Murder of a Small-Town Honey

guys? I wanted you to ride with me.'

'Vince was arrested,' Skye whispered back. 'His lawyer called just as we were leaving.'

Simon must have heard what she said because he gave her a quizzical look before beginning. After he said a short prayer and gave a few inspirational words, the crowd filed by Charlie and the casket once again.

Standing up front, Skye noticed that all her suspects had come for the funeral. Darleen, looking like a corpse herself, was dressed in a slinky black dress that hugged her skeletal frame and accentuated her chalk-white complexion.

Looking every inch a principal, Lloyd was impeccably outfitted in an expensive blue suit with coordinating shirt and tie. Not to be outdone, Mike wore a charcoal-gray pin­striped suit that made him look as if he had stepped off the pages of a Marshall Field's ad.

If she were judging them on the crime of bad taste, Dar­leen would have to be the killer. Maybe she was using drugs. The clothes she wore had to have some pharmaceuti­cal explanation.

Skye's attention wandered to a group standing on the edge of the crowd. She had been introduced to them by Charlie at the funeral home. The short, square-shaped woman was Honey's agent, Blanche Herman. She kept glancing at her watch and sighing.

Next to Blanche stood Roxanne Dunn, Honey's publi­cist. She was busy scribbling in a pocket-size notebook.

The last of the Chicago Three, as Skye had dubbed them, was the producer of Gumdrop Lane, Adrian Warner. As Skye watched him, he examined his manicured nails and adjusted the collar of his lilac silk shirt. She quickly scanned the crowd to see if anyone else noticed. All eyes

were facing forward. Skye hoped the Chicago people would come to the luncheon; Adrian would certainly liven things up. May had taken another peek at Honey's file and reported to Skye this morning. It was too bad that all three had alibis for the time of Honey's death. Each of them looked as if killing would be all in a day's work.

CHAPTER 21

Luck Be a Lady

Charlie's friends and neighbors had done him proud. His kitchen table and all available counter space were cov­ered with dishes of food. Walters' Supermarket had sent over a sliced roast beef, and the grocery store had con­tributed a spiral-cut ham. There were pies and cakes of every flavor. Jell-O molds jockeyed for position with green-bean-and-french-fried-onion casseroles.

Skye circulated through the assembly. People were balanc­ing plates and cups while standing in little knots gossiping. She refilled coffee, dispensed napkins, and eavesdropped on her suspects' conversations.

Mike and Lloyd stood with their heads together for their entire stay. Skye caught the words 'Chokeberry Days' once and the phrase 'this should take the wind out of his sails' an­other time, but for the most part they stopped talking when­ever she appeared. Skye knew the two men were against continuing the festival, but she thought it was incredibly tacky of them to discuss it while under Charlie's roof, considering that he was so clearly in favor of the event.

On his way out, Mike took her hand and inclined his head. 'I wish you'd reconsider and come to the services at my church tomorrow.'

'If I get out of my meeting early, I'll do that,' Skye promised insincerely, removing her hand from his grasp and holding the screen door open. 'Thanks for coming. I'm sure Charlie appreciates it.'

Lloyd was next to leave. He shook hands with Charlie and made his way over to Skye. 'Can I speak to you a mo­ment in private?'

She glanced at the people still filling Charlie's small house. 'How about the office? It's through the connecting door at the end of the hall.'

He followed her silently. When they reached the office, he said, 'Someone called my wife Saturday morning, pre­tending to be from the paper. Do you know anything about that?'

'How would I know about something like that? What do you mean, 'pretending to be from the paper'?'

Lloyd backed Skye into the counter and poked her with his finger, breathing angrily into her face. 'Someone called pretending to be Barb, but Barb's in St. Louis visiting her sister this weekend. Her husband is our custodian. He men­tioned they were leaving right after school Friday.'

Skye tried to move away from Lloyd, but he put a hand on either side of her. She thought fast. 'That's pretty odd. Could your wife have misunderstood? Maybe what they said was that they were calling for Barb.'

'Wrong!' he roared, french-fried-onion fumes smacking her in the face. 'You can't fool me that easily. I called the Star. There are no pictures from Chokeberry Days that they're trying to identify.'

'That's strange, but I don't know why you think I'm in­volved.' Skye shoved Lloyd away.

'Because it occurred to me that whoever made that call was trying to check to see if I had an alibi for the time of Honey's death.'

Skye had been edging toward the door as he spoke. She fumbled behind her for the knob. 'How clever. Maybe it was the police.' She pushed the door open.

'I didn't kill Honey Adair. If you keep trying to prove I did, all you're going to do is bring up the past and ruin my marriage.' Lloyd's voice was low and beseeching.

Now that she was steps away from other people, Skye felt safer. 'I'll do whatever I have to do to save Vince.'

'If I catch you talking to my wife or spreading any more lies about me, I'll see that you're fired. Remember, I know what happened at your last job. I will not be a scapegoat for your brother.' Lloyd thrust his finger at Skye again.

Just then Charlie emerged from the bedroom next to the connecting door. 'You'll what?' he thundered. 'Believe me, Stark, Scumble River will see the backside of you long before my goddaughter is ever fired.'

Lloyd stalked past Skye and Charlie without replying. He shouldered people out of his way and slammed the front door behind him.

'Well, Uncle Charlie, I think I'm in trouble now.'

Charlie put his arm around her shoulders. 'Don't worry, honey. Lloyd's reign of terror is just about over.'

'What do you mean?'

'Come to the board meeting tomorrow night and you'll see.'

'You've got something on him. Could it help Vince?'

'It won't help Vince, but it will get Mr. Lloyd Stark out of our hair.'

Before Skye could ask more questions she heard a voice calling her name. She turned and saw Honey's agent beck­oning to her. After excusing herself to Charlie, Skye joined the Chicago Three.

'Skye, I couldn't help but notice that you and Charlie seem very close,' Blanche stated as soon as Skye walked over.

'Yes?' Skye waited to see what was on the agent's agenda.

'We have an exciting project to honor Honey, but Char­lie is reluctant to give us the go-ahead, and we thought maybe you could explain it to him.' Blanche moved closer to Skye. 'See, the thing is, the terms of Honey's will give Charlie the rights to her life story.'

'I really don't think I should get involved.' Skye tried to move away, but both the producer and the publicist blocked all possible avenues of escape.

'Just listen.' Adrian adjusted the cuff of his lilac shirt. 'It's a fabulous idea.'

Roxanne whipped open her notebook. 'We think the Honey/Mrs. Gumtree story would be a marvelous made- for-TV movie. It has everything: sex, violence, deception. The murder scene with that hairdresser plunging his scis­ sors into Honey's throat would be boffo.'

Skye shook them off like raindrops. ' 'That hairdresser' is my brother, and he did not kill Honey. Any suggestion in a book, movie, or cartoon that he did and you'll be speak­ing with our attorney.'

No one blinked. Finally Blanche said, 'Does this mean you won't help us get Charlie to sign a release?'

The last of the crowd was slowly taking their leave. Charlie and May stood by the door, easing them out. After the ceremony at the cemetery, Jed had dropped Skye off at the funeral home to get her car, then gone to the farm to work on some machinery. She was to drive May home after they finished cleaning up at Charlie's.

Skye grabbed a tray from the kitchen and started fetch­ing dirty plates, silverware, and cups. The places where people crammed them were amazing. Someone had even deposited their debris in a file drawer in the desk.