She shook off his hand and started after the other couple. He caught up with her in one easy stride. “Leave it alone.” He paused, and a look of distaste crept over his features as an unpleasant thought seemed to cross his mind. “Unless, of course, you’re jealous and intend to fight for your man.”
Skye wrinkled her nose. “That isn’t it. They’re arguing. I want to make sure the woman is okay.”
“She’ll be fine.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I sent Xavier out to patrol the grounds. He’ll break things up if they get out of hand.”
“How? Pardon me for stereotyping, but Xavier’s the personification of a ninety-pound weakling. What could he do?” Skye questioned.
“You of all people should know how dangerous it is to judge by appearances. Xavier is tough. He studied martial arts when he was a medic in Vietnam.”
“Oh.” For a moment Skye was caught without an answer. “What do you mean, me of all people?” Was he referring to her weight?
“A psychologist.” He raised a brow, and a tiny hint of sarcasm came through his voice.
“Oh, yeah.” Skye wasn’t sure how to break away, or if she really wanted to now.
They continued to stand close together. Not touching, not saying anything, until Skye noticed Simon’s eyes widen.
She turned to see what had stolen his attention from her, and murmured, “Oh, my.”
It was the Doozier family. Leading the group was the family patriarch, Earl. Tattoos covered most of his body; he usually wore only shorts so everyone could enjoy them. Today he had taken the seriousness of the occasion into consideration and wore a pair of tiger-striped sweatpants and a T-shirt with the saying: 24 HOURS IN A DAY . . . 24 BEERS IN A CASE . . . COINCIDENCE?
Following him was his wife, Glenda. Skye blinked. She could swear that the woman’s black halter jumpsuit was made of rubber. It caused her chalk-white skin to look corpselike. Her poorly dyed blond hair was arranged in an elaborately teased hairdo.
Two boys and a girl fidgeted next to the adults. The children’s sullen expressions matched Elvira’s, who brought up the rear.
“I should probably go do something about that.” Skye nodded toward the brood.
“What?” Simon asked. “They aren’t causing any problems.”
“No, I meant make sure they get through the line all right,” Skye hurried to explain. “I’m afraid the Ingels will hurt their feelings. Or that they’ll feel awkward. Or someone will make a remark.”
“Besides, you’re dying to find out what they’re doing here,” Simon said, cutting to the chase.
“I am a little curious,” Skye admitted, “but I really don’t want their feelings to be hurt. That family has helped me more than once.”
“So, go over there.”
“Well, here’s the tricky part.” Skye smoothed her jacket. “Ah, I’m on great terms with Earl and the children, but Glenda’s a little ticked at me.”
“Why?”
“When I first moved back to town, she and I had words on proper parenting.”
“At a school conference?”
“Not exactly,” Skye acknowledged. “At my brother’s hair salon. The little ones were throwing rocks at Vince’s glass sign, and I made them stop.”
“And?”
“And Glenda didn’t think I should have interfered. And some things were said.”
“Interesting dilemma.” A smile lurked at the corner of Simon’s lips.
“Oh, well. Maybe she won’t recognize me. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.” Skye moved off in their direction, muttering to herself, “Whatever she does to me I’m in the right place; I’m already at a funeral parlor.”
Skye approached Earl. “Hello, Mr. Doozier. Nice to see you again.”
The thin man smiled, revealing missing teeth. “Miz Denison. What you doing here?”
“Sometimes kids get upset at wakes, so the school asked me to hang around in case any of the students need help.” Skye slid a glance at the woman. “Hello, Mrs. Doozier.”
“Don’t think we met,” the blonde answered.
“Baby, this is the lady from the school that me and Junior helped when her car went in the river a while back,” Earl explained.
“Oh.” Glenda, losing interest, turned to stare at two women whose heads were bent close together as they gossiped in low voices and occasionally sneaked peeks at the Dooziers.
“How about you and your family?” Skye asked. “Did you know Lorelei or her folks?”
“Nah, nothing like that.” Earl pointed to Elvira, who was trying to ignore the whole situation. “You know Elvira here found the body. So it was only right we pay our last respects.”
“That’s very nice of you.” Skye patted his arm, then regretted the gesture. Touching the tattoos was like touching the scales of a snake. “How is Elvira related to you?” She worded the question carefully, well aware of the Doozier’s reputation for inbreeding. Often fathers, brothers, and uncles were all the same people in that family.
“She’s my youngest sister. Our folks done passed on, so she lives with us.”
They had almost reached the front of the line. Skye moved between the two adults, and when their turn came, she said, “Mr. and Mrs. Ingels, this is Mr. and Mrs. Doozier. Their sister is the one who found Lorelei and tried to get help for her.”
Earl pumped Allen Ingels’s hand. “Sorry ’bout your little girl. When they find out who did this to her, you need any help, you call me. I’ll bring my shotgun and my dog. We’ll get that son of a—”
“And this is Elvira Doozier,” Skye hurriedly interrupted, bringing her forward. “The girl we were talking about.”
As Elvira looked at the Ingels, her hostile, pierced, tattooed demeanor subtly softened. “I’m real sorry.”
Allen nodded and moved back half a step, subtly distancing himself from the group.
“Thank you.” Lorna took Elvira’s hand and gazed intently into her eyes, as if seeking the answer to an ancient mystery. “Are you happy?”
Skye wondered what Lorna meant. Did she think her daughter had committed suicide?
Elvira’s expression became uneasy. “Yes’m. Most of the time.” She withdrew her hand and backed away.
“Good.” After a moment Lorna said, “Thank you for coming.” She turned to the next people in line, her brittle control firmly back in place.
As the Dooziers and Skye moved on, Earl announced, “I gotta use the can before we go.”
“Me and the kids’ll be waiting in the Regal,” Glenda told her husband.
Earl nodded and went in search of relief.
Skye glanced at her watch. It was only seven-thirty. People were continuing to pour through the door. The scents of flowers, perfume, and sweat were closing up her sinuses. She needed a breath of fresh air.
Outside, the night was cool, and she wrapped her arms around herself as she gazed up at the moon. From where she stood on the sidewalk, she could hear the murmur of voices inside.
She was about to go back when Earl Doozier stepped through the doors. He had managed to spill water down his front, soaking the small potbelly that hung over his waistband.
He caught Skye staring at him and grinned. “When you’ve got a tool as good as mine, you have to build a shed over it.” He patted both his upper and lower bulges for emphasis.
Half of her wanted to laugh, but the other half fought for a more dignified response. Before she could react either way, Glenda appeared out of nowhere and grabbed Earl’s arm. “Too bad all that shade stunted your prize tool’s growth.”
Skye could hear the couple arguing as they walked to their car. She decided to return to the visitation, where it was relatively safe.
The line had finally stopped growing, and only a few stragglers remained. Skye glanced around. It was nearly eight, and there was no one left whom she knew. Time to retrieve her purse and go home.
