Murder of a Stacked Librarian (13 page)

As soon as they entered the restaurant, Skye was impressed with its new look. Little Mario’s previous incarnation had been a congested space with less than a dozen tables crowded under bright neon lights. This building had two large rooms and a bar all lit softly to enhance the dining experience.

Since it was nearly seven, which in a small town was late for dinner on a Tuesday night, Wally’s request for a booth in a back corner was easily fulfilled and they were seated right away.

Their server appeared immediately and placed a basket of warm bread in the center of the table. She poured olive oil into a saucer, added grated parmesan cheese and freshly ground pepper, and then asked for their drink orders. Because Wally was in uniform and driving a squad car, he asked for iced tea instead of his typical Sam Adams, and Skye stuck to her usual Diet Coke with a slice of lime.

As Skye and Wally looked over the menus, she said, “I’m torn. I’m starving, but I’m also a little worried that my wedding gown won’t fit. The holidays have really thrown my eating habits out of whack, and I’m afraid the dress will be too tight.”

“I’m sure it will be okay.” Wally covered her hand with his. “Any extra calories you’ve eaten will have been burned off by nervous energy. Besides, you’re beautiful the way you are.”

“Thank you.” Skye smiled. “But I always dreamed that when I got married, I’d look like my Barbie did in her wedding gown.”

“Hey.” Wally tore off a piece of bread, dragged it through the oil mixture, and fed it to her. “If Barbie’s so great, why do you have to buy her friends?”

Skye snickered.

“And if your dress is tight, you can always put on one of those Spanx thingies, right?”

She nodded, her mouth full. She was so lucky. A lot of men would have told her that missing a meal would improve her curvy figure, but Wally seemed to love her whether she was fat, thin, or anywhere in between.

After they ordered—tortellini paesano for her and pasta casareccia for him—Wally leaned back and sighed. “I sure hope we can wrap up this case before we leave on our honeymoon. Don’t get me wrong. Quirk is a good police officer, but he hasn’t had much practice investigating a murder on his own, and this is such an unusual situation.”

“We’ll figure it out before we go.” Skye paused to allow the waitress to serve their salads. Then, as she forked up a bite of the mixed greens, she added firmly, “And if we don’t, Quirk will do fine.”

Wally nodded, clearly unconvinced. “It’s just that the longer it takes to solve a case, the less likely that it will be solved.”

Skye made a sympathetic sound, thinking that Wally reminded her how crucial time was every time they worked together. Before she could come up with a response other than “so you’ve said,” a rowdy crowd of late teen and early twentysomethings burst through the entrance. When the group was seated in the booth next to Wally and Skye, his lips tightened at the interruption of their quiet dinner.

Skye opened her mouth to soothe his obvious displeasure, but shut it when she heard one of the guys say, “Janet, did you hear that librarian bi-atch who gave you a hard time a couple of weeks ago at the Christmas concert in Scumble River was killed over the weekend?”

Wally started to speak, but Skye held her index finger to her lips, cupped her ear, and jerked her head toward the rear of their booth. She was thankful that the kids behind them were evidently too self-involved to notice that there was a police officer present, even though Wally was dressed in his uniform. “Yeah, Cody,” Janet answered. “Della blogged about it yesterday.”

“I’m surprised she actually wrote about something interesting.” Cody guffawed. “The last time I read her blog, it was all about her dog taking a dump in her neighbor’s yard, how mean the guy was about the whole thing, and what kind of bag she used to clean up after the hound.”

“Yeah. That’s what she writes about, all right. And her baby niece’s diapers.” Janet giggled. “That girl is obsessed with poop. Believe me, I only read her blog in order to make fun of her.”

“Did she mention how she found out about the murder?” Cody asked. “The
Laurel Daily Herald
didn’t have anything about it on their Web site, and it wasn’t on the radio until this morning. The ’rents always listen to the local station while we eat breakfast, and the announcer called the story breaking news.”

“Della’s brother’s wife has a part-time job at the county building,” Janet explained. “And she overheard some of the lab geeks talking about how it looked like an accident at first but was really a murder.”

Wally ground his teeth, and Skye shot him a sympathetic look. She understood his frustration, but there were no secrets in a small town. Besides, the PD had released the news to the local media, so it wasn’t as if the crime techs had let the cat out of the bag.

“I bet you’re happy the wicked witch is dead,” Cody said, egging her on.

“Of course not.” Janet sounded offended. “Did you drink a second can of dumb today? I’d never be glad someone died.” The young woman’s tone turned thoughtful. “But she didn’t have to get so bent out of shape. It was none of her business that I was powdering my nose.”

As the bunch at the adjacent table cracked up, Skye and Wally exchanged a puzzled look. Why did Yvonne care if the girl was putting on makeup?

“She did almost get you busted,” a second male voice piped up. “You were just lucky that the cop on duty at the concert was crushing on you.”

Wally stiffened and Skye patted his hand. They’d said the concert was in Scumble River, which meant that the officer who’d let the young woman off was one of Wally’s employees. Who had worked the event?

“I am irresistible,” Janet drawled. “And Larry knew if he arrested me for doing a little blow, I’d have to let his boss know about his own dirty little habits. Who do you think’s my snowman?”

That explained it. Janet hadn’t been putting on makeup; she’d been snorting cocaine, Skye realized, then murmured almost to herself, “But who is Larry?”

“Zuchowski,” Wally mouthed, then muttered, “Lawrence Zuchowski.”

“That explains his absenteeism,” Skye whispered. “What are you going to do?”

“Fire his ass, then arrest him for dealing,” Wally hissed. “But first I’ll check our evidence closet to see if Zuchowski is getting his supply from the PD.”

“Shit!” Skye swore. “If he is, Uncle Dante will have a field day. You know he’s on a kick about how useless the police department is.”

“In this case, the mayor just might be right.”

CHAPTER 12

Chilled to the Tome

A
fter hearing about Zuchowski’s criminal activities, Wally barely ate his dinner and answered all of Skye’s attempts at conversation in monosyllables. Midway through the meal, she gave up trying to lighten his mood and concentrated on finishing her tortellini. They both refused dessert, and she was relieved to be back in the squad car heading home.

Thoughts of Zuchowski’s betrayal occupied Skye’s mind for most of the trip, and they were crossing into the Scumble River city limits when a horrible notion hit her and she gasped.

“What’s wrong?” Wally glanced at her.

“I just had an awful idea.”

“Worse than an officer I hired dealing drugs that he might have stolen from my evidence closet?” Wally’s expression was grim.

“Unfortunately.” Skye twisted her hands. She hated to make Wally feel even worse than he already did, but she had to say it. “What if Zuchowski murdered Yvonne to keep her quiet? She had to be upset that he didn’t arrest that girl she’d caught snorting cocaine.”

“Son of a B!” Wally roared. “You’re right; that’s a lot worse.”

“Sorry.”

He stared out the windshield for so long that Skye worried he’d become catatonic, but finally he said, “You’re right. We have to consider the possibility that Zuchowski is the killer.” He hit the steering wheel. “First thing tomorrow, we find out for sure if he’s in town or not. Now I hope he did leave on vacation with his girlfriend on Saturday like Quirk suspects.”

“Why don’t we swing by his place now and check?” Skye suggested, hoping to alleviate Wally’s concerns.

“Because Zuchowski not being home right this minute wouldn’t prove anything,” Wally snapped, then added in an apologetic tone, “We have to make him admit he’s out of state and has been since before the murder was committed.”

“You’re right.” Skye shrugged. “I didn’t think it through.”

Wally was silent until he pulled into the police station garage. Once they were out of the squad car, he said, “You go ahead home.”

“Aren’t you coming?” Skye asked. Since they’d become engaged, either she’d stayed over at Wally’s house or he’d slept at her place nearly every night.

“No.” Wally gestured to the door leading into the PD. “I want to check the evidence closet. This is a good time to do it because the mayor’s not as likely to pop in at ten at night as he is during the day.”

“That’s true.” Skye stroked his sleeve. “Uncle Dante is a real early-to-bed, early-to-rise kind of guy.” She paused, then asked, “But isn’t Mom dispatching tonight?”

“Yes.” Wally’s lips tightened. “Are you thinking she might tell Dante?”

“Not to get you in trouble.” Skye frowned. “But she’s not good at lying, so if he ever asked her, she’d probably blurt out the truth. And even if she didn’t, her body language would give it away.”

“Good to know.” Wally hugged Skye. “I’ll ask Martinez to stay after her shift ends to act as my witness. Then, when May leaves at eleven, we’ll take inventory.”

“That’s definitely the safest way to do it.” Skye put her hands on his chest. “You can come over after you finish. I might even wait up for you.”

“It’ll be late,” Wally warned. “We won’t get started until eleven thirty, and the accounting will take at least a couple of hours.”

“I can use the time to pack for our honeymoon. You did say we’re going somewhere warm, right? Is it Hawaii or the Bahamas?”

“Why? Is that where you want to go?” Wally arched an eyebrow.

Skye pretended to pout.

“It’s a surprise, remember?” Wally trailed a finger down her cheek. “A surprise means not knowing ahead of time.”

“Fine.” She thumped his shoulder. “So are you coming over later?”

“I better not.” Wally blew out a long breath. “I wouldn’t be very good company and I’ll be up early. It’s better if I let you get your rest.”

“Okay.” Skye kissed him. “Then I’ll meet you at the station at twelve thirty tomorrow. And I’ll go to the bank. It looks as if you’ll have your hands full.”

“So it seems.” Wally gave her one final hug, then released her. As he walked her to the Bel Air, he said, “Thanks for understanding, sweetheart. I really had hoped to be able to help you more these last few days.” Wally held the Chevy’s door open for her, and after she slid in, he said, “Let me know if there’s something you can’t do or something you absolutely need me to do.”

“Believe me, I will.” Skye put her key in the ignition. “And since I’ve done almost everything else for the wedding, you can write all the thank-you notes when we get back from our honeymoon.”

At his sudden stricken expression, Skye snickered to herself, waved, and drove away.

• • •

Waking the next morning, Skye realized that Wally had been right. She would have been exhausted if she had waited up for him the night before. As it was, when she’d arrived home, she’d barely had the energy to feed Bingo, clean his litter box, and drag herself up the stairs to bed before collapsing into a dreamless sleep.

Now, as she stepped into the shower, everything they’d learned yesterday whirled through her mind. A picture of Yvonne was beginning to form. She’d been a gorgeous woman who loved her daughter, but stood firm when Phoebe crossed the line. It couldn’t have been easy to refuse to allow the girl to go to college on schedule or to stand up to her ex-husband about the situation.

Skye poured shampoo into her palm, then lathered her hair while she thought about the conversation she and Wally had overheard at Little Mario’s restaurant. It would have been a lot simpler for Yvonne to pretend not to have seen Janet snorting cocaine than for her to report the girl’s drug use to the police.

Had the librarian stuck around to witness the arrest? Skye didn’t think so. From what she knew about Yvonne, the woman would have been satisfied that she had done the honorable thing and expected the officer to do his duty. But would Yvonne have checked to see if Janet had been charged? Skye doubted it.

On the other hand, the
Star
’s Police Beat column listed the arrests made each previous week, so it would have been easy to notice that charges hadn’t been filed against the young woman. Even if Yvonne hadn’t known Janet’s name, if there was no female in her early twenties arrested for cocaine usage in the paper, the librarian could have put two and two together and realized the officer to whom she’d reported the crime hadn’t followed through.

Skye turned off the water and grabbed a towel. The real question was, would Yvonne have sought out Zuchowski to question why Janet hadn’t been prosecuted, or would she have taken her concern to his boss—either Wally or Quirk? Skye was fairly certain the librarian would have gone up the chain of command, and clearly she hadn’t spoken to Wally. Had she talked to the sergeant?

Again, Skye was reasonably sure that Quirk would have brought the matter to Wally’s attention. Especially since it was clear that the sergeant was fed up with Zuchowski’s behavior. If nothing else, Quirk would have put a note in the rookie’s file.

After drying and flatironing her hair, Skye applied her makeup and put on a pair of black flannel slacks and a red turtleneck sweater. She packed the lingerie she planned to wear underneath her bridal gown in a duffel bag, then grabbed her wedding shoes.

Before adding the box to her carryall, she lifted the lid and admired the elegant peep-toe sling-backs. She fingered the Swarovski crystal on the side of the instep and the tiny white fur poof on the strap. They were perfect. It had been difficult finding a pair with a reasonable heel, but even though Wally was a good five inches taller than she was and she could have worn stilettos, she hadn’t wanted to spend the entire day with sore feet.