Murder Of A Snake In The Grass (33 page)

“Which meant they still thought they needed the letter,” Skye added.

“Yeah, it was a little too valuable to just get rid of.”

“Ironic that it will end up being the key that locks Eldon Clapp behind bars for a very long time.”

I
t had been a tough week for the town of Scumble River. Mayor Clapp and Fayanne Emerick, while not always the most popular residents, were an integral part of the community. The disclosure of their villainy had hit everyone hard.

Skye had spent many hours tying up loose ends. One of the things on her list had been talking Homer into allowing Frannie, Justin, and their friends to start a school newspaper. At first Homer had been adamant—no newspaper. But Skye took to stopping by his office several times a day and repeating her request. She had finally worn him down with the promise that she would sponsor the activity. How much trouble could a bunch of bright kids writing stories get into?

Another item on her agenda had been finding out what was going on with Charlie. On Monday after school she had confronted him about his look of exhaustion, odd behavior, and absences. He finally confessed he was seeing a woman over in Laurel. He didn’t want to tell anyone until he decided if the relationship would last. It hadn’t. They had ended things the night before. Skye was relieved. The relationship had obviously been bad for his health.

The rest of her questions had to wait until Wally had time to talk to her. He had finally agreed to join her for lunch at her place on Saturday.

*  *  *

Saturday afternoon, Skye could see the weariness in Wally’s posture as she guided him through her cottage and toward the chaise on the patio. “Have a seat. I’ll be right back with the food.”

He dropped into the chair with a sigh, put his legs up, and closed his eyes.

She hurried back inside and grabbed the tray she had prepared. It had been a long seven days since she had walked out of the police station after Fayanne’s and the mayor’s arrests. No way was she going to let Wally fall asleep on her. She had waited too long to find out the whole story surrounding Snake Iazetto’s murder.

“Lunch is served.” Skye made as much noise as possible as she put the tray on the round glass table between the two lounges.

Wally opened one eye. “Keep it down. I have a splitting headache.”

“Would you like some aspirin?”

“Thanks, I have my own.” He pulled a prescription bottle from his pocket, opened it, and poured a capsule into his palm. “What’s for lunch?”

“Beef stew, homemade rolls, salad, and brownies. There’s coffee in the carafe.”

“Sounds great.” Wally started to fill his plate. “You baked bread?”

“No, these are from Grandma Denison. When she heard Luc left town last Sunday, she called me over and gave them to me along with some advice. I froze the rolls until today, but I’m going to try and live the advice.”

Between mouthfuls, Wally asked, “What piece of wisdom did she impart?”

“That I need to learn how to fall in love without losing myself.”

“Sounds like something we all need to keep in mind.” Wally continued to eat. “This is the best food I’ve had in quite a while, but I know that you didn’t invite me to lunch
just because you wanted to feed me. Go ahead and ask your questions.”

“Thanks. I would like to wrap up some details, just for my own satisfaction.” Skye took a sip of her Diet Coke. Where to begin? “Gabriel Scumble, the real one, what’s the story with him? Why didn’t he show up and why couldn’t they find him in Montreal?”

“He didn’t make it to the bicentennial because the poor man had a stroke while waiting at the airport to board the plane. He has no relatives, and he had given the week off to his personal assistant, so when the hospital tried to contact someone about him, it took several days to find anyone they could inform. He was unconscious until last Friday, and at that point contacting someone in Scumble River wasn’t their first priority.”

“Why was his penthouse all packed up and all the personal information gone?” Skye paused, a forkful of salad at her mouth.

“He’s in the process of moving to France. Everything was boxed and waiting to be shipped. He’d been staying at a hotel and had all his personal items with him in his suite.”

“I wonder why the building manager didn’t tell the police that.”

Wally finished his lunch and pushed his plate away. “Who knows? But Gabriel Scumble is extremely wealthy, and that might have something to do with it. A lot of rich people put a high price on privacy and pay the help very well not to reveal anything about them.”

“So I understand.”

“One good thing that has come from all of this is that Gabriel Scumble is giving the town of Scumble River a check for one hundred thousand dollars.”

“Why?”

Wally smiled. “He’s trying to make up for his family’s long history of cheating people. He’s the last of the Scumbles and wants to repair the name before he dies. Of course,
he’s no fool. The money comes with the condition that no one in town will try to sue him for anything Pierre may or may not have done to their ancestors.”

“I wonder what the town will do with all that money.” Skye got up and cleared the dishes.

“Argue.”

“Too true.” She came back with a fresh pot of coffee and a plate of brownies. “So Iazetto’s body had no identification on it because he hid his wallet and rental car papers in the lamp, right?”

“Correct, and Grady stole the rest.”

“Let’s see. Grady got the keys to the rental car, the back of the mayor’s watch, and the letter from Pierre Scumble to Mayor Clapp that the mayor dropped when he was struggling with Iazetto. Okay, then what were the papers Nanette mentioned, and whose gun was it?”

Wally swallowed a bite of brownie. “As far as we can tell, the gun was Iazetto’s. His were the only prints on it, besides Grady’s. And we think the papers were the IOU your boyfriend signed for Iazetto. They must have washed away when the car was submerged.”

“When did you find out that Luc owed Iazetto money?”

“Amant told me the whole story when I returned the deed to him and told him he was free to go back to New Orleans.” Wally licked his fingers. “I suppose you knew all along.”

“Not until you arrested him.” Skye quickly steered the conversation in another direction. “I hope Luc pays back the Iazetto family really soon. I signed the deed the day you gave it back to him. And I’d like to know that the mob isn’t going to come beating down my door in search of their money.”

“You’re probably safe. The ‘family’ would have a hard time blending into Scumble River.”

Skye shaded her eyes. The sun was bright today but not hot. A lot had changed in the last two weeks, including the
weather. “I think I figured out how Fayanne’s lipstick got on the handkerchief.”

“How?”

“When Iazetto arrived at the Founder’s Day Speech, Fayanne kissed him as he got out of the car. My guess is he used his hanky to rub her lipstick off his face and then again when she gave him the bloody nose at the Beer Garden.”

“That’s as good a guess as any.” Wally leaned back and closed his eyes. “Fayanne maintains she and the victim were not intimately involved.”

“There’s one thing I haven’t been able to figure out. I know the mayor had to have followed Grady that night in order to retrieve the watch and the letter, but how did he do it? I mean, Grady and his gang took quite a long joy ride in that stolen car.”

“Clapp says he discovered that the watch and letter were missing and figured he must have dropped them at the bandstand. He went back there and arrived just in time to see Grady pick up the stuff. Since everyone had parked at the motor court, the mayor’s car was right there and he could follow them. He waited behind some trees at the recreation club gate because he figured they had to come back out that way. When they came out walking, he followed Grady home on foot.”

“He was lucky Grady didn’t stash the watch and letter in the rec club somewhere.” Skye checked her own watch. It was two-thirty. Simon was picking her up at five for their weekend in Chicago.

“The mayor decided that Grady would wait until he was alone to hide the stuff,” Wally said, and crossed his legs. “Anything else, Miss Marple?”

Skye debated whether to ask this last question. It really was none of her business, but she was concerned. She shrugged mentally. He could always refuse to answer. “Wally, this isn’t really about the murder, but I am worried about something.”

“Yes?”

“Well, when I called you the night of the murder, you sounded funny on the phone, and then when we met at the station, you seemed a little unfocused at first. And that’s happened a couple of other times. Plus, it was unusual for you not to attend the dance. Is everything alright with you?”

“I figured you had noticed.” He sat up and swung his legs off the chaise lounge. “You have to keep this a secret. You can’t tell May or Charlie or Trixie or anybody. Promise?”

Skye caught her breath. What was he going to confess to? “Cross my heart.”

“I’ve been having terrible headaches and trouble sleeping for several months, so I finally went to the doctor. He’s doing all these tests and has me trying all this stuff at home. Every time you’ve called, I’ve either been attached to a bunch of machinery or just fallen into a deep sleep. The night of the dance, my headache was so bad I took a pill and went to sleep at seven o’clock.”

Skye covered his hand with hers. “I’m so sorry. Are you feeling any better?”

“The doc thinks it might be stress-related.”

“That could do it. Has something changed in the past few months?”

Wally sighed. “Darleen’s been calling.” With that bombshell, he refused to say any more, claiming he had to get back to the police station. Soon afterward he said good-bye and left.

Skye cleared up the mess from their lunch and checked her watch again. Only three o’clock. She had plenty of time to pack and make herself beautiful.

Simon had reserved a suite at one of the best hotels in Chicago. They had enjoyed room service for dinner and were relaxing with a glass of champagne as they gazed at the beautiful skyline.

“So, did you sign that deed for Luc?” Simon asked.

“Yes. Charlie acted as go-between so I wouldn’t have to see Luc again.” Skye closed her eyes and sighed. “Just think, for a while there I was a millionaire, and I didn’t even know it.”

“You probably could have asked for a percentage of the money when the land is finally sold.”

“No, this way it’s a clean break. There’s nothing to tie me to Luc. I can finally write ‘the end’ to that chapter in my life.”

Simon clinked his glass against Skye’s. “To the beginning of the next chapter.”

She took a sip of the sparkling liquid. “You are a wonderful man. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to figure that out.”

“You’re a special woman. I’m glad I waited.” He slipped his arm around her.

Skye snuggled back against him. “You really didn’t have to get a suite. A regular room would have been fine.”

“Ah.” Simon led her through the bedroom to the bathroom. “But a regular room wouldn’t have this.” He swung open the door and revealed a huge circular tub in the center of the floor.

“Oh, my!” She could feel the color rising in her cheeks. “You should have told me. I didn’t bring a bathing suit.”

“Perfect.”

The Scumble River Mysteries

When Skye Denison left Scumble River years ago, she swore she’d never return. But after a fight with her boyfriend and credit card rejection, she’s back to home-sweet-homicide.

MURDER OF A SMALL-TOWN HONEY

MURDER OF A SWEET OLD LADY

MURDER OF A SLEEPING BEAUTY

MURDER OF A SNAKE IN THE GRASS

MURDER OF A BARBIE AND KEN

MURDER OF A PINK ELEPHANT

MURDER OF A SMART COOKIE

MURDER OF A REAL BAD BOY

MURDER OF A BOTOXED BLONDE

MURDER OF A CHOCOLATE-COVERED CHERRY

MURDER OF A ROYAL PAIN

MURDER OF A WEDDING BELLE

Available wherever books are sold or at

penguin.com

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