Murder of a Small-Town Honey (28 page)

The next few seconds seemed to tick by in slow motion as the Impala burst through the flimsy guardrail and became airborne. Skye held on to the driver’s door handle with all her strength, and prayed that her seat belt would hold.

She heard Mike groan as the car lurched and he was jerked toward her. In a quick glance to her right she saw that Mike’s seat belt had prevented him from sliding very far in her direction. The Impala hit the water, floated for a moment, and rapidly sank until it settled on the passenger side on the river bottom.

Skye sat for a moment, dazed by the impact and by the chaos she had put into motion with a turn of the steering wheel. Finally, she stole another peek at Mike. He had been pulled down and to the right. Cracks radiated in the passenger-side window around the place where his head had slammed into the glass. He looked dazed, but had not dropped the gun.

Skye quickly unbuckled her seat belt and struggled to wrench the door open. It was much harder than she expected. The force of the water acted as a wedge to hold the door closed. She could hear the blood pulsing in her head as she fumbled for the crank to roll down the window and relieve the pressure. Muddy water gushed into the car, and she was afraid she would drown if she didn’t act quickly.

She put all her weight behind one mighty shove, and the door flew open. She quickly thrust herself through the opening. Once out, she shot to the surface, sputtering and coughing.

Immediately she began to swim for shore, worried that Mike would be coming after her. She struggled up the riverbank and turned to look.

There was no sign of Mike. Then she remembered: Jed hadn’t fixed the latch on the passenger-side seat belt. Once it was buckled, there was no way to unfasten it.

On a Clear Day

Skye sat silently in the passenger seat of the old Buick Regal as it rattled into her parents’ driveway Wednesday afternoon. Although she was physically present, much of what was happening around her seemed to be playing on a movie screen rather than in real life. She watched May hurry out of the kitchen and Jed appear from the garage. She saw an unspoken signal go between her parents, broadcasting that neither recognized the car or the heavily tattooed man who got out of it.

As Jed stepped forward, the boy in the backseat bounced out and opened the front passenger door. He reached in and grabbed Skye’s hand, pulling her out of the car like a stuffed toy.

He was the first to speak. “This here is Miz Denison. She’s from my school. I found her by the river. You her folks?”

Hurrying forward, May put her arm around Skye, who was still soaked despite the heat’s rapid drying power. “Yes, she’s our daughter. What happened to you, honey?”

Skye didn’t answer, and the boy chimed in, “She ain’t said much since I found her.”

Jed walked over to the tattooed man and stuck out his hand. “Jed Denison.”

“Earl Doozier, and this here’s Junior.” He shook hands with Jed.

“Thanks for bringing her home. What happened?” Jed gestured to Skye, who stood dripping onto the gravel.

Junior spoke up. “I was playin’ near the river when this car started across the old bridge. Sudden like, it sped up, and then just drove offa the bridge—exactly like on TV. In a few minutes I seen Miz Denison swimmin’ to shore. Then I run home and got Daddy.”

Jed swore under his breath.

May exclaimed, “Oh, my God! Oh, my God!”

“She wanted Daddy to jump in the river to see if this here Mike guy was still livin’, but Daddy don’t know how to swim. When she found that out she made us drive lick ety-split to the police station, and she went in and came out right quick. Then we brung her here. Think she was tryin’ to kill herself?”

Skye spoke up for the first time. “Junior, I wasn’t trying to kill myself, but someone was trying to kill me.”

May, who had been herding them all toward porch chairs, halted abruptly. “Everyone, sit down,” she ordered. “Skye, tell us what happened.”

Her audience sat listening intently as Skye relayed the events prior to her trip off the bridge.

“What happened when you stopped at the police station?” May jumped up from her perch on the table edge and began to pace back and forth.

Sighing, Skye closed her eyes. “I didn’t want to find myself in the backseat of Chief Boyd’s squad car again, so I told Thea the story and asked her to send the rescue squad. I probably should have gone back to show them the exact spot, but I just couldn’t.”

Junior had seated himself at her feet and was leaning against her leg like a puppy. “Don’t you worry, Miz Denison, they’ll find it right off. You can see the car from the bridge. I looked when we drove over.”

Skye turned to her father. “Well, that’s it for the Impala.” A slight smile hovered at the edge of her lips. “Guess I’ll finally have to get a new car.”

Skye woke up with a start.
Where am I?
She slowly scanned the walls and realized she was back in her old room at her parents’ house. Memories of the last few days were nudging their way through the sleep-induced haze when May popped her head into the room.

“Come in. I’m awake,” Skye said.

“How are you feeling?” May sat on the edge of the bed and smoothed Skye’s hair from her forehead.

“Okay. What day is this?”

“It’s Friday. Doc Zello gave you a sedative and you’ve slept for almost two days.”

“So, the thing with Mike and the car wasn’t a dream?” Skye sat up and rubbed her face.

“No, I’m afraid not.”

“What’s been going on while I’ve been sleeping? Is Vince out of jail?”

May took the pillows and arranged them so Skye could lean back. “Vince has been home since yesterday. He’s staying here until things calm down a little. He insisted on opening the shop for his eight o’clock appointment today, so your father drove him to work. Jed’s cutting the grass at the shop for him.”

“Now I know I’m dreaming,” Skye said. “I can’t believe Dad has given in.”

May frowned. “I wouldn’t say that to your father.”

“No, of course not. What else has happened?”

“I’d better start at the beginning or we’ll be here all day. Let’s see. On Wednesday, right after Doc Zello started examining you, Simon and Wally arrived. Both had heard the news on their scanners. They both wanted to talk to you, but Doc Zello said absolutely not.”

“I’ll bet the chief was ticked.”

“Neither was a happy camper. They recovered Mike Young’s body and the negatives late Wednesday afternoon. I had already called your friend Loretta. That is one tough lady lawyer. She really got them moving to release Vince. Boy, was she mad when they wouldn’t let him go Wednesday night. She’s talking about a wrongful imprisonment suit.”

“Wow. Anything else?”

“Oh my, yes. The police searched Mike Young’s studio and found the gloves he wore when he stabbed Honey. They’d been washed, but blood always lingers.” May got up from the bed. “They also found the surveillance camera he had rigged at Honey’s condo and the listening device he had planted at your cottage.”

Skye closed her eyes and wondered exactly what Mike could hear. She certainly hoped it didn’t pick up sounds in the bathroom. “It must have been pretty busy around here.”

“You don’t know the half of it. Everyone we know has stopped by to see how you and Vince are, and they all brought food. I can’t get another thing in the freezer.”

“Wow.” Skye shook her head. “Gee, I’d love to take a shower and get into some fresh clothes. Could you go get me something to wear from my cottage?”

“Already done.” May grinned. “I got you a couple of outfits and your cosmetics. I knew you’d never willingly face the world without some makeup. I’ll bet you were the only Peace Corps volunteer in Dominica who wore mascara.”

 

Simon and Charlie were sitting at the kitchen table when Skye emerged from the bathroom. Jed and Vince arrived shortly after that. Chief Boyd pulled in seconds later.

He strolled into the kitchen, nodded at its occupants and said, “Could I speak to you alone, Skye?”

Simon, Charlie, Vince, and Jed said no, but Skye spoke over their objections, “Sure, let’s go into the den.”

The den was really a fourth bedroom that had been equipped with a sofa, chair, and TV.

Before the door was fully closed, Wally whirled on Skye and ground the words out between his teeth, “What in heaven’s name possessed you to drive your car over the side of that bridge? You could have been killed. Are you crazy or just plain stupid?”

Skye took a step forward so that they were nearly nose to nose. “What should I have done? Waited for you to rescue me? I’d be dead now, and you’d still be trying to pin the whole thing on my brother.”

“You could have . . . ah . . . you could have signaled someone for help.” His tone lacked conviction.

“Right. There are so many people hanging out on Cattail Path.”

“Well, you should have done something else.”

“That’s the point, Wally—there was nothing else to do. I would have rather died trying to get away than be shot like a helpless child.”

Wally shrugged and eased himself into the La-Z-Boy. “Okay, tell me everything that happened from the time Mike appeared at your house.” He clicked on a tape recorder. “All right if I use this?”

“Yes.” Skye sat on the sofa and explained the events leading up to her kidnapping and Mike’s death.

He nodded. “That’s what we figured. We found all kinds of stuff that Mike must have stolen from his friends and customers. There must have been a hundred ashtrays alone. Why would he do that?”

She shrugged. “Must be something in his background. Some need he was trying to fill.”

“Well, he didn’t have an easy time of it with his father that’s for sure. His dad was an alcoholic and liked to knock his family around when he was drunk.”

“I never knew that. Is that common knowledge in town?”

“Might be. Hard to keep secrets in Scumble River. But it’s one of those things everybody knows but no one talks about. Because if you admit to knowing it you’d have to do something about it. I only found out yesterday by looking at old police records and questioning some of the older dispatchers.”

Skye stretched and got up. “At least we don’t have to put everyone through the misery of a trial. You have enough to wrap things up, don’t you?”

The chief grudgingly agreed that the people being blackmailed had suffered enough, so he would let the matter drop. Skye was sure his wife’s involvement helped him make that decision.

Wally turned down May’s invitation to lunch and left.

The rest of them sat around the table and discussed the past few days as May began serving the food. First she placed a ham on the table and handed Jed the carving set. While he was occupied, she put out bowls of scalloped potatoes, Waldorf salad, creamed peas, pearl onions, and glazed carrots. Grandma Denison had sent over a batch of her rolls, served hot with butter. May poured iced tea and they dug in.

No one spoke until Skye finished her first helping and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Charlie, I forgot all about the board meeting Tuesday night. What happened with Lloyd?”

Charlie snickered. “Oh, we fixed his wagon. The district is now accepting applications for a new junior high principal.”

“How did you manage that?” Skye reached past Vince for a roll.

Leaning back, Charlie took a generous swallow of his iced tea. “You remember when my house was broken into, right?”

“That was Mike, wasn’t it?” Skye nabbed the butter as it was being passed.

“Nope, Lloyd did it. He was looking for Honey’s yearbook. I must have mentioned looking for it in front of him, and he got nervous about what he wrote by his name.” Charlie sipped his drink.

“What made you realize that it was Lloyd?” Simon questioned.

“I didn’t, but I took the opportunity when everyone was so involved in the murder to break into his office.”

“Oh, Uncle Charlie, how could you?” Skye’s knife hovered above the half-buttered roll.

“I knew there was something fishy about that guy. It turns out he and Mike Young had a scheme going with the school pictures. Say someone bought a package worth twenty-five dollars. Lloyd and Mike would take half the money and the records would show a payment of only twelve-fifty. The school board always wondered why the junior high’s profit on that fund-raising activity was so much less than the other two schools.” Charlie folded his hands over his stomach and grinned.

Vince wondered out loud, “So, Lloyd broke into your house and you broke into Lloyd’s office. Where was Mike Young in all of this?”

“Getting ready for his date with me, no doubt.” Skye shot Vince a look.

Simon added, “Don’t forget he was also searching Honey’s condo, rigging the surveillance camera, and bugging Skye’s cottage. I’d say he was pretty busy.”

“I want to know how he got hold of my shears,” Vince said.