles from the I-55 overpass.

The only other occupied buildings held a cigarette shop and a nail salon. A Mexican restaurant's window held a tattered notice that read,
COMING SOON
, but that sign had been there for at least a year.

Skye had never been inside the Dollar or Three store and was impressed at the variety of merchandise on display. Everything from hardware to jewelry to pantry staples such as cereal and potato chips. It was the only place within a half hour where some of the nongrocery items were available.

The Dollar or Three parking lot was jammed, and Skye wasn't surprised to find the store full of jostling shoppers. While Wally waited for the clerk to finish ringing up a customer, she examined the shelves.

Squeezing through the congested aisles, she listened to children whining for candy and toys and husbands whining to go home. Skye took her time studying the assorted products. There were a few brand names mixed with the generic labels, but most of those looked as if they were either seconds or discontinued items.

Noticing a section of school materials, Skye headed in that direction. She always kept a stash of pens, pencils, notebooks, and glue sticks in her desks at the various buildings for students whose parents might not be able to afford to buy them.

The prices were really good, and Skye was planning a trip back to restock her supplies when she spotted a display of tennis shoes. Maybe she could pick up a cheap pair that would fit her swollen feet.

Unwilling to spend a lot of money on shoes that would be too big in a few months, she bypassed the red boxes containing the pricey sneakers endorsed by a famous athlete and instead she scanned the other possibilities. Torn between the pink high-tops and the more practical traditional white tennies, she didn't hear Wally's approach. When his hand landed on her shoulder, she jumped and let out a tiny shriek.

“Sorry, darlin'.” Wally's tone was amused. “I didn't mean to scare you. I forgot how focused you get when you're shopping.”

“If you don't start making more noise before you come up behind me, I'm going to put a bell around your neck. I have one on a nice pink collar that Bingo refused to wear.” Skye swatted his arm and asked, “Is the manager here?”

“No.” Wally's mouth thinned. “The clerk thinks he might be at the Clay Center store.”

“Let's go find out.” Eager to see what kind of merchandise might be available at their next stop, Skye laced her fingers with Wally's and headed for the exit.

An hour later, Ruben Ramirez wasn't in Clay Center or Brooklyn, and Skye still hadn't purchased a pair of sneakers. She kept thinking there might be something better at a store they had yet to visit.

As they returned to the squad car for the third time, Skye said, “I don't think you ever told me where the fourth store was located.”

“Laurel.” Wally blew out a disgusted breath. “Of course, the manager would be at the farthest one. And of course, he doesn't answer his cell phone. This guy is harder to find than a teenager when it's time to do the dishes.”

Wally was silent as they drove to the county seat. Skye could tell that he was stressed by his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. Between Paulk's attack on her and the time they'd wasted trying to locate Mr. Ramirez, Wally's last shred of patience was just about gone.

When he nearly rear-ended a car moseying along below the speed limit, Skye tried to distract him. “Hey. Since we're going to be in Laurel anyway, maybe we could stop at the crime lab and see if they know whether the drugs in Grant's locker were ketamine like we suspected.”

“It's too soon.” Wally's jaw tightened and he ground his teeth. “Which is all I ever hear from the crime techs or the ME.”

“Then we could treat ourselves to dinner at Harry's,” Skye suggested, determined to divert his attention to a more pleasant matter. “You love their prime rib.”

“Sounds like a good idea.” Wally's lips twitched. “And if we get a lead from Ramirez, I'll even treat you to that dessert you like.”

“I shouldn't.” Skye glanced down at her ever-expanding waistline.

“I wish you wouldn't worry about that.” Wally stroked
her thigh. “How about I order the French silk pie and ask for two forks?”

“Deal.” Skye caressed his hand, then raised hers and pointed to the right. “And there's the Dollar or Three next to Dunkin' Donuts.”

Wally made a sharp turn into the lot, pulled into an empty spot, and helped Skye from the car. Following him inside, she ignored the wonderful chocolate smell wafting from the doughnut shop.

Like the other Dollar or Three stores, this one was situated on the outskirts of town. But Skye had noticed that while all the stores carried similar products, specific items varied from location to location.

Wally zeroed in on the front counter, but Skye strolled down the aisles. One area in particular was mobbed, and she scooted into a space vacated by a large man clutching something red to his chest.

What in the world were all the folks fighting to get? Peeking over a woman's shoulder, she saw a wall of sneakers. Apparently there was some sort of sale on a particular brand, and it was a very popular one. Most items in the place were under ten bucks, but the sign above these shoes read, $50.

Before she could ease away from the horde and allow someone else to take her spot, a boy next to her said, “What size are you looking for?”

Skye turned and saw the speaker, a twelve-year-old with sandy hair, sincere brown eyes, and a shy grin. Although she recognized him from Scumble River Junior High, she couldn't recall his name.

She smiled back and said, “I'm not. These are too pricey for me.”

“But they're Konan Laborie's,” he explained. “The shoes he endorses sell for two to five hundred bucks. These are the cheaper ones, but still at seventy-five percent off, they're a steal.”

“Oh.” Skye knew that Konan was a famous basketball player, but not much else about him. “What I don't understand is why people are struggling to get them. I've seen a few pairs in all of the Dollar or Three stores.”

“Yeah.” The boy shrugged. “Usually they sell some of Konan's shoes that are seconds, but these are perfect.”

“Are you getting a pair?”

“No.” His cheeks turned red. “Mom can't afford to buy 'em for me.” He crossed his arms, then obviously parroting something he'd heard, said, “She works too hard to spend that kind of money on sneakers.”

“That's very grown-up of you to understand.” Skye wished she could buy the boy the shoes. But before she could figure out a way to do it, she spotted Wally gesturing for her to meet him. Turning to the preteen, she said, “I've got to go. My husband's waiting for me. Nice talking to you.”