Murder of a Sleeping Beauty

The two social workers gathered their belongings. The woman said, “There doesn’t seem to be a need for us to come back, but if the situation changes, call us and we’ll be right here.”

Skye shook both their hands. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

As they walked toward the entrance the man turned to her. “You really do need to get a crisis-intervention plan in place. I’ll put an outline in the mail to you tomorrow.”

“Great.” Skye waved. “Thanks again.” For a moment she almost believed she saw halos around their heads. Of course, it was just the afternoon sun shining through the outer door . . . wasn’t it?

Clutching the papers they had given her, Skye went in search of Trixie and Abby. Staff were required to stay half an hour after the dismissal bell. Skye had five minutes to find them.

They were together in the IMC, formerly known as the library. Both women clutched cans of Pepsi. Abby was sprawled in one of the few upholstered seats. Her white-blond hair cascaded over the chair’s back; a tanned hand was laid across her eyes. Trixie sat on the counter, her short, compact body bent at the waist as she clasped her knees.

Abby greeted Skye as she entered the room with, “I’m never doing this again. My throat hurts, and my head is pounding.”

“It really was a lot harder than you said, Skye,” Trixie chimed in. She ran her fingers through her short brown hair. “We don’t have the training.”

“Well, I really appreciate your pitching in. And I understand how hard it is. But unfortunately . . .”

Abby straightened, her aquamarine eyes narrowed. Trixie jumped down from the counter. They both said, “What . . .”

“Sorry.” Skye ran a finger around her suddenly tight collar. Trixie and Abby didn’t know the half of it . . . yet. “But we’ll need to draw up a crisis strategy. Now that you two have some experience, it’s logical for you to be included in that plan.”

“How could you do that to us?” Abby advanced on Skye. “We only did this as a favor to you.”

Trixie closed in from the other side. “You wouldn’t do this to your best friend, would you?”

“Sorry. Trying to make me feel like this is my fault won’t work. You both know my mom. May is a certified travel agent for guilt trips. In comparison to her, you two haven’t even gotten your learner’s permits yet.”

Abby and Trixie muttered ominously under their breath and moved closer to Skye.

When she realized she was being backed into the circulation desk, Skye offered words of appeasement. “Don’t worry. You won’t be in this alone. Scumble River High has a lot of caring teachers who often aren’t noticed because the bad ones get all the attention. I’m sure we’ll get plenty of volunteers, so no one will have the entire responsibility on his or her shoulders.”

“You’d better be right.” Trixie was now knee to knee with Skye. “Because if I have to go through this again, I’m putting that picture of you and the goat in the school paper.”

Skye cringed. She knew the photo Trixie meant. When they were twelve their Girl Scout troop had visited a petting zoo, and a huge goat had developed a crush on Skye. He had followed her everywhere, finally butting her to the ground and standing guard over her so she couldn’t get up.

“And I have a picture Vince gave me while we were dating. It’s you and him attending your junior prom. How would you like everyone reminded that the only escort you could get to the dance was your brother?” Abby leaned in from the other side until they were nose to nose, and said, “Now, you were saying that Trixie and I had done our part, and you’d get someone else for the next crisis, right?”

“Right,” Skye mumbled.

CHAPTER 6

Sweetness and Slight

Ms. Denison, Ms. Denison.” A high-pitched fake-sounding drawl shot through Skye’s aching head. Her hand was inches from the knob of the office door when she turned. “Yes? May I help you?”

“I’m Priscilla VanHorn, Zoe’s mother. Do you have a minute?” The overblown redhead wore a dress that looked as if it were made out of leftover wallpaper that had been poorly hung.

“Sure. Let’s use the health office.” Skye ushered the woman through the main door and into a small room to the left.

Skye took the seat behind the desk, forcing Mrs. VanHorn to perch on the vinyl cot. “Now, what can I do for you?”

“I’m concerned about my daughter. I understand you were with her when that awful police chief interrogated her?” The woman raised her voice at the end of her statement, making it sound like a question.

“Yes, but I wouldn’t say he interrogated her. He asked her a few questions—mostly trying to get a picture of Lorelei’s last few hours.” Skye wasn’t sure where this was going.

“Well, Zoe was very upset by the whole ordeal.” Mrs.

VanHorn rummaged in her purse and pulled out a lace-trimmed hankie. “Zoe and Lorelei have been best friends forever. They’ve been together in every pageant, play, and performance. They’re in the same clubs and have been cheering together since junior high.”

“I had no idea they were so close.” Skye thought of Zoe’s demeanor during both Wally’s interview and the crisis counseling. “She really covered up her feelings well.”

“Lorelei was like a sister to Zoe and a daughter to me.” Mrs. VanHorn touched the corner of her eye with the handkerchief. “We were closer than her own family.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Her mother was only interested in Lorelei when she was winning a crown. And Linette’s only use for her sister was as a tape measure—to show how much better she was at everything.”

“My, how sad for Lorelei.” Skye frowned, trying to remember what she had heard about the young woman. “She seemed like such a golden adolescent—winning all the school prizes and honors.”

Mrs. VanHorn heaved a big sigh. “So, you can see how being grilled by the police is too upsetting for Zoe?”

“Yes, we’ll try not to let it happen again. And I’ll talk to Zoe myself tomorrow, to make sure she’s okay.” The woman didn’t move. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“I just had a thought.” Mrs. VanHorn widened her eyes and fluttered her lashes. “I’m sure the school will go ahead and put on Sleeping Beauty. After all, the show must go on. Zoe would be the perfect replacement for Lorelei’s part.” She leaned forward and lowered her fake drawl a notch. “Zoe really should have had the part to begin with. She has a superior voice, and is a much better actress than Lorelei.”

“I really don’t have anything to do with the play.”

Mrs. VanHorn ignored Skye’s statement. “Zoe and I decided to let Lorelei have the part, to get her mother off her back.”

“How . . . nice of you.” This woman was amazing. She must subscribe to the new magazine, Better Living Through Denial. Skye tried again. “I don’t have anything to do with casting the musical. You need to see Kent Walker.” Skye forced down a snicker as she pictured Priscilla VanHorn trying to influence Kent’s decision. Skye remembered his endless monologues in the teachers’ lounge as he tried to decide who should get what part. The faculty had learned quickly that suggestions were not welcome.

“He’s still in charge?” The woman looked confused.

“Yes, why wouldn’t he be?” Mrs. VanHorn didn’t answer, so Skye finally asked, “Do you know where his room is?”

“Why, yes I do.” The woman hoisted herself off the cot and picked up her purse. “Now that Lorelei’s gone, you just keep my Zoe in mind for those honors and awards you were talking about.”

Skye waited until Mrs. VanHorn had disappeared down the hall. She looked at her watch. It was nearly four- thirty. She had forgotten to ask Trixie about that cheerleading meeting when she talked to her earlier, and the librarian would have left for home a half hour ago. She needed to speak to Kent, too, but if he weren’t gone, he’d be tied up with Mrs. VanHorn.

Skye left the health room and looked toward Homer’s office. To her surprise, the lights were still on and she could hear voices. This was not a good sign. The principal usually beat the kids out the door when the final bell rang.