Murder of a Small-Town Honey

'We'll pick you up at six, which would put us in Joliet around seven. If we eat at the Red Lobster near Louis Joliet Mall, we could catch the nine o'clock movie at the cin­ema.' Vince's voice became more animated.

'That sounds good. I guess I'll wear my black-and-white gingham shorts suit. Will that be all right? Or should I call Abby?' she teased.

Vince responded seriously, 'No, that sounds fine. Do you have white flats?'

'Sure, they're ballet-style flats with bows.'

'Great. What are you going to do with your hair?'

'Oh, I thought I'd wear it. Unless you think I should shave it off. What's going on here? I thought this was a ca­sual date.' She rubbed her throbbing temples.

'It is. I just want you to look nice. Mike hasn't seen you in a long time.'

'Is this about my weight?' Skye threw the damp cloth in the direction of the bathroom door.

'No, no, that's not it at all. Mike's a little conservative, and sometimes you dress a little wild,' Vince hurried to ex­plain.

'Are you kidding? I dress about as flashy as Marie Os­mond. How conservative is this guy?'

Vince ignored her question. 'Everything will be fine. We'll see you at six.'

Skye had a bad feeling about this date, but reassured herself by thinking, After all, it's just one date. It's only a few hours out of my life. Vince andAbby will be with us the whole time. And I do want to ask Mike some questions about Honey.

She rolled off the bed and retrieved the wet cloth from the floor, using it to mop up the puddles from the melted ice cubes. After disposing of it in the bathroom hamper, she slipped into her robe, which had been hanging on a hook on the back of the door.

Skye took a moment to admire it. Running her hands over the powder-blue damask cotton, she snuggled in the French terry lining. It had cost more than she made in a day, but she couldn't resist it when she'd spotted it at Mar­shall Field's.

She had developed a clothes addiction when she re­turned from her stint in the Peace Corps. After wearing nothing but denim shorts, jeans, and T-shirts for four years, she had gone on a shopping spree that rivaled Imelda Mar-cos's. She still liked nothing better than to shop until she dropped.

Skye took one look at her rumpled hair and pale skin in the bathroom mirror and switched on her electric curlers. While she was waiting for them to heat up, she washed her face and applied a generous dollop of moisturizer.

Allowing the lotion to soak in, she set her hair before applying her makeup. Skye employed a lot of cosmetics to appear as if she used none. First came the base. Next she used a concealer to cover the circles under her eyes. After a light dusting of translucent powder and some blush she was ready to work on her eyes.

Skye's eyes had always been her best feature. Their ef­fervescent color and large size drew admiring glances and comments wherever she went. The cream and taupe eye shadows, dark green eyeliner, and mascara were merely embellishments.

It was five minutes to six by the time she finished dress­ing. She was fastening her watch when the doorbell rang. Slipping on an onyx ring shaped like a cat's face, she walked to the front door.

Abby, Vince, and Mike were all standing on her porch. Mike was dressed in a conservatively cut navy suit. His light blue shirt matched his eyes, and his hair was cut as short as possible without edging into a crew cut. Belatedly, Skye realized that she should have had something ready to serve them.

Stepping to one side, she gestured them into the foyer. 'Please come in. I'm sorry the place isn't more furnished, but I'm still getting settled.'

Vince saved her. 'We really don't have time to stay. You know Abby, and this is my friend Mike Young.'

Mike held out his hand. 'Hi. I'm sure you don't remem­ber me, but I certainly remember you. I always thought Vince's little sister was going to be a beauty when she grew up.'

Having no answer to that statement, Skye smiled un-

comfortably and wondered if he was disappointed with the

reality.

Mike and Vince did most of the talking on the drive up. They thoroughly discussed the Cubs' latest season before moving on to the best way to work out at the gym. Abby was able to contribute an occasional comment on both sub­jects, but it sounded to Skye as if they were speaking Swahili.

Red Lobster was mobbed when they arrived. The lobby was full, and people were standing outside on the front walk, making it difficult to negotiate passage through the throng. Vince offered to fight his way to the front to find out how long a wait there would be.

The loudspeaker squawked, 'Martin, party of four.'

A group rose from one of the two benches outside the door. Skye was not able to see how it was accomplished, but miraculously she found herself seated between Mike and Abby.

Mike leaned back, stretching out his long legs, seem­ingly unaware of the dirty looks from the people standing in front of him. 'Ah, this is better. You comfortable, girls?'

At the word girls Skye shot Abby a look. A slight shrug of Abby's shoulders stopped Skye from pursuing the mat­ter.

'We're fine, Mike. Thanks for snagging the bench. Fve been on my feet all day.' Abby slipped off a sandal and rubbed her instep.

'Oh, anything special happen at school or just the usual disasters?' Skye turned slightly to look at Abby.

Before Abby could answer, Vince pushed his way back out the door and plopped himself down on the bench next to her. 'It's a madhouse in there. The hostess said it would be about forty-five minutes. You guys want to stay or try somewhere else?'

'It's Friday night. Everywhere will be crowded. Let's just stay here.' Skye looked at the others for agreement.

Mike reached across the women and lightly punched Vince in the arm. 'I told you we should have gone some­place where they take reservations.'

Vince muttered under his breath, 'You did not.'

Skye was surprised to hear Vince answer back. He usu­ally avoided confrontation. The silence became uncomfort­able as the men silently stared at each other.

It occurred to Skye that this might be the time to ask about Honey and Mike's past relationship. She didn't want the conversation to end like the one with Lloyd had earlier, so she chose her words carefully. 'Mike, you and Vince go way back, huh?'

'Yep, we were in kindergarten together.' Mike sat back and extended his arm across the back of the bench.

Vince added, 'Yeah, he was the one who borrowed the class hamster, and I was the one who got into trouble for it.'

Wow, two confrontations in a row. This isn't like the Vince I know. Maybe he changed while I was gone. Skye looked at her brother thoughtfully

'Vince, why bring up ancient history?' Mike replied. 'Remember Matthew, chapter six, verse twelve: 'Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.''

Skye frowned. 'I thought that was from the Lord's Prayer.'

'You Catholics do not know your Bible.'

Not wanting to get sidetracked from her original line of questioning, Skye asked, 'Were you two friends throughout school?'

'Yeah, I guess. More so in high school, when we were both on the basketball team,' Vince answered.

'That must have been tough. If it was anything like when I was in school, all the popular girls went out with the basketball team. I remember my junior year two of our

stars fought the whole season over one girl. They never talked except on the court.'

Mike laughed. 'We never seemed to have the same taste in girls. Vince always liked the ice queens and I preferred the sex kittens.'

'I recall one girl you both liked,' Abby said softly.

Skye could have kissed her. This was exactly where she wanted the conversation to go. Disregarding the dirty looks that both Vince and Mike shot at Abby, Skye asked, 'Would that have been Honey Adair? I understand