Murder of a Pink Elephant (13 page)

The four of them were quiet until Skye said, “It was good of the veterans to donate the use of their banquet hall for Wally’s campaign rally.”

“We always support candidates who recognize the contribution the armed forces have made.” Xavier had been a medic in Vietnam.

It was Skye’s turn to nod.

Simon took her hand and said, “It looks like we can get some food now. Are you ready?”

“Yes. I’m starving.” Skye got up from her chair and said to Frannie and Xavier, “Excuse us. We’ll be back in a second.”

As they went through the buffet line, Skye and Simon ran
into a friend from their bowling league, who said, “I hear you’re reopening the bowling alley next Friday night. Does that mean we’ll be able to play the Friday after that?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Great. I’ll spread the word.” He clapped Simon on the back and moved away.

Skye and Simon returned to their table in time to see Uncle Charlie mounting the steps to the stage. She had forgotten that he was Wally’s campaign manager. His booming voice didn’t need the microphone that he stood behind. He was dressed in his usual uniform of gray twill pants, white shirt, and suspenders. In honor of the occasion, he had added a red bow tie and polished his black work shoes.

Charlie waited for a few minutes as the crowd quieted, then he said, “Tonight it is my pleasure to introduce Scumble River police chief Walter Boyd.” He paused for the applause to finish then continued, “Walter Boyd has served Scumble River well for the past eighteen years, first as a patrolman, then sergeant, and finally as the chief of police. Today he is officially announcing that he would like to continue to serve this town, but in a new capacity, as our mayor. Please welcome Walter Boyd.”

The clapping rose in a crescendo and then trailed off as Wally took center stage and gestured for silence. The few silver threads in his hair emphasized its ebony color, and the faint lines that bracketed his warm brown eyes made him appear open and friendly. His muscular build and year-round tan were shown to full advantage in a well-tailored black suit and crisp white shirt.

“Uh, thank you.” He cleared his throat. “Thank you. I’m deeply honored that you have all come here tonight to support my campaign. Scumble River is a special town, and I want to keep it that way, which is why I’m running for mayor.”

Wally spoke for about twenty minutes and then concluded
with, “Our town has had a rough couple of years. We still have not received the check Mr. Scumble promised us. The farmers have suffered from poor crops, and the recent layoffs at the power plant have put a good many of our citizens out of work. This has resulted in less money being spent, which has hurt our small business owners, who are struggling to keep their doors open.”

He paused and took a drink of water. “But we don’t have to roll over and take whatever someone wants to dish out to us. You’ve all heard about the proposed amusement park, Pig-In-A-Poke Land. So far the developer has made a lot of promises to a lot of people, but what he has not done is talk about the impact on our community. He has not discussed the increased traffic, the wear and tear on our public areas, and the danger of having so many strangers in our town. Most of all, he has not mentioned who will pay for the added police, extra repairs, and damage to our way of life.”

Skye leaned over to Simon and whispered, “If Wally’s elected mayor, could he stop Gibson from building that amusement park?”

“Not officially,” Simon answered. “The land Gibson wants to put it on is outside the city limits. No doubt he got the county permits he’ll need before anyone around here heard the first hint about the project. But as mayor, Wally will influence whether the town supports the amusement park or interferes with it.”

“Oh.” Skye turned her attention back to the stage.

Wally ended by saying, “We can and will recover from these setbacks without having to change the fundamental nature of the town we love.”

The crowd reacted to the end of his speech with thunderous applause, stomping feet, and whistles of approval. When the noise died down, Charlie returned to the stage and said, “Chief Boyd will now answer questions.” Charlie smiled genially and scanned the audience for raised hands.

Before he could acknowledge anyone, a voice from the rear of the room shouted, “If you’re such a wonderful police chief, why did it take a civilian to solve the Addisons’ murders? And will you need her help to find Logan Wolfe’s killer?”

In the ensuing silence, Skye felt her heart sink, and she considered crawling under the table. She knew that Wally had taken a lot of flak over her involvement in some of the recent murder investigations, but up until the Addison case, she had been able to keep her part in solving the crimes fairly quiet.

Unfortunately, the local paper, which had previously only featured advertisements and sports statistics, had changed hands. The new owner, intent on turning the
Star
into a real newspaper, had run a big story about her part in solving the murders.

As Wally started to respond to the question, Skye whispered to Simon, “Who said that?” She didn’t want to turn around, have the heckler spot her, and give the guy more ammunition.

Simon looked over his shoulder, then answered in a low voice, “I don’t recognize him, but he looks like Santa Claus.”

“Shit!” Skye dug through her purse and got her compact out. “I’ll bet it’s Moss Gibson.” She aimed it behind her and frowned. All she could see was a man’s red back as he slipped out of the room. “It had to be him, but he left before I got a good look.”

Wally must have noticed the man’s departure too, because he stopped what he had been saying about the police department always welcoming the assistance of anyone in the community and whispered something to Charlie before finishing his statement.

Charlie hurried away and disappeared out a side door.

  
CHAPTER 12
  

W
ally continued to take questions until no more hands waved in the air, then said, “Thank you all for coming. Please stick around. The ladies will be putting out some delicious homemade cakes and cookies, and Pink Elephant has agreed to play while you enjoy your dessert.”

So Vince’s group
was
playing. Would they go on as a trio, or had they found a substitute vocalist to take Logan’s place? Skye watched the stage as Wally climbed down. His ex-wife, Darleen, met him at the bottom of the stairs and took his arm. He grimaced but allowed her to hang on to him as she whispered urgently into his ear. A moment later he and Darleen, her hand still possessively clutching his arm, walked toward a nearby table and started chatting with the group seated there.

Skye frowned. Darleen had been obsessed with the idea of having a baby, and when she found out she was unable to conceive, she had divorced Wally for a man whose wife had died and left him with an infant to care for. Skye wondered what had motivated her to return.

“What’s she doing with the chief?” Frannie voiced the question in Skye’s mind. “I thought they had split up.”

Skye kept the expression on her face neutral. “It’s not uncommon for divorced couples to reconcile.”

Simon looked at Skye thoughtfully before returning to his conversation with Xavier.

“Well, I don’t think that’s a very good idea.” Frannie’s face was stiff with disapproval. “You should tell Chief Boyd he can do better than her.”

Darleen was the special education teacher at the junior high school. Her lack of empathy and volatile temper had made her unpopular with all the students, not just the ones she had in her class.

“I think the chief can handle his own love life without my advice.” Skye’s attention was drawn back to the stage when the band started to ascend the stairs.

Vince was first up. He went immediately to his drums and started checking them out. Almost on his heels was Finn, who also began adjusting his instrument. After several minutes Rod came out of the back with Heather, and they too climbed the stairs. Rod helped the girl singer with her microphone before turning to his own preparation.

Skye raised an eyebrow. So the groupie had gotten her wish; she was now singing with the band. And all it took was Logan’s death. It looked like she would have to persuade Vince to talk to Wally about Heather after all.

Frannie said, “Wonder how they got a new singer so fast.”

Skye blinked. Sometimes it seemed as if the girl could read her mind. “They probably have a list of subs in case of emergency.” There was no way she would explain the Heather situation to the teen.

Frannie shrugged, clearly already bored with the subject, and said, “Want to go get some dessert?”

“Sure.”

Frannie jumped out of her chair and took off toward the sweet table.

Skye paused before following her to ask Simon and Xavier if she could get them anything. Simon accepted, requesting chocolate cake, but Xavier declined, saying he didn’t eat refined sugar.

Frannie and Skye browsed the dessert selection with the concentration of diamond experts picking the perfect stone. There was so much to choose from: slices of cake oozing with buttercream frosting, wedges of pie piled high with meringue, and brownies bursting with nuts or caramel. Best of all, whipped cream was everywhere.

Skye reached for a plate just as another hand swooped it away. She looked up into the bulging hazel eyes of Wally’s ex-wife.

Darleen Boyd’s penciled eyebrows rose high on her pale forehead. “Seems we both have the same taste in sweet things,” she said.

Skye felt herself flush. Surely Darleen wasn’t implying what Skye thought she was. Skye was pretty sure that only one or two people were aware of the chemistry between Wally and her—especially since they had never acted on their attraction.

Skye reached for another plate, her voice smooth as she said to Darleen, “There’s plenty here for both of us.”

“Perhaps.” The other woman’s glance swept Skye’s ample curves from head to toe. “But while I can afford the cost of indulging, it looks like you would be better off passing this time.”

Skye’s mouth dropped open, and for a moment she couldn’t think of a reply, but Frannie’s stricken expression snapped her out of her shock, and she shrugged nonchalantly. “Guess I’m just a nutritional overachiever.”

Darleen gave a brittle laugh. “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that term.”

“No, I guess you wouldn’t be.” Skye stared into the other
woman’s eyes without blinking. “An overachiever is someone who is successful despite certain challenges.”

Darleen blinked, then turned on her heel and walked away.

Skye examined the divorcée as she left. She was in her late thirties but dressed as if she were at least a decade younger. Tonight she wore a mini slip dress that emphasized her twiglike arms and legs. Her short brown hair covered her skull in feathery wisps, and her complexion was as pale as a piece of milk quartz.

Darleen joined Wally where he stood talking to a group of his supporters. As she fed him a bite of pie, her eyes bored directly into Skye’s, and the message was clear: Mine. No Trespassing Allowed.

The majority of the Meet and Greet attendees left after they ate dessert, and the few who remained at the bar or on the dance floor had started to glance at their watches and say their good-byes, too. Most events that took place on weeknights in Scumble River wrapped up before ten, and it was already nine-forty-five.

Xavier and Frannie had left with the first wave, as had Skye’s parents and most of her relatives. She and Simon stuck around for Vince’s sake, but she was yawning, and Simon had moved into a Zen-like state. Both were worn out by the events of the last few days.

Finally, fifteen minutes later, the band finished its last song and started to pack up.

Skye and Simon climbed onto the stage. “You guys sounded great,” she said to her brother.

“Yeah.” Vince paused in putting a drum into a black case to wipe off his sweaty forehead with his arm. “Not bad, considering we had to substitute some equipment and were playing with a new vocalist.”

“She has a nice voice,” Simon commented.

“Yeah, I think she’s going to work out well, if we get some other stuff straightened out.” Vince shot Skye a look.

“Speaking of that,” Skye leaned closer to Vince and lowered her voice, “have you mentioned her involvement with Logan to Wally?”

He shook his head and refused to meet her eyes.

“Then I’ll have to.”

“No!” Vince took a breath. “I mean, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Simon’s expression was puzzled. Skye hadn’t told him about Heather. Now she filled him in, and he agreed. “Vince, it’d be a good idea for you to be the one to tell Wally about Heather’s involvement with Logan and the rest of the band.”

“Someone will spill the beans, and the rest of you will look really guilty.” Skye took Vince’s hand. “Maybe we should talk to Wally about Heather together.”

He nodded reluctantly. “Okay, but she doesn’t have anything to do with Logan’s death.”

Skye was concerned by her brother’s defense of the groupie. That couldn’t be a good thing. “I’ll pick you up at five to seven tomorrow and we’ll go to the police station. Wally works the seven-to-eleven shift, so he’ll be just signing on when we get there. I’ll call the school and tell them I’ll be an hour or so late, due to a family emergency.”

“But I have a seven-thirty appointment tomorrow.”

“Cancel it.” Skye took Simon’s arm and started toward the stairs. “See you tomorrow.”

Simon and Skye drove to her cottage in silence. As he turned into her driveway, he said, “Vince could be in a lot of trouble. The information about Heather makes him look bad.”

“I know.” Skye felt her chest tighten at the thought of her brother’s situation. “I wish I knew what to do.”

“Wally’s fair. The best thing you can do is to make sure Vince tells the truth, the whole truth.”

“Unfortunately, I’m pretty sure there’s something he’s not telling even me, and I doubt he’ll tell Wally.”

“You don’t think he—”

“No. Of course not.”

“But?”

“But I think he might have a good idea who did.”