Murder of a Barbie and Ken (24 page)

Before Skye could answer, her mother declared, “It doesn’t do anything for me, does it?”

The dress hung loosely on May’s small frame. “It’s too big.” Skye tilted her head. “Why don’t I get an eight?” May had insisted on trying on a twelve.

“Then it would be too tight.” May’s expression was stubborn. “Let me try on the other one and see if I like it.”

“Go ahead. I’ll be right here.” Skye resumed her seat.

The second dress fit a lot better—but May concluded the neckline was too low. Skye’s suggestion of a scarf was vetoed, and May decided they should go on to the next store.

As they neared an escalator, Skye spotted Polly Turner descending. Grabbing her mom’s arm, she said, “I need to talk to someone. I’ll meet you at Penney’s.”

“Why can’t I go with you?”

“You’d be bored.” Skye strained to keep Polly in sight. “I’ll meet you in the petite dress section in ten minutes.”

May muttered, but took off down the corridor.

Skye hurried to catch Polly as she stepped off the escalator. She linked her arm with the older woman’s and said, “Polly, what a nice surprise.”

“Well, hi. I think all of Scumble River is here today.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me.” Skye maneuvered Polly to a bench, and they sat down. “I know you’re probably in a hurry, but I wanted to ask you something.”

“Oh?” Polly turned to Skye, a bright note of query in her eyes. “What?”

“I was admiring the artwork on your nails.” Skye took the other woman’s hand and held it up. “I love those cute little parrots. I’ve never seen anyone else with those.”

Polly puffed out her chest. “And you won’t. Those are my original design. I drive all the way to Joliet to have them done.”

“Really? Do you always have parrots painted on your nails, or do you have other things, too?”

“Only parrots. They’re my trademark. Because of my name.”

Skye nodded her understanding. “That’s actually very interesting, because Charlie Patukas told me he found one of those nails in a cabin he had rented to Ken Addison for a couple of hours.”

Polly’s face stiffened. “You must be mistaken.”

“No. Uncle Charlie said that normally Dr. Addison was very careful to remove any trace of who he’d shared the cabin with, but this time there was a nail caught in one of the towels.”

“That doesn’t prove anything.”

“I think it proves that before he died, you were Dr. Addison’s mistress.”

Polly gripped Skye’s arm, her nails biting into the flesh. “Please, you can’t tell anyone. If Nate found out, he’d kill me.”

Skye freed her arm, her response automatic. “Are you sure he doesn’t already know? Maybe he’s the one who murdered the Addisons.”

“No,” Polly whispered. “Nate has a terrible temper, but he would never …” She trailed off, perhaps realizing that indeed he might.

“I’m sorry”—Skye stood up and scanned the mall, looking for a phone to call Wally and let him know this latest development—“but I have to tell the police.”

After making the call to Wally, and helping May try on several more dresses at JCPenney’s, Skye and her mother continued their way around the mall. May stopped to look in the window of the Petite Sophisticate shop.

“What do you think of that?” May pointed to a forest-green coatdress.

Skye leaned in to take a closer look, and a reflection of the person standing a few feet behind her caught her attention. What was Lu Ginardi doing staring at them? Skye turned around, and their eyes locked. Skye took a step toward her, and Lu pivoted and walked away.

“Who was that?” May asked.

“Lu Ginardi.” Skye stared at the retreating figure. Lu had lost weight since Barbie’s Instant Gourmet party.

“Isn’t she the one who teased you so bad in high school?” May asked.

Skye nodded absently, still thinking of how gaunt Lu looked. May took Skye’s arm, and as they moved toward the next store said, “She flushed your bra down the toilet during PE, right?”

Skye nodded again. “And that was one of her milder forms of harassment.” She chewed her lip. Lu looked gray and haggard. Was she sick, or did she have a guilty conscience?

Skye pulled in her chair and looked around the restaurant where she and May had decided to have lunch. “How late did everyone stay after we left yesterday?” Skye asked.

“They were all gone by seven.” May straightened the salt and pepper shakers.

“It was a nice Thanksgiving.”

“Yes.” May flipped the pages of the menu back and forth. “How long is Simon’s mother staying in town?”

Skye wasn’t sure if May knew that Wally had questioned Bunny about the Addisons’ murders and ordered her to stick around, so she answered cautiously. “I don’t think she’s made up her mind yet.” Then, in an attempt to change the subject, she asked, “What are you having?”

Before May could answer, the waitress approached. “Hi. My name’s Tara and I’ll be serving you today. Are you ready to order?”

They both asked for a diet Coke and a cup of the cheese broccoli soup. May ordered chicken strips with honey mustard dipping sauce, and Skye decided on the Cobb salad.

When the server left, Skye asked, “How long did Dorothy work for the Addisons?”

“Mmm, quite a while.” May took a sip of ice water. “I think she started when her oldest went to college.”

When their waitress finished serving their drinks and first course, Skye asked, “Did she like working for them?”

“She didn’t talk about it much.”

“Was that unusual for her?”

“A little.” May spread honey butter on a roll. “But I think I remember someone saying that the Addisons had fired the cleaning lady before Dorothy for gossiping about them.”

“Sounds a little mean.”

“I have a notion they weren’t the easiest people to work for.” May moved her hands out of the way, allowing the server to put the plate of chicken strips in front of her. “I know it had to stick in her craw to have Miss Barbie ordering her around and acting so superior.”

After serving Skye’s Cobb salad, the waitress asked, “Anything else I can get for you ladies?”

They both said no.

“Why did she stay with it so long?” Skye speared a piece of lettuce and a black olive.

“At the time, there weren’t a lot of jobs within driving distance, and she needed the money after her husband passed away.”

“Did she clean for other people, too?”

May shook her head. “No. She worked at the Addisons’ house two days a week, and at the medical office the other three.”

“Where’s Dorothy working now?”

“She got hired at the new factory between Kankakee and Brooklyn.” May dipped her chicken strip into the sauce.

“Did Dorothy ever say why she was let go?” Skye knew she was entering shaky ground, but wanted a sense of what had gone on before she talked to Dorothy in person.

“She wasn’t let go. She quit.”

“Oh.” Was Yolanda wrong, or didn’t Dorothy tell people she was fired? “Did she say why?”

“I don’t think she ever answered me when I asked.” May wiped her mouth with her napkin. “Maybe she quit working for the Addisons because she found the factory job. It probably pays a lot better than cleaning houses.”

By the time May and Skye made stops at Farm and Fleet and K’s Merchandise Mart, it was nearly four o’clock.

As they drove past Kankakee State Park, May said, “Dorothy’s house is the next one on the left.”

Skye turned the Bel Air into a long narrow driveway and parked on a concrete area beside an older model Cadillac. May hopped out, and Skye followed as her mother walked over to the side entrance.

They made their way through a breezeway. Waiting for them in the doorway was a tall, solidly built woman in her late fifties.

“May Denison. How the heck are you?” She swept May into a hug. “I saw the car pull in. Is that the Chevy Jed fixed up for Skye?”

“That’s the one.” May hugged her back and stepped away. “I’m fine as frog hair, Dorothy Snyder. We were on our way home from the mall, and Skye wanted to stop and say hi.”

Dorothy grinned at Skye. “I haven’t seen you since you left town. Your ma is sure glad you’re back.”

Skye smiled. “It’s hard to stay away.”

May asked, “Are we interrupting anything?”

“I just finished cleaning up after yesterday’s party. Come in and have a drink. It must be five o’clock somewhere in the world.” Dorothy motioned them into a short hallway, through the kitchen, and into a huge living room that ran nearly the entire length of the front of the house.

The lush white carpet looked like no one ever stepped on it. Skye hoped her shoes were clean. Dorothy led them to a conversation grouping near an enormous picture window overlooking the snow-covered front yard. May and Skye sat on a buttery soft sofa the color of milk.

“What can I get you?” Dorothy stood with her hands on her hips.

“Nothing for me.” Skye looked around. She hadn’t been
at Dorothy’s house in years, and didn’t remember it being so lavishly decorated.

“How about a Bloody Mary, May?”

“You twisted my arm. Not too much vodka, though.”

“Right. We wouldn’t want you cooking supper drunk like that time at the lake last summer.” Dorothy turned and went into the kitchen.

Skye raised an eyebrow. “What happened at the lake last summer?”

“Oh, Dorothy inherited a houseboat, and I spent the weekend with her at Lake Shelbyville.” May waved away Skye’s question.

“And?”

“And we had a couple of beers while we were cooking and burned the steaks.” May gave Skye a stern look. “Nothing for you to go repeating to anyone, especially your dad.”

“Oh.”

Dorothy returned with a silver tray and put it down on the glass-and-chrome coffee table in front of Skye and May. She handed May a tall glass garnished with a celery stalk, and took a similar one for herself.

May took a sip. “How was your Thanksgiving?”

“Great. All the kids came. How about yours?” Dorothy settled into a chair that matched the couch.

“Good. Seems to be more people every year.” May took a bite from the celery.

Skye tried to figure out a way to subtly steer the conversation to the Addisons. “I suppose you heard about Ken and Barbie Addison?”

“That was terrible. A body’s not safe even in their own home.”

“Good thing you weren’t working for them anymore,” Skye offered, hoping the older woman would add something.

“Yeah. Knowing the missus, she would have somehow managed to blame me.”

“Sounds like she was hard to work for.”

Dorothy paused and took a deep swallow. “Nothing I ever did was right by that woman.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t quit sooner.”

Dorothy shrugged. “The pay was good, and I just let her harping and complaining roll off my back like water off a duck.”

“What finally made you quit?” Skye asked casually, watching her mom’s friend closely.

Dorothy turned her head and looked out the window. Snowflakes drifted through the twilight. She finally answered, “It was time to move on.”

“No hard feelings?”

May poked Skye in the side. “Dorothy never holds a grudge.”

Skye got the message and changed tracks. “I’ll bet you saw quite a few interesting things working for that pair.”

“Oh, I could tell a story or two.”

“Like what?”

“Lots of yelling and screaming coming from the garage. Those lady friends of Mrs. Addison were none too happy about being roped into the Instant Gourmet scam she was running.”

“Really?” Skye was surprised. “What do you mean?”

“All I’m saying is she had those women over a barrel.” Dorothy shot her a shrewd look. “If you’re investigating the murders, it’d be a good idea to take a close look at Mrs. A’s business.”

“But can’t you just tell me?”

“I’ve said my piece.”

Skye and Dorothy stared at each other.

May hurried into the conversation. “How’re the grandkids doing?”

They chatted about families for a while, then May excused herself to use the bathroom.

Skye seized the opportunity to ask Dorothy a question
out of May’s hearing. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but someone told me you didn’t quit your job with the Addisons, you were fired.”

“So?” The older woman crossed her arms. “And you want to know why?”

“Yes.” Skye felt her stomach tighten. May would blow a gasket if she knew Skye was doing this.

“Just between you and me—I’ll deny I ever said this if you tell anyone.”

Skye nodded her understanding, but didn’t promise anything.

“I found Dr. Addison and his wife’s best friend in bed together one afternoon. He was sure I was going to tell, so he threatened me and I quit. He gave me a big check as severance pay. Once I started spending it, he told Mrs. Addison he fired me for stealing and I was using that money for my purchases. I didn’t dare tell her otherwise.”

“What did he threaten you with?”

“That’s none of your business.” Dorothy narrowed her eyes. “Let’s just say he knew a lot of people’s little secrets.”

On the way back to Scumble River, Skye felt restless and on edge. It was a good thing that the GUMB Friday night bowling was canceled because of the holiday weekend, and Simon had a wake to oversee, because she was in no mood to socialize. She and Simon had a date for dinner Saturday night, and Skye hoped she’d be in a better humor by then.

She dropped her mother off at home, then drove to her own cottage. Bingo greeted her as she stepped inside. He wound around her ankles purring loudly and demanding food. Skye filled his bowl, put her packages away, and changed into sweatpants and a T-shirt.

There was a message on her machine from Frannie and Justin. They had come over to talk to her that afternoon, and had seen someone trying to get into her cottage. They thought she shouldn’t be alone.

Skye called Justin’s house and reassured the teens she was fine. She warned them to be careful themselves, and turned down their offer to come over and keep her company. Company was the last thing she wanted.

As she checked her doors and windows, making sure they were locked, she wondered who had been trying to get into her cottage that afternoon. Could it be Nate Turner or Quentin Kessler, still angry about what she had witnessed at that party Wednesday? Or maybe it was Polly, upset that Skye had found out she was Ken Addison’s last mistress? Or, and this was the most chilling possibility of all, maybe it was the same person who had followed her through the cemetery Wednesday night.