Murder of a Bookstore Babe (11 page)

There was a split second of silence while everyone absorbed the information; then Uncle Charlie said, “I knew those new people were going to be nothing but trouble from the minute I met them. He’s some old hippie still ‘scarred’ by the war, and she thinks she’s so freaking green, she might as well be Kermit the Frog.”

Charlie was an imposing figure, weighing in at more than three hundred pounds and standing six feet tall. He was also opinionated, manipulative, and he disliked change. But he would do anything for May, whom he thought of as a daughter, or Vince and Skye, whom he considered his grandchildren.

“Really, Uncle Charlie.” Skye blew a curl out of her eyes. “Trying to conserve our natural resources is a good thing, and Orlando fought for this country and doesn’t deserve to be called names.”

He harrumphed but didn’t argue. After a moment, he, Jed, Vince, and Loretta sat down, and May and Trixie went back to the stove. As soon as everyone was settled, they all started talking and asking questions at once. Skye’s head was spinning, and she swayed, unable to focus on what anyone was saying. She felt like she might pass out.

Suddenly, Loretta put her fingers in her mouth and let out a piercing whistle. Everyone fell abruptly silent, and Loretta said, “People, give her a chance to talk.” She turned to Skye. “Start at the beginning and tell us what happened. Don’t leave anything out.”

Charlie and May frowned, but Vince and Trixie nodded. Jed shoved back his John Deere gimme cap and scratched his head, his expression hard to read.

May said, “Is that the way to behave in front of your maybe, I hope, future mother-in-law?”

“Sorry.” Loretta’s expression was neutral. “Too many years dealing with unruly clients, I guess.” She turned her head toward Skye and winked. “So . . . ?”

Skye walked over to the fridge and retrieved a can of Diet Coke. After popping the top and taking a healthy swallow, she described her day, skipping her coffee with Simon. She ended by saying, “Which means, it looks as if the store was robbed, and poor Kayla was unfortunately in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“What aren’t you telling us?” May aimed her laser-like truth-finding glare at Skye.

“Nothing that’s relevant to the situation.” Skye could have kicked herself. Why had she added those last five words?

“How about what isn’t relevant? Come on, Skye. You’re the police consultant and engaged to the chief. The girls expect me to tell them stuff everyone else doesn’t know.”

Skye opened her mouth, but Jed spoke first. “Ma, gossip’s not very Christian of you.”

May’s cheeks reddened. “I can’t help it. I got RLS.”

“What’s that?” Trixie asked.

“I saw it on that talk show,” May explained. “That one with the Hollywood psychiatrist. He says people like me have Restless Lips Syndrome.”

For a nanosecond the group was silent; then they all chimed in with their opinions regarding TV hosts and their medical qualifications. As the voices reached a peak, Skye caught a blur of black fur out of the corner of her eye and rose from her chair.

With everyone distracted, Bingo must have decided this was the perfect time to make a move on the roast. He ran past the people seated at the table, crouched, and launched himself at the counter. They all watched as at the last moment he apparently realized he couldn’t make it and flailed all four legs as if he were trying to fly, then dropped to floor. Everyone roared with laughter, and Bingo stalked out of the kitchen.

“Poor kitty,” Trixie murmured. “Do you think he’s hurt?”

Skye shook her head. “Just his pride.” She sat back down. “A cat’s irritation rises in direct proportion to his embarrassment times the amount of human laughter.”

Bingo’s antics had served to sidetrack the conversation, and May remembered that supper was ready. Which was a relief. Skye was starving. As the others discussed the burglary, the new store owners, and Kayla’s death, Skye devoured several slices of juicy roast beef, a mountain of creamy mashed potatoes, and heaping spoonfuls of corn casserole, then finished it off by using one of May’s homemade Parker House rolls to sop up the rich, dark gravy.

Once her hunger was appeased, she tuned back into the conversation just in time to hear Charlie say, “I don’t think it was a break-in at all. I bet you six ways to Saturday someone meant to kill that Risé woman.”

Skye asked, “What makes you say that, Uncle Charlie?”

“That woman and her husband have rubbed a lot of people the wrong way.” Charlie took the last swallow of his Budweiser and held up the can, jiggling it to indicate he was in need of another. “They’re sticking their hands into a lot of people’s pockets, and you mess with someone’s livelihood and you’re likely going to get burned.”

“Who?” May hurried to replace Charlie’s beer. “Anyone important?”

“Me, for instance.” Charlie reached for the bowl of Waldorf salad. “Flip Allen told me they’re fixing up rooms above their store to rent out to tourists. That’s going to cut in on my business at the motor court.”

“How did Flip know they were going to use that space as a bed-and-breakfast?” Skye asked. Flip was married to her cousin Ginger Leofanti Allen.

“He was the one who did the remodeling for them.” Charlie emptied the remaining potatoes onto his plate. “Said they tried to stiff him.”

“How?” Trixie asked.

“Wouldn’t pay him after he did all the work.” Charlie ladled gravy over the snowy mound.

Skye was silent for a moment, remembering that Kayla had mentioned overhearing that argument; then she said, “I thought Flip worked for that big builder who’s been putting in that development west of town. When I talked to him about doing some stuff at my house last summer, he told me he signed a contract with them not to do any independent jobs.”

“I don’t know anything about that.” Charlie shrugged. “He must have gotten some kind of dispensation.”

“Who else, Uncle Charlie?” Vince’s green eyes gleamed with interest, and he absentmindedly smoothed back the sides of his butterscotch blond hair. He was an extremely handsome man who had dated most of the single women in Scumble River and its surrounding counties at least once.

“Tomi over to the Feed Bag’s not too happy at the prospect of them siphoning off her morning-coffee-and-donut crowd.” Charlie forked a piece of beef into his mouth, then spoke around it. “That, and people stopping in the afternoon for a piece of pie, is a good chunk of change for her. With Erwin baking fresh stuff all day, folks might go to Tales and Treats instead.”

Skye wondered whether Charlie was aware of Hugo’s and Pru’s grudges against the store owners, so she asked, “Anyone else you can think of?”

“Your cousin Kevin Denison had a run-in with them about their insurance.” Charlie gestured with his knife. “They gave him a hard time about the premium he quoted being different from the actual amount they had to pay.”

Great!
Another cousin was unhappy with the bookstore owners—that made two from the Denison side and one from the Leofantis. “But why do you think they’d want Risé dead versus Orlando?” Skye asked.

“Because she’s a bi—witch.” Charlie finished eating and wiped his mouth. “Her husband is just an idiot.”

“Why do you think she’s a bitch?” Loretta asked. She ignored Charlie’s and May’s frowns when she uttered the
b
word, and continued, “Was it because she was assertive? If her husband had been the one acting that way, would you have called him a bastard or admired his grit?”

“I don’t know what you’re implying, little lady—”

Trixie cut Charlie off. “Of course you do.” She smiled at Loretta before telling him, “She’s implying you’re a chauvinist, and you have to admit you are.”

Charlie’s face turned magenta, and Skye was worried he might go into cardiac arrest. He was a prime candidate for a stroke since he was over seventy-five, drank, smoked, and didn’t exercise at all. “Uncle Charlie was born in a different time.” Skye explained. “Besides, he’s just not a warm and fuzzy kind of guy. Actually, he pretty much treats everyone the same.”

“Okay.” Loretta nodded. “But I still want to know what Risé did to make you think she’s so bad.”

“I can’t rightly put my finger on it.” Charlie ran his hands through his thick white hair. “It’s mostly an impression she made, that whatever she did before opening that bookstore, she was the boss, and no one messed with her. Once she gets something up her butt, she never lets it go.” He narrowed his bright blue eyes. “Take Hugo and those dang used cars of his, for instance. She is bound and determined to make him move them, or die trying.”

Skye gulped at Charlie’s words and sent a silent prayer to the heavens.
Please, please, God, let Kayla’s death be a burglary gone wrong.

After everyone had finished, the dishes were done, and the leftovers were distributed among them all, everyone got up to leave. As the group made its way to the foyer, Skye noticed that Vince and Loretta hung back, bringing up the rear. She crossed her fingers that there was a good, not bad, reason for their wanting to talk to her alone.

Just before walking out the door, Vince said, “One second, Loretta; I need to use the john.” The others hesitated, but he waved them off.

Once May, Jed, Charlie, and Trixie had gone, Skye asked Loretta, “What’s up?”

“Let’s wait for Vince to get back.” Loretta’s face was glowing.

“I think I can guess, but why the secrecy?”

Vince emerged from the hall bathroom and came up behind the two women in the foyer. He put an arm around each and beamed. “Because we wanted you to be the first to know, Sis. Loretta and I are engaged.”

“That’s wonderful!” Skye’s voice bubbled with pleasure. “I’m so happy for you both.”

Loretta reached into her pocket and slipped a large emerald-cut diamond set in platinum on her left ring finger, then held out her hand. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“It’s gorgeous,” Skye assured her friend. “Did you pick it out by yourself, Vince, or did you help him, Loretta?”

“He completely surprised me.” Loretta clung to Vince’s arm. “He proposed last night.”

“You done good, bro.” Skye hugged Vince, then embraced her friend. “This is so wonderful.”

“It is,” Loretta exulted. “Now we’ll be both Alpha Sigma Alpha sisters and sisters-in-law.”

“I’m flattered you wanted me to be the first to know, but why do I think there’s a catch?” Skye looked from Vince to Loretta.

“Let’s sit down.” Vince led them toward the back of the house and into the sunroom. “So, do you remember the promise you made to me last June?”

“Yes,” Skye answered cautiously, taking a seat on the wicker chair. “I said I’d run interference with Mom next time you were in trouble.”

Vince and Loretta snuggled together on the matching love seat, and he said, “I’m calling in that marker.”

“Why?” Skye became instantly wary. “Mom will be happy about you getting married. Won’t she?”

“The marriage part, yes.” Vince picked up one of Bingo’s catnip toys and tossed it from hand to hand. “The wedding part, not so much.”

“What kind of wedding are you planning?” Skye didn’t hide her look of consternation.

“Small.” Loretta took the felt mouse from Vince and gave it to Bingo, who was pawing at his knee.

The cat immediately dropped it and sauntered away.

“Oh.” Skye felt relieved. Yes, May would prefer a huge affair, but she’d be okay with a small wedding for her son. Now, if it were Skye, it would be a different story. “She’ll be fine, as long as the family’s included.”

“That’s the thing.” Vince spun the TV remote on the glass-topped coffee table. “When Loretta said small, she really meant intimate.”

“Like just Mom, Dad, me, Loretta’s parents, and her siblings?” Skye offered, thinking she could probably sell that to May without too much drama.

Vince shook his head. “Even tinier.”

Skye cringed. “What’s teenier than that?” Vince’s and Loretta’s expressions told Skye that something really bad was coming.

“Me, Loretta, you, and Wally.” Vince’s gaze slid from Skye’s.

“Oh, my God!” Skye screamed. “Please, tell me you aren’t eloping.”

“Technically, we aren’t.” Loretta gave Skye a calculating look. “Since we’re telling you and asking you and Wally to stand up for us.”

“Mom is going to kill you both.” Skye glared at them. “And I’m not going to be collateral damage.”

“You promised,” Vince insisted. “You pinkie swore.” He thumped the back of her head lightly with his thumb and forefinger.

“Shit!” It was times like this when Skye wished she used the
f
word.

“Yes, it’ll hit the fan, all right.” Vince made a face.

“Why? Tell me why you want to elope,” Skye demanded. She turned to Loretta. “Won’t your mother be disappointed? You’re her only daughter.”

“That’s the problem.” Loretta’s right eye gave a single twitch; then not a muscle moved in her face. “Although my parents like Vince, he’s not exactly the husband they’d choose for me.”

“What’s wrong with my brother?” Skye’s voice was knife-edged.

“Let me count the ways.” Vince spoke without rancor, but there was something in his eyes that made Skye think he was more upset than he let on. “I don’t live in Chicago. I didn’t go to college. I’m not a professional. I don’t have a lot of money. And . . .”

“And?” Skye hated to ask, afraid she already knew the answer.

“He’s Ca—”

“Caucasian, right?” Skye said half defiantly. “They want you to marry an African-American.”

“Nope.” Loretta’s eyes glinted with equal parts amusement and irritation. “I was going to say he’s Catholic. They want me to marry a Christian.”

“Sheesh. We are, too, Christians.” Without waiting for a response, Skye went on, “Which reminds me, why is Mom okay with you marrying a non-Catholic when she’s having a hissy fit because Wally isn’t Catholic?”

“She likes me better,” Vince teased. “Seriously, I think once Wally’s annulment comes through, she’ll be all right with him.”