Murder of a Sleeping Beauty (29 page)

Skye smoothed the wrinkled sheet and put it back in her purse. It would go in her scrapbook of silly administrator memos.

The last thing in her pile was an envelope that had already been ripped open. She turned it over to see if she could figure out why the seal had been broken, and froze. She stared at the piece of mail in her hand. It was addressed to Mr. Simon Reid, Coroner. The top left corner bore the name of the forensics lab. It was the missing toxicology report. How had it gotten into her mailbox at school? More importantly, what should she do with it?

She glanced around. She was alone in the waiting area, but anyone could come through one of several doors at any moment. What to do? Hand it over to Wally, was the obvious answer, but someone had gone to a lot of trouble to get this to her. And Wally already had a copy, so she wasn’t withholding vital information.

Okay, she’d take a quick peek and then give it to the chief. But she needed to preserve any fingerprints. Skye reached into her purse and retrieved her cosmetic case. Inside were tweezers, which she used to pull the report from the envelope.

A quick scan told her nothing. Most of the narrative did not use words Skye understood. The summary was a little easier to grasp. Lorelei had been given a fatal dose of dextroamphetamine. That sounded familiar. Skye made a note of the drug and the amounts found in the young woman’s blood.

She was using the tweezers to return the report to its envelope when she saw a Post-it stuck on the back. Scrawled on the yellow square was:

Skye was hoping Watson wasn’t who she thought he was when Loretta arrived. Six feet tall and well muscled, with smooth mahogany skin and black hair that she wore in a coronet of braids, Loretta turned heads whenever she entered a room.

The two women hugged.

“Same police chief?” Loretta asked.

“Same everything.”

“Okay, here’s the plan. I’ll demand to see my client. If your friend is swift enough, he’ll confirm I’m his lawyer and everything will be fine.”

“And if he’s not too quick on the uptake?”

“We’ll play it by ear.” Loretta turned and rang the visitor’s bell.

Thea answered, listened to Loretta, and went to get the chief.

He appeared a few minutes later, scowling. “Ms. Steiner, what brings you to our neck of the woods?” He glanced over her shoulder at Skye. “As if I couldn’t guess.”

“Chief Boyd, nice to see you again. I’m here on behalf of Kent Walker. I understand you’ve been questioning my client without benefit of attorney.”

“He’s not under arrest.”

“So he’s free to go?”

“We’ve asked him to cooperate in our investigation.”

“I understand that cooperation was coerced with a blow to the head.”

Wally’s face reddened. “He hit his head getting into the police car.”

“Right.” Loretta narrowed her eyes. “I’d like to see my client now.”

After Loretta was ushered into the interrogation room to confer with Kent, who had readily agreed that she was his attorney, Skye returned to school.

Her first act was to put the tox report into a Ziploc bag and stash it in her trunk with the photocopy of Lorelei’s letter. Skye had a bad feeling that Watson was none other than Justin Boward, and that the girl who’d been seen right after the original report was stolen was Frannie Ryan. She wondered when those two had joined forces.

Skye was trying to figure out how much of what she knew was confidential when Opal knocked on her door. Homer wanted to see her.

Skye had barely settled into a chair in the principal’s office when he demanded, “What in the hell is going on? Did Kent murder Lorelei?”

“The police got a tip and searched Kent’s house. They found dirty pictures of, and letters from, both Lorna and Lorelei. It appears he was sleeping with both mother and daughter. It looked to me like they were going to charge him with Lorelei’s murder, so I got him an attorney.”

“He understands the school isn’t paying lawyer fees, right?”

“Why would he think they would?” Skye countered.

A shifty look settled on the principal’s features. “I’m not sure, but we may’ve promised him that when we hired him.”

Light was dawning. “You mean, you gave Kent an under-the-table deal—outside the teachers’ contract?”

Homer half nodded, then seemed to catch himself. “I can’t talk about that.”

“You know, I always wondered how someone like Kent Walker, who hated being in Scumble River—let alone in the Midwest—ended up in our school. Any ideas?”

“What do you mean by that?” The hair in Homer’s ears bristled. “I’ll have you know we pass over a lot of good people to get to the ones we hire.”

Skye bit her lip to keep from laughing. The sad thing was that Homer was probably right. “Okay, but it’s still odd that someone who thinks he’s so much better than the rest of us ended up teaching in Scumble River.” After the words left her mouth she realized the description sounded strangely like her own situation. She reddened slightly and blocked that thought.

The principal leaned back in his chair. “It’s a long story.”

“My day’s already shot. Go ahead.”

“Kent’s father owns most of the car dealerships in Massachusetts. Mayor Clapp met him at some convention or other that one of the auto manufacturers put on. They had some business thing going so they kept in touch.”

Skye could imagine the type of deal Mayor Clapp would be involved in. “So . . .”

“So, this summer the mayor gets a call from Mr. Walker asking if he could find a job around here for Kent. Seems that he’d been living on the family money and got into some trouble, and the father wanted to teach him a lesson.”

“I’ll bet I can guess what kind of trouble he got into,” Skye interjected, thinking of the pictures she had seen.

“Anyway, Mayor Clapp asked about his qualifications. He had a degree in English and we had a maternity leave to fill.”

“That clears up that mystery.” It was beginning to seem to Skye that the Scumble River school district attracted more than its share of misfits from the education world, herself included.

 

“It’s not good.” Loretta Steiner glanced up from the menu. “There’s a lot against him, and not much for him.”

Skye gazed around the Feedbag before responding. It was nearly five, and the restaurant was filling rapidly. “What do they have on him?”

Loretta closed the giant laminated folder and put it aside. She used her fingers to tally Kent’s guilt. “They have several witnesses who will testify that Lorelei and Kent had an intimate relationship. Almost her entire cheerleading squad saw them alone together in compromising situations outside of school at one time or another.”

Skye took a sip of ice water. “I knew Lorelei hadn’t been discreet, but you’d think Kent would know better.”

“Sounds like she may have set him up—wanted the other girls to see them kissing and such.” Loretta signaled to the waitress, then continued after they ordered. “He lucked out in one respect. Everyone agrees Lorelei was past the age of consent.”

“Maybe legally, but morally to have an affair with your student is plain sleazy.”

Loretta shrugged. “It’s pretty mild compared to the cases I often see.”

“Thank God I never let him photograph me. Of course, come to think of it, he never asked.” Skye took another gulp of water. “I think I’ve been insulted.”

“You were obviously his cover, so no one would realize what he was really up to.” Loretta grinned. “Besides, he’s terrified of Uncle Charlie. He was afraid to try anything with you.”

“I can’t decide whether to be relieved or offended.”

“The most damning bit of evidence is that they found a bottle of prescription diet pills in Kent’s medicine cabinet.”

Skye looked blank.

“They were prescribed to Lorelei,” Loretta explained. “And they were the drug that killed her.”

“Shit!” That was how Skye had heard of dextroamphetamine—a doctor had probably tried to prescribe them for her at some point in her life. “What did he have to say about all this?”

“Kent had an explanation for it all. Said that Lorelei had decided to stop taking the weight-loss pills and given him the bottle to keep so she wouldn’t be tempted.” Loretta shook her head. “He’s using the old ‘she came on to me’ defense to explain why he was sleeping with his student.”

“Well, not that I’m blind to the evidence against Kent, but I do think Priscilla VanHorn is an equally good suspect,” Skye said.

“Who’s she?”

“Her daughter was runner up to Lorelei in everything—school, cheerleading, and even at these beauty pageants they all seem to be participating in—so she had motive.” Skye explained about the incident with Charlie at the last contest. “She certainly had the opportunity. Zoë and Lorelei were always together, so all she had to do was hand her a bottle of doctored juice. And means would be no problem. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Priscilla and her daughter are both taking the same diet pills that Lorelei was.”

“I’ll keep that in mind if I have to try this case.”

“That reminds me—the juice bottle they found next to Lorelei’s body, did it have Kent’s fingerprints on it?”

“No.” Loretta frowned. “From what I gathered, that bottle had a variety of prints, but they were so smudged they were useless. But his prints were on the band-room doorknob leading into the backstage area.”

“He could have used that entrance as a shortcut while he was directing.”

“That’s what he’s claiming.”

“So, how did you leave things with Kent?”

A tiny smile played on Loretta’s lips. “He wanted to know if he should tell the truth to the police.”

“What did you say?” Skye was curious as to what a top criminal attorney’s advice would be.

“I told him that honesty is the best policy, but insanity is a better defense.”

 

 

 

 

S
kye’s Tuesday morning at the elementary school had run long so it was close to one-thirty when she pulled into the high-school lot. Two cars blocked the bus zone, illegally parked in front of the entrance. Both were big, black, and expensive.

As she climbed the steps, a police cruiser swooped in and skidded to a stop next to the other vehicles. Wally threw open his door, ignored Skye, and ran into the building. She followed close on his heels. He headed down the hallway and into the maze of locker banks.

They’re going to search Lorelei’s locker.
Skye stood quietly just out of sight, tucked behind a row of lockers, and hoped that no one would notice her.

Mr. and Mrs. Ingels, a man in a business suit, and Homer stood huddled together. Wally stopped in front of the group, and asked Homer, “Have they opened it yet?”

He shook his head. “No, we’re waiting for our lawyer.”

The man in the suit spoke up. “Mr. and Mrs. Ingels have every right to clear out their daughter’s locker.”

Wally turned to Mr. Suit. “And you are . . . ?”

“Mr. Wingate, the Ingels’s attorney.” The man straightened his tie. “We heard you have a suspect in custody.”

“That’s correct.” Wally oozed charm and turned to Lorna Ingels. “So you can see, ma’am, why we need to examine what Lorelei had in her locker. It could provide us with more evidence against our suspect.”

Skye was surprised by how bad Lorna looked. She had deteriorated further in the few days since the funeral. Although she wore a designer suit, the hem hung crookedly, and there was a stain on the jacket. The skin on her face sagged, and her champagne-blond hair hung limp. Within less than two weeks, her daughter’s death had aged her ten years.

The woman looked helplessly at her attorney.

At that moment, the school’s lawyer arrived. Skye had met Bob Ginardi last year when her grandmother died. He had been involved in some financial impropriety with her uncle, but managed to wiggle out without any charges being filed against him. She couldn’t wait to hear his take on the present situation.

Ginardi, Homer, and the chief huddled for a moment, then Wally announced, “Okay, this is how we’re going to do this. The Ingelses’ attorney will take each item out of Lorelei’s locker, show it to us, and hand it to the Ingels. Our lawyer will write the official inventory, and we’ll all sign it. Objections?”

Mr. Ingels stepped forward. “Hell, yes, I object. This should be a private family moment. You’ve got your man. Can’t you see how upset my wife is?”

The contrast between Allen Ingels’s appearance and his wife’s was startling. He was freshly shaved and barbered, and wore an immaculate tan suit. Even his oxblood loafers glowed with care.

Wally’s voice was detached. “We’re very sorry for the intrusion, but a suspect is not a conviction, and we need to stay on top of the situation.”