Murder of a Bookstore Babe

“That’s true.” Simon stared at his black wingtips, wiping a smudge from the toe with his napkin before continuing. “But I think it has something to do with what he’s hiding.”

“Then you’d better find out what his secret is.” Skye sipped her wine. “Not to be mean, but what does any of this have to do with me? If Xavier’s going to open up to anyone, it would be you.”

“True.” Simon tented his fingers under his chin and spoke over the tips. “But if Boyd is going to confide in anyone, it’s you.”

“Are you afraid that Xavier is somehow involved in that girl’s death?” Skye’s tone was incredulous. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I don’t think he killed her.” Simon leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers over his flat abdomen. “But he might know who did.”

Standing on the sidewalk watching Simon get into his car, Skye blew out an exasperated breath. What a day. She’d stumbled across a dead body, muddled the victim’s identity, handled Chase’s meltdown, learned the missing Orlando was actually in the drunk tank, and helped Wally notify Kayla’s parents of her death. Then she’d faced her family’s interrogation, Vince and Loretta’s demands, and finally Simon’s request.

Skye had agreed not to inform the police about Xavier’s investment in the bookstore, but she’d cautioned Simon that if Kayla’s death was anything other than the result of a burglary gone wrong, she would tell Wally. Skye also had assured Simon that she would keep her ears open for anything that might reveal what Xavier was hiding. Before he left, she’d made him promise not to show up at her house uninvited again—no matter what wonderful food he brought.

She climbed the steps to her porch, stopping midway to stare at Simon’s Lexus disappearing down her driveway. She was relieved to see him go. She really needed some time alone to process the events of the day and get ready for work tomorrow. A distracted school psychologist was a careless school psychologist, and that never ended well.

Before claiming her well-earned solitude, Skye reached a hand inside the front door and flicked on the halogen light that was mounted on a pole in her yard. It took her only a moment to clear up the debris of the impromptu pizza party, and as she balanced the box stacked with plates, wineglasses, and used napkins, she glimpsed a flash of yellow behind her garage. What in the world was back there? The only thing she could think of that might be that particular shade was a piece of Caterpillar equipment. But what would an earthmover be doing on her property? Surely, her father hadn’t bought her a backhoe.

Skye was stumped for a second until she remembered the VW she’d helped Xenia Craughwell purchase. But why would the girl be hiding on Skye’s land? Had she heard about Kayla’s death? And if so, how would she react to the news? Xenia’s response to any given situation was a crapshoot, and Skye had long ago given up betting on it.

Before Skye could stash her armload of trash and go investigate, the VW zoomed out from in back of the garage and screeched to a stop at the foot of Skye’s steps. Xenia jumped out and ran up to the porch.

“Seriously. You have more people in and out of here than a crack house.”

“And how would you know that?” Skye arched an eyebrow. “It had better be from TV.”

“Don’t freak.” Xenia opened the front door and gestured for Skye to go inside. “It’s just an expression.”

“Good.” Skye led Xenia down the hall toward the kitchen. “How long have you been spying on me?”

“I wasn’t spying.” Xenia crossed her arms, her expression more embarrassed than defiant. “I had just driven into your driveway when the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade arrived, so I pulled behind the garage to wait. I wanted to talk to you in private.”

“I see.” Skye put the dishes and glasses in the sink and, after scraping off the dried cheese and scraps, threw the box in the recycle bin.

“What was Mr. Reid doing here?” Xenia pursed her lips disapprovingly. “I thought you were hooked up with that buff police chief.” She shrugged, answering her own question. “I guess I should know by now that everyone cheats and there is no happily ever after.”

“That’s not true. Simon was just—” Skye heard herself stammering and closed her mouth in order to gather her thoughts. “Mr. Reid had some information he needed to share with me.”

“Over dinner?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but Mr. Reid is the county coroner, and—”

Xenia cut her off. “Kayla’s dead, isn’t she?”

“I’m so sorry—”

“I knew it. I just knew Kayla was dead.”

“Did you hear it from someone in town?” Skye asked, but wondered why Xenia would have come to her for the information if she’d already been told.

“People were talking, but I didn’t want to believe what they were saying.” Xenia bit back a sob. “When Kayla didn’t show up at my house last night to work on her project and she didn’t answer her cell and her boyfriend kept calling me, I knew something was wrong.”