"Murder of a Sweet Old Lady" - читать интересную книгу автора (Swanson Denise)

CHAPTER 9

Little Boy Blue, Go Blow Your Horn

Skye had worked the rest of the day at the elementary school finishing up odds and ends. Now she sat in her borrowed Buick and considered her life. She couldn’t go to her cottage. She had called around and the fastest anyone would agree to come and fix the windows was in two weeks.

She still hadn’t gotten the insurance check so she couldn’t afford to buy a car. And now it looked like she might lose her job.

The superintendent’s wanting her to change her test results was so similar to the situation that had gotten her fired from her last school that she wondered if she had missed the day in graduate school when the professor told the class it was okay to falsify records if it meant keeping your job. In both cases her superior wanted her to lie in order to appease someone with power and money.

In New Orleans, the coordinator of special education had ordered her to withdraw her allegation of child abuse. Skye had refused to retract her report, even after the little girl was pressured into saying she had made the whole event up.

Could she go through that again? If she got fired this time, she’d never find another job as a school psychologist. Skye’s thoughts grew darker and she sank farther down in the seat, her chin resting on her chest. All those years of education would go down the tubes and she’d be left with nothing but her student loans to repay.

Squealing brakes and a slamming car door roused her from her rumination. Her heart started pounding faster when she heard the slap of leather soles on asphalt. Was someone else coming to harass her? Straightening from her slumped position, she was just in time to see Simon appear outside her windshield. He crossed his arms and looked down at her.

Skye opened the passenger door and motioned him inside.

“Have you been avoiding me?” Simon raised an eyebrow.

“No. My life just sort of got out of hand.”

“That seems to happen to you a lot.” His voice was steely.

She twitched, feeling that their relationship was another aspect of her life that was slipping out of her control. “Shoot. I’ve been meaning to call you.” It was good to see him, although he was clearly irritated with her. Even angry, he always seemed so calm, so together. She had always been attracted to sophisticated men. “Sorry.”

While Skye told him about being kidnapped by her cousins, the new set of crazy parents, and her broken windows, Simon put his arm around her and hugged her wordlessly. She deliberately left out the superintendent’s ultimatum, afraid to hear Simon’s advice.

“You’ve had a tough week.”

“Yes, I have. Before I forget, I wanted to thank you for the balloon bouquet.”

“I didn’t send you balloons. What are talking about?”

She shrugged and explained, concluding with, “I wonder who sent them.” I’ll have to call around and find out.

Simon’s eyes hardened, but he remained silent.

After a few seconds of wallowing in the comfort of his arms, Skye pulled away. Simon was such a take-charge kind of guy that she feared he would take over and “fix” her life if she showed the slightest indication of allowing that to happen. “Everything’s fine now. I was just a little shaken. Sorry to worry you.”

He took her face in his hands and leaned forward until their lips were touching. “When all this is settled, we need to have a serious talk.” He kissed her lightly and sat back.

Skye tried to keep her expression noncommittal as her thoughts raced. I can’t think about that right now.

Simon glanced at his Rolex and reached for the door handle. “Sorry to run off on you, but I’ve got a wake at four, and it takes at least half an hour to get everything set.”

“Sure, I understand. By the way, I’m staying with my parents until my windows are fixed, so call me there. I do plan on being at work tomorrow, since it’s the last day and I hate to miss the awards assembly. One of the kids I see for counseling won the essay contest.” Skye craned her neck to look up at him.

“I forgot to tell you why I was looking for you in the first place.” Simon squatted beside the open doorway, took her hands, and lowered his voice. “We got the results of your grandmother’s autopsy. She was poisoned.” He offered her the snowy white handkerchief from the breast pocket of his gray suit.

Skye waved it off. She wasn’t going to cry, even though she felt a catch in her throat and was saddened that someone had shortened a life that was already starting to wane. After a few moments of silence, she took a deep breath and asked, “How about Grandma’s housekeeper? It was her in the well, right?”

“Yes, it was her. We don’t have results of her autopsy back yet, probably tomorrow.”

“Do you anticipate any other cause of death?”

“No, it was probably the same poison that killed your grandmother.” A line formed between Simon’s brows. “The chief told me to share this information with you, but I can’t say I approve. It’s his investigation; still I don’t think he should be spreading evidence around. It’s hard enough to keep a secret in Scumble River.”

“Maybe the chief realizes that I can help in finding out what happened to my grandmother.” Skye shook off Simon’s hands, remembering how she disliked his arrogance, his belief that he was always right. “And since ninety-nine percent of my job requires confidentiality, Wally probably trusts me enough to know I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

Simon raised an eyebrow. “There was a pan of brownies wedged in the well alongside Mrs. Jankowski. That’s apparently how the poison was administered. And the stomach contents of your grandmother contained brownies.”

“What kind of poison was it?” Skye asked.

“We don’t know yet.”

“I guess it doesn’t matter. Dead is dead.”

May and Jed were sitting on lawn chairs in front of the open garage when Skye drove down the gravel lane. Their house, a red brick ranch, was situated on an acre of lawn that looked like the plush fur of a green stuffed animal. Flowers lined the sidewalks and edged the buildings. Perfectly trimmed evergreens protected three sides of their lot.

A family of plaster deer stood guard near the edge of the drive, and a concrete goose dressed in a graduation cap and gown graced the back steps. Skye shook her head, wishing she could persuade her mother to get rid of the goose, or at least stop dressing it up.

Skye yelled a greeting to her parents as she slid out of the car and headed inside. She showered and changed into blue denim shorts and an orange University of Illinois T-shirt. A quick check showed Bingo asleep on Skye’s bed. Full food and water bowls were on the floor and his litter box was clean. Her mother might not like indoor animals, but she was sure taking good care of this one.

Skye grabbed a can of Diet Coke from the fridge and slid her feet into sandals, then joined her parents outside.

Not surprisingly, May spoke first. “So what was so important that you had to go into work?”

Skye contemplated the issue of confidentiality before speaking. “I’m not sure how much I can tell you. There’s a youngster I evaluated and did not find learning disabled. If he had been diagnosed with an LD handicap he would get certain help in taking the college entrance exams, which would probably raise his scores. His father is pressuring the superintendent to make me change my mind and call him LD.”

“And if you don’t?” May asked.

“Dr. Wraige never said, but I had a feeling I would be fired.” Skye slumped against the side of the garage. Just saying the word made her feel weak.

“I think I’ll invite Charlie to dinner tonight.” May hopped up from her chair.

“That wouldn’t be because he’s president of the school board, would it?”

May shrugged. “Of course not. It’s just been a while since he’s been over and since you’re here, I thought it would be nice for him to get a chance to visit with his goddaughter.”

“Thanks, Mom, but Uncle Charlie has done enough by helping me get this job in the first place. I’ll work this one out on my own.” Skye leaned down to scratch a mosquito bite.

“Okay, but call him if things get rough.” May continued into the house, talking over her shoulder. “I’ve got to check on dinner.”

Jed took a swallow from his can of beer and stared off at the fields. “I hired Warner Post to fix your windows. He said they’ll have it done by Sunday.”

“But I already called around. Everyone told me it would be two weeks before they could even start. I hired someone else.”

Jed crossed his arms. “They’ll be fixed before those other guys get around to it.”

“Dad, you don’t have to do stuff like this. I can take care of it myself.”

“It’s better to hire people we know.”

Skye took her mother’s vacant seat, leaned back, and contemplated the clouds. Finally she said, “Thanks. But from now on let me handle stuff like this myself. I’ll ask for help if I need to.”

Jed adjusted his cap. “I’ll go out tomorrow and make sure they’re working.”

She counted to ten, all the while reminding herself how much her parents loved her. “Thanks, Dad. I’ve got to go into school tomorrow since it’s the last day.” Skye sipped her soda. “I’d better go give Mom a hand with dinner.” Skye headed toward the door.

May was peering into the oven when Skye entered the kitchen. The smell of roasting beef made her mouth water, and reminded her that she had eaten only a few crackers and cheese for lunch.

She leaned against the counter. “Mom, have you spoken to Chief Boyd lately?”

“I’m working midnights this week so he talked to me this morning when he came in at seven. I know Grandma was poisoned.”

“Did he tell you about the pan of brownies?” Skye reached to get plates from the cabinet.

“Yes. He’s going to have everyone in the family back in for questioning.” May’s expression didn’t give away her feelings. “He also said I could go in and clean up the mess from the search.”

“Want me to help?”

“No, I’ll do it tomorrow morning when you’re at school.”

They were silent as Skye set the table and May stirred a pot on the stove.

Skye finally said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to be right.”

May put down the wooden spoon and wrapped her arms around Skye. “It’s okay. Bad as it may be, I want to know who murdered my mother.” She held Skye away from her and looked into her eyes. “But the others probably won’t feel that way.”

“Especially the one who killed her.”

“Maybe it wasn’t one of the family.” May turned back to her cooking.

“Maybe. Do you know anything about those survivalists who were bugging Grandma?” Skye drummed her fingers on the countertop.

“Not really. We’ve had a lot of complaints about them at the police station, but we haven’t been able to catch them in the act or get any evidence against them.” May narrowed her eyes. “Why? Do you think they may have had something to do with Mom’s death?”

“I don’t know, but I’m going to talk to the chief after school tomorrow and make sure he investigates them.”

“I could talk to Wally.”

“No, I need to ask him about other stuff too.” Skye didn’t want to admit that she wanted to find out who in the family had an alibi and who didn’t.

“Just remember he’s a married man,” May muttered.

“For crying out loud. I was fifteen when I had that crush on him. It’s been sixteen years. Give it a rest.”

“I don’t like the way you two look at each other.” May shook her head. “Tell Dad to come in. Supper’s almost ready.”

Skye was more than willing to change the subject. “What are we having?”

“Stuffed round steak, green bean casserole, salad, and corn muffins.” Steam billowed out of the oven door as May removed the roasting pan.

When Skye got back from calling her father, May was ready to slice the meat. She had placed it on a wooden cutting board and held a huge carving knife. Golden stuffing oozed from each portion as she set it aside and went on to the next. The smell of sage mixed with the aroma of roast beef.

While Jed washed up in the half bath off the utility room, Skye set various bowls and platters on the table. May poured iced tea for Skye and herself. Jed brought his can of Miller Lite with him.

After the food was passed to everyone and they had started to eat, Jed said, “Have you been out by the old Leofanti farm lately?”

Skye wondered if Jed had heard about the twins kidnapping her. “Yes, I took a ride out there yesterday. Why?”

“How about you, Ma?” Jed helped himself to another muffin.

“No. Can’t say as I have. Why?” May reached for her glass.

“The Barillos sold ninety acres to a housing developer.” When the women didn’t respond, he elaborated: “It shares an eastern boundary with the Leofanti land.”

“Shit.” Skye set her fork down.

May gave her a stern look. “I won’t have language like that in here, young lady.”

“Sorry, Mom.” Skye took a sip of tea. “Does that mean that whole area has been zoned for housing now?”

“Probably only the Barillo farm, but it makes it a whole lot easier now to get the zoning changed on the neighboring land too.” Jed finished his meal and laid his silver-ware across his empty plate.

May dashed from the table and returned with a lemon meringue pie. She sliced it and slid the wedges onto dessert plates. Adding forks, she passed them to Jed and Skye.

Skye forced herself to take a few bites of the pie, not wanting to hurt May’s feelings, but her appetite was ruined. Ninety acres to a housing developer, at nearly one house per acre, meant more people trying to use roads that weren’t designed for such numbers, more kids in an already crowded school system, and worst of all, less land being used for farming.

After he had eaten his pie, Jed stood and headed toward the back door. He and May had their usual argument as to what part of the leftovers Chocolate, their Labrador retriever, was entitled to consume; then Jed said, “Can you believe a hundred new families moving in almost next door?”

“The last day of school.” Skye felt the magic in those words as she repeated them to herself.

Ten weeks of summer vacation stretched ahead of her without deadlines, meetings, or alarm clocks. Refreshed from her morning swim, she whistled as she sat in her office at the junior high, cleaning out her file cabinet.

The satisfying act of shredding paper was interrupted by the PA. “Ms. Denison, please report to the office, Ms. Denison.”

Sighing, Skye stopped what she was doing and made her way to the front of the building.

Ursula motioned Skye into the principal’s office.

Skye’s heart raced when she found her Aunt Mona sitting across from Neva Llewellyn. “Aunt Mona, did something happen to Mom?”

“No. I’m here on school business.” Her impersonal blue eyes raked Skye.

“Oh.” Skye felt such relief she was almost giddy. She sat next to her aunt and faced the principal. “What’s up?”

Neva shook her head slightly and gestured for Mona to answer.

Mona turned to Skye. “It’s about the ceremony this morning. I’m chairwoman of the awards committee and I’ve just been going over the list of winning students with my delegation. One of the mothers recognized the name of the author of the prize-winning essay, and told me this boy has barely made it through junior high. So I had Ursula run off a copy of his discipline record. There were so many detentions it took the computer ten minutes to print them all up.”

“I see.” Skye searched Neva’s face for a clue as to why she was being involved. Actually, the secretary should not have given her aunt that information without a signed release of records from the child’s parents.

Neva started to answer, “It turns out this boy is someone you see for counseling and we-”

Mona interrupted. “So we’ve decided to go with the second-place entry instead. It is written by a lovely girl who has never caused a moment’s trouble.”

Neva refused to meet Skye’s eyes. “Since the boy was already notified, we thought it might be better if you told him he won’t be getting the award after all. We’re sure you can put it to him gently and make him see it’s for the best.”

“Who are we talking about?” Skye stalled.

“Justin Boward.” Mona’s lips twisted as if she tasted something putrid.

“The eighth-grade English teacher was most impressed with his writing,” Neva added. “Although his topic was somewhat controversial.”

“Exactly. Neal would be appalled if I allowed a pro-choice essay to win a prize. After all, he is the head of the Knights of Columbus.” Mona straightened a pleat in her white silk skirt. “It is inappropriate for someone like this boy to triumph. People would think that we approved of his type of good-for-nothing behavior.”

Skye picked her words carefully, fully intending to maintain the confidentiality of her sessions with Justin. “I’ve worked with Justin all year. He’s a youngster who, although very smart, refuses to put any effort into doing well at school. As you know, he is passing eighth grade by the thinnest of margins.”

“Exactly.” Mona smiled meanly.

“There are a lot of interpersonal and emotional reasons for his behavior, which I can’t share with you, but I’ve made some progress with him. I discovered that he loves to read, as long as it isn’t a class assignment, and that he has a talent for writing. With my encouragement he was motivated to enter the contest.”

Mona said, “A prize like this should go to a serious student who has put forth effort all year. Not someone who rattles off a paper at the last minute.”

“If you take this prize away from him after you’ve already told him he won, you will be reinforcing every negative thing he already believes about authority figures.” Skye looked from her aunt to the principal. “You will undo an entire year’s worth of therapy.”

Mona shrugged and patted Skye on the knee. “Quite frankly, Skye, I don’t much believe that mumbo jumbo. Neal says it’s more like the work of the devil than of Jesus.”

“How can he say that? Even the church offers counseling.” Skye squared her shoulders and clenched the arms of her chair.

“Well, that’s completely different.” Mona crossed her arms and sat back.

“I’ll take care of this from here, Mona,” Neva said. “Perhaps you’d give us a few minutes alone?”

Mona picked up her purse and walked toward the door. “Then I’ll see you in the gym.”

As soon as Mona left, Skye shot out of her chair and leaned on Neva’s desk. “Why do people who know the least know it the loudest? And why are you letting her get away with this?”

Neva stood. “That was getting us nowhere. Skye, the decision has been made. Justin Boward is not getting the award.” When Skye tried to interrupt, Neva raised her hand, palm out. “There are too many people in Scumble River who feel as your aunt does, and the school district is planning a referendum in the near future. We can’t afford to offend such a vocal part of our voters.”

“I won’t be the one to tell him.”

“That’s fine with me. I have no problem telling Justin. But is your refusal to tell him in his best interest or because you’re in a snit?” Neva asked quietly.

Skye’s reason fought with her emotions. “Okay, I’ll tell him, but nothing I can say is going to make up to him for this betrayal.”

Before leaving the office, Skye asked that Justin be paged and told to report to Ms. Denison. They met at her doorway. She noted that instead of his usual T-shirt and baggy shorts, he wore a white shirt and tie, with black dress pants.

His mood was different too. He stood tall and looked her in the eye, speaking without being prompted to do so. “What’s up, Ms. Denison? I can’t stay long today. The awards’ ceremony starts in a few minutes. Can you come and watch me get my trophy?”

Skye closed her eyes briefly and wondered what she was going to say. They hadn’t covered a situation like this in graduate school.

“Ah, Ms. Denison, are you okay?”

How could she destroy this kid just because some committee felt he wasn’t “good enough”? He had come so far. When she had first started to see him they had gone whole forty-minute sessions exchanging fewer than ten words apiece. He never made eye contact and was failing all his classes.

She knew now that whatever she said and however she said it, her words were going to destroy Justin’s emerging faith in adults. Skye wished she had more experience. She had no idea how to minimize this kind of damage.

Finally, she took a deep breath and spoke. “You really like Star Trek, don’t you? You watch all the reruns, right?”

He nodded, looking confused.

“Do you always think that the captain does the right thing, makes the right decision?”

Justin looked at her strangely. “No, not always, but usually.”

“If you were a member of the Star Trek crew, would you go against the captain when he or she gave an order you thought was wrong?”

After a long pause, he shook his head. “No, that would be mutiny. But I would enter a protest into my log.”

“Well, I’m sort of in that position now. Mrs. Llewellyn has ordered me to tell you something I don’t agree with, and I don’t think she agrees with it either, but her boss has ordered her to do it.” Skye leaned forward and put her hand over his as it lay on the table. “Justin, I’m sorry to have to say that you won’t be getting the award for best essay after all.”

Justin jerked his hand away and scrunched up his face. “Why? What happened?”

“They decided to give the prize to the second-place winner. They thought, even though you’re a great writer, hers was better when all things were considered.” Skye didn’t want to tell him he was considered unworthy, but she was also trying not to lie.

His shoulders slumped and he turned to leave. “It figures. The whole thing was bogus anyway. I knew I wasn’t good enough to win.”

Skye got up and joined him at the door. “That’s not true, Justin. You are a great writer and I can’t explain this. But just remember, even the captains on Star Trek occasionally make mistakes. And this is one of those times.”

“Can I go now?” He refused to look at her.

“Are you okay?”

He nodded, once.

“I’m really sorry. Don’t let this ruin your summer.”

Justin shrugged. He was back in nonverbal mode. All those months of therapy had been lost.

“I’ll see you next year in high school.”

Another shrug and he was gone.

Skye sat down at her desk and reached for the phone. She needed to notify Justin’s parents, so they’d be prepared when he arrived home. When she got their answering machine it dawned on her that they were probably already at the school for the awards ceremony.

Great. She’d have to find them before the program began. How could Neva and Mona do this to a family? Her hand clenched around the ceramic jar she had been fingering. It had the word MIRACLES printed across the front. She had purchased it when she finished college. Suddenly she snatched it off her desk and hurled it at the wall. As she watched the jar explode into tiny fragments she smiled grimly. There were no miracles in this job.