off since they would dock her for a full day anyway. This time when she called she asked to speak to the principal directly.
“Mrs. Greer, this is Skye Denison. Did you hear my grandmother died on Monday?”
“Yes, dear, I was very sorry. Antonia was a wonderful woman. I used to love sitting in her kitchen and watching her bake. We’d talk about gardening. She always had the best tips and grew the biggest peonies.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize you knew my grandmother.” Skye let her tone rise at the end of the sentence, hoping for an explanation.
“Well, it was over forty years ago, but I dated your Uncle Dante for a time when we were in high school together. He was so handsome and had such a wonderful sense of humor. All the girls were crazy about him.”
Skye didn’t know what to say to that. This was a side of her uncle she hadn’t pictured. What had happened to change him? It had been years since she’d thought of Dante as fun. As the silence lengthened, she knew she needed to say something. “Wow. Small world. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Anyway, I was planning on coming in today, but some things have come up so I was wondering if it would be all right to take a personal day?”
Mrs. Greer didn’t answer right away. “I’m sorry, Skye, but I booked an appointment with the parents of Perry Underwood for us this afternoon. Is there any way you can make it? These aren’t easy people to deal with, and they would take it as a personal insult if we canceled.”
Careful to keep the sigh out of her voice, Skye said, “What time are they coming in?”
“One-thirty.”
“Okay, I’ll be in around one.”
“Great, I’ll brief you then.” Mrs. Greer sounded relieved.
After hanging up the phone, Skye went out on her deck and sat on a lounge chair. She watched the river go by with Bingo curled up on her lap, purring as she stroked him. Two more days of school and she’d be free.
Her big plans for this summer included lots of reading and lying on the beach.
She couldn’t afford to go anywhere on vacation, but one of the local abandoned strip mining areas had been turned into a recreational club with swimming and boating. It cost five hundred dollars to join and a hundred a year in dues, but her godfather, Charlie Patukas, had given her a membership for her birthday.
Normally, she wouldn’t have accepted such an expensive gift from anyone, but Charlie rarely took no for an answer—especially since he’d inherited a large sum of money last year. He had bought Vince an electric golf cart, May new carpeting, and Jed a satellite dish. He got such a kick out of surprising his “family” with gifts and playing the big shot that he made them feel like ingrates when they tried to turn down his presents.
Skye smiled fondly. Charlie was one of a kind. The soothing motion of the river lulled her and she wasn’t aware of time passing until she was roused by the ringing phone.
Dumping Bingo unceremoniously inside the door, she ran for the kitchen. “Hello?”
“What in the hell is going on at Ma’s now?” It was Uncle Dante.
Skye counted to ten before answering. “Hello, Uncle Dante. Thanks for asking, I’m doing fine.”
“I said you could pick up the damn cat, not tear up the backyard.”
“Uncle Dante, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m talking to you so I can’t be the one tearing up the yard.” She knew logic was a waste of time with him but she always tried it anyway.
“Then I repeat: What is going on?” Dante’s voice was now so loud that Bingo was cowering in the space between the washer and dryer.
“I’m sorry. I’ve been asked not to discuss that with anyone. You need to talk to Chief Boyd.” Her eyes fell on the microwave clock and she was startled to see it was already twelve-forty-five.
“You tell me right now, Missy. I’m trustee of the estate and have a legal right to know what’s going on.” His voice cracked. “What are you doing to my mother now?”
She heard the pain in his voice, but didn’t have an answer. “I truly am sorry. This is not hurting Grandma, honest. She’d want us to find out the truth.”
He jumped on her words. “What have you found?”
“I’m really, really sorry, Uncle Dante, but Chief Boyd ordered me not to talk about it. I don’t want to get in trouble with the police over this. Please call Wally and ask him to explain.”
She let him yell for a moment, then cut back in. “I have to go now. Sorry. The chief will explain. Bye.”
CHAPTER 7
Three, Four, the Cousins Are Sore
Skye pushed open the door of Scumble River Elementary School. The principal, Mrs. Greer, was waiting in the hallway. She was a tiny woman with a puff of white hair, dressed in a soft pink suit. They walked to the office without speaking and closed the door. Mrs. Greer sat in a royal-blue wing chair and indicated that Skye should take its companion.
It was obvious to Skye that Mrs. Greer had spent her own money fixing up her office. The Queen Anne-style desk was mahogany and the cream-colored walls were hung with quality reproductions.
Picking up a file, Mrs. Greer said, “Perry Underwood is a first grader who receives assistance from the special education teacher and the speech therapist. He began receiving services when he was three and attended a special education preschool until this year. He transferred to Scumble River Elementary last fall.”
Skye nodded. “Yes, I’ve observed him in Mrs. Hopkins’ room. He has a language disorder that makes it difficult for him to process what is said to him and almost impossible for him to communicate complex thoughts.”
“Exactly. Have you met his parents?”
“No, the special ed coordinator from the co-op held the intake staffing without me. All I’ve done is review his file and take a look at him in class.”
“Well, supposedly Perry was involved in a dreadful fight yesterday in the hallway on the way to lunch. I had the school nurse look at him, and Abby says there’s not a mark on him.”
Before Skye could reply, there was a knock and Fern Otte, the school secretary, peeked around the door. “The Underwoods are here.”
“Send them in.” Mrs. Greer stood and ushered the couple inside, seating them on the blue-and-cream brocade sofa facing the chairs. “Would you like some coffee, tea, or a soft drink?”
They refused. While Mrs. Greer made introductions, Skye sized up the couple across from her. Mr. Underwood was dressed in fatigues and his brown hair was cut in a military-style crew cut. His wife wore cargo pants tucked into commando boots and an olive drab T-shirt. Both sat at attention.
Mrs. Greer settled back into her chair and tilted her head toward Mr. Underwood. “You asked to see us regarding your son, Perry.”
“Yes,” Mr. Underwood said. “I’ve taught my son to take care of himself, but he was ambushed yesterday by three boys. He managed to defeat them and give them a good thrashing, but I’m concerned about the security in your hallways.”
“I spoke to his teacher. She says the boys weren’t in the hall long enough to have the type of fight you describe. Could Perry be exaggerating?” Mrs. Greer smiled kindly at both parents.
“No.” Mr. Underwood clenched his cap in his hand. “My boy doesn’t lie. Your teacher doesn’t want to admit she’s at fault.”
Fixing him with a steady gaze, Mrs. Greer said, “My teachers don’t lie either.” She let silence prevail before continuing. “Setting that aside for a moment, your son doesn’t have a scratch on him.”
“I told you he’s been taught to take care of himself. It’s the other kids who got hurt, not Perry.” Mr. Underwood puffed out his chest.
“There are no injured students in any of the first-grade classrooms. And none of the children recall anything happening yesterday beyond the regular hallway pushing and shoving.” Mrs. Greer did not yield eye contact.
“Kids stick together.”
“None of the teachers in the surrounding classrooms heard any commotion in the hall.”
“They want to keep their jobs,” Mr. Underwood said. “I know my boy.”
Skye leaned toward the parents. “We’re not saying that Perry lied. Everyone’s perception of reality is slightly different and your son has a severe problem with the usage and comprehension of language, which makes his understanding even more dissimilar than those around him. Maybe this is no more than a misunderstanding.”
“What?” Mr. Underwood frowned.
