Murder of a Small-Town Honey

nod­ded. 'Why did the payments go up so much the last month? And who are the others?'

Skye retrieved two glasses from the cupboard. She filled them with ice and, taking the can from Simon's hand, split the contents between the tumblers. After a healthy swallow she took a clean sheet of paper from the pad and wrote the alphabet. On top of those letters she wrote it backward.

She put her pen tip on the bottom E. 'If Vince Denison equals EW, then the letter on top of this V should be an E and the D's letter should be W, which they are. Who else on my list of suspects has a V or a D in their name?'

'Darleen Boyd,' Simon said after thinking briefly.

'Right, and in this code B equals Y, so WY is Darleen. Using the same logic, OH is Lloyd Stark and NB is Mike Young,' Skye finished with a flourish.

Simon ran his long fingers up and down his glass of soda. 'There's only one thing,' he said hesitatingly. 'This makes Vince look even more guilty. He was paying more than anyone else, and he was supposed to see her the day of the parade.'

'I don't care. We are operating on the premise he is in­nocent. If you can't agree with that, you should leave now.'

For a few minutes Simon silently made interconnecting water rings on the table's white tile top. He sighed. 'I can live with that for now, but if we find insurmountable evi­dence against him, I'll have to turn it over to the police.'

'You won't do it without telling me first?'

'Okay. It would be better if we did it together.'

'We'll see.'

Simon finished his drink and put the glass in the sink. Not looking at her, he asked, 'What was Vince being black­mailed about?'

'Honey claimed to have had his baby fifteen years ago. She called it child support.'

'Did Vince ever see this baby or have visits?'

Skye started gathering up the papers. 'Only once, right after it was born. But he's seen pictures. Why?'

'Because according to the autopsy report, Honey Adair never had a child.'

'Just as I thought. She aborted the baby and still put Vince through the wringer.'

'No. Honey never had an abortion either. She was ster­ile. The medical examiner hypothesizes that she had a sexu­ally transmitted disease that caused an infection in her fallopian tubes.'

'That's interesting. She claimed to be pregnant to try to get Mike Young to marry her, but he found out she was

lying. So, next time, when she told Vince she was pregnant, she demanded money instead of marriage and then conve­niently disappeared.' Skye pounded the table with her fist so hard her glass trembled.

'The real question is, what was she blackmailing every­one else about?'

'Lloyd is easy. It has to be about his affair with her when she was his underage student.'

Simon nodded. 'How about Darleen and Mike?'

'I have no idea about Darleen. Her only connection was dating Mike before he hooked up with Honey.' Skye tapped her finger against her lip. 'Mike, on the other hand, was heavily involved in drugs at that time.'

'Didn't he serve prison time for that already?'

'Yes, but maybe he did something awful while under the influence, and she was holding that act, not the drugs them­selves, over his head. From the dates, it looks like she didn't start blackmailing him until after he got out of prison and was trying-to turn his life around.'

'That makes sense,' Simon agreed. 'And having experi­enced prison once, Mike might not have been willing to take any chances of returning.'

CHAPTER 20

Monday, Monday

After a restless night, Skye rose early on Monday. She dressed in a black linen A-line dress, black hose and shoes, then put her hair into a French twist, spraying it until she was sure no curl would escape at an inopportune mo­ment. Adding the string of pearls her parents had given her when she graduated from college, she was ready for Honey's funeral.

On the way to the funeral home, Skye noticed that the Labor Day sky was drab and cloudy. A pall draped Scumble River like a mantle of shame and made it seem that the town had been singled out as degenerate and corrupt. It was a perfect day to bury someone who had been murdered.

May wanted them to walk in together as a family, and she had instructed Skye to meet them at eight-thirty outside of Reid's. Skye arrived a few minutes early, only to find her parents' white Oldsmobile already parked in the nearly full lot.

She got into the backseat of her parents' car. 'Where's Vince? He usually beats all of us.'

Twisting in her seat, May looked back at Skye. 'I don't know. Right before we left, I tried calling him, but no one answered. We thought he must be on his way already.'

'Could he have spent the night somewhere else?' Skye was proud of herself for wording her question so delicately.

May didn't answer, but Jed caught Skye's eye in the rearview mirror and winked.

Her head rested against the back of the seat, and she let her mind wander. The car's dark-red-velvet interior re­minded Skye of an old sofa that had been in her grand­mother Leofanti's parlor. She must have been hovering between wakefulness and sleep, because the sound of a car door slamming made her heart skip a beat. Her father was standing outside the car.

'Dad's decided we'd better go on in without Vince,' May said. 'You call Abby's when we get inside.' May joined Jed on the pavement.

Skye struggled out of the backseat. The velour gripping her dress made a graceful exit impossible. 'Why do I have to be the one to call?'

'Because if I called, it would embarrass Abby.' May gave Skye a withering look.

The three Denisons walked up to the frosted-glass doors. Reid's Funeral Home had been in business since the nine-teen-thirties. It was a large one-story building with a red­brick exterior, white pillars, and a circular drive. One almost expected the governor to reside there.

Inside, a blast of cold air carried an overwhelmingly flo­ral odor, yet held a hint of a less pleasant scent. Double doors opened to a small flight of carpeted stairs with a metal railing going up the center. One wall was completely mirrored, allowing mourners to arrange both their clothing and their expressions into appropriate lines.

After mounting the stairs, Skye and her parents parted. Jed and May went to the right, stopping to sign the guest book before making their way to the front, where Charlie stood facing the mourners, his back to Honey's closed cof­fin. Sprays of flowers, potted plants, and wreaths flanked the casket.

Skye turned to the left and walked along the narrow aisle formed by folding chairs set in rows that faced the front of the room. Tucked behind the seats was a short hall­way with rest rooms on one side and an office on the other.

The door to the office was open, and inside, Simon was talking to a small man in a shiny navy blue suit.

Simon motioned Skye in as soon as he saw her. 'Skye, I'd like you to meet my assistant, Xavier Ryan. Xavier, this is Skye Denison.'

Xavier dipped his head slightly. 'Nice to meet you, Miss.' His pale blue lashless eyes were magnified behind old-fashioned horn-rimmed glasses, making them seem reptilian.

Although the last thing she wanted to do was touch this man, Skye pasted a smile on her face and held out her hand. 'How do you do?'

His grip was surprisingly warm and gentle. After a brief squeeze, he turned to Simon. 'I'll go see if we need more chairs, Mr. Reid.'

Xavier left, and Simon moved closer to Skye. Taking her chin in his hand, he looked into her eyes. 'I had a really good time yesterday. I'd like to see you again, soon. Are you free Wednesday night?'