Murder of a Creped Suzette

Skye frowned. Trixie hadn’t mentioned Owen was working at—But before her thought could fully form, she heard a high-pitched laugh that reminded her of a deranged birthday clown.

Emerging from the wooded area behind them, and carrying a submachine gun, was Glenda Doozier. From her purple-stiletto-clad feet to her dyed blond hair, she was the embodiment of an ideal Red Ragger woman, but all Skye could think of was—how in the heck had Glenda been able to navigate the woods in four-inch heels?

“Ain’t she somethin’?” Earl thrust out his bony chest. “I knew she was my one and only since the day I read that stuff about her on the bathroom wall in the boys’ locker room. I asked her to go frog giggin’ that very night.”

“That’s so . . .” Skye searched for the right word and gave up. “Well, it’s always good to strike while the—”

“Bug is close,” Earl finished for her, then rushed over to his wife. “Baby doll, look who’s here. Miz Skye and her future hubby.”

Glenda ignored Skye and Wally, and poked Earl with the shotgun. “What do they want?”

“One a our highfalutin’ neighbors claimed we was a-shootin’ at ’em.” Earl rubbed the spot on his shoulder where she had jabbed him.

“We ain’t done nothin’ wrong.” Glenda crossed her arms, the gun shoving her considerable bosom nearly out of the iridescent purple tank top she wore.

“I already explained that, dumplin’,” Earl whined. “Yew got paint in yer ears?”

She turned on her husband. “If brains were water, you wouldn’t have enough to baptize a flea.”

“Now, Glenda.” Wally stepped forward. “There’s no need to get upset.”

“Yer right.” Glenda narrowed her rabbitlike eyes. “ ’Cause we got a right to do what we want on our own land. And those nosy Parkers next door can jes’ shove it where the sun don’t shine.”

“That’s true, but you have to make sure none of the paint pellets land on your neighbors’ property.” Wally’s tone was firm.

Skye recoiled, then scooted behind Wally. Telling Glenda something she didn’t want to hear was dangerous. Not to mention she held grudges long past their expiration date, and she and Skye had gotten off on the wrong foot when they’d first met five years ago.

When Glenda didn’t respond, Wally added, “And if you’re going to run a business, you need to check out the zoning laws and get a license.”

As quick as a mongoose attacking a cobra, Glenda leveled the shotgun. Wally dove to one side and Skye turned to run. But it was too late. Glenda had already squeezed the trigger.

CHAPTER 24

“I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry”

“You believe me about not knowing you had moved behind me?” Wally called through the glass shower door in Skye’s newly renovated bathroom.

“Certainly,” Skye shouted back over the sound of running water.

“I never would have jumped out of the way if I knew you were there.”

“Of course. You’ve proven time and again you’d take a bullet for me, so I’m sure you wouldn’t duck a paintball.”

“Anytime, darlin’.” Wally’s voice was husky. “For a minute there, before I realized the gun fired paint pellets, I . . . I almost lost it and shot Glenda for real.”

“I know, sweetie.” Skye scrubbed her neck, feeling Wally’s love wrapping around her. “Except for a little cosmetic damage, I’m fine.”

“It’s a good thing, or I’d round up every one of the Doozier clan and use ’em for target practice.”

“Uh-huh.” Skye showered in silence for a while, then said, “So do you agree that Owen’s job at the llama and emu ranch has something to do with where he was last Saturday and why he won’t give you his alibi for that time?”

“Yes.” Wally stood at the sink, wiping away stray paint spatters from his clothing. “Do you think MeMa was telling the truth about Olive?”

“Olive does fit the description, and she and Dante have always driven Cadillacs.” Skye poured more shampoo into her hand and started washing her hair for the fifth time. Fishy-smelling orange lather ran down the drain. “I hate to say this, but if I were married to someone who treated me as heartlessly as Dante treats her, I’d sure be having an affair.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Wally’s tone was wry as he patted dry his wet pants leg. “I’m thinking we should tackle Owen first, since we need to talk to Olive when the mayor isn’t around.”

“Plus Owen will be a lot less complicated.” Skye scoured orange flecks from her wrists and hands. She had taken the paintball hit between the shoulder blades, so her shirt had received the worst of the damage, but the paint had splashed outward like a gelatinous water balloon, drenching every exposed patch of skin.

“Interrogating Aunt Olive will be mighty tricky,” Skye said.

“That’s for sure.”

“We should try to speak to Owen alone, too.” Skye stepped out of the shower and Wally handed her a towel. “What time is it?”

He looked at his watch. “Three thirty.”

“Let’s check the llama and emu ranch for Owen first.” Skye wrapped the towel around herself and picked up a wide-toothed comb. “This is around the time Owen was missing last Saturday. Maybe it’s his regular shift there.”