Murder of a Creped Suzette

Wally and Skye pulled into the Kankakee Exotic Animal Ranch at four twenty-nine. The lane wound through pastures of llamas and emus, dead-ending at a huge barn and corral. Owen was carrying a bale of hay when they approached him.

As soon as he spotted Skye and Wally, his usually impassive expression was replaced by one of defeat, and he hurled the hay bale to the ground. “I should have known keeping a secret in these parts would be impossible.”

“Sorry, Owen.” Wally stepped forward and clapped the unhappy man on the shoulder. “If it’s any consolation, we’ll keep this information completely confidential.”

“How did you find out?” Owen took off his work gloves and stuck them in his back pocket.

“The Dooziers saw you here,” Wally explained. “They mentioned it when we were out at their place investigating a complaint.”

“So what do you want?” Owen wiped his face with a red handkerchief.

“Is this where you were last Saturday when you claimed to be having a drink with a friend?” Wally asked.

Wally and Skye had decided that Wally’d be the best one to question Owen, so Skye leaned against a stall and tried to blend into the background.

“Yes. This is where I am whenever I’m not home.” Owen stared at his work boots. “The owner can vouch for me.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me all this when I asked?” Wally wrinkled his brow.

“Trixie doesn’t know that in order to buy the llama and emu herds, I agreed to work off the debt.” Owen’s face crumpled. “She complains I don’t spend enough time with her. If she found out I took on another job, it would have set her off something fierce.”

“So you weren’t having an affair with Suzette Neal?” Wally asked.

“An affair?” Owen’s eyes bulged. “Hell, no.” He shot Wally a dark look, then said, “So that’s what this was all about. You thought I was sleeping with that singer who got killed, and then for some reason I murdered her?”

“She was seen getting out of a truck similar to yours last Saturday night.” Wally’s tone was unapologetic. “We had to check out the possibility. We’ve been talking to all the locals who own black pickups. If you had just cooperated, we could have crossed you off our list long ago.”

“I’ve never even looked twice at another woman. I love my wife.” Owen shook his head. “That’s why I work so hard. I want her to have nice things.”

“She’d rather have you,” Skye murmured.

Owen stuck out his chin. “Just because someone doesn’t love you the way you want them to doesn’t mean they don’t love you with all they’ve got.”

But was that enough? Skye was afraid this might be Trixie’s breaking point. Trixie loved Owen, but he kept using all his energy to make money, then had no time left for her. Some rifts in a marriage couldn’t be healed.

Sunday morning, despite Father Burns’s wonderful sermon, Skye didn’t experience the serenity she usually felt when she attended Mass—probably because she and Wally planned to approach Olive after church. It would be the perfect time, because Dante always ate breakfast with his cronies while his wife went home to start Sunday dinner. If Skye and Wally arrived at the Leofantis’ shortly after Olive got back from the nine o’clock service, they’d likely find her alone.

Skye had gone to the same Mass as her aunt and uncle to make sure neither of them varied their usual routine. Now she drove over to pick up Wally. They had agreed Olive might talk more freely if they went together in her car and Wally wasn’t in uniform.

After exchanging greetings with Wally, Skye was silent for the five-minute ride to her aunt and uncle’s farm. She was discouraged by their lack of progress in the murder investigation. Even with all the information they’d gathered in the past six days, they still seemed no closer to solving Suzette’s murder.

Just before the lane leading to Dante and Olive’s house, Skye spotted something new. She nudged Wally. “Take a look.”

A series of four small signs read:

If you want peace

Prepare for war.

For safety at home

Guns even the score.

“Yep.” Wally shrugged. “That sounds like Dante all right.”

“Surprising he wants to open the town up to so many strangers,” Skye mused. “You’d think the last thing he’d want was a bunch of outsiders invading his kingdom.”

“Money talks.”

“True, and to Dante it sings a sweet siren song.”

As Skye parked the Bel Air, Wally said, “I think it would be best if you questioned your aunt.”

“I agree.”

“I’ll step in when the time is right.” Wally exited the car, walked around the hood, and held out his hand to Skye.

The mayor and his wife lived in a rambling trilevel perched on the southern edge of their acreage, surrounded by a large yard studded with mature trees. Clearly someone had recently raked the lawn, because there wasn’t a leaf in sight, and Skye would bet a year’s salary that that someone was her aunt, not her uncle.

Olive opened the door within seconds of Skye’s ringing the bell. “Skye, Chief, what a surprise. Were you looking for the mayor?”