Murder of a Bookstore Babe

“Unfortunately, everyone on their first list has an alibi.” Skye was careful to tell as much of the truth as she could without giving away the fact that they thought the intended victim was Risé. “They’ll start looking elsewhere now that those people have been cleared.”

“That’s good, then.” Neva nodded, seemingly satisfied, at least for now.

“I’m going to mingle to make sure Kayla’s friends are handling their grief okay and no one gets carried away.” Skye pushed the chair into its original position and got up. “I’ll see you later.”

As Skye moved around the floral display, a commotion at the entrance drew her attention. Standing just inside the room, arguing in loud whispers, were Xenia and Chase. Skye had thought it odd that neither Kayla’s boyfriend nor her BFF were there when she arrived, but now she wondered whether it hadn’t been for the best.

Skye moved toward them in time to hear Chase say to Xenia, “I told you not to show up here if you were going to dress like a freak.”

Chase was wearing a charcoal wool suit, gray shirt, and striped silk tie. He looked as if he had just stepped out of GQ. Xenia had on ripped tights, an oversize leather coat that dragged behind her like a train, and army boots. Then again, they were all black.

“Hi, Ms. D.” Xenia saw Skye before Chase did. “This moron thinks that the dead care about how you dress. Tell him he’s wrong.”

Not giving Skye a chance to answer, Chase said, “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” His voice cracked, and he blinked furiously. “Of course the dead don’t care, but you need to have some respect for Mr. and Mrs. O’Brien.” He appealed to Skye, “Right?”

Xenia didn’t wait for Skye to respond either. “Those hypocrites?” She tossed her hair, the scarlet stripe looking eerily like a vein of blood as it curled through the black tresses. “The only time they paid any attention to Kayla was when they needed her to babysit or wanted her to cook and clean.”

“That’s not true.” Chase’s handsome face was mottled with red. “They only wanted her to be sensible and act like a proper young lady.”

“Just leave me alone.” Xenia sniffed, then marched off, saying over her shoulder, “I refuse to star in your psychodrama.”

Chase turned to Skye. “Kayla was going to, you know.”

“Going to what?” Skye asked

“Be a proper young lady. She was going to quit film school and marry me. I told her my wife would never have to earn a living. I make plenty of money working at my dad’s real estate agency.”

“Oh?” Skye encouraged him to continue. Kayla hadn’t impressed Skye as the stay-at-home-wife type.

Chase stared blankly at the casket. “I should never have let her take that job. My salary would have supported us both.”

“I see.” Wow! Skye had really read Kayla wrong. She’d thought the girl was way more independent than that.

“Everyone said we were the perfect couple.” Chase nodded, as if Skye had agreed with him, then lumbered toward where Xenia had stopped to talk to a group of teenagers.

Instead of following him, Skye pondered what she had just heard. Who was right? Neva and Xenia, who were certain Kayla’s folks were neglectful and used her like an indentured servant? Or Chase, who thought Mr. and Mrs. O’Brien were employing good old-fashioned values—which was just fine with him?

The remaining hours crawled by, and Skye moved through the room chatting with as many attendees as she could. Everyone concurred with Neva’s assessment of Kayla. The girl had been well liked by all, extremely hardworking, and truly helpful to her friends. Those who had seen her films also agreed that she was enormously talented and would have been a famous director one day.

Feelings were more mixed about Kara. Most didn’t approve of the way she had treated her daughter, but they were somewhat understanding of the woman’s dilemma. When she had married Mick fifteen years ago, Kara had been a single mother of a four-year-old with no education or skills to support herself or her child. Mick had been a savior, and she was willing to do what he said.

In contrast, Mick was nearly unanimously thought to be a controlling jerk who ruled Kara with an iron fist, had no interest in Kayla, and had been happy she would be moving out completely in a month. Still, no one could think of any reason for him to kill his stepdaughter.

It was nearly seven thirty when Skye felt a wave of exhaustion hit her. She’d been on the go for more than twelve hours and had not eaten since noon. She needed a break and a candy bar. Making her way to a sofa situated off to the side of the row of folding chairs, she sat down, prepared to intervene if any of the remaining teenagers needed comforting. So far, although Kayla’s friends had been sad, none had become hysterical, but it took only one to set off all the rest.

Skye settled back, relieved to be off her feet, and fished a Kit Kat from her tote bag. She had spoken briefly with Simon, but he’d had no new information about Xavier, who had the night off.