Murder of an Open Book (Scumble River Mystery, Band 18) - Softcover

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Denise Swanson is the New York Times bestselling author of the Scumble River mystery series, including Murder of a Needled Knitter, and the Devereaux’s Dime Store mystery series, including Dying for a Cupcake. She worked as a school psychologist for twenty-two years before quitting to write full-time. She lives in Illinois with her husband, classical composer David Stybr, and their cool black cat, Boomerang.

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Acknowledgments

CHAPTER 1

LOL—Laugh out Loud

Skye Denison-Boyd adjusted the straps of her bathing suit, then kicked off from the edge of the swimming pool. Her goal was to make it to the other end without losing her breakfast. Not that a couple of soda crackers and a cup of tea was much of a meal, but that was all she’d been able to tolerate in the mornings for the past month. And some days, even the saltines didn’t stay down.

Refusing to think about tossing her cookies—or to be more specific, crackers—Skye concentrated on improving her butterfly stroke. Seven years ago, when she first returned to her hometown and started working as a psychologist for the Scumble River school district, she had swum most weekday mornings and often on Saturdays and Sundays as well. In the summer, she used the local recreational club, a lake formed from a reclaimed coal mine. And when it was cold, she did laps in the high school’s highly debated pool.

Due to the source of its financing, the swimming pool was a hot topic among the Scumble River citizens. A while back, the district had received some extra tax money from the construction of a nearby nuclear power plant, but instead of buying more up-to-date textbooks or employing additional teachers, the school board had spent the funds on athletic equipment and a pool.

The board members had been hoodwinked by a fast-talking salesman and a group of parents with their own agendas. It was the one time in anyone’s memory that the board president, Skye’s godfather, Charlie Patukas, had lost a vote. Because of that, she’d always felt a little guilty when she used the facility.

Those ambivalent feelings had helped her make excuses to skip her daily swims until eventually she rarely, if ever, swam at all. But a couple of months ago, after returning from her honeymoon, Skye had vowed to get back to her previous exercise routine. And a little bit of nausea was not going to stop her. Besides, the doctor had said that swimming might actually help the morning sickness.

Which reminded her, when she wiggled into her bathing suit at home, she’d noticed a definite baby bump. Up until now, because of her already generous curves, there hadn’t been much danger that anyone would notice the three or four extra pounds she was carrying. Evidently, that anonymity was about to end.

She and her husband, Wally, would have to make some kind of announcement soon, or speculation would sweep the town. Scumble River’s main drag wasn’t known as Blabbermouth Basin Street for nothing.

Skye and Wally’s motives for keeping mum about the blessed event were due in part to Wally’s concerns about revealing the pregnancy prior to the completion of the first trimester. Furthermore, they hadn’t wanted to take the spotlight away from Skye’s brother and sister-in-law’s baby shower, which was scheduled for Saturday.

However, the most compelling reason for them to keep quiet as long as possible was Skye’s mother. May had a tendency to be a bit overbearing—okay, a lot overbearing. And as soon as she found out her daughter was pregnant, she would try to take over her life. Compared to May, D. B. Cooper was an amateur skyjacker.

May had waited a long time for grandchildren. Both Skye and her brother, Vince, had married relatively late—Skye had been thirty-six and Vince nearly forty—which meant May had been ready to be a grandmother for close to twenty years. And although Skye hoped her mother would be distracted by Vince’s baby, she was pretty darn sure May would find the time to drive her daughter crazy as well. As an equal-opportunity meddler, May would make sure neither of her children felt neglected. She wouldn’t want either of them to think the other was her favorite.

Wincing at the thought of her mother’s reaction to her pregnancy, Skye reached the opposite end of the pool. Performing a perfect flip turn, she started back, happy that she felt less queasy and determined to put May out of her mind.

Willing herself to relax and enjoy the sensation of the water sliding over her skin, Skye focused on her dolphin kick. Because the butterfly was one of the most exhausting strokes and she hadn’t yet rebuilt the strength to swim more than a few lengths of the pool before having to rest, she wanted to put the time she had to the best use.

March in Illinois had been chillier than usual, but in the heated pool, Skye could pretend that she was back on her honeymoon. Even though the cruise had been full of surprises—including a dead body—she and Wally had both been able to unwind from their demanding lives and have an unforgettable trip.

Wally, as the chief of the Scumble River Police Department, had been badly in need of a break. Although the town’s population was just a shade over three thousand, between the devious mayor and several murders, the community in no way resembled Mayberry. Which meant that Wally’s work was no Andy Griffith kind of job.

Skye’s position as the sole mental-health professional for the entire school district kept her stress level in the head-about-to-explode range as well. Add planning a wedding during the frantic Christmas holidays and her psych-consultant contract with the PD, and she, too, had been more than ready for a vacation.

Their honeymoon had been wonderful, but now that they’d been back for two and a half months, Skye had a feeling that their downtime was about to end. This was the final week before spring break, which in Skye’s world meant frazzled teachers and students with cabin fever.

For Wally, kids out of school required preparing his officers for hordes of unoccupied teens with way too much time on their hands. Not many Scumble River families could afford to take off from their jobs and jet off to Florida or the Caribbean. So while they were busy making a living, their offspring were often left unsupervised and looking for something to do.

Skye finished her fifth lap, and as she rested against the side of the pool, she checked the clock on the far wall. It was only six thirty. Staff was required to be on duty at seven twenty, while students started their school day at ten to eight. Allowing half an hour to style her hair, slap on some makeup, and put on her clothes, she had fifteen minutes before she had to get out of the water and start to dress.

Because of her nausea, Skye had been up an hour before her normal time, and she’d gotten to the pool much earlier than usual. When she’d turned in to the school’s driveway, there hadn’t been a single car in the parking lot. Even the custodian’s old red Silverado pickup wasn’t in its usual spot by the Dumpster yet.

She’d used her key to enter through the back door of the empty building and made her way to the gym. The pool area’s only entrance, except for an alarmed emergency exit, was through the student locker rooms. As she’d passed through the girls’ side, she’d stripped off her sweat suit and placed it and her bag on one of the benches. The locked duffel held what she would need to get ready for the school day, as well as her purse and the leather tote full of files she’d brought home on Friday to work on over the weekend.

Most mornings there were other staff members using the pool, but because she’d arrived so early, the place had been deserted. At the time, even though Skye knew she shouldn’t swim without a buddy, she’d been happy to have the water to herself. It was nice not to have to worry about colliding with another swimmer or slowing someone else down. However, now it felt as if she was no longer alone. Had someone else arrived to take a...