Murder of a Creped Suzette

Skye scanned the crowd, spotting her parents chatting with the Leofanti aunts and their spouses. Another cluster contained her Leofanti cousins and their families. A third group contained Trixie and Owen. Skye was relieved to see that the couple must have patched up their differences, because Owen had his arm around his wife’s waist and Trixie was smiling up at him with love shining from her eyes.

Among the nonrelatives, two guests caught Skye’s eye—Simon and Jess from the Brown Bag. The men appeared deep in conversation, and Skye wondered what Suzette’s twin was discussing so earnestly with Simon.

Her curiosity was satisfied when she overheard Jess saying, “I intend to be at Rex Taylor’s trial every day, and once he’s found guilty, I’m asking the prosecutor to let me speak before the court, during the time family members are allowed to address the judge.”

Simon murmured something Skye didn’t catch; then Jess continued, “I’m planning a trip to California and Nashville to find out more about Suzette and my biological family.”

Skye and Wally joined a group of business owners, but when the others began discussing how disappointed they were that Branson of Illinois wasn’t coming to Scumble River, Skye subtly pulled Wally away and asked, “Do you see Olive or Dante?”

“No.” Wally examined the assemblage. “That’s odd. The mayor usually makes sure he’s the center of attention.”

Skye frowned. Where were the party’s hostess and her husband?

As she opened her mouth to make another comment about her aunt’s absence, she heard a querulous male voice. “Why the hell are we here?” There was an indistinct murmur; then the same voice complained, “What’s gotten into you, woman? You’re not going through that mental pause again, are you?”

Dante waddled through the arch leading into the party room, followed closely by Olive, who was wearing a purple velvet cape that covered her from her neck to her feet. Once they appeared, everyone swarmed toward them.

Skye blinked in surprise as Olive spoke over her husband. “Thank you all for coming on such short notice. I guess it’s a good thing there’s not much to do in Scumble River on a Tuesday night.”

Several people chuckled and Olive continued, “I’ll explain everything in a few minutes. In the meantime, please help yourself to the refreshments.”

Dante made a grab for her arm, but Olive eluded him, walked toward a door at the rear of the room, and disappeared.

Once everyone had a beverage and a plate of munchies, conversations continued and Skye said to Wally, “So, how did it go with Darleen today?”

“About as you’d expect.” He shrugged. “She was happy her boyfriend took a plea deal so she didn’t have to testify against him, but she still claims she doesn’t need to be in rehab and begged me to change my mind.”

“But you didn’t?” Skye’s green eyes were sympathetic.

“No.” Wally’s jaw firmed. “I told her if she didn’t complete the program, you would press charges.”

“Good.” Skye paused, then asked, “Did she give you the truthful annulment letter, or is she still threatening to write a fictional account that would hold up the process ?”

“She gave me the honest version, but only after trying to wheedle money from me for it.” Wally put an arm around Skye. “I dropped the envelope off at the church, and Father Burns said that by spring he’d be able to give us an idea of the timeline.”

“And once we get that, I can start planning our wedding.”

“What in blue blazes are you wearing?” Dante’s bellow interrupted Wally and Skye’s kiss, and she looked in the direction of her uncle’s ire. Olive had removed her cape to reveal a leotard and wrap skirt. She’d replaced her boots with ballet slippers. She pirouetted gracefully into the center of the floor and curtsied with a sweep of her arm.

After a brief hesitation, the guests applauded, although most looked bewildered.

Olive brought her hands together at chest level, then said, “Welcome to the Scumble River School of Adult Dance. I will be teaching the joy of ballet and my partner will be teaching the pleasure of modern dance. She is sorry she can’t be with us tonight, but she will be here when we open our doors January second.”

Everyone crowded around Olive, asking questions and congratulating her, but Dante roared, “Wait just a cotton-pickin’ minute! I didn’t say you could open a dance school. Of all the dadgum fool ideas of yours, this takes the cake.”

Olive’s face paled, but she straightened her spine and said, “I don’t need your permission, Dante, and this isn’t a stupid idea. None of my ideas, which you refuse to listen to, are stupid.”

Silence ensued as the guests watched the couple.

“You need my say-so to spend my money.” Dante’s face was stained with an ugly flush.

“I didn’t use your money.” She paused and took a gulp of wine from the glass someone had handed her. This moment was clearly a difficult one for her. “I used the money my mother left me.”

“But . . . but . . .” Dante sputtered. “We agreed that would go for a new combine.”