Murder of a Bookstore Babe

Wally patted his flat stomach. “That’s right. They pay me to sit around and eat donuts.” After making sure Hugo got the message, he drew Skye aside and made a sweeping gesture. “Be my guest.”

Victoria muttered as she went past. “Some of us don’t need to make a big deal in order to draw all eyes to us.”

Huh? Skye had no idea where that had that come from. Victoria had almost sounded jealous, but that couldn’t be it. She looked like a goddess. Smooth blond hair fell straight to the middle of her back, blue eyes shone from a sun-kissed complexion, and the short indigo halter dress she wore molded to her slim, toned body.

Once Hugo and his wife were out of earshot, Skye said to Wally, “I used to feel sorry for Victoria—Hugo’s one of the most insufferable men I know. But she just lost a lot of my sympathy.”

“Don’t be too hard on her.” Wally took Skye’s hand and ran his fingers over her inner wrist. “It’s hard for someone like her, who has always gotten along on her looks, to realize that sometimes that’s not enough.”

“What do you mean?”

“Victoria doesn’t think you’re as beautiful as she is, but you get in the paper all the time, and now that you’re engaged, that’s all anyone can talk about.”

“Not really.”

“Yes, really.” Wally kissed her palm.

“You know, Hugo didn’t seem quite like himself tonight.” Skye frowned.

“Yeah.” Wally’s grin was sharklike. “I noticed the improvement right away.”

“I’m not kidding.” Skye bit her lip. “He’s usually a lot . . . uh . . . smoother, more unctuous. I wonder what brought about the change.”

“Maybe you can find out when you talk to him tomorrow.” Wally placed his palm on the small of her back. “Shall we?”

They entered the outer rink area, and Skye recognized most of the group milling around. Everyone who was anyone in town was present.

“Why are all these people here?” Skye wrinkled her brow and whispered to Wally. “Most of them seem to be doing more talking than skating.”

“Same reason we are.” Wally cupped her elbow, and they moved toward a man standing behind a counter. “To show support for a new business in town.”

“Funny they didn’t do that for Tales and Treats,” Skye muttered.

“Milton’s lived in Scumble River for the past seventeen years.” Wally raised an eyebrow. “You know how things work around here.”

Milton Leigh had short brown hair that resembled the growth on a Chia Pet. He was long and lean, with full lips framed by wrinkles. Skye couldn’t tell whether he was forty or fifty or maybe even older.

Wally shook hands with the skate center owner and said, “Milton, I don’t think you know my fiancée, Skye Denison. Skye, this is my old friend Milton Leigh.”

Skye shook hands and said, “The rink looks wonderful, Mr. Leigh.”

“Call me Milton.” His gray eyes were shrewd. “You must be the mayor’s niece.”

“Yes.” Skye stopped herself from making a face. “I must be.”

Milton was dressed in jeans and a cotton plaid shirt with pearl snaps. He reminded Skye of a 1960s Grand Ole Opry star, and she wondered whether he could sing.

He looked her over and said to Wally, “Big improvement over the last filly you hooked up with.”

Skye narrowed her eyes. She really didn’t like being compared to livestock, even if she was being awarded a blue ribbon.

“No offense intended.” Milton grinned at her sour expression. “You have to excuse an old cowboy.”

“Of course.” Skye changed the subject. “You’ve got a big crowd tonight.”

“Yep.” Milton nodded. “But these people aren’t my bread and butter. I bet you none of them will even lace on a pair of skates.”

“Oh? It’s nice that they’re here to support you, though, right?”

“Only a few, like your fella, are here for me.” Milton caressed his big silver belt buckle. “Most are like Hugo over there. He needs to keep his finger stirring the pot and riling everyone up. He’s really got a bee in his bonnet this time.” Milton shook his head. “Now, are you two going to skate or what?”

“Do you think he meant Hugo’s problem with Risé?” Skye asked Wally as they put on the roller skates Milton had handed them.

“Maybe.” Wally took Skye’s hand, and they glided into the rink. “Guess you better come up with a good reason to talk to Hugo tomorrow, because it’s a sure thing I wouldn’t get anywhere questioning him. He’d just call his daddy and complain about police harassment.”

CHAPTER 18

The Invisible Man

It was already nine thirty Thursday morning when Skye and Caroline Greer, the elementary school principal, walked into the main office. The Pupil Personnel Service meeting had gone more than an hour longer than usual because twin six-year-old boys with special needs had moved into the district the day before, and the staff had to hurry to prepare for their intake conferences.

Caroline and Skye were engrossed in discussing the complicated case when Fern Otte, the school secretary, thrust Skye aside and screeched, “Arnold Underwood is gone!”

“When was he last seen?” Caroline, a tiny woman with a cloud of white hair, was known for her unruffled demeanor and ability to keep her staff calm.