Murder of a Creped Suzette

“Send an ambulance and the officer on duty to Hutton’s dairy farm.” Skye didn’t bother giving an address. She was sure that all the cops and EMTs knew where the farm was located. “Someone’s very badly hurt in the parking lot behind the barn.” She was unwilling to say for sure that the person under the steamroller was dead. The emergency squad personnel should make that call.

“Skye, is that you?” May demanded. “What are you doing out there? Who’s hurt?”

Pushing the END button, Skye climbed into her car, still cuddling the little dog. The fact that she had hung up on her mother showed just how truly upset she was. Having lost her umbrella at some point, she was soaked to the skin, and even though the temperature was in the mideighties, she felt chilled to the bone. Shivering, she started the Chevy and turned on the heat full blast.

As she waited for help to arrive, she put Toby on the passenger seat, where he promptly shook his entire body, spraying both Skye and the Bel Air’s interior with a fine mist. As Skye dried off the dog with a wad of napkins from the glove compartment, all she could think about was the last time she had seen pink cowboy boots—on Suzette Neal’s dainty little feet.

While Skye tried to convince herself that Suzette didn’t own the only pair of brightly colored boots, an ambulance with its sirens blaring and lights flashing pulled into the driveway. A police cruiser skidded to a stop directly behind the ambulance and Sergeant Roy Quirk jumped out.

Quirk was in his early thirties and was Wally’s second in command. The sergeant’s solidly muscled body and shaved bullet-shaped head made him look like a torpedo.

He and Skye had had a run-in last fall, but they were now on good terms. Even so, she was reluctant to leave the warmth of her Bel Air to join the sergeant on the gravel drive. Talking about what she had seen would make it real.

He tugged his plastic-covered police hat down nearly to his eyebrows, trying to shield his eyes from the driving rain, and pulled open her car door. “What’s going on?” Quirk hunched over so he could look into Skye’s face. “May said you sounded really bad on the phone and wouldn’t give any details.”

“I didn’t want to have to go over it twice.” Skye’s voice was taut, her fingers twisted in a knot. “Where’s the chief?”

“He’s testifying on that gas station robbery case,” Quirk answered with a sigh. “He should be back anytime now. Trials usually end by four at the latest.”

“Sorry.” Skye tried to remember if Wally had told her he would be out of town today. “I didn’t mean to sound like I thought you couldn’t handle this.”

“I understand.” He shook his head. “I’m used to that reaction. Everyone wants Superman, and they’re disappointed when Clark Kent shows up.” He straightened his shoulders. “So, fill me in.”

“Okay.” Skye gestured with her chin to where the EMTs had disappeared around the back of the barn. “Someone . . . Someone . . .” Feeling nauseous again, she swallowed before continuing. “Under the . . . the . . .” Saying it out loud was harder than she had imagined. “Someone’s been run over by the steamroller.”

All expression left Quirk’s face. “Show me.”

Skye wanted to refuse to return to that awful scene, but she got out of the car.

While they walked, Quirk asked, “Did you recognize the victim?”

Skye had to hurry to keep up with Quirk’s fast pace. “I can’t be sure.”

Quirk shot her a puzzled look but kept moving. “Why is that?”

Growing breathless, Skye gasped, “All I could see were the boots.”

“And you called for an ambulance?” Quirk’s tone was dubious, but not harsh. “Do you really think she might be alive?”

“Probably not.” Skye didn’t meet his gaze. “But I sure wouldn’t want to be mistaken.”

At the edge of the parking lot, Quirk ordered, “Stay here.”

Skye nodded; then, feeling dizzy, she sank into a nearby pile of concrete blocks. Her view was a bit obstructed, for which she was immensely thankful. She did not want to see what was under that roller.

However, it was clear from the snatches of conversation she heard and the body language of the EMTs that the woman was dead.

There was a short discussion between Quirk and the paramedics regarding how to move the hulking machine.

When no one had any suggestions, one of the EMTs climbed up into the cab, but almost immediately got back down. “The key’s there, but I have no idea how to run the thing.”

“Okay.” Quirk grabbed the radio clipped to his shoulder and thumbed the button. “Dispatch, please locate the foreman of the construction crew working at the Hutton dairy farm and have him report to the scene.”

Quirk rejoined Skye, but instead of speaking to her, he took a cell phone from his pocket, dialed, and waited for his call to be answered before saying, “Reid, we have a body for you.”