To Skye’s surprise, Kent allowed her previous comment to drop, and answered, “So she fooled you, too. She has a veneer of culture, but it doesn’t go very deep, and she’s always afraid of what might show through if she lets go.”
“Really? What is her background?”
“Lorelei told me her mother grew up in the trailer courts. In fact, Lorna’s mother still lives there.” His mouth puckered in disapproval. “I think that’s why she buys so many things.”
Skye held her temper. This man badly needed to be taken down a notch, but she still had questions. “Is that so bad? The Ingels certainly can afford it.”
“That’s not what I hear. Lorelei said her parents always fought about money and that Allen claimed Lorna would put them all in the poorhouse.”
“Lorelei sure told you a lot. You must have been close.” Could Kent have been the teacher Lorelei was sleeping with?
He became interested in his glass of wine and shrugged. “No more than any other student.”
Skye decided to let that obvious prevarication slide for the moment. “Do you know the younger daughter, Linette?”
Kent moved back to the lounge chair, leaving Skye sitting at the table by the French doors. “I’ve met her. She’s like Lorelei, but without a conscience.”
“Interesting observations. Perhaps you should have been a psychologist.”
“No offense, but why would anyone want to spend her life listening to other people talk about themselves?” Kent held out his wineglass for a refill.
Skye grabbed the bottle from the table and headed toward the lounge chair in which Kent had flung himself, not noticing that Bingo had chosen to stretch out in the middle of her path. Her foot thudded into something solid, and she pitched forward. She and a shower of wine landed squarely in Kent’s lap.
He sprang up, swearing, and dumped her to the floor. “My trousers! My new trousers.”
That did it. The oaf hadn’t even asked if she were alright. She struggled to her feet. Still no assistance offered by Kent, who was scrubbing the wine stain on the front of his pants with a hand-crocheted lace scarf he had grabbed from the end table. She snatched the doily from his hand and screamed, “This was my grandmother’s, my dead grandmother’s! Don’t you dare use it for a rag.”
Kent look dumbfounded for a moment, then retorted, “Look at my trousers. You’d better hope the dry cleaner can get the stain out or you’ll have to pay for them.”
Skye was about to tell him where he could stick his pants when a thought occurred to her. If she offered to clean them herself, she could go through his pockets and wallet. Maybe there’d be something interesting in them. Men seemed to like to collect trophies of their conquests.
Biting back the words she wanted to speak, Skye said, “Take off your pants, and I’ll see if I can clean them. I have some really good dry-cleaner-strength stain remover.”
Kent, still swearing, disappeared into the bathroom.
Skye checked to see that Bingo was okay, then found a terry robe she’d never worn and pushed it through the bathroom door to Kent. She certainly didn’t want to see him in his Jockeys. He handed her his pants.
She took the offending article of clothing into her tiny utility room. It had space for a washer/dryer and ironing board, but little else. She threw the pants on a small counter and felt around in the pockets. She retrieved a wallet, fifty-six cents in change, a comb, and a handkerchief.
Skye put his personal items aside, and grabbed a bottle from the shelf. After following the directions, which included waiting several minutes for the solution to work, she turned her attention to the wallet. It contained a twenty and two singles, the usual credit cards, insurance identifications, and other paraphernalia.
The most interesting items were tucked away in the “secret” compartment that everyone knows about. There Skye found a very interesting picture of Lorna Ingels dressed in nothing but a teddy and high heels. Aha, here was her proof. Kent was having an affair with a married woman. A woman whose daughter had died under mysterious circumstances.
Where had the photo been taken? Skye squinted. It wasn’t Kent’s apartment. The setting didn’t look like any of Charlie’s cabins, either, but it did have a motel-like look. Must be the Holiday Inn near the highway in Laurel.
What a sleaze. Imagine having sex with your student’s married mom. She tried to stuff the picture back where she had found it, but it wouldn’t go all the way in. Something was in the way.
She dug her fingers into the leather fold and pulled out a much creased piece of pink paper. Skye read:
Yech! Kent was slimier than she’d thought. He had taken advantage of not only the mother, but the daughter, too. The thought of him having sex with one of his students made Skye want to shoot him, or herself, for ever having dated him.
Skye took a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself and decide what to do. Should she confront him? No. That could be dangerous. It was clear Kent could be the father of Lorelei’s baby.
Finally, she decided she would keep everything, and tomorrow morning she would make photocopies, then turn it all over to Wally. Kent was going to pay for his sins.
Right now she had to give the man back his pants, pretend she didn’t know he was lower than a worm’s belly, and break up with him. An awkward situation at best.
“So, Kent, as I was saying, considering everything, it would be best if we didn’t see each other anymore.” Skye tried to get her soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend’s attention long enough to dump him.
He nodded, seemingly mesmerized by the TV screen.
“That means no more dating.” Her eyes strayed to the program that held him enthralled. Three men and a woman sat in a semicircle talking about e-trades, on-line this, and instant that. It sounded like Swahili to Skye.
Skye had emerged from the utility room with Kent’s pants to find him sitting in front of her TV, engrossed in some Channel 11 special about stocks, bonds, and the Internet.
Kent nodded again, and said, “Fine. Good. Just let me catch the end of this.”
She stepped in front of the set and snapped it off.
His head jerked as if she had slapped him and he leaped up from the chair. “What did you do that for?”
“Because I just broke up with you and I want you out of my house. Now.”
“What do you mean? You can’t break up with me. I do the breaking up.”
“Sorry, too late.” Skye grabbed his arm and pulled him to the foyer. She flung open the front door, pushed him outside, and threw his pants after him.
She dusted her hands together. “Good riddance, to bad rubbish.”
CHAPTER 20
Rages of Sin
It was a typical Monday morning. Skye had been late getting to the pool, late finishing her swim, and now she was going to be late for her first appointment.
