Murder of a Creped Suzette

“Right. Of course.” Wally straightened but subtly put pressure on Skye’s shoulder, indicating she should stay seated and that it was her turn to take over the interrogation. “We surely don’t want to keep you from that. Thanks for your patience.”

“I’m happy to cooperate with the police.” Flint held out his hand.

“Mr. James,” Skye spoke from behind Wally. She could see the singer, but he could only glimpse her. “Before we go, I just wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed your concert last Saturday night.”

“Why thank you, little lady.” Flint’s baritone was as smooth as twelve-year-old scotch. “I truly love singing to a live audience.”

“You know”—Skye let her voice drop as if imparting a secret—“for a while there I was afraid the concert wasn’t going to happen.”

“Oh?” Flint’s expression was neutral. “Why is that?”

“Folks here in Scumble River are pretty impatient and I thought they’d leave when it didn’t start on time.” Skye giggled. “Good thing there was all that free booze available.” She put her hand over her mouth, pretending to be embarrassed. “No offense.”

“None taken.”

“But the concert was nearly half an hour late.” Skye shook her head. “Some people thought that was downright rude of you all.”

“I agree.” Flint’s ears were red. “I hate speaking ill of the dead, but the delay was entirely Suzette’s fault. I was there early.”

“I know.” Skye stood and moved around Wally until she was facing the singer. “I overheard you talking to Mr. Taylor before she arrived.”

“How did you—?” The beautiful bronze skin of Flint’s face became a jaundiced yellow. “Where were you? I mean—what did you hear?”

“I heard you say that you didn’t trust Suzette. That she was a schemer and had sweet-talked Mr. Taylor into giving her one of your best songs.” Skye moved closer to the singer. “Is that what you call being friendly colleagues ?”

CHAPTER 18

“Your Cheatin’ Heart”

Flint stuttered for a moment or two, then took a breath, smoothed his hair, and pulled his celebrity persona around him like Superman’s cape. His trademark sexy grin appeared, and in a sensuous drawl he said, “You must have misunderstood me, darlin’.”

“I don’t think so.” Skye stared coolly into his molten toffee eyes and crossed her arms. “I was only a few feet from an open window.”

“Have you been around many performers?” Flint intensified his smile.

“That depends on what you mean by performer.” Skye allowed her lips to curve slightly. “I’m a school psychologist and deal daily with teenagers, parents, teachers, and administrators—many of whom are putting on an act for my benefit.”

Flint’s chuckle was forced. “Real artists usually blow off steam before a live gig.” His expression was now little-boy earnest. “Everyone knows it’s just nerves and we don’t mean anything by it.”

“Really?” Skye persisted, not swayed by Flint’s attempt to charm her. “Does that include Mrs. Taylor? She seemed to share your opinion of Suzette.”

“Kallista is a singer, too. As soon as her throat is better, she’ll be back onstage.”

“Maybe sooner rather than later, now that Suzette’s gone,” Skye suggested, testing to see if Flint would offer up Kallista as an alternative suspect.

He seemed to think about it for a couple of seconds, but straightened his shoulders and said, “You’re not even close.” His charisma slipping, he sneered, “Suzette was far from the sweet young thing she pretended to be. As my grandpa used to say, she had honey on the lips, but vinegar in the heart.”

“Yet only you and Kallista have spoken badly of her,” Wally said, the Texas twang now gone from his voice.

“No one who wants to make it in show business is as nice as she pretended to be.” Flint gave a hard, bitter laugh. “And I’m sure I wasn’t the only one who had a problem with her.”

“Fair enough.” Wally moved into Flint’s personal space. “But when I asked you that the first time we spoke, you said Suzette kept to herself. Were you lying then or are you lying now?”

“Neither. She kept to herself, but she was ambitious, so she had to have made enemies.”

“Right.” Wally flicked the singer a scornful glance. “You need to wipe the corner of your mouth. Some BS is stuck there.”

“I’m telling you the truth.”

“Name someone.”

“Figure it out for yourself.” Abruptly Flint’s manner changed from cajoling to confrontational and he thrust his face close to Wally’s. “I’m looking out for number one, and that doesn’t include doing your job for you.”

“My job requires the public’s assistance.” Wally held his ground. “We’re asking all the men connected with the Country Roads tour and the construction crew to give us DNA samples. Can we count on your cooperation?”

“Will it get you out of here?”

“You bet.”

“Then, sure.” Flint shrugged. “Whatever.”

“I’m shocked Flint is willing to give us his DNA,” Skye whispered as they left the cabin. “Have the others agreed so easily?”