Murder of a Royal Pain

“Because my father’s going to kill me.”

“Do I want to know why?” One advantage to Frannie’s being out of high school was that Skye didn’t have to worry about doing the right thing as Frannie’s school psychologist. Instead, she could be the girl’s friend.

“Probably not, but since I need you to tell Dad for me, you have no choice.”

“What do you need me to tell him?” Warning bells were sounding in Skye’s head. “And why can’t you tell him yourself?”

“Because he won’t yell at you, and by the time he sees me, he’ll have calmed down.”

“Your father is about the calmest man I know.” Sometimes Skye wondered if Xavier had a pulse. If she hadn’t seen him out in the sunlight, she would have sworn he was a vampire.

“That’s the problem.” Frannie leaned forward. “He never gets mad, so when he does, it’s worse than if he did it all the time.”

Skye could understand that—she hated dealing with people who stuffed all their emotions down deep inside them, then blew like Mount Saint Helens once they finally let go—but she still wasn’t going be the one to tell Xavier Frannie’s bad news.

“Your dad loves you more than life itself,” Skye reassured Frannie. “It must be something pretty terrible if you think he’ll go nuts.”

She tried to imagine all the things an eighteen-year-old girl could say to her dad that would cause him to have a meltdown. Pregnancy? Eek! That would be bad in so many ways. What else? Had she wrecked the car? No, Frannie didn’t have a vehicle at school. That left only one possibility.

“Tell me you’re not quitting college,” Skye pleaded. “You’ve only been there a month.”

“But I hate it.” Frannie’s bottom lip quivered. “I don’t have any friends, and the classes are a lot harder than high school. I’ve never gotten lower than an A-minus in my life, but I got a D on my first biology test.”

“Give it time. Now that you realize it’s harder, you’ll study more and bring up that grade. And, once you find the right group, you’ll make friends. Remember, it took you a while in high school, too.” Skye scooted her chair closer to Frannie’s. “Hey, I just thought of something. My sorority, Alpha Sigma Alpha, has a chapter at Loyola. Maybe you could go through rush and—”

“Get real,” Frannie cut her off. “No sorority will invite me to pledge. Those peroxide monsters don’t want someone my size in their house. I’m guessing you looked different in college than you do now.”

“Yeah,” Skye joked, “I looked about a hundred years younger.” At Frannie’s disappointed expression she quickly added, “Okay. Yes, I was thinner, but ASA isn’t like that. We’re more concerned about personality and values and a good fit with the other sisters.”

Frannie grunted, then exhaled in a long whoosh of air. Her expression clearly stated that she thought Skye was hopelessly out of touch with reality.

“Really.” Skye tried to convince the girl. “And I could put in a good word for you.”

Frannie bit her lip. “It’s not only the grades and the friends. . . .”

“Then what?”

“I miss it here. I hate the city. I thought I’d love it, but I’m scared all the time. We’ve been told not to even walk to the library by ourselves. Besides, I miss my dad and Justin and you.”

“Oh. But your scholarship . . .” Skye wasn’t sure how to respond. She wasn’t all that fond of the city either, but she’d lived in one for more than a month before making that judgment. And if Frannie dropped out of Loyola, she’d be giving up a full ride. Could Xavier afford tuition somewhere else? “It’s just that opportunities are never lost; someone will take the ones you miss.”

Frannie shrugged.

Skye tried again. “I guess all I’m saying is, you might want to give it a little more time before you make such a big decision.”

Frannie shrugged again, then said, “Could you just call my dad?”

CHAPTER 12

Got to Be There

It took forever to track down Xavier. It was nearly one o’clock in the morning before he arrived to pick up Frannie, and after two when the father and daughter finally drove off together. Then, before going to bed, Skye made the mistake of checking her answering machine.

The first message was from Wally, a terse, “There’s still no word on why my father collapsed.” A pause. “You need to check your cell. I keep getting a busy signal. Talk to you tomorrow.”

Shoot! A busy signal? What was wrong with her cell phone?

The second call was from Vince. His voice sounded funny, but all he said was, “I need to talk to you. I’ll stop by when I get done with work tomorrow.”

Afterward, Skye lay in bed staring at the ceiling. She took turns picking at the various worries in her life as if they were scabs. First, there was Wally’s father. Was he okay? How would Wally handle it if he wasn’t?

Next, her thoughts turned to the murder. Was Annette really the target, and would Quirk be able to solve the case? What if the killer had really been after Skye or one of the other witches? Would he try again?

Then there was Frannie’s decision to quit college. Would she truly drop out? Did she plan to go somewhere else? And if she didn’t, would she end up working dead-end jobs for the rest of her life?

Last, there was Vince’s mysterious message. What could be wrong with her brother?

It was nearly dawn before Skye fell asleep, and she didn’t wake up until after one thirty in the afternoon. As she sipped a cup of Earl Grey tea, she turned the radio on to WSRE—the voice of Scumble River. Annette’s mysterious death dominated the local news.

Shit! She wasn’t surprised the information was out so quickly, but Kurt had better not have been the one to leak the story. Now the murderer knew the identity of his victim. If Annette hadn’t been his intended target, his real quarry was now in danger.

Skye ate a handful of dry cereal. She really had to go to the grocery store. She’d better call Trixie to see if her friend could give her a ride to the old American Legion hall to pick up her car. But first she needed to talk to Wally.

While she got dressed, she punched in his number. It immediately went to voice mail, and she left a message for him to get in touch with her as soon as he could.

Next she dialed Trixie, whose first words were, “Why do I always miss all the excitement?”

“Yeah. Right.” Skye snorted. “It’s oh, so much fun wandering around a haunted house tripping over dead bodies.”

Trixie ignored Skye’s statement and peppered her with questions.

Skye finally managed to say, “Give me a ride to my car, and I’ll tell you everything.”

Once Skye explained why her car was at the American Legion hall, Trixie said, “I’ll be right over.”

Fifteen minutes later, Skye met Trixie in the driveway, and as she hopped into her friend’s Civic, Trixie demanded, “Spill.”

“You really had to be there.” Skye buckled her seat belt. “Last night was one of the worst, the longest, and the most bizarre nights of my life.”

Clearly unsatisfied with Skye’s answer, Trixie said, “That’s the point. I wasn’t there. So tell me already.”

“I guess it all started when Justin told me about the ghosts.”

“Oh, my God!” Trixie squealed. “This is even better than I thought.”

Skye filled her friend in, concluding with, “Anyway, after the police let us go, guess who was waiting in the parking lot for me?”

“Simon.”

“No. He had to go with the body. The new reporter in town, Kurt Michaels.”

“Oh, he’s a hunk. I hope you were nice to him.”

Skye described their conversation and drive home. “Don’t you think that was odd?”

“He’s definitely hiding something. Maybe he’s an FBI agent.”

“Investigating what?” Skye snickered. “Illegal haunted houses?”

They both laughed.