Denise Swanson - Murder of a Sleeping Beauty

January 1: I told Mother today that I was quitting everything—the pageants, cheerleading, and especially the pills. I’m tired of the competition, tired of being judged by how I look, and tired of my so-called friends who would stab me in the back for a crown or a trophy. My life is nothing but one big lie.

January 2: Mother is still furious. After she kept me up all night screaming and crying, I finally caved and agreed to finish out the cheerleading season, perform in the play, and do one last pageant—Miss Central Illinois. But I won about the pills. As of today no more diet pills.

January 16: Mrs. VanHorn has been so nice. I’m a little surprised. I never thought she liked me that much, but she’s really supported my decisions to quit competing. She says she wishes she could stop Zoë from feeling she has to be the best at everything. I love stopping by after school. Mrs. V is an excellent baker. Her chocolate chip cookies are to die for.

January 29: Zoë can’t seem to make up her mind. One day she’s cheering me on about my decision to quit all the activities and the next she’s saying that we won’t be popular if I don’t do what I’ve always done. Plus Zoë is really grossed out that I’ve gained weight and went up a dress size. She’s always after me to go back on the diet pills.

March 10: Okay, how much weight am I going to gain? None of my clothes fit, and Mother claims we don’t have the money for a new wardrobe. She actually suggested I try throwing up if I wouldn’t go back on the pills. Today they took the measurements for the Sleeping Beauty costumes and it was humiliating. I could hear the snickers when they yelled out my hip size. Thirty-seven inches, my gawd, I’m almost as big as Fat Frannie.

March 16: I can’t stand it anymore. Mother has started to leave boxes of laxatives in my room. She monitors every morsel I put in my mouth. I hated to do it, but today I started taking the diet pills again. I had to. Even Kenny has stopped saying I’m beautiful. I thought because he was older, he’d be less obsessed by my being thin, but he barely wants to have sex with me anymore. I think breaking up with Troy was a mistake.

March 30: The pills aren’t working as well as they used to, so I’ve doubled the dosage. Missed my period this month. An advantage of taking the diet pills I’d forgotten. I guess I was stupid to try and stop.

There was nothing about being pregnant, and Skye was convinced that the teen was unaware that she was going to have a baby. And if Lorelei didn’t suspect, the father surely couldn’t know, which eliminated motives for both Kent and Troy.

April 13: The pills don’t seem to be working anymore. I’m still gaining weight. I measured myself this morning. I’m now officially fat. I’m a size eight. I’ve decided to take three pills at a time.

Skye took a deep breath. That was the last entry, the day before she died. Lorelei must have felt as if she were the bone, and everyone she knew was a dog trying to take a bite. Maybe she had killed herself after all.

No, Skye was almost certain that wasn’t the case. The circumstances just didn’t fit what she knew of teen suicide—no note, no giving away of personal items, and why would she crush the pills into her juice rather than swallow them whole?

The more she thought about it, the more she believed that the killer was Priscilla VanHorn, who had wanted to eliminate Lorelei from competing with Zoë—especially if the woman had found out Lorelei was taking the diet drugs again. It was clear from the diary that Lorelei was used to accepting food and drink from Priscilla. With Troy and Kent out of the running, Zoë’s mother had the strongest motive. She certainly had the opportunity—she had been at the school that morning, and very likely saw Lorelei in the hall. That left only means. The pills would be easy enough to get, but did she have access to that type of juice? Surely, she would have used whatever was handy.

The phone had rung several times while Skye had been reading, and she had let the machine take the calls. Now she dragged herself into the kitchen, poured a can of Diet Coke over ice, and punched the play button.

May’s voice ricochetted off the walls. “Where are you? It’s after nine on a school night. Are you okay?”

Charlie was next. “I heard they arrested Kent Walker. Call me right away.”

The last call was from Simon. “Hi, thanks for the heads-up about Frannie and Justin. Xavier and I gave them a good scare, as you suggested, but we told them they could work off their ‘fine’ this summer around the funeral home. Sorry you were blamed for their crime. I’m looking forward to our youth committee meeting Friday.”

His warm tone soothed Skye’s frazzled nerves. She reached for the phone, but noticed it was after eleven. Too late to return his call.

Instead, Skye got ready for bed. She stretched out on the crisp cotton sheets and tried to relax. Bingo burrowed into the crook of her knees, purring. But instead of sleep, various ways of proving that Priscilla had killed Lorelei played in her head.

By 3 A.M. she was annoyed, by four concerned, and by five resigned to a sleepless night. Fighting fatigue, Skye got up, dressed, and headed to work. At least it was Wednesday. The week was half-over.

Once again, Skye arrived at the high school well before anyone else. Before her swim, she photocopied the diary, intending to give the original to Wally sometime that day. Her stack of evidence was growing. Too bad it didn’t point to any one person.

The first bell had yet to ring, and already she had returned both Simon’s call and her mother’s. Boy, if a person could eliminate the need to sleep, she could really get a lot done.

She was dialing Charlie’s number when he walked into her office and kissed her on the forehead. “So, did Walker kill her?”

“I don’t think so.” Skye craned her neck to look him in the eye. “Sit down.”

“Can’t. I’ve got lots to do this morning.” Charlie ran his fingers through his snow-white hair. “Got to do damage control.”

“Concentrate on the affair.”

Charlie’s face turned red. “But who did kill that girl?”

“I think it was Priscilla VanHorn.” Skye sketched out her reasoning, telling him about her discovery of the diary.

“Not enough to get an arrest.” Charlie paced the room. “Have you told Wally any of this?”

“No. Like you said, I don’t have any proof.”

“I’ll drop the diary off, so you don’t have to be involved with that.”

“Thanks. I think Wally’ll look at it with less prejudice if it doesn’t come from me. How are you going to explain having it?”

“I had a hunch, came over this morning and looked, and there it was.” Charlie moved to the door. “We really need to figure out something before this stuff with Kent Walker permanently damages the school’s reputation.”

I think it’s too late to save our reputation. “It’d also be nice if he didn’t go to jail for a crime he didn’t commit.”

“Yeah.” As Charlie stepped out the door, his voice trailed back into the room, “I’m real worried about that.”

The rest of the day was a total waste. Skye was unable to concentrate on any of her duties or figure out what she should do next about Lorelei’s murder. Finally, a few minutes before the final bell, she had a glimmer of an idea. The key to the murderer’s identity was the juice bottle. It was so unusual that only one chain of stores in the Chicago area carried it. Which meant that odds were, the person in Scumble River who drank it was the killer.

So, if Skye went to the VanHorn’s house and saw bottles of Sea Mist Herbal Enhanced Juice there, then Priscilla was the murderer. She knew finding the drink would never be enough to convict the woman, but she’d figure out how to do that once she knew for sure who the killer was.