Murder of a Small-Town Honey (23 page)

“He hasn’t showed up at Reid’s, either. No one answers at his house or at the shop.”

“This isn’t like him.”

Skye started to doodle on a pink message pad. “Do you have any idea how to locate him? My parents will go ballistic if I tell them I can’t find him.”

“He’s not at the gym, and I can’t think of anywhere else he could be.”

She added a star to her drawing. “I hate to impose, but could you drive by his apartment and see if his car is there?”

“I’d be glad to. Where can I reach you?”

“Where I’m going to end up as a paying guest, if this whole thing doesn’t get settled soon: Reid’s Funeral Home.”

 

The service was brief. Simon looked handsome and dignified in a black double-breasted suit. Skye admired his tie, with its hexagonal design of black and gold. He talked about mercy and forgiveness, and ended his remarks with the announcement that a luncheon was being served at Charlie’s cabin after the interment at the cemetery. All in attendance were invited.

Xavier tapped Skye on the shoulder as she was waiting with her parents to file by the casket. “You have a telephone call, Miss.”

She turned to her mother. “It must be Abby.”

May and Jed looked at her pleadingly. Neither had taken the news of Vince’s disappearance well.

Skye walked back to Simon’s office to take the call.

Loretta Steiner’s voice boomed from the handset. “God, you’re hard to track down.”

“What’s wrong? How did you find me?” Skye’s stomach was doing flip-flops.

“After trying your house and your parents’, I called Abby. Doesn’t anyone in your family believe in answering machines?”

“I’m planning to get one the next time I get to Kankakee or Joliet.” Her answer was mechanical. “Why were you so intent on reaching me?”

“Vince is in jail. They arrested him this morning about seven-thirty. He called me as soon as they let him make a phone call. I just got to the station.” Loretta’s tone was impatient. “What is it with these cops? The chief’s not here, and the guy on duty refused to believe I was Vince’s attorney. I know you said they’d never had a black woman lawyer in Stumble Waters, but, hell, you guys do get cable, don’t you?”

“I’ll be right down.”

“No, I convinced him. As soon as I mentioned a civil rights lawsuit he seemed to catch my drift.” Loretta sighed. “You might want to make watching
Law and Order
a mandatory course in your high school, though.”

“Sorry. Why do you think I was so anxious to get out of this town?” Skye felt her face flush with embarrassment. “But what about Vince? Can you spring him?”

“No, not right away.”

Standing up from the chair she had sunk into at the news of Vince’s arrest, Skye stretched the phone cord to its limit. “I’ll get my parents and be there in a few minutes.”

“Don’t. They’re serious this time. They won’t let you or your parents see him. They’ve found new evidence, and they’re turning him over to the county for processing. I’ll follow him over to the county seat.”

“We can drive to Laurel.”

“No. I’ll be meeting with the county’s prosecutor to find out what evidence they have. You sit tight and I’ll be in touch,” Loretta cautioned.

Skye gave Loretta Charlie’s number and told her to call there if no one answered at her house or her parents’. She then went to tell her parents the bad news.

Jed and May were standing outside. The hearse had already left for the cemetery, followed by Charlie in the funeral home’s limousine. Other cars were falling into line as Skye approached her parents.

“Let’s walk to the car.” Skye guided her parents to their Olds.

“Was that Abby? Did she find Vince?” May anxiously seized Skye’s hand.

“Why don’t we get in so we can talk in private?” Skye opened her mother’s door.

After they were all seated, Skye leaned her arms across the back of the front seat. “That was Loretta Steiner. Vince has been arrested.”

Gasping, May clutched her chest. Jed sat staring out the windshield, the only evidence of his emotions the white of his knuckles where he was clenching the steering wheel.

May grabbed Jed’s arm. “Hurry. We’ve got to get to the station.”

Before Jed could react, Skye put a hand on both their shoulders. “Loretta said for us not to go there.”

“Why not?” May twitched her shoulder anxiously.

“She said they were taking him to Laurel and we wouldn’t be allowed to see him there, either.”

“We have to be there for him. We can at least talk to Loretta.” May turned to Jed.

“I think we should go to the cemetery and then to the luncheon. There’s nothing we can do for Vince right now, and Charlie hasn’t got anyone else.” Skye also looked to her father.

Jed started the car and backed out, getting in line behind the last vehicle in the procession. “Right now we can do something for Charlie. We can’t for Vince,” Jed said in a case-closed tone.

May asked questions all the way to the cemetery, but because she had no answers Skye concentrated on the scenery crawling past her window. She allowed her mind to wander, trying to block out her mother’s voice.

As the column of cars turned left on Basin and headed south of town, Skye glanced at the orange and white exterior of the Strike and Spare Bowling Alley. Its blackened windows and peeling paint gave it a jack-o’-lantern appearance.

Skye sighed and closed her eyes. When she opened them, the car was inching past McDonald’s plaza. People were walking out, carrying cups of coffee and brown paper sacks. Turning her head, she gazed at the cornfield on the other side. A billboard announced it was the future home of the newest Castleview housing development.

She watched the yellow-green stalks heavy with ripe ears of corn rustle in the breeze. Soon the farmers would be out on the combine harvesting them, but right now the blackbirds were enjoying a morning snack.

Brick and wrought-iron gates loomed on the east side of the road, spelling out the words “Scumble River Cemetery.” Winding their way down the narrow dirt lane, the cars turned first right, then left, then left again before stopping within sight of a dark-green canvas awning.

The coffin and the flowers from the funeral home were set up in the front of the shelter. Charlie and Simon stood together. By the time the Denisons trudged up from the rear of the procession, the space under the tent was full. As they stood to one side, Charlie motioned for them to come next to him.

Before Simon started the interment ceremony, Charlie whispered into Skye’s ear, “What happened to you guys? I wanted you to ride with me.”

“Vince was arrested,” Skye whispered back. “His lawyer called just as we were leaving.”

Simon must have heard what she said because he gave her a quizzical look before beginning. After he said a short prayer and gave a few inspirational words, the crowd filed by Charlie and the casket once again.

Standing up front, Skye noticed that all her suspects had come for the funeral. Darleen, looking like a corpse herself, was dressed in a slinky black dress that hugged her skeletal frame and accentuated her chalk-white complexion.

Looking every inch a principal, Lloyd was impeccably outfitted in an expensive blue suit with coordinating shirt and tie. Not to be outdone, Mike wore a charcoal-gray pin-striped suit that made him look as if he had stepped off the pages of a Marshall Field’s ad.

If she were judging them on the crime of bad taste, Darleen would have to be the killer. Maybe she was using drugs. The clothes she wore had to have some pharmaceutical explanation.

Skye’s attention wandered to a group standing on the edge of the crowd. She had been introduced to them by Charlie at the funeral home. The short, square-shaped woman was Honey’s agent, Blanche Herman. She kept glancing at her watch and sighing.

Next to Blanche stood Roxanne Dunn, Honey’s publicist. She was busy scribbling in a pocket-size notebook.

The last of the Chicago Three, as Skye had dubbed them, was the producer of
Gumdrop Lane,
Adrian Warner. As Skye watched him, he examined his manicured nails and adjusted the collar of his lilac silk shirt. She quickly scanned the crowd to see if anyone else noticed. All eyes were facing forward. Skye hoped the Chicago people would come to the luncheon; Adrian would certainly liven things up. May had taken another peek at Honey’s file and reported to Skye this morning. It was too bad that all three had alibis for the time of Honey’s death. Each of them looked as if killing would be all in a day’s work.

Luck Be a Lady

Charlie’s friends and neighbors had done him proud. His kitchen table and all available counter space were covered with dishes of food. Walters’ Supermarket had sent over a sliced roast beef, and the grocery store had contributed a spiral-cut ham. There were pies and cakes of every flavor. Jell-O molds jockeyed for position with green-bean-and-french-fried-onion casseroles.

Skye circulated through the assembly. People were balancing plates and cups while standing in little knots gossiping. She refilled coffee, dispensed napkins, and eavesdropped on her suspects’ conversations.

Mike and Lloyd stood with their heads together for their entire stay. Skye caught the words “Chokeberry Days” once and the phrase “this should take the wind out of his sails” another time, but for the most part they stopped talking whenever she appeared. Skye knew the two men were against continuing the festival, but she thought it was incredibly tacky of them to discuss it while under Charlie’s roof, considering that he was so clearly in favor of the event.

On his way out, Mike took her hand and inclined his head. “I wish you’d reconsider and come to the services at my church tomorrow.”

“If I get out of my meeting early, I’ll do that,” Skye promised insincerely, removing her hand from his grasp and holding the screen door open. “Thanks for coming. I’m sure Charlie appreciates it.”

Lloyd was next to leave. He shook hands with Charlie and made his way over to Skye. “Can I speak to you a moment in private?”

She glanced at the people still filling Charlie’s small house. “How about the office? It’s through the connecting door at the end of the hall.”

He followed her silently. When they reached the office, he said, “Someone called my wife Saturday morning, pretending to be from the paper. Do you know anything about that?”

“How would I know about something like that? What do you mean, ‘pretending to be from the paper’?”

Lloyd backed Skye into the counter and poked her with his finger, breathing angrily into her face. “Someone called pretending to be Barb, but Barb’s in St. Louis visiting her sister this weekend. Her husband is our custodian. He mentioned they were leaving right after school Friday.”

Skye tried to move away from Lloyd, but he put a hand on either side of her. She thought fast. “That’s pretty odd. Could your wife have misunderstood? Maybe what they said was that they were calling for Barb.”

“Wrong!” he roared, french-fried-onion fumes smacking her in the face. “You can’t fool me that easily. I called the
Star.
There are no pictures from Chokeberry Days that they’re trying to identify.”

“That’s strange, but I don’t know why you think I’m involved.” Skye shoved Lloyd away.

“Because it occurred to me that whoever made that call was trying to check to see if I had an alibi for the time of Honey’s death.”

Skye had been edging toward the door as he spoke. She fumbled behind her for the knob. “How clever. Maybe it was the police.” She pushed the door open.

“I didn’t kill Honey Adair. If you keep trying to prove I did, all you’re going to do is bring up the past and ruin my marriage.” Lloyd’s voice was low and beseeching.

Now that she was steps away from other people, Skye felt safer. “I’ll do whatever I have to do to save Vince.”

“If I catch you talking to my wife or spreading any more lies about me, I’ll see that you’re fired. Remember, I know what happened at your last job. I will not be a scapegoat for your brother.” Lloyd thrust his finger at Skye again.

Just then Charlie emerged from the bedroom next to the connecting door. “You’ll what?” he thundered. “Believe me, Stark, Scumble River will see the backside of you long before my goddaughter is ever fired.”

Lloyd stalked past Skye and Charlie without replying. He shouldered people out of his way and slammed the front door behind him.

“Well, Uncle Charlie, I think I’m in trouble now.”

Charlie put his arm around her shoulders. “Don’t worry, honey. Lloyd’s reign of terror is just about over.”

“What do you mean?”

“Come to the board meeting tomorrow night and you’ll see.”

“You’ve got something on him. Could it help Vince?”

“It won’t help Vince, but it will get Mr. Lloyd Stark out of our hair.”

Before Skye could ask more questions she heard a voice calling her name. She turned and saw Honey’s agent beckoning to her. After excusing herself to Charlie, Skye joined the Chicago Three.

“Skye, I couldn’t help but notice that you and Charlie seem very close,” Blanche stated as soon as Skye walked over.

“Yes?” Skye waited to see what was on the agent’s agenda.

“We have an exciting project to honor Honey, but Charlie is reluctant to give us the go-ahead, and we thought maybe you could explain it to him.” Blanche moved closer to Skye. “See, the thing is, the terms of Honey’s will give Charlie the rights to her life story.”

“I really don’t think I should get involved.” Skye tried to move away, but both the producer and the publicist blocked all possible avenues of escape.

“Just listen.” Adrian adjusted the cuff of his lilac shirt. “It’s a fabulous idea.”

Roxanne whipped open her notebook. “We think the Honey/Mrs. Gumtree story would be a marvelous made-for-TV movie. It has everything: sex, violence, deception. The murder scene with that hairdresser plunging his scissors into Honey’s throat would be boffo.”