Murder of a Barbie and Ken (8 page)

“Hi, I’m Bunny Reid. Simon Reid’s mother.”

Skye heard a strangled curse and looked past Bunny. Simon stood behind his mother, his hands curled into fists.

Kathy looked from mother to son. “I see the resemblance. I’m Kathryn Steele, the new owner of the
Scumble River Star.
” She rose and extended a flawlessly manicured hand to Simon. “Call me Kathy. So, you’re Simon Reid. I’d love to talk to you, too.”

Skye narrowed her eyes. Kathy was looking at Simon like he was a Godiva truffle and she had a serious craving for chocolate. Time to put a stop to that. Skye walked over to Simon and slipped her arm through his. “This is the boyfriend I mentioned.”

“Are you here to write a story?” Bunny asked, oblivious to the undercurrents. “I’m in show business and could sure tell you some juicy stuff.”

Simon paled. “Bunny, I’m sure Ms. Steele doesn’t have time for tall tales. Let’s go for a ride, and let her and Skye finish their conversation.”

Bunny stood firm as Simon tried to pull her from the room. Skye’s head pounded. Why had she let the newspaperwoman into her house?

Kathy sat back, her full red mouth curved into a smile. “I’d love to hear your stories, Bunny.”

Bunny settled next to Kathy on the couch and started talking. Simon sat in the director’s chair facing them, nervously jiggling his foot. Skye stood by his side.

She bent down and whispered in his ear, “Why don’t you leave? You don’t really want to hear all this.”

He shook his head and whispered back, “It’s like a car wreck. I want to look away, but I can’t.”

Bunny leaned back and crossed her legs, finishing a story about her and a notorious Las Vegas gambler. “So, I said to him, ‘Johnny, I’ll shave my pubic hair in a heart shape for you the day you twist your weenie into a poodle dog shape for me.’”

Simon groaned, and Skye suppressed a giggle.

Kathy scribbled furiously, then flipped back through her notes, and frowned. “You seem to have known more famous people than Forrest Gump. How old did you say you were, Bunny?”

Bunny winked. “Let’s just leave it at somewhere between thirty and a Wal-Mart greeter.”

Kathy appeared to mull over Bunny’s answer, then got up and smoothed her beautifully tailored red wool suit. “Regardless, you’ve had quite a life.”

Bunny walked the newspaperwoman to the foyer. “Well, Kathy, I always say that every woman should have a past juicy enough to look forward to retelling in her old age.”

Skye watched as Bunny waved her new friend out the door, then said to Simon, “Now what do we do?”

The bell immediately rang and Bunny flung open the door. This time it was Skye’s turn to grow pale.

Her mother, May, pushed past Bunny, and marched straight to Skye. “What in the name of heaven is going on around here?”

May had not been happy with Skye’s explanation of the day’s events, and had taken an instant dislike to Bunny.

Now, Bunny and Simon sat in chairs opposite May and Skye. Skye examined both mothers. May was fifty-seven, and Skye guessed Bunny to be about the same age—more from references to her experiences than from her appearance. Both were about five-two, but May had an athletic build that reminded Skye of the cheerleader her mother once had been, while Bunny looked more like an aging
Playboy
centerfold. May’s short salt-and-pepper hair took less than five minutes to style each morning. Skye didn’t even want to think about Bunny’s long red curls.

But the biggest difference was the eyes. May’s emerald eyes shone with a sense of well-being, even when she was bawling out Skye for keeping secrets, while Bunny’s hazel eyes had a haunted look that never quite went away, even when she was laughing. Maybe Skye should point that out to Simon. Or maybe she should mind her own business.

May whispered into Skye’s ear, “Her fake eyelashes are longer than her skirt.”

“Mother,” Skye warned.

Bunny settled back in the recliner and smiled at May. “Charlie told me so much about you.”

“That’s funny, because he didn’t mention you at all.” May bared her teeth in what was supposed to pass for a smile.

“That naughty boy.”

“Yes, Charlie has certainly been a naughty boy.” May turned to Skye. “Tell me again about finding the Addisons’ bodies.”

Bunny tsked. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about that as soon as you got home. When that newspaper lady told me about it, I just about swooned.”

“What newspaperwoman?” May asked Skye.

Skye explained about Kathryn Steele.

May fumed. “Let me get this straight. You and your father
find two dead bodies, Simon’s mother moves in with you, it’s all going to be in the
Star
, and you didn’t think to call me?”

Skye hedged. “I figured Dad would fill you in about the bodies, and I thought Simon should be the first to know about Bunny, and the newspaper thing just happened a minute before you arrived.”

“I see.”

“Besides, I thought for sure Uncle Charlie would have let you know.” Skye sneezed and searched her pocket for a tissue.

“God bless you.” May reached into her purse and handed Skye a Kleenex. “Don’t worry, Charlie’s on my list, too. Along with your father.”

Skye didn’t need to ask what list May was referring to, because she already knew it was the one she frequently occupied. Instead she asked, “What did Dad do?”

“He came home, got his gear, and went hunting with the dog. Didn’t mention one word about finding the Addisons.” May crossed her arms.

“How did you hear about it?”

“I stopped at the police station to get my check—I forgot to take it last time I was at work—and everyone was talking about the murders.” May frowned. “You and your father made me look like a fool. I had to pretend to know all about it.”

Before Skye could respond, Bunny bounced out of her chair. “May, honey, it sounds like you had a really hard day. How about the two of us get gussied up and go have a drink? I noticed a couple of real nice-looking cocktail lounges in town.”

Cocktail lounges? Skye wondered which of the four taverns in Scumble River qualified as a cocktail lounge.

After a long interval during which May’s mouth kept opening and closing but nothing came out, she finally managed
to say, “Tempting as that sounds, I better go home and cook that no-good husband of mine dinner.”

Bunny leaned close to May and declared, “My motto is always yield to temptation, because it might not pass your way again.”

Skye wondered just how many mottos Bunny had.

May shook her head, got up, and grabbed Skye, pulling her toward the foyer. “I’d like a word with my daughter, alone.” And just in case they hadn’t gotten the message she added, “Bunny and Simon, you stay there.” As soon as they were out of earshot, May ordered, “Get rid of that woman.”

“She’s Simon’s mother. What am I supposed to do, throw her into the snow?”

“Mmm. That would be quite a show. We could call it Harlots on Ice.” May’s smile was not at all sweet. “Simon wouldn’t care if you threw her out. Heck, he’d probably sell tickets.”

“That may be how he feels now, but you can’t truly believe that sometime, maybe in the distant, distant future, he won’t hold it against me.”

“Mmm. You could be right.” May thought about it. “I guess you can’t really
kick
her out, but she’s got to go. I know, I’ll stop by and tell Charlie he has to find a cabin for her ASAP. I want to have a word with that man anyway.”

Skye kissed her mom and opened the door. “You do that.”

May paused as she was leaving. “I don’t understand how someone like her could have a son like Simon.” May tsked. “That woman is an egg short of a carton.”

“Sometimes I think a lot of people around here are a little scrambled.” Skye waved to her mother as May climbed into her car.

Skye shut the door and turned, but the phone rang before she could return to the great room, so she detoured into the kitchen and grabbed the receiver. Wally’s voice greeted her.

“Hey, Skye. Is Simon at your house, by any chance?”

“Yes. I’ll get him for you.”

“Thanks.”

Skye fetched Simon, and went back to sit with Bunny.

Bunny said, “Your mama’s real nice. I think we’ll be pals.”

Skye’s mouth dropped open. Was Bunny totally clueless? How had the woman ever survived in a place like Las Vegas? “It takes Mom a while to warm up to new people,” Skye warned.

“But I could tell we really made a connection.”

Skye didn’t know what to say, so she seized the first thought that whizzed past. “What would you like for dinner tonight? I could make pasta or maybe a nice Cornish game hen?”

The choices at the grocery store had been both limited and a little bizarre. It was too bad the police were keeping the Instant Gourmet meals as evidence. After all, she had already paid for it. But then again, the thought of eating food that had been at a murder scene was pretty revolting.

“I’m sure Sonny will want to take us out,” Bunny said.

“No,
Simon
won’t.” Simon leaned against the wall between the foyer and the great room. He walked over to Skye. “That was Wally. They need me at the crime scene, and then I have to arrange for the bodies to be autopsied. I’ll probably be tied up until fairly late.”

“That’s what I figured.”

“I hate sticking you with her. I promise I’ll sort things out tomorrow.” Simon turned to his mother. “I hope you’ll be a considerate houseguest, and not give Skye any trouble.”

“Why, Sonny, you don’t have to worry about me. I’ve changed. My wild oats have all turned to shredded wheat.”

“Right, and General Mills has just been made admiral.”

  
CHAPTER 7
  

Out of the mouth of babes
…

—Old Testament

S
kye balanced two boxes full of testing equipment, a stack of file folders, and a clipboard as she walked down the hall and into the elementary school’s oldest wing on Thursday morning. The smell of mildew hit her full force, making her eyes water and her nose twitch, but she didn’t sneeze. She hoped this meant her cold was getting better.

As she passed a row of windows, she glanced outside and flinched. The sun’s rays bouncing off the totally white landscape was blinding. More snow was predicted for later that afternoon, and the roads leading out of town were still hazardous due to drifting.

But for now, the local streets and parking lots were clear, and school was in session. Skye hoped that meant all the kids scheduled for preschool screening—or, as she liked to call it, preschool screaming—appointments would show up and she wouldn’t have to try to reschedule thirty-two three- and four-year-olds.

Shivering, she stepped back from the window. Now if the
heat would just kick in, they’d be in business. School district policy mandated that the furnace be turned down to sixty degrees during the night, and this part of the building was the last to warm back up.

Previously this wing had been rented out to a church group, but they had found a better facility and moved during the summer. The school board was now trying to figure out whether to bring it up to code for classroom use or to tear it down and start over.

It was not the best location for preschool screening—it gave parents a unfortunate first impression of the school district and the cheerless atmosphere made the kids ill at ease—but Skye had learned that conditions were rarely ideal when one worked in public education.

She had asked the custodian to position rolling bulletin boards in the middle of the two large rooms. She set up the various testing equipment—cognitive, fine-motor, gross-motor, and speech/language—in these four smaller spaces, then took the files out to the registration area by the doorway. A card table served as the check-in counter and faced several folding chairs that constituted the parents’ waiting area.

Skye sat at the table and started to sort the folders according to time of appointments. A cold draft made her look up. That was odd. The door remained closed, and she didn’t see any open windows. She blew on her fingers to warm them, glad she had worn a heavy cardigan with a turtleneck underneath.

Where was everyone? The preschool screening team should be here by now. Suddenly she was aware of an unsettling silence. Usually schools were full of noises.

Abruptly she flashed to the scene at the Addisons’. It had been awful finding them like that. They certainly weren’t the first murder victims she had encountered, but something about this discovery bothered her more than the others.

Skye chewed her lip. Why? What was different this time?
Maybe just the sense of rage and violence that hovered in the atmosphere, like the charged air before a tornado touched down.

“Skye. Skye, are you alright?” A voice finally penetrated her dark thoughts, and Skye jumped, knocking over the stack of files she had been working on. The speaker was Abby Fleming, the school nurse.

She gathered up the scattered folders. “Sorry, yes, I’m fine. Just daydreaming.” She craned her neck. Abby was tall—five-foot-ten—with the athletic build of a pro tennis player. “You ready for the onslaught?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Did you find a good spot for your equipment?”

“Yep.” Abby took a barrette from the pocket of her skirt and clipped back her white-blond hair. “I’ve got the vision test and audiometer set up in the pastor’s old office.”

“Great. I’ll use the other office to score the tests and explain the results to the parents.” Skye looked at her watch. It was quarter after eight. “Where’s the rest of the team? The first group of kids is scheduled to arrive in fifteen minutes.”

“Relax.” Abby pointed down the hall. “Here they come now.”

As soon as the four women spotted Skye, they surrounded her, demanding information about the Addisons’ murders. She answered their questions, then listened to them talk about the victims.

One of the kindergarten teachers stated, “It was obvious from the day they moved here that they thought Scumble River was beneath them.”

“How long ago was that?” Skye asked. She knew the Addisons hadn’t been living in town when she left.

“I think it was about ten years ago,” the other kindergarten teacher offered.