Murder of the Cat's Meow: A Scumble River Mystery (29 page)

“That’s it.” Spike leaped from her chair, scattering her papers and dumping an outraged Bingo from her lap “Sorry, boy,” she apologized.

“Hiss!” The feline’s response was sharp as he ran from the room.

“Now I’ve got Mayor Urick right where I want him.” Spike pulled Skye to her feet, hugged her, and danced her around the kitchen.

After Spike had calmed down and picked up her strewn documents, they discussed what Skye had seen in more detail. Once Spike had wrung every last scrap of information from Skye, she leaned back and smiled. “Now that I have leverage, this is going to be fun.”

Skye agreed. Then, at the urging of her growling stomach, she got up and opened the refrigerator. Peering inside, she asked, “Are you hungry?”

“Starving.”

“There’s not much in here,” Skye reported, “but I’ve got a pepperoni and mushroom pizza in the freezer. Is that okay with you?”

“My favorite.”

While they ate, the two women discussed their mothers, their jobs, and their cats. Skye had considered asking Spike to be a bridesmaid, but since her friend was also Simon’s half sister, it might be awkward, so she contented herself with inviting the younger woman to the wedding. She intended to ask Bunny, too, though she was undecided whether to invite Simon.

It was nearly ten when Spike left, and a few minutes
later Wally walked in the door. While he finished up the leftover pizza and drank a bottle of Sam Adams, Skye jogged his memory about Spike’s story. Once he was reminded of her investigation, Skye told him about the merchandise she had seen in the storage locker.

“If the Viderville board is guilty, I hope Spike nails them,” Wally said, draining his beer. “There’s nothing more despicable than a dishonest politician.”

“Betrayal of the public trust should be a hanging offense,” Skye agreed.

While they watched the late news, Wally said, “I was thinking that since we’ve arrested Jacobsen and the case is closed, you and I should go somewhere for a weekend getaway. How does Starved Rock State Park sound? There’s the main lodge and a couple of other resorts in the area. We could do a little hiking and have some time alone.”

“Perfect.” Skye snuggled against his side and kissed his cheek. “I’ll ask Trixie to come over and feed Bingo while we’re gone.”

“I’ll call now and see if I can get a room.” Wally took out his cell.

“Wonderful.”

It took a couple of calls, but Wally eventually reported, “Check-in is at four, so we should probably leave here about noon. We can swing by my place so I can grab a few things, then stop somewhere along I-80 for lunch. Morris or Ottawa would be good.”

“That means we don’t have to set the alarm.” Skye stretched. “I’m exhausted.”

“Me, too.” Wally yawned.

Upstairs, Skye dawdled in the bathroom until she was sure Wally was asleep. She was afraid of what Mrs. Griggs might pull if they tried to make love. Crawling into bed beside him, she made a mental note to ask Father Burns about an exorcism. The ghost was ruining her love life, and it had to stop.

S
kye and Wally slept until nine thirty the next morning. Then as they lingered over a late breakfast, she noticed something on the floor, wedged between a cupboard and the stove. Curious, she got up, walked across the kitchen, and fished it out of the crevice.

“What’s that?” Wally looked up from the newspaper as she sat back down. Since he’d begun spending the night more frequently, he’d ordered Skye a subscription to the
Chicago Tribune
.

“A picture that Spike had in her small-town corruption file. It’s a photograph of the Viderville city board.” Skye laid the glossy page on the table and pointed to the group portrait. “Her folder fell to the floor yesterday when she jumped up to hug me, and she must not have seen the snapshot when she picked up the other documents.”

“Oh.” He turned back to the business section. “Do you think she needs it?”

“Probably not.” Skye ran her finger over the shiny paper, smoothing the creases, then leaned closer.
Hmm
. Why did the mayor look familiar?

“If you’re finished eating, you’d better start getting
ready.” Wally put aside the sports page and picked up the book section. “I know how long it takes you to decide what to wear, so I’m sure packing will be a lengthy process.”

“What?” Skye stared at the photograph, not listening to Wally. Before he could repeat himself, she said, “I think that Viderville’s mayor was the deejay at Bunny’s bowler disco party. Isn’t that odd?”

“Not really.” Wally shrugged. “Lots of people moonlight.”

“But he was wearing a wig and had a beard when he was at the bowling alley.” Skye fetched a black marker from her junk drawer and added a beard and DJ Wonka’s elaborate hairstyle to the picture of the bald mayor.

“He probably wears it to keep his personas separate,” Wally countered.

“I suppose that could be it.” Skye got up and cleared the table; then when another thought hit her, she froze with her hand on the faucet. “Bunny said DJ Wonka was from Chicago. I’m sure the mayor of Viderville has to live in town, so he fibbed to her about that.”

“I’ll bet he thinks people will be more likely to hire someone from the city, so he lies about where he lives.” This time Wally’s explanation didn’t sound as confident as his previous two excuses.

“True, but don’t you think if an area mayor was also a deejay, we’d have heard about it? I mean, surely the local paper would have done a story. And the
Star
covers news from Viderville as well as Clay Center and Brooklyn.”

“Why are you so interested in this guy?” Almost before he finished his sentence, Wally shook his head. “Let me guess—you’re still not convinced that Jacobsen is the murderer.”

“No, I’m not. Convinced, that is.” Skye crossed her arms. “He didn’t even know how she was killed. He claimed to have stabbed her.”

“I admit that has been troubling me, too,” Wally said.
“But why did he confess? It certainly isn’t for the fame, which is what fuels most false confessions. No one around here seems very interested since the vic wasn’t a celebrity and wasn’t from town.”

“People with Elijah’s type of brain injury are very suggestible.” Skye pursed her lips, thinking. “Maybe somebody told him to.”

“God?” Wally quirked an eyebrow. “Seriously? You’re suggesting that God told Jacobsen to admit to a crime he didn’t commit?”

“Of course not.” Skye blew a raspberry. “But I do think we should call Bunny and see how she came to hire DJ Wonka in the first place.”

“Maybe you’re right. I haven’t been happy with the resolution of this case, but between the county prosecutor being satisfied with Jacobsen’s confession and no other leads to follow, there wasn’t much more I could do.” Wally pulled his cell phone from his pocket, and dialed. After identifying himself to Bunny, he asked, “How did you find the deejay for your bowler disco party?”

Skye strained to catch the other side of the conversation, but could hear only Wally’s responses, which consisted of, “Oh. I see. That was convenient. Uh-huh.”

When he disconnected, Wally turned to Skye with a thoughtful expression. “It seems DJ Wonka contacted Bunny and applied for the job. She says he did it for free.”

“Which together with everything else seems strange,” Skye commented. Suddenly, snippets of conversations in which she’d taken part were sliding into place like the last Legos of a complicated structure. “You know, a group of girls at the high school said that they’d heard the music sucked. That it was as if the guy had never deejayed before.”

“Well, that’s certainly interesting.” Wally stroked his chin.

“Did Bunny ask for references or question him as to why he wanted to work without pay?”

“He told her that he’d heard some of the judges were bartering their services in exchange for the chance to participate in the cat show and speed dating and he’d like the same deal.” Wally pursed his lips. “But he didn’t take part in the activities. He hung around, but he didn’t enter a cat in the show or sign up for the speed dating or attend the awards brunch.”

“Did he go to the after party at the Brown Bag?”

“No.” Wally got up. “In fact, Bunny said he didn’t socialize at all.”

“Did he have any other alibi for the time of the murder?”

“No. All the servers had alibis, but the bartender, bouncer, and deejay didn’t.” Wally paced the length of the kitchen. “Since they had no contact with the vic, I didn’t think they were viable suspects, so I put them at the bottom of the list.”

“Which was reasonable at the time,” Skye assured him. “You have limited resources and you needed to use the manpower you had to investigate the most likely suspects.”

“Maybe.” Wally walked back and forth. “However, now I’m beginning to think I should have scrutinized this deejay/mayor guy more closely.”

“That’s easy to see now, but you didn’t have all the information when you reached your original decision.” Skye hated to see Wally beating himself up over a choice most people in his position would have made.

He shrugged, clearly not convinced.

A few seconds ticked by. Then Skye narrowed her eyes as another piece of the puzzle slipped into its slot. “Frannie mentioned that Alexis’s last temp job was for a city official. What if she worked for Mayor Urick and somehow discovered his embezzlement scheme?”

“That would give him motive, and we’ve established he had means and opportunity.”

“Holy crap! We need to stop Spike before she confronts him.” Skye checked the clock above the sink. “It’s ten fifty-five. She’s probably already in Viderville.”

Skye searched frantically for Spike’s cell number—why hadn’t she programmed it into her phone? She finally located the scrap of paper she’d written it on, stuck in her address book, and dialed it while Wally put on his loafers and fetched Skye’s Keds.

She was slipping the tennis shoes on when the call went directly into Spike’s voice mail. She shot Wally a worried look.

He nodded and said, “We’d better get over to Viderville and see if she’s okay.”

They rushed outside and jumped into Wally’s Thunderbird. Once they were buckled up, he threw the sports car into gear and they tore out of the driveway. Skye held on to the dashboard and watched the speedometer climb.

After a few seconds, Skye caught her breath and asked, “Should we call the Viderville police chief? Maybe he could check things out.”

“No.” Wally concentrated on the road. “We can’t be sure Chief Eden isn’t mixed up with the embezzlement. I can’t imagine how the mayor would pull it off without someone on the PD being in on the scheme.”

“Maybe I should call city hall and ask to speak to Spike.” Skye hated sitting and doing nothing while her friend might be in danger. “I could tell her to get out, or at least to wait for us before she talks to the mayor.”

“Go ahead and give it a try, but unless Urick is keeping her cooling her heels, she’s already with him. Because if what we suspect about him is true, I doubt he wants her sitting around the waiting room talking to city employees. Or anyone else.”

A couple of minutes later Skye reported, “No one’s
answering. I tried three times and the machine always picks up. The message says that due to a gas leak, city hall is closed for the weekend.”

“Son of a buck!” Wally tightened his grip on the wheel and pressed down harder on the accelerator. “That doesn’t sound good at all.”

“Do you think the mayor cleared everyone out so he can get rid of Spike if it turns out she knows too much?” Skye felt her stomach clench. If only she’d put the pieces together earlier.

“It crossed my mind.”

Wally made the fifteen-mile drive in less than ten minutes.

When he parked the T-Bird, Skye asked, “Why didn’t you pull into one of the spaces in front of the city hall? They were all open.”

“Exactly.” Wally reached into the glove box and withdrew a black calfskin case and a small flashlight. His gun was already in a holster under his leather jacket. He tucked the case and the light into the pocket of his jeans. “If our car is the only one sitting there, the police might run its plates. And when they come back to me, they might mention it to their chief, who might—”

“Contact the mayor,” Skye said, finishing his sentence. “Gotcha.”

Wally took her hand as she got out of the Ford. “We’re going to casually stroll by the front entrance and scope out the situation.”

There were only a couple of people around. The city hall was on a side street, and the businesses nearby were mostly law offices, real estate firms, and insurance agencies. Skye hesitated when she saw a
CLOSED
sign on the door, but Wally didn’t break his stride, tugging her along and then walking her around the corner.

“What do we do now?” she asked when they were safely out of sight.

“This way.” Wally led her toward the back of the building to an unmarked door. “Stand in front of me and pretend we’re having a fight.”

“Why?” Skye asked, as he drew the leather case he’d taken from the car out of his pocket. Then: “Those are lock picks, aren’t they?”

“Yep.”

“Where did you get them?” She moved into place, blocking Wally’s actions from the view of anyone who might happen to glance down the alley.