Murder of a Creped Suzette

books made it look like a huge confetti balloon had burst.

In the parlor, throw pillows had been chewed and tossed around, and the air swirled with their feathery remains. But by far the worst mess was in the kitchen. Whatever had been on the counter or table was now on the floor. Canisters of flour and sugar had been knocked to the tiles and broken open. Torn tea bags were strewn everywhere, and ribbons of cloth chewed from her pale yellow place mats added a decorative touch. How in the world had a dog less than two feet tall jumped so high and done so much damage?

Following the trail of telltale paw prints, Skye found Toby asleep in the sunroom—right where she had left him the night before. Bits of what might have been her favorite candy-apple-red lace bra adorned his fur. It was obvious that Toby could not be trusted alone while she went to work.

As Skye leaned against the wall, her head spinning from the extent of the demolition, Toby opened one bright brown eye and gave her his best canine smile. Her shoulders slumped. It wasn’t his fault. Yesterday had been traumatic for him, and last night she’d left him alone too long. A bored doggie was a destructive doggie.

When she scooped him up, he yipped excitedly. “Do you need to go outside?” she asked.

He yelped again, and she carried him to the back door. Shoving her feet into a pair of neon orange Crocs, she clipped on his leash and trudged down the back steps. It crossed her mind that if she were to keep Toby, she’d have to have her backyard fenced.

Once his immediate needs were taken care of, the little dog ate his breakfast and settled down for a nap. Hoping he stayed asleep, Skye cleaned up the mess he had made, then hurried upstairs to get ready for work.

After a quick shower, Skye walked into her bedroom just as the radio alarm she’d forgotten to shut off clicked on. As she stood looking into her closet, trying to decide if she could stand to wear yet another pair of black slacks to school, she hummed along with Glen Campbell singing “Galveston.”

The announcer’s voice distracted her from her fashion dilemma. “It’s six o’clock on a beautiful fall Tuesday morning. Today’s temperature will be in the high sixties, with light breezes and sunshine. And all of you will be pleased to hear the high humidity is finally gone.”

Yes! Yes! Yes! Skye grinned. At last it was sweater weather.

As she reached for her zebra-print twinset, the DJ said, “Now for some breaking news. Early yesterday evening, the body of a woman was discovered at the old Hutton dairy farm. This property was recently purchased by Rex Taylor, a music promoter from Nashville, for a country music theater. Mr. Taylor hopes to turn our area into the Branson of Illinois.”

Skye was tempted to cover her ears and sing La la la, but she forced herself to listen to the rest of the report so she’d know exactly what information had been released to the public.

“The police have verified that the victim was found under a large piece of construction machinery, but they refused to provide any further details.” The announcer’s voice deepened. “Murder has not been ruled out.”

When the DJ switched to sports, Skye turned off the radio. Sound bites of athletes mangling the English language drove her crazy.

As she finished dressing, the phone rang. “Morning, darlin’,” Wally greeted her. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yes. Much. Thank you for persuading me to leave last night.” Skye wedged the handset between her shoulder and neck and sat down at her dressing table to apply her makeup. “What time did you get home?”

“Close to midnight.”

“You must be exhausted.” Skye examined the circles under her own eyes and reached for a tube of concealer. “What kept you so long?”

“First it took the techs forever because it was an outdoor crime scene; then we had a hard time locating Rex Taylor, and when we did find him, his wife demanded that she accompany him to the barn. After watching the guy flirt with the female EMT, I can see why Mrs. Taylor insisted on coming with him.”

“Yikes.” Skye stroked taupe eye shadow on her lid. “That couldn’t have gone well.”

“Nope.” Wally’s tone was not amused. “When she saw the body, the idiot woman fainted and her husband made us get the paramedics to take care of her.”

“Was Rex able to ID the body?” Skye asked, almost not wanting to know.

“Yes and no,” Wally answered slowly. “He was able to say for certain that the clothes the victim had on were what Suzette had worn to work that day. And Mrs. Taylor identified a necklace on the body as Suzette’s. But to be absolutely certain we’ll have to wait for DNA tests. When the techs went through her room at the motor court, they picked up her toothbrush and razor for comparison DNA samples.”

“But for investigation purposes, you’re going with Suzette, right?”

“Yes,” Wally confirmed. “No one else is missing from the staff.”

“Did you get a chance to ask about Toby?” Skye crossed her fingers. Please, please, please, she begged silently. She really wanted to be able to hand the dog over to his rightful owner on her way to work.

“Yep. He was Suzette’s all right.” Wally paused, then said, “Did she mention any relatives when she talked to you the other night?”

“None that are living.”

“Son of a b—!” Wally cut himself off. “Mr. and Mrs. Taylor have no idea who her next of kin might be, and no emergency contact is listed on her employment records.”

“What will you do next?” Skye checked her watch. She really needed to get off the phone with Wally so she could start looking for someone to take care of Toby.

“We’ll talk to her colleagues, do a background check—you know, the usual. What time will you be finished today?”

“I should be able to leave by three thirty. Why?” Skye asked.

“Because I need to get your formal statement. Come straight to the station, okay?”

“Sure.” Skye bit her lip. “Uh, do you think maybe Mr. or Mrs. Taylor would want Suzette’s dog?” She thought fast. “I mean, if she brought Toby to work, they might be attached to him.”

“Not a chance.” Wally snorted. “Mrs. Taylor called him a disgusting mutt.”

“Shoot.”

“What are you going to do with him?”

“I don’t know.” Skye had counted on someone connected with Suzette claiming him. “I guess, for now, I’ll keep him. At least until the case is closed or we find a member of Suzette’s family.”

“If we find her next of kin, they may not want him.” Wally’s voice was gentle. “Not everyone is as willing to take in strays as you are.”

“I’ll deal with that when the time comes.” Skye checked her watch again. “Hey—sorry to cut you off, but I’ve got to get going. I’ll see you this afternoon.”

“Bye, sugar.”

As soon as she hung up, she remembered the message from the night before. Should she call Wally back? No. If it was that important, last night’s caller could have phoned Wally directly. Besides, she had to find a dog sitter ASAP.

Geez! Skye couldn’t believe she wasn’t able to think of anyone to take care of Toby. Her first choices—Trixie, Loretta, and Vince—all worked, as did all of her friends. She briefly considered Frannie Ryan, Justin Boward, and Xenia Craughwell, recent high school grads with whom she had remained close, but they were attending college or film school classes.

A fellow animal lover, her father would have been ideal. Too bad Jed was at an estate sale hoping to buy an old grain truck for cheap. Her godfather, Charlie Patu-kas, owner and manager of the Up A Lazy River Motor Court, was also gone for the day—in Joliet, buying new mattresses for the cottages.

Skye’s mother, who should have been the next logical choice, would have a hissy fit when she learned Skye had taken the dog. May would tell her to give him to Animal Control. It didn’t feel right asking her aunts or cousins for a favor. Skye just didn’t have that kind of relationship with any of them—especially considering the very real possibility that Toby might destroy their houses as he had hers.

Which left Owen. Trixie’s husband would make a perfect canine nanny. He worked at home, liked dogs, and wouldn’t be overly upset if Toby chewed up his possessions. There was only one—all right, two—problems. First, Skye felt a little awkward talking to him after the incident at the concert last Saturday, and second, Trixie must have already left for work, because no one was answering the phone at the Frayne residence.