Murder of a Sleeping Beauty (21 page)

Outside, the night was cool, and she wrapped her arms around herself as she gazed up at the moon. From where she stood on the sidewalk, she could hear the murmur of voices inside.

She was about to go back when Earl Doozier stepped through the doors. He had managed to spill water down his front, soaking the small potbelly that hung over his waistband.

He caught Skye staring at him and grinned. “When you’ve got a tool as good as mine, you have to build a shed over it.” He patted both his upper and lower bulges for emphasis.

Half of her wanted to laugh, but the other half fought for a more dignified response. Before she could react either way, Glenda appeared out of nowhere and grabbed Earl’s arm. “Too bad all that shade stunted your prize tool’s growth.”

Skye could hear the couple arguing as they walked to their car. She decided to return to the visitation, where it was relatively safe.

The line had finally stopped growing, and only a few stragglers remained. Skye glanced around. It was nearly eight, and there was no one left whom she knew. Time to retrieve her purse and go home.

She had left her handbag in the parlor off the visitation area. She made her way to the little room, but her purse wasn’t there.

Shit!
Where could it be? Surely, no one would steal it during a wake. Maybe it had slipped. Skye got on her hands and knees, and crawled between the chair and sofa. Still no sign of her bag. Could it have been kicked behind the couch?

She inched toward the wall and spotted it wedged between a sofa leg and the wood molding. As she reached for the clutch, she heard voices. People were standing in the doorway and didn’t realize she was there.

Before she could speak, a voice she recognized as Mrs. VanHorn’s fake Southern drawl said, “We are not canceling Saturday’s pageant.”

Lorna Ingels answered, “We’ll see about that. I’ve made several calls, and everyone agrees the Miss Central Illinois contest should be eliminated this year, and the title awarded posthumously to Lorelei.”

“That’s a bunch of crap. No one wants that but you. It wouldn’t be fair to the other girls.”

“Especially Zoë, who would finally have a slim chance at a real title.” Venom oozed from Lorna’s words.

Skye decided to wait quietly rather than embarrass the two women and herself by revealing her presence.

“If we should cancel Miss Central Illinois out of respect, why was it okay for Linette to compete for Junior Miss Stanley County last weekend?” Priscilla asked belligerently.

“That was entirely different. It had nothing to do with Lorelei, and it wouldn’t have been fair to Linette to penalize her for her sister’s death,” Lorna replied smoothly.

“Well, it isn’t fair to all the girls who have been getting ready for the Miss Central Illinois pageant for months. Not to mention the money their parents have spent,” Priscilla retorted. “Anyway, they’ve never awarded an honorary crown in the history of the pageants, and no matter how many stupid calls you make, it isn’t going to happen now.”

“Never say never,” Lorna said, as Skye watched her feet move toward the door.

Priscilla followed. “What do you mean by that?”

“I have a call in to the governor,” Lorna announced.

“So?”

“Didn’t you know, dear? She’s Allen’s distant cousin.”

Priscilla’s reply was cut off as the woman moved away from the door. Skye crawled from her unintended hiding place, clutching her purse and thinking,
Isn’t that an interesting tidbit?

 

 

 

 

S
kye rolled her shoulders as she supervised the loading of the bus that would take the students to Lorelei’s funeral. It had felt wonderful to get into the pool this morning before school, but after having missed a week’s worth of morning swims, her muscles were protesting. She squinted into the ten o’clock sun. Wednesday had dawned clear and warm, with predicted temperatures in the seventies. It was the nicest day they’d had so far that spring. Too bad they’d be spending it at the cemetery.

The kids were subdued as they climbed the bus steps and found seats. Skye’s gaze strayed to Troy, who had claimed the back bench. Zoë sat on his right and Farrah on his left. Both girls competed for his attention. Was he the father of Lorelei’s baby? He certainly would have had a lot to lose if she had lived and insisted on having the child. Would Notre Dame have honored Troy’s scholarship? It was a Catholic university. There might very well be a morals clause.

Rumor had it that Troy was desperate to get out of Scumble River, and Skye could certainly empathize with that desire. If he had been the father of Lorelei’s baby, and her family exerted enough pressure, he might have been stuck in his hated hometown forever. Maybe he made up the story about Lorelei’s other boyfriend.

“Ready to go?” The bus driver leaned through the open door and directed his question to Skye.

“Two of the chaperons aren’t here yet. We’ll wait a few minutes, then I’ll go look for them.”

“I got to be back for the kindergarten run at eleven-thirty.”

“Okay.” Skye went back to her musings, while keeping an eye on the school doors. Zoë and her mother had a lot of motive. She had never seen two more ruthless people. With Lorelei out of the way, Zoë could not only take over as “queen of the school,” but she could also win some real money on the pageant circuit.

The quiet spring morning was assaulted by the clamor of the bell announcing that second period had begun. Trixie and Kent hurried out of the school and toward the bus.

Kent gave a mock salute as he and Trixie mounted the steps.

Skye climbed aboard after them and settled next to Trixie, saying to the driver, “Okay, we can leave now.”

Kent had taken the empty seat next to Caresse, and soon the girl’s giggles rang through the nearly silent vehicle.

The teens remained quiet through the brief ceremony at the church. They filed off the bus at the cemetery without talking, and stood in a semicircle around the open tent that had been erected over the grave.

Skye stood between Justin and Frannie. Both adolescents’ presence worried her. While the boy’s attendance was most likely due to curiosity and a desire to miss class, much the same as many of the kids who were there, the girl’s participation was a little more ominous, considering her avowed hatred of Lorelei.

Justin said softly to Skye, “Did the copy of the autopsy give you any clues?”

Skye looked around uneasily. No one seemed to be paying attention to them. “We can’t talk about that here.”

The boy stiffened, his feelings obviously hurt. “Sure, just wondering.”

His ability to form relationships was so fragile that in spite of her better judgment, Skye told him, “You were a big help. But I want your promise you won’t ever copy someone’s private papers again.” She ignored the tiny voice of conscience that was calling her a hypocrite.

Justin ducked his head in what Skye hoped was a nod of agreement. She heard him mutter, “Too bad it didn’t include the tox screen.”

Skye shot him a censorious look before moving away.

Homer and Charlie, who had come by car, made their way over to where Skye was standing.

Charlie whispered in her ear, “Any leads?”

“I’ve gathered a lot of information,” she whispered back. “Lots of people with motives.”

“Good.” He gripped her hand. “Nothing that makes the school look bad, right?”

“No, not really, I guess.” Skye wondered if the school would look bad if it turned out that Lorelei’s boyfriend or best friend had killed her. Deep down, she was afraid the school would look bad whoever was found guilty, because the public would expect the school to have been clairvoyant, to have prevented Lorelei’s death no matter what.

Skye’s attention was drawn back to Frannie and Justin, who were whispering together. Frannie had a strange expression on her face. Skye thought the girl looked half scared, half satisfied.

Something Simon had said last night bubbled to the surface of Skye’s thoughts. If Frannie’s father, Xavier, had been a medic in the military, he probably knew about pharmaceuticals. Could Frannie have gotten her father talking and figured out what to give Lorelei to kill her? Or maybe Xavier got tired of the cheerleaders tormenting his daughter and took matters into his own hands.

The minister concluded the graveside ceremony by inviting everyone to say the Lord’s Prayer. As she murmured the words, Skye’s glance was drawn to Kent. He and Priscilla VanHorn stood some distance from the main crowd, and from the angry look on his face, Skye doubted they were praying.

She sighed. She knew she had been putting off talking to Kent. It would no doubt be awkward, especially since she had found out it was highly likely that Mrs. VanHorn’s allegations were true—he probably was sleeping with Lorna Ingels. But did that give him a motive to murder Lorelei?

People were filing past the casket. Lately it had become the custom to take a flower from one of the floral arrangements at a funeral as a keepsake. Most of the kids were behaving appropriately, and Skye was only half-aware of their movements when she spotted Justin Boward reaching again and again into a spray of pink roses. When he plucked out the sixth blossom, several adults started buzzing and pointing.

Homer grabbed Skye’s arm and hissed in her ear, “Stop that boy right now. Next thing we know all the kids’ll be stripping the grave of every last flower.”

She rolled her eyes but complied with the principal’s demand. Something that would seem unimportant to most people, like taking a few extra roses, was a capital offense within the school system.

Skye cut Justin out of the herd as quietly as a sheepdog separates a lamb from the flock.

When they were well away from the others, she said, “You’ll have to put those back. It’s inappropriate for you to have taken so many.”

The boy clutched the roses, reverting back to silence.

Skye took a breath and started again. “Maybe you didn’t know, but the custom is for everyone to take only one flower, as a remembrance.”

He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Whatever I do is wrong.”

Skye felt her heart sink. It was one step forward with this kid and two steps back. What had happened in his short life that had so thoroughly stripped him of his self-esteem?

She led the boy farther from the others. “Now, I know that’s not true. But I also know that what I think doesn’t matter. It’s what you believe that counts.” She stole a look at his face. It had relaxed a little. “Something I try to remember when I have negative thoughts about myself is that it takes a long time to become the person we want to be. It’s not a road we can race down, but one we have to walk every step of the way.”

Justin nodded slightly. “Didn’t mean to do anything wrong.”

“I know that.”

He sniffed. “I saw everybody taking flowers, and my mom loves roses, and I just thought no one would miss a couple extra. She’s been real sad lately.”

“Okay, here’s what we do. Give me the flowers, and I’ll put them back. Then after school we’ll go and get some nice fresh ones at Stybr’s Florist. Okay?”

He nodded and thrust the bouquet into her arms. Skye walked back to the casket. Nearly everyone had left, heading back to town for the funeral luncheon. She quickly tucked the roses into one of the vases and hurried to the bus.

The students had already boarded, and their mood was now more relaxed. They had an air of having completed something, and now they were moving on.

Skye sat and listened as the bus inched its way forward, caught in a line of vehicles trying to exit the single-lane road.

One of the younger girls said to her seatmate, “Lorelei was so perfect. She was beautiful and smart and really, really nice to everyone. She reminded me of Princess Diana. Why do all the best people die?”

One of the senior girls turned and skewered the freshman with a look. “Lorelei was a real bitch. And it just galled me to see how she fooled all you children.”

Another senior girl turned in her seat and joined in. “Yeah, all you saw was the Miss Goody Two-shoes act. You didn’t see the dirty tricks she played to stay on top.”

The first senior said, “I was doing Humorous Interpretation for the speech team. I’d finaled both my freshman and sophomore years and was sure I could win my junior year, but Lorelei decided she wanted to do Humor, and Miss Cormorant just shoved me into Prose.”

“I know the feeling,” another girl added. “I had a part in the musical, and during one of the rehearsals my lines got some laughs, and Sleeping Beauty wasn’t the star for a minute and a half. Suddenly, my character had no dialogue.”

Skye let the words whirl around her. It seemed as if Lorelei had fooled the teachers and the younger students, but the girls in her own class had seen her inner self. Instead of being Sleeping Beauty, maybe Lorelei had been the evil fairy.

That explained the lack of true grief Skye had witnessed while working with Lorelei’s so-called closest friends. She had thought that the incident with Frannie not making cheerleading because of Lorelei was an isolated one, but it sounded like it was the norm.

The bus reached the main road and started to pick up speed. Skye twisted in her seat and tried to hear what Lorelei’s clique was saying. Zoë was draped over Troy, whispering in his ear. He wore a goofy grin. Skye caught his eye and frowned, shaking her head. He pulled slowly away and said something to the girl. She shot Skye a malevolent look. Skye would take odds they hadn’t been talking about Lorelei.

Caresse and Farrah were seated together, and Skye zeroed in on their conversation. “She was an angel. One time I broke my nail right before the big game, and she glued it back on for me. She even touched up the polish with her very own bottle.”

Farrah nodded. “I know what you mean. Around Christmas I was gaining a little weight and she helped me. She took me aside and told me no one likes fat girls, and I’d better start doing what she did or I’d be as big as Fat Frannie.”