“Me and the other kids’ll be waiting in the café,” Junior told his dad.
Earl nodded and went in search of fame and fortune.
Skye glanced at her watch. It was one o’clock. Trixie had said she’d try to meet her here, but Owen had wanted her help in buying some new clothes at Farm and Fleet in Kankakee, and she might not make it back in time. Just in case, Skye put her tote bag on the seat next to her to save it, although people weren’t exactly pouring into the room. Besides herself, there were the three ladies that had provoked Glenda’s ire, four or five teenagers, a strange guy dressed in a long overcoat, and Orlando.
The author, Walker Josephson, picked up a hardback with a cover featuring a tough-looking man holding a big gun in his hand, his arm around a seminaked girl. Twenty minutes later, Skye was fighting to keep her eyes open. Josephson had a monotone voice, and she would have much preferred that he talk about the story rather than read it to them.
When the writer finally closed the book, took a sip of water, and asked for questions, Skye looked around. Who would be brave enough to go first?
Orlando stood and said, “Walker, thank you for coming to our bookstore.”
“It’s my pleasure.” Josephson nodded his head regally.
Next, a brunette from the trio of women raised her hand and said, “It’s such an honor to have you here in Scumble River.”
Thank you, little lady.” The author sucked in the small potbelly that hung over his waistband. “Which of my books was your favorite?”
“Oh.” The brunette tittered. “I haven’t actually read any. I don’t have time to read. Are they available on CD?”
He grimaced and shook his head. “Any other questions?” He glanced around the small space, stroking his beard.
Silence. Then finally one of the teenagers asked, “Did you write the whole book yourself, or did you, like, copy some of it?”
“That would be plagiarism.” He glared at the girl. “I would never do that.”
“Sorry. My history teacher said to ask.” The girl chewed, then blew a bubble with her gum. “He told us if we came to this we got extra credit and he wouldn’t fail us for using papers we bought on the Internet.”
“Well.” Josephson seemed to be unable to think of anything else to say.
Skye felt sorry for him and raised her hand. “Could you tell us a little about your writing process?”
While he was explaining his method, Risé stepped back into the room. Once he finished, she said to him, “Thank you, Walker.” There was a smattering of polite applause. When it died down, she pointed to a table off to the side. “We have cookies and coffee, and Mr. Josephson will be happy to autograph books for you.”
Orlando slipped out of the room, but everyone else rushed for the refreshments, and Skye had to fight her way in the opposite direction. Once she got her book signed, she walked over to Risé and asked, “Do you have a minute to talk to me?”
“Sure.” Risé raised an eyebrow. “Somehow I don’t think there will be a run at the register.”
“Somewhere private?”
“Okay.” Risé led the way. “We can use the back room.”
When they were settled, Risé in an old office chair and Skye perched on a box, Skye said, “I wanted to warn you that my cousin Hugo found out about what happened in your previous job and plans to tell everyone.”
“I know.” Risé shrugged. “It was never a huge secret, although it would have been nice to be able to leave it in the past.” She grimaced. “I wish it hadn’t happened, but I had no idea my boss was running a Ponzi scheme. The police cleared me, and I was hoping to start fresh.”
“You might want to give the Star an interview and get your side out in the open. Maybe something on the order of the positives in starting over.” Skye made a face. “I don’t always agree with Kathryn Steele, the paper’s publisher, but she’s usually fair.”
“Good idea.” Risé nodded. “I don’t worry about what people think—they don’t do it often enough for me to be concerned—but it does bother Orlando. And right now he’s struggling to stay sober, so I don’t want him more stressed-out.”
Skye nodded sympathetically. “Then it really would be a good idea to let people know what really happened versus what Hugo might say.”
Risé pursed her lips. “I met Kathryn at a chamber of commerce meeting, and I think she’d be open to my story.”
“Great.” Skye smiled. “One other thing.” She twisted the handles of her tote bag. “You know the police now think that murder was the primary intention, not burglary. So we’re exploring all possibilities, which includes the chance that you rather than Kayla were the intended victim.”
“Really?” Risé’s face knotted with surprise. “Me? Why?”
“Well, I hate to ask . . .” Skye hesitated.
“Go ahead.” Risé met Skye’s gaze. “I’ve never flinched from uncomfortable questions, and I’m not about to start now.”
“Fair enough.” Skye nodded. “I’m thinking it might be someone who lost money with your firm and blames you. Was there anyone local who invested?”
“Yes.”
“Who?” Skye asked, hoping Risé wouldn’t claim confidentiality.
“Troy Yates.”
“The bank president?” Skye clarified, although the only other Troy Yates she knew was his son, Troy Jr., currently away at college.
“Uh-huh.”
“Then we’ll talk to him.” Skye dug a pad from her tote and made a note. “Anyone else around here who lost money and might want to kill you?”
Risé hesitated for a nanosecond before shaking her head.
Skye watched the other woman’s expression. “Are you sure?” She was certain Risé was holding something back.
“Yes.” Risé got up. “Yates is the only one from this area who lost money and might hold a grudge.”
“Okay.”
Skye started to leave, but Risé stopped her. “Um, if I was the intended victim, do you think the killer might try again?”
“It’s hard to say,” Skye hedged. “It would probably be a good idea not to be alone, make sure the doors are locked after hours, and keep up your guard.”
“Yeah.” Risé’s skin was pale, and there was fear in her eyes. “I’ll do that.”
Skye watched Risé head into the café, then walked over to the counter. Xenia was alone at the register, and Skye handed the girl Josephson’s book and a fifty-dollar bill. “I’m curious about something.”
“Yeah?” Xenia rang up the purchase.
“Let’s face it. I know you don’t need the money, so why are you really working here?” Skye held out her hand for the change and was a little dismayed to see it was less than twenty dollars. This was why she rarely bought hardcovers.
Several different expressions crossed Xenia’s face before she settled on nonchalant. “I thought it would be an interesting experience.”
“Try again.”
“I don’t answer to you.” Xenia’s posture was belligerent as she shoved the book into a bag.
“No, you don’t,” Skye replied smoothly. “But if it has anything to do with Kayla’s murder, I really need to know.”
“Why?” Xenia’s voice was bitter. “Nothing will help Kayla now.”
“That’s true,” Skye agreed. “But once you kill someone, it’s much easier to do it a second time.”
“So you’re worried about me.” Xenia’s tone was a little less hostile.
“Yes, I am.” Skye stuffed her purchase into her tote bag.
“Why?”
“Because you’re my friend.” Skye realized that was true. She did regard the prickly teen as a friend. “And I don’t want to see anything bad happen to you.”
“Say I believe you. I can’t talk about it here.” Xenia glanced over her shoulder. “I get off work in twenty minutes. Meet me at my car.”