mutual-admiration society was screeching to a halt.”
“You and Lorelei were fighting?”
“No. Like they say in court, irreconcilable differences. She was starting to bring the group down. She bagged on a bunch of parties.”
“Oh.”
“We were going to different cheerleading camps this summer and different colleges in the fall. We were, like, drifting.”
“One last question and I’ll let you go.” Skye studied the teen. “Did Lorelei bring any beverage in a bottle to school?”
“No. She was always trying to get rid of water weight, so she didn’t drink much of anything.”
“Okay. Well, if you change your mind about talking to someone, leave me a note.”
Zoe paused at the door. “Can I be blunt with you?”
A voice inside her head was yelling no, but Skye’s curiosity made her say, “Yes.”
“FYI about your clothes. Whatever kind of look you were going for . . . you missed.”
The door closed behind the teen. Skye gazed down at her navy pin-striped skirt and vest, and wondered where she had gone wrong.
After a delicious lunch of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich—she
It was hard to keep straight which was which. They both wore their cheerleading uniforms, had straight blond hair and blue eyes. They both had been in study hall Wednesday during seventh and eighth periods, and neither remembered Lorelei with a bottled drink in school. And they both managed to cry without ruining their elaborate eye makeup. Skye was impressed. At least they showed some emotions about their friend’s death.
Skye’s last appointment for the day was with Chase Wren. He sauntered into her office and ran his eyes up and down her body. She immediately hit the record button on the small tape player she kept in her top drawer. She usually used it so she wouldn’t have to take notes, but in some cases it was good to have an exact record of what transpired.
Chase was cast from the same mold as Troy, but made of inferior materials. His hair wasn’t quite as golden, his muscles were overdeveloped, and when he opened his mouth, it was obvious he had been shorted in the brains department, too.
“So, Chase, I just wanted to check and see how things were going with you today.”
“Huh? Okay, I guess. Why?”
“Well, you were a friend of Lorelei’s, and I wanted to see if you were upset by her death,” Skye explained slowly, trying to use one-syllable words he could understand.
“Gee, that was real sad. But we got to go on. That’s what Coach and Mr. Walker say.”
“Speaking of Coach and Mr. Walker, on Wednesday you didn’t show up for rehearsal or practice. Where were you?”
Chase screwed up his face. “Do I gotta tell you?”
“No, not if you’d rather not. I thought it might help to tell me first, so you have a little practice before Chief Boyd asks you.”
The big teen was silent for a moment before saying, “Look, I ain’t never said I was a genius. I know I’m no Delbert Feinstein, but I’m going to graduate this year, no matter how many semesters it takes.
“I see.” Skye tried to follow the athlete’s convoluted thinking.
“So, I’m not doing so good in math, so my teacher tutors me during seventh hour, and that day we ran over into eighth without noticing. But I don’t want the other guys to know I need help.”
“I’ll make sure that doesn’t get around,” Skye vowed. “I have one more question. Have you ever noticed Lorelei with a bottle of water or juice or something at school?”
“Nah, that chick followed all the rules.”
As the adolescent exited her office, Skye checked the time. An hour of school remained. Time to make the rounds again.
Everything seemed back to normal. The co-op social worker reported no concerns. Skye didn’t see any parents in the halls, and the parking lot held the usual number of cars. Even Homer was back to his usual routine— she could hear a baseball game blaring from the radio behind his closed door. Now they just had to make it through the parent meeting.
There were two people she still wanted to talk to. Kent had seventh and eighth period as plan times, so he was free. Her questions for Trixie about the cheerleader meeting would have to wait. Skye wanted to ask Kent about Lorelei’s bottle before talking to Wally. She had forgotten to ask about it last night.
As she approached Kent’s room, she heard voices and wondered if he was rehearsing. She knew the stage was still off-limits, but maybe he had decided to run lines with some of the students. He hated being interrupted or observed during rehearsals, so Skye hung back.
“Kenny, darlin’, Lorna Ingels told me about you two. No need tryin’ to pretend with little old me.” Skye recognized Mrs. VanHorn’s distinctive drawl.
“Priscilla, you know that isn’t true.” Kent’s voice was pitched low and persuasive.
“Well, if my Zoe were to play the lead in
“Of course, Zoe shall have the lead. She deserves it. It was a tight contest between her and Lorelei.” Kent’s tone was soothing.
“It was the hair, wasn’t it?” Mrs. VanHorn demanded. “I told Zoe it was a mistake to cut her hair.”
“It makes no difference now. I shall begin working with Zoe this very afternoon.”
If it was true, Mrs. VanHorn’s accusations filled in pieces that Skye had only suspected. She had wondered why Kent had continued to ask her out long after it was obvious there was no chemistry between them. She’d thought his reasons were the same as hers—no one else halfway interesting around—but maybe she’d been wrong.
As Skye hurried back to the guidance office, part of her felt shocked and betrayed, but her cooler, more rational side was asking if she really was all that surprised.
If he’d been having an affair with Lorna, Kent had been using Skye as a front—someone appropriate to date so no one would suspect he was sleeping with a married woman. That might explain why Skye had never heard any rumors about him. Either he had covered his tracks well, or she had never cared enough about him to notice.
The dismissal bell had sounded ten minutes ago. Normally the halls would have begun to quiet, but today Skye watched as parents drifted in, mostly in pairs, some in sizable groups. Voices were subdued, but there was a steady drone. They beelined to the cafeteria and carefully felt their way onto the picnic-style tables with the attached benches. Many a panty hose would be ruined before this meeting ended.
Little changed at Scumble River High. The pea-green cinder-block walls and matching linoleum were the same as when Skye had attended high school. Even the smell was what she remembered—pine cleaner mixed with overcooked mystery meat.
Chief Boyd entered exactly on time, and the already-quiet murmur faded completely. He was dressed in uniform, and his gold shield glinted in the drab room. A small podium had been set up in the front, near the serving windows.
Charlie emerged from the kitchen area and grabbed the mike. “I’d like to thank Chief Boyd for taking the time to speak to us. He’s going to give us a brief summary of what the police know and will answer a few questions. After he leaves, we’ll answer any school-related questions you have.”
Wally took the mike from Charlie and said, “Wednesday afternoon, Lorelei Ingels was found dead on the gym stage here at Scumble River High. Certain pieces of evidence led us to believe this was not a death by natural causes. The coroner ordered an autopsy. Our preliminary finding is that she was poisoned. A toxicology screen takes some time, so we do not know the nature of the poison. We are acting as if this is a homicide.
“Because of the suspicious manner of death, we have had to interview many students and staff. I understand
