Murder of a Creped Suzette

Skye cringed. Simon Reid, her ex-boyfriend, was the county coroner, not to mention the owner of both the local funeral home and the bowling alley. Even though she’d been engaged to Wally since the end of June, Simon had been trying to win her back with extravagant measures that included offers of exotic trips, surprise champagne lunches, and serenading her dressed as a knight in shining armor. Running into him in any situation was awkward.

When Skye focused back on the present, Quirk was calling the county crime scene techs. Once he had filled them in, he radioed the Scumble River PD to see if the chief had checked in yet. Skye was relieved when she heard her mother say that Wally was on his way.

A quick glance at her watch told Skye that it was nearly five. It would take at least three-quarters of an hour, maybe more, for the techs to arrive from Laurel. The county seat, where they were based, was a good forty-five miles away from Scumble River, and the narrow secondary roads were full of twists and turns.

Taking a deep breath, Skye rose from her seat and said to Quirk, “Unless you need me for something, I’ll wait for the chief in my car.”

“Good idea,” Quirk agreed. “I’ve called in all our off-duty and part-time officers, and they’ll be keeping the perimeter intact.”

“Okay.” Skye started to walk away. “You’re sure there’s nothing I can do?”

“Positive.” The sergeant’s lips twitched. “I don’t want to get in trouble for making the chief’s fiancée catch pneumonia.”

“Yeah. Like I wasn’t soaked before you got here.” Skye rolled her eyes.

When Skye reached the Bel Air, Toby was curled up on the backseat. He barked once as she got in, so she dug a honey and oat granola bar from her purse. After he wolfed down the treat, he went back to sleep. She had checked earlier and there was no owner information on the back of his tag, but it was pretty clear that he belonged to whoever was under the steamroller. Shoot! What would she do with a dog?

As she waited, she dried herself off with a couple more napkins, then rooted through her tote bag until she found her brush and a scrunchie. Taking her hair from the knot on top of her head, she blotted it with the last of her napkin stash, then smoothed it into a ponytail. A dash of lip gloss and a swipe of mascara helped her feel slightly calmer, and when she leaned her head against the seat, she was able to pray for the victim’s soul.

She must have dozed, because the next thing she knew, the passenger door was being opened and Wally was sliding into the car.

He gathered her into his arms. “Darlin’, are you okay?”

“I am now.” She snuggled for a moment, then kissed his cheek and withdrew from his embrace. “I know you have questions. Go ahead.”

He released her and pointed to the backseat “Whose dog is that?” Before she could reply, Wally added, “Hold that thought. Instead tell me why you’re here.”

“Don’t you remember? I told you I was meeting Suzette after school today. I was going to let her know I would look into her mother’s death, then get some information from her.”

“I didn’t realize you were meeting her at the theater site.” Wally gestured to the barn. “What happened when you arrived?”

“Well . . .” Skye gathered her thoughts. “The first thing I noticed was that there were no cars, so I thought maybe she had stood me up.”

“But?”

“But when I approached the Winnebago, Toby”—she pointed to the backseat, where the dog was keeping a wary eye on Wally—“was sitting on the little metal step.”

“And?”

“He ran away when I tried to pick him up.” Skye turned a little toward Wally, then continued with her story, ending with, “So, Toby led me to the body.” Skye winced. “I really hate calling someone that, but we still don’t know for sure who she is.”

“Sorry. I know this is tough.” Wally patted her arm. “The construction foreman got here the same time I did. He should be moving the steamroller right now.”

“Do you need me to look?” Skye didn’t want to do it, but she understood that the sooner they identified the victim, the better their chances of solving the case. “I can do it if you think it’ll help.”

“I doubt anyone will be able to make a visual ID.” Wally put an arm around her. “And I’ve got Anthony searching for Rex Taylor.”

“Of course,” Skye agreed quickly. “He should know anyone who worked here. He’s definitely a better option for an identification than I am and—” She snapped her mouth shut, aware she was babbling.

“It’s okay, sugar. I wish you hadn’t been the one to find her. Try not to think about it anymore.” Wally squeezed her shoulder.

“But . . .” Skye struggled to express her thoughts, not wanting to seem weak.

“I’ve got it now.” He held her for a few more minutes, kissing her temple.

“You’re right. There’s nothing I can do here.” Skye drew strength from Wally’s touch. “I’d just be a distraction for you.”

“Only in a good way,” Wally reassured her. “You know I value your insights, and once we start interviewing suspects, I’ll want you there.”

“And I’ll be ready.”