the interrogations, and this time I have something specific to ask them. Especially since neither of them has an alibi.”
“I am so sorry I forgot to tell you about that conversation. I didn’t realize they were two of the three Country Roads people who couldn’t account for their time.” Skye felt she had let Wally down. “What kind of psych consultant am I if I don’t remember the important details ?”
“You overheard Flint and Kallista before the murder, when what they said wasn’t that important. Then you had a nasty shock when you found Suzette in that horrific condition.” Wally leaned into the Chevy and embraced Skye. “No one could expect you to be at the top of your game after seeing that.” He rested his cheek against hers. “Besides, it’s only been two days.”
“Thanks for understanding and not being mad.” She hugged him back. “But I promise I’m over it now. Simon is going to dog sit for me, and I’ll concentrate on helping you find the killer.”
Skye held her breath, wondering how Wally would take the news of Simon’s involvement.
“Why would you ask your ex-boyfriend for help?” Wally’s voice was soft, but it had an edge that made Skye flinch.
“Actually, Simon volunteered.” Skye hastily explained the conversation they’d had at the ATM. “I have a feeling he might end up adopting Toby if they get along and no one else claims him.”
“Yeah.” Wally nodded thoughtfully. “I can see that.” After a few seconds his face relaxed. “Reid will need the companionship.” Wally kissed her, then straightened. “Because he’s not getting you back.”
“That was my thinking. Do you want me to help with the reinterviews tomorrow after I get out of school?”
“Definitely.” Wally’s smile was predatory. “I’m going to save the two major players for you. And instead of bringing Kallista and Flint into the PD, we’ll approach them in their home territory, where they’re apt to be less careful of what they say.”
“I can’t wait.” Skye started to close the Chevy’s door, but stopped. “Hey—how about Darleen? Were you able to trace that number I gave you?”
“Just like I figured, it came back to a disposable cell.” Wally crossed his arms. “And no one answered when I dialed it, not even voice mail.”
“Guess whoever called isn’t in much of a hurry for the money.” Skye studied Wally’s tired expression before asking, “Have you decided if you’re going to pay her or not?”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Wally leaned a hip against the car. “But if you want me to, I will, because getting to marry you is worth more than a measly quarter million dollars.”
“That’s such a sweet thing to say.” Skye beamed at him. “But I’d never encourage you to give in to blackmail.”
“I’ll try calling that number again tomorrow.” Wally’s shoulders hunched forward. “Maybe we can work something out.”
“Well, whatever you decide, I’m behind you a hundred percent.” Skye started the Bel Air’s engine. “If we don’t get a letter from Darleen supporting your request for an annulment, it may take a bit longer, but it will still come through and we’ll still get married.”
Skye had been praying it wouldn’t come to this. She’d been sure they’d find the name of Suzette’s brother last night in the police file. But now that the file was officially stolen, that hope had vanished.
Noreen had said only two people currently at Scumble River High were at the school when Quentin Neal worked there—Homer Knapik and Pru Cormorant, the English teacher. Voluntarily spending time in Homer’s company was bad enough, but questioning Pru ventured into the realm of appalling.
Pru hadn’t liked Skye when she had her as a student, and she disliked her even more as a colleague. The animosity was mutual, especially since last month when the English teacher had tried to shut down the newly opened bookstore in town, claiming the romances it sold were pornography and the horror novels were satanic.
Skye had been putting off the discussions with Homer and Pru all day. But by the afternoon, when the elementary school student she had scheduled for testing was absent, Skye had run out of excuses and reluctantly headed over to the high school. Pru wouldn’t be available until eighth hour, which was her second planning period, but Homer was almost always free.
The session with Homer went remarkably well. Having successfully turned over the administrative problems pertaining to Woodrow Buckingham’s integration to the special education coordinator, the principal was in a mellow mood.
Homer answered Skye’s questions with only a few snide remarks, but he could add nothing to what Noreen had already reported. Homer’s sole recollection of Quentin Neal was that he had done his job and kept out of trouble.
When the seventh-hour bell rang, Skye waited for the kids to leave before approaching Pru’s room.
“Hi, Pru,” Skye called from the open doorway. “Got a minute?”
The English teacher was facing a six-foot-high double-door metal cabinet. At Skye’s greeting, she swung around and scowled. “Did Mrs. Cook complain about that note I sent home yesterday?”
“What note?” Skye asked cautiously. Homer usually sent her to deal with Pru when the teacher ticked off a parent, but he hadn’t mentioned a problem.
“The one I wrote that said, ‘Your son sets low standards and then consistently fails to achieve them.’ ”
“Holy smokes!” Skye blurted out. “What possessed you to send a parent something like that?”
“I know you think I’m crazy,” Pru snapped, “but I’ve just been in a very bad mood for the past twenty-odd years.”
“Of course I don’t think you’re crazy,” Skye soothed, thinking,
“Fine.” Pru crossed her arms. “Which of your little darlings needs special treatment this time?”
“No one at the moment.” Skye forced a smile. Pru thought everyone should be treated equally—that is, everyone but the two or three students she selected as her pets every year. “However, I always appreciate your cooperation when I do have a request.”
The English teacher narrowed her wintry blue eyes and twitched her pointy nose. “Then to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”
Skye held on to her smile. “I understand you knew Quentin Neal. He was a music teacher who worked here quite a while ago.”
“He was here only for a year, so I wouldn’t exactly say I knew him,” Pru quibbled. “Especially since he taught a fluff subject.”
“I understand. But is there anything at all you can recall about him?” Skye was fairly sure that Pru, who acted as gossip central for the school, kept track of all the new teachers, even the ones she dismissed for teaching superfluities like music and art. “Maybe who his friends were?”
“I do remember he was a handsome man.” Pru gave a small shrug, her expression contemptuous. “All the young females on the staff, and several of the older ones who should have known better, were atwitter.”
“Did he chirp back?” Skye asked, wondering if Pru had been one of the cheeping flock. “I imagine that kind of adulation would be tempting to him.”
“No.” Pru smoothed her stringy dun-colored hair back into its chignon. “He was pleasant, but he kept his distance.”
“Did you ever meet his family?” Skye asked. “I understand he had twins.”
“Yes to both your questions. And since the girl was just murdered here in town a couple of days ago”— Pru’s smile was superior—“I imagine she is why you’re so interested in Quentin.”
“That’s true,” Skye admitted, not allowing herself to be baited. “Do you remember his son’s name?”
“Let me think.” Pru tapped a bony finger on her receding chin and pursed her thin lips. “It wasn’t an
“Did it rhyme with Suzette?” Skye asked, realizing the absurdity of the suggestion before the last word slipped from her lips.
“What boy’s name ends with
