Murder of a Small-Town Honey (24 page)

Skye shook them off like raindrops. “ ‘That hairdresser’ is my brother, and he did not kill Honey. Any suggestion in a book, movie, or cartoon that he did and you’ll be speaking with our attorney.”

No one blinked. Finally Blanche said, “Does this mean you won’t help us get Charlie to sign a release?”

 

The last of the crowd was slowly taking their leave. Charlie and May stood by the door, easing them out. After the ceremony at the cemetery, Jed had dropped Skye off at the funeral home to get her car, then gone to the farm to work on some machinery. She was to drive May home after they finished cleaning up at Charlie’s.

Skye grabbed a tray from the kitchen and started fetching dirty plates, silverware, and cups. The places where people crammed them were amazing. Someone had even deposited their debris in a file drawer in the desk.

Skye put her tray on the floor and knelt down. Warily she picked out the dirty plate. Several papers clung to it. She put them aside, meaning to wipe them with a damp cloth. The knife and fork were easily retrieved, but the cup had spilled its liquid dregs into the bottom of the drawer.

Taking out the wet papers, Skye added them to the soiled pile. She picked up the pages in her left hand and then used her right hand and the edge of her left to lift the tray.

Once in the kitchen, she ran hot water and squeezed dish soap into the sink, placing the dirty dishes, cups, and utensils in the water to soak. After clearing the table of containers and serving dishes, she spread the moist papers from the desk on the tabletop and started to blot them with paper towels.

As she was doing this, the letterhead caught her eye. It depicted a stylized drawing of a woman’s face with an elaborate crown and read: “Baroness Riverboat Casino.” Alarmed, she looked closer. Most of the papers bore the same insignia, although a few were from other riverboat casinos in the area. All were letters demanding payment of credit extended for gambling. Some were over a year old.

Skye debated returning for a look at the files remaining in the drawer, but before she could decide, Charlie and May walked in.

Charlie’s eyes were immediately drawn to the papers on the table. “What are you doing with those?” he roared.

“Someone opened the drawer of your desk and stuffed their dirty plate and cup inside. Coffee and food were spilled on some of the papers so I took them out to wipe them off.” Skye felt her face turn red and looked away. “I’m sorry, Uncle Charlie.”

Coming around Charlie, May put her arm around Skye and quickly skimmed the papers. “Charlie Patukas, what’s the meaning of this, yelling at Skye like she was the one who did something wrong.”

Charlie pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down heavily in it. He buried his face in his hands.

Skye knelt beside him and hugged him. “Tell us about it. You’ll feel better.”

He sighed. “It started a few years ago. I always did like a good poker game, but stakes around here are usually pretty low and I never lost more than I could afford. Then I started going to the boats. They had senior citizens’ day and free breakfast for the early-bird cruises and this and that until I was so far in debt I didn’t know what to do.”

“That’s why you couldn’t lend Vince the money,” Skye murmured.

May gave her a funny look. “So, what did you do, Charlie?”

“I sold everything I could—my car, my investments, everything but the motor court, and they wanted that too.” Charlie looked down and rolled the edge of the nearest letter. “Finally, I asked Honey for a loan.”

“I thought you didn’t know where she was.” Skye pulled up a chair and sat down next to him.

“She wrote me a few years ago and gave me a post office box address, in case of an emergency. I figured this was as close to an emergency as I was likely to get.”

“Did she give you the money?”

“No, she said she didn’t have it.” Charlie wouldn’t look up.

“So then what did you do?” May walked to the sink and started to wash the dishes.

“Before I could decide what to do, she was murdered and I inherited that money. The casino is glad to wait until the will is probated.”

“I’ll bet they are. What have you done about this gambling problem of yours?” Skye looked at him sternly, forcing him to meet her eyes.

He put his right hand over his heart. “You don’t have to worry. I started going to Gamblers Anonymous in Joliet three months ago and haven’t placed a bet since.”

Skye gathered up the letters and stooped to kiss him on the cheek. “Good for you.”

They remained quiet for a moment.

“I didn’t kill Honey.” Charlie looked from May to Skye.

“We don’t think you did.” May turned away from the sink.

“Good, because I have an alibi. Fayanne Emerick was with me from nine o’clock until Skye found me at eleven. I wish you’d ask her.”

Skye squeezed his hand. “We believe you.”

The phone rang, startling them all. Charlie answered, then handed the receiver to Skye. “It’s Loretta Steiner.”

May rushed to the phone, trying to hear what Loretta was saying.

After a few “okays” and “ahas” Skye hung up. She turned to May and Charlie. “They’re charging Vince with first-degree murder. They just got verification of a letter they found in Honey’s condo last week. It’s in Vince’s handwriting, and he threatens to get rid of her if she doesn’t leave him alone.”

Jailhouse Rock

First thing the next morning Skye phoned Fayanne and confirmed that the liquor store owner and Charlie had been together during the time he claimed.

Fayanne’s exact words were, “Nope, the man never left my sight. I stuck to him like the printing on a T-shirt.”

Skye sat in the high school guidance office chewing on the end of her pencil. Her appointment book lay open on the desk, a sprinkle of eraser crumbs scattered like dandruff across its pages.
Shit, there is no way I can avoid the junior high. I’ve got to finish testing Zach today or everything else gets screwed up.
She dreaded coming face-to-face with Lloyd after yesterday’s confrontation.

The warning bell rang, startling her out of her reverie, and she quickly got ready for her first student. In rapid succession Skye saw a girl with a habit of hiding in the rest room during her afternoon classes, a young man caught wearing gang colors, and three teens who had long-standing problems.

Skye hypothesized that the girl might be bulimic and was hiding in there to make herself vomit or use laxatives after eating lunch, the boy was a wannabe gang member, and the remaining trio probably knew more about therapy than she did. Nevertheless, she put them down for weekly appointments.

Instead of eating lunch, Skye telephoned Loretta Steiner.

The lawyer dispensed with the normal chitchat. “He can have one visitor from two to four and another in the evening from six to eight.”

“You mean both of my parents can’t see him? Can one go in for the first hour and another for the second?”

“Probably. Small-town jail. Upstanding local family. Yeah, they’ll probably cut you some slack.” Loretta paused. “Of course, you could always get some hard-ass guard. No way of telling.”

Next Skye called her mother.

May’s voice was shrill. “Fine. Then your dad and I are going over right now. I’ll trade my shift with another dispatcher. You can go right after school.”

“I’ll probably stop at my place so I can change and grab something to eat. I can’t get in until six and it’s only a forty-five-minute drive.”

May snorted and the phone went dead.

Skye wondered why she had even tried to explain. If she was going to survive living in Scumble River, practically on her mother’s doorstep, she was going to have to be more selective about what information she shared with her parents.

 

Walking over to the junior high, Skye didn’t notice the freshly cut grass or the singing birds. Instead, she planned the best route through the school if she wanted to avoid Lloyd.

When she entered the main hall, she saw that the coast was clear and sprinted to her room. A true sense of accomplishment filled her as she settled behind her desk. Only then did she realize that if she wanted to see Zach for testing she would have to send for him from the main office. The school felt that a telephone for her office was one luxury too many.

Skye steeled herself for an attack by Lloyd and went to the office. Ursula was dividing index cards into five different piles. Skye waited for a break in the action.

Ursula glanced up. “Mr. Stark wants to see you.”

“Now?” Skye felt her heart accelerate.

“Yep, said to send you in as soon as you got here.”

Skye moved toward the rear of the office and tapped on the partly open door before pushing it open farther. “You wanted to see me?”

Lloyd did not look up from his desk. “Right. Come in and close the door.”

She complied, the blood pounding in her ears.

After an interminable wait Lloyd finally put down his pen and looked up. “The superintendent has asked me to let you know that the incident with the boy hosting the sex parties has been resolved per your recommendations and he thanks you for your good work.” Lloyd’s mouth was pursed as if he had just bitten into a bug.

“Well, ah, thanks for telling me. I wondered what had happened with that case.” Skye waited for further directions, but Lloyd picked up the phone and dialed.

She let herself out of his office and walked over to the secretary to continue her original mission. “Ursula.”

“Yes?”

“Ah, could you . . . ah . . . call Zach Van Stee and send him to my office?” Skye stumbled, intimidated by the secretary’s sharp gaze.

“What class is he in?” Ursula turned toward the intercom controls, her finger poised over the multicolored levers.

“Ah, I don’t know.” Skye cringed, expecting the worst.

Ursula jerked her head toward a table by the wall. “Look up his schedule in the box.”

She waited impatiently while Skye fingered through the large white cards in the bin indicated. Pulling out Zach’s, she looked at it blankly. “I’m sorry, I know this is sixth period, but there are two different classes listed for him.”

“Those are the semester classes. Look at the class marked ‘one.’ ” Ursula sighed loudly. “Semester classes are marked one or two to indicate which semester the student is taking them.”

“He’s in Home Economics.” Then more quietly to herself, she added, “I hope.”

After thanking Ursula, Skye fled the office. While she waited for Zach, she set up the room for the assessment.

Today she would be administering the Wechsler Individual Achievement Test. Skye routinely gave only six of the eight subtests—the ones measuring reading decoding, reading comprehension, spelling, paper-and-pencil math, story problems, and written language. The other two subtests measured language skills, and she felt those were better left to the speech pathologist.

Zach walked in quietly and dumped his backpack on the floor. “Too bad you called me from Home Ec. We were making cookies.”

“Oh, that is a shame. Would a Tootsie Roll Pop ease your suffering?” Skye reached into a drawer.

“It’d help some,” Zach allowed. “What’re we going to do today?”

Skye handed him the bag of suckers, and he again selected a chocolate one.

She then answered his question. “I’m going to see how good you are at reading, spelling, and math. We’re going to start with some story problems. Here’s a piece of scratch paper and a pencil. You can use it on all the problems except the ones I tell you not to. Ready?”

Zach nodded.

“Okay, since you’re in sixth grade we’ll start with number eleven. Remember, it’s just like last time. Some questions will be too easy for you and some will be too hard. It’s all right not to know some.”

He nodded again.

“Look at the picture of the fish. Find the fourth fish from the aquarium.”

They finished the last subtest, written expression, half an hour before the final bell. Skye had one more part of the testing to complete with Zach, the clinical interview.

“That’s it for this test, Zach. Now I’d like to ask you some questions about you and how you feel about things. Then we’ll be done.”

“What kinda questions?” Zach asked warily.

“Stuff like, When’s your birthday?”

“That’s easy. November twenty-third.” Zach grinned.

“Do you know the year?”

Things were going smoothly until Skye asked, “If you had three wishes, what would you wish for?”

“Three more wishes,” Zach answered promptly.

“What would be the first three things you would ask for with all your wishes?” Skye attempted to pin him down.

“More wishes.”

She gave up, recognizing this as a typical preadolescent response.

With a few more questions and answers Skye finished the interview and handed him a piece of unlined paper. “Here’s a sheet of blank paper. Draw a picture of a complete person.”

“I’m not very good at drawing. Can it be a stick figure?”

“Make it as complete as you can. Just do the best you’re able to.”

Zach turned the page several times before settling down to work. He finished the drawing moments before the final bell. Standing, he picked up his backpack. “Will I see you again?”

Skye smiled. “I’ll be visiting your class to see how your teacher teaches you, but you won’t need to come here again.”

“Oh.” Zach hovered in the doorway. “This was sorta fun.”

“You did a good job for me. I appreciate how hard you worked.”

“Is it true that you saw that dead lady?” Zach’s hand was on the knob.

“Yes,” she answered cautiously.

“Was there blood everywhere?”

She shook her head. “No. Did you know Mrs. Gumtree?” “Nah, but my uncle dated her in high school.” Zach looked down at his feet. “When I told him about taking all these tests with you, he asked if you mentioned seeing anything when you found her.”