Murder of a Royal Pain

“She absolutely refuses to go back to Loyola.”

“That’s a shame.” Skye turned on the cold water and splashed her face, trying to focus. “Does she have an alternative plan?”

“Yeah.” Xavier’s tone was sarcastic. “She’s going to get her old job at the bowling alley back.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s as far as she’s thought it through.”

Skye sank into a kitchen chair. “Maybe she needs a little time to figure out what she wants.”

“No.” Xavier’s voice was firm. “She needs to get her rear end back in college.”

“Well, uh, good luck with that.”

“Can you talk to her?”

“I doubt I could change her mind,” Skye stalled. “And I’m really not feeling well tonight.”

“Oh.” There was a silence; then Xavier said, “Well, the thing is, she’s already on her way to your house.”

“I see.”

“She thinks you’ll take her side.” Xavier cleared his throat. “I wanted to make sure you and I were on the same page.”

“And you want her in school?”

“Right.”

“If it doesn’t have to be Loyola, I could suggest Joliet Junior College.” Skye got up and put a filter in the coffee machine’s basket. Her head still felt fuzzy, and she needed to be able to think straight if she was going to convince Frannie to do something she didn’t want to do. “Maybe if she can commute, she’d be willing to give college another try.”

“Yeah, that might work.” Xavier sounded relieved. “Call me when she leaves and let me know how it went. Okay?”

“Sorry, no.” Skye was not getting caught in the middle. “You two can talk about it when she gets home.”

While she waited for the coffee to brew and Frannie to arrive, Skye checked her messages. There was one from her mother demanding to know if she had broken up with Wally and was now dating Kurt. Skye deleted that one with no intention of returning May’s call.

The second one was from Loretta. All it said was, “Meningitis, menopause, mental illness—ever notice all problems begin with men?”

Skye hit the DELETE button again. No way was she returning that call either.

The last message was from Simon. He said he had some info about the murder and he’d get in touch with her the next day. Hmm. That sounded promising.

It took several hours to convince Frannie to give JJC a chance, but when Skye pointed out to her that she’d need transportation from Scumble River to Joliet in order to attend, the girl gave in. Frannie had been bugging her father to buy her car since she’d turned sixteen. Once Frannie left, Skye went to bed and fell immediately asleep.

When she woke up Wednesday morning, Skye felt as if she had a hangover, but she forced herself to get up and go to work. Jackie and Skye interviewed students all morning, but none of the kids seemed to know anything about the bombs. Homer was not happy with their lack of results. And when the principal wasn’t happy, no one in the school was happy.

Trixie hadn’t had any better luck when she talked to Bree Miles, Cheyenne Harrison, and Ross Kennedy. None of the three had revealed any useful information. Linnea Paine was still out of school, so Trixie hadn’t been able to speak to her.

To top it off, at noon Skye had found a note in her box from Evie Harrison, which read:Skye,I don’t have time to talk to you. With Annette gone, I’m now Promfest chair and am just too busy. I’ll contact you when I have a chance. Stop calling me and showing up at my house or I’ll tell Officer Quirk you’re harrassing me.EvieP.S. Don’t even think of quitting A Ghoul’s Night Out. Remember, my husband is on the school board, and if you mess this up for me, even your uncle Charlie won’t be able to save your job.

Skye was livid at Evie’s threats, but knew she’d better lay off for a while. She couldn’t risk Quirk knowing she was still investigating, just in case Roy was the killer. And she couldn’t risk getting fired. Her résumé was only now recovering from the last time she was sacked.

Driving home after work, Skye brooded that the day had been a total waste. She hadn’t accomplished anything in either of her roles—as school psychologist or as police consultant. The only bright spot was that Wally was due home that evening.

Bingo greeted her at the door, and after petting him she started up the stairs to change into more comfortable clothes. Before she made it to the top, the doorbell rang. Sighing, she went back down. When she looked out the peephole, her first instinct was to turn away. On her porch, standing shoulder-to-shoulder, were Simon and Kurt.

Crap! Double crap! Just what she needed. Pasting a smile on her face, she swung the door open and said, “What brings you two here together?”