Murder of a Royal Pain

Skye moved closer to the man next to her and lowered her voice. “Aside from Evie and Annette wanting their daughters elected prom queen, I can’t imagine why being in charge of putting up a few streamers, hiring a deejay, and setting out some chips and punch is such a big deal.”

“Where have you been? From what I’ve heard this morning, maybe that was true when Promfest was originally conceived, but each year the parents try to outdo what was done before. Nowadays they take over half the school, set up inflatable adult-size ball pits and crawling tubes, hire magicians and hypnotists, and give away door prizes that range from dorm-size refrigerators to flat-screen TVs.”

“You’re kidding!” Shoot! She had heard rumblings from the students that Promfest had become more elaborate, but she hadn’t taken too much notice, since most of the kids she worked with had more serious problems than what to do after the prom—not that many of them even attended the dance.

“Not at all.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. “There’re also the party favors, which last year consisted of a full-size wheeled suitcase filled with DVDs, popcorn, chocolates, et cetera.”

“Holy smokes.” Skye was stunned. Note to self: Pay more attention to what’s going on in the whole school, not just the part concerning the kids I work with.

“Think a teenage Chuck E. Cheese party on steroids,” he added.

While Skye was attempting to come to terms with that image, a loud gasp drew her gaze to where Annette and Evie stood off to the side.

As Skye watched, the blonde shot Annette a look of pure loathing, walked back to the center of the room, and announced, “For the good of the Promfest and the sake of our children’s special night, I concede the chair to Annette Paine.”

Skye sat back down and stared speculatively at Evie, then raised an eyebrow at the man next to her. “What in the world could Annette have said to make her give up a position that was obviously important to her?”

“Got me.” He tapped his pen on his notebook. “But I’m going to find out.”

“Oh?” It wasn’t often that Skye met someone who was even nosier than she was. “Why?”

“It’s my job.”

“Really?” Skye studied him for a moment. He was in his mid-thirties and devilishly handsome. “What do you do?”

“I’m the new reporter for the Scumble River Star.” He held out a tanned hand to Skye. “My name’s Kurt Michaels. I’m also starting a column called ‘Talk of the Town.’ ”

“Gossip?”

“I like to call it vital information.” He shrugged. “After all, it’s the lifeblood of any small town.”

“True, but considering you’re an outsider, will people give you the real scoop?”

“I guess we’ll see. My first column is in this week’s paper. But ask yourself this. You’re a native Scumble Riverite, correct?”

Skye nodded.

“And which of us knew about the feud between Annette and Evie for Promfest chair? Not to mention the rivalry between their daughters Linnea and Cheyenne for prom queen.” He got up and headed for the door. “I’m out of here.” Over his shoulder he added, “Nothing else interesting is going to happen.”

Skye watched him as he left, his powerful, well-muscled body moving with an easy grace. On second thought, considering his sexy smile, hot body, and oodles of charm, the ladies of Scumble River would almost certainly be willing to tell him all their secrets, not to mention those of their neighbors and friends. Heck, if he took off his shirt and gave them a look at his six-pack abs, they’d probably be willing to make up a scandal or two.

Kurt was right: The rest of the meeting was a snooze. It started with Annette explaining that the main mission of the Promfest committee was to solicit donations and raise money, and eventually led to her announcement, “The first fund-raiser of the year is our A Ghoul’s Night Out haunted house. We need volunteers to sell tickets, construct the set, and act as the monsters. I’m sending around a sign-up sheet, and I expect to see not only your name, but those of your spouse and teenager, as well.”

There was a murmur from the crowd, and several hands shot into the air.

Annette ignored them, passing the clipboard and a pen to those at the table closest to her. “Remember, in order for your student to fully enjoy Promfest, he or she will need a bank account full of Prom Bucks to spend on food, games, and activities. And you can earn these PBs with every hour you volunteer, prize you solicit, and donation you make. Just for attending today’s meeting you’ve earned your teen five thousand PBs.”

Skye watched in amazement as the parents vied to sign away their free time; then she quietly got up and slipped out of the room before the volunteer list reached her table. Not that she would have volunteered for any activity, but she particularly hated haunted houses.