Murder of a Creped Suzette

“Thank you.” Skye smiled proudly. “I just had it remodeled. They only finished last month,” she explained, then tried to focus on the matter at hand—whatever that was. “You don’t have another gig lined up?”

“No.” Suzette cleared her throat. “Actually, this was my first big concert and I almost missed it.” Her shoulders drooped. “I didn’t get to wear my costume or curl my hair or anything.”

“But you sang really well,” Skye assured her.

“Well, my aunt always said that when you stumble, you should make it part of the dance.” Suzette shrugged. “And Rex is grooming me to be his next breakout star, even if right now I make my living as his administrative assistant.” Her expression brightened. “Rex promised that as soon as the Country Roads Theater opens, I’ll be singing full-time.”

“That sounds wonderful.” Skye turned toward the coffee machine and filled it with water, then measured out the grounds. She was dying to find out why Suzette was there, but she knew from her experience as a school psychologist that it was best to let people tell their stories at their own pace.

“Anyway, we’ll all be in the area for the next week.” Suzette’s tone was cheerful. “Rex is meeting with prominent Scumble Riverites, overseeing the beginning of the theater remodel project, and interviewing people for various jobs.”

“And of course Mrs. Taylor will be here. I can’t imagine her leaving her husband alone,” Skye muttered half to herself as she took mugs off the shelf. “But surely Mr. James has another concert scheduled.”

“Flint is staying a couple of days to do meet and greets.” At Skye’s puzzlement, Suzette clarified. “You know, be charming and butter up sponsors and investors and so on. He’s really good at that. Everyone always likes him.”

“Right.” Skye was surprised at how sweet and down-to-earth Suzette was; except for the boob job, she was not at all what Skye would have expected after overhearing Flint and Kallista’s unflattering comments about the young woman.

“So,” Suzette said as Skye turned her back to reach into a drawer for spoons, “I guess you’re wondering what I’m doing here.”

“Yep.” Skye moved toward the table but kept her gaze on the tray she was carrying. The singer seemed to be able to talk more freely when she didn’t have to maintain eye contact. “I am.”

“Someone told me you’re good at solving mysteries.” Suzette studied her chewed fingernails. “That you figure things out when the cops get stuck.”

“I’ve helped out the police a few times,” Skye answered carefully.

“I heard you’re the small-town Nancy Drew.” Suzette tilted her head. “I didn’t know who she was, but I Googled her after the concert and Wikipedia said she was a girl detective in some old-timey books.”

Skye mentally tsked. How could someone not have heard of one of the best girl series ever written? Suzette had probably never read Trixie Belden mysteries or Cherry Ames novels, either. Granted they weren’t modern, but then neither was Shakespeare.

“Who told you I was the small-town Nancy Drew?” Skye hoped the Star hadn’t run another story about her. The local newspaper tended to exaggerate her part in solving crimes. She’d been relieved that her name hadn’t been mentioned in connection with Scumble River’s past few murder investigations, especially the last one. As far as she knew, there hadn’t been any articles lately; someone, aka her mother, would definitely have mentioned them.

“He . . . she . . . the person asked me not to say.” Suzette took a sip from the cup Skye had placed in front of her.

Skye waited for the singer to continue, and when she didn’t, asked, “So what do you need a detective for?”

“Before we get to that, I need for you to promise you won’t tell anyone anything I say.” Suzette stared imploringly at Skye.

“I’ll keep the information confidential.” Skye sat opposite the young woman. “Except from my fiancé, who’s the chief of police and very discreet.” Once Suzette nodded, Skye added, “And if there comes a time when I think that not revealing the information will cause someone physical harm. Then I’ll have no choice but to break confidentiality, because I won’t let someone get hurt.”

“I guess I can live with that.” Suzette bit her thumbnail. “I need for you to help me look into the circumstances surrounding a death that occurred in Scumble River twenty-seven years ago.”

“Why are you interested in something that happened before you were born?”

“Well, that’s one of the most crucial secrets.” Suzette licked her lips. “I’m actually not twenty-two. I’m nearly thirty.” She took a breath. “Which is why I had to slip away this afternoon. There was someone I needed to talk to about this death, but I can’t let Rex know I’m interested or he’ll figure out how old I am.”

“Oh.” Skye didn’t have to ask why the singer was lying about her age. Youth was an important currency in the entertainment business. “Still, what connection to the deceased do you have?”

“The woman was my mother.”