Murder of a Wedding Belle (18 page)

“No. Belle was pretty open about her love life.” Skye arched a brow. “Did you two ever hook up?”

“Nah.” Gus shook his head. “I wasn’t rich enough, handsome enough, or famous enough for her.”

As Skye opened her mouth to ask about Liam, she heard someone hiss, “I don’t know why you’re mad. I took care of the problem.”

“No, you didn’t. You made it worse. I had to fix your mess.”

Skye craned her neck. “Did you hear that?” In the crowd of couples, she couldn’t tell who was speaking.

“Hear what?”

“Something about a problem.” Skye danced them toward Riley and Nick, but they were silent.

“Hey,” Gus protested. “I’m supposed to lead.”

Skye ignored his complaint and waltzed over to Tabitha Urick and Liam Murphy, who seemed to be having a lively discussion, but before Skye got close enough to hear what they were saying, Charisa announced, “Now we’re going to change partners. Ladies, please move one to the right.”

Skye ended up with Zach Hathaway, who asked, “How are things going with the wedding planning?”

“Fine.” She forced a smile. “Thank goodness Belle left meticulous notes.”

“She seemed like a person who paid attention to details.” Zach’s expression was unreadable.

“That she was.”

Skye was about to ask Zach if he had known the wedding planner well when Charisa said, “Now we’ll learn the bossa nova.”

“Damn!” Skye muttered. She hadn’t realized they would have to learn more than one dance.

“Not a fan?” Zach asked.

“No rhythm,” Skye confessed.

The bossa nova was a lot more difficult than the waltz, and Skye had to pay attention to her feet rather than question Zach further. After the first hour was up, Charisa called a ten-minute break and Riley made a beeline to Skye.

Pulling her aside, she demanded, “You have to do something about Nick’s stepmother.”

“Uh.” Skye had been hoping that Riley would let that issue go. “Like what?”

“Talk to her. Make her see how important it is that she cooperates.”

“Riley, I wouldn’t have any idea how to do that.” Skye was still thinking about what she’d overheard on the dance floor and didn’t have a quick excuse at the ready.

“You’re a psychologist.” Riley stamped her foot. “Psych her out.”

Skye winced. Why did so many people believe her degree in school psychology gave her magical powers? If that were true, did they really think she would be working in public education, making less money than the garbage collectors? And would she have had to take the job as Belle’s assistant to get her house fixed up?

Before Skye could explain the limits of a school psychologist’s abilities, Riley whirled around and marched off, demanding Nick’s attention.

A few seconds later, Charisa called the group back to order. This time Skye was paired with Liam, who looked nearly as uncomfortable as she felt.

When Liam took her in his arms, she said casually, “So, how’s everyone handling Belle’s death?”

“I don’t think any of us knew her on a personal level.” Liam’s response was formal. “I’m sure everyone is saddened by the loss, but it’s not as if she were a friend.”

“But I hear she was very friendly with a lot of men—at least one night at a time.” Skye watched the lawyer carefully. “Did you ever hook up with her?”

“No.” He looked down his nose. “Her promiscuity was common knowledge. I would never take the chance on catching some disease.” He shuddered. “Condoms break, you know.”

“Of course.” Skye nodded, remembering Gus’s remark about Liam’s health consciousness.

“Do you know how much longer this nonsense will last?” Liam asked.

“Forty-five minutes. It sounds as if you’re not fond of dancing either.”

“I don’t mind dancing, but I haven’t been able to get any work done today.” Liam edged them toward the door leading to the bar. “Would you mind if we sat this one out?”

“Not if you take the blame when Riley catches us.” Skye gave in. She really needed to rest.

Liam selected a table at the back and sat down. “It’s only one thirty on the coast, so I can still reach some people.”

“Fine with me.”

Liam took his BlackBerry from his pocket.

“I’ll just take a breather.” Skye sat down, hoping to overhear something useful.

Liam nodded and turned his attention to his phone.

Within minutes, the lawyer’s droning voice nearly put Skye to sleep. She didn’t understand most of what he was saying, and what she could figure out didn’t seem to pertain to anyone involved in Riley’s wedding.

Skye was close to drifting off when fingers bit into her shoulder and she yelped.

“What are you two doing in here?” Riley stood in front of Skye, glowering. “The lesson isn’t over yet.”

Liam slipped his cell back into his pocket and said smoothly, “Skye twisted her ankle. Since there’s so much to do for the wedding, she wanted to make sure she could walk on it tomorrow and wouldn’t have to cancel any appointments.”

“I see.” Riley crossed her arms. “Then at least come back where you can watch.”

Liam and Skye both jumped up. “Sure.”

“The rest must have helped your ankle.” Riley herded the two of them toward the banquet hall. “You don’t seem to be limping.”

“Yes.” Skye gritted her teeth. “My ankle feels much better.”

“Good.” Riley’s voice held a hint of satisfaction. “Then let’s get back on the dance floor. We’re not paying you to sit around.”

“Right.” Skye gave her cousin a weak smile. “No sitting around. Got it.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you people,” Riley complained. “You’re all acting as if I’m asking you to dig ditches.” As she walked away, she said over her shoulder, “Everyone should be thanking me for such a wonderful time. After all, weddings are the champagne of life.”

“Yeah,” Liam muttered once Riley was out of earshot. “It’s just too bad that marriage is the hangover.”

Five minutes later, as Skye struggled to learn the tango, she was seriously considering faking another injury. This time she’d been paired with Hale, and there was something so creepy about the young man, she could barely stand for him to touch her.

When she stumbled for the eightieth time, Skye looked up and froze, mesmerized by the infuriated glare on his face. She quickly mumbled, “Sorry.”

“If you’d lose some weight, this wouldn’t be so hard for you,” Hale snapped.

Skye yanked her hand from his grasp, having reached the end of her patience with the rude young man, “Remind me, are you the good twin or the evil twin?”

Hale’s face turned magenta, and he yelled, “You women all think you’re so perfect, but none of you are.”

“That does it.” Skye narrowed her eyes. “Go finish puberty somewhere else.”

Hale opened his mouth, then snapped it closed, whirled around, and stomped out of the hall.

As everyone watched him slam the door behind him, Skye wondered just how mentally unstable Hale really was.

Something Borrowed

S
kye pondered Hale’s behavior as she walked back to the motor court. His comment about all women thinking they were perfect had to refer to Belle. After all, at Skye’s first meeting with the wedding planner, Belle had been quick to point out her perfection. There was also Hale’s sister, who was bucking for sainthood. Not to mention Riley, his soon-to-be-stepmother, another woman who acted as if she farted perfume. Skye nodded. Yep. He probably meant all three of them.

The sound of Frannie’s voice greeted Skye as she opened the door to the cabin where the teens were working. “No, I’m sorry, she’s still not here.”

As Skye walked in, Frannie looked up, then said into the receiver, “Wait one second; she just got here.” Frannie turned to Skye and demanded, “Why isn’t your cell on?”

“I have no idea.” Skye didn’t remember turning it off, but then again, she didn’t remember not doing it either.

Frannie held out the phone to Skye. “It’s Simon. He’s been calling every ten minutes.”

“Take a message.” She so didn’t want to talk to her ex-boyfriend right now. She was too busy dealing with a wedding and a murder to have time to discuss their past relationship. She probably should have sent him a thank-you for the flowers he’d had delivered to her on Monday. His note of apology for the snarky remarks he’d made at the crime scene on Sunday had been sweet.

Frannie grunted and shoved the receiver into Skye’s unwilling hand.

Skye gave in and spoke into the handset. “Hi, Simon. It’s me.”

His usual laid-back tenor was gone, replaced by an agitated rumble. “Bunny’s in trouble.”

Simon’s mother, Bunny Reid, had arrived in Scumble River two and a half years ago after a twenty-year absence from his life. At the time, she’d been addicted to painkillers she’d been given when she hurt her back and was on probation for trying to forge prescriptions to obtain more of them.

To stay out of jail, she’d had to attend Narcotics Anonymous meetings, find work, and establish a permanent address. Simon had helped her with the last two by purchasing the local bowling alley and allowing her to live above it while she managed the business. Since then, Bunny had mostly cleaned up her act, but she still occasionally contributed a few gray strands to Simon’s auburn hair.

“What did she do?” Skye questioned.

Frannie and Justin sat on the floor and stared at Skye, not pretending to do anything but listen to her conversation.

Skye gave the teens an exasperated look and attempted to stretch the phone cord as far as the bathroom, but it wouldn’t reach.

“I hope nothing.” Simon’s voice cracked. “But Boyd took her in for questioning a couple of hours ago.”

Skye gasped. “Why?” What in the world had happened while she was wasting her time learning to boogie?

“I have no idea.” Simon blew out an exasperated breath. “The bartender called and told me the cops had taken her away. I went straight to the PD, but no one would tell me anything.”

“Is my mom there?”

“No. She worked the day shift and was gone by the time I got here.” He paused, then continued, “I don’t know the man who’s working, but he must be one of the new dispatchers.”

“Have you talked to Wally?”

“No. I haven’t been able to persuade anyone to get Boyd for me, and I can’t get into the back of the station. Being the county coroner isn’t cutting any ice with the dispatcher.” Simon sighed. “I’m sorry to drag you into this, but I can’t think of anyone else who can help.”

“That’s okay.” Skye liked Bunny and thought the high-spirited redhead was good for Simon, who tended to be a little stuffy. “I’m glad you called me.”

“So, you’ll help?”

“Of course,” Skye said. “Let me try Wally’s cell.”

“I tried it, but maybe he’ll answer if it’s you.”

“Do you want to hang on?”

“Yes.” Simon’s one-word response was clipped.

Skye took her cell phone from her pocket, turned it on, and punched in Wally’s number. When the call went immediately to voice mail, she hung up and said to Simon, “Sorry, he’s not picking up.”

“Can you come down here?” Simon asked. “I know you’re busy, but I need you.”

“I’ll be there in five minutes.” Skye was touched. In all the years they’d dated, she couldn’t remember Simon ever admitting he needed her, or anyone else for that matter. “Meanwhile, call my mom. Maybe she knows something or can at least intercede with the dispatcher for you.”

“I’ll do that right now.” Simon’s tone was hesitant. “I don’t want to cause any trouble between you and Boyd, but I really appreciate this.”

“No problem,” Skye said immediately, then paused, wondering whether Wally
would
take issue with her for helping Simon. She shrugged. If he did, that was just too bad. She and Bunny were friends, and it was past time for Wally to get over his jealousy of Simon.

Turning to Justin and Frannie, Skye said, “When you’re done assembling and tying the ribbons on the place cards, arrange them in order in these.” She pointed to a stack of eight-by-ten boxes with the numbers one to fifty written in black Magic Marker on the lids. “One set per table. When you’re done, you can call it a day.”

“What did Simon want?” Frannie scooted between Skye and the door. “Where are you going?”

“I’ll be in town.” Skye edged past her. “If you need me, call my cell.”

“Wait a minute.” Frannie ran after her. “Is Simon in trouble?”

“No.” Skye got into the Bel Air and slammed the door before Frannie could ask any more questions.

 

When Skye arrived at the police station a little before five, half a dozen cars were parked in the lot it shared with the city hall and library, which wasn’t a good sign. Business hours ended at four, and the library closed at noon on Tuesday, so there should have been only two vehicles—the dispatcher’s and the on-duty officer’s. What kind of trouble had Bunny gotten herself into this time?

As Skye pushed open the glass door, she could see Simon pacing back and forth in the tiny waiting room. His appearance was a shock. He usually looked as if he had stepped directly out of the pages of
GQ
, but today his hair was uncombed and he was wearing stretched-out sweatpants, a paint-stained T-shirt, and holey tennis shoes.

He greeted her with, “No progress here. Your mom wasn’t home.”

“That’s odd,” Skye murmured. “She and Dad should be just sitting down to supper. And she didn’t mention going anywhere when I talked to her yesterday. It’s so unfair; if I’m not where she expects me to be, she freaks, but she gets free range.” She shook her head. “Mothers.”

“At least yours isn’t under arrest.”

“Good point.” Skye walked over to the glass partition that separated the radio area from the lobby. “Let me see what I can do about yours.”

“Yes?” The dispatcher, whose name tag read LONNY, spoke through the intercom.