bed had other benefits. But he had been even more worn-out than she was, and since she had an early meeting at school the next day, she hadn’t wanted to disturb him at five a.m. when she got up.
Sighing, she flipped over onto her back, laced her fingers behind her head, and stared at the ceiling. The problem with this case was that they weren’t sure what the intended crime had been. Was it a burglary gone bad, or had the criminal been intent on murder? And if that was the case, who was the intended victim? Charlie seemed certain that if anyone had given someone a motive for murder, it had been Rise.
Monday, as Skye pulled into the high school parking lot, a red Hummer roared past her and squealed to a stop in the no-parking zone at the front entrance. The driver hopped out of the vehicle and hurried to the door, where he repeatedly jabbed the intercom button. All schools were kept tightly locked down since 9/11. Too bad the only people inconvenienced were the staff and the parents, as evidenced by the unending spate of school violence. The bad guys got inside no matter what precautions were taken.
The Hummer driver looked somewhat familiar. Who would be there more than an hour before classes started? Oh, yeah. Now she remembered. He was the magazine sales rep. Scumble River High had decided to sell magazines for its annual December fund-raiser. She wondered how many subscriptions the kids would talk her into buying.
As she got out of the car, a warm breeze blew across her face, and she smiled. It had been a nice fall so far. The temps had been in the high seventies, with lots of sunshine and no sign of an early winter. She crossed her fingers that the weather would continue to be warmer than usual and that it would snow only a couple of inches on Christmas Eve and melt completely away by New Year’s Day.
After pushing her windblown hair out of her eyes, she grabbed her purse and tote bag, then strode across the asphalt and used her key to get inside. Homer Knapik, the high school principal, was standing in the school’s foyer, his gaze fastened on the door. He was squarely built with an excess of body hair and a permanent frown. He reminded Skye of Bigfoot with a bunion.
As soon as he caught sight of Skye, he boomed, “You. In my office immediately!”
He shut the door and marched over to the coffee machine on the credenza beneath the window. Homer had been the principal at the high school for as long as most people could remember. In fact, he’d been there when Skye was a student, which made the whole colleague/ equal-footing relationship a bit hard to pull off.
For the last couple of years Homer had been threatening to retire, but much to the disappointment of his staff, those had been empty promises. The teachers were convinced that even if Homer died, the board would just stuff and mount him in the chair behind his desk. If that happened, Skye was pretty sure no one would be able to tell the difference, at least as far as the running of the school went.
Without turning around, Homer barked, “I heard you found another stiff.”
“That stiff, as you so eloquently put it, was one of our students not too long ago”—Skye’s voice was rebuking—“so I’d appreciate it if you referred to her in a respectful manner.” Skye wasn’t good at standing up for herself, but she didn’t let anyone denigrate the kids, even after they were dead.
“Don’t take that holier-than-thou tone with me.” Homer faced her, holding a steaming cup. “When you’ve been around here as long as I have, see if you’re still so protective of the little brats.”
Skye paused. Changing Homer’s mind was probably impossible, but she’d keep after him about how he treated the students.
Her lack of response seemed to irritate him, and he moved on to another complaint. “What are you, some kind of pied piper for the dead? When you walk through a cemetery, do the corpses rise up and follow you?”
“Are you nuts?” Skye was beginning to worry about Homer’s sanity. “No one outside of a horror novel can do that.”
“Everything I say can be entirely validated by my own opinion.”
Skye kept her expression neutral. There was no way to respond to a statement like that. Heck, she wasn’t even sure what he’d actually said.
“What do they call your affliction, anyway?” the principal jabbed at Skye.
“I’d tell you, Homer, but it’s too hard for you to pronounce. And you don’t have to worry. Someone like you certainly can’t catch it.”
“Are you being smart with me?” He slammed his cup down on the desktop, hot liquid sloshing over the sides.
“Of course not.” Skye barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes.
“I’ve told you before”—Homer’s tone was that of a salesman speaking to an unreasonable customer—“I want you to quit finding corpses.”
“Okay.” They’d had this conversation before, and it never ended well. It was hard to defend yourself against an accusation you were afraid might be true. “I’ll put that on my to-do list.”
“That’s what you said last time.” The hair growing out of his nose bristled. “But you did it again.”
“And how do you suggest I carry out your order?” Skye was trying to remain calm, but he was starting to seriously tick her off. Did he think she got a bounty for every victim she found?
“Staying out of police investigations would be a good start.” Homer’s face turned a mottled red. “Quit poking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”
“You are aware that I was hired to consult for the police department?” Skye knew he was, because although her school contract allowed her to moonlight, it stipulated that she inform the principals and the school board, which she’d done.
“Everyone knows the only reason you got that gig was because the chief was hot for you.” Homer plunked into his chair, which groaned in protest. “Now that you’re engaged to him, give the man a break and stop interfering.”
“I do not interfere.” Skye refused to let someone who resembled a Yeti disparage the assistance she provided the police. “I help.”
Homer snorted. “Quit finding dead bodies. Quit finding murderers. Quit bugging the crap out of me.” Homer pointed a hairy finger at her. “Do what we pay you for.”
“What are you talking about?” Skye always got her work finished, even when it meant staying late and taking reports home to finish. “What haven’t I done?”
“Straightened out Pru Cormorant.” Homer pretended to search for something in a drawer, not looking at Skye when he muttered, “She’s gone a little off.”
“So, what’s new?” Skye retorted. “She’s been past her sell-by date for years.”
The English teacher had been at Scumble River High for as long as Homer had and was a law unto herself. Every once in a while she did something so atrocious that Homer was forced to take some action, like the time she wrote on a report card,
Unfortunately, Homer usually delegated the task of doing something about Pru to Skye. This was the beginning of Skye’s sixth year at Scumble River High and at least the third time Homer had ordered her to “fix” Pru.
“She’s got her panties in a bunch over that new bookshop.” Homer pushed a clipboard across his desktop to Skye. “She wants the whole school to sign this petition and boycott the store.” He turned his back. “You’ve got to get her under control.”
Skye cringed. “That isn’t
Homer ignored Skye and continued, “Worse yet, she’s already sent petitions home to some parents. I’ve been getting calls all weekend asking if what Corny is saying is true and wanting to know what the school is doing about this matter.”
“I discussed this with her last Friday.” Skye pushed the clipboard back toward Homer. “There’s absolutely no merit to her accusation that the bookstore is selling porn or books advocating devil worship.”
“And this was all before that girl was killed in the break-in.” Homer’s two oversize front teeth gnawed on his bottom lip. “I hear now Corny is claiming the wild animals they keep as pets are really the reason for the murder. Which doesn’t even make sense.”
“Holy moly.” And Skye had thought nothing Pru did could surprise her. “That’s ridiculous. The ‘wild animals’
