Murder Of A Snake In The Grass (19 page)

After Simon left, Skye and Luc sat at the kitchen table with the papers spread out in front of them. She read for two hours and made it only three quarters of the way through. So far everything was extremely straightforward. The parts that pertained to her stated that she would serve on the board for three years, be reimbursed for expenses, and have equal voting power with the other four members.

She stood up and stretched. “Looks like I won’t have time to finish reading this today. I need to start dressing for the dance soon.”

A funny expression flickered over Luc’s features before he said, “You know, Simon was right. If you signed now, I could get back to New Orleans tonight.”

“True, but I just said I won’t be able to finish reading them.”

“Right, but you could sign anyway, and I could make you a photocopy of the part you didn’t get to read.”

Suddenly a heavy silence descended. It would be such a relief to get him on a plane and out of Illinois. If he were gone, she wouldn’t need to worry about being attracted to him or making a fool of herself again. But could she trust him? A cynical inner voice mocked,
Trust Luc? Sure. Why don’t you go buy a lottery ticket? The odds are about as good
. Besides, this was the second time he had tried to get her signature without letting her read the papers.

“Sorry. I really can’t sign something I haven’t read. You understand.”

Luc’s mouth took on an unpleasant twist. “Fine. And what shall I do tonight while you and Simon go to this all-important dance?”

Suddenly she’d had enough. “I don’t know, Luc. Go to Joliet to a movie, go to Chicago to a club, or maybe just go. Leave the papers, I’ll read the rest when I get the chance, and mail them to you.”

“I’m so sorry.” Luc stood and took her hand. “I know I’m being a swine, but it makes me so jealous to see you go out with Simon.”

Skye snorted, freed her fingers from his grasp, and walked toward the bedroom. “Fine. We’ll finish things up after school tomorrow. I have to get dressed now. Make sure the door is locked when you leave.”

T
alk about leaping from the frying pan into the fire. The Grand Union of the Mighty Bull’s assembly hall was filled, and almost everyone who had been at the Denison dinner that afternoon seemed to be at the dance, too.
Great
, Skye thought,
another evening of unending questions and unwanted advice
.

She mentally called a stop to her negative thoughts—it was silly to let her well-meaning friends and family upset her. It was time to quit worrying and have some fun. She was attending the dance of the season with a fantastic guy. What more could she ask for?

She pressed Simon’s arm and smiled up at him. He looked debonair in a pair of military-cut, sable-colored twill pants and a matching polished cotton shirt. The only formal occasions in Scumble River that required a tie and jacket were weddings and funerals.

He looked her over seductively. “Did I tell you how much I like your dress? What do you call that color?”

“Sea mist.”

Simon ran his hand up and down her back. “Feels good too.”

She felt a tingling in the pit of her stomach. “It’s silk.”

“Maybe we should skip the dance.”

Skye swallowed hard. Maybe they should. She and
Simon had grown so close this past summer while working together with the youth group. Every day, her feelings for him had deepened, and she had found herself more and more aware of his sensual appeal. A delightful shiver of desire ran through her. Maybe it was time to spend the night together.

No, she had to finish things up with Luc first. “I think it’s a little late for that. Too many people have spotted us.”

“One of these days you’re going to run out of excuses.”

On the stage Vince and his band, The Plastic Santa, were getting ready to play, but since the music hadn’t started yet, people stood in clumps on the dance floor talking and laughing. Along the outer rim, tables and chairs had been set up. A mahogany bar stretched across the back of the room. Legend had it that General U. S. Grant had had a drink at that bar.

Their progress was impeded by people stopping them to say hello. A wild waving from one of the side tables drew Skye’s attention. She tugged on Simon’s arm and pointed. “I can’t quite see over everyone’s head. Is that Trixie trying to get our attention?”

Simon looked over to where she indicated and nodded. “Want to go say hi?”

“I think we’d better, before she hurts herself.”

They edged left and arrived just as Owen, Trixie’s husband, was lifting her down off a metal folding chair. He looked ill at ease and kept tugging at the collar of his dress shirt.

Although Skye and Trixie were close friends, she didn’t know Owen very well. He seemed far more comfortable in his tractor shed than out in public.

As soon as Trixie’s feet hit the floor, she flew around the table and grabbed Skye. “We’re going to the ladies’,” she announced to the men, and dragged Skye off in the general direction of the rest room. The moment they were out of earshot she said, “So what happened with your big date with
Luc? Did you dump him? Is he on his way back to New Orleans? Come on, I’m dying to hear the scoop.”

Trixie finally paused for breath, and Skye quickly spoke up. “It was a great date, but Simon was at my house when we got back.”

“Oh, shoot. Was he mad?”

“Very, but after we talked, he seemed to understand.” Skye described the conversation to Trixie. “What do you think?”

The other woman nodded. “Yeah, he sounds okay with it. So what happened with Luc?”

“He should be gone by tomorrow night, Tuesday morning at the latest.” Skye proceeded to tell Trixie about the lost and found papers.

“Good. Things should be getting back to normal then.” Trixie pushed open the bathroom door. “And you survived dinner at your mother’s with Luc and Simon.”

“More or less.” Skye gave her friend a play-by-play of the afternoon. “The concrete goose in the wedding dress still worries me, though.”

A giggle came from behind the closed door of a stall. The toilet flushed, and Frannie Ryan walked out still adjusting her dress. “That’s too funny, Ms. D. Your mom must really want you married to be playing dress-up with the lawn statues.”

Skye didn’t tell the teen that May had a goose costume for each holiday. Some things were best left unsaid. “Frannie, it’s nice to see you here. How’re you doing?” She had been meaning to check on her and Justin, but as usual, time had gotten away from her.

“Fine. No problem.”

“That’s a pretty dress.” Skye was dying to ask whom Frannie had come to the dance with.

“Oh, thanks.” Frannie brushed at the pearl pink lace on the bodice. “I found it in my mom’s closet. Dad never threw out any of her stuff.” She smoothed the crinkled georgette
panels of the full skirt and asked, “Does it make me look fatter?”

Trixie answered, “It makes you look like a princess.”

“It sure does,” Skye agreed. Her gaze traveled the length of the skirt, which ended at the teen’s ankles. Poking out from beneath the frothy hem were heavy black Doc Martens. Someone needed to take this girl shopping.

“Well, we have to get back,” Trixie said, checking her hair in the mirror while Frannie washed her hands.

“Right, the guys will wonder where we vanished to.” Skye opened the door and gestured for Frannie to go first. “I imagine your date is looking for you too.”

Frannie shook her head. “No, I’m just here with Justin. We want to write up the murder and thought we might hear something more where there are lots of people. We figure if we get a good enough story, Mr. Knapik won’t be able to turn down our request for a school paper.”

Skye and Trixie exchanged looks. Homer Knapik would never voluntarily let the kids have a paper. He was too stuck in his habits and too burned out to allow anything new in his school. They’d have to find a way to force him to do it.

As the women and the girl parted, Frannie said, “Something you might want to check out, Ms. Denison. Justin and I heard that Grady was bragging all over town that even though the police arrested him and beat him and threw him in jail, he didn’t tell them anything he knew about the murder.”

Frannie was swallowed up by the crowd before Skye could absorb the meaning of her words. “Dang, why do teens always tell you the important stuff just before they disappear?”

Trixie snickered. “Because they’re teenagers. Duh!”

The music had started by the time the women returned to their table. Owen and Simon were missing, and Ginger and Gillian were sitting in their places.

As she sat, Skye said, “Hi. Where are Flip and Irvin?”
Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen her twin cousins’ husbands at the family dinner either.

Ginger answered, “Well, they tell us they’ve gone on a fishing trip.”

“But you don’t believe them?” Trixie asked.

“Oh, we believe them.” Gillian took a swallow of her beer. “But we know what ‘I’m going fishing’ really means.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, it means, ‘I’m going to drink myself dangerously stupid, and stand by a stream with a stick in my hand while fish swim by in complete safety,’” Ginger explained.

Skye and Trixie were still laughing at Ginger’s fishing story when Simon and Owen joined them.

Skye managed to choke out a question to Simon. “Where were you?”

“Talking to your mom and dad.”

“What did they have to say?”

“Oh, nothing much.” Simon grinned secretively.

“Okay, what did they really say?” Skye demanded.

Simon took her hand, pulled her out of her seat, and onto the dance floor. As they whirled away, he whispered in her ear, “Your dad said to tell Luc that he has a shot gun, a shovel, and five hundred acres in back of his house. So it would be a good idea for Luc to get the hell out of town, real soon.”

“What did you say?”

“I told your dad that I would be happy to pass on that message, and that considering my profession, I was pretty good with a shovel myself.”

Skye let that remark go, and she and Simon danced and talked to people until the band took a break. They made their way to the stage, where Vince was accepting a bottle of beer from a blonde. He turned to them while gesturing toward her. “Quite a girl, huh?”

Skye frowned. “Girl? Is she under twenty-one?”

Vince wrinkled his brow. “Lady?”

Skye shook her head.

“So if she’s not a girl or a lady, what is she?” he asked. “A Breasted American?”

“Very funny.” Skye changed the subject, knowing she would never change her brother. “The band sounded good.”

“Thanks. We’ve been practicing a lot more often since the mayor decided to let us use the bandstand in the park on weeknights. I guess now with the murder we won’t be able to use it anymore.”

“How long have you been doing that?” Skye asked.

“Oh, maybe six weeks or so. We tried using the salon, but it was too full of equipment. One of the guys let us use his garage, but the neighbors complained about the noise.”

“You must’ve drawn a crowd if you were practicing in the park.”

“No, you’d be surprised how deserted that place is in the evenings.” Vince took a swig of beer. “We did have a slight problem with some high school kids who considered the bandstand their private clubhouse, but we took care of it.”

“When’s the last time you used it?”

Vince tapped the bottle with his finger as he thought. “Thursday, the night before the carnival started. Why?”

“Did you notice any new graffiti that night?”

“Nah. Same old stuff. Why?”

“Nothing important. Just checking out something one of the kids told me.”

“See you later, Sis. Time to get to work.” Vince joined the other band members at their instruments.

Skye and Simon started back toward their table but were waylaid by Charlie. The big man hugged them both at the same time, one under each arm. “How are two of my favorite people?”

“We’re fine, Uncle Charlie. How about you? Did you find a new housekeeper?”

“Not yet.” He shook his head, and his snow-white hair swayed gently. “The people staying at the motor court are
driving me crazy. Used to be you provided a clean room, plenty of towels, and a TV, and they were happy. Now they want blow dryers, internet access, and microwaves.”

“Tough week.” Skye commiserated with him. She could see the exhaustion on his face. “But didn’t most of them check out today?”

“Yeah, but now that Scumble River is on the Midwest Fall Foliage Tour, they’ll be back as soon as the leaves start to change.”

“That’s a good thing though, isn’t it? Lots of business for you.”

“So Eldon Clapp keeps telling everyone,” Charlie grumbled. “I just don’t understand why if it’s tourist season, we can’t shoot them.”

Some friends joined Charlie, and Skye and Simon danced off. They were enjoying themselves when Skye spotted the mayor and Fayanne Emerick dancing together. That seemed peculiar. She didn’t think they’d be that friendly after their big fight in the Beer Garden a couple of nights ago.

She maneuvered Simon closer to the odd couple and was just in time to overhear Mayor Clapp wisecrack, “I haven’t spoken to my wife for eighteen months.” He paused, then delivered the punch line. “I don’t want to interrupt her.”