Murder of a Creped Suzette

When Skye returned juggling a can of Diet Coke, a bag of Cheetos, and a Kit Kat bar, Wally was just hanging up the receiver, saying, “Yeah. I’ll call you right away if I hear anything.”

“That sounded fun,” Skye commented, laying her loot on the desktop.

Wally ran his fingers through his hair. “Your uncle’s gone crazy.”

“I’ll bet it was a short trip.” Skye resumed her seat, grabbed the soda, and popped the top. “He’s had the map to that location for years.”

Wally chuckled mirthlessly. “Rex Taylor has him convinced we need to spin this as an accidental death.”

“Right.” Skye swallowed a sip of Diet Coke. “Has he suggested blaming the whole thing on gremlins or a poltergeist ?”

“I’m sure that’s next.” Wally picked up the Cheetos and pulled open the bag. “It sure would help if the ME got his report in.”

“When do you expect it?” Skye unwrapped the Kit Kat bar.

“The preliminary one should be here anytime, but it’ll be three to seven days before we get the DNA tests.” Wally crunched a bright orange puff of cheese. “Too bad it’s not like those shows you like. I bet NCIS would have had the results before the first commercial.”

“Probably,” Skye deadpanned. “They have Abby on their team and she’s a lot smarter than our lab guys.” She knew Wally thought the forensics on TV dramas were bogus, but she still enjoyed the programs. “So what were you going to tell me before the phone rang?”

“Maybe we should wait until later, when we’re home, to talk about that.” Wally’s expression was apprehensive. “You know, stick to business while we’re here. We have a lot to discuss about the case.”

“Actually . . .” Skye faltered. She had just remembered Homer’s ultimatum. “I have to get over to Franklin’s in Clay Center and they close in half an hour.”

“You want to go shopping now?” Wally’s brows disappeared into his hairline.

“Not want, need.” Skye enlightened Wally about her afternoon and Toby’s indiscretion, finishing with, “So, you see, it’s those shoes or my job.”

“A dog is a big responsibility.” He glanced down at the culprit in question, who was staring at the Cheeto Wally was holding. “Maybe you need to find someone else to take care of him.”

“I told you this morning, I’m only keeping him until you find Suzette’s next of kin.”

“I just want you to think of the consequences of your decision.”

“Fine.” Skye narrowed her eyes.

“Fine.” Wally pressed the intercom button. “May, have Anthony come up to my office.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to send him to get Homer’s shoes.” Wally crossed his arms. “I need you here and I can spare him, so it makes sense.”

“You can’t have him run my errands.” Skye wondered at Wally’s uncharacteristic behavior. He was usually obsessively careful not to exploit his position as chief of police. “Not on the city’s dime.”

“I wasn’t going to.” He shot her a quizzical look as he reached into his back pocket and took out his wallet. “His shift is almost over, so I’ll take him off the clock and pay him myself.”

“It’s my problem.” Even though they were engaged, Skye felt uncomfortable letting Wally spend his money on her this way. “I’ll pay him.”

“Fair enough.”

While Wally worked out the details with Anthony, Skye phoned the store to see how much the shoes cost. “You’re kidding me.”

The clerk’s voice was amused. “No, ma’am. That particular brand is two hundred and twenty-nine dollars.”

“Holy mackerel!” Skye’s shriek drew Toby’s, Wally’s, and Anthony’s attention. She covered the receiver and repeated the price. The little dog yipped in sympathy, but the men seemed unimpressed.

“Lady, I’ve got customers waiting. Do you want them or not? I only have one pair in that size.”

Yeah. Skye rolled her eyes. Like there were hundreds of people clamoring to buy butt-ugly size 10 double-E clodhoppers that cost more than a new set of tires.

“Yes, I want them.” Skye gritted her teeth. What choice did she have? “Can I give you my credit card number to pay for them now?”

“Knock yourself out.”

Skye stopped herself from suggesting that the man take his own advice, and instead she said, as civilly as she could manage, “A friend of mine will be there in twenty minutes to get them. His name is Anthony.”

“Is he cute?” Before disconnecting, the clerk added, “Never mind. Even if he’s Brad Pitt, we close at six on the dot and I’m not sticking around if he isn’t here.”

After Anthony left for Clay Center, Skye and Wally were silent for a few minutes.

Finally Wally seated himself behind his desk. He opened a folder, picked up pen, and said, “Shall we get down to business?”

“Well . . .” Skye ate a section of the Kit Kat bar while she considered insisting Wally tell her about whatever he was avoiding. Deciding it would be better to handle their personal issues somewhere else, she said, “Okay. Where should we start?”

“Why don’t you write out your statement, so May can type it up for you to sign while we talk?” Wally pushed a legal pad and ballpoint over to her.