Murder of a Stacked Librarian (7 page)

“Well, maybe.” Wally shrugged. “It’s hard to say. She was always pretty chatty.”

“Okay.” Skye bit her lip. “I should have warned you that Mom doesn’t have any perception of personal boundaries where her kids are concerned. She drops in unexpectedly, requires daily phone contact, and has spies everywhere.” She sighed. “In the future, be careful how much info you share with her. If she knows too much, she’ll be able to plan a coup and take over our lives.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Wally leaned back. “But I’m sure it won’t be a problem for me like it is for you. You’re her only daughter.”

“Right.” Skye stretched out the word. “I’m sure she’s not interested at all in the potential father of her grandchildren.” She stared at him, willing him to understand the seriousness of the situation. “It’s taken a lot for me to stop her from interfering. I know people think I don’t have a backbone where she’s concerned, but I’ve drawn some tough lines, and it will be harder to enforce them with even the possibility of babies in the future.”

Wally nodded, but Skye could tell he didn’t fully understand, so she let the matter drop. She’d continue the discussion another time. Maybe after a few instances of May ambushing him, Wally would figure it out.

Gesturing to the gifts she’d arranged on the coffee table, Skye said, “Open the big one next. It’s from me.”

Wally loved the introductory selection from the Beer of the Month Club and immediately placed the six-pack in the fridge to chill. Next, he slid the paper off the Ford Thunderbird fiftieth-anniversary watch, and after admiring it, he put it on his wrist. Then he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a tiny box.

He gazed at it for several seconds before handing Skye the beautifully wrapped package and said, “I hope you’ll wear these on our wedding day.”

Skye carefully removed the paper and lifted the velvet lid. Inside was a pair of gold earrings: two swirling ribbons, one lined with shimmering baguette-cut diamonds and the other with glittering round diamonds, formed an X. She caught her breath. They were dazzling.

Wally looked into Skye’s eyes and said, “Since X marks the spot on a treasure map and you are the treasure of my life, I had to get them for you.”

Skye’s throat closed and tears slid down her cheeks. No one had ever said anything like that to her before. A couple of men had told her that they loved her, but this was beyond being in love. Wally’s words meant so much more. She swallowed, unable to speak.

“What’s wrong?” Wally wrinkled his brow. “Don’t you like them?”

“I love them and I love you!” Skye flung herself into his arms and rained kisses all over his face. “You are everything I ever wanted in a man and had given up hope of finding. I never thought I could feel this way about anyone or that anyone would feel this way about me.”

• • •

A few minutes later, as Skye and Wally were getting naked on the couch, Skye heard a low growl. She glanced to her right and gazed into a pair of yellow eyes.
Oh, my God!
How had a creature like that gotten into the house? Was Bingo okay?

Tapping Wally on the shoulder, Skye pointed silently at the gray caninelike animal standing in the sunroom’s doorway.

He tensed, then put his lips to her ear and said softly, “Wolf.”

Skye nodded and whispered, “Where’s your gun?”

“In the safe in the bedroom,” Wally answered, then said, “I’m going to get up slowly; then you do the same.”

The wolf didn’t move as Skye and Wally rose from the sofa, but once they were vertical, it turned and padded silently away. Wally quickly pulled on his pants, grabbed a wrought-iron lamp from an end table, and crept toward the door. Skye wrapped herself in the throw from the back of the love seat and followed him.

They both watched as the animal strolled into the kitchen and out the mysteriously open back door. Before it disappeared, the wolf turned its head and seemed to wink.

Wally rushed forward and slammed the back door. “What the hell just happened?”

Unwilling to share her belief that Mrs. Griggs had once again foiled their lovemaking, Skye said, “The door must not have fully latched after I put out the trash earlier and the wind must have blown it open.”

“How about the wolf?”

“Maybe it smelled Bingo’s food,” Skye offered. She really, really didn’t want Wally to be so spooked that he refused to live in her house after they were married. Then her chest tightened and she gasped, “Bingo! We need to make sure the wolf didn’t eat him.”

Skye didn’t take an easy breath until they located the cat. He was fast asleep on her bed, apparently unaware that his territory had been invaded by a wild animal.

Patting the snoozing feline, Skye glanced at the clock and screamed. It was a quarter to one. All thoughts of the wolf were erased from her mind, and she shot off the bed and ran into the bathroom. They had fifteen minutes to get dressed, load the car, and drive to her parents’ house. Being late wasn’t an option.

As she smoothed her hair, she yelled to Wally, “Throw on the rest of your clothes; then bring me my dress from the sunroom and put all the presents under the tree into the Bel Air.” She knew they had too much stuff to fit into his Thunderbird.

By the time Skye tugged on her boots, she could hear Wally traipsing in and out of the house. When she ran down the stairs, he was holding her coat out for her. She shrugged into it, then sprinted into the kitchen, grabbed the side dish she’d been assigned—green bean casserole—and hurried out to the car.

Wally had the Chevy idling with the passenger door open, and as soon as she hopped in, he stomped on the gas pedal. He was as terrified of displeasing May as Skye was.

As Wally drove, Skye mentally ran through the list of what she was supposed to bring. She crossed her fingers that she hadn’t forgotten anything. As with being allowed to make the zuppa Inglese for the party the night before, it had been a surprise that her mother had permitted her to cook. Except for extended family gatherings when everyone brought potluck, any meal at May’s house was fully prepared by May.

While Skye hoped this new honor had been bestowed on her because her mom finally considered her a grown-up, more likely it was because May was overwhelmed with preparations for the wedding, the holiday, and Vince and Loretta’s baby. Doubtlessly, Skye’s mother was running herself ragged trying to control all three events.

Skye nodded to herself; yep, that had to be it. But a second later, she wrinkled her brow. She had a funny feeling that her mother had another iron in the fire. Something else had to be occupying some of May’s attention, or Skye’s recent maneuverings to avoid her mother wouldn’t have been successful. Under normal circumstances, with the wedding so close, a single phone call a day wouldn’t have satisfied May. If Skye wouldn’t come to May, May would have camped out on Skye’s doorstep. What was her mother doing instead?

Before Skye could find an answer, Wally asked, “Are you okay?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You’re awfully quiet.”

“I was just thinking about Mom,” Skye explained. “I realized that she hasn’t been around as much as I would have expected.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“No.” Skye bit her thumbnail. “I’m relieved, but something feels a little . . .”

“Hinky?”

“Yeah. That’s the word.” Skye nodded. “I’m afraid she’s up to no good. At least
we
won’t think it’s good. Has she mentioned anything to you that you thought was odd, or done anything suspicious?”

“Not that I can remember.” Wally scratched his head. “The only thing that comes to mind is that I was surprised she was taking next week off instead of this one. She’s working her regular afternoon shift Tuesday through Thursday and traded with Thea for days on Friday.”

“I guess she figured she’d need some time to recover,” Skye mused. “Or maybe she thinks that Loretta will have the baby a week early.”

“I’ll bet that’s it.” Wally turned into Skye’s parents’ driveway. “She did mention that she hopes her first grandchild isn’t born while we’re away on our honeymoon.”

“Why would she care about that?”

“No idea.” Wally shrugged. “But I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” Skye agreed, then muttered to herself as she exited that car, “But if you knew my mother like I do, you’d definitely be worried.”

CHAPTER 7

Read Between the Lines

T
uesday morning, Skye jerked out of a deep sleep. She had been dreaming about her wedding day. They were at the part in the ceremony when Father Burns asked if there were any objections to the marriage, and suddenly people started popping up with protests as if the church were a giant toaster.

First, May jumped to her feet and yelled that the groom was too old. Next, Wally’s ex-wife, Darlene, screamed that she still loved him, followed closely by Skye’s ex-boyfriend Simon, who shouted that he still loved her. Then finally, just as Pope Benedict XVI came down the aisle to challenge Wally’s annulment, the church exploded as if struck by a cruise missile.

Coming fully awake, Skye put her hand to her racing heart. What a nightmare. She turned to tell Wally about it, then remembered that he had said he was going into the police station early. She’d been tempted to beg off helping with the murder investigation. There were only four days until the wedding and she already had enough on her plate without adding the duties of police psych consultant. But in the end she knew her conscience would nag at her if she didn’t do everything she could to find Yvonne’s killer.

Skye checked the clock radio on the nightstand, then rocketed out of bed.
Shoot!
It was already past nine o’clock. Wally must have fed Bingo before he left, or the cat’s stomach alarm would have gone off hours ago and he would have roused her, demanding his breakfast. She hoped Wally had also cleaned the litter box, because if he hadn’t, the finicky feline might very well show his displeasure by leaving her a little gift—possibly right in the middle of the parlor on her new hand-knotted wool rug.

As Skye showered, she scrolled through her mental file of chores. It might be the twenty-sixth of December, but there were no after-Christmas sales in her future. Instead, she had to contact the photographer, florist, and DJ to go over the final arrangements, confirm the schedule of events, and make sure none of the vendors screwed up.

She was trying hard not to become the crazed bride her California cousin had been before her wedding, but after some of the mistakes that had already occurred, Skye had a newfound empathy for all the bridezillas she had sneered at in the past. It wasn’t that she demanded perfection; she knew that would never happen. She just didn’t want a disaster.

Since Wally had said he wouldn’t need her at the PD until after lunch, Skye had almost three hours to work on the wedding. But first she had to figure out what to wear.

Because she had to dress up for her job as a school psychologist, she’d been looking forward to spending this week in sweats. Regrettably, there was no way she could take part in an interrogation looking like she’d just come from the gym, so instead of her comfy tracksuit, she put on a pair of camel wool slacks and a green cashmere sweater set that matched her eyes.

After checking that Bingo’s litter box met his lofty standards, she fixed herself tea and an English muffin. Thus fortified, she started making phone calls to the various vendors in her file. The DJ confirmed that he had the two most important songs—the first dance, “At Last,” sung by Etta James, and the father/daughter dance, “I Loved Her First,” sung by Heartland. The rest of the playlist would be a combination of fifties, sixties, and seventies classics with some present-day country music mixed in.

Next, Skye reiterated to the photographer that she didn’t want to take pictures of her and Wally together in advance of the wedding. It might be a superstition, but they’d had enough bad luck in their relationship, and she wasn’t taking a chance by allowing the groom to see her in her bridal gown before the ceremony.

The call to the florist went quickly, and a few minutes before noon, Skye closed her wedding organizer, grabbed the lunch she had packed to share with Wally, and headed to the PD. There were only a few cars in the lot adjacent to the redbrick building shared by the police station, city hall, and the library. As Skye passed the entrance to the stairs leading up to the library, she noticed a black wreath hanging on the door. She paused, wondering how Yvonne’s daughter was coping with her death. Losing a parent was never easy, and now Christmas Eve would forever be associated with her mother’s passing. Skye pressed her lips together. No matter how many murders she helped investigate, she would never understand why someone would kill a fellow human being.

Sighing, Skye went into the station. She waved hello to Thea, who was on the phone at the dispatcher’s desk, then used her key to let herself into the back. The cubicles that the officers used to do paperwork were empty, and the station was eerily quiet. But as she started to climb the stairs to Wally’s office, she heard voices coming from the top of the steps.

Apparently Wally and Roy Quirk were standing in the corridor that separated the police chief’s office from the mayor’s, discussing staffing issues, because Skye heard Wally say, “I know you don’t like Zuchowski, but you’ve got to work with the tools you’re given.”

“Yeah, but it’s unfortunate that Zuchowski is one of those tools.” Skye reached the landing just in time to catch Quirk folding his arms across his chest and saying, “And he’s going to be missing from the toolbox
again
. He called a few minutes ago to say he won’t be coming in again today. The last shift he worked was days on Saturday.”

“What in holy hell is the problem this time?” Wally’s ears were red. “Don’t tell me he has another family emergency.”

“Nah.” Sergeant Quirk was Wally’s second in command and handled personnel scheduling. “He says he has the flu. Probably won’t be able to take the duty again until next week.”

“But you don’t believe him?” Wally had his back to Skye.