Murder of a Bookstore Babe

Passing through the enclosed back porch that had been turned into a laundry room, she noticed a folding rack hung with freshly pressed navy uniform shirts, no doubt ironed by Wally’s part-time housekeeper, Dorothy Snyder. As Skye crossed the kitchen, she wondered whether Dorothy would continue to work for them once they were married. And if she did, would it be awkward, since she was one of May’s best friends?

When she entered the bedroom, Skye was tempted to arrange herself across Wally’s king-size mattress and surprise him when he got out of the shower. Reluctantly, she discarded the idea, realizing that with so little time before he had to leave for his meeting, it would be best to greet him upright and fully clothed.

Curling up in a leather club chair in the corner, she waited for him to emerge from the adjoining bathroom. Wally strolled out a few minutes later, still dripping and drying his back with a cocoa brown towel. It took him a second or so to spot Skye, but when he did, a slow grin spread across his handsome face.

Skye smiled back, her gaze traveling from his long, sinewy legs, to his slim hips, up to the molded bronze muscles of his chest and shoulders, and coming to rest on his depthless, dark brown eyes.

“Darlin’, I didn’t expect to see you tonight.” Wally ambled over to her, took her hands, and drew her to her feet. “I wish all surprises were this good.”

Skye wound her arms around his neck and gave him a light kiss. “You sweet-talker.”

He pressed her body tightly to his. “Just the facts, ma’am.”

She felt a lurch of excitement and had to fight the desire to run her fingers down his naked body. “I wanted to catch you before you left for your dinner to talk to you about what I heard today.”

His lips teased her earlobe, and he whispered, “Can it wait?”

A delicious shudder ran through her body, but she gathered her self-control. “Probably not.”

His breath warmed her throat. “Are you sure?”

Her resolve started to melt, and she forced herself to step away from him. “Yes.”

A shadow of annoyance crossed his face; then he turned toward his dresser, slid open the top drawer, and said over his shoulder, “What’s up?”

As he put on underwear and socks, she told him what Neva had said to her, and Skye’s own thoughts as she watched Risé walk away, finishing with, “And I really think that not only was the murder the primary intention, as we discussed last night, but that Risé was the intended victim.”

Wally zipped up a pair of black jeans and threaded a belt through the loops. “Just because Kayla’s godmother says everyone loved her doesn’t make it true.”

“I know that, but during my lunch break today I checked her school records. She was a good student, participated in activities, and never got so much as a detention for chewing gum.”

“Still, you said there was a problem with her parents.” He looked unconvinced as he pulled a silver-gray turtleneck over his head. “What was your impression of their reaction Sunday when we notified them of Kayla’s death?”

“Well. They both appeared genuinely shocked, and the mom was certainly devastated.” Skye nibbled her thumbnail. “But the stepdad seemed like he couldn’t wait to get rid of us.” She tilted her head. “What did you think?”

“The same.”

“So unless Neva’s description is absolutely the opposite of the situation, Kayla’s parents were totally uninvolved with her life, which would mean no reason to kill her. Besides, she and her boyfriend were getting married in a month. She’d be completely out of their hair after that, so why murder her?”

“You have a point.” Wally grabbed a black tweed blazer from his closet. “I’m still not clear on the logistics.” He stuffed his wallet into his pants pocket and grabbed his keys. “Wouldn’t whoever murdered Kayla have noticed it was her and not Risé?”

“This is what I think happened.” Skye clipped Wally’s cell to his belt for him as she explained, “I think when the murderer arrived, Kayla had her back to the entrance. Maybe she was reaching to put away a book on a high shelf.”

“Wouldn’t she have heard the bells over the door jingle when it was opened?”

“Yes, but she probably said something like, ‘Be right there.’ Or ‘Sorry. We’re closed,’ and didn’t turn around.” Skye paused to gather her thoughts, then continued, “So the killer walks up to her and whacks her on the back of the head, thinking she’s Risé.”

“Then why was she found facedown?” Wally looked at Skye in the dresser’s mirror as he combed his damp hair. “In your scenario, she should have fallen backward.”

“Unless the blow didn’t knock her out immediately. In that case she would have swung around to see who hit her, and then fallen forward,” Skye explained. “It’s my understanding that people don’t always die right away from a head injury.”

“Okay.” Wally put his hand on the small of Skye’s back and walked with her out of the bedroom and toward the door. “Say we go with your theory that the store owner, not the clerk, was the intended victim. Who wanted to kill Risé?”