Murder of a Smart Cookie: A Scumble River Mystery (21 page)

After the third ring, the door was flung open by Faith, who stood with her hands on her hips, scowling. “Yes?”

“May I speak to Nick, please?” Skye strained to see past the TV star. Except for boxes stacked everywhere, what she could glimpse of her cottage looked intact.

“Why do you want to speak to my fiancé?” Faith demanded.

“Yard sale business,” Skye explained, then said, “I thought you two were keeping your engagement a secret.”

“We were keeping it quiet, but we’ve decided to announce it at the conclusion of this week’s show.”

“Congratulations.”

Faith inclined her head imperially, then stepped aside. “He’s in the living room. Please don’t take too much of his time.”

Nick was sprawled on the sofa, surrounded by a sea of newspapers. He looked up as Skye entered, whipped off his glasses, and tucked them into his shirt pocket before saying, “Skye, what a pleasant surprise. Did you need something?”

“Hi.” She sat down on one of the matching director’s chairs and flashed him a pleasant smile. “No. Actually I just wanted to ask you a couple of questions, if that’s okay.”

“Sure, sure.” Nick started gathering up papers into a pile. “Excuse the mess. I promise the place will be just like you gave it to us when we leave.”

“Thanks.” Skye put her purse on the floor next to her and leaned back. “I’m not worried at all,” she lied.

“So, what can I help you with?”

“A little while ago, when I was doing my morning rounds of the yard sale, I saw Kirby running Cookie Caldwell’s booth, and he said you had told him to do it. As the sale coordinator, I’m wondering on what authority you gave that order.”

“Oh, should I have checked with you?” Nick asked.

“Well, technically, yes.”

“Sorry. When I found out I was the executor of Cookie’s estate, it just made sense to try and sell as much of her merchandise as I could. I figured it would make settling things that much simpler.”

“That makes sense.” Skye crossed her legs. “I didn’t realize you even knew Cookie. How did you come to be her executor?”

Nick straightened a pile of newspapers and didn’t look at Skye. “She was my sister-in-law.”

Before she could hold the words back, Skye blurted, “Your brother was the one dressed as a nun who died in bed with a hooker?”

Nick looked at her strangely. “That’s what the authorities claimed.”

“You didn’t believe it?”

“Let’s just say Harry was no friend of the Chicago Police Department.”

Skye processed that information, wondering if it could possibly have anything to do with Cookie’s murder. She couldn’t think of a connection, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t one.

Nick and Skye stared at each other for a moment until she said, “I’m still surprised you’re Cookie’s executor. A brother-in-law seems a little distant. Didn’t she have any family of her own?”

“She had a sister, but they weren’t close, and her parents are dead.” Nick leaned back. “And her son is disabled.”

“She had a special-needs child?” The twinge of guilt that Skye had felt when the sheriff told her about Cookie’s sad past turned into a full-fledged stab. “How old is he? Where does he live?”

“Ned’s twenty-two. He lives in a private group home in the city.”

Skye murmured, almost to herself, “That can’t be cheap.”

“No. And my brother spent every penny he earned, so there wasn’t much left when he died.” Nick frowned. “Cookie worked hard to pay for Ned’s care.”

Skye’s stab of guilt turned into a shooting pain. When would she learn not to judge people so harshly? “I suppose her estate goes into a trust for Ned, and you’re now his guardian?”

Nick nodded. After a moment of silence he asked, “So, is it okay to keep Cookie’s booth open for the remainder of the yard sale?”

Skye got up. “As long as the sheriff doesn’t mind, it’s fine with me.”

Nick followed her to the door. “Sheriff Peterson gave his okay yesterday. He’s releasing the body later today.”

“Where will you have her funeral?”

“I’ll have a private service in Chicago. Probably just Ned and me, unless her sister changes her mind.”

Skye had already walked outside, but turned back and took his hand. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

While Skye drove back toward town, she thought about what she had learned. It seemed she could scratch Nick off her list of suspects. What possible motive could he have to murder his sister-in-law? Unless he thought Cookie had killed his brother. But then, why would he have waited so long to take his revenge?

Glancing at her watch, Skye saw that it was nearly one o’clock. Still another two hours before she could talk to Montgomery Lapp. What should she do in the meantime? Her stomach growled an answer.

Skye parked her car back at the city hall, checked out a golf cart, and headed toward the Altar and Rosary Society food tent. First she’d have some lunch, then it would be time for her long-overdue chat with Bunny—on behalf of both her parents and Simon. When she talked to them tonight, she would finally have something to report.

An hour later, Skye left her golf cart in the bowling alley parking lot and mounted the outside stairs in the rear of the building. The narrow wooden steps seemed flimsy to her, and she hated having to use them. It felt as if they swayed as she climbed, so she clung to the railing.

The wind had picked up, and the hot, dry gusts did not improve Skye’s mood. She hoped they weren’t in for a storm. Heavy rain could ruin the yard sale in a way that two murders hadn’t been able to accomplish, and Dante would no doubt find some way to blame her and withhold the bonus he had promised her. She scowled, hating that she wanted the money so much, but she did. She longed to buy her cottage and finally own something substantial.

Normally, Skye would have approached Bunny’s place from inside the bowling alley, but the business was closed during the day for the week of the yard sale, and the entrance was locked. Fighting the wind to stay upright on the small wooden platform, Skye rapped on the apartment’s outside door. Several knocks later, she was ready to admit defeat and leave. Either Bunny wasn’t home, or she didn’t want to talk to Skye.

Suddenly the door opened and Bunny stood rubbing her eyes, which were bloodshot and smudged with old mascara. She was dressed in a pink satin negligee mat was split from just beneath her surgically enhanced
breasts to the floor. The cups were embroidered with crystal beads, and matching bikini panties peeked out of the slit every time she moved.

Skye didn’t even blink. Bunny had been a dancer in Las Vegas for twenty years, and some things, like her taste in clothing, would never change. Skye just hoped that her addiction to painkillers and her penchant for running away with huge sums of cash had been reformed.

Bunny grabbed Skye in a hug and dragged her inside, saying in one breath and not waiting for answers, “Skye, honey, what brings you here this time of day? I didn’t think I’d see you until after the yard sale wraps up on Sunday. Do you want some coffee?”

“No, thanks. I—”

“Well, I sure as hell need a cup.” Bunny didn’t let Skye go on. “I can’t seem to take the late nights like I used to. Before, I never went to bed until dawn. Now I can barely make it to two a.m., when the alley closes.”

Skye followed her hostess into the apartment’s minuscule kitchen, where there was just enough room for a two-burner stove and a half-size refrigerator. Skye leaned against the doorjamb as Bunny prepared coffee. Looking around the tiny space, Skye didn’t think many meals had ever been prepared in it.

After Bunny had had her first sip of caffeine and was settled on the living room sofa, Skye said, “I hear Dad’s been fixing your car. Is it about done?”

“That sweet, sweet man. I had no idea it would take so much work to get that old thing running. I feel bad stealing so much of your dad’s time. But Jeddy says he’s enjoying the challenge.”

Skye tried to untangle what had been said from what had been left unsaid. She still couldn’t figure out if her dad was just working on a car or if he’d moved on to its owner. She’d have to ask straight out. “Bunny, I don’t want to offend you, but my mom is really upset that he’s spending so much time over here. Should she be?”

The older woman pushed a tangle of red curls out of her face. “Skye, you should know me better than to have to ask.” She took another sip of coffee. “I would never ride another woman’s train.”

Skye opened her mouth to reply, but Bunny continued, “Of course, if May and Jed are splitting up, I wouldn’t mind being the first one in line to toot his whistle.”

Skye couldn’t think of anything to say in reply. Her only conclusion was that she needed to talk to her father; Bunny was out of
her
control, although hopefully not out
of
control.

Luckily, Bunny did not seem to notice Skye’s silence as she chattered away about the bowling alley and the yard sale.

When she started on all the visitors in town, Skye spotted her opening. “Yes, I saw you at the concert the other night with the TV writer. How did you happen to become friendly with him?”

“He was in the bowling alley bar having a drink on Saturday night, and we got to chatting.” Bunny fluttered her lashes, which was not very effective since she didn’t have her false ones on. “How do
you
know him?”

Was Bunny accusing her of something or just trying to distract her? Skye answered. “I met him when the TV crew moved into my cottage.”

“Oh, yeah, he mentioned that. Man, are they crowded. Miss Easton took the bedroom and master bath, and poor Kirby, Jody, and the cameraman are stuck in sleeping bags on the floor in the living room and sharing the guest bath. They flip a coin every night to sec who gets the couch.” Bunny shook her head. “I told him I spent a few nights on that sofa, and sleeping bags on the floor might not be a bad alternative.”

“Really? I thought you said my couch was comfy. As I remember, you didn’t want to leave it.”

Bunny gave Skye a roguish look. “Well, at the time I didn’t have many choices, did I?”

“No.” Skye had to admit that when Bunny had been her houseguest, not many options had been open to her. She had been broke, stranded in a snowstorm, and estranged from her only son. Trying to wrest the conversation back to what she wanted to know, Skye continued. “Kirby seems a little young for you—or did you have some other interest in him?”

Bunny smiled coquettishly. “Twenty years isn’t all that much.”

“Try thirty.”

“Oh.” Bunny shrugged. “Anyway, I wasn’t interested in him that way. I just thought my life would make a great made-for-TV movie, and maybe he’d want to buy the rights from me.”

Skye winced. Simon would have a cow if Bunny’s story made the airwaves. “Was he interested?”

“Kirby said it might be something he could sell, but my life has been too racy for the Christian network he currently writes for.” Bunny teetered to her feet, balanced precariously on three-inch stiletto mule slippers. “He said possibly he could sell the idea to the Playboy Channel,
if
I can come up with a good hook. He’s going to talk to the cameraman about maybe making a sample tape, if I think of something.”

Yikes! Skye cringed. “Do you have something in mind?”

“Kirby said I need something attention-grabbing, so I’m having a party at the bowling alley Friday night.”

“Party?” Skye yelped. “What kind of party?”

“Just a regular party. People buy tickets, and there’s open bowling, music, and free snacks. Not only will it be a profit maker for the alley, but it’ll give me a chance to do something that will grab Kirby’s attention. Right now he’s wishy-washy about the idea, so I have to come up with something dazzling to seal the deal.”

“Do you really think mat’s a good idea? People around here are pretty uptight about the sort of show that would be on the Playboy Channel, and Simon would be embarrassed.”

“Scumble River could use some shaking up.” Bunny frowned. “But I wouldn’t want to upset Sonny Boy, at least not too much.”

“Maybe you should talk it over with him before you do anything more.”

Bunny chewed her lip for a second, then giggled. “Nah, I still look good enough for
Playboy
.” She put her empty cup down on the edge of the coffee table, where it wobbled precariously. “Anyway, how could me being a star be a bad thing?”

Absently, while mulling over how to break the news to Simon about his mother’s plans, Skye reached out to steady Bunny’s discarded mug, and in doing so noticed the publication sitting next to it.

As Skye made her good-byes and left, she couldn’t help but wonder what on earth Bunny was doing with
PC Magazine.
The idea of Bunny on the Internet was nearly as scary as the image of Bunny on the Playboy Channel.

S
kye checked her watch as she carefully climbed down the stairs outside Bunny’s apartment. Shoot. It was still too early for the antique picker to be back at Trixie’s. As she sat on the bottom step and contemplated her next move, she heard a loud thud, the clang of a heavy metal tool hitting a concrete floor, and a string of profanities.

Tension settled into the back of her neck like a fifty-pound bag of kitty litter. Reluctantly, Skye looked across the alley. She had seen her dad’s pickup parked in the garage’s driveway when she arrived, but had ignored what the truck’s presence meant.