Murder of a Creped Suzette

Clutching her key ring, she slid her tote bag onto her shoulder and hefted the box into her arms. As she strode toward the school’s entrance, she concentrated on keeping her expression nonchalant. It was fairly common for her to carry around cartons and test kits, which meant that if Toby kept his little white muzzle shut, no one would look twice.

Skye was in luck. It was a few minutes before the kids would be allowed inside, so the halls were relatively empty. At one point she saw the principal marching toward her and her stomach clenched, but he was engrossed in haranguing the custodian about dented trash cans and didn’t acknowledge Skye’s presence.

Almost there. Skye put the box on the floor in front of her office and inserted her key. Just as she opened the door, a group of teachers walked by, talking loudly, and Toby shoved the lid from the carton, poked his head over the side, and looked around. His eyes were bright with interest and his pink tongue lolled out of his mouth.

Skye quickly thrust the box inside the room, slammed the door, and waited. Had they seen Toby? After a few moments, when no one came around asking about the little dog, she collapsed on her chair.

Phew! That had been too close. It was only seven thirty-five and already her heart was racing and her pulse was pounding. How would she pull this off for another eight hours?

While Toby acquainted himself with every nook, cranny, and object in the room, Skye’s mind galloped. Since she now had the morning free, she could stay in her office writing reports, but she had counseling sessions scheduled for the afternoon. Where could she stash the little dog while she saw students?

There weren’t many staff members Skye could count as real friends. For the most part, it was easier to maintain impartiality and confidentiality if she kept somewhat distant from most of the faculty.

Past circumstance had thrown her and Alana Lowe together, and they had formed a bond, but the art teacher was too emotionally fragile to handle this sort of favor. That left Trixie.

Hmm. As the school librarian, Trixie had greater freedom than almost anyone else. She also had a workroom that she could lock. And since the three afternoon periods totaled only two hours, surely Toby wouldn’t need to relieve himself during that time.

The little dog had found an old sweater Skye kept around for days when the furnace went out and had managed to wrestle it from the coatrack onto the floor. He was currently nestled in its folds, chomping on his bone. This was an ideal time to go talk to Trixie.

School had started a quarter of an hour earlier, and the students were finishing homeroom—twenty minutes in which attendance was taken, announcements were made, and a good-citizen lesson was taught. Apparently today’s session was about organization, because Trixie had an image of the official assignment notebook on the overhead screen and was demonstrating how to keep track of homework due dates.

From where Skye lingered in the back of the multimedia center, she noticed that few of the kids seemed impressed with the multicolor pencil method. Most sat with their books in their arms on the edge of their seats, and when the bell rang, they bolted for the exit.

Trixie was gathering up debris when she spotted Skye weaving her way through the departing teens, and called out, “Hey, girlfriend. I was going to go look for you as soon as I had a break.”

“You want to hear about the body,” Skye guessed, knowing that rumors must be flying fast and furious around town.

“What else?” Trixie drew Skye into her tiny office and shut the door. “Spill.”

While Skye described yesterday’s experience, Trixie unwrapped a package of miniature donuts. She offered Skye one of the quartet, then bit into her own, moaning, “Oh, my goodness. These are sooo good.”

While Skye had been off the diet roller coaster for the past five years, she still tried to eat healthfully and to exercise. So despite having missed breakfast, she resisted the donuts and stifled the urge to smack her friend. It wasn’t Trixie’s fault that she could consume her own weight in sugar and never add an inch to her size 4 figure, while Skye could gain five pounds watching the Food Channel.

Once both Trixie’s appetite for sweets and her curiosity about the murder were sated, Skye said, “I need a favor.”

“Sure.” Trixie popped the last bite into her mouth. “What?”

Skye explained about Toby, then said, “So, can you keep him in the storage room this afternoon?”

“No problem.” Trixie pressed the powdered sugar from inside the cardboard tray into a tiny ball and licked it from her fingers. “I can take him from after lunch until the end of the day.” She crumbled the cellophane. “Normally, I’d go home on my break and drop the dog off with Owen, but he’s going to some estate sale with your dad today.”

“Too bad.” Skye had deliberately omitted her search for Owen, since she’d been afraid Owen was AWOL again. “That would have been a great solution.”

“Yeah.”