Murder of a Royal Pain

“No, no, and I didn’t stay because I didn’t want to have to deal with the cops.” Kurt relaxed against the seat back and rested his right ankle on his left knee. “There were enough people around to help you if you were hurt.”

“Why?”

“Why what?” His response seemed automatic.

“Why didn’t you want to deal with the police?”

“It’s no big deal.” Kurt examined the crease in his jeans. “Quirk and I just don’t see eye-to-eye.”

“About what?” Skye felt as if she were playing Twenty Questions and losing.

“Things going on in town.”

“Like the murder?”

“Like the murder.” Kurt’s warm hand closed over Skye’s. “I’ll bet he thought your almost getting run over just now was an accident.”

Skye nodded.

“What do you think?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I thought it might be related to Annette’s death, but then Quirk told me a couple of things that make me wonder.”

“Like what?”

“Like maybe it was someone who mistook the gas pedal for the brake.” Skye half turned to face the reporter. “You read about that in the paper all the time.”

“True.” Kurt ran his fingers through his thick blond hair. “But happening so soon after the murder . . . I don’t buy it as an accident. Maybe the murderer thinks you saw something and can identify him or her.”

“That’s an interesting theory.” An idea glimmered at the edge of Skye’s mind. “You know, Annette’s husband was at Mass today, and I heard that he was playing around on her. If he killed her, maybe he was the one who tried to run me down.” Skye frowned. “No, Linnea was with him. Surely he wouldn’t think a hit-and-run was an appropriate father-daughter activity.”

“No,” Kurt agreed, “but about ten minutes before you came out of the church, I saw Linnea get into a car with a group of friends.” Before Skye could respond, Kurt asked, “What else did Quirk say that made you think it was just an accident?”

“He said a lot of people knew Annette was dressed as a witch.”

“Oh.” Kurt thought for a half second, then said, “So what? A lot of people may have known, but all it takes is one who didn’t know.”

“That’s right,” Skye agreed. “I hadn’t thought of that. I’m sure people who were on time and already in their places didn’t know.”

“Right.” Kurt leaned back and put his tennis shoe–clad foot on the dashboard. “Quirk could still be barking up the wrong victim.”

“Great. Just when I thought I wouldn’t have to be scared anymore.” Skye shook her head. “After my little chat with Quirk, I know he’s not going to look into any other possibilities, which leaves Hope, Nina, and me dangling like worms on a hook. If the murderer wants any of us, all he has to do is snap us up.”

“If Quirk won’t investigate, we’ll have to.” Kurt turned to face Skye. “My boss says you’re the Scumble River Nancy Drew. Let’s use those talents.”

“I’m guessing the reason you’re so gung ho is that you’re hoping for an exclusive.”

“That’s one thing I’m hoping for.” Dimples appeared in Kurt’s cheeks. “A chance to spend more time with you is an added bonus.”

Skye felt a surge of attraction, and frowned at him. “Let’s keep this on a professional level.”

“Why?”

The single word sent a shiver down her spine. “Because I’m already seeing someone, as you very well know.”

“It doesn’t look as if you’re engaged.” He reached across her and captured her left hand, pretending to examine it closely. “Are you?” He kissed her wounded palm before releasing her hand.

“No, but that’s not the point.”

“My philosophy is, until you walk down that aisle and say ‘I do’ in front of a preacher, things can change.” His voice had taken on a velvety timbre, like a country singer crooning a sexy ballad.

She drew her brows together. With Wally out of town and Quirk acting like a jerk, she needed an ally who knew how to get people to open up and spill their secrets. Trixie was good, but she didn’t have Kurt’s training or the opportunities that being a reporter afforded him. From what Skye had read in his column, Kurt was a whiz at persuading Scumble Riverites to tell all.

“Look.” Kurt cut into her thoughts. “Flirting is harmless, and if it could develop into something more, don’t you want to know that before you find yourself married to the wrong guy?”

Skye reluctantly nodded. “But it won’t develop into something more.”

“Probably not, but at least we’ll have some fun.”

Skye chewed her thumbnail. Lives could be in danger. Maybe her own. “Okay.” She could handle Kurt. He was like an overgrown puppy, cute but harmless. “Here are the ground rules. One, we can’t be seen together—there’s already gossip. Two, no touching. And three, nothing in the paper until we nail the killer.”

“Fine.” Kurt’s blue eyes twinkled.“Here are my rules. One, I don’t care about gossip. Two, you can touch me anytime you want. And three, anything I find out, I print.”

Skye’s face was set in hard, tight lines. “Either we compromise or we don’t work together.”

“Compromise isn’t generally in my vocabulary, but I can compromise on that.”