Murder of a Cranky Catnapper (7 page)

“That's right.” Simon looked between Skye and Wally. “I understand that congratulations are in order.” His lips thinned. “I see you two didn't waste any time creating Baby Boyd.” He stared at Wally. “I guess that's one way to win over your new mother-in-law.”

In addition to Wally's divorced status and the fact he wasn't Catholic, his age had been a huge issue with Skye's mother. May had been afraid that he'd have difficulty producing a grandchild for her.

Wally's expression hardened, but he ignored Simon's comment and said to Skye, “Why don't you just let me drive you home, sweetheart?”

“I'll wait until you're through with Dorothy,” Skye said, chewing on her thumbnail. “She pretends to be a tough old broad, but this really knocked her for a loop and I think she needs my support.”

“Okay, darlin'.” Wally led Skye a couple of steps over to the Cadillac, where the older woman still appeared to be napping, and opened the door. “I'll get Quirk and Reid situated, then talk to Dorothy.”

Skye slid inside the car, but as Wally turned to go, she said, “Wait. Before I forget, Lynch was in church yesterday
and afterwards he was making a lot of campaign promises. Once he left, I overheard some of those conversations and people weren't happy.”

“Another thing for us to discuss tonight.” Wally kissed her cheek.

Simon had followed them and tsked. “May said you promised to attend Mass with Skye. That didn't last long. Did it, Chief?”

Skye had had enough of her ex and she glared at him. He had moved on. He was dating Emmy Jones. What was his problem?

Beware of people who dislike cats.

—IRISH PROVERB

D
orothy opened her eyes when Skye got into the car. However, as soon Skye started to tell her what was happening, she quickly closed her lids and turned away. Understanding that the distraught woman wasn't ready to face the situation, Skye swiveled her head and gazed out of the Caddy's back window.

Because it was a weekday morning, most of Lynch's neighbors were at work. But the few who were present were intent on finding out what had happened.

Less than a minute after the arrival of the second squad car, an older couple had taken seats on their porch to watch the show. Next, a woman and toddler came outside and sat on their front steps. That twosome was quickly joined by another mother and child.

Wally had assigned Sergeant Quirk the task of cordoning off the property. He had draped yellow ribbon around the yard's perimeter and placed a pair of sawhorses blocking the driveway.

With the crime scene tape up, the onlookers moved closer, gathering behind the barricade. The small group was now asking Quirk questions.

Rolling down the car's window, Skye tried to hear
what was being said, but she caught only an occasional word or phrase. It sounded as if the sergeant was claiming ignorance, which wasn't far from the truth. Wally hadn't given him any details beyond the fact that there was a suspicious death.

Skye studied Quirk. Roy was in his mid-thirties, and, except for his lack of hair, he still looked like the football player he'd been in high school. She could tell the sergeant was starting to lose his patience with the nosy neighbors because he was making shooing motions with his hands and his face had turned an ugly shade of red.

Even from where she sat, Skye could see that Quirk was having trouble remaining civil. She knew that in the past the sergeant had issues with his temper—she'd been on the receiving end of his short fuse a few times herself—but Wally had insisted Quirk see a therapist and he'd been doing better.

Hoping to avoid a relapse, she quickly hopped out of the Caddy. She hurried to where the irate officer stood glowering at an elderly man waving a cane.

Pushing against the wooden barricade, the man shouted, “We have a right to know what's happening in our own neighborhood!”

“Sir,” Quirk said between clenched teeth, “please step back.”

A young woman holding a toddler who was chewing the end of her blond ponytail asked, “Did something happen to Palmer?”

“Ma'am.” Quirk heaved a sigh. “As I've said repeatedly, I have no information.”

“Why should we believe that? On television, cops lie all the time.” She wagged her index finger under Quirk's nose. “What are you hiding, Roy?”

“Nothing!” Quirk bellowed, swatting away both the cane that the man was poking at his chest and the hand
waving in his face. “Return to your homes. Once the situation has been fully assessed, the chief will make an announcement.”

Skye stepped closer to the sergeant and in a low voice suggested, “Maybe you need to take some deep breaths.”

“I'm okay,” Quirk muttered, then surprised Skye by winking as he said, “You know if folks would control their effing stupidity, I wouldn't have to manage my anger.”

Before Skye could respond, the elderly woman grabbed her hand and asked, “Are we in danger?”

“That is highly unlikely,” Skye assured the group, then had an inspiration. “But just in case, it probably would be best to lock yourself inside your house until the police have completely secured the area.”

The blonde shrieked, clutched her child to her bosom, and ran. The other mom, dragging her toddler by the hand, was right behind her friend, but the older couple hesitated, glancing at their screen door.

Skye's gaze followed theirs and she asked, “Did you leave your place unlocked?”

The couple nodded.

“Sergeant.” Skye gave Quirk's arm a meaningful squeeze. “Perhaps you could walk through Mr. and Mrs. . . .”

“Cooperson,” the woman supplied.

“Mr. and Mrs. Cooperson's house to make sure no one entered it while they've been distracted,” Skye finished, smiling at the couple.

“The chief told me to stay here.” Quirk's lips formed a stubborn line.

“I guess I could go with the Coopersons and check.” Skye raised a brow. “If you think Wally would be happier with that alternative.”

“No.” The sergeant frowned, clearly envisioning the
chief's reaction to his pregnant wife walking into an even remotely dangerous situation because Quirk refused to go.

“Look.” Skye gestured to the deserted street. “I'll stop anyone from entering the crime scene while you ensure the Coopersons' safety.”

“Fine,” Quirk growled. “Get your cell out and ready to call for help. If there's a problem, lock yourself in the car.”

Once the sergeant disappeared into the Coopersons' bungalow, Skye returned to the Caddy and sat sideways with her feet on the pavement. She'd wanted Quirk to help out the elderly couple so that they would see him as a man who had come to their rescue instead of one who had refused to answer their questions and barked orders at them.

Roy needed to learn the value of positive public relations. He was an excellent cop, but his reputation wasn't as good as his abilities warranted. People saw him as a brusque control freak, and in today's world, that image of a police officer didn't cut it anymore.

Skye was toying with the idea of suggesting that she run a social skills group for Scumble River's police officers when suddenly Dorothy screamed and clawed at the door handle, trying to get out of the car. Instinctively, Skye grabbed her and wrapped her arms around the woman. Her attempt to comfort Dorothy was futile. The woman continued to shriek and struggle to break free.

Scanning the area, Skye didn't see anything or anyone that should have frightened Dorothy. After several seconds, the woman blinked, then collapsed, breathing heavily and clutching Skye's biceps.

“What happened?” Skye asked, stroking Dorothy's hair out of her eyes.

“I must have fallen asleep.” Dorothy straightened. “I dreamed that a man with a whip was chasing me around my bedroom telling me to beg for it.”

As Skye struggled to contain an inappropriate giggle, Wally came running around the house and rushed up to her. “Are you okay? What the hell happened?”

“Dorothy had a nightmare,” Skye said. “Did Simon figure out the time of death?”

“We'll talk later,” Wally answered, glancing at Dorothy, then looked around and asked, “Where's Quirk? I didn't see him in the back.”

Skye explained the sergeant's absence, then pointed over her husband's shoulder. “There he is now.” When Wally turned to look, Skye gestured in the other direction. “And isn't that the county's crime tech van?”

“It's about time.” Wally patted Skye's cheek. “I'll get the techs started, then come out and talk to Dorothy so you both can get out of here.”

After what seemed like another interminable wait, Wally reemerged from Lynch's house and headed to the car. Skye got in the backseat of the Cadillac and Wally slid into the front next to Dorothy. As he took the woman through her arrival and discovery of the body again and again, Skye mentally composed a to-do list.

Missing a day of school meant rearranging all of her appointments and squeezing them into the rest of the week's schedule. She still had a couple of re-evaluations to complete before the end of the year, and most of the rest of her hours were filled with annual reviews.

All children receiving special education had to have a mandated re-eval every three years. The purpose of the assessment was to determine whether there was a continuing need for special education and related services, as well as to figure out if any changes had to be made in the student's Individualized Education Plan.

Annual reviews were formal meetings conducted by the school at least once a year to assess special education students' progress and determine future requirements.

Both took up the majority of Skye's time in April
and May. And this year, she also needed to get things arranged for the intern who would be joining her after summer break. She would only have a couple of weeks in the fall before the baby was born and then she'd be on maternity leave.

Theoretically, during Skye's absence a school psychologist from the county special education cooperative would supervise the intern. In reality, Skye knew that even if she had to guide the intern via telephone, she would end up with the brunt of the responsibility.

Lost in thought, Skye didn't see the crime tech approach the car, and she let out a startled yelp when he tapped on the window.

Wally scowled at the man in the blue coveralls, opened the car door, and said, “What?”

“Do you want us to process the garage?”

“Hmm.” Wally pursed his lips then, plainly coming to a decision, nodded. “Probably better include it. Considering how the vic met his maker, God only knows what he might have stashed in his garage.”

The tech's shrug conveyed that the crime scene hadn't made the same impression on him that it had on Wally. Even though the tech's unit covered the entire county, Skye wondered if the guy was just pretending to be so blasé or if he'd seen other criminal situations involving naked men or women tied to their beds.

She opened her mouth to ask, but before she could form the question, Wally said, “If the garage is locked, there's a bunch of keys hanging from a hook in the kitchen. Otherwise, break a window.”

“Okay, Chief. When we're done inside, we'll get right on it.” The tech sketched a mock salute and hurried away.

Wally turned back to Dorothy and said, “I'll get your statement typed up this afternoon, and you can come by the station tomorrow to sign it.”

“Can I leave?” Dorothy asked, slumped in her seat and clutching her purse.

“Yes.” As Wally exited the car, he added, “But stay in town.”

Dorothy paled and cringed at his words. She had aged ten years since Skye had seen her a few days ago. Leaning forward, she patted the woman's shoulder and the housekeeper gripped Skye's fingers.

“Do you want me to drive you home and stay with you?” Skye asked, easing her hand free.

“No.” Dorothy got out of the Catera's passenger seat, walked around the hood, and slid behind the wheel. “I'll call Tammy to come over.”

Tammy was Dorothy's daughter. She was a year older than Skye, and because their parents had been friends, as children they'd been forced to hang out with each other. But when they hit adolescence, they'd gone their separate ways. And when Skye left for college, rarely returning to town for the next decade, she'd lost touch with Tammy.

Now that Skye had been back in Scumble River for seven years, she'd run into Dorothy's daughter a few times. But other than a shared past and their mothers' friendship, they didn't have much in common.

“Terrific. Tammy will keep you company and she'll make sure you don't get into any more trouble.”

Skye scooted out of the Cadillac's backseat and winked at Dorothy. She and May were a lot wilder than Skye and Tammy. When they were growing up, it had been a big joke that the girls had to keep their moms in line rather than the usual vice versa.

Dorothy smiled at Skye and waved good-bye to her. Dorothy waited while Quirk removed the squad car and barricade from her path, then backed down the driveway and sped off. Once the red Cadillac
disappeared from sight, the sergeant replaced the barrier and returned to his discussion with Wally.

Curious, Skye joined the men. Wally absentmindedly slid his arm around her waist and she rested her head against his shoulder. It wasn't even noon yet and she was exhausted. She should go to the grade school, do the observation she'd scheduled, and finish writing a report, but she could barely keep her eyes open.

Quirk spoke quickly, informing Wally that the two mothers and the older couple hadn't seen anything unusual at Lynch's last night or this morning. He added that the other residents weren't home.

“Call in Martinez to do a door-to-door along the road behind this one,” Wally ordered. “And when she is done with that, the folks around here should be back from work so she can do Center Street, too.”

Zelda Martinez was Scumble River's newest police officer and the only woman on the force. Zelda had joined the department a little over a year and a half ago. She'd been hired fresh out of college and was still inexperienced in dealing with everyday issues not covered in the curriculum so Wally often assigned her the routine stuff.

“Should I call Anthony in to work with her?” Quirk asked. “He could use the practice and Martinez will have backup if things go south.”

“Good idea.” Wally nodded.

Anthony was a part-timer. He was also employed by his father, who owned an appliance repair business. Lucky for Wally, the young officer's dad was willing to let his son off at a moment's notice.

“I'm on it, Chief.” Quirk grabbed the radio on his shoulder.

“Use your cell,” Wally instructed. “Let's keep this under wraps as long as possible. I need to get ahold of
Lynch's mother before someone tells her the cops are at her son's house.”

“I think it might be too late.” Quirk pointed to a shiny silver Lincoln MKZ pulling to a stop in front of them.

A tall, thin woman in her early seventies exited the car and marched up to Wally. “What's going on, Chief? The Coopersons called to tell me that the police had Palmer's house surrounded. I'm his mother. Where is my son? Does he know you're here? Has there been a burglary?”

“Ma'am,” Wally said. “How about if we sit in the squad car and I'll explain.”

“I'd rather talk to Palmer.” Mrs. Lynch pulled her beige cardigan closed. “I called his home phone and his cell several times this morning, but he didn't answer.”