“I . . . uh . . . need to tell Simon something.” Skye made her voice sound casual.
Wally raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“I’ll tell you after I talk to him.” Skye tilted her head and tried to look innocent. “Okay?”
“Fine.” He jerked his head toward the store. “Don’t touch anything.”
“Sure.” She got up, then hesitated. “I’ll be back in a second.”
“Go.” Wally’s tone was irritated.
Simon was taking pictures of the cabinet from various angles when Skye approached him and said, “I need to tell Wally about Xavier’s connection with this store.”
“No.” Simon stopped what he was doing and turned toward her. “You promised not to tell anyone, particularly Boyd.”
“We need a phone number for Orlando.” Skye ignored the accusation in his voice. Simon knew the situation had changed, and he was being unreasonable. “The emergency contact info at the police station must be old.”
“Then you don’t have to tell Boyd about the investment, just that Xavier and Orlando are old army buddies, right?”
“Yes.” Skye thought for a moment. “That’s all I’ll say as long as this is an accidental death.” She gestured to the cabinet without looking at it. She really didn’t want to see poor Risé again. “But if the situation changes . . .”
“Right.” Simon sighed. “I know.”
Xavier was getting out of the hearse when Skye walked outside. His normally pale complexion was even pastier than usual, his expression was apprehensive, and he was wringing his hands. She should have realized that when Simon called him for a pickup at Tales and Treats, he’d be worried the victim was one of the store owners. Poor guy. The loss of Risé would hit him hard. He didn’t have many close friends.
As soon as Skye explained Xavier’s friendship with the store owners, Wally hurried over to the hearse.
The two men spoke quietly for a couple of minutes; then Skye heard Xavier say, “They’re staying at the Up A Lonely River Motor Court. They’re supposed to move into their apartment above the store Monday afternoon after the building inspector green-lights the remodeling.”
Darn! Skye exhaled loudly. Her godfather, “Uncle” Charlie Patukas, was the owner and manager of the motor court, president of the school board, and Scumble River’s most influential citizen. He was also one of the biggest gossips in the county. They’d have to be cagey if they didn’t want news of the fatality to be all around town by nightfall. It would be even worse if Skye’s mother were the dispatcher on duty, but May didn’t work on Sundays.
Before Wally could make the call to Orlando, Anthony, one of the part-time police officers, parked his truck behind the hearse and jumped out.
He waved a fistful of bright orange straps and said, “I brought these. Dad uses them to move appliances when he’s on a job alone.”
“Good thinking.” Wally smiled. “Glove up. Then go on inside and get things set with Reid. I’ll be there in a second.”
Anthony touched his finger to the brim of his baseball cap. “Sure thing, Chief.” He nodded to Skye, then rushed past her into the store.
While Xavier got the gurney and body bag from the back of the hearse, Wally joined Skye on the sidewalk. “Would you mind calling Orlando at the motor court?”
“Not at all.” Skye powered up her cell phone. “What should I say?”
“Just tell him there’s an emergency and he’s needed here immediately.”
“Okay.” Skye started punching in the number to the motor court, one she knew by heart. “Should I mention our missed appointment if Uncle Charlie wants to know why I want to talk to Orlando?”
“That’s a great idea.” Wally squeezed her free hand. “The longer we can keep the death quiet, the better.”
As Wally strode over the shop’s threshold, Skye turned her attention to the phone.
A second later, Charlie answered, “Up A Lazy River Motor Court.”
“Hi, Uncle Charlie. It’s Skye. Could you put me through to Orlando Erwin’s cottage?”
“Why do you want to talk to him?” Charlie was nearly as bad as May in wanting to control Skye’s life.
Skye explained, ending with, “Have you seen him around today?”
“Can’t say as I have,” Charlie said, his voice thoughtful. “Not real good business to miss appointments with customers.”
“Maybe he forgot.” Skye kept her tone light. “But I do need to talk to him to reschedule.”
“You going to your ma’s for supper tonight?” Charlie was in no hurry to forward the call.
“Probably not.” Skye resigned herself to a few minutes of chitchat. “You?”
“Sure.” Charlie chuckled. “I never miss one of May’s Sunday dinners if I can help it.”
“They are good,” Skye agreed.
“So you want to talk to that book fellow?”
“Yeah. I’d really like to get rid of these old books.” Skye crossed her fingers. “And I’m in sort of a hurry.”
“Okay. I’ll ring his room now. Take care, honey.”
“Thanks, Uncle Charlie.” Phew. She’d made it past the first hurdle.
“Hello?” A woman’s voice answered on the first ring.
Skye frowned. “May I speak to Orlando Erwin, please? Skye Denison calling.” Had Charlie put her through to the wrong cottage?
“Hello, Skye. He’s not here right now. This is Risé.”
Oh. My. God! Skye stared at her cell as if it had turned into a rattlesnake. If Risé was on the phone, that meant that . . . Oh, no—she’d made the same mistake yesterday, but this time she’d assumed that the tiny brunette was the store owner when it was really Kayla.
“Skye, are you there?” Risé’s tone was brusque. “Why did you want to talk to Orlando? I’m sorry if he missed an appointment or something, but this isn’t a good time. Try him later on at the store.”
“Uh, wait. Don’t hang up.” Skye wasn’t sure what to say, and she knew she had to tell Wally immediately that Risé was not the woman who had been crushed. “I’m sorry to bother you, but there’s an emergency at Tales and Treats. You need to come down here right away.”
“What—”
Skye cut her off. “I’ll explain when you get here.”
“But—”
Flipping the phone closed, Skye cut off Risé again and rushed inside the shop. She heard, “One.” The men had threaded moving straps under and around the cabinet. “Two.” Wally held one end and Anthony held the other. “Three.”
Skye waited to speak while Wally and Anthony heaved the cabinet to an upright position and Simon and Xavier steadied it against the wall.
Once she was sure the cabinet was secure, Skye pointed to the body. “That’s not Risé Vaughn.”
“Then who is it?” Simon asked.
“It’s Kayla!” a voice cried from the doorway. “It’s my Kayla!
CHAPTER 8
The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Ms. Hyde
Chase Wren wailed, sounding like a wounded wildebeest, then charged toward Kayla’s body, tears running down his chiseled cheeks.
“Stop.” Simon stepped into his path. “I’m sorry to tell you she’s dead.” He grabbed the distraught young man by his shoulders and attempted to turn him around. “You have to leave immediately.”
Chase shook him off like a bull with a rodeo rider, and when Simon hit the floor, Anthony stepped in front of Chase. The hulking ex–baseball player stumbled but quickly regained his footing.
“Whoa there, son.” Wally got behind Chase, grabbed both his arms, and twisted them up his back. “Let’s all calm down. We can talk outside.”