Murder of a Bookstore Babe

“You shouldn’t jump to conclusions,” Skye soothed. “Maybe she doesn’t intend to do anything with the tape.”

“Of course she does.” Hugo grunted. “Women like her never know when to quit. Now she’s in for it. She’ll learn that most people have skeletons in their closets, but I bury mine so deep they never see the light of day.”

Oh, my God! Was Hugo admitting murder? “What are you going to do?”

“Tell everyone her dirty little secret.”

Phew! That didn’t sound too violent. “Which is?”

“Hmm.” Hugo stroked his chin. “Why not? Everyone will know in a day or two.”

“Maybe you should talk to her first.” No matter how much she needed this information, Skye didn’t want him to expose Risé to the censure of Scumble River’s gossips.

“I’m through trying to reason with that bitch.” Hugo extracted a monogrammed silver flask from his inside jacket pocket and took a swig. “Everyone’s going to know that the investment firm she worked for swindled its clients out of millions of dollars, and her boss is in prison for securities fraud.”

“That doesn’t mean she was guilty of anything,” Skye pointed out.

“How could she not know what was going on?” Hugo snorted. “And if she’s so innocent, why didn’t she lose all her money like the people who trusted her?”

“How do you know she didn’t?” Skye asked. “Come to think of it, how do you know all this to begin with?” If Wally’s officer hadn’t been able to find out where Risé had last worked, how had Hugo? Of course, Zelda was fresh out of police training, and Hugo had years of practice being a bastard.

“It was easy. I asked around. They paid cash for the building and have no loans or investors. That’s all a matter of public record on file at city hall.” Hugo righted his chair, sat back down, and picked up his video game. “As to the other, who in his right mind gives up a six-figure income to open up a bookstore in Podunk, Illinois?” His voice was an insinuating purr. “I knew there was a scandal somewhere, and once I found out where she used to work, I just looked online until I found it.”

Skye ran the scenario in her head. Since Risé hadn’t been sent to jail, her name wouldn’t have been associated with the case. Furthermore, since men like Risé’s boss usually accepted a plea bargain rather than go to trial, she wouldn’t have had to testify against him.

Hugo was immersed back in his game by the time Skye said, “I have one more question.”

“Yeah?” He lifted his brow in a “What now?” expression.

“Did you find out who her clients were?”

“Nah.” He shrugged. “I didn’t care. Just the fact she was involved in such shady dealings should be enough for the old biddies to chase her out of town. Or at least give her something other than my cars to worry about.”

Skye looked at him in distaste. “That’s pretty cold, Hugo, even for you.”

“Hush.” He put his finger to his lips. “Do you hear that?”

“What?” Skye listened, but the showroom was silent.

“That’s the voices of all the people who care what you think.”

“You are so not funny.” Skye paused, trying to figure out how to ask whether Hugo had an alibi for the night of the murder. He certainly had a motive. “It’s a good thing Risé wasn’t the one murdered last week. Since you hate her so much, you’d be a prime suspect.”

“Hey, Victoria and I were at our church’s Las Vegas night last Saturday between seven and midnight.” Hugo threw back his head and laughed. “I won the grand prize, a flat-screen TV, and the drawing was at eleven o’clock, so I have hundreds of witnesses to prove I was in Clay Center during the time of the murder. Including two priests, a deacon, and the entire choir of St. Mary’s.”

After calling Wally and filling him in on Hugo’s alibi and Risé’s past, Skye headed over to Kayla’s wake. It was scheduled from four to eight p.m., and Skye had a feeling she’d better be there for most of that time. Even though Kayla had been out of high school for a year, if she was as well liked as Neva had claimed, there would probably be a lot of kids attending, and emotions were bound to run high.

Skye was surprised to see that the funeral home’s lot was already packed. It was exactly four thirty, and although the visitation had officially begun thirty minutes ago, small-town etiquette dictated that the family be allowed the first half hour to themselves. Then again, Kayla’s friends were probably too young to know that.

After Skye had made several trips up and down the rows, someone finally pulled out and she could park. She hesitated for a moment before opening the car door. She had meant to go home to change but had run out of time. The green dress Wally had bought her was beautiful, but she preferred to wear a more somber color for a wake.