too.
With the animals fed and behaving themselves, Skye fetched the groceries from the foyer and said to Wally, “How about making a tossed salad while I cook the salmon?”
“Sure.” Wally took off his gun belt, unknotted his tie and slid it out from under his collar, then draped both over the back of a chair. “There. That’s better.”
Skye noticed he appeared years younger as he shed the accoutrements of his job. Smiling, she promised herself that later she’d get him out of the rest of his uniform.
Once the meal was ready, Skye asked Wally, “Can you open a bottle of wine for me, please?”
“You’re drinking?” Wally’s tone was quizzical. Skye rarely drank on a school night.
“Yep. It’s been that kind of day.” Skye gathered the plates, cutlery, napkins, and stemware. “Let’s eat in the sunroom.”
“Okay.” Wally followed her, carrying the salad and merlot. After they were settled on the wicker settee, Wally poured them each a glass of wine.
They were both hungry, and ate in silence for the first ten minutes. Finally, they spoke at once.
“I forgot—” Skye said.
And Wally said, “So, what I—”
“You first.” Skye waved her hand in his direction, put down her fork, and leaned back. “You’ve been trying to tell me something for the past twenty-four hours and I can’t stand the suspense any longer.”
Wally chugged the rest of his merlot, then cleared his throat. “So you know that last month after Father Burns told us the address I gave him for Darleen wasn’t any good, I traced her to another town in Alaska and sent a registered letter there?”
“Yes.” Of course she knew. How could she not know? The fact that they couldn’t find Wally’s ex-wife to get her statement was holding up the annulment process.
“A week or so later that letter also came back marked ‘Moved, no forwarding address.’ And I hadn’t been able to unearth even a new phone number for her.”
Silently, Skye was screaming,
“So, yesterday—” Wally broke off at the sound of an insistent buzzing from the hall.
Whoever was at the front door was jabbing the bell repeatedly, causing Toby, who had been lying at Skye’s side, to leap to his feet and run out of the sunroom, barking wildly. Bingo, who had been asleep on the settee cushion next to Wally, opened one eye and turned over.
“It might be one of my officers about the case.” Wally rose from his seat and strode toward the foyer. “You know my cell doesn’t always work in this house.”
Skye followed, easing past him to brush aside the curtain covering the front window. She peered out, sighed in frustration, then swung the door open.
Trixie burst into the entrance hall. “Owen’s disappeared again,” she cried. “I can’t find him anywhere. Something terrible has happened—I just know it! ” She flung herself at Skye, sobbing hysterically.
It took half an hour and most of the rest of the bottle of wine, but Skye and Wally finally managed to calm Trixie down enough for rational conversation. They had seated her on the settee in the sunroom next to Skye, while Wally took the matching wicker armchair.
Skye put her arm around her friend and asked gently, “Are you ready to tell us what happened?”
Taking one last gulp of merlot, Trixie wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and said to Wally, “After you called at six thirty wanting to speak to Owen, I got worried about what you wanted with him.” She glared at Wally. “You wouldn’t tell me why you needed to talk to him.”
“Sorry.” He crossed his arms. “As I said before, it’s confidential.”
“Right.” Trixie hiccupped. “Anyway, about a half hour ago, I decided to go get Owen, so he could call back and find out what was going on. I looked in the barn and the tractor shed, and even though it was too dark to be doing anything in the fields, I even checked there. Finally, I noticed that his truck wasn’t in the garage.”
Skye and Wally exchanged uneasy glances. Had Owen somehow gotten wind of the autopsy results and realized he might be a suspect in Suzette Neal’s murder?
“And that’s unusual?” Skye asked, not sure what was normal for the couple.
“Yes.” Trixie nodded emphatically. “Generally, we eat at five; then Owen takes care of the animals and works around the barn or shed for another two or three hours. Although lately he’s been staying out there until bedtime.”
“Which means, typically, if I hadn’t called, you wouldn’t have been concerned if he didn’t come inside until ten or so?” Wally asked.
“Right,” Trixie agreed, a troubled expression stealing over her face.
“You’re sure he hasn’t phoned you?” Skye asked. “Is your cell on?”
“Yes. I checked just before I left home,” Trixie affirmed. “And there are no messages from him.”
“Could you have forgotten a meeting he said he was attending?” Wally inquired.
“There’s nothing on the calendar.” Trixie shook her head. “And the only regular meeting he attends is the Farm Bureau on the second Wednesday of the month.”
They were silent as Skye searched for a rational explanation for Owen’s disappearance. Finally, she noticed that Trixie had her eyes closed and her lips were moving.
She poked Trixie with her finger. “Are you awake?”
“Yes. I’m praying for the wisdom to understand my husband,” Trixie enlightened Skye, then added, “Also for love to forgive him and patience to deal with his inconsiderate actions.”
“You’re not praying for strength?” Skye asked, thinking Trixie might need it.
“No,” Trixie said tartly. “If the Lord gave me strength, I might end up beating the crap out of my husband.”
“Well.” Trixie’s shoulders relaxed. “I suppose he might have gone over to Kankakee. But he should have told me. Heck, maybe I would have wanted to take a ride with him.” She scowled. “This does it. He’s getting a cell phone whether he wants one or not. And he darn well better use it or there’ll be hell to pay.”
As Skye walked Trixie out to her car, Trixie hugged her and said, “Thanks for always being there for me.”
“That’s what friends are for.” Skye hugged Trixie back. “We’re sort of like Spanx; we never let you droop and are all about support.”
Once Trixie left, Skye started to clear the mess from dinner. While she filled the sink with hot water, she asked Wally, “Where do you think Owen really is?”
“Well . . .” He put the leftover salad in a Tupperware bowl before placing it in the refrigerator. “The only thing we know for sure is he’s not with Suzette.”
“Unless . . .” Skye squirted soap under the running water and watched the bubbles foam. “The body isn’t Suzette’s and they ran away together.”
“I suppose anything’s possible.” Wally selected a dish towel from the drawer. “But then, who was under the steamroller?” He dried a plate and placed it in the cupboard. “No one else is missing.”
“True.” Skye washed a handful of silverware. “Besides, I can’t really see Owen doing something that wild. Heck—I can’t picture him having an affair.”
“Sometimes the quiet ones fool you.” Wally finished putting away the dishes.
“Yes, they do. They do, indeed.” Skye turned to stare at Wally. “So, what were you trying to tell me when Trixie arrived?”
“Let’s sit down.” Wally led her to the kitchen table and pulled out two chairs. He cleared his throat before saying, “Darleen contacted me yesterday just before I left for Laurel to testify in court.”
“That would be good news.” Skye smiled hopefully. “Wouldn’t it?”
“That depends.” Wally wrinkled his brow. “She said I owe her for all the money I should have paid her when
