Murder of a Bookstore Babe

“Unfortunately, there’s quite a list.” Skye frowned. “And about half of the names on it are my relatives’.”

Wally wasn’t entirely persuaded by Skye’s reasoning. However, since the stolen books hadn’t yielded any usable fingerprints and they didn’t have any other leads, he did agree that in addition to investigating the murder as if Kayla was the intended victim, he’d have an officer look into the bookseller’s background, as well.

He also approved Skye talking to her cousins Kevin and Hugo, her cousin-in-law Flip, Charlie, and Tomi. Thankfully there was no need to talk to Pru Cormorant again. The English teacher had made her peace with Risé before the murder took place.

As Skye sat in her car watching Wally drive off, she realized that once again she’d forgotten to tell him about Vince’s engagement to Loretta and the couple’s plans to run away and get married in Las Vegas. Was she just absentminded, or was she subconsciously afraid that Wally might suggest they make it a double elopement?

Nah. Wally knew she wanted a church wedding, and he would never ask her to give up that dream. Tucking away that positive thought, Skye started the Bel Air but didn’t put it into gear. Shoot! Now that she was convinced Risé was the intended victim, she probably should have mentioned Xavier’s investment in the bookstore.

On the other hand, what possible reason could Xavier have to kill Risé? Without her, Tales and Treats would never succeed. Even having met Orlando only twice, Skye was sure there was no way he could run the business by himself.

Next, Skye considered her list of suspects. Which person should she question first? Better yet, what excuses could she use to drop by and see them? Hugo lived in Clay Center; she’d save him for when she could catch him at his used-car dealership.

It was a little past five thirty—suppertime for most Scumble Riverites. That meant Tomi would be busy at her restaurant, and both Kevin and Flip would be eating dinner with their families. That left Uncle Charlie. Tuesday was his bowling night, and he always ate at the alley’s grill before the league started.

Skye parked in the bowling alley’s sparsely populated lot. The senior men’s league didn’t start until six thirty, so the few cars present belonged to either bar patrons or men like Charlie—older bachelors or widowers who preferred not to cook for themselves.

The wind had picked up, and as Skye walked around to the front of the building, she held down her skirt, not wanting to flash anyone driving down Basin Street. When she pushed through the glass door, the glaring overhead lights made her blink.

While her eyes adjusted, Skye listened to Frank Sinatra crooning from the speakers. He was bragging about doing things his way—a sentiment she understood and approved of but didn’t practice as often as she should.

Charlie wasn’t among the half dozen men at the bar, so Skye continued into the grill. He was seated in a booth reading the Laurel paper and drinking a chocolate milk shake. She slid in across from him and flicked the newspaper with her thumb and index finger.

Scowling, Charlie lowered the paper and growled, “Dammit, I told you—” He cut himself off. “Skye, what are you doing here, honey?”

Unlike her cousins, whom she wouldn’t put past committing murder, she was sure her godfather had not killed Risé. Unfortunately, he’d made his dislike of the bookstore owner clear, so she hoped he had an alibi and could be crossed off the list.

“Have you eaten yet?”

“No. I just ordered a minute ago.”

“Great.” Skye put her purse down beside her. “How about some company?”

“Sure.” Charlie folded the newspaper and set it aside. “To what do I owe the privilege?”

“Nothing special.” Skye took a menu from the metal holder that contained the salt and pepper shakers, catsup, mustard, and a bottle of hot sauce. “Wally’s got a meeting, and when I drove past and saw your car, it reminded me that you eat here on Tuesdays.”

“Is everything okay with you?” Charlie’s voice was apprehensive.

“Yep.” Skye kept her gaze on the laminated pages showing pictures of burgers and fries. “How about you?”

“Fair to middling.” Charlie eyed her thoughtfully. “Talk to your mother today?”

“Yes.” Ay-yi-yi! She’d forgotten that May had probably filled Charlie in on Vince buying an engagement ring. “She called me at work this morning.”

Skye had never quite figured out how her mother and Charlie had become so close. In the past she’d even wondered if they’d once had an affair, but she’d finally realized that Charlie’s love for May was paternal, and May reciprocated with daughterlike affection. Both fulfilled a need in the other. Charlie had never married or had children, and May’s father had died while she was still a teenager.

Before Charlie could question Skye further, Frannie appeared to take her order.

As soon as they exchanged pleasantries and the girl walked away, Skye, hoping to divert the conversation away from Vince, asked, “Are Orlando and Risé still staying at the motor court?”