Denise Swanson - Murder of a Royal Pain

Skye pushed open the screen door, entered the utility room, and paused to take off her shoes. May had replaced her old rust-colored carpeting with cream last month, and woe to anyone who left a footprint.

After tossing her tote bag on the dryer, Skye pushed open the swinging doors and strode into the large kitchen. Her stocking feet made no sound on the new beige-tiled floor. May had been on a redecorating tear during the summer. The far wall was now painted in grass green-and-white stripes, marble countertops adorned the peninsula, and a new glass and rattan table and chairs graced the dinette.

Skye’s mother stood at the sink, scrubbing potatoes with a vegetable brush. Despite her fifty-nine years and short stature, May’s athletic build reminded Skye of the cheerleader her mother once was. Today she wore denim capris and a pink long-sleeved Cubs T-shirt.

Without looking up from her task, she said, “Supper’s almost ready.” In May’s house no one was invited to eat; it was assumed that if you were around at mealtime you’d pull up a chair and dig in.

Skye noted the time on the square white wall clock—also a new addition. It was five thirty. “Isn’t it a little late for you guys to be eating dinner?” They usually ate at five on the dot.

“We had a lot to do today. Dad’s been in the fields since six. I walked my three miles with Aunt Kitty, Hester, and Maggie, then worked the seven-to-three shift at the station.” May was a dispatcher for the Scumble River police, fire, and emergency departments, which made her disapproval of Wally even more awkward, since as the police chief he was one of her bosses. “When I got home from the PD, I had to clean up the house and do the trim on the lawn.” May frowned. “Besides, you knew we were eating at six tonight.”

Huh? Why did her mom think she knew that? Skye opened her mouth, then decided it was better not to prolong this conversation. If she responded, her mom would want to know what tasks Skye had accomplished that day. Merely doing her job at school would not be counted as enough of an achievement.

Hastily changing the subject, Skye asked, “What are we having?”

“Roast beef, green bean casserole, Grandma Denison’s Parker House rolls, mashed potatoes, and Waldorf salad.”

Yum. She had picked a good night to stop by. The menu sounded more like Sunday dinner than Friday supper. “Grandma shouldn’t still be making rolls from scratch at eighty-five,” Skye said. “It’s too much for her. I thought she was going to stop.”

May dried her hands and gave Skye a pointed look. “Hard work is good for you.”

Skye was saved from responding when her father walked into the utility room. She turned to greet him. “Hi, Dad. Finished with the grass?” A silly question, since he wouldn’t have quit until he was through, but a good way to change the subject.

“Yep.” Jed hitched up his jeans, which hung low to accommodate his belly. “Supper ready, Ma?”

“In half an hour.” May stopped stirring the gravy, and ordered, “You’d better get showered and changed. We’ve got company tonight.”

Jed’s navy T-shirt was sweat-soaked and torn, evidence of his hard work. “Skye’s not company,” he protested.

Not wanting to get involved with her parents’ squabble, Skye looked for something to do. She moved the salt and pepper shakers and the napkin holder from the counter to the table, then opened the cupboard to the left of the sink. Although the plates, glasses, and flatware were where they’d been for as long as she could remember, they were all new, the old ones having been sold in the summer garage sale during May’s recent redecoration binge.

Skye had taken three dishes from the shelf and started to move toward the table when May said, “Aren’t you staying for supper?”

“Huh?”

“You only have three plates.” May held up four fingers. “There are four of us.”

“Four? I thought Vince had a date.”

“No. It’s just you, me, Dad, and Jackie.” May rolled her eyes. “Don’t you remember?”

“What?” Crap! Jackie was just the person Skye didn’t want to see. “How could I remember something I didn’t know?”

“But then, why are you here?”

“I stopped by to visit. You and Dad are leaving for Las Vegas in a couple of weeks, and I wanted to make sure I saw you before you left.”

“But I told Jackie to tell you about supper tonight.” May wrinkled her brow. “Didn’t you see her today?”

“Yes, but, uh . . .” Skye didn’t want to tell her mother about the argument she’d had with her colleague, so she hedged. “We had a lot to talk about; then she had to leave for another school. She must have forgotten to tell me.”

“Well, you’re here.” May nodded, appearing satisfied with Skye’s explanation. “No harm, no foul.”

“Right.” Skye frowned. Except she was now forced to spend an evening with someone she preferred to avoid. “So, how did you meet Jackie?”

“In the grocery store yesterday. She asked me to help her find something and we got to talking.” May turned back to the stove—gravy needed constant stirring or it became lumpy. “She was so sweet. She hung on my every word; then she mentioned that you and she were friends, so I thought it would be nice to have her for a home-cooked meal.”

Why had Jackie been in the grocery store? If she was living at the motor court, she didn’t have a kitchen. She must have been picking up some snacks and soda. The vending machines at Charlie’s would get expensive fast.

“She should be here soon.” May’s voice interrupted Skye’s thoughts. “Go ahead and set the table for four.” May lowered the flame on the burner, then added, “Make sure you put out the real butter for Dad. He won’t touch that Country Crock Light I use for my cholesterol.” May paused and gave Skye another sharp look. “But you’d better use the fake stuff. It looks like you’re gaining weight again.”

Was she? Skye looked down. She couldn’t tell. She refused to weigh herself constantly and worry about every pound, but she hadn’t been swimming every day as she should, and she had stuffed herself with those cookies a few hours ago at school. She guessed it was time to get back into the pool.

“You should have seen it. Mom did everything but spoonfeed Jackie, and Dad actually talked. She got him to tell stories from the four years he spent in the navy right after high school. He even made a joke. He said he had a commanding officer whose baler had run out of twine.”

It was late Saturday afternoon, and Skye was on the telephone with her brother. Vince had just closed up the hair salon he owned. “Well, isn’t that what a social worker is trained to do, get people to talk?” Vince asked. “And Mom feeds everyone.”

“Yes, she cooks and puts the food in front of you, but she doesn’t fork it into your mouth.”

“She did that?”

“Well . . . not exactly, but almost,” Skye admitted. “She put the cream and sugar in her coffee for her, though.”

“You sound jealous.” Vince chuckled. “Aren’t you happy to have someone to divert Mom’s attention from you for a while?”

“Yeah, but . . .” But what? Maybe she was overreacting. Time to change the subject. “So what are you and Loretta doing tonight?” Vince was dating Skye’s sorority sister, Loretta Steiner.

“Nothing.” His tone was unhappy. “She said she was going to District Days this weekend. You were an Alpha Sigma Alpha, too. Why aren’t you going?”

“It must have something to do with the alumni group Loretta belongs to in Naperville. There isn’t one close enough for me to join.”

“Oh.” Vince paused. “But you’ve heard of this weekend thing?”