Murder of a Chocolate-Covered Cherry (5 page)

“My entry was inspired by my daughter’s upcoming wedding.”

Despite Skye’s pleas, the Star had run several stories about her crime-solving activities, so she was well-known among the paper’s staff, and for some reason she couldn’t fathom, they were fascinated with her personal life.

Kathryn’s body language resembled that of a golden re-triever that had just discovered a flock of ducks hiding among the cattails. “Who’s the groom? Has a date been set?”

Skye didn’t have time to think or plan what to say, but
she knew she had to answer before her mother did. She leapt forward and, trying to keep the edge out of her voice, said, “Kathryn, you know Mom meant my eventual, some-time-in-the-far-far-future wedding.” Skye held up her left hand, naked of any ring. “When I get married you’ll see a rock the size of a Christmas-tree ornament on my finger.” The audience laughed, and she wrapped it up with, “Who knows how many cooking contests Mom’ll win before then?”

Skye shot a sideways look of warning to May, who had her mouth open but slowly closed it without speaking.

The rest of the questions were harmless, and Skye zoned out, concentrating on her increasing need for the ladies’ room. Finally the contestants were dismissed. Several raced for the bathroom. Skye had the advantage of knowing the lay of the land and headed for the faculty restroom, located deep within the bowels of the building, which she was sure would be empty.

Whipping inside, she locked the door and was unzipping her pants when she heard loud voices coming from the other side of the wall. Hmm, that would be the teachers’ lounge. Skye leaned closer to the wall, curious as to who had ignored the sign on the closed door that said,
DO NOT ENTER. TEACHERS ONLY. THIS MEANS YOU.

“Listen up, sweet cheeks. You didn’t give me any data on her or her family other than what I already had. You guaranteed me that your information would be up close and personal. I have too much riding on this for your shoddy work to ruin things for me. You have until tomorrow morning to get me the dirt on her and her relatives.” The woman’s tone was angry.

“I sent you what Grandma Sal sent me. Can I help it if the old broad didn’t give me what I asked for? She always does in-depth profiles of the contestants to make sure they’re squeaky-clean.” This second voice was deeper, but Skye couldn’t tell if it belonged to a man or a woman. “I’ll reach out to my sources tonight and have the lowdown tomorrow at breakfast.”

“You’d better. I doubt you want anyone to know what you’re up to.”

“Hey, I already got you into the finals. We both have secrets we don’t want exposed.”

“And I paid you good money for that.”

Skye heard the door slam and hurried to finish up. She raced out of the restroom, but it was too late; no one was around. As she went back to wash her hands, she wondered who had bought their way into the finals, and which contestant they were so interested in and why.

S
kye and May were caught in the parade of cars driving the three miles between the high school and the Feed Bag. May’s white Oldsmobile sparkled as the sun beat down on its hood. It looked as if it had just rolled off the assembly line, but in reality it was over ten years old. That it accrued less than six thousand miles a year and was rarely driven past the county line probably had something to do with the vehicle’s pristine condition.

The Olds was sandwiched between Vince’s Jeep and Charlie’s Cadillac Seville. Looking into the side mirror, Skye could see her godfather scowling and shaking his fist. Scumble River did not usually have gridlock, and Charlie clearly wasn’t enjoying the rare experience.

In contrast, Vince was bopping to whatever music was playing on the radio; or, knowing her brother, Skye wouldn’t be surprised to learn that the beat was only in his head. Vince had been the drummer in local bands since he was fourteen.

As far as Skye could tell, May’s attitude was somewhere in the middle—still excited to be a part of the contest, but worried she might miss something while she was stuck in traffic.

“Mom, I have a question for you.” Skye figured that at the
rate they were going it would take them at least fifteen minutes to get to the restaurant, which meant this was a good time to ask her mother about something that had been bothering Skye for the past few months. She was especially worried after her mom’s performance at the press conference.

“So, ask it already.”

“Why are you suddenly so intent on marrying me off?”

May hadn’t been this determined to get Skye married in a long time. Had Skye’s biological clock started ticking so loudly that even her mother could hear it?

May twisted the knob on the radio until she found the weather. “I don’t know what you mean by ‘suddenly.’ I’ve always wanted to see you married.”

“Well, you’ve wanted me to settle down with some nice guy and produce two-point-five grandchildren since I turned twenty-one, but the last few months you’ve ratcheted your efforts up about a hundred percent.”

“Things have changed.”

Skye turned off the radio and focused on her mom’s face. “What has changed?”

“You and Wally.” May’s expression soured. Although she wanted Skye married, she wasn’t keen on her marrying Wally, who was several years older, divorced, and not Catholic.

“What about Wally and me?” Skye asked.

“I’m worried that by the time you get Wally out of your system, Simon will have found someone else. I saw that nurse from your school, the one who dated Vince for a while, talking with Simon at church. And that new woman, the one who moved to town last summer with that wild daughter, was flirting with him at the gas station the other day.”

“Mom, I don’t want him back.” Skye had dated Simon Reid, the funeral home director and county coroner, on and off for the past three or so years. Her mother’s news that other women were flirting with him caused a twinge of jealousy, but Skye pushed it away. “I’m happy with Wally. Not that I necessarily want to marry him.” She didn’t want May to start planning that wedding either.

“You’re going to be thirty-five this December!” May exploded. “It’s time you settled down. Do you want to go to your kids’ graduation in a wheelchair?”

“Mother!” Skye blew out an angry puff of air and crossed her arms. “A lot of women nowadays have kids well into their forties.”

May muttered something about old eggs not producing a good omelet, then stared out the windshield. After several minutes of icy silence, she spoke as if nothing had happened. “Did any of the other finalists look sort of familiar to you?”

Deciding to let the Simon/Wally marriage issue go, at least until the contest was over, Skye teased, “Besides you, Vince, and Charlie?”

“Yes, smarty-pants, besides us.”

Skye pictured the other twenty contestants, then shook her head. “No, I can’t say anyone stuck out. I take it one did to you?”

“Sort of, but I couldn’t place her. She’s the one with short black hair that looks like a wig, and glasses with rhinestone frames. Her name is Imogene Ingersoll. I was only able to speak to her briefly—she was on the way to the bathroom— and she said we hadn’t met. I didn’t get a chance to talk to her again.”

“Well, we’ll all be together for the next couple of days, so maybe it will come to you, or she’ll remember something.”

“Maybe.” May frowned. “But it’s like a sore tooth. I keep poking at it.”

“I hate when that happens.”

May sighed, then asked, “What did you think of the other contestants?”

“It’s hard to tell. I never got to speak to most of them.”

“Yeah, we should have had a plan.” May stomped on the brakes as the only stoplight in town changed from green to yellow. “We could have divided them up into four groups and gotten the scoop on each of them.”

“Why would we want to do that, Mom?” Skye thought about the mysterious conversation she had overheard coming from the teachers’ lounge. That person had wanted information
on a contestant too; maybe May could explain why that data was so vital.

“It gives you a psychological advantage.” May flipped down the visor and checked her hair.

“How does that help in a cooking contest?” Skye turned slightly so she could study her mother.

May eased off the brake and made a left. “Because if you can psych someone out, they might get so rattled they forget to add an ingredient, or they overcook their dish, or do something else that ruins their recipe.”

“But that’s not fair.” May’s primping prompted Skye to smooth her own wayward curls and apply a fresh coat of apricot gloss to her lips.

“All’s fair in cooking and baking.”

Her mother’s attitude of “anything goes” made Skye wonder whether she should mention to someone in charge that one of the finalists had bought her way into the contest. After a few minutes’ consideration, she realized that she had no idea who either of the two people she overheard was, and she could end up reporting the incident to the very person who was involved. She had been trying to learn that every problem was not hers to solve. This seemed a good place to start.

May eased over the bump leading into the restaurant’s lot, then abruptly put on the brakes. “Shoot. The lot’s full.”

“Where are we going to park?” Skye asked. Her gaze swept the double rows on both sides of the building. All four were solidly packed.

May frowned. “We might have to park at Vince’s salon and walk back.”

Great
. Skye looked down at her new Ann Taylor zebra-striped pumps. She had splurged during a recent shopping trip in Chicago. Loretta had talked her into getting them, even though Skye knew there were limited places she could wear them without crippling herself. Now their pointy toes mocked her. Talk about shoes that
weren’t
made for walking. She’d do better taking them off and carrying them than trying to hike a mile in the three-inch heels.

Skye was about to suggest her mother double-park—after
all, everyone at the restaurant would be leaving at the same time—when she spotted a police car backed into a space right next to the restaurant’s door. As she watched, Wally unfolded himself from the driver’s side and approached the Olds. He had muscles in all the right places, and she enjoyed seeing him move.

She rolled down the window. “Hi, handsome. What are you doing here?”

He leaned in for a quick kiss, then answered, “I figured you might have some trouble finding a place to park, so I saved you a space.” He leaned further into the car. “Hi, May. I’ll pull out so you can pull in.”

May nodded, but otherwise didn’t respond.

Wally’s smile cooled at May’s cold shoulder, but it warmed back up when he turned to Skye and said, “Come ride with me. I need to talk to you for a minute before you go in.”

“You don’t have time.” May’s hand clamped down on Skye’s wrist as she opened the car door. “We’re on a tight schedule. You’ll make everyone late.”

“It’ll be fine, Mom.” Skye freed herself and stepped out of the car. She definitely had to make it clear to her mother that she needed to be nicer to Wally. After the contest they’d have a little daughter-to-mother talk, and May had better straighten up. “Go inside and save me a seat.”

For a moment Skye was afraid that May would run them over when they crossed in front of the Olds, but she only revved the engine.

Wally helped Skye into the passenger side of the squad car, then slid into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and pulled out. He was silent as he maneuvered the cruiser into the lot’s lane of traffic and around the corner. He parked next to the Dumpsters in a space that said,
RESERVED FOR DELIVERIES.

Skye bit her bottom lip. What was up? She studied Wally. He was a handsome man who filled out his crisply starched police uniform in exactly the right way. His warm brown eyes melted her heart, and his shiny black hair edged in silver made her itch to run her fingers through the waves. He
also had a gorgeous year-round tan. But his most attractive feature was his kind and generous nature.

Now his expression was serious and unhappy. He half turned, took her hand, and opened his mouth, then seemed to change his mind and instead said, “Did I tell you how beautiful you look?”

Skye shook her head. “How could you? This is the first time you’ve seen me today.”

“Mmm.” He brought her hand up to his lips and nibbled on her fingers. “You taste good, too.”

“That’s because I haven’t started cooking yet,” Skye teased.

Wally continued to nibble. “When’s your next time off from school?”

“Well…” Skye wasn’t prepared for the question, and she stammered, “If you mean more than one day, that would be the end of school, which is June eleventh. Why?”

“We should plan a trip together.” Wally’s lips were now on the inside of her elbow.

“That’d be fun.” Was this what he had needed to talk to her about? Skye glanced at the dashboard clock. She had to get inside pretty soon, or May would send the cavalry to find her—and her orders
wouldn’t
be to hold their fire until they saw the whites of Wally’s eyes. Skye prodded. “So, you had something important to discuss?”