Like Skye, Vince was not much of a drinker, but today he rummaged under her sink and grabbed a bottle of tequila that had been left over from a party last fall. “Got any lime?”
Skye nodded. She liked lime with her Diet Coke, and still had a couple in the crisper drawer, although they were past their prime. As she sliced one, Vince got down a pair of shot glasses from the cupboard over the stove, blew the dust out of them, and sat at the table.
Skye joined him, putting the bowl of lime quarters in front of him. He poured the liquor into the glasses and pushed one over to Skye. Vince squeezed lime juice onto the side of his hand, added salt from the shaker on the table, and licked, then downed the entire contents of the shot glass in one gulp.
Skye tried to frame the right question, but Vince broke the silence first, saying in a raw, hurt voice, “Loretta dumped me last night.”
“What?” It was the last thing Skye had expected to hear. She wouldn’t have been surprised if Vince had been the dumper, but her handsome brother was rarely, if ever, the dumpee.
“She said we just aren’t right for each other. We have different goals, different dreams.”
“Maybe she meant you aren’t serious. Are you? Serious, I mean, about her?”
He poured another shot and stared at the golden liquid before answering, “Maybe.”
“Did you tell her that?”
“Not exactly.”
“What exactly did you tell her?” Skye knew Vince was fairly verbal for a guy, but he was still a guy. “What is the basis of your relationship with her?”
He shrugged. “We didn’t talk about that.”
“Do you want to have a serious, maybe-leading-to-marriage, relationship with Loretta?”
Vince half nodded, then shook his head. “It’s no use. What she really meant was that she’s an important criminal attorney and I do hair for a living. Her family is rich and powerful, and ours is blue-collar. The only place we have any influence is in a town of three thousand people.”
“Loretta’s not like that.”
“I knew you’d take her side.”
“I’m not taking her side, but she is my friend and I know what she’s like.” Skye put her hand over Vince’s, stopping him from taking another drink. “But you’re my brother. I’ll always be on your side.”
“Well, she’s made up her mind.” Despair and anger were mixed in his voice. “And there’s nothing I can do about it.” He slumped back in his chair.
Skye wondered if she should try to speak to Loretta. Probably not. At least, not if she wanted to keep their friendship intact. Still, maybe just a friendly call to say hi might be in order.
Vince threw back another shot of tequila, wiped his mouth, and said, “Let’s talk about something else.”
“Okay.” Skye moved the liquor bottle out of her brother’s reach. “But no more of this.”
“So.” Vince tipped his chair so he was balanced on the two back legs. “What’s this I hear about you and Wally breaking up?”
CHAPTER 13
These Are the Times
“What?” Without thinking, Skye picked up the glass in front of her and downed the contents. The straight tequila burned like liquid fire. Choking, she gasped, “Where . . . did . . . you . . . hear . . . that?”
“All the Saturday regulars were talking about it today.” Vince dropped his chair back down on all four legs, stretched across the table, grabbed the bottle of booze, and poured himself and Skye another shot.
Vince’s regulars were the ladies that still got their hair “done” every week. Most wore styles that had been all the rage in the fifties and sixties, when poodle cuts, beehives, and the ever-popular bouffant were considered cutting-edge. Colors ranged from pure white to ash blond, with the occasional blue rinse for extra-special occasions. These women were the Internet of Scumble River. They had invented a form of instant messaging long before Skye and Vince were born.
“You’d think they’d be talking about Annette Paine’s murder, not me,” Skye snapped once she stopped coughing.
“They had plenty of time for both.” Vince smirked. “Besides, they find you more interesting than a dead body.”
“Great.”
“The radio didn’t say it was murder. How do you know so much?” Vince demanded.
Skye explained her involvement, then asked, “What did your regulars say about Wally and me?” Could Wally have broken up with her behind her back? How would he do that? Did he take out an ad in the
“When Sally stopped by the police station yesterday to bring her son, Anthony, his supper, Thea told her that Wally up and left town last night without giving them any warning. She also informed Sally that Quirk claims he is under orders not to tell anyone where the chief was going or why he left or how long he’d be gone.”
Skye felt her heart start again. “I know where Wally is and why he’s there. And I certainly understand his desire not to have the whole town know his business. Just because he had to go out of town doesn’t mean we broke up. How do people come up with this stuff?”
“Search me.” Vince twitched his shoulders. “But Masie, the waitress at the diner out on the interstate—you know, the place with the homemade pies—blabbed to Hilda this morning while they were both waiting for their prescriptions to be filled at Bate’s Pharmacy that late last night when she was coming home from work, she saw
“It wasn’t that late,” Skye protested. “After the police let us all go, he drove me home. He stopped the car to ask me a few questions, hoping to get a story for the paper. We were there all of two minutes. Nothing happened.”
“Hey.” Vince put his hands up. “I believe you. I’m only warning you what’s going around town.”
“Thank God Mom is in Vegas.”
“Like no one called her.” Vince grinned. “You can be sure one of her friends—Hester or Maggie or Aunt Kitty, or maybe all three—has let her know about it by now.”
If that were true, Skye could only hope May was on a winning streak at the slot mchines, or her mother would be on the next flight home. In any case, she vowed to screen her calls. She was not talking to her mother until Wally was back home and the rumors had died down.
“You haven’t heard the best part yet.” Vince’s good humor appeared to have returned.
Skye cringed. Nothing like seeing his sister in trouble to cheer up her brother. “What?”
“Miss Letitia said that while she was at the podiatrist’s office this morning to get her toenails trimmed—she has that awful fungus—Priscilla Van Horn, who was there for her bunions, told Miss Letitia that Wally was seeing Annette Paine on the sly. Priscilla said she heard that Annette told you about the affair and you threatened to leave Wally. So Wally killed Annette for ruining his life. Then he left town to avoid being arrested, and you were so distraught that you spent the night with Kurt Michaels.”
“Good Lord! These women should be writing for the tabloids.”
“Yeah. But you did dump Simon, and before the sofa cushion had cooled off, you took up with Wally.”
“Shit! Shit!
“Yes. You are in deep doo-doo.”
“This is so unfair,” Skye whined. “How many women have you inked in, then a few weeks later crossed out of your little black book? And no one talks about you like this.”
“Hey, it’s not my fault there’s a different set of rules for men and women in small towns like Scumble River.” Vince shrugged. “Get over it. You need to do something about these rumors ASAP.”
