Murder of a Royal Pain

“You’re right,” Wally agreed. “It’s probably not a good idea for you to be alone until we figure this out. I should have thought of that Friday night after we found out about Gloria. How about if you move in with me?”

She froze. This was not the way she wanted the next step in their relationship to come about. Besides, her mother would kill her before Jackie could. Years ago, Skye had lived with her fiancé in New Orleans and gotten away with it, but Scumble River was a small town, and both she and Wally were public figures.

Wally broke into her thoughts. “You don’t have to decide right now. We’ll talk about it tonight. Are you still at school?”

“No. I’m at Charlie’s.”

“Good. Stay there. I’ll finish what I’m working on, swing by the motor court, and follow you out to your house so you can drop off your car; then we’ll go to Laurel. We both need a nice dinner away from town.”

“Fine.” Skye fought to calm down. None of this was Wally’s fault. “How long will you be?”

“Fifteen, twenty minutes, max.”

“Okay. See you then.” Skye hung up, not satisfied with Wally’s wait-and-see attitude. She wasn’t letting Jackie get away with Annette’s and Gloria’s deaths. And she wasn’t prepared to allow her own life to continue to be destroyed either.

Wait a second. Could that be Jackie’s motive? It sure seemed as if she wanted to ruin Skye’s life, not kill her. What would doing that accomplish? Revenge was the only reason she could think of. But revenge for what? Skye had never met the woman before—at least, not that she knew of.

Okay, if not payback, then what? Well, if Skye were fired, Jackie would have the office all to herself. Hmm. Was she onto something? Could Jackie not only want Skye gone from school, but gone from Scumble River as well? Did she think she could scare her away? But again, why would Jackie want that?

Skye took a deep breath. Speculation wasn’t getting her anywhere. She needed facts. Maybe Wally couldn’t do anything to obtain information, but she could.

It was only three thirty. Jackie had said that she was meeting with a parent at quarter to four, which meant she couldn’t possibly leave school for another forty-five minutes. Certainly that was enough time for Skye to have a look around her cabin, especially since Jackie was staying right there at the Up A Lazy River Motor Court. Skye wished she had her Taser with her, but she needed to seize the opportunity.

Recalling that Charlie had mentioned that Jackie was in the cabin directly across from the office, Skye grabbed the master key from the desk drawer and stepped outside. The parking lot was empty and the motor court appeared deserted. Most people who checked in arrived late in the evening, leaving the interstate only to grab some sleep before getting back on the road.

Skye took a pair of rubber gloves from the first-aid kit in her car, then made her way across the asphalt. She knocked on Jackie’s door, waited, and knocked again. When no one answered, she used the master key and slipped inside. The drapes were drawn, so she flicked on the overhead light.

Once her eyes adjusted, Skye blinked, not sure that what she was looking at was real. Several moments later she still couldn’t comprehend what she was seeing, but as her brain began to process it, she gasped.

Covering the walls were hundreds of pictures, and every one of them had Jackie’s face Photoshopped onto Skye’s body. Jackie must have been following her around for months and months, maybe as long as a year, snapping photographs with a telephoto lens. There were images of Skye at the grocery store, at school, at her parents’, out with Wally, driving the Bel Air.

Feeling violated and defiled, Skye turned to leave. Why would anyone do this? A shiver ran up her spine. How sick did someone have to be to try to become another person? How mentally ill did someone have to be to try to erase the essence of themselves?

Her hand on the doorknob, Skye paused. She couldn’t run away. This might be her only chance to prove Jackie had set the trap that killed Annette and poisoned the cookies that killed Gloria. Skye had to stay cool and not freak out. Taking a calming breath, she moved over to the dresser and snapped on the latex gloves.

In the bottom drawer, concealed inside a tampon box, she found IDs of every description. There were driver’s licenses in a half dozen names, all from different states, credit cards, Social Security cards, and an Illinois State Police identification card in the name Veronica Vail.

Veronica Vail. Why did that name seem familiar? Wait, wasn’t that the special agent who had turned up to help with the spa murder? The one who had mysteriously disappeared, leaving a wig and a theatrical makeup kit behind?

Skye flipped through the rest of the IDs and found one for Imogene Ingersoll. Skye remembered her, too, a contestant in the cooking contest Skye had participated in last spring. She’d bribed her way into the finalist position and been asking questions about Skye and her family.