Murder of a Bookstore Babe

“Hell, no!” Flip smacked the arm of his recliner, causing the can of beer in the built-in holder to tremble. “I wouldn’t work for that woman again if she paid double, triple, golden overtime.”

“Rise was hard to work for?” Skye asked innocently, not letting on how much she knew. “I’m surprised her husband didn’t handle the remodeling.”

“He never showed his face. I guess he was too busy baking. And she was a bitch on wheels.” Flip banged down the footrest of his chair. “Then after all the crap I took from her, she tried to stiff me.”

“She wouldn’t pay?”

“She wanted me to take a personal check.” Flip was a big, hulking man, and when he marched over to the coffee table where Ginger had tossed the remote control, the floor shook. “But I told her if it’s not from a local bank, I need cash.”

He resembled the massive stuffed bear that guarded a corner of the family room, and Skye stared at his hands as he fondled the remote. “Did she agree?” Skye asked. His fingers were as large as full-size Snickers bars.

“No. She got all snippy, and I had to tell her I wouldn’t sign off for the building inspection without my money.” Flip stomped back to his La-Z-Boy.

“What happened?” Skye wondered whether Rise thought Flip wouldn’t accept her check because he was planning to cheat on his taxes. The bookstore owner struck her as someone who wouldn’t put up with someone defrauding the government.

“She told me to come back the next morning, which I did, and she had the dough.” He flopped down on the recliner, chugged the rest of his beer, crushed the can when he finished, then turned the TV’s sound back on.

“So you were paid?”

“Yeah. We’re square.”

“That’s good.” Phew! As long as he got his money, Flip didn’t have much of a motive to want Rise dead. It wasn’t as if he had to work for her ever again. He wasn’t a complex enough person to hold that kind of grudge. Now all she needed was his alibi.

“Ginger”—Skye turned to her cousin—“your mom said you and Flip went to a big party Saturday night.” She decided to try a variation of the same ruse that had worked with Kevin. “Did you have a good time?”

“It was all right for a class reunion.” Ginger tucked a strand of baby-fine dishwater blond hair behind her ear. “You know how those are. Heck, we see the people we like all the time, and no one from out of town ever shows up, even though this was our big one-five.”

“Yeah. That’s a shame.” Skye hadn’t attended her ten-year reunion, and her class hadn’t had another one. “Where was it held?”

“The Brown Bag.” Ginger picked up an emery board and started filing her nails. “It would have been more fun at the rec club. We could have built a big bonfire and brought our own booze, which would have been a whole lot cheaper, but the committee wouldn’t listen to me. They wanted it all fancy, but Jess kicked us out at two.”

Jess Larson owned the Brown Bag Liquor Store, Bar, and Banquet Hall.

“Two a.m.?”

“Uh-huh.” Ginger nodded. “He said something about not being able to serve drinks after that.”

“And Flip was with you the whole time?”

“Yeah.” Ginger scowled. “Believe me, with all those divorcees on the prowl, I never let him out of my sight.”

Once she knew Flip had an alibi, Skye made her excuses and rushed to the skating rink. It was a few minutes after seven when she arrived, and Wally was already there. He flashed his lights to show her where he was parked, and she pulled into the spot next to him. The lot was packed, and she wondered how he’d saved the space. If he’d been driving one of the police cruisers, she could understand no one wanting to be beside him, but he had his blue Thunderbird—a fortieth birthday present from his father.

Wally and Skye met in front of their vehicles, and he held her at arm’s length, then gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Spiffy outfit.”

“Swell.” Skye grinned. The skating rink must have brought the fifties to both their minds. “You know I always think you look hot.”

“Why, thank you, darlin’.” Wally steered them through the lot and onto the sidewalk. “I ran home and changed clothes after the commissioners’ meeting. If we take a tumble while we’re skating, I didn’t think it would look too good to do it in uniform.”

“True.” Skye smiled. “But we’re not going to fall.” Wally didn’t know she’d been roller-skating champion of her eighth-grade class.

The exterior of the skate center looked different at night. The last time Skye had seen the rink, she’d wondered whether it was about to be torn down. Now shadows hid the peeling paint and hinted at what the building could look like if Milton was able to restore it fully. A shaft of light from the fixture above the front door illuminated the entrance.

Leaves blew over the sidewalk, making it slippery, and Wally steadied Skye as her foot slid. “Did you talk to everyone who was mad at Rise?” Wally held one of the double glass doors open.

“All except Hugo.” Skye stepped into the foyer. “Charlie, Tomi, Kevin, and Flip all have alibis.”

“Martinez isn’t finished with the background check on Rise, but so far she’s clean as a whistle. The woman hasn’t even had a parking ticket.”

“Did Officer Martinez find anything on Kayla?” Skye asked.

“Nothing we didn’t already know.” Wally shrugged. “She’s exactly what you’d expect of a small-town good girl. No one had anything bad to say about her, and the dean at the Chicago School of Film and Photography spoke highly of her. He said she’d already won a couple of competitions.”

“I wonder if the other students were jealous.” They stopped at the entrance to the rink.

“Martinez is going up there tomorrow to check that out.”

Skye nodded, then looked around. Milton had refinished the floor, laid new carpet, put in a drop ceiling, and installed nightclub lighting. Tables and chairs were positioned behind the rail, and a snack bar was located in the rear.

“If you two are through making your grand entrance, maybe you could get the hell out of the way so someone else could get in.”

“What’s your rush?” Wally’s voice was genial, but he gripped Skye’s arm and didn’t move.

Skye turned and saw that the person trying to get around them was—speak of the devil—her cousin Hugo. He held his wife’s hand tightly, and Victoria didn’t seem happy.

“Some of us have other places to be tonight and need to keep moving,” Hugo sneered. “Unlike the police, we don’t get a salary if we don’t hustle.”

Wally patted his flat stomach. “That’s right. They pay me to sit around and eat donuts.” After making sure Hugo got the message, he drew Skye aside and made a sweeping gesture. “Be my guest.”

Victoria muttered as she went past. “Some of us don’t need to make a big deal in order to draw all eyes to us.”

Huh? Skye had no idea where that had that come from. Victoria had almost sounded jealous, but that couldn’t be it. She looked like a goddess. Smooth blond hair fell straight to the middle of her back, blue eyes shone from a sun-kissed complexion, and the short indigo halter dress she wore molded to her slim, toned body.

Once Hugo and his wife were out of earshot, Skye said to Wally, “I used to feel sorry for Victoria—Hugo’s one of the most insufferable men I know. But she just lost a lot of my sympathy.”

“Don’t be too hard on her.” Wally took Skye’s hand and ran his fingers over her inner wrist. “It’s hard for someone like her, who has always gotten along on her looks, to realize that sometimes that’s not enough.”

“What do you mean?”

“Victoria doesn’t think you’re as beautiful as she is, but you get in the paper all the time, and now that you’re engaged, that’s all anyone can talk about.”

“Not really.”

“Yes, really.” Wally kissed her palm.

“You know, Hugo didn’t seem quite like himself tonight.” Skye frowned.