Murder of a Royal Pain

Skye noticed one guy sitting by himself, and took a seat at his table. He was the only man in the room who didn’t look as if he wished he were somewhere else. Instead, his expression veered between amusement and disbelief as he scribbled furiously in a small notebook.

Skye smiled at him and asked, “Who are they?” gesturing to the front of the room, where two attractive women stood nose-to-nose yelling at each other.

“The one with the black hair is Annette Paine, and the blonde is Evie Harrison. They both think they’re this year’s Promfest chairwoman.”

“And they want to be?” Skye couldn’t imagine why anyone would actively seek that position. “Why?”

“Lots of power and a good way to strengthen their daughters’ chances of being elected prom queen.” He gave Skye a sidelong glance. “Both of them are former queens themselves—Evie in 1983, and Annette in 1982.”

“Oh. I heard they were campaigning for their daughters, but didn’t realize Promfest was a part of the battle.” Skye cringed. “This is going to get ugly.”

“Already has.”

Abruptly the shouting increased in volume, and Skye’s attention was drawn back to the front of the room. Several women had left their seats. About half were crowded behind Annette, and the remaining faction stood behind Evie. It was beginning to look a lot like a scene from West Side Story. Skye wondered which were Sharks and which were Jets.

“I don’t know where you got the impression that you were chairing this committee.” Annette poked Evie in the shoulder with a perfectly manicured fingernail.

“I got the impression from the election last year.” Evie bristled. “You remember the election, don’t you?”

Annette smoothed a strand of hair back into her chignon. “That vote was invalid. We didn’t have a quorum. The legitimate election took place the next week.” Her icy blue gaze lasered into the brown eyes of her rival. “As I recall, you claimed you couldn’t make it because you had to visit your parents in Florida.”

“You deliberately held that meeting while I was gone.” Evie stamped her Etienne Aigner–shod foot on the worn gray linoleum. “A meeting you had no right to call.”

“As the assistant chair of the prior year’s committee, I was certainly within my rights to call a meeting.” Annette flicked a piece of lint from her Yves Saint Laurent cashmere cardigan.

“That committee had already been disbanded.” Evie’s voice climbed into that high, squeaky pitch that only other women and dogs can hear. “You had no authority whatsoever.”

“You’re questioning my authority?” Annette seemed to be struggling for breath, and one of her lackeys handed her an inhaler. Impatiently she took a quick puff, then said to Evie, “I wouldn’t go down that road if I were you.” When Evie’s silence lengthened, Annette prodded: “What? Are you lost in thought?” She arched a flawlessly plucked brow and mocked, “I imagine that’s pretty unfamiliar territory for you.”

Evie lunged at her rival, hands wrapping around Annette’s throat. Annette grabbed two handfuls of Evie’s hair and pulled. Before Skye could react, the two women’s supporters had dragged them apart.

Both groups stood panting and glaring at one another until a voice from one of the tables rang out: “Let’s just take another vote and get on with it. Some of us have lives.”

The women who were still seated clearly didn’t care who the chair was and murmured their agreement, but the ones standing protested.

Skye looked at her watch and blew out an impatient breath. Much as she hated to get involved, she would have to become an active participant and hurry the committee along. If she didn’t get out of here by the end of first hour, her whole morning’s schedule would be messed up. She was supposed to be starting Brady Russell’s three-year reevaluation.

Students who received special education services were required by law to be tested by the school psychologist triennially. These reevals made up the bulk of her duties, and if she fell behind, she would have to cut her counseling and consultation hours—the part of her job she most enjoyed.

She required at least ninety minutes without interruption to give Brady the intelligence test. She would have to find another couple of hours to administer the academic and processing assessments on another day, not to mention time to do the classroom observation, teacher interviews, write the report, and attend the multidisciplinary meeting. Some school districts had gone to abbreviated reevals, but not Scumble River.

With the clock ticking away precious minutes, Skye stood, ready to make an impassioned plea along the lines of “Can’t we all just get along?” when Annette leaned toward Evie and whispered furiously in the blonde’s ear. Evie narrowed her eyes, jerked her chin for Annette to follow her, and moved away from the others.