Murder of a Royal Pain (32 page)

Wally Boyd, Scumble River Police Chief and secret heir to a Texas oil fortune, had asked Skye to marry him a couple of months ago. Although she hadn’t said yes, he’d insisted that she hold on to the ring until she decided. It wasn’t that she didn’t love him; it was more that she didn’t trust her judgment where men were concerned. Her history included a series of bad choices, making her leery of commitment.

Skye knew she had to decide about marrying Wally soon, but not today. Today was all about Skye’s cousin Bailey Erickson. Skye was in the peace corps when Bailey left their hometown of Scumble River ten years ago to attend college in California, and she had later decided to stay there. Now Bailey was finally back, and Skye didn’t want to be late for her party.

After checking her lipstick in the rearview mirror, Skye picked up the strawberry pretzel salad she’d made and got out of the Chevy. The Denisons didn’t have get-togethers as often as her mother’s extended Italian clan, the Leofantis, so Skye looked forward to catching up with her dad’s side of the family.

As she put her hand on the knob of the kitchen’s screen door, the excited chatter echoing through the aluminum mesh brought her up short. For a nanosecond she wasn’t sure she was at the right house. The Denisons came from stoic Swedish farm stock. They never got worked up. Heck, they seldom raised their voices, and certainly they didn’t squeal like a gaggle of schoolgirls.

What in the world could cause her unflappable relatives to make sounds like a whooping crane on crack? There was only one way to find out.

Skye pushed open the door and walked into pandemonium. Her great-aunt Dora was crying.
Yikes!
Had someone died? No. The focus of the uproar was a silver-blond beauty in the center of a flock of women who were all fluttering around her like birds at a feeder, talking a mile a minute, and patting her as if she were a prize parrot.

Although it had been nearly seventeen years since Skye had seen her cousin and she wouldn’t even have recognized her in a crowd, she figured the blonde must be Bailey.

No doubt the men were in the living room, probably watching a football game or whatever sporting event was on TV in late November, but Skye was surprised that there was no food on the table, and no one at the stove cooking. One thing the Denison and Leofanti females had in common was their prowess in the kitchen.

Skye spotted her mother on the fringe of the group, and joined her. Come August, May would be turning sixty, but she looked at least fifteen years younger. With a petite build and short salt-and-pepper hair, she had the liveliness of the high school cheerleader she’d once been.

Before Skye could speak, her mother grabbed her arm. “Isn’t it thrilling?”

“What?” Skye set the salad bowl she’d been carrying on the kitchen counter before May accidentally knocked it out of her hands.

“Bailey’s getting married right here in Scumble River on June twenty-fifth!” May trilled. “And she wants you to be her maid of honor.”

“Why me?” The question slipped out before Skye could stop it.

“
Shh!
Do you want Bailey to hear you?” May dragged Skye through the dining room into the nearest bedroom and whispered, “She’ll think you aren’t tickled pink that she asked you.”

“Well, technically, she hasn’t asked me.” Skye stalled for time, knowing that her mother would not be happy with Skye’s decision to refuse her cousin’s request.

But sometime after Skye had hit thirty, being in weddings had lost its appeal. She’d stood up for several of her sorority sisters right after college, a couple of friends while she’d been in the peace corps, and her graduate school roommate the year before she’d moved back home. Being a bridesmaid was a lot of work, not to mention a huge expense, and seven hideous dresses she could never wear again were her limit.

May narrowed her emerald eyes and stared into her daughter’s matching ones. “But once she asks you, you are going to say yes, right?”

“My question stands. Why would Bailey want me to be her maid of honor?” Skye held firm. “She was only twelve when I left for college, by the time I moved back to Scumble River she’d left, and we haven’t seen each other in all those years.”

“Blood is blood no matter how long it is between visits,” May countered. “She idolized you. She followed you around at family gatherings and begged her mother to hire you as her babysitter.”

Skye refused to be swayed. “But we haven’t kept in touch. Not to mention, I’m not even entirely sure how we’re related.”

“Your grandma Denison, and Bailey’s grandmother Dora, are sisters. That makes your father, and Bailey’s mother Rose, first cousins,” May explained to Skye. “And since both Rose and Bailey are only children, close or not, you are Bailey’s only female relative young enough to be in her wedding.”

“How about Bailey’s father’s people?” Skye knew Rose was a widow, but couldn’t remember the details.

“He wasn’t from around here, and Rose lost touch with them after he died.”

“Oh.” Skye paused, then shook her head. “Anyway, I just don’t have the money.”

“That’s the best part. Bailey’s fiancé is filthy rich—it’s a shame he couldn’t come with her so the family could meet him—and he’s paying for everything. They’ve even hired a wedding planner from California who’s going to be in Scumble River for the entire month before the wedding.”

“Impressive.” Skye understood her mother’s awe. May had never had a lot of money, so being able to spend it on frivolous nonessentials seemed like a fairy tale to her. “But I’m sorry. The answer’s still no.”

“I wish you’d reconsider, Skye,” an elderly, quavering voice said from the bed.

Skye whirled in that direction. She and May had been so intent in their conversation, she hadn’t realized anyone else was in the room.

Cora Denison, Skye’s grandmother, swung her legs over the side of the mattress and struggled to get up. At eighty-five, she had buried a husband, two stillborn babies, and a grandson. Up until Halloween, she’d made a batch of her famous Parker House rolls nearly every Sunday, but she hadn’t been feeling well for the past few weeks.

Skye rushed to her side and helped Cora to her feet, then handed her the cane that had been leaning against the wall. Skye felt her heart sink. Having lost both her grandfathers and her grandma Leofanti, she wasn’t ready for her last remaining grandparent to die, but it was clear that Cora was failing.

Once she was steady, Cora said, “I’d really like you to be in Bailey’s wedding.”

Skye opened her mouth to explain why she couldn’t, but a movement near the door drew her attention. Standing on the threshold was Skye’s father, Jed, his faded brown eyes pleading with Skye to agree with her grandmother’s request.

What could she do? Skye knew a lot of people thought she needed to grow a spine where her family was concerned, but there was no way she could disappoint her grandmother or her father, neither of whom often asked her for anything.

Smiling, she said, “If
you
want me to, Grandma, I’d be happy to be Bailey’s maid of honor.”

As she gave Cora a hug, Skye mentally shrugged. How bad could it be? All she’d have to do was buy a few gifts, throw a bridal shower, and attend the rehearsal dinner, the ceremony, and the reception. The wedding planner would do the rest.

Suddenly a shiver ran down Skye’s spine. All the murders that had taken place in Scumble River during the past few years flashed through her mind. Most of them seemed to occur when some big event in town brought in a lot of outsiders. She sure hoped this wedding didn’t prove to be equally deadly.