“There’s more to it than that.” Kent screeched into a parking space directly in front of the restaurant.
“Maybe it’s your accent. He just needs time to get used to you.” Skye levered herself out of the low seat. “Anyway, don’t worry about it. He doesn’t influence my opinions.”
Kent ushered her through the glass doors. “Yeah, but he does control a lot of what happens in Scumble River.”
“I see.” Skye wondered, not for the first time, if Kent was dating her because he liked her or because he wanted to get in good with Charlie. Their relationship had started out nicely. Kent was a great conversationalist. He could discuss literature and travel, and some of his quips about Scumble River citizens were hilarious. But lately Skye had begun to notice his flaws. He was too much like her ex-fiance—shallow and snobbish. It was probably time to end it before they got in any deeper.
The restaurant owner showed them to a table. Mauve upholstery and walls intermixed with wooden tables and brass accents. Neither the decor nor the food had changed in the two years she’d been home. Skye didn’t need to look at a menu to know what she wanted.
The waitress approached them. “What can I get you?”
“Is your fish fresh or frozen?” Kent asked, studying his menu.
Skye stiffened. They went through this every time they ate here. She could recite the server’s part from memory.
“Gee, let me check.” The waitress hurried away.
“Why do you do that?” Skye asked.
“What?”
“You always ask stuff like that, and I’ve explained that you can’t do that in Scumble River. Believe me, it’s frozen. Nothing on the menu is fresh. Everything is frozen here.”
A stubborn look settled on Kent’s features. “I’ve spoken to the owner. He said he’d think about changing that.”
“Never mind.” Skye didn’t want to argue about seafood. She knew she shouldn’t have agreed to eat with him tonight. She had just about made up her mind to stop seeing Kent. The relationship wasn’t working for either of them. Still, the realistic part of her had argued that she needed to talk to him about Mrs. VanHorn and about the rehearsal Lorelei was supposed to attend. It felt a little mean, but the practical part of her won out. “Did Priscilla VanHorn find you this afternoon?” she asked.
“No, why?”
“She wants Zoe to play Sleeping Beauty.”
“Well, she was my second choice, but she makes a wonderful evil fairy.” Kent stood up. “Where is that waitress?”
“Punishing you for asking a stupid question,” Skye muttered under her breath. Aloud she said, “Speaking of Zoe, she said something that confused me.”
Kent walked over to the kitchen and stuck his head through the opening. “We’d like to order now,” he called.
Skye covered her face and considered bolting for the door. “Sit down,” she hissed.
Kent came back to their table, followed by their waitress, who said, “Frozen.”
He opened his mouth, but Skye kicked him before he could speak, and said, “We’ll both have the steak sandwich, medium rare, and fries. Iced tea for me, red wine for him.”
After the waitress left, Skye interrupted Kent again. “Did you have a rehearsal scheduled yesterday, during seventh and eighth periods?”
“Yes, for Sleeping Beauty and the Prince, but Chase didn’t show up, so I told Lorelei she could go back to study hall.”
“What did
“Chief Boyd wanted to know that, too,” Kent complained. “I went back to my classroom and graded some essays.”
“Did Lorelei leave the gym while you were there?”
“No, she said she had a headache and didn’t want to go back to a noisy study hall, so I said she could lie down for a bit.” Kent looked guilty. “I know I’m not supposed to leave a student alone, but she said she’d only stay a little while.”
“Was anyone else around when you left?”
“Not that I saw. I wasn’t paying much attention. Why are you asking all these questions? Are you working for Wally?”
Skye laughed uncomfortably. “Nope, I’m just curious.”
She changed the subject to the new rules on copy-machine use at the high school. They chatted about school issues until they finished their meal. To ease her conscience, Skye insisted on paying for her half of the check.
Once they were settled in the car and headed toward her cottage, Skye ventured one more inquiry. “Why did you need to get into the gym so badly yesterday afternoon, and why did you disappear when I went to get Wally?”
Kent reddened. “I wanted to get some personal items from backstage, but then I realized how silly I was being and left.”
“What personal items?”
“That was the silly thing. Just some poetry I had been working on. I was afraid the police would make fun of it.”
“Oh, did anyone say anything?”
“No, I doubt they even noticed.”
“Wally’s pretty good about keeping things confidential.” Skye laughed. “Unless your poems were to Lorelei, he wouldn’t mention them.”
Kent’s attention seemed focused on pulling the car into her driveway. “That’s good to know.” He walked her to her door and turned to go. “Well, good night.”
“See you tomorrow.” During all the time they’d been dating he’d never once indicated a desire to accompany her inside, which now that she thought about it was a little strange. Skye stared at his retreating back. There was something odd about Kent Walker, no doubt about it.
CHAPTER 7
Finger in Every Why
Two eyes glowed eerily in the dark foyer as Skye opened her front door. A small shriek escaped her as she fumbled for the light switch, hit it, and saw Bingo sitting on the top of the hall table.
She scooped up the cat, bringing him nose to nose with her. “Never do that again. If you give me a heart attack, you’ll have to live with May, and you know how my mother feels about animals in the house.”
Bingo yawned, revealing needle-sharp white teeth and a tongue like a pink emery board. He wiggled out of Skye’s grasp and trotted into the kitchen.
She checked his bowls. Water and dry food were available, but Skye knew that the feline was waiting for the canned stuff he preferred. A few months ago, the vet had suggested giving Bingo only dry diet food. Bingo had refused to eat for a week and never lost an ounce. Skye eventually caved in and gave him what he wanted.
It occurred to her that perhaps Bingo’s supposed weight problem was similar to her own. Maybe, like Skye, the cat had reached his set point, and the only way he would shed pounds would be to exist on so few calories that life wouldn’t be worth living.
As she was dishing out the cat’s dinner, Skye noticed the light on her answering machine blinking like a drunken firefly. How many calls were there?
Skye resisted the urge to play the messages immediately. She needed to get out of the clothes she had put on fifteen hours ago, and wash off whatever remained of her makeup.
After a quick shower, she slipped into her robe and poured a silken pearl of lotion into her palm, smoothing it over her face. It was such a luxury to be entirely comfortable. Now she was ready for round two of the day from hell.
Skye settled at the kitchen table with a glass of Caffeine-Free Diet Coke, a pad of paper, and a pen. She
