Murder of a Bookstore Babe

Once Skye was out of the Bel Air, she quickly crossed the asphalt and pushed through the funeral home’s double glass doors. At the top of the foyer steps, she paused and looked at herself in the mirrored wall. She tugged on the fabric, a gorgeous cashmere knit that clung to her curves. Was it a bit too sexy for this situation? The V neckline and shorter-than-usual hem made her a little self-conscious, but she had vowed not to cover herself in yards of polyester just because she weighed more than Vogue considered attractive.

Taking a deep breath, she hiked her tote bag higher on her shoulder, straightened her spine, and walked through the archway. It was too late to do anything about her outfit now, and she had more important things to worry about than her appearance.

The overpowering scent of flowers and the hum of numerous conversations assaulted her as she stepped inside the viewing room. Stopping, she scanned the chairs. Most were occupied by teenagers and the elderly. Perhaps Kayla’s parents’ friends would come later, after they got off work.

After signing the guest book, Skye joined the long line of people waiting to pay their respects. From her place in the back, Skye studied Kayla’s mother, Kara. She hadn’t had much time to observe the woman when she and Wally had made the death notification. Kara had collapsed on the sofa sobbing, and Kayla’s stepfather had immediately hustled them out the door before Skye had been able to form an impression of the couple.

Now, seeing Kara formally dressed and made-up, Skye thought she didn’t seem old enough to have a nineteen-year-old daughter. Her pale oval face was flawless, and her long blond hair fell in a straight curtain to the middle of her back. Kayla’s stepfather, Mick O’Brien, stood next to his wife, looking uncomfortable in a shiny navy suit.

Mick’s bored expression, and the way he gripped Kara’s elbow whenever she hugged someone for too long, convinced Skye that Neva had been correct about the family dynamics. It was clear that this man had not cared about his stepdaughter and totally dominated his wife.

Skye moved slightly so she could see the first row of the seating area, the one reserved for close relatives. She was curious to get a look at Kayla’s extended family. Only three chairs were occupied. Neva sat in one, with twins who appeared to be five or six on either side of her.

They were cute little boys, and Skye assumed they were Kayla’s half brothers. They appeared to have inherited their mother’s fair hair and complexion. Seeing them made Skye wonder whether Kayla had looked like her biological father. She’d heard that he had been killed in a hunting accident before his daughter was born.

The woman in front of Skye had just walked away after speaking to Kara and Mick, and Skye hadn’t moved forward yet when she heard Mick hiss to his wife, “How much longer do we gotta stand here?”

Either Mick didn’t feel it was necessary to hide his impatience, or he was the type of guy who had never had to pretend and thus never learned how.

Kara’s cornflower blue eyes were shiny with tears, and she jerked her arm from his fingers. “You can leave anytime.”

Skye saw Mick’s freckled face flush an unbecoming red, and as he reached for Kara, Skye stepped between them. Keeping her back to the obnoxious man, she said, “Mrs. O’Brien, I’m Skye Denison. I was with Chief Boyd when he told you about Kayla, but I also knew her from the gifted class at high school. You have my deepest sympathy.”

Kayla’s mother clutched Skye’s hand. “She was amazing, wasn’t she? Did you know her final project at film school last year won an award?”

“No, I didn’t. But I understand she was very talented. I’d like to see some of her work sometime.”

Before his wife could respond, Mick put his palm on Skye’s shoulder and propelled her down the line, saying, “Thank you for coming.”

Skye found herself facing Neva as the older woman stood and moved into her path.

The principal’s eyes were red rimmed, and it took her several tries before she was able to speak. “What have you found out?”

“Nothing I can talk about.” Skye tried to steer Neva to a more private location, but she refused to budge.

Neva swallowed hard and frowned. “That’s what I was afraid of. The police are giving up, aren’t they?”

“Definitely not. It’s only been five days since the murder was discovered.” Skye spotted a pair of overstuffed chairs screened by a huge flower arrangement. “Come sit with me and I’ll tell you what I can.”

Once they were seated, Skye scooted as close as she could without her knees bumping against Neva’s and lowered her voice. “The police are pursuing this case as if the primary objective of the crime was murder, not burglary.”

“Really?” Neva studied Skye, her expression hopeful. “Who do they suspect?”