“What a jerk. I’ll bet you didn’t let him get away with crap like that.” Trixie scooped up a piece of toasted bread with chopped tomato and basil sprinkled on top.
Skye smiled thinly, but didn’t offer that that same man had fired her. “The best explanation I have so far is that no matter what we do it’s eighty percent odds that we’ll be in trouble with either a parent or an administrator.”
“That sounds a little dramatic.”
“Not at all. If you call a student for doing something wrong, six out of ten parents will argue about your decision. On the other hand, if you let something pass to give a kid a chance to straighten up, some other child will tell his folks, who then will complain to the superintendent.”
“Sounds rough.”
“And that doesn’t even touch my job. Almost everything I have to say upsets someone. If I don’t find a referred student eligible for services, the teacher is mad at me. If I do find a handicapping condition, the parent is upset. And if I can’t tell and need additional tests, the administration is irritated.”
“Hard to believe anyone wants to be a school psychologist.”
“Believe me, they don’t tell you this stuff in graduate school, and even in your internship you are rarely made aware of the everyday realities of the job.” Skye moved her hands out of the way, allowing the waiter to center her salad in front of her.
The women turned back to their previous topic.
Trixie asked, “Has the staff of the high school been friendly to you?”
“In their own way.” Skye speared a shrimp, a piece of lettuce, and a black olive. “The thing with my job is that I only pop in and out of the building, and rarely have a chance to socialize in the lounge. Even when I do, I think I make a lot of them uncomfortable because they think I’m analyzing everything they say and do.”
“I suppose you get that a lot as a psychologist.”
Skye shrugged. “The other weird thing is that there are still teachers working there who taught us.”
Trixie shuddered. “Not Mr. Zullo? His freshman English was the worst class I’ve ever been in.”
“Yep, he’s still there. He’s only in his fifties.”
“Yuck. He always made me feel so uncomfortable. He stood too close, and I know he was trying to look up my skirt or down my blouse.”
“Yeah, me too. I observed his class a couple of times.”
“Did you see anything?”
“He’s not going to make any moves on the girls while I’m watching.”
“Did you talk to the principal?”
“Homer?” Skye shook her head. “What’s the use? Besides, I have no proof.”
Trixie scowled. “You need to be invisible.”
Skye opened her mouth, but a commotion at the door drew her attention. Her cousin Hugo, his wife, Victoria, and a familiar looking middle-aged man were standing at the maitre d’s podium.
Skye’s eyebrows shot into her hairline. Could her cousins’ dining companion really be who she thought he was? She deliberately dropped her napkin so she could take a good look at the man without anyone noticing.
Victoria’s voice could be heard clearly even under the table. “What is the problem? You have our reservation; I can see our name written in your book.” She stabbed the ledger with a gleaming fingernail the shape of a dagger.
“But, madame, the booth you requested is still occupied. If you insist on that particular spot you must wait. I could seat you elsewhere immediately.” Philippe’s French accent thickened.
Victoria crossed her arms and turned to Hugo. “Do something, sugar. I want ‘our’ table.”
Hugo glanced at the man, who was now standing a little apart from them, and patted Victoria’s arm. “Sure thing, sweetheart.”
Slipping his wallet from his jacket pocket, Hugo selected a bill and approached the restaurant owner. They spoke in whispers for a moment. Philippe finally accepted the money and walked over to a banquette in the back of the room. It was occupied by two women sipping after-dinner coffee and chatting.
He bent low and whispered to one of the women. She listened, consulted with her friend, and nodded. The women got up and moved toward the bar. A busboy appeared instantly and cleared the table, resetting it with fresh linens.
Victoria’s scowl turned to a dazzling smile as she was seated between the two men.
As soon as the three disappeared behind huge menus, Skye leaned over to Trixie and whispered, “Do you know who that guy with Hugo and Victoria is?”
Trixie shrugged. “He does look sort of familiar, but I can’t put a name to him. Why?”
“Because if he’s who I think he is, I now have a plausible suspect in my grandmother’s murder.”
CHAPTER 14
Ashes to Ashes, We All Fall Down
The next day the weather took a turn for the worse. It was hot and humid, and afternoon clouds portended a storm could break loose at any moment. Skye stood with her parents and Vince in the mirrored foyer of the Reid Funeral Home, waiting to view her grandmother’s body. She tugged at her navy linen suit, which suddenly felt a size too small. Even the strand of pearls around her neck felt as if they had shrunk. The building was supposed to be air conditioned, but too many people crowded in too small a space had defeated even the strongest equipment.
She followed the pull of Vince’s hand through the double doors. It was finally their turn to enter. As the eldest, Uncle Dante and his family had been first. Skye could still hear Aunt Mona muttering from the bottom of the stairs about being last. Minnie and her crew were caught in the middle, as usual.
At first the blast of cool air was a welcome relief, but the subtle odor of death beneath that of the flowers made Skye want to turn and run away. Instead, she drew a ragged breath and turned right, walking toward the front of the room. The bronze casket stood beneath a soft pink spotlight. Huge floral displays on wire stands ranged along both sides.
May was on the kneeler, head bent in prayer. Not being Catholic, Jed stood behind her, his hands folded. Vince guided Skye to their mother’s side and she knelt.
Skye swallowed hard and looked at the wrinkled face of her grandmother. Antonia’s nimbus of white hair was artfully arranged and her features looked peaceful. An emerald-green rosary was entwined in her fingers.
Skye stood, allowing Vince to take her place. She examined the cards on the flowers and plants, and was astonished at the number of arrangements.
Vince and May were finished and Skye rejoined her family as they stood in front of the coffin for a moment of silence. In that instant she vowed,
May joined Dante in the line of cushioned chairs in front of the rows of folding chairs. Jed and Vince moved to the back of the room.
Skye looked for Simon. She wanted to run her theory about Hugo by him before she spoke to Hugo himself. Even though Simon rarely agreed with her, he almost always had a unique way of looking at matters that inevitably came in handy.
“So, when I saw Hugo and Victoria eating lunch with the guy from the Castleview housing development company, I knew who had killed Grandma and why.” Skye sat back in her chair.
Simon leaned forward. “Tell me again why Hugo killed your grandmother.”
They were in his office in the back of the funeral home. The door was tightly closed, but Skye still checked to make sure no one was listening. “Number one: Hugo lives far beyond his means, and if he cuts back I’m betting he’ll lose Victoria, not to mention his son.”
“Okay, say we accept that premise even though you don’t have proof. After all, Hugo could make a lot more selling cars than you think. Or maybe Victoria doesn’t care as much about money as she seems to.”
Skye choked on a mouthful of tea. “Right, and Scumble River is the center of culture and elegance.”
He looked at her steadily for a moment. “Ready to go on?” She nodded. “Fine. Even agreeing to all the previous assumptions, how can you get from a simple lunch to this Castleview fellow buying your grandmother’s farm for a housing development?”
