Murder of a Royal Pain

“You are so not funny.” Skye blew out an exasperated breath. “Here’s my counteroffer. I really don’t want to be gossiped about, so we’re careful about being seen together, okay?”

“I can live with that.”

“If I touch you, you can touch me back, but you can’t initiate contact.”

“Sounds good.”

“We talk over any info before you publish it, and if it would mean that the killer might get away or not be convicted, you don’t put it in the paper until I say so.”

“Deal.” Kurt held out his hand.

Skye shook.

“See? I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist touching me.” Kurt’s look was teasing. “Now I get to touch you.”

“No.” Skye backed away, but there wasn’t very far she could go without getting out of the car.

“Yes.” Kurt leaned forward.

Shoot. He was going to kiss her. Right here in front of the church. Truth be told, she was a little curious. She hadn’t kissed that many men. There had been her high school boyfriend, the guy she dated in college, the one she met in the peace corps, her ex-fiancé, Simon, and Wally.

Each one had been better than the guy before him. Could Kurt top Wally? She closed her eyes. She could feel his breath on her face and she resigned herself to the inevitable. But instead of masculine lips pressed against hers, Skye felt a gust of wind. She shivered and her eyelids flew open. Kurt was standing outside the car.

He smiled. “I’ll take a rain check on my touch.” He leaned down. “In the meantime, why don’t you look into Hope Kennedy’s enemies, and I’ll see what I can discover about Nina Miles. We both should try to find out what skeletons Annette had in her closet.”

“Okay.” Kurt started to walk away, and Skye called after him, “Wait a minute. I locked my car before going into Mass. How did you get inside?”

“You drive an old ragtop.” He reached in his pocket and showed her a folded length of metal clothes hanger. “Piece of cake.”

Shoot! Shoot! Shoot! Skye pounded the steering wheel as she drove home. Why did she get the feeling she had sold her soul to the devil with the blue jeans on?

The remainder of Skye’s Sunday was a waste. When she’d talked to Wally before church, she’d forgotten to tell him about the gossip and get his permission to tell her aunt about his real reason for leaving town, so she wasn’t able to take care of that chore. And neither Hope Kennedy nor Evie Harrison was answering either the door or the phone. The only task she had accomplished was grocery shopping.

Eight o’clock Monday morning, Skye sat at her desk in the high school and stared bleary eyed at Travis Idell’s file. The psychiatrist was still not returning Skye’s calls, and Mrs. Idell was growing more and more enraged by the school’s lack of action. She was now threatening to bring the matter to due process, which had thrown Homer into a tizzy.

He had threatened and cajoled Skye, but she had stood firm, agreeing only to review the file once more. Now, as she looked over the paperwork in Travis’s folder for the fifth time, she was again amazed that a professional had allowed an assessment of such poor quality to leave his office. She’d seen some badly written reports in her time, but this one was a doozy.

Her favorite line was, Travis appears to have a slight case of dyslexia, and because of this the principle has suspended him from school on several occasions.

However, no matter how amusing she found the report, the bottom line was that there was nothing in it to support the idea that Travis had a learning disability. She had already explained to Homer that if everyone else on the PPS team agreed Travis qualified for service, the team could put him in special education. At that point, she would write a dissenting opinion, but her statement would not interfere with the placement.

She knew Homer would have grabbed at this chance to pacify the Idells if she hadn’t also pointed out that if, later on as an adult, Travis felt being placed in special ed had harmed him, he could come back and sue the district and the individuals who had signed off.

Her warning had made the principal think twice about taking the easy way out, which was when he had ordered Skye to reconsider her position. She had, and now she needed to tell Homer she hadn’t changed her mind.

Skye glanced at the clock. School had been in session for only ten minutes, which meant Homer was probably still sipping his first cup of coffee and playing Free Cell on his computer. Maybe he’d be in a decent mood.

She reached reluctantly for the phone. The next-to-last thing in the world she wanted was to suffer through a due-process hearing, but the very last thing was to wrongly place a student in special education.

She was dialing Homer’s extension when the PA burst into life and Homer’s voice blared from the speakers: “Teachers, please follow evacuation plan A. Repeat. Evacuation plan A. This is not a drill.”

CHAPTER 16

Escape