Murder of a Chocolate-Covered Cherry (15 page)

The doorbell rang as she was slipping on pink Skechers, but she took time to put on lipstick and take one last glance in the mirror before going to answer it. Wally’s recent history of breaking dates suggested he was taking her for granted lately. It wouldn’t hurt him to cool his heels on her front porch for a few minutes.

After passing her own inspection, Skye made her way downstairs, took a quick look out the peephole, and opened the door. Her welcoming smile faded as she noted that Wally was in uniform. That he hadn’t changed meant either he was still on duty or had been so busy he couldn’t get home before coming over. Either scenario did not bode well for a relaxing evening.

At least he held a pizza box. She was starving, and the only ingredients she had on hand were those that went into her contest entry. And she was pretty sure they were both sick and tired of Chicken Supreme.

Wally silently handed Skye the pizza, strode through the door, and shed his jacket. He hung it and his gun belt on the foyer’s coatrack, then took the pizza back and tossed it on the table.

Finally he turned toward her and said, “It seems like years since we’ve spent more than five minutes together.” Without waiting for her response, he swept her into his arms and added in a lower, huskier tone, “Damn, I’ve missed you so much.”

As his lips claimed hers, Skye caught a glimpse of his expression. Passion and something she couldn’t quite read warred in his dark eyes. Deciding not to worry about it for the moment, she put her arms around his neck and buried her hands in his thick black hair. She loved the crisp feeling of the strands as they feathered through her fingers.

His kiss sent the pit of her stomach into a wild Tilt-A-Whirl ride, and she pressed closer, her body tingling from the contact.

Wally groaned and parted her lips, his tongue exploring the recesses of her mouth.

He tasted sweeter than her favorite chocolate, and she wanted to devour him. She forgot about the murder, the kidnapping, and all her other worries and enjoyed the moment.

Wally’s fingertips were icy as his hands crept under her shirt, but his palms were fiery hot when they cupped her breasts.

She caressed the planes of his back, and they moved as one toward the stairs.

Skye blindly stepped backward, expecting to encounter nothing but hardwood floor. Instead her shoe came down on a throw rug, which somehow wrapped itself around her ankle, causing her foot to slide out from under her.

She was about to do the splits in slow motion, but Wally grabbed her upper arms, trying valiantly to keep both of them upright. There was an instant when it seemed he had succeeded; then the rug slithered farther away, and Skye toppled over.

At the last minute Wally thrust himself sideways to avoid landing on top of her, and for a split second their fall seemed frozen in time, like some bizarre ballet routine. Then, as her back and head hit the edge of the stairs, the hurt swept away all of her fanciful thoughts.

Skye had no idea how long she lay there absorbed in
pain, but when she was able to focus she looked to where Wally lay sprawled motionless on the hardwood floor. In saving her it appeared he had hit his head on the newel post. Her heart stopped, and she couldn’t swallow the lump that had risen in her throat.

Whimpering, she raised herself on one elbow. “Wally, sweetheart, are you all right?”

It seemed like forever, but he finally sat up, fingering the back of his head. “I’m fine. How about you?”

“I’m not sure.” The room was spinning, and she was slightly nauseous.

He immediately leapt to his feet. “Stay right there.” Staggering a little, he rushed to her side. “I’ll call an ambulance.”

“No. Wait.” She put her hand out. “Help me up.”

“You shouldn’t move if you’re injured.”

Skye ignored him and got to her knees. The pain in her back made her gasp, but she forced herself to her feet. “See? I’m fine. Just a little shaken up.”

He wrapped an arm around her waist and they hobbled into the parlor. Lowering themselves onto the settee, they both let out sighs.

“What the hell happened?” Wally cradled Skye against his side.

“It’s this house.” Skye shook her head, and the pain shooting through her skull made her realize that movement of any kind was a bad idea. “For some reason it doesn’t want us to be together.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Wally touched the bump on the back of her head. “Maybe we should let a doctor take a look at you. You’re not being rational.”

Skye jerked away from him, the stab of pain that surged up her spine reminding her once again that quick movements equaled suffering. “Don’t start that rational stuff on me, or I’ll think you’re channeling Simon. And we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

“That was a low blow.” Wally scowled.

Skye raised an eyebrow. “If the personality trait fits …”

“Okay, forget rational. It doesn’t feel like the house hates
me. There aren’t any cold spots. The lights don’t flicker. The doors don’t lock me out.”

“Maybe not, but I swear that rug was not at the foot of the stairs when I came down to let you in, and it’s not the only time something bad has happened.” Skye scrunched up her face, thinking. “There was the first time we kissed in this house and the kitchen faucet did an impression of Old Faithful.” Skye held up her index finger. “Then there was the mirror that smashed to smithereens the first time you tried to take my bra off, and the space heater that blew up the next time things got hot and heavy between us.” She wiggled three fingers at him.

“It’s an old house,” Wally stated, but sounded less sure as he added, “Things are bound to go wrong.”

“Right. So, why have we spent all our time together at your house since the explosion?”

He shrugged. “Coincidence.”

“And since we’re on the subject, why didn’t you want to meet there tonight?”

“Well…” Wally’s face clouded with uneasiness. “That’s one of the things I wanted to talk to you about.”

Suddenly Skye didn’t want to hear what he had to say. “I’m starving. I bet you are too.” She hated surprises. “How about we heat up the pizza and talk while we eat?” She popped up off the settee, ignoring the ache in her back. “I’m pretty sure the house will let us eat in peace. It just seems to dislike it when we touch.”

“Okay.” He looked puzzled by her abrupt change of mood, but stood up. “I’ll grab the pizza from the hallway and meet you in the kitchen.”

“Great. You want a beer or are you still on duty?”

“They’ll only call me if something comes up with the murderer or the missing girl, but I guess I’d better stick to Diet Coke just in case.”

Skye nodded and scurried into the kitchen. She set the dial on the stove at three-fifty to preheat, then got two glasses from the cupboard. She was already pouring the soda over ice when Wally came in carrying the now-cold pizza.

After she wrapped it in foil and put it in the oven to re-heat, she sat down and immediately started telling Wally everything she could think of regarding the murder and Ashley—up to the point where Skye had broken into the Dairy Kastle.

He listened and took a few notes, but the only thing she had to say that got a rise from him was her news about the person who had helped May that morning, and finding the factory jumpsuit. “Do you think your mom got a good look at the guy when he was helping her with her box?”

“I doubt it.” Skye pursed her lips. “The lower half of his face was covered with that net thing the workers use if they have beards or mustaches, and he had another hairnet on his head. The only thing exposed was his eyes.”

“What color were they?”

“He was never close enough for me to see.” Skye bit her lip. “Mom may have noticed.”

“Did you tell anyone about seeing this guy?”

“No. I forgot to tell you this morning, and then I wanted to talk it over with you first.”

“Good.” Wally absentmindedly started to pat her hand, but snatched his away as if he had been burned.

Skye lifted her chin. “I thought you didn’t believe the whole haunted-house thing.”

“I don’t.” The tips of his ears turned red. “I just didn’t want to distract you.” He cleared his throat and added, “We’d better make sure May doesn’t tell anyone either. If it was the killer, we don’t want him to think she can identify him. It was a him, right?”

“I think so, but Mom probably got a better impression than I did.” Skye wrinkled her brow. “I guess the reason I thought it was a male was the net thingy on his face. But I couldn’t see if he really had a beard or mustache, so maybe that was just used as a sort of mask.”

“I’ll talk to May first thing tomorrow.” Wally made a note. “Your dad picked her up at the hospital just as I was leaving, and she said they were going to stop for supper at the new Culver’s in Laurel, then head straight home, so she shouldn’t tell anyone between now and then.”

“Are you kidding?” Skye snickered. “May is gossip central. She’ll probably hit the phone as soon as she gets home. No way would a Culver’s butter burger and a custard keep her from broadcasting on the Scumble River ten-o’clock news. You’d better call her right now.”

Wally’s hand went to the clip on his belt where his cell phone should have been, and he cursed when he realized it was not there, then got up and grabbed the kitchen phone.

Skye tuned out his conversation as she set out plates, napkins, and silverware.

As soon as he hung up he said, “May hasn’t told anyone and promises she won’t. She didn’t see the color of his eyes, and isn’t sure if her helper was a he or a she.”

Skye blew out a frustrated breath, then took the pizza from the oven and put it on the table.

After they practically inhaled the first pieces, she asked, “Did you ever get Uncle Dante to tell you who stabbed him? And why he was at the warehouse, anyway?”

“Dante said he was there as a favor to Grandma Sal to help make sure everything went smoothly and that no one played any more pranks.”

Skye made a disbelieving noise.

“
Anyway
, he was supposedly inspecting the cooking areas, heard a noise in the back of the warehouse, went to check on it, and saw feet sticking out of the chocolate fountain. When he bent down to look more closely, someone threw a tablecloth over his head, spun him around, and stabbed him in the stomach.” Wally took a swallow of Diet Coke before continuing. “By the time he got clear of the tablecloth his assailant had run away, and when he saw the blood he started to feel woozy, so he ran out of the building looking for assistance.”

“Shoot.” Skye licked her fingers. “So, Dante was no help at all.”

“Right. His attacker could be anyone. Dante’s not a big man, so most women could handle him in that situation.” Wally helped himself to another slice. “The county crime techs found the tablecloth when they drained the fountain,
but say they doubt there’s any trace evidence on it after being submerged in chocolate.”

“Did they find any other evidence?”

“Nothing yet. The ME has the body, and we should get word tomorrow on cause of death, but he did confirm she’d suffered a blow to the head.”

Skye wiped her mouth with a paper napkin. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Once I knew that it would be a while before Dante was in any shape to talk, I went over to Cherry’s house to break the news to her husband. But contrary to my instructions, someone leaked Cherry’s identity to the press. Reporters had descended and told him about her death. At which point Alexander became hysterical, his doctor was called, and he was given a sedative. So he’s on the top of my list to interview tomorrow morning.”

“You’ll probably want to chat with Larissa, the nanny, too,” Skye suggested. “She and Mr. Alexander are having an affair. I overheard them arguing about it at the dinner last night. She wanted him to leave his wife for her.”

“Right.” Wally made a note. “I also need with talk to the other contestants again, and anyone else having to do with the contest who we didn’t get to today.”

“Do you want me to do anything?” Skye’s face lit up. “Maybe I should drop out of the challenge to help you.”

“No, I think you’ll be more valuable hanging around and hearing what everyone has to say.” Wally took her hand and kissed her wrist. “Besides, I don’t want your mom any madder at me than she already is.”

“Chicken.” Skye picked up a slice of pepperoni and popped it into his mouth. “Will we have a lot of problems with the media? I remember when that model was killed at Thanksgiving. They were so obnoxious they even stole people’s garbage.”

“Grandma Sal’s PR people are handling it. They’re putting out a statement saying that Cherry Alexander was discovered dead this morning, but so far there is no cause of death. We’re holding back the whole chocolate-fountain part.”

“But Cherry was a best-selling author. Won’t the media be looking for a better story?”

Wally devoured the last piece of pizza, which Skye had slipped onto his plate, figuring he probably hadn’t had any lunch. After he finished he said, “An author isn’t really a celebrity. Unless they’re Stephen King or Danielle Steel or someone like that, most people don’t even recognize them. You read a lot. Did you recognize Cherry?”

“No. But from the title she mentioned while we were waiting for the opening ceremony, she writes tell-all books about celebrities, which I don’t read.”

Wally shrugged. “Well, if the media is more interested than I’m guessing, Dante said the mayor’s office would take care of any spillover Grandma Sal’s people can’t handle.”

“That’s a relief. The press was a darn nuisance on our last case.” Skye thought about the Thanksgiving murder for a moment, then asked, “Any news on Ashley’s disappearance?”

He shook his head. “The county and state police are looking for her, and all the area police departments have her picture. But no one’s seen a thing.”

“Well, I had an idea this afternoon, but it didn’t pan out.” Skye looked at him from under her lashes. He seemed only mildly interested, so she quickly gave him the rehearsed and sanitized story, ending with, “But she wasn’t there, so I nailed the shutter back.”

“Too bad.” Wally wiped his fingers, crumpled up his napkin, and threw it on top of his empty plate. “But what was causing the noise if it wasn’t her?”