Murder of a Stacked Librarian (26 page)

Wally snorted, then was silent during the rest of the drive. When they finally pulled into Yvonne’s driveway, there was a moving van backed up to the front door. They got out of the squad car and hurried over to where Phoebe was directing two men carrying a sofa.

When she spotted Skye and Wally, she rushed toward them. Meeting them halfway, she asked, “Did you find out who murdered my mother?”

“Sorry.” Skye patted the young woman’s cold hand. “Not yet. Have you thought of anyone else who might have wanted to harm her?”

“Just the ones we already talked about.” Phoebe’s shoulders slumped.

“Did Tom Riley leave a message on your answering machine the night your mother died?” Skye asked.

“Yeah.” Phoebe nodded. “A couple of them.”

“But you didn’t call him back to tell him what had happened to her?”

“It was a couple of days before I listened to the messages, and by then I figured he’d already heard about the accident.” A tear ran down Phoebe’s cheek. “Besides, I just couldn’t talk about it.”

“I see you’re moving.” Wally broke the silence that had fallen after Phoebe’s last statement. “Where are you going?”

“The lease is up, so I’m putting everything in storage and moving in with Dad and Kerry until I go to college in the fall.” Phoebe grimaced. “Not my first choice of living arrangements, but it’s the only practical solution, and I can help out with Neil Junior.”

“Have you arranged for your mother’s burial yet?” Skye asked gently.

“She wanted to be cremated and have her ashes scattered in the wind.” There was a catch in Phoebe’s voice. “Her motorcycle club will do that for her on their next run.”

“No service?” Skye asked, knowing Wally would want one of his officers to attend to see if anyone acted suspiciously at the wake or funeral.

“No.” Phoebe shook her head. “Mom wasn’t religious, and I can’t face the idea of standing there while people say all the stupid stuff they say at wakes and funerals.”

“I understand,” Skye said, her heart going out to the teenager.

“One more thing and then we’ll let you get back to work.” Wally gestured toward the moving van. “When we searched the house the day after your mom died, we didn’t find any computers. I know you had your laptop with you. Did your mother have one of her own, or did she just use yours?”

“Mom had her own,” Phoebe said. “But hers was at the repair shop when you went through the house. I got it back yesterday.” She half turned. “It’s in my car. Do you want to see it?”

“We’ll need to borrow it for a while.” Wally followed Phoebe as she took off at a trot toward the bright green cube-shaped vehicle parked off to one side. “I’ll make sure you get it back as soon as we’re done with it.”

“No rush.” Phoebe handed him a black canvas case. “I told Mom to just buy a new laptop and not even bother to get this one fixed. It’s as old as the Rolling Stones and as useful as a piece of shit.”

• • •

After Wally and Skye finished with Phoebe, they drove back to the police station, where they spent the next hour going over Yvonne’s computer. Unfortunately, several files were locked. Despite numerous guesses, they weren’t able to figure out the password, and when they called Phoebe, she said she didn’t know it.

With all of Yvonne’s possessions packed and in storage, it was unlikely that Phoebe would run across a list of her mother’s passwords anytime in the near future, so Wally decided to try the crime lab and hope the techs could work on the laptop right away.

He dialed the lab, then pressed the speaker button to allow Skye to hear the conversation. After he explained what he needed, the tech said, “Sorry, Chief. Unless you have a suspect in custody, we won’t be able to get to the computer until Tuesday at the earliest. With New Year’s Day on Monday, most people around here already took off for the long weekend.”

Skye had been more than half afraid that Wally would insist on taking the laptop to Laurel himself, so when she heard the tech’s statement, she breathed a sigh of relief. Then, when she saw how frustrated Wally was with the situation, she was sorry for being so selfish and tried to think of a way to help him.

After a few seconds of thought, she said, “Since the lab can’t do anything until January second, why don’t we ask Justin to try to open the files? He’s helped me out several times.”

“I can’t let a civilian hack into a computer.” Wally crossed his arms.

“Hire him as a consultant. He’s a real computer wizard, and he could use a few extra bucks for college. What do you have to lose?”

“That might work.” Wally thought it over, then shook his head. “But I don’t know if what he finds would be admissible in court.”

“Can you check with someone?” Skye asked.

A short phone conversation later, Wally turned to her and said, “According to the city attorney, we might as well let Justin give it a try. Nothing on the computer would be allowed as evidence anyway because the laptop has been at the repair shop, where files could have been altered.”

“Okay, I’ll call Justin and see if he’s available and thinks he can help us.”

Justin answered on the first ring and agreed to Skye’s proposal, saying he’d be at the PD in five minutes. He cautioned her that it might take him several days to get into the files. Once he arrived, completed the paperwork for his temporary employment, and left with the laptop, Skye and Wally went over every bit of information they had on the case. They reread all the reports, trying to come up with some angle they hadn’t yet explored. Finally, at four, Skye called a halt to their brainstorming session and decreed that they both needed to go home to get ready for the rehearsal.

Wally reluctantly agreed, and they walked out to the parking lot together. It wasn’t that Skye didn’t trust Wally, but she
did
watch to make sure he actually got into his T-bird and drove away from the police station before sliding behind the wheel of her own car. As she steered the Bel Air down the familiar road toward home, she had mixed feelings. While she was glad that both she and Wally were now officially off duty until they returned from their honeymoon, she was disappointed that they hadn’t yet figured out who had killed Yvonne Osborn, or why.

With only forty-five minutes to shower, curl her hair, and reapply her makeup, Skye was just pulling on her clothes when she heard the front door open and Wally’s voice announcing his arrival. She hurriedly slipped on her shoes, then caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror and hesitated.
Yikes!
When she had purchased the dress for the rehearsal, she’d been afraid the skirt was a little short, and now, after two weeks of holiday overeating, the hem was well above her knees.

Not wanting to be late, Skye knew she didn’t have time to change, so with a silent apology to the gods of fashion, she hurried down the stairs. As always, Wally was breathtakingly handsome in a charcoal gray suit, steel blue shirt, and red silk tie. He whistled when he saw Skye, and she ran into his arms. Maybe the dress wasn’t too snug after all.

However, once the rehearsal was over an hour later, Skye stood at the back of the church thinking maybe she should have put on something else, if for no other reason than to avoid the inevitable criticism from her mother.

May tugged at Skye’s skirt and fussed, “This is way too tight on you.” Leaning forward, she hissed in Skye’s ear, “Have you gained weight? What if your wedding gown doesn’t fit?”

“Thanks so much, Mom,” Skye drawled. “You look real nice, too.”

“I wish I hadn’t let you talk me into this outfit.” May frowned, yanking at the waist-length beige lace jacket she wore with a brown satin tank and matching slacks. “It’s too fancy for me. Everyone will be saying, ‘Who does she think she is?’”

Skye smiled, happy her mother’s attention had been diverted from her daughter’s clothing choice to her own appearance. Because although Skye’s dress was more figure-hugging than her normal choice, and more of a mini than she usually preferred, she loved the soft red material shot with silver threads. And the boat neckline was both elegant and flattering. Most important, Wally loved her in it.

Realizing that May’s mind had wandered and she was now complaining to her son that he had ruined her hair, Skye looked around. The rehearsal had gone smoothly, and the bridal party and their significant others were waiting in the narthex for Wally’s father to appear and tell them where the dinner was being held.

Quentin had cornered Wally as soon as the priest dismissed them, and the two men were having what appeared to be a serious discussion off to one side. Wally caught Skye’s gaze and twitched his shoulders, indicating that he was trapped and she nodded her understanding.

Looking away from where her fiancé and his cousin stood, she glanced nervously toward the entrance. Where was Carson? Should she interrupt Wally and Quentin to ask what was going on? Before she could decide, a huge white limousine pulled up in front of the building.

Skye watched through the church’s glass doors as Carson Boyd emerged from the rear of the limo, strode inside the building, bowed to Skye, and said, “Your carriage awaits, darlin’.”

“Wow!” Skye was as close to speechless as she ever got. “All I can say is wow.” She grinned at her future father-in-law and shook her head. “I guess when I said that I didn’t want people to have to drive too far for the dinner, you took me seriously.”

“I certainly did, sugar.” Carson beamed. “I knew you were worried about people driving home under the influence.” He dusted his hands together. “I thought a limo would solve that problem and still let us eat at a decent restaurant.”

“Where are we going?” Skye asked, excited to learn Carson’s choice.

“Tallgrass in Lockport.” Carson took her elbow. “Have you been there?”

“No.”

“
Chicago
magazine named it one of the top-twenty restaurants and
Zagat
gave it a twenty-eight out of thirty rating.” Carson’s Texas twang increased as he spoke enthusiastically about the restaurant.

“That sounds wonderful.” It was a good thing Wally had given May a cover story for his father’s spending habits. “But it may be a little extravagant for my friends and family.” Skye worried her parents and attendants might be uncomfortable. Their taste ran more to the Lone Star Steakhouse than to fine dining.

“Trust me.” Wally joined them, putting an arm around Skye. “It’s not a little extravagant.” He rolled his eyes at his father. “If Dad picked it, the place is over-the-top.”

CHAPTER 23

Many Happy
Book Returns

W
hen they first arrived at Tallgrass, Skye felt a flicker of disappointment. The stone-and-brick Victorian building wasn’t what she’d envisioned when Carson had described the top-rated restaurant. And as her future father-in-law escorted her down an uneven flight of concrete stairs, she glanced uncertainly at Wally, who shrugged as he opened the door for her.

Stepping over the threshold, Skye heard her mother mutter to Uncle Charlie, “Why do we have to come in through the basement?”

Uncle Charlie’s answer was lost when the hostess greeted Carson, Skye, and Wally and took their coats. Once the rest of the bridal party had assembled and been divested of their outerwear, the woman showed them into an area to the right of the lobby. Here the cherrywood wainscoting and antique gas chandeliers were more what Skye had been expecting.

The large room was empty of any other diners, and three long tables were positioned in a U-shape to accommodate the fourteen people in their party. Cut-crystal goblets and wineglasses sparkled next to beautiful china, and polished silver was nestled on snowy-white napkins, creating a stunning setting.

As Skye gazed at the vacant tables scattered around the rest of the space, the hostess came up to her and murmured, “We usually do private events at the Tallgrass Loft in the Norton Building, but that was already booked, so Mr. Boyd purchased the entire second seating.”

“Wow.” Skye smiled at the woman’s awed tone. “How thoughtful of him.”

Once everyone had taken their places, three servers appeared and handed out specially printed menu cards that had WALLY AND SKYE in a heart on the top. As she studied the choices, her mouth watered. This could very well turn out to be the best meal she’d ever eaten.

To Skye’s right, Trixie and her husband conferred over the selections. While Trixie seemed delighted, Owen’s brow was wrinkled in confusion. Glancing around, Skye noted that her parents, Uncle Charlie, and Justin shared Owen’s bewilderment, but Loretta, Vince, Frannie, Grandma Denison, and Father Burns were on Team Trixie.

After drinks were served, Wally and Skye got to their feet, and Wally said, “Skye and I would like to thank all of you for being not only a part of our wedding, but also a part of our lives. And for giving us your time and energy to help make our big day special.”

Wally and Skye lifted their wineglasses, and she saluted, “To our friends and family.”

Carson rose, turned to Wally and Skye, and said, “May you always work as a team. Because if you don’t pull in the same direction, you’ll be hanged by the rope.”

Quentin advised, “May you always be partners, friends, and lovers.” He winked. “But not necessarily in that order.”

Trixie popped up next and giggled. “May Wally be a man who will mess up your hair, not your mind.”

Before anyone else could come up with a toast, the first course was served. Skye had chosen the trio of soups, and she was amazed to see that the snap pea/fennel, potato/mushroom, and watercress/sweet onion were all in the same bowl, but somehow separated into three distinct sections.

As Skye sampled her soup, she checked out the other guests’ responses to their appetizers. While she watched, Owen picked up a sprig of watercress from his salad, examined it as if it were a foreign object, then chomped off the end like he was biting off a wad of chewing tobacco. Trixie followed Skye’s gaze and swatted her husband’s shoulder. He grinned and snatched a morsel from her plate.

To Owen’s right, Justin was inhaling his butter-poached wild prawns as if he were a surgeon who had to get back to a patient he’d left on the operating table. Suddenly, he stopped and poked suspiciously at the balsamic bubbles on top of the shishito peppers; then, apparently deciding they weren’t poisonous, he shoveled a forkful into his mouth.