Murder of a Bookstore Babe

“I’m surprised that you, a psychologist”—Pru’s face had her tsk-tsk look on it —“aren’t aware of the danger posed by those kinds of books.”

“‘Danger?’” The word slipped out. Skye did not like where this conversation was going, and she shouldn’t have allowed herself to be sucked in.

Pru’s tongue snaked out as if she was about to sample a tasty morsel. “I heard that over in Clay Center some boy bit his mother in the neck and tried to suck her blood out after reading some of those vampire books.”

“Really?” If that had actually happened, Skye was sure she would have heard about it. After all, she was the police department’s psychological consultant, and her mother was a police dispatcher. “Who told you that?”

Pru puffed out her cheeks. “I don’t remember.” Her irritation with Skye for daring to question her was obvious. “What does it matter?”

“Rumors can be so harmful,” Skye said evenly. “I just like to make sure my source is reliable before I believe what I hear.”

“Well”—Pru sent a quelling look in Skye’s direction—“I also heard that a girl in Brooklyn sacrificed her baby after reading some book that glorified witchcraft.”

“Now, that’s totally unbelievable.” Skye shook her head. “Surely that would have made the paper, not to mention the TV news.”

Pru leaned forward and whispered, “I hear it was hushed up.”

“By whom?”

“I’m sure I couldn’t say.” Pru got up from the sofa. “Everyone knows I never gossip.”

Skye nearly choked on a suppressed “Ha!” but managed to keep her expression neutral.

“Anyway, I’ve started a petition,” Pru went on, “and I expect you to sign it.” She paused. “Unless, of course, you don’t care about our kids.”

Skye refused to be cornered. “This weekend, I’ll talk to the owners and find out what kinds of books they’ll be selling and to what age groups. I’ll let you know Monday after school what I find out.”

“Now”—Pru glanced pointedly at Skye—“unlike you, I have to get back to my classroom. The bell is about to ring, and the little darlings might burn down the building if they’re left unattended.”

Skye stared at the door after Pru Cormorant’s departure, then turned and cut an extra-big slice of birthday cake. After what she’d just been through, she deserved it. Besides, if Pru planned to stir up trouble for the new bookstore, Skye would need all her strength to make sure the school’s queen bee didn’t sic her swarm of drones on the defenseless owners before they even had a chance to open for business.

CHAPTER 2

The Sound and the Fury

Skye watched as her cousin Hugo Leofanti, owner of Better Than New Autos, stood in his showroom extolling the virtues of a 1999 Ford Escort to Xenia Craughwell. Xenia and her mother had moved to town a little more than two years ago, after the teenager had been kicked out of several suburban schools. Much to Skye’s relief, despite a rocky start, which included kidnapping a cheerleader and involving the school newspaper in a lawsuit, Xenia had managed to graduate from Scumble River High last fall.

Although Xenia had written for the Scoop, and Skye supervised the student paper, they had not been close. Xenia had rebuffed Skye’s attempts to build a relationship and had used her incredibly high IQ to keep all the adults in the school at arm’s length. Even Trixie, the paper’s beloved coadviser, hadn’t been able to break through the girl’s defenses.

Which was why Skye had been so surprised when Xenia showed up in her office that afternoon and asked for assistance in buying a car. Skye had hesitated, wondering what Xenia was up to, but the knowledge that Xenia’s father was dead and her mom acted more like a girlfriend than a parent had compelled Skye to accompany the teen. Now that she was here, Skye wasn’t exactly sure what her role was supposed to be. Xenia wasn’t one to take advice or need help in making a decision.

Skye had been able to convince Hugo to show them around personally, rather than handing them over to a member of his sales staff, but already she was regretting that impulse. She had forgotten how ruthless and underhanded her cousin could be, and she was afraid he’d take advantage of Xenia’s youth and inexperience.

Flashing deep dimples, Hugo said to Xenia as he led her and Skye out of the building, “Let’s get you into a car.”

The early-September sun beat down on the windshields of vehicles parked along Basin Street, Scumble River’s main drag. Other than the empty road, there wasn’t much else to see. Ye Olde Junque Emporium was the only other business open within a two- or three-block radius.

Hugo directed them to a space a few doors down containing a small rusty hatchback with yellow block letters spelling out EZ TERMS on a side window. Skye frowned but kept silent. She’d decided to intervene only if Xenia requested her opinion, and that was about as likely as the government truly reducing taxes or really fixing the health care system.

Xenia walked around the Ford. “How many miles does this . . . this thing have on it?”

“This luxury automobile only has a hundred and ten thousand,” Hugo answered smoothly, then added, “You mentioned that you’re attending film school in Chicago and need transportation for the commute. This baby has a spacious interior and gets incredible mileage. And I can let you have her for only four thousand dollars. Let me tell you about the previous owner.”

Skye studied Hugo as he talked. Her cousin had been fortunate when he took a dip in the gene pool. He had gotten a long, lean body from his mother’s side of the family and a thick black mane and the Leofanti eyes from his father’s. If it had been the other way around, he would have ended up short, with thinning dishwater blond hair. His dad, Skye’s uncle Dante, looked a lot liked a penguin; Hugo would have probably resembled a bowling pin.

Skye had the Leofanti emerald eyes, too, but that was where the similarity ended. While Skye’s shone with genuineness, Hugo’s glittered with insincerity. Although he oozed charm, he was good at masking his true thoughts. This was an advantage in his chosen profession, but it did not make him trustworthy.

Xenia broke in on Hugo’s sales spiel. “Seriously, dude, fuel economy may be important, but I’m carpooling with another girl from town, so it’s not totally the deciding factor. There’s also acceleration and quality of the ride.” She angled her pierced brow contemptuously. “By the way, FYI, four thousand is double what this piece of crap is worth, and even at a quarter of the price it would probably come back and bite me.”

Hugo’s expression subtly changed, and Skye felt her lips twitch. Clearly, he had looked at Xenia, outfitted in her usual Goth-punk sex-kitten attire, and thought she was an airhead on whom he could pull a fast one. He was wising up quickly.

Skye could understand her cousin’s misconception. Today Xenia had on a short ruffled skirt, leggings that ended midcalf, and a pair of Doc Martens. She had layered several ripped T-shirts, all of which exposed the gold ring in her navel. A multitude of bangle bracelets worn on top of fishnet gloves on both arms completed her fashion statement. White skin and the fuchsia stripe in her hair at the temple were the only contrasts to the unrelieved black of her clothing.

“What else do you have?” Xenia shaded her eyes and looked down the line of vehicles parked on either side of the dealership. “You gotta turn it up a notch from this.” She thumped the Escort’s trunk. “I want something sick.”

Hugo glanced questioningly at Skye, who mouthed the word cool.

Hugo recovered quickly. “I know just the car for you. A Volkswagen Beetle. It’s hip and gets great mileage.” He guided Xenia and Skye by their elbows. “I was saving this for Dr. Zello’s daughter—she’s turning sixteen next month—but since you’re a friend of my cousin, I’ll let you have first crack at it.”

“Awesome.” Xenia rolled her eyes at Skye but allowed herself to be propelled across the road to a line of vehicles parked along the curb.

“What do you think?” Hugo stopped beside a tiny yellow car that looked like an upside-down coffee cup. The lettering on its windshield read, SUPER DEAL. “She even has a cute little flower holder near the driver’s seat.”

“Dude, do I look like a flower kinda girl to you?” Xenia shook her head but inspected every inch of the finish, then repeated the process with the interior. Finally she asked, “What year is it?”