Murder Of A Snake In The Grass (28 page)

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Miss Letitia North lived in the center of Scumble River on the top floor of an old Victorian house. The bottom floor was occupied by the Historical Society and all the records of the town for the past two hundred years. No one was allowed to touch those papers except Miss Letitia and her assistant.

Skye pulled her Bel Air into the small parking lot on one side of the house, grateful that she didn’t need to attempt to street park the huge car. She walked along the sidewalk, admiring the late blooming flowers. It had finally turned a little cooler, and it was once again a pleasure to be outdoors.

She rang the old-fashioned bell, as per the instructions typed on a three by five index card taped to the window. After several minutes a small face pressed itself to the glass, withdrew and the door was inched open the length of its chain.

The woman pointed to the index card and said, “We’re open the first Wednesday of every month. Come back then.”

“I’d like to see Miss Letitia. My name’s Skye Denison. I’m May and Jed’s daughter.” Skye knew the protocol. In Scumble River one introduced oneself by one’s parents or sometimes grandparents.

“Miss Letitia is visiting her sister in Springfield. She will be back Friday.”

“Perhaps I could talk to you. Are you her assistant?” Skye couldn’t figure out who else the woman could be.

“Only on the first Wednesday of every month. Today I’m just here as a friend to water her plants.”

“Oh, so on days other than the first Wednesday of every month, you can’t talk about the town history?”

“That is correct.” The door closed in Skye’s face.

Now what was she supposed to do? She’d just have to wait until Friday. Unless maybe Charlie had some insight. Simon had to work at a funeral tonight, so she’d take Uncle Charlie to dinner and pick his brain.

On the short drive to Charlie’s, Skye went back and forth with herself. Should she find Luc and tell him once and for all that she wasn’t interested in him anymore? Or should she try to solve the murder and get him off the hook before she turned him down?

She pulled her car in front of the motor court and cut the engine. If she ran into Luc, she would tell him, but she wouldn’t seek him out.

Having made that decision, she bounced out of the car and pushed open the screen door of the office. “Yoo hoo, Uncle Charlie?” No one answered. She knocked on the connecting door to his cabin. Again nothing. Worry was beginning to creep up her neck when she heard a familiar voice swearing a blue streak.

Skye found Charlie half in and half out of cabin number nine. “Uncle Charlie, want to go grab a bite to eat with me?”

He leaned heavily on the cleaning cart and got to his feet, wiping his hands on a rag. “Why have supper yourself when you can clean up somebody else’s?” He pointed to the half cleaned pool of vomit near his feet.

“Oh, yech. Thanks for sharing.”

“You’re welcome.” Charlie’s grin was devilish. “So, why do you want to take an old man out to eat? You’ve got your hands full with a couple of young studs.”

“I thought maybe you could help me with some town history, since you’re a member of the Historical Society.”

“Oh, that. That was just to get the bicentennial going. I really don’t know much.”

“Anything about Pierre Scumble?” Skye asked.

“Nothing the mayor didn’t cover in his speech last Friday.”

“Dang, I guess I’ll have to wait for Miss Letitia to get back.”

“I suppose all this is about the murder? You trying to clear that no-good ex-fiancé of yours?” Charlie gave her a dark look.

“Yes, but only so he can leave town, and I can get on with my life.”

“Okay, then. Let’s go get something to eat.”

Over dinner at the Feed Bag she filled him in on the situation with Grady at school. He agreed to light a fire under the school board in support of better security.

It was nearly seven when Skye pulled into her driveway and found Luc sitting in his Jag. She briefly considered reversing the car and leaving but instead cut the motor and got out. Luc met her on the front steps and watched silently as she opened the door.

Bingo greeted her in the foyer, and Skye picked him up, hoping that the warm, furry body would make it easier to say what she had to say. “Luc, have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?”

He shook his head and sat on the couch.

“I’ll be right back.” She walked into the kitchen and punched in Simon’s number.

Funerals usually took place from six to eight, so she knew he wouldn’t answer, but she left a message saying she was okay and she’d talk to him tomorrow.

Skye returned to the living room and took the chair across from Luc. “I’m glad Wally didn’t keep you in jail.”

“Loretta’s an excellent attorney. Thank you for calling her for me.”

“That’s okay.” They had been so intimate at one time, and now all she felt was a sense of awkwardness.

“Listen, I wanted to tell you again how sorry I was about everything—especially not telling you about my ex-wife.” He attempted to lighten the atmosphere. “You know they say love is blind, but marriage is a real eye-opener.”

Skye gave a polite snicker. “I’m sure.”

“You’re not going to marry me, are you?”

“No, I’m sorry. I want something different now than I did when we first met.”

Luc got up and stood in front of her, taking her hands. “Just because someone doesn’t love you the way you want them to doesn’t mean they don’t love you with all they have.”

Skye got up and kissed him on the cheek. “I know. And I’ll always have a spot in my heart for you.”

“Chief Boyd has ordered me to stay in Scumble River. Could we at least have dinner or something?”

She steered him toward the door. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. When Wally gives you the deed, leave it with Charlie; he’s a notary. I’ll stop by the motor court and sign it.”

“So this is it?”

“Yes. Good-bye, Luc. Thanks for all the good times.”

“Adieu, darlin’.”

After he left, she sat in the lounge chair with Bingo on her lap. For the most part, she was thinking about Luc and the fun they’d had before things turned bad, but every once in a while she wondered what Grady might mean by a grand finale.

T
hursday morning, six a.m., Skye struggled to wake up. The idea of the New Orleans mob with her name on their hit list had made falling asleep a bit difficult. She had finally propped the shotgun her father had given her next to her bed, but she still startled awake at the least little sound.

In the shower that morning she kept thinking about the knife scene from
Psycho
. This whole situation had her spooked. The only thing Skye wanted was a hot cup of tea and ten minutes of peace. Instead, the second she poured the boiling water into her cup, the phone rang. She let the answering machine pick up but snatched the receiver from the cradle when she heard Wally’s voice.

“Wally, it’s me. What’s up?”

“Can you come to Grady Nelson’s house right away?”

“Uh, it’ll take me a couple of minutes. I just got out of the shower. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to talk about it over the phone. Just come as soon as you can.” Wally gave her directions and abruptly hung up.

Skye threw on a pair of khaki slacks and a black twin set. She pulled her wet hair into a ponytail with an onyx barrette and slid her feet into black loafers. Grabbing her watch and her cosmetic bag, she ran for the car. Maybe she’d have time for makeup later.

The Nelsons lived in one of the new subdivisions just inside the Scumble River School District. Previously, the county sheriff’s department had been responsible for that area, but it had been annexed into the city limits last summer.

It wasn’t hard to find the house, what with two squad cars parked in the driveway, their lights strobing. Skye pulled the Bel Air in next to Wally’s vehicle and got out.

The Nelsons lived in a large Tudor with lots of fancy windows and a three-car garage. No one could blame poverty for the way Grady had turned out.

Officer Quirk greeted Skye at the open double doors. “The chief’s in the living room with Mrs. Nelson. Go straight through the entry way, and take a right at the hall. He says for you to go directly in.”

“Thanks, Roy.” Why was Wally with Mrs. Nelson? Where were Mr. Nelson and Grady?

Following Quirk’s directions, Skye passed an impressive curving stairway and walked into a huge two-story living room with one entire wall of floor-to-ceiling windows. Whatever Mr. Nelson did for a living paid very, very well.

Mrs. Nelson and Wally were seated on a sofa in front of the fireplace. “Chief?” Skye didn’t want to sneak up on them. The poor woman was sobbing into a hanky.

Wally gestured for Skye to join them. “Mrs. Nelson, Ms. Denison is here now. You wanted to talk to her.”

Skye sat on the woman’s other side and shot Wally a questioning glance. He shrugged.

Mrs. Nelson grabbed Skye’s hand in a death grip. “You’ve got to save my son. Tell them. This isn’t his fault. He has problems. He’s got a learning disability and is emotionally disturbed. Please don’t let them put him in jail.”

Skye forced her face to remain passive. What had Grady done? “I’ll be glad to share the results of my evaluation with anyone you and Grady give me permission to talk to.” She turned to Wally. “What’s going on?”

Wally spoke to the woman. “Mrs. Nelson, now that Ms. Denison is here, can you tell me what happened?”

She looked at Skye, who nodded encouragement but wondered why Mrs. Nelson wanted her opinion.

“This morning at breakfast, Grady and his father got into an argument about going to look at the alternative school. Grady said he’d never go to that retarded school. His father said he’d go wherever he was told. Then …” Mrs. Nelson took a deep, sobbing breath. “Then Grady pulled a gun from his pocket and shot his father in the chest.”

Oh, my God!
Skye felt her heart race and her stomach clench but maintained her professional calm. She patted the woman’s shoulder with her free hand. “How awful for you.”

“I ran to phone for the ambulance, and when I got back, Grady was gone.”

“How’s Mr. Nelson?” Skye asked.

“His wound is serious, but he should be okay,” Wally answered.

“Please, can’t I go to the hospital and see my husband now?” Mrs. Nelson begged.

“Just a couple more questions, and then Officer Quirk will take you.” Wally made a note on his pad. “We have to find Grady. Do you have any idea where he might have gone?”

Before Mrs. Nelson could answer, Skye blurted out, “Nanette. What if he went to her house?”

Wally said, “Calm down. She’s safe. I’ve got an officer with Nanette, one at the bus driver’s, and a couple of deputies are patrolling the school area.”

“How about that list of Grady’s friends I left for you yesterday afternoon?” Skye was trying to think of everything at once. This was too serious to forget anything or anyone.

“It’s being checked out.”

They almost missed Mrs. Nelson’s whisper. “I know where he’ll be. He’ll go to Ursula’s. She lives in the old
family farmhouse east of town. He loves it there. She always protects him when we try to discipline him.”

Wally motioned Skye to follow him out into the hall. She freed her fingers from Mrs. Nelson’s grasp, massaging them to restore the circulation.

“What do you think?” he asked once they were out of ear shot. “If he’s at Ursula’s, will he take her hostage, or will she continue to defend him?”

“That’s a hard question. I’m pretty sure that if she changes her role from protector to more parentlike, she’s probably in danger. And considering she is Mr. Nelson’s sister, Grady’s shooting him may open up her eyes to his faults. I don’t suppose you have a SWAT team available.”

“I can borrow one from Kankakee or Joliet, but they would take at least an hour to get here.” Wally scratched his head. “What do you think of calling Ursula?”

“Good idea. You might be able to get an idea of her status.”

“How did Grady get a gun, anyway?” Skye asked.

“Mrs. Nelson doesn’t know. Claims he didn’t have it last week. She does laundry every Friday evening, and I have the feeling she searches his room while putting away his clothes.”

“That’s surprising. She doesn’t seem brave enough. I’ll bet she’s really careful to put things back exactly as she found them.”

“People can fool you.” Wally stepped back into the living room and asked Mrs. Nelson for Ursula’s number, then guided Skye down the hall into a room lined with bookshelves. He went to the desk, picked up the receiver, and dialed. “Ursula, Wally Boyd. I didn’t know if I’d catch you at home, or if you would’ve already left for school.”

Skye admired his neutral opening and wished she could hear the other end of the conversation.

“Oh, I see, of course. Can’t let the boy go without breakfast. Is he there right now? In the shower. Well, why don’t
you put the phone down and go check his clothes? If he has a gun, take it and leave the house immediately.” As Wally listened he scribbled a note on a piece of paper and handed it to Skye.

It read: Get Quirk!