Murder of a Chocolate-Covered Cherry (10 page)

“Babe, I promise, I’ll totally tell her as soon as this contest is over. She’d grease us both if she barneyed because we messed with her mind.” A low, smoky male voice drifted over the racks as Skye stepped into the center of the coatroom, an area in the back of the warehouse that had been partitioned off with two folding walls, and furnished with a dozen or so metal frames with poles suspended horizontally between them.

Skye stood in the middle of the rows. She hadn’t realized anyone else was in the room until she heard the voice. Should she cough to indicate her presence, or should she just quietly leave? The tricky part would be moving silently among all the dangling hangers.

Before she could decide, a distraught female voice said, “You always have some excuse. I can’t go on like this. Either you tell her about us by this Sunday, or I’ll tell her.”

“No!” the man shouted, then took on a cajoling tone. “Sorry, babe, I didn’t want to tell you this, but I can’t bail
on her. We have an ironclad prenup. She’d get everything, including custody of the baby.”

“But what about us?”

Skye cringed, hating to eavesdrop on these future guests of
The Jerry Springer Show
. She took a step backward and froze when she bumped into a rack, causing a tinny clunk.

“Did you hear that?” he demanded.

“Hear what?” the woman asked between sobs.

There was a long moment of silence while Skye fought to remain quiet.

“Guess it was nothing,” the man answered, then said, “I’d better get back to the table. We’ll dial in on all this tomorrow while the queen’s busy cooking. Her Highness will be wondering what’s taking me so long. I swear, she even times me when I take a leak.”

A soft giggle hiccuped through the tears. “You’re so funny, Kyle.”

Skye raised an eyebrow. So, half of the amorous couple was Cherry Alexander’s husband, Kyle. She wondered who his lover was.

“And you’d better get back before Juanita complains to Cherry about having to do your job and hers too.”

“I didn’t leave the baby with Juanita.”

Ah, the nanny. How clichéd. Skye shook her head. Did every rich father sleep with his child’s nanny?

“What?” Suddenly the male voice was no longer cajoling. “Who’s watching him?”

“He’s in the car.”

“By himself?”

“Yes.” The girl’s voice quavered. “He’s in his car seat asleep and the doors are locked.”

“You skank!” All traces of Kyle’s prior charm had drained away, and his tone was now utterly harsh. “Never, ever leave my son alone again.”

“But… but, Kyle. What about us?”

“Just get out of here, Larissa. We’ll talk later.”

It took Skye a moment to realize that the couple would have to come her way to get out of the coat area, and another second to figure out what do. Hoping that their own
movement would be blamed for the noise, Skye wedged herself between two racks, pulling the coats in front of her as camouflage. Thank goodness she was wearing black.

Larissa came first. She was crying too hysterically to notice if an armed Roman gladiator popped up in front of her. Kyle was close on the girl’s heels, looking straight ahead, nearly pushing the distraught nanny out of his way. Luckily for Skye he was too angry to care who might be around.

Once the couple left, Skye found a hanger, hung up her coat, and smoothed her hair and dress. As she made her way into the large area that had been set with circular tables, she shook her head. She would never have guessed that surferdude Kyle would turn into Romeo Kyle, then morph into protective-father Kyle. That scene had sure been an eyeopener.

The tables were packed, and servers were scurrying around delivering bowls of steaming soup, bringing baskets of fragrant bread, and filling glasses with wine. Skye’s stomach growled. She hadn’t had anything to eat since a BLT six hours ago.

She scanned the chairs, looking for her mother and dad, but couldn’t spot them. Finally, one of the servers asked, “Can I help you find your table, ma’am?”

“Are there assigned seats?” Skye was a little surprised, wondering how Grandma Sal’s staff had decided who sat with whom.

“Yes, ma’am. Are you a contestant, media, judge, or Grandma Sal’s staff?”

“Contestant.”

“The contestants are seated two to a table with their guests and their runners and their runners’ guests.” The young man pointed to a group of twelve tables in the front of the room. “Starting from the right side, the places are arranged alphabetically.”

“Thank you.” Skye nodded at the server and walked toward the area he indicated.

She found her place at the third table. Her mother and father sat with the middle school Home Ec teacher, whom Skye was acquainted with, and a man Skye assumed was
the teacher’s husband. On the other side of her parents were two empty seats, and next to the vacant chairs were Bunny and her son, Simon.

Skye paused only a second before turning to leave, but it was a second too long. May saw her before she moved.

As Skye searched her mind for options, she saw her mom stand up, wave her arms, and yell, “Over here!”

What in the world had Vince done to their mother’s hair? All the natural curl had been gelled out, and it was plastered to her scalp like a rubber Halloween wig. May looked as if a vat of cooking oil had been poured over her head and left to congeal.

“Why are you so late?” May demanded as Skye slipped into her chair. “You certainly don’t look as if you spent the extra time primping.”

“Thank you, Mom. You look nice, too.” Skye fought to keep the sarcasm out of her voice and to prevent her gaze from drifting to her mother’s new ‘do. “I’m not late. I just had a rescheduled arrival time.”

“You sound like those teenagers you spend too much time with.” May’s tone was disapproving.

“Hi, everyone.” Skye ignored her mother. “Sorry I wasn’t here on time.”

The others said hello and murmured that her tardiness wasn’t a problem.

“I was worried something had happened.” May reached up and tucked a stray curl behind her daughter’s ear. “What kept you?”

Skye had taken the empty chair nearest her mother, as her other choice was the vacant seat next to Simon. Now she wondered if she had really chosen the lesser of two evils. “A situation with the school newspaper came up, and it took me a little longer to deal with it than I estimated.”

“What situation?” May narrowed her eyes.

“Oh, nothing I couldn’t refer to someone else.”

The others had remained silent through the exchange, but as May paused in her interrogation and Skye sipped a spoonful of soup, Bunny piped up, “Where’s your date, Skye?”

Skye closed her eyes and counted to ten. “He had an emergency and had to cancel.” Sitting at a table with both Bunny and May was almost like having two mothers to irritate her. It was odd how different the women were, but they could certainly both drive her crazy. Of course, considering how this day was going, all it would take was a short putt.

May dabbed her lips with her napkin. “He seems to have a lot of emergencies popping up lately.”

“He is the chief of police.” Skye counted to twenty. At this rate she’d be up to hundred before the entrée was served. “He’s bound to be occasionally called away.”

As usual, Skye’s father, Jed, was silent while the women talked, and the other two tablemates appeared determined to appear as if they hadn’t heard a word of the discussion.

Skye saw Simon open his mouth, but then close it without speaking.

They all finished their soup, and the server replaced their bowls with salads. May lowered her voice and asked in a hopeful tone, “Are you and Wally breaking up?”

“Not that I know of. Have you heard something?” Skye matched her mother’s low volume. “Or is this just wishful thinking on your part?”

“You rush in here an hour late, disheveled and dateless. It’s not much of a stretch.”

“Everything’s fine between us,” Skye assured her mother, but wondered herself what was going on. Determined to change the subject, she raised her voice and asked the middle school Home EC teacher, “Barb, what made you decide to volunteer to be a runner?”

“When I didn’t final in the contest, I thought maybe seeing the whole process up close and personal would give me a hint about what to enter next year.” The stylish brunette leaned forward. “How about you, Bunny? Are you looking for ideas for next year’s contest, too?”

“No. I’m not very good in the kitchen.” The redhead jerked up her strapless aqua minidress, fluffed her curls, and fluttered her lashes at the teacher’s husband. She giggled.
“I’m better at keeping the bedroom sizzling. After all, I’m still a hot babe. But now it comes in flashes.”

Simon’s handsome face reddened, and Skye gave him a sympathetic look that clearly said,
Mothers!

His hazel eyes softened and he smiled, nodding his head in agreement.

After the entrées were served, and everyone turned to their food, Simon leaned close to Skye and said quietly, “Frannie mentioned that some disgruntled cheerleader’s parents are suing the school newspaper. Does that have anything to do with why you were late?”

Skye hadn’t intended to let anyone know what had happened, especially before she could talk to Wally, but she found herself nodding.

“Anything I can do to help?” His soothing tenor made Skye relax for the first time since Justin and Frannie had told her about Ashley’s disappearance.

“I don’t think so, but thanks for offering.”

Once they finished their entrées and the tables were cleared, the room was darkened and a masculine voice boomed over the loudspeakers, “We have a special treat for you tonight. Instead of a traditional dessert, our factory has constructed the largest chocolate fountain in the country.” A spotlight aimed at the center front of the room flared to life, illuminating a tublike vessel about the circumference of a child’s wading pool and nearly as tall as a refrigerator. From its four spouts chocolate flowed in a continual stream.

After a second of silent appreciation, applause and excited chatter broke out among the audience. Flashbulbs went off as newspaper photographers took pictures. Even TV cameramen jockeyed for good shots.

Once the noise and activity decreased, the voice said, “Tables one through four are invited to come up and get your dessert now.”

May was the first one out of her seat. From the table near the fountain she piled her plate with slices of banana, small squares of angel food cake, and a small mountain of strawberries.

Simon was behind Skye, and as he made his selections
he murmured to her, “I can think of something I’d rather drizzle chocolate over than this stuff.”

Her face flooded with warmth, but she pretended not to have heard him. They had broken up at the end of last summer because she thought he had cheated on her. At the time he had refused to explain himself, and Skye had not learned until Thanksgiving that the woman she had discovered him with was his half sister, not a girlfriend. By then Skye had become involved with Wally, and Simon’s explanation involving family secrets was too late.

Since finding out Simon’s big secret, she had seen him here and there, but hadn’t spent any time with him. Skye considered their relationship over, and she wasn’t ready to be just friends. Was Simon saying he felt otherwise? Was he just flattering her or was he intimating that he wanted her back?

Before she could figure out his intentions or decide what to do about them—she really was very happy with Wally— a voice came over the PA system.

Clearly the person speaking didn’t mean for the whole place to hear him when he said, “What do you mean, you might not sell Fine Foods? You can’t pull out of a deal like this. They’ll sue us, you crazy old woman.”

Grandma Sal’s voice was easily recognizable. “I haven’t signed anything, and behavior like this won’t get me to. You’d better watch your manners and remember who owns the majority of Fine Foods.”

“I’ve slaved my whole life for this company. You’d better not try to screw me out of my share now.”

“It’s not your name and face on the products; it’s mine, and I have to do what I think is right for both the business and its employees.”

“And I have to do what I think is necessary for me. I’m warning you that if you get in my way on this deal, I’ll be forced to get rid of you.”

N
o human being should be forced to get out of bed at five in the morning. Skye stuck an arm out from under the covers and thumped her squealing alarm. She usually woke to the sound of music, or at least a deejay’s serene baritone, but she had purposely changed the setting to buzzer, knowing that anything less wouldn’t rouse her at this ungodly hour.

May was picking her up at ten to six. She’d insisted they needed the full three hours allotted for practice, and while Skye didn’t disagree, she knew her mom hadn’t taken into consideration the fact that no amount of preparation would make Skye’s cooking edible.

Skye had tried to talk May into meeting her at the factory, intending to arrive later in the morning, but May knew her too well and had vetoed that suggestion. At the time it had seemed too much trouble to argue, but now that she actually had to get up at the crack of dawn, Skye wished she had insisted on driving herself.