Murder of a Chocolate-Covered Cherry (23 page)

The cooking challenge’s change in schedule had probably thrown everyone off, especially with school being closed the next day. Skye had been shocked to get that message. Dante must have pulled a lot of strings and made a lot of promises to get the superintendent to cancel classes so that the contest could use the auditorium/gymnasium for the award ceremony.

Before the country’s heightened security, Fine Foods could have used the auditorium and only gym classes would have had to be canceled, but now the school district policy didn’t allow that many strangers in the building while students were present.

Maybe the fact that they hadn’t taken any of the year’s snow days helped. However, snow days were really only a technicality needed because of the way the teacher contracts were written. They still had to be made up, so now they’d have to go an extra day into the summer, a detail everyone conveniently forgot as they were celebrating their impromptu holiday.

When Skye pushed open the glass door of the PD, she immediately noticed the busy hum. She waved to the dispatcher behind the bulletproof glass window that enclosed the counter on her right, and the woman buzzed her through the door leading to the rest of the station. Cubicles that were normally empty were filled with officers who were on either the phone, the computer, or both.

One young man Skye didn’t recognize was performing percussive maintenance on his PC. He didn’t seem to realize that smacking the crap out of an electronic device rarely improved its working condition. But then, artificial intelligence had never been a match for natural stupidity.

Skye shook her head and moved on. From the snatches of conversation she heard, half the officers were looking for Ashley and half for the murderer. Had something happened to stir up the search for the missing girl?

She was tempted to stop and ask, but the men looked too busy. Not to mention she had only a short time to turn up at the supper before May sent the search-and-rescue dogs after her.

Dashing to the back of the building, she quickly climbed the steps. Wally’s office and a couple of small storage areas were the only rooms in the truncated upstairs space. There was no egress between the PD and the portion of the second floor that was located over the city hall, which contained the three-room Scumble River library.

Skye’s heart skipped a beat when she saw Wally leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed. He exuded an attraction that enticed her like a golden box of Godiva chocolates. As she got closer she saw that his features were etched with exhaustion and defeat, and a soft gasp of pained empathy escaped her.

He immediately straightened, his eyelids flying open. At first he scowled, but his expression brightened when he saw Skye. In one swift movement he rose to his feet and met her halfway across the office in a fierce embrace.

She buried her face against his throat, enjoying a moment of pure pleasure.

His breath hot against her ear, he whispered, “How did you know I needed to hold you?”

“Bingo told me.” She wound her arms inside his jacket and around his back.

His chuckle shed years from his face. “In that case he must be the one hanging up the phone every time I try to call you.”

“What?” Skye was distracted by the touch of his thumb stroking her jaw.

“I tried two or three times today and your machine hung up on me every time.”

“Guess I need a new answering machine.” She struggled to focus, but the tingle where his thigh brushed her hip was hard to ignore. Breathlessly she continued, “And while I’m at it, I might as well get a cell phone, too.”

“It’s about time,” he growled as he nipped at the sensitive cord running from her ear down her neck.

“Did you find out what was wrong with your …” Skye tried to concentrate. There was a reason she had stopped by, and something else she had to do tonight, but darned if she could remember. “… cell?”

“No. Bingo must have thrown it down the stairs last time I was over.” His lips hovered above hers as he spoke.

Suddenly impatient, she pressed her open mouth to his. He needed no further invitation, and his kiss devoured her.

A few seconds, or minutes, or hours later—she had no idea how much time had passed—an apologetic cough from the doorway made her lift her head.

Anthony, one of the part-time patrol officers, stood on the threshold, his face beet red. “Uh, I’m really sorry, Chief, but your phone must be off the hook, and I finally got Mr. Alexander on the line. I know you wanted to talk to him.”

After a quick squeeze and kiss on the nose, Wally released Skye. “No problem. What line?”

“Four. He sounded drunk or high or something,” Anthony added over his shoulder as he retreated down the hall.

“I’ll put it on speakerphone so you can tell me what you think,” Wally said to Skye as he turned to his desk. “This jerk has been avoiding me all day.”

Skye sat down and took a pad of paper and a pen from her purse.

Wally pressed the button and said, “Mr. Alexander, thank you for calling. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks, dude. It’s so bogus. She was so young. Who’d want her dead?” The voice on the speaker broke. “Are you sure it wasn’t an accident?”

Wally shot a look at Skye, making sure she heard that, then ignored the man’s question. “I’d really like to talk to you in person, Mr. Alexander.”

“Uh, actually, man, my last name’s not Alexander; it’s Hunter. Cherry used her maiden name—you know, professionally.”

“I understand.” Wally made a note. “Sorry for the confusion. So, Mr. Hunter, would it be possible for you to come into the station now and talk?”

“Sorry, no can do. My son’s asleep and I don’t have anyone to watch him.”

Skye scribbled the words
housekeeper
and
nanny
on her legal pad and held it up for Wally to read.

He nodded and said, “How about your housekeeper or the nanny?”

“I gave Juanita the day off, and we fired the nanny Friday night when we got home from the dinner.”

“I see.” Wally made another note. “Well, maybe you can come in tomorrow, Mr. Hunter, when your housekeeper is back at work.”

“Maybe. There’s just so much to do,” Kyle whined. “We’ll see.”

“Okay. Try to get some rest, Mr. Hunter.”

After Wally hung up, Skye raised an eyebrow. “Why do I think that Kyle Hunter will have company tonight rather than take a nap?”

Wally gave her wolfish grin. “Hey, I’ve been trying to have a face-to-face with that guy since Saturday morning. At least now I know he’s home and will be staying there for a while.”

“Interesting that the nanny was fired right before Cherry’s murder.”

“If he’s telling the truth.”

“Good point.” Skye got up from her chair. “Listen, I know you’re in a hurry to go see Hunter, and I need to get to the pork-chop supper/square dance before Mom sends out the FBI’s missing persons unit, but I wanted to share some info with you.”

“How about you come over to my house when the supper and dance are over?” Wally put his hand on the small of her back and walked her out of his office.

Skye studied her watch. “That should be around ten. Is that okay?”

“Great.” He locked the door. “If something comes up, leave a message with the dispatcher, and I’ll do the same.” He frowned. “Tomorrow after the cooking contest is over, we’re both going to Joliet to buy us cell phones.”

As they descended the stairs Skye said, “Oh, remember
that argument I told you about between Hunter and the nanny? I forgot to mention that he said Cherry had an air-tight prenup so he couldn’t divorce her, but Bunny said he’s been a frequent flier in the bar at the bowling alley and is a real hound dog.”

“Thanks. I’ll keep all that in mind when I question him.”

“Also, ask him if Cherry ever hired private investigators to look into the people she wrote about. She seemed to have found out a lot of secrets about the judges and the other contestants. Oh, and ask him who was going to be the subject of her next book.”

“Got it.” Wally opened the door leading from the PD to the garage. “See you at ten.”

It was exactly seven p.m. when Skye arrived at the Brown Bag banquet hall. People stood two deep all the way from the buffet tables to the entrance. Skye spotted her parents near the front and waved. May motioned for her to join them, but Skye shook her head. In Scumble River, cutting into a food line was a crime punishable by social death. May, one of the queen bees, might be able to get away with it, but Skye, a drone, knew she could not.

Instead she walked into the hall’s attached bar and ordered a Diet Coke with a slice of lime. The place was empty except for the owner, Jess Larson, who was sitting on a stool reading a book.

As he slid the glass in front of her, he said, “I hear you all had some excitement at the cooking contest. I told Dante I didn’t have a good vibe about having it here.”

“Yeah.” Skye took a long drink and sighed. “Why doesn’t anything ever go smoothly in Scumble River?”

“What would be the fun in that?” Jess was a relative newcomer to town, having bought the Brown Bag a couple of years ago from his cousin when she retired.

“You sound like some of my ADHD kids.”

“I probably was, but we moved around a lot, so the school never had a chance to stick a label on me.”

“Hey,” Skye said sharply. “I do not stick labels on kids. I identify them so they can get the help they need.”

“Whoa. Sorry.” He held up his hand. “See, it’s that poor impulse control coming out.”

“Right.” Sarcasm dripped from the word. “So, you hear much about the murder?”

“The usual.” Jess pushed a dish of snack mix toward Skye, who helped herself to a handful. “Since the victim’s from out of town, no one seems to know much.”

“Yeah.” Skye’s voice retained its sarcastic tone. “Laurel is a whole forty-five minutes from here. Might as well be a foreign country.”

Jess chuckled. “You sure you don’t want some rum in that Diet Coke? You sound less perky than usual.”

“Perky!” Skye glared at him. “I am never perky. Perky is for cheerleaders and Miss America.”

This time Jess raised both hands in surrender. “I meant … uh … not in good spirits.”

“Well, okay.” Skye examined the bar owner. He was only an inch or so taller than she was, with black eyes and brown hair. She didn’t know his age, but guessed he was nearing thirty. He seemed friendly enough, but didn’t socialize and rarely mentioned his past. She grinned. He needed a girlfriend. Who could she fix him up with?

“I don’t like that smile,” he said, his gaze wary.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Skye waited for a beat, then asked, “Do you ever take a night off?”

“I think you’re real cute and I like talking to you, but …” Jess backed away. “One thing I’ve learned is never to mess with a cop’s girlfriend.”

“Not me, silly.” Skye giggled. “But I have some single friends.”

“No. I do not do blind dates or fix-ups.” Then, as if to distract her, he said, “Speaking of cops, the chief’s father has been in here a couple of times—though I almost didn’t recognize him this time, what with him having shaved his head and all.”

“Yeah, that was a surprise,” Skye bluffed.

“Is he moving to Scumble River or something?”

“I don’t think so.” Skye’s thoughts started to race. Or was he? Maybe that was why he was visiting. No, that was silly.
The head of a multinational company would not live in Scumble River. “Do you remember the last time he was here?”

“He left just a few minutes ago.”

Damn!
“He have anything interesting to say?”

“Nothing special.” Jess shrugged. “Mostly we talked about the stock market and baseball—I was trying to explain to him why the fans stick by the Cubs even though they continue to lose year after year. He had a hard time with that concept. Seemed to think winning is the only thing that matters.”

That was certainly consistent with the picture Wally had painted of his father. “Anything else?”

“I mentioned the murder, and he said it was a shame, because the bad publicity would hurt Grandma Sal’s business.”

Jess and Skye chatted for a few minutes more; then Skye paid for her drink and walked back to the banquet hall. The line had disappeared, and Skye stepped across the room to the buffet. She made her selections, then looked over the sea of faces, trying to find a place to sit.

She spotted an arm waving. Not surprisingly it was her mother. She waved back and made her way to the table. When she got near enough to see who else was sitting with May, a sense of déjàG vu washed over her once again. This whole weekend seemed to keep repeating itself.

Just like at Friday’s dinner, her parents had somehow managed to sit with the people Skye most wanted to avoid.

How in the world had both Simon and Kathryn Steele, the owner of the
Scumble River Star
, ended up at the same table as May and Jed? Simon was clearly escorting his mother, whom May loathed, which should have guaranteed they wouldn’t choose to sit together.

And Kathy really had no connection with Skye’s family, unless … Could Vince have asked her out? He was supposed to be dating Loretta Steiner, Skye’s sorority sister. If he was cheating on her, Skye would have to kill him, but if she never found out, she wouldn’t have to do anything. Thus it would be better to sit at another table. But she hesitated a second too long before attempting her escape.

Her mother shot her a stern look and said, “Where did
you go? We’ve been saving you a seat, but we’re almost ready for dessert.”

Skye gave in and sank into the empty chair between her brother and Uncle Charlie. No matter what she did, this conversation would not be pretty.

May pursued an answer to her question. “We saw you come in and then you disappeared. What’s going on?”

“I bought a soda at the bar while I waited for the line to go down.”

“Iced tea and coffee are free.” Skye’s father spoke between bites.

Before Skye could respond, Bunny, seated on Uncle Charlie’s opposite side, said, “But, Jed, when you were fixing up my car you said you get what you pay for. So, if something’s free, wouldn’t that mean you get nothing?”

May glared at Bunny, then turned her laser stare on her husband. She hated any reference to the time Jed had spent in the redhead’s company, still believing in her heart of hearts that the two had had an affair.