Murder of a Creped Suzette

Finally he grew bored with the game, abruptly changed direction, and zipped over to where everyone in the meeting was sitting. Before Skye could reach him, he ran up to Homer, raised his leg, and peed on the principal’s shiny black shoes.

Toby’s antics put a quick halt to the conference. Homer barely waited until everyone had fled before he laid into Skye. His tirade eventually wound down, ending with, “And I want a new pair of these exact same shoes on my desk by tomorrow morning or you’re fired.”

“Where—?”

“Franklin’s in Clay Center. Size ten double-E. They close at six.”

“Yes, sir. I’m so sorry.” Skye stared at the floor as she explained her predicament. Lifting her head, she said, “It won’t happen again. I . . .” She trailed off; Homer was no longer there. The only trace of him was his soaked, smelly shoes left in the middle of the table.

Having already deposited Toby in her car, Skye was walking back to her office to get her purse when the school’s music teacher, carrying a large box that obstructed her view, bumped into Skye in the hall. The impact caused the contents to spill all over the floor.

“Oops.” Noreen Iverson was in her late forties, with a smooth complexion and comfortable figure. “You must think I’m really clumsy.”

“Not at all.” Skye squatted to help the woman gather her belongings. “I drop stuff all the time.”

“I guess I’m a little distracted today.” Noreen’s cheeks turned red. “I heard some disturbing news this morning and I can’t get it out of my mind.”

“Oh?”

“About the poor girl who was found dead at the old Hutton dairy.” Noreen picked up pages of music and stuffed them into the carton.

“Yes.” Skye was thankful no one seemed to know that she was the one who had found the body.

“My niece is an EMT and she was called out there to take care of some woman who fainted,” Noreen explained. “She heard one of the officers say the dead girl was Suzette Neal.”

“Really?” Great! The news was out before the identification was official. She’d have to let Wally know. “The singer from Saturday night’s concert?”

“Yes.” Noreen straightened. “But I knew her when she was just a baby.”

“I saw from the flyer that she was from around here,” Skye said, hoping to encourage the woman to continue.

“Her father was my supervisor when I student taught here twenty-seven years ago.” Noreen’s hazel eyes softened. “He was such a sweet, handsome guy.”

“Did he work here long?” Skye nabbed another stray sheet of music and handed it over.

“Just that one year. His wife died very suddenly—a terrible accident—and he was a changed man after that.” Noreen hoisted the refilled carton into her arms, adding as she walked away, “In fact, when he left, they offered me his job and I’ve been here ever since.”

Well, that solved one mystery. Mr. Neal had been a teacher. When Skye got to her office, she pulled out the list of questions she’d made regarding Mrs. Neal’s death and made a quick note. Another thing to share with Wally when she talked to him this afternoon.

CHAPTER 11

“Mama He’s Crazy”

A few minutes later, when Skye slid into her car, Toby greeted her with a tail wag and a happy woof. For a second, she relaxed and stroked his soft white fur, but then the memory of Wally saying he wanted to talk to her about something personal intruded.

She had deliberately refused to think about what he’d said, and had even managed to stop herself from asking him about it when he’d called that morning. Now that she was on her way to meet him, there was no avoiding the panicky feeling in the pit of her stomach. If the news had been good, he would have told her right away, which meant it must be bad. Just how bad was the question.

When Skye arrived at the police station, the municipal parking lot it shared with the city hall and library was full again. Unless Dante and the music promoter were having another meeting, this late in the afternoon there should have been only four automobiles present: one belonging to the dispatcher, one to the officer on duty, one to the librarian, and one to the city clerk. So why was the tiny lot suddenly packed?

As she circled the small patch of asphalt looking for an empty spot, Skye noticed a white van with a huge antenna sticking up from the roof taking up two spaces. A few vehicles down, a similar van also hogged multiple slots, and another, a little way from that one, had parked over the painted lines as well. In front of the last van, the drummer and keyboard player from Flint James’s backup band were being interviewed by a reporter.

Hmm. Now Skye knew why, when she’d tried to call Wally a few minutes ago to let him know she was on her way, all the police lines had been busy, even his private number. The media had invaded Scumble River.