Murder of a Royal Pain

“Okay.” Skye leaned forward, placing her elbows on the desktop and folding her hands. “First of all, Jackie has been in Scumble River before—twice. She was here about a year ago during the spa murder. She called herself Veronica Vail, and claimed to be a state police officer. Then, in the spring, she pretended to be Imogene Ingersoll, a contestant in the cooking contest.”

“Why, Ms. D?” Justin edged his way into the room and settled cross-legged on top of the testing table—the one Skye had retrieved after Jackie had thrown it out.

“She was studying me and my life. Those previous times she was just an observer, trying to figure out the best way to get rid of me and take my place. Once she decided on a plan, it took her a while to steal her social worker identity. She had to get the real Jacqueline Jennings’s birth certificate, then use it to get her graduate school diploma, which she then parlayed into the school social worker certificate.”

Before anyone could respond, Homer pushed his way in. “What in the hell is going on around here?”

“I have no idea.” Skye wondered how many more people would try to crowd into her tiny office.

Homer claimed one of Jackie’s visitors’ chairs and turned it to face Skye. “Boyd called me at midnight and gave me some half-assed story about Jackie’s not being a real social worker and trying to kill you. I thought he was drunk, but I guess it must be true, because the superintendent is running around like a chicken with its head cut off, trying to find someone else to blame for hiring her.”

“Yeah.” A baritone voice boomed from the doorway. “And guess who he’s got his beady little eyes on?” Charlie stomped in and took the last chair.

Skye looked around the room. “It’s really no one’s fault, or maybe it’s everyone’s fault.” Her office was beginning to look like the inside of a subway car during rush hour. She half expected people to start popping out of the desk drawers. “Dr. Wraige should have checked Jackie’s references and credentials. Homer and the other principals should have been more suspicious that she was always Johnny-on-the-spot, and I should have trusted my instincts that there was something off about her.”

“I didn’t hear everything you said to Boyd after we went back to the police station yesterday,” Simon said. “But I gather Jackie was responsible for all of the unfortunate events that have happened to you and the schools during the past couple of months?”

“Yes. She confessed everything to Wally before she went into surgery last night at the hospital. He said she thought she was dying.”

“What did she own up to?” May finished filling one carton with things from Jackie’s desk and started on another.

“Let’s see.” Skye closed her eyes and tried to put Jackie’s actions in order. “The first thing was slashing my tire and leaving me that note to make me think Mrs. Idell had done it. Maybe she was retaliating because I yelled at her for changing the locks on our office and taking my chair.”

“How about what happened to you at the haunted house?” Justin asked.

“Yes. She tried to scare me into quitting A Ghoul’s Night Out by leaving the bloody ax for me to find and blocking the bathroom door so I couldn’t escape. She also strung up the rope, hoping I’d injure myself and have to drop out, maybe even leave town.”

“She used me to try to scare you, too. Didn’t she?” Justin said, his expression guilty. “By having me tell you the story about the American Legion hall being haunted.”

“Yes, but there was no way for you to know that,” Skye reassured him. “The weird thing is, she said she wasn’t the one I heard crying. No one else was in the bathroom, so maybe I just imagined that part.”

“Or it was the ghost.” Justin grinned.

Everyone ignored him.

May said, “So Annette’s death was an accident.”

“Yes.” Skye’s expression was grim. “A series of unfortunate coincidences.” She sighed heavily. “Jackie was also the one who tried to run me over using Dr. Paine’s car—she claimed she was only trying to scare me into leaving town. But when those attempts didn’t work, she started poisoning my cookies, trying to make me so sick that I’d have to go on disability and be stuck at home.” Skye’s voice quavered, and she blinked back tears. “Gloria’s death was another accident.”

“I bet she planted the chemical bombs here at the high school, too,” Trixie exclaimed.

“Right you are. She wanted the principals to love her. She needed to be seen as the hero,” Skye clarified. “She was the one who steered the girls at the junior high to the Internet site that said getting pregnant would be cool, as well. My guess is she’s the one who changed the meeting time in order to get me into trouble. And I doubt she speaks Russian. We’ll have to reevaluate that poor boy.”

“What I don’t understand is why.” Simon wrinkled his brow. “Why did she do all that? It doesn’t make any sense.”