“What took you so long to answer?” the voice at the other end demanded.
“Who is this?” Skye asked.
“It’s Aunt Mona.”
“Oh, hi. Is everything okay?”
Mona’s tone changed. “Everything is fine. I know it’s short notice, but Uncle Neal and I were wondering if you could come to dinner tomorrow night. We really haven’t had a chance to chat since you’ve been home.”
Dinner with her Aunt Mona and Uncle Neal—there was an appealing scenario. But it was a chance to ask them some questions about Grandma.
“Gee, Aunt Mona, that would be lovely. Can I bring anything?” Skye cradled the handset and went back to washing dishes.
“No, we’re just having a simple meal. How’s six o’clock for you?”
“Fine. You sure I can’t bring anything?”
“No, just yourself. We’ll see you at six then. Bye.”
There was something odd about the conversation. What was wrong with that picture?
Skye finished up at the sink and dried the counter with the towel. She glanced at the clock, and noticed she had less than fifteen minutes to freshen up and drive to Trixie’s.
Settling for a quick brush of her hair and some lipstick, Skye made it to her friend’s house with a minute to spare. Trixie was waiting on the front steps, and hopped into the car before it finished gliding to a stop.
Trixie and Skye talked about the brunch and what Victoria had revealed until they reached the drugstore.
“What’s your cousin’s name?” Skye asked as she pushed open the glass door.
The sleigh bells that warned the pharmacist of incoming customers almost drowned out Trixie’s answer. “Amy.”
A young woman in her late teens stood behind the drug counter in the back of the store. She waved at Trixie, who took Skye’s arm and guided her down the aisle.
“Good timing. Mr. Bates just left and there’s no one in the store.” Amy smiled at Trixie.
“This is my friend Skye. Skye, this is my cousin Amy,” Trixie said while fingering the products on the counter.
Skye held out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Amy. I really appreciate this.”
Amy took three of Skye’s fingers for a brief shake. “No problem. Trixie explained everything.” Skye hated it when women didn’t know how to properly shake hands, but she swallowed the temptation to teach Amy the correct form and instead said, “My aunt’s name is Minnie Overby. Can you see if she filled a prescription for any type of tranquilizer or sleeping pill within the last month or so?”
“Easy as pie, now that we’re finally using the computer.” Amy tapped a few keys and waited.
Skye held her breath.
“No, no medication of any kind for Minnie Overby within the last six months.” Amy patted the machine. “That’s as far back as the records go.”
“Thanks.” That had been a waste. What did it prove? Nothing, except Minnie didn’t get her prescription filled in town. Skye’s shoulders drooped.
Suddenly she straightened. “Would you mind checking one more name for me?”
“Not at all.”
“Try the last name Leofanti and see what you get.” Skye wasn’t sure what she expected to find.
After a minute or two, Amy looked up from the screen. “I’ve got lots of Leofantis but only one with a tranq or sleeping pill.”
“Who?” Skye tried to see the monitor.
“Just an initial.” Amy frowned. “That’s unusual. We’re not supposed to accept anything but full names. No initials, no nicknames.”
“What letter?” Skye tried to keep the impatience from her voice.
“That explains it.” Amy went on as if she didn’t hear Skye. “This was filled on a day I was out sick, and Mr. Bates’s mother helped out.”
Trixie broke in. “Amy, honey, we’re dying of curiosity. What is the initial?”
“Oh, sorry. It’s M.”
Skye turned onto her back, trying desperately to fall asleep, but disturbing thoughts kept drifting through her subconscious. Was M. Leofanti the same as Minnie Overby? Where was Castleview building his next development, which was such a secret? What was she going to tell the superintendent?
When her alarm went off, Skye gratefully climbed out of bed and into the shower. She mentally reviewed her wardrobe. What was the appropriate clothing in which to be fired?
She finally threw on a pair of white slacks, striped T-shirt, and a navy blazer. After preparing breakfast for Bingo and herself, she grabbed the atlas and wrote out the directions to Miss Prynn’s while she drank her tea. Skye felt a little uneasy to be going there alone, but she could think of no one else who was available. Simon was certainly out of the question. A sense of loss suddenly nipped through her. Fighting that feeling, she forced herself to move from the table and prepare to leave.
The stack of tens and twenties made only a small bulge in the envelope Skye had tucked them in, but between this money and the check for Victoria’s ruined dress, her budget was destroyed for the summer.
It was nearly ten by the time Skye turned onto Avenue D. Narrowing her eyes against the glare, she carefully read the numbers. As she neared Miss Prynn’s house, she noticed a police car parked in front.
Skye pulled the Buick a few spaces behind the squad car and hurried up the steps.
Before she could ring the bell, a young police officer thrust open the door. “What’s your business here?”
“It’s about my aunt,” Skye answered without thinking and then could have bitten her tongue.
“You’re her niece?”
Skye was confused, but had a feeling if she said no, that would be the end of the conversation. The only reason the police would be answering Miss Prynn’s door was if something was terribly wrong. “Yes, her niece.”
The officer opened the door wider and gestured Skye inside. “I’m sorry to have to tell you that your aunt passed away sometime between noon yesterday and eight this morning. A friend who dropped her off from church stopped this morning to return a handkerchief that had been left in her car and found Miss Prynn dead. We’ve been looking for next of kin.”
“But Mi . . . Aunt Esther hadn’t been ill. Do you know the cause of death?” She could feel her heart accelerating. This whole thing reminded Skye of her grandmother’s murder.
“I don’t think I’m supposed to discuss that, ma’am. Ah . . . let me ask Officer Spratt.” He pulled a walkie-talkie out of his belt. “He’s checking with the neighbors.”
She looked at the officer a little more closely. There was something odd about his attire. For one thing he didn’t seem to have a gun. “Are you a Chicago policeman? Your uniform looks different.”
His face reddened. “Well, ah, no. I’m a citizen volunteer. But I’ll be going to the academy as soon as I pass the test.”
Skye thought fast. If she handled this the right way she could get information the police would never share with her. “How wonderful,” she gushed. “That’s just what our city needs, more officers like you. Maybe then I’ll feel safe walking down the streets again.”
His chest puffed out. “No need to worry once I’m on duty, ma’am.”
“You’re so brave.” She forced out a tear. “I’m so upset about my aunt’s death. I feel like it must be my fault for not taking better care of her. But I saw her on Saturday and she looked healthy. How did you say she died?” Skye held her breath, wondering if he’d fall for it.
“She was found in the bathroom. She must have had a bad case of the flu.” Color crept up from his collar. “You know, lots of older people die that way. There’s nothing you could have done, ma’am.”
Now I’ve done it. I can’t mention Grandma’s murder without admitting I’m not Miss Prynn’s niece. Maybe she really did die of natural causes. What did that book say about the symptoms of the poison used on Grandma?