Murder of a Chocolate-Covered Cherry (13 page)

He shook his head, the expression on his face strained. “No. That was something else.”

She opened her mouth to ask what, but Wally was already sliding into the driver’s seat and closing the door.

He rolled the window down and, as he started the engine,
said, “I don’t have time to get into it right now. Are you free tonight?”

She nodded, a feeling of alarm making her chest hurt. What was going on? Was he breaking up with her?

“Okay. Unless something else happens I’ll be at your place around seven, and I’ll bring supper.” He stuck his arm out the window and took her hand, raising it to his mouth for a kiss.

The touch of his lips sent a flame into the pit of her stomach, and the warm expression in his brown eyes curled around her heart.

She sensed his reluctance to let go, but when he did he said, “Everything will be fine. I promise.”

As Skye watched the cruiser drive away, it occurred to her that Wally had said he’d come to her house. That was odd. Although they’d never voiced their concern, it seemed that every time she and Wally even touched each other anywhere in her house, something exploded or caught on fire or flooded. Since Thanksgiving they’d been spending most of their time together at his house.

Why did he suddenly want to meet at her house? She frowned. Was Wally planning to tell her something that would end their relationship for good, and so had no intention of touching her? She blinked back a tear and forced herself to think positive thoughts.

When Skye finally turned away, she realized that she needed a ride. Her mom had left with Dante, taking the keys to her car with her. And all newcomers were being turned away at the factory’s gates, which were being monitored by the police.

Shoot
. She’d have to go over to the plant, ask to use a phone, and get someone to pick her up. But who? She had no idea where Uncle Charlie or Vince was, since they were also contestants and would have been turned away at the gate a couple of hours ago. Her dad refused to answer the phone.

Skye thought for a moment. Heck, anyone she called for a ride would expect her to tell them everything that was going on, which she couldn’t do. Maybe her best bet was to
go to the gate and see if anyone she knew turned up. It would be easier to be evasive with an acquaintance than a friend.

Slinging her tote bag over her shoulder, she started toward the main road, about a quarter mile away. She kept to the pavement, not wanting to get her new running shoes dirty. About halfway there she noticed a swathe of white caught in the bushes that lined the driveway. It was probably just garbage, but something about it seemed familiar.

She stepped closer, trying to avoid the mud. Just as she reached out to touch it, it fluttered in the wind, and Skye realized she was staring at a discarded factory jumpsuit that was smeared with chocolate, and maybe blood.
Oh, shit
. This must belong to the man she and May saw running in the parking lot that morning. Darn. In all the confusion she’d forgotten to tell Wally about the guy—and he
could
be the killer!

What to do now? Better to let the techs get it, but did she dare leave it? What if it blew away? Okay, she’d wait until someone came in or out, and ask them to get a tech. This kind of situation made her wish for a cell phone.

Twenty minutes later her plan to wait didn’t seem like such a good idea. Finally an elegant black Lincoln limousine coming from the direction of the factory purred into view. Skye waved it to a stop, and leaned in as the passenger window eased down. Inside were Grandma Sal, Jared, JJ, and Brandon.

Skye explained her dilemma and asked them to go back and get a crime scene tech. After a bit of an argument as to whether it would be faster to call the Scumble River PD and wait for the message to be conveyed to Wally, or just to drive back the quarter mile, driving back won.

That decision led to a discussion about who should do what. In the end Brandon and JJ got out of the car to stay with Skye while Jared and his mother were driven back for the tech.

While they waited Skye tried to make conversation. “Do you both work for the family business?”

JJ, the pudgy, blue-eyed blond, ducked his head shyly. “I’m Grandma’s assistant.”

“Where’d you go to school?”

“I graduated from Loyola a year ago with a degree in business.”

“Good school.” Skye turned to the dark-haired one. “How about you, Brandon?”

“I’m the head of the company’s legal department.”

“Does that mean you do
all
the legal work for the company?”

“No.” Brandon smirked. “I supervise the people who do it.”

“My, you seem so young for such a responsible position.”

“Yes. Pays to have family connections. Right, JJ?”

The young man nodded.

Skye nodded too, having benefited from nepotism herself when Uncle Charlie got her the school psych job in Scumble River. Still, she’d bet JJ was making five times what she did, and Brandon probably made ten times her salary.

Skye was uncomfortably aware that they were standing in silence. Neither young man seemed able—or willing—to chat.

She searched for something more to say, wishing the tech would arrive. “Sounds like you’re both tried-and-true Chicagoans. Do you get out to the Scumble River factory very often?”

“We work mostly out of the Chicago building.” JJ stared at his shoes. “Grandma comes out here a lot, and she insists we maintain duplicate offices for all the departments here, but they’re rarely used.”

“Why does she do it, then?” Skye asked, intrigued at the way big business was run compared to the school, where she was lucky to have a single cramped office, let alone a spare one.

“Grandma says she feels closer to Grandpa here than anywhere else,” JJ answered.

Brandon rolled his eyes. “She gets to be the queen bee out here. That’s why she likes it.”

Skye sighed with relief as the unmarked county car
pulled up, followed closely by the Fines’ limo. Skye showed the tech what she had found. She was about to explain that someone wearing a factory jumpsuit had been running past the warehouse that morning, but something stopped her and she decided to tell Wally first.

The Fines offered her a ride home, and she gratefully accepted. As she sat cradled in the soft leather seat of the luxury car, she wondered what it would be like to know that you were going to inherit millions and millions of dollars. Of course, everyone said that money couldn’t buy happiness. Still, she might enjoy the chance to see for herself.

S
kye wasn’t surprised to find several messages on her answering machine when she got home. Most of the callers wanted to know what had happened, and a couple asked how Dante was, but the one she returned immediately was from Frannie, who had called to ask if Ashley had been found.

Skye cradled the receiver between her shoulder and ear so she could change into jeans and a sweatshirt as she phoned the teen. There was no answer at Frannie’s house, and Skye was in the process of looking up Justin’s cell number when her doorbell rang.

She hurried down the stairs, looked out the peephole, and opened the door. “I was just calling you.”

Frannie and Justin stood on her welcome mat. Frannie looked upset, and Justin’s expression said that he was itching to punch something really, really hard really, really soon.

“What’s up?” Skye ushered them inside and steered them toward the kitchen.

Frannie flung herself in the chair Skye offered, but Justin ignored the proffered seat and paced.

Skye raised an eyebrow, then ducked her head into the refrigerator to hide her expression. As she gathered meat,
cheese, and condiments she asked, “Are you hungry? I’m starving. That’s the problem with getting up at five a.m.— you’re ready for lunch by ten.”

Frannie giggled politely, but then drooped back into her original dejected posture.

Justin sneered and kept pacing.

Skye knew from past experience that Justin wanted her to beg him to talk. She also knew that if she did, he would close up tighter than a shrink-wrapped CD case.

Instead she asked, “So, who wants a snack?”

Frannie’s well-mannered, “No, thank you,” was a sharp contrast to Justin’s negative growl.

Skye shrugged and assembled a sandwich. She was just cutting it on the diagonal, because even TV chef Alton Brown said sandwiches tasted better that way, when Bingo sauntered into the kitchen.

The cat had an uncanny ability to appear when food was being prepared or eaten. He could be anywhere in the house, from the attic to the basement, and still manage to arrive before Skye could take the first bite.

This time Bingo ignored Skye and her sandwich, walked over to where Justin was pacing, and started doing figure eights between his ankles.

Skye watched carefully while pretending to be engrossed with shaking potato chips into a bowl. Justin had come a long way from the angry and depressed eighth grader she had originally seen for counseling, but she still wasn’t sure he wouldn’t lash out, given the right circumstances.

At first the teen snarled at the feline, but Bingo ignored him and revved up his purrs to jet-engine volume. Finally Justin stopped moving, and the cat immediately sat down on his feet, looking up at him with a questioning meow.

Skye took a quick peek at Frannie, who had straightened and was staring with her mouth slightly open.

The scraping of a chair on linoleum brought Skye’s attention back to the boy and the cat. Justin was sitting with Bingo on his lap. The teen’s expression was still angry, but his shoulders had relaxed and his hand rested lightly on the cat’s soft black fur.

Skye nonchalantly made her way to the table, putting the bowl of chips in the center and sitting down with her plate. Just before taking a bite she asked again, “What’s up?”

Frannie glanced at Justin, who shrugged and kept petting the cat.

Slumping once again, Frannie sighed and said, “It’s Xenia.”

Skye’s throat tightened, but she forced herself to say lightly, “What about her?”

“She’s being a real bitch,” Justin blurted out.

“In what way?” Skye wanted to ask how being a bitch was new behavior for the girl, but controlled the urge. She couldn’t say that about one student to another, no matter how great the temptation or accurate the observation.

Frannie took a chip and crumbled it in front of her. “She’s claiming that she didn’t write that blog, and is acting like we betrayed her by even thinking she had kidnapped Ashley. She’s turned a bunch of the kids on the newspaper staff against us.”

Ah
. Skye nodded her understanding. Both Frannie and Justin had had friendship issues in the past. Neither had been accepted by the “in” crowd, and they had gotten to the point of forming their own circle of friends only within the last couple of years. Add to this that their group consisted of the other newspaper kids, and Xenia’s duplicity took on a whole new meaning.

Before Xenia’s arrival in the fall, Frannie and Justin had been the undisputed leaders of that crowd, but Xenia had challenged them at every turn for that position.

Justin broke off a piece of potato chip and offered it to Bingo, who sniffed, took a delicate lick, then regally accepted the offering.

Skye took the opportunity to swallow before saying, “When the truth comes out the kids will see who their real friends are. Xenia has a lot of charisma, but it isn’t something that can sustain a relationship for long.”

Frannie nodded. “That’s true. Remember, she tried to get everyone on her side when she first came here, but it didn’t
last long. This is just another lame attempt to be elected editor next year.”

“Easy for you to say.” Justin shook his head. “You’ll be away at college next year. I’ll be the one stuck with her.”

Skye’s internal warning bell went off. This was the first time either Frannie or Justin had acknowledged that Frannie would be leaving next fall, and the pair would be separated.

She stole a peek at Frannie, who swallowed a couple of times before saying, “Maybe you and Xenia will team up and not miss me at all.”

Justin scowled but didn’t verbalize his reply.

Finishing the last bite of her sandwich, Skye pushed the plate away. “You do realize that Mrs. Frayne and I have to approve whoever is elected student editor?”

“You wouldn’t say someone couldn’t if he or she was elected, would you?” Justin asked.

“In a flash, if we thought they’d cause trouble.” Skye poured three glasses of Diet Coke and put one in front of each teen, keeping the third for herself. “But that’s next year, and a lot can happen between now and then. So, any idea where we can look for Ashley? Or did you both forget she’s still missing?”

“I didn’t forget, but there’s nothing I can do about her, and it’s not as if we were her pals or anything.” Frannie shook her head. “When she came into the newspaper office to complain about Xenia’s article, she looked right through me. Then, when she thought she could use me, she tried to pretend we were best friends. So I asked her my name, and she didn’t have a clue. Heck. We’ve been in classes together since third grade.”