Murder of a Small-Town Honey

open the door. A battered desk and a single metal folding chair crowded the small room.

Turning to Lloyd, who was hovering outside the door­way, Skye said, 'I don't see any secure area for confidential files. I'll need a locking file cabinet.'

He scowled. 'I suppose you'll have a whole list of things you absolutely have to have. Just remember we aren't a rich district like the one you came from.'

Nodding, Skye said, 'I understand, but I do need a place where files can be kept locked up.' She aimed the next sug­gestion at his ego. 'Maybe we could put them in your of­fice. Of course, I'll need a key.'

'My office is not a storage facility. I'll make sure you get a cabinet.' Lloyd took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped away the sweat that had suddenly appeared on his brow.

The health room was located beside the main office, but with a separate entrance. It was very small, with just enough room for a brown vinyl cot, a locked cabinet, a desk, and a chair.

Lloyd was standing in the doorway tapping his foot when Skye caught up to him. He moved to one side and gestured for her to go in. 'Abby, this is Skye Denison, our new school psychologist. Skye, this is Abby Fleming, our district's school nurse.'

With that statement Lloyd walked away, saying over his shoulder, 'You two talk, I'll see you both at the PPS meet­ing tomorrow.'

'Wait—we haven't even discussed my duties yet.' Be­fore Skye could follow, Lloyd closed his office door.

His voice came from behind the glass panel. 'Talk to my secretary. She'll give you a schedule. I'll be busy the rest of the day.'

Skye stared after him as if she were waking from a nightmare, and then turned to Abby, hoping for a friendly reaction. 'Tell me this is unusual for him. He's under a lot of pressure, right?'

Abby looked Skye over before indicating that she should take a seat on the cot. 'No, I'm afraid he's always like that.'

Skye examined Abby carefully. She was everything Skye would like to be—five feet ten and built like an ath­ lete. Her white skirt showed off her tanned, muscular legs to advantage and was paired with a tucked-in navy polo shirt and spotless white tennis shoes'. More striking than pretty, she was the kind of woman who would fit in better at a health club than a cocktail party. Skye knew her brother had been going out with Abby, and now she understood why—Vince always had been attracted to physical perfec­tion.

As silence once again threatened to engulf her, Skye wondered if everyone in this school was the quiet type. Scrambling for a topic of conversation, slie searched the bare walls for inspiration. Finding none, she remarked, 'So, you're dating my brother?'

Hearing no response, Skye leaned forward. 'Vince, Vince Denison is my brother.'

'Yes, I know.' Abby tucked a strand of long white-blond hair behind her tortoiseshell headband.

Rearranging her skirt and smoothing her own hair, Skye waited for Abby to continue. When she didn't speak, and gave no indication that she intended to, Skye scooted to­ward the end of the cot. 'Have you worked here long?'

Abby nodded. Set against the fairness of her brows and lashes, her large aquamarine eyes dominated her face.

Smiling her encouragement, Skye waited, although Abby's persistent silence was beginning to get on her nerves. Abby did not look up; instead she began filing her nails.

Skye waited a while longer, then stood up. 'It is obvious to me, that despite Lloyd's suggestion that we talk, that we have very little to say to each other. I think it would be best if I left you to your busy schedule.' At this Skye stared sig­nificantly at the empty desktop.

She paused with her hand on the knob. 'Sorry to have taken up so much of your time.'

Abruptly, Abby burst out laughing. Skye was sure this was going to be her first nutcase at her new job and was frantically trying to recall how to react to hysteria.

Before Skye could act, Abby regained her composure. 'Boy, Vince really has you pegged.'

'Pardon me?' Skye responded stiffly.

'Chill. Sit back down. Relax. Vince told me nothing would drive you crazier than for me not to talk to you.' Abby got up and tried to take Skye by the arm.

'What?' She shook off Abby's hand.

'Vince said that ever since you were children everyone has always confided in you. He claimed even strangers come up and spill their guts.'

'So?'

'When he asked me to test out his theory, I figured, What the heck? What would you do if I didn't respond as you're used to having people respond? If someone you were expecting to be friendly wasn't? Vince knew you'd ei­ ther get angry or cry. He thought you'd get angry; I voted for cry.'

'You're telling me you were willing to make me cry just to test out my brother's silly theory? That's a pretty sadistic thing to do to someone you don't even know. I've always suspected that nurses enjoyed giving those painful injec­tions.' Skye held her temper with great difficulty.

Abby patted Skye's knee. 'You're right, of course. It was a mean joke, and I apologize. I guess I wasn't thinking about it from your point of view. I'm not very good about putting myself in other people's shoes. But do you realize how hard it is on Vince, being the brother of Miss Perfect?'

'Now what are you talking about?' Skye's head was be­ginning to ache.

'Don't be modest; You were a straight-A student, never got into any trouble. You not only went to college but also to graduate school, not to mention your noble sacrifice when you joined the Peace Corps. Let's face it—you are every-

one's darling, and now you've moved back home. How would you like to be the older, less successful sibling?'

Skye shook her head. It felt odd to be described as suc­cessful. True, she had done well at the University of Illi­nois—only a hundred miles away from Scumble River, but light-years from it in terms of lifestyle.

But her stint in the Peace Corps was not the noble sacri­fice that Abby described. Instead it had been a place to hide when she couldn't face coming home to Scumble River and found there were no jobs for someone with a bachelor's de­gree in psychology. And graduate school had been two years of being made to feel never quite good enough.

This was followed by a year of internship—something akin to being an indentured servant. Not to mention being fired from her first job for insubordination and being jilted shortly afterward by a fiance who was more in love with his own social standing than with her.

'My brother thinks of himself as unsuccessful?' Skye allowed herself to be led back to the cot. 'I had no idea. I'm sure a great psychologist,' she said sarcastically. 'I don't even know what my own brother is thinking.'

'Vince is hard to read. He turns on the charm if he thinks you're getting too close. Besides, how often have you seen him since you moved away?'

'You're right. A lot of things seem to have changed in the twelve years I've been gone. Maybe it's a good thing I came back after all.'

CHAPTER 6

Suspicious Minds

Later that afternoon, the door to Skye's office banged open and Lloyd entered the room. 'Well, you certainly have managed to make yourself comfortable. I suppose you'll want a couch and your own coffee machine next.' He examined the desk, chair, and file cabinet closely. 'None of our other psychologists had an office to them­selves. They took whatever room wasn't in use when they stopped by.'

Skye bit her tongue, counted to twenty, and breathed deeply—all the while trying to refrain from explaining that perhaps that was one of the reasons they had such trouble keeping support staff, such as social workers and psycholo­gists.

Instead she made herself smile. 'Yes, I want to thank you for all your help. The other schools seemed unable to assist me.' She was very proud of herself when no trace of sarcasm leaked out.

Lloyd puffed out his chest. 'I'm the one to see in this district if you need something. Those other two principals don't have the influence I have. The superintendent and I are fishing buddies, you know.' He completely disregarded the fact that he had done nothing. The secretaries had arranged everything.

Once Lloyd left, Skye spent some time organizing the confidential special education files she had found. The