Murder of a Small-Town Honey (15 page)

Skye and Abby settled themselves in the health room after shutting the door. This room looked just like the one at the junior high, and Skye was betting that the one at the high school would also be the same. Abby sat at the desk while Skye made do with the cot.

“So, why do you want to know about Honey?” Abby asked, leaning back and crossing her legs.

“You know the police had Vince in for questioning?”

She nodded. “Yeah, but they let him go that same night.”

“Only because the attorney I found for him wouldn’t let him say anything. They didn’t have enough evidence to arrest him, but he’s still their number-one suspect. According to Mom, he’s their
only
suspect,”

“So, what are you doing?” Abby frowned.

“My mom thinks, and I have to agree, that unless we find out who really killed Honey, the police are going to keep trying to nail Vince.

“In order to find out who killed her, I need to know as much about her as possible. Right now I’m trying to get a picture of what she was like. What do you remember about her?” Skye squirmed, trying to get comfortable on the lumpy vinyl cot, and vowed to race Abby for the chair next time.

“She was the only person I’ve ever met that Gandhi would have slapped.”

“Why was that?”

“Honey was just plain mean. She was so tiny, you weren’t prepared for her to turn on you. She went out of her way to say hurtful things to people. That one had a talent for picking out the weakest kids around and tearing them to shreds. When you add the fact that she was never interested in a boy unless he was dating someone else . . .” The expression on Abby’s face was one of disgust.

“Boy, she was a real witch.”

“With a capital B,” added Abby.

Skye grabbed a pencil from the desk. “Who were some of her loves du jour?”

“Most guys were just one-night stands, and their girlfriends eventually took them back.”

“So you’re saying if sex were fast food there would have been golden arches over her head.”

Abby didn’t smile. “Before she latched on to Mike Young, he was pretty serious about Darleen Ames. They never did get back together.”

“Darleen Ames. Is she Darleen Boyd now?”

“Yep.”

“Who else’s life did she mess around with?” Skye lifted her tote onto her lap.

“Well, we were on the softball team together that summer she moved here, and she seemed very close to the coach.”

Skye leaned forward. “Who was the coach? Is he still in town?”

“Sure, you see him every day. It was Lloyd Stark.” Abby hastened to add, “Just remember that was only an impression I had, not a fact.”

“Understood. But it certainly is food for thought.” She hated to broach the next question. “Who was Vince going out with when she hooked him?”

Abby looked away. “He wasn’t seeing anyone seriously, but he and I had dated a couple of times.”

“That must have made you feel pretty angry.”

“I wanted to kill her.”

All Shook Up

After speaking to Abby, Skye had tried to concentrate on setting up a counseling schedule and observing in different classrooms. At eleven-thirty she gave up and called May, suggesting that they meet for lunch. Now she sat in a booth at McDonald’s, waiting for her mother and gazing out the window at the parking lot. If she craned her neck she could see the spot that Mrs. Gumtree’s trailer had occupied. She was surprised that the area showed no trace of either the parade or the murder.

May slid onto the bench opposite Skye. “I’m glad you called me. Meeting for lunch was a good idea. This way we can discuss the case without your father knowing what we’re up to.”

“Why don’t you want Dad to know?”

“Because he doesn’t know how to keep a secret.”

“That’s true.” Skye stood up. “I’ll get our food, and we can talk while we eat. I only have half an hour. What do you want, Mom?”

“Gee, I don’t know. I guess a grilled chicken sandwich and a Diet Coke. I’ll eat some of your fries.” May reached into her wallet and thrust a ten-dollar bill at Skye. “My treat.”

“I can buy my own lunch.”

They glared at each other for an instant before Skye acquiesced and reluctantly accepted the money. She shot May one more look before leaving to place their order.

Skye was gone less than five minutes. She handed May her change before putting the brown plastic tray on the table and settling back on her side of the booth. While May put away the money, Skye unwrapped her Big Mac and took a bite.

May removed a foil pack of moistened towelettes from her purse and tore it open. She shook out the paper square and thoroughly wiped the tabletop. After flattening the wrinkled paper from her sandwich into a makeshift place mat, she took a handful of Skye’s fries and put a straw in her cup. She smoothed a napkin on her lap.

Skye watched this ritual with interest, having seen it only a million or so times before today. “Are we comfy yet?”

May looked up, but did not respond to Skye’s sarcasm. “That’s a pretty outfit. Don’t forget to put your napkin in your lap.”

Having forgotten momentarily what she’d put on that morning, Skye looked down at what she was wearing—a deep blue wrap-style dress with a cascade collar. “Thanks.”

“Why don’t your shoes match?”

Since the pumps she was wearing were made for walking, Skye walked away from that booby trap. “If we’re through with our housekeeping chores and fashion bloopers, perhaps we can discuss what I’ve uncovered so far this morning.”

“Shoot.”

Leaning forward, Skye lowered her voice, even though there was no one anywhere near them. “Okay, you remember the things you’re supposed to research for me tonight?”

May nodded impatiently. “Yes, I wrote it all down. I’m not senile. What else have you found out?”

“After my meeting this morning I chatted with Abby Fleming, the school nurse. You know she’s dating Vince now, but did you remember she went out with him a few times in high school?”

May smiled indulgently. “I couldn’t keep track of all the girls Vince dated. He was so popular.”

Skye wondered if her mother was reminding her that she had not been very sought after in high school. Talking with her mother always required being on the alert for ambushes.

She ignored that unwelcome thought. “Anyway, Vince dated her right before he got involved with Honey Adair. And Abby was really ticked off at Honey for stealing Vince.”

“This all happened so long ago. She can’t still be upset about it.”

“Think of it this way. She’s dating Vince again, everything is going really well, and suddenly she finds out that Honey is coming back to town. I’d say all the old resentment would resurface.”

“How would she know that Honey was Mrs. Gumtree?” May took a few more fries from Skye’s pile.

“I haven’t worked out that part yet.” Skye shrugged. “But she could have recognized her from her picture on those posters that were all over town.”

May shook her head. “Abby is such a sweet girl. She couldn’t do something like that.”

“Right.” Skye opened another ketchup packet. “And there were no drugs in Scumble River when I was in high school. At least that’s what you always told me when I complained about the pushers in class.”

“Did you find out anything else?”

“Oh, my, yes. Did you know that Chief Boyd’s wife, Darleen, dated Mike Young in high school, while he was so involved in drugs? Honey broke up that relationship, too.”

“No, I didn’t know any of that. Well, that might explain his wanting to pin this murder on Vince without much investigating. He probably doesn’t want anything about his wife’s past to come out.” May shook some salt on her sandwich.

“I would imagine not, but I just can’t picture Chief Boyd with Darleen. She’s the special ed teacher at the junior high, and there’s something about her that bothers me.”

“Like what?”

“Let me think. To begin with, she’s emaciated, not just fashionably thin but skeletal. Also, her eyes bulge out. I keep trying to remember what medical condition causes that. But mostly it’s her extremely submissive behavior around the principal that disturbs me.” Taking a sip of her Diet Coke, she tried to put the pieces together.

May finished her meal and started to clean up the debris, putting everything back on the tray. “Everyone doesn’t have to be as bossy as you are.”

“Thanks a lot, Mom.”

May got up and dumped the trash in the garbage. “You’ve found out a lot already.”

“That’s not all.” Skye followed May to the door. “Abby said that Honey was very friendly with her softball coach back then. And you’ll never guess who that was.” She paused for effect. “It was Lloyd Stark, the junior high principal.”

“Do you really think someone like him would get involved with a student?”

“Remember, this was sixteen years ago. He may have changed considerably since then. Nevertheless, I’m going to talk to him too.”

They walked toward their cars, parked side by side. May opened her door, then cautioned, “Be careful. If one of these people did kill Honey, they may already think you saw something, and by asking questions you could be stirring up a hornet’s nest.”

Skye hugged her mother and kissed her on the cheek. “When you asked me to help Vince, what did you think would happen?”

“I guess I didn’t think, but I don’t want to put one of my kids in danger to save the other.”

“Sure, Mom, I’ll watch it.”

Skye was scheduled to spend the rest of the day at Scumble River Junior High. As soon as she arrived, she asked to speak to Lloyd but was told by Ursula, the school secretary, that he was unavailable.

Next, she went to the special ed classroom. There she found Darleen, along with eleven students, who were studying for a math quiz.

Skye whispered to Darleen from the doorway, “Mind if I watch?”

Darleen shook her head, but she kept glancing uneasily at Skye as she taught.

Making her way to the back of the room, Skye sat in a yellow plastic folding chair. From reading their files she knew the kids had a mixed bag of disabilities, with the majority having either learning or behavior problems. They all had study sheets, and most had written in their solutions. Darleen was going over those answers.

Skye was visiting the classrooms in an attempt to match faces to the names on file folders, allow the teachers and students to become accustomed to her, and get a feel for the different teaching styles.

The bell rang at two-fifteen and the students piled out of the room. Gym was last period, and they had a lot of bottled-up energy to expend.

Turning to Skye, Darleen gestured to the sheaf of papers she was holding. “This is my planning period, so there won’t be any more students today.”

Skye nodded. She recognized a dismissal when she heard one, but she persisted. “Are you going to the teachers’ lounge?”

Darleen gave Skye a deer-in-the-headlights look. “Yes, I thought I’d get a soda while I grade these papers.”

Skye ignored Darleen’s attempt to make it perfectly clear that she didn’t want company. “Great. Mind if I join you? Maybe we can get to know each other.”

Sighing, Darleen trudged down the hall.

The teachers’ lounge was decorated in Early Grandma’s Attic. Nothing matched, and everything was at least fifty years old. A refrigerator had been placed in the back corner, next to a counter with a sink full of used coffee cups. The microwave, located on an old library cart, was stained both inside and out. Several tables had been shoved together, plastic folding chairs arranged haphazardly around them. A couch covered in nubby orange fabric occupied the opposite wall, and next to it a child-size desk held a telephone.

Darleen opened the fridge and took a half-empty can of soda from the shelf. She sat down at the table and started grading papers.

Skye looked around for the pop machine but did not see it. “Where’s the soda machine?”

Darleen shrugged listlessly. “It must still be out for repair.”

Making a mental note to bring in a few cans of Diet Coke to put in the fridge, Skye joined her. While Skye waited for Darleen to look up, she studied her. If anything, the teacher looked worse now than she did the first day of school. Her skin was pasty, and she had dark circles under her eyes. She wore an overall romper over a Spandex crop top.

Skye thought,
Why would a teacher who deals with disturbed adolescent boys dress like that? Talk about asking for trouble.

The silence lengthened and Skye’s impatience grew. “So, are you from Scumble River?”

Darleen nodded but did not look up.

This conversation was more of a chore than getting a sixteen-year-old to talk. “You must have gone to high school here then, right?”

Again a nod but no eye contact.

“That murder Sunday was awful. Did you know Honey Adair?”