Murder of the Cat's Meow: A Scumble River Mystery (11 page)

“Parents need to keep those kids off the Internet.”
Homer’s tone was exasperated. “Don’t those girls realize they could die?”

“That’s part of the thrill.” Skye took a deep breath, then clarified. “For one thing, adolescents don’t have a firm grasp of their own mortality. Then there’s the whole peer pressure factor.”

Homer grunted, clearly not understanding.

“And topping it all off, today’s teenagers have seen so much outrageous behavior from actors and singers and athletes, they think they need to push the envelope themselves in order to be ‘with it.’”

“I’ve been getting calls since yesterday morning wanting to know what the school is going to do about this matter.” Homer lumbered to his feet. “Once again, the parents expect us to do their job.”

“That’s not fair,” Skye objected. “Parenting is difficult.”

“Parenting is easy.” Homer shook his head. “It’s the freaking kids that make it hard.”

Skye rolled her eyes. Homer’s lack of compassion was astounding, but she tried to explain. “Frequently moms and dads have no idea how to handle an issue like this.” She added, “I’m glad they’re letting us know it’s a problem and asking for our help.”

“Since you’re so thrilled to be included, you can contact all the parents on this list, tell them you’ll be taking charge of this matter, and present the results of your intervention to the school board.”

Great!
Skye knew she was the logical person to deal with the situation, and in fact she wanted to, but she was also the logical person to handle hundreds of other issues. Where would she find the time for everything?

S
kye eighty-sixed her plans to begin Zach Van Stee’s reevaluation and instead spent the rest of the morning on the phone contacting parents. Their reactions were mixed. Most were happy to have Skye talk to their daughters about the dangers of games such as Pass Out, but a couple of them took quite a bit of persuasion. And Ashley Yates’s folks refused even to consider the matter.

Troy Yates Sr. was president of the First National Bank and thus accustomed to being the one in charge. Furthermore, he was still angry with the school, and with Skye in particular, for an unflattering article about Ashley that had run in the school newspaper a few semesters ago. All that, along with the fact that Ashley was a fifth-year senior, having failed several courses when she was a junior, and there was no changing Mr. Yates’s mind.

It was nearly noon by the time Skye finished the last call, and she was due at the grade school at twelve thirty. With the clock ticking, she hurriedly filled out the counseling permission slips for the eleven girls whose parents
had
agreed to let her see their daughters, rushed out of her office and down the hall.

Since Skye didn’t have time to hand out the documents herself, she was asking Opal Hill, the school secretary, to make sure the girls received the consent forms before they went home that afternoon when Trixie approached the front counter.

“Where have you been?” Trixie asked Skye. She had recently decided to write a mystery novel in hopes of becoming the twenty-first-century Agatha Christie, so her next question made sense to Skye: “And why didn’t you call me after you found that body yesterday? It sounds like a great plot for my book.”

“I’m sorry.” Skye crossed her fingers. “After I got done at the police station, I was just too exhausted to talk about it all again.” In truth, she hadn’t even thought to phone Trixie. She’d been too worried about Elijah, and too upset about the whole situation to discuss it—even with her BFF.

“Come, tell me now.” Trixie grabbed Skye’s hand and tried to tug her down the hall. Which, considering that Trixie was five inches shorter and quite a bit lighter, wasn’t very effective.

“I can’t.” Skye refused to budge, freeing her hand and heading toward the front door. “I’m due at the elementary school in fifteen minutes.”

“Can’t you be a tiny bit late?” Trixie called after her. “I made chocolate cupcakes over the weekend, and I brought you one,” she coaxed. “It has lots of your favorite buttercream vanilla icing on top.”

“Well…” Skye hesitated. She was starving, and had forgotten to pack a lunch. “Maybe a couple of minutes. I really should fill you in on an issue that concerns your cheerleaders.”

“Is there a problem?” Trixie immediately sobered. As cheerleading coach, she usually knew any mischief
her girls were up to. “I haven’t heard anything.” She ran her hands through her short faun-colored hair, making it stick up like peaks of meringue. “Are they okay?”

Skye filled her in as they walked toward the library, then added, “So I’m talking to all the girls tomorrow, with the exception of Ashley, whose parents refused to give their consent. Maybe you can get her to bring up the subject, and since you’re not a psychologist you don’t need permission, which means it wouldn’t be a problem if you two had a chat.”

“Sure.” The two women entered the library’s storeroom and climbed on stools pulled up to the worktable. “She’s my student aide second hour.”

Trixie pulled a square Tupperware container toward her, pried off the lid, and offered it to Skye. “So, tell me everything about the murder.”

Skye summarized the weekend’s events around bites of cupcake, ending with, “Then I went into the basement’s utility closet to clean Bingo up, and there was Alexis lying dead on the floor.”

“From what you’ve said”—Trixie swallowed the last crumb of her cupcake, and reached for another—“she was nearly universally disliked.”

“So it seems.” Skye licked icing off her fingers, grabbed her tote, and stood up.

“Do you think the murderer is that peculiar ex-doctor?” Trixie asked.

“I hope not.” Skye edged toward the door, checking her watch. If she hurried, there was a chance that Caroline Greer, the grade school principal, wouldn’t notice that she was late. “At least five others had good reasons that I know about to dislike Alexis.”

“The guy from speed dating, the jewelry maker, the twins, and the cat breeder,” Trixie ticked off, following Skye through the library.

“Uh-huh.” Skye hurried down the hall toward the lobby. “And there’s a good chance there are others I’m not aware of.”

“True.” Trixie trotted after Skye. “She sure sounds like a mean girl who never changed, so it could even be someone from her past.”

“Probably not.” Skye pushed through the front door. “Bunny had bouncers at the entrance so no one but cat show and speed-dating participants could attend the bowler disco party.”

“This is almost like a locked-room mystery,” Trixie called after Skye. “They’re the best kind.”

Skye had been able to sneak into the elementary school without running into the principal. And Caroline didn’t mention her tardiness when they met for the special education intake conference later that afternoon, so it appeared Skye was in the clear.

Classes ended at three thirty, but the staff was required to stay an additional twenty minutes. Typically Skye was among the last to leave, but today she beat everyone out the door—even the teacher who was retiring in two months and was usually the first to pull out of the parking lot.

As Skye stepped across the PD’s threshold into the lobby, she noticed a young woman sitting on the bench, and stopped in midstride. “Spike Yamaguchi! When did you get into town?”

“About an hour ago.” Spike stood and smoothed her trouser-cut jeans.

Spike was Simon’s half sister—a sibling he hadn’t known existed until she was sixteen and contacted him after her adoptive parents were killed in a car crash. Simon had been shocked to discover that Bunny, who had left him and his father in order to pursue her dream of becoming a dancer, had had a secret baby.

Spike gave Skye a hug. “Sorry I didn’t e-mail you that I was coming.”

“That’s okay,” Skye assured her. “It’s great to see you.”

Their friendship had had a shaky start. When they first met, Skye was convinced that Spike and Simon were having an affair. It hadn’t helped matters that that mistaken belief had exposed other problems in Skye and Simon’s relationship, which had in turn ended it. Still, despite everything, once Spike’s true relationship with Simon was fully explained, Skye and Spike had become good friends.

“Are you here to visit your mom?” Skye asked.

“Yes and no. Remember I told you about the gig at the TV station in Chicago?” Spike was an investigative reporter for a newspaper in California, but she had been actively pursuing a television career.

“Of course.” Skye had respected Spike’s request to keep the possibility of her relocation to Illinois from Bunny and Simon. “I’ve had my fingers crossed for you.”

“Thanks.” Spike’s delicate features, a blend of Asian and European, relaxed into a smile. “Anyway, I found out Thursday afternoon that I got the job! But the catch was they wanted me on the air by the weekend. So I threw a few things in a suitcase and flew into O’Hare the next day. Grandfather will follow once I get settled.”

“Wow!” Skye shook her head in awe. “You really travel fast and light.”

“Yep.” Spike sat back down, then continued, “On Saturday when I was going through my predecessors’ desk, I found a tip about government corruption in an Illinois small town. He’d scribbled a note that said no one was interested in a downstate scandal and shoved it in a drawer.” Spike made a face. “I disagreed, and when I showed it to my new boss, she concurred. Which is why I’m here.”

“What town are you investigating?” Skye asked as she sat next to Spike on the bench.

Spike didn’t answer right away, and Skye held her breath. If it was Scumble River, her family was in for a hard time. Skye’s uncle was the mayor, which pretty much put her whole family smack-dab in the middle of every new controversy in town.

“Not here, but that’s all I can say.” Spike’s voice had sharpened. “I can’t risk being scooped. This could be a big story for me.”

“No problem. As long as it isn’t my hometown, I’m happy.” Skye gave her a thumbs-up. “Are you at the PD to ask questions for your story?”

“No.” Spike shook her head and her straight black hair swung back and forth. “I’m waiting for Bunny to get done. The chief is interviewing her about Saturday’s murder.”

Skye frowned. “I thought he was going to talk to her last night.”

“I gather he couldn’t find her.” Spike raised a feathery brow.

“Oh?”

“Bunny pulled into her garage just as I got out of my rental car this afternoon,” Spike explained. “Apparently, since the bowling alley was closed yesterday and she didn’t have to work, she didn’t spend the night at home. From what I overheard when the chief arrived a few minutes later, Bunny had her cell phone turned off as well.”

“Ah.” Skye tilted her head, thinking. Was Bunny with the man Skye had seen her join after the speed-dating event? She had forgotten to mention him to Wally. “When did you and she get to the station?”

“About forty-five minutes ago.” Spike crossed her legs, swinging her foot impatiently.

Skye looked at her watch. It was three fifty-seven, and Wally was expecting her at four. She’d better let him know she had arrived.

“Can you check on how much longer Bunny will be?” Spike asked.

“Sure, I can do that.” Skye stood, patted Spike on the shoulder, then walked toward the inner door. “Let me go see what’s happening.”

Using her key to enter the restricted area of the PD, Skye stepped into the narrow hallway. To her immediate right was the dispatcher’s office, and she stuck her head around the open doorway. She had thought it odd that her mother hadn’t greeted her at the counter when she walked into the lobby, but now she saw why. May held two phones to her ears, and she was talking on both.

Skye waved to her mother, who raised her eyebrows questioningly and pointed to her daughter’s cheek.

Mouthing the words “cleaning accident,” Skye crossed her fingers. Housework was the one activity her mother would think justified sustaining an injury.

May raised her chin in acknowledgment, then refocused on her dual conversations. The scowl on her face made Skye wonder if May was dealing with the press. Skye didn’t think the murder of a cat show judge would bring out the media, but if it was a slow news day, anything was possible.

When Skye reached the coffee/interrogation room, she knocked on the partially open door and Wally motioned her inside. Bunny, engaged in a battle to the death with the soda machine, ignored her.

Silently, Skye took a seat next to Wally at the table, and they both stared wordlessly at the redhead, who was feverishly pushing buttons and cursing. Each time a can didn’t appear in the dispenser, Bunny stabbed the buttons harder and swore louder.

Today she was wearing a black and gold satin halter dress with a smocked bodice and a mid-thigh-length
handkerchief hem. Suddenly Bunny stamped her gold four-inch-high stilettos, and Skye flinched as she heard something snap. She hoped it was the heel and not the redhead’s ankle.

Finally, Bunny wrestled a can of Jolt from the recalcitrant machine and joined Skye and Wally. She slumped into a chair and immediately popped the top, breaking one of her fuchsia-tipped nails. She swore, bit off the remainder of the nail, then shrugged and took a long gulp of the highly caffeinated soda. After a couple more hits of caffeine, she leaned back and closed her eyes.