Murder of the Cat's Meow: A Scumble River Mystery (18 page)

“Well…” The brunette paused, then twitched her shoulders. “It’s worth a try.” She shook her head. “If he’s not talking by the time his father gets home, my husband will smack him with a rolled-up newspaper.”

Skye did a double take and barely stopped herself from commenting. That one sentence explained so much about Alvin’s behavior. Why had his mother never mentioned it before? Did she honestly not realize that her husband’s conduct might be influencing her son’s actions?

Realizing she’d been lost in thought, Skye recovered and asked, “How about you, Mrs. Canetti? Are you willing to take my suggestion?”

“Sure.” The blonde picked up her purse from the floor and stood. “A tube of antibiotic ointment is a heck of a lot cheaper than a visit to the doctor, which is about my only other option.”

Once the women had departed, Skye explained to Caroline about Homer’s problem and requested permission to leave the elementary school as soon as she checked on Clifford. Caroline agreed. Pausing at the secretary’s desk on her way out, Skye asked Fern if she could use the phone.

Having decided that Neva’s issue was the least urgent, Skye called her and wheedled permission to make the Doozier delivery tomorrow. Normally, she would have offered to take the homework to Junior after work, but she figured that Wally might want her to accompany him to interview Fawn that afternoon.

Neva granted Skye’s request to spend the afternoon at the high school. However, she wasn’t pleased that Skye would miss her regular stint at the junior high, and told Skye to inform Homer that she expected reciprocal consideration the next time she needed Skye’s presence on a day the psychologist was supposed to be at his school.

Skye considered it best to speak to the Pass Out game girls as a group, so when she arrived at the high school and found out she was still lacking one consent form, she pacified Homer about the delayed intervention by proposing that she write a letter that he could send to all parents that afternoon via their students.

She promised Homer that in the note she would clarify what had happened during the slumber party, offer recommendations as to what to look for if they were worried their kids might be participating in the game, and include a list of ways to discuss the dangerous pastime with their teenagers. She also swore she would conclude the document with a paragraph assuring the parents that the school was aware of the situation and was dealing with the students involved.

It took Skye the rest of the day to do the research and write the letter—then rewrite it again and again until
Homer approved. Just before quitting time, she finally reached the mother of the one girl who still had not turned in her counseling consent form. The woman promised to drop off the permission slip herself the next morning since her daughter kept “forgetting” to bring it to school.

Feeling as if she’d been on a supersonic bullet train all day, Skye was so relieved to drive out of the high school parking lot that she forgot that Wally had asked her to call him when she got off work. Ordinarily she would just stop by the station, but he’d explained that it was best for her to phone, since he wasn’t sure where he’d be or what they’d need to do regarding the investigation.

Pulling over to the side of the road, Skye turned on her cell. As soon as the device powered up, she saw that there was a voice mail from Wally.

After pressing multiple buttons, she finally persuaded her phone to play Wally’s message. “Sugar, I have to go to Laurel to talk to the chief there about Fawn Irving. I’ll be in touch as soon as I get back, which should be before six.”

Skye smiled to herself. That meant she finally had time to visit her parents. She hadn’t had a chance to see them since Wally had told her about May’s change of heart regarding their marriage, and she wanted to talk to her mom before May planned the whole wedding without her.

Normally Skye’s mother worked afternoons at the PD, which meant May was usually just starting her shift when Skye was leaving school. However, she knew her mom had taken Wednesday off this week to attend a special meeting of her knitting group that night.

Since Skye didn’t knit, she had no idea why a special meeting would be needed—maybe a new way to purl had been discovered—and she didn’t care. As long as it meant May would be home, it was all good.

Skye’s parents lived a few miles east of town, off a two-lane blacktop. In the spring, summer, and fall it was a pleasant drive, but during the winter, the trip could be a terrifying experience. After a snowstorm, cars slid into the ditch like pucks across an air hockey table.

Skye had a December birthday, and the first time she drove down that road after getting her license, she managed to flip her cousin’s old Volkswagen. When she and her cousin had crawled out of the passenger-side window, the Beetle had looked like an upside-down turtle. It was a miracle that neither of them was injured.

The sound of her tires crunching the white pea gravel on her parents’ well-tended driveway interrupted Skye’s journey down memory lane. Her father’s old blue pickup was missing from its normal place in front of the garage, which meant Jed was probably still working somewhere on the farm.

Considering the cold, rainy weather they’d had this March, he wouldn’t be in the field planting yet, so he was probably in the machine shed getting the tractors ready for the season. Either that or doing one of the hundred other chores that comprised a farmer’s life.

Skye gazed over the acre of property that was her parents’ pride and joy. During the spring and summer, Jed kept the lawn in better shape than a lot of golf course putting greens, but today the only signs of life were a row of bright yellow daffodils under the picture window and the purple crocuses around the miniature windmill.

As Skye got out of the Bel Air and walked toward the back patio, she noticed that her mother’s concrete goose was dressed in a diaper and bib, with a blue ruffled cap on its head, a pacifier held in one wing and a baby bottle in the other.
Shoot!
The fowl’s attire reflected May’s desires, and Skye had been hoping for an Easter Bunny costume. She would have settled for a wedding gown.

Trust her mother to skip the wedding and zero in on
the grandchild she so desperately wanted. Skye frowned, then mentally slapped herself. The whole world did not revolve around her. The bird’s costume was probably intended as a hint for her newly married brother and his wife.

Still, Skye girded herself for battle as she opened the back door of the redbrick house. It was always difficult to predict her mother’s frame of mind, and Skye liked to be prepared for the worst.

Entering the large kitchen, which was bisected by a counter edged with two stools, Skye noticed that, as always, the taupe floor tiles were pristine, the dark brown granite countertop was spotless, and the white sink and chrome faucet sparkled as if they were brand-new. Dirt and grime didn’t stand a chance against May’s elbow grease. And dust bunnies quaked in terror of her vacuum.

Pots were bubbling on the stove, but Skye spotted her mother standing by the opposite wall talking on the phone. May gestured that she’d be only a minute, and Skye opened the refrigerator. She made a moue of distaste. Her mom’s preference for Pepsi products over Coke never ceased to amaze her. Still, she was thirsty, so she grabbed a bottle of soda from the shelf, poured some into a tumbler, added ice, and took a seat at the round glass table in the dinette.

May hung up the receiver and said, “That was your brother.” She opened the oven and slid a cookie sheet of dinner rolls onto the wire rack. “Vince is such a good boy. He calls me every afternoon before I go to work to see how Dad and I are and to tell me what he wants for lunch the next day.”

“How are he and Loretta doing?” Skye had long ago accepted that Vince could do no wrong in her mother’s eyes, but the fact that May didn’t bring Skye her lunch still hurt a little. “I haven’t seen them since Dad’s birthday.”

“They’re fine.” May closed the oven door and set the timer. “They’ve decided to build since they couldn’t find a house they like.”

“That’s nice.” Skye had wondered if that would happen. It was a sacrifice for Loretta to move from Chicago to Scumble River, and she knew Vince would do whatever it took to make her happy there. “Have they found the property they want yet?”

“Dad’s giving them an acre of that farmland he bought a couple years ago.”

“Great.” Skye got up and leaned against the counter. “That will save them a bundle.”

“When you’re ready to build, you can have an acre out there, too.” May added salt to the contents of one of the simmering pots. “Wally told me his annulment should be finished in a month or so, and I know he doesn’t want to live in that old place of yours. Something is always blowing up, catching on fire, or flooding in that house.”

S
kye felt stunned by her mother’s declaration, but knew May well enough to make her clarify her assertion. “Did Wally actually say he didn’t want to move in to my place, or are you assuming he doesn’t want to live there because you don’t like old houses?”

Skye had been hoping that Wally was unaware of, or at least not bothered by, Mrs. Griggs’s antics, but she might have been deceiving herself. He’d always seemed more amused than upset when each new catastrophe occurred. Could he have fooled her into thinking he wasn’t perturbed by the ghost’s tricks?

“I don’t assume.” May drew herself up until her five-foot-two frame seemed to tower over her much taller daughter. “He said, and I quote, ‘Skye’s poured so much money and energy into that house, I’d like to build her a new one that has everything she’s ever wanted.’”

“That’s really sweet of him.” Skye ran Wally’s words through her mind, then smiled. May’s understanding of what Wally had said wasn’t the only way to interpret his statement. Since he didn’t believe that the previous owner was haunting them, maybe he thought the house was in worse shape than it really was.

“He’s a practical guy,” May commented, her lips pressed into a thin line. “He’s learned the hard way that an unhappy wife is a recipe for disaster, and he won’t make that mistake again.”

“That’s one way of looking at it,” Skye admitted. “However, I think what he meant is that he wants me to be happy—and I love my house.”

“Maybe.” May wiped an imaginary spot off the countertop next to the stove. “But you should still let him build you your dream house.”

“Why?” Skye took a swig of soda. “We can finish fixing up my place for half of what new construction would cost. I already did the roof and shingles, as well as the plumbing and electrical work. And I just finished remodeling the kitchen and master bath. Those projects were the most expensive renovations.”

“Wally can afford to give you the best.” May took the makings for a tossed salad from the fridge and started peeling carrots, ignoring Skye’s arguments.

“How do you—” Skye stopped herself just in time and changed what she had been about to say to, “How do you get the carrot shreds so thin?”

While May explained her culinary technique, questions raced through Skye’s mind. Had her mother found out that Wally was the son of a Texas oil multimillionaire—which would explain her sudden second thoughts regarding his suitability as Skye’s groom?

Or did she mean that as the chief of police he made a good salary? Having grown up poor, then lived the life of a farm wife for the past forty years, May would consider Wally’s income a lot of money.

As far as Skye knew, she was the only one in town that Wally had told about his father’s wealth. However, his ex-wife had known, and she’d visited Scumble River a few months ago. Could Darleen have told May? The two women weren’t exactly buddies, but…

No. If her mother had had any inkling of Wally’s family’s wealth, she would have blurted it out long ago. May wasn’t the subtle type.

Having decided that there had to be another explanation for her mother’s sudden about-face regarding Wally, Skye brought the conversation around to the real purpose of her visit. “So, Mom, since you and Dad are now offering us land to build a house, I guess you’ve changed your mind about my fiancé.”

“Well.” May looked over Skye’s shoulder, refusing to meet her daughter’s eyes.

It was a well-known fact that May hated admitting that she might have made a mistake. Actually, now they she thought about it, Skye couldn’t remember hearing her mother say the words “I was wrong”—ever.

“Yes?” Skye was not about to let this opportunity pass. May had put both her and Wally through too much hell the past two and a half years for Skye to allow her mother to pretend it had never happened. “So, what made you decide it was okay for me to marry Wally?”

“For heaven’s sake,” May huffed, “I don’t know why you have to make such a big deal out of everything.” She sneaked a peek at her daughter. “It’s not as if I disowned you when you got engaged to him.”

“No.” Skye raised a brow. “You only pretended it was a phase I was going through, and kept throwing Simon in my face any chance you got.”

“I just wanted to make sure you picked the right guy.” May arranged the lettuce, carrots, and cherry tomatoes in three salad bowls, concentrating on the task as if she were about to enter her creations in an art show. “Simon seemed more your type. You always liked boys who could discuss books and stuff with you.”