Murder of a Small-Town Honey

Florist, from which Skye had received her first corsage; the Strike and Spare Bowling Alley, where she went on her first date; and Oakes Real Estate, from whom she rented her cottage. Mike Young's studio, the bank, and the dry cleaner were also situated on that modest stretch of road.

She sighed. Scumble River was so much the same as when she'd left, it was hard to remember she wasn't eigh­teen anymore.

Upon reaching home, Skye put a load of laundry in the machine and started to unpack a carton of books. She stopped to admire the built-in bookshelves lining the great room's outer walls between the sliding glass doors.

Working steadily, she stopped only to put wet clothes in the dryer, soiled clothes in the washer, or clean clothes in drawers and closets. She had lost track of the time when the

phone rang but glanced at the microwave's clock before she answered it. Its digital readout glowed 11:06 P.M., too late by Scumble River's standards for a social chat.

'Hello?'

There was no answer, and Skye was beginning to think she was the victim of an obscene call when she heard someone crying.

'Hello, who is this?'

Another pause, then finally a voice said, 'It's Mom. Hold on.'

Skye's heart stopped. If her mother was calling this late and crying, it could mean only one thing. Someone in the family had died.

After a few minutes, May continued, 'Skye, it's your brother.'

Her eyes began to tear, and she sank suddenly to the floor. 'Vince? What happened to Vince?'

'He's been arrested for the murder of that Gumtree woman.'

'What?'

'They have him at the police station right now. They were just bringing him in when I got to work. Wally wanted me to go home, but I said I'd go on and work my shift.' May's voice sounded more steady as she told the story.

'Does he have a lawyer?'

'No, there's no one here but Vince, Wally, and a few other officers.'

Skye's thoughts were coming fast and furious. 'Okay, Mom, do exactly as I say. I don't have time to argue or ex­plain. Put the phone down and go tell Vince to say ab­solutely nothing until I get there with an attorney. If they try to stop you from seeing him, push your way in. They certainly aren't going to risk hurting you. Make sure Vince understands not to say anything. Not one word. Put your hand over his mouth if you have to. Do it right now.'

The sound of the dial tone surprised her. Skye had been

sure she'd have to argue with her mother to get her to do anything that rude.

Now the problem was to find a good lawyer with experi­ence in criminal law. Skye flipped through her address book, trying to remember which of her sorority sisters had become the hotshot attorney in Chicago. When she'd joined the Peace Corps, she'd lost touch with most of her college friends, although she was always conscientious about keep­ing her address book up to date. Finally spotting the name, she punched the numbers into the phone so hard she broke her fingernail.

As the phone rang and rang, Skye chewed on the nail's jagged tip and chanted in her head, Be home. Come on, be home.

On the tenth ring the phone was picked up and a groggy voice answered, 'Yes?'

'Hi, this is Skye Denison, from Alpha Sigma Alpha. Is this Loretta Steiner?'

'Yes. Who did you say you were? Is this a sorority fund-raising drive?' the voice asked in a bewildered tone.

'No. Look, you were a senior the year I pledged. During second semester I lived two doors down from you in the house. My mom made those special thumbprint cookies everyone loved.' Skye hurried to explain before Loretta hung up the phone.

'Yeah, I remember you. You had the most striking green eyes I'd ever seen. What's up?'

'I'm sorry to bother you, but if memory serves, you be­came a lawyer and you practice criminal law. I think I've seen you in the Tn'fe?' Skye clutched the receiver.

Loretta answered cautiously, 'Yes, I'm an attorney and my practice does include criminal cases. Are you in trouble with the law?'

'No, not me, but the police have just arrested my brother for murder. Will you represent him? Can you come right now?' Skye's voice cracked.

'Where do you live again? Scrambled Eggs or some­thing quaint like that?'

'Scumble River. It's seventy-five miles south of Chicago, off of 1-55. Take the Scumble River exit and follow that route until you come to Coal Mine Road. Turn left. You'll go over some railroad tracks—Scumble River's version of a speed bump—and a bridge, then turn left again on Maryland Street. The police station is on the corner of Maryland and Kinsman.'

Loretta's tone became sober. 'Okay, it will take me about an hour and a half to get down to you. Are you at the police station?'

'No.'

'All right. Give me your number, the number at the po­lice station, and your cell phone. When we hang up, go im­mediately to the station and tell them you've retained me. Don't let your brother answer any questions.'

'I don't have a cell phone.' Skye slipped on her shoes.

'That's okay. Just give me the other numbers and get to the station as quick as you can.'

'Thank you. Thank you so much.' Stretching the cord as far as possible, Skye was able to grab her keys from the table in the foyer.

'Don't thank rne yet. I have two questions, then we both need to get going. What's your brother's name and did he do it?'

Skye took a deep breath. 'His name is Vince Denison and no, he did not do it.'

Scumble River's police department was housed in a two-story red-brick building bisected by a massive double-deep three-door garage.

Accessible from both streets, the police department oc­cupied half the main floor, with the jail and interrogation room on top. Offices of the city hall were on the other side

of the building, and the town library was on the second floor of that half.

When Skye arrived, shortly after midnight, the city hall/library part of the building was dark. Her mother's white Oldsmobile and her father's old Ford pickup were the only vehicles in the parking lot. To add to her feeling that she was the last person left alive on Earth, Skye saw an empty squad car in the open garage.

There was no one behind the counter when she walked through the frosted-glass door, and the phone was ringing. Standing on tiptoe, she reached over and felt for the lock-release button located under the counter's lip.

Upon foiling these elaborate security measures, Skye let herself in to the dispatch area. The telephone continued to ring.

'Mom?' Skye called.

Silence except for the ringing phone.

She tried again. 'Is anyone here? Should I answer the phone?'

Afraid it was Loretta trying to reach her, Skye picked up the receiver. 'Scumble River Police Department. May I help you?'

'May, is that you?' Mayor Clapp's distinguishing whine came through the handset.

'No, sir, it's her daughter. May's not feeling well at the moment,' Skye said. I'm sure Mom really is sick. I know I feel like throwing up.

'Uh, well, uh, you tell whoever's on duty that dog is back in my yard raising a ruckus. I want them to drop what they're doing and get over here right now. Do you hear me, girl?'

'Certainly, sir. I'll relay your message. Have a good night.'

Walking into the hall and to the bottom of a flight of stairs, Skye yelled as loud as she could, 'Mom, Dad, where are you?'

Chief Boyd came hurrying down the stairs. 'Boy, I'm glad to see you, Skye.'

She interrupted him. 'Why have you arrested my brother?'