Denise Swanson - Murder of a Sleeping Beauty

“I’d rather not explain it twice, just get the chief, okay?”

Skye had opened her mouth to say no, it wasn’t okay, when she caught a glimpse of Wally standing alone. This was her chance.

She hurried over to one side of the stage just as he squatted down. “Wally, could I speak to you for a moment?”

He straightened and glared at her. “Didn’t I tell you to sit on the bleachers and not move?”

He had, and she’d forgotten. “Sorry, I haven’t touched anything.”

“That’s something.” He crouched again. “So, what’s so urgent?”

“Um, well, Kent Walker, the director of the musical, would like to come into the gym, and Deputy McCabe won’t let him.”

“As per my orders,” Wally answered distractedly, his nose almost touching the floor. “Why does he need to be here?”

Skye tried to see what Wally was staring at. It looked like a small piece of tinsel. “He wanted to talk to you about that.”

“And you didn’t insist on knowing?” Wally got to his feet. “Then it’s true. You two are an item.”

“What?” Her eyebrows came together.

“Never mind. Let’s go talk to Mr. Kent Walker.”

CHAPTER 2

Waste of Death

Skye trailed after Wally as he approached the gym doors. Deputy McCabe stood talking to the crowd that had continued to gather. There was no sign of Kent.

The chief stopped at the entrance and turned to her. “Where’s Walker?”

She shrugged. “Maybe he went to the bathroom.”

Wally spoke to Deputy McCabe. “Where did Kent Walker go?”

“Who?” The deputy wrinkled his brow.

Skye pushed past the chief. “The guy you wouldn’t let into the gym.”

“Lots of those. I think nearabouts every parent in Scumble River is trying to get in here.”

Skye blew a curl out of her eyes. “The one yelling my name.”

“Oh, the fella with the funny way of talking. Is he English or something?”

“No, he’s from Boston.”

“Oh, well. He said something about having to go, and walked off.”

“That’s all he said?”

“Yeah.” McCabe twisted his face in thought. “No. Said to tell you he’d see you later.”

Skye felt her face burn. Wally probably thought she had used this whole incident with Kent just to get his attention.

The chief narrowed his eyes, and Skye waited for the explosion. Instead he said sarcastically, “If there’s nothing else you or your friends require, I’ll get back to work now.” He turned on his heel and started away from the door, then stopped and told Skye, “Go sit on the bleachers.”

“Wally?”

“Yes?”

“I really need to make some phone calls. Couldn’t I just go to the office? I won’t leave the building.”

“No.”

“Why not?” Skye searched his face, but it was blank of emotion. “Could I at least call Justin Boward’s family? They’ll be wondering where he is.”

“I’ll have an officer call. Do you have his number?”

Skye shook her head. “But we can ask Justin.” She turned toward the bleachers. “Where’d he go?”

The chief gave her a disgusted look. “You sit down. I’ll go find him.”

“But . . .” Skye trailed off. Wally was already striding away.

She examined her surroundings. There was nowhere to hide in the gym. It was just a large room with wooden floors and high ceilings. The sidewalls were made up of bleachers folded flat, except for the one extended bench on which she and Justin had been seated, and two locked doors marked GIRLS and BOYS that led to the locker rooms. On the back wall were two sets of double doors. Those to the right were chained shut, and Deputy McCabe guarded the others.

In front and up a short flight of stairs was the stage. It was brightly lit and crawling with police officers examining the scene, sketching, videotaping, and snapping pictures. Others were dusting for fingerprints and collecting evidence.

A door on either side at gym level led to the backstage area. Skye bet that was where Justin had disappeared to. She scanned the area. Wally was talking to a deputy. No one seemed to be looking for the boy. She edged closer to the door on the left. She could hear the officers on the stage talking. One mentioned a pool of vomit near the curtain that he had almost stepped in. Yech! She was glad she hadn’t noticed that bit of evidence.

A quick glance assured her that no one was paying attention to her. Maybe she could take a fast look and be back before the chief noticed. Justin was her responsibility, and she needed to make sure he was okay.

Skye entered the darkened concrete stairwell. There were five steps leading upward. The light from the gym provided the only illumination, and she was surprised to feel a little afraid. Which was silly—the place was crawling with police; nothing could happen to her.

At the top, she paused. Was that voices she heard? To her left was a room used for makeup and dressing, but the sounds were coming from the opposite direction. She carefully eased through the small passage formed from the space between the wall and the stage’s back curtain.

As she approached the room on the other side, the voices stopped. The door stood ajar, and she peered inside. This area was used to store sets and costumes. A space in the back had been cleared and a desk set up for the director.

Standing in the shadows was a male figure. He moved slightly, and Skye saw who it was. “Justin Boward, what are you doing back here?”

The boy shrugged, his face sullen. “Looking around. Nothing to get bent about.”

“Is there someone else back here with you?”

“Nah.”

Skye decided to pursue that later. She scanned the area. There was no sign of disturbance. “We’d better get out front before the chief comes looking for us.”

“Too late,” came Wally’s voice from behind them. He aimed his flashlight at Justin. “Stay where you are, son.”

Skye saw the teen’s Adam’s apple bob nervously.

The chief barely glanced at Skye. “You, go sit on the bleachers, like I told you before.”

“No.” She stepped nearer to Justin. “This boy is my responsibility until his parents get here, and I’m staying with him.”

Wally’s features hardened with anger. He started to say something, seemed to change his mind, then spoke through clenched teeth. “Fine. You.” He pointed at Skye. “Keep your mouth shut, or I swear I’ll arrest you for obstruction of justice. You.” He pointed to Justin. “Tell me what you’re doing back here, and why I shouldn’t arrest you for tampering with evidence.”

The boy stared at the chief, then looked beseechingly at Skye. She raised an eyebrow at Wally. They all stood silently.

The chief sighed and spoke to Skye. “Tell him to answer my questions.”

“You told me to keep my mouth shut.”

Wally groaned.

“Right, a foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds. I forgot,” she said, and hastily continued, “Justin, tell the chief what you were doing back here.”

“He’ll be mad.” The boy shuffled his feet and refused to make eye contact.

“Too late again.” Wally shot Justin an angry look.

“Smart, Wally. That’s the way to get someone to talk to you.” Skye turned her back on the chief. “Justin, unless you had something to do with Lorelei’s death, I’m sure the chief won’t care what you were doing.”

“Sure, I’m just concerned about this incident, nothing else,” Wally confirmed. Skye could tell he was trying the “good cop” routine.

“Promise?” Justin asked.

Both adults nodded.

“Okay, I was trying to get out of here. The cop at the door wouldn’t let me go, and then I thought about something I heard in PE class one time.” Justin took a breath. “Someone told me there was a secret door backstage that would lead you out of the gym.”