Murder of a Royal Pain

He reached over, stroking her inner arm from wrist to elbow. “Are you finished?” His dark brown eyes held both desire and tenderness.

She nodded. Little jolts of electricity raced through her from his touch.

“Shall we go home?”

She tried to say yes, but ended up nodding, her throat too dry to speak. His question had been a passionate challenge—hard to resist.

He signaled their server and paid the bill, leaving a generous tip.

Skye’s knees buckled as she stood, and she steadied herself by taking Wally’s hand. He led her through the labyrinth of tables, the noise drowning out the thudding of her heart. They had been together for nearly a year, and his magnetism still captivated her.

They were almost through the main dining area when a whoop of laughter caught Skye’s attention. She turned toward the sound and stiffened. Sitting in a dark corner at a table for two were Simon and Jackie. Skye couldn’t see Simon’s face, which was in a shadow, but Jackie’s was animated and glowing with happiness.

Skye jerked her gaze away, taking a hasty step forward and silently urging Wally to speed up, and he quickened his steps.

As they drove back to Scumble River, Skye convinced herself that what she felt wasn’t jealousy, just astonishment. She had rushed Wally out of Merichka’s because she was eager to be in his arms, not because she didn’t want to see Simon with another woman.

Still, how had Jackie managed to meet Simon, and wasn’t it strange that Simon and Jackie had picked the same movie and restaurant that Skye and Wally had chosen? What were the odds of that happening? In a small town like Scumble River—population thirty-three hundred—it could be a coincidence, but not here in the much larger city of Crest Hill. Was Simon following her?

The next week melted away like a snowman in a sauna. It wasn’t merely that Skye was busy, although she was, but that she also seemed to lose chunks of time staring into space and feeling discontented. She couldn’t pinpoint what was bothering her, but plainly something was. At first she had blamed it on PMS, but her moodiness had lasted too long to be caused by monthly hormone fluctuations.

Driving to school on Monday morning, Skye vowed to be more focused and optimistic. She had a great life, and she’d better stop moping around before she messed it up. She needed to quit allowing things she couldn’t control to upset her, and to seek out her friends more, rather than locking herself away in her office or house.

Unfortunately, her resolution didn’t last much past the high school’s front door, where Homer was waiting for her. He pounced on her like a crocodile on a lion cub, chomping through her pledge to be upbeat with a single bite.

Taking her arm, he commanded, “We need to resolve this Travis Idell mess. His mother is camped out at the superintendant’s office, and Dr. Wraige is not happy.”

“The intake conference is set up for Thursday.” A meeting Skye was dreading.

She had read the reports that Mrs. Idell had brought her, and, as Travis’s mother had claimed, the private psychiatrist who had examined the teen had diagnosed him with a learning disability. But the doctor hadn’t provided the results of his assessments, and Skye couldn’t determine if he had even done any psychological evaluations—psychiatrists often didn’t. He also hadn’t returned Skye’s phone calls. To make matters worse, when she’d examined the boy’s school records, none of the group tests or any other information in his file supported the doctor’s conclusion.

“She wants to meet today.” Homer mopped his head with a bright red handkerchief. “She’ll be here for a Promfest meeting after school, and wants to meet right before that. She says two would be convenient.”

“Maybe for her.” Skye plucked her calendar out of her tote bag and flipped it open to October fourth. “I have an appointment at the grade school with the kindergarten teachers at one. I don’t think I can make it back here by two.”

“You can talk with teachers anytime.” Homer waved away her objection, turned, and walked away, hollering over his shoulder, “Dr. Wraige wants us to humor this woman and get her off his back.”

The rest of the day passed as it had begun—badly—and Skye had a throbbing headache by the time she arrived for the Idell meeting. As she took her seat, she glanced around the table, noting that only Mrs. Idell made eye contact, and her glare intensified Skye’s pain. None of the staff, which included the principal, nurse, social worker, special education teacher, and English chairperson, looked up from the papers they were all studying.

Homer cleared his throat and said, “Let’s hear your information, Ms. Denison.”

Mrs. Idell nodded as Skye summarized what the psychiatrist had written, and she smiled when Skye noted that on the group ability test Travis had scored in the superior range. On the group achievement tests, he was above grade level.