Murder of a Small-Town Honey

'This whole thing has been quite a surprise for him. He hadn't heard from or seen Honey since she left town. I thought the guy was going to have a stroke when I told him who Mrs. Gumtree really was. And then to find out she had left him all her money—the poor old man is still in shock.'

Skye worded her next question carefully, not wanting to arouse his suspicions. 'Did Honey leave anything else to him?'

Chief Boyd looked puzzled. 'Like what?'

'You know, property, things like that.' Skye glanced at the top papers on his pile, but found nothing interesting.

'She owned a condo in Chicago, but besides that and her personal possessions, her estate is mainly cash and, of course, her life insurance policy.'

'How much do you figure the total inheritance will come to?' Skye picked up a pencil from the desktop and twirled it between her palms.

He flipped open a file. 'Because she was a TV star, she had an unusually large life insurance policy. It's worth a million dollars by itself. Add the condo and the cash and I'd say we're talking in the neighborhood of one point five mil­lion dollars.'

'That's a pretty nice neighborhood for Charlie to move into,' Skye said thoughtfully. 'Of course, a move into such a nice neighborhood usually comes with a pretty high price tag.'

In this case the price had been a young woman's life.

CHAPTER 11

Somewhere in the Night

That afternoon when Skye got home from the police sta­tion, her mother's car was in the driveway and she was washing the front windows of the house. With the tempera­ture continuing to hover in the nineties, May's face was an alarming shade of red, and sweat was dripping from the tip of her nose.

Skye turned her key in the locked door and entered the centrally air-conditioned cottage. She held the door open and looked questioningly at her mother. May gave the win­dow one more swipe, picked up her bottle of Windex, and went inside.

Skye headed for her bedroom. 'So, Mom, is the presi­dent of the United States coming to visit, or did you just have an uncontrollable urge to give yourself heatstroke?'

May didn't respond to Skye's sarcasm. Instead she stood in the doorway to Skye's bedroom and watched her change into blue chambray shorts and a plain white T-shirt. Slip­ping on a pair of white sandals, Skye walked past her mother into the great room and sat down in a camp chair.

'You really need to get some more furniture. Where would your dad sit if he was here?' May looked at the other camp chair with distaste.

Skye was not about to be distracted. 'So, you came to furnish my house as well as to clean it. Fine. Don't forget to scrub the grout around the tub, and I'd like a Queen Anne-style desk set.'

Rubbing the wooden arm of the chair with her rag, May paused before sitting. 'Vince needs your help.'

'Oh.' Skye recognized a trap when she heard one. 'Has he said he wants it, or is this all your idea? I got him a good lawyer, and I know he's not back in jail. I was just at the police station.'

May looked up sharply. 'What were you doing there?'

'Officer Quirk needed some information on one of the high school students, so I stopped after work to give it to him. Why shouldn't I be there?'

'You were always sweet on Wally, but he's out to put your brother in jail.'

'He didn't seem to be on a vendetta when I spoke to him a few minutes ago. I'm sure they're looking into other sus­pects too, like people she knew in Chicago.'

'Aha, you just talked to him. I thought you said you went to talk to Roy Quirk.' May stood up and attacked the inside windows.

Skye handed her mother the bottle of Windex. 'I did go to talk to Officer Quirk, but he was with the chief, and so I talked to them both.'

'When I was dispatching last night I looked through the Honey Adair file, and Vince is their only suspect. They aren't looking at anyone else.'

'How did you get a chance to see that file? Don't they keep stuff like that locked up?'

May smiled. 'I've changed a lot since I've been working at the P.D. The locks on the file cabinets are a piece of cake.'

'Then what do you need me for?' Skye asked, unnerved to discover her mother had a dark, criminal side.

'You need to find out who really killed her. People talk to you. At least they should after what we paid to send you to college.'

Skye narrowed her eyes as she studied her mother.

'Have you been watching Murder, She Wrote again? In real life the police solve crimes, amateurs don't.'

'The police think they've already solved the case. They're too busy gathering evidence against Vince to look at anyone else. We can't afford a private detective, even if I knew where to find one. As a psychologist, you know how to make people talk and you can tell if they're lying. Plus, I can help by getting police information. I know how to use the computer at work to find out lots of stuff.' May moved over to the wall mirror and began wiping vigor­ ously.

Skye considered what her mother had said. I'm amazed the way people assume that because 1 have a degree in psychology, I also have magical powers. Would I be back in Scumble River if I were that good? She closed her eyes and sighed. On the other hand, Mom has a point. If the police aren 't looking for anyone else and Vince remains their prime suspect, something has to be done. Why do I have this sinking feeling that I'm about to get into trouble again?

'Okay, Mom, I'll see what I can do. I'm not sure where to start, though.'

'You'll have to find out about Honey. Try to discover where she's been all these years and why someone would want her dead.' May's eyes searched the room for some­thing else to clean.

'Any idea where I should begin that little task?'

Apparently sarcasm was wasted on May. 'At the begin­ning. Go talk to Charlie. He knows more than he's saying.'

The only light on at the Up A Lazy River Motor Court was in Charlie's cabin. Even the parking lot lay in darkness. Skye glanced at her watch. It was a little past eight, not too late for a visit. Waiting on the step after ringing the door­bell, she remembered how, when she was growing up,

doors weren't locked in Scumble River and friends just walked in unannounced.

What was taking Charlie so long? The cabin was tiny, having only a bedroom, kitchenette, living room, and bath. She was beginning to get a bad feeling when a car turned into the parking lot, its lights momentarily blinding her.

With a sensation of relief, she saw Charlie get out of the car and heard him say, 'Thanks for the ride, Eldon. See you tomorrow.'

When Charlie spotted Skye standing on the step, he hur­ried toward her. 'Skye, honey, what are you doing waiting out here like a door-to-door salesman? Don't you remem­ber where I keep the key? You should've let yourself in.'

'That's okay. I just got here. When I saw the light, I thought you were home.'

Charlie frowned. 'I don't remember leaving a light on, but of course my memory's not what it used to be, and after these past few days ...'

'Uncle Charlie, I'm so sorry. I had no idea about Honey.'

Shrugging, Charlie unlocked the door and stood aside to let Skye enter first. She let out a gasp and stopped dead in her tracks. Charlie pushed in behind her and halted too. The cabin had been ransacked. All the cushions had been sliced open and stuffing was spilling out; the chairs were up­ended, their bottoms also slashed. Pictures were torn off the walls, their glass smashed and the photographs shredded into confetti. The carpet had been ripped up at the corners and dragged to the middle of the room.

Silently they moved to the kitchen. There the cupboard doors stood agape, dishes and glasses shattered on the floor, and food smeared on the counter. A window over the sink was open, and jelly footprints indicated that this was the way the person had entered and exited the cabin.