Denise Swanson - Murder of a Small-Town Honey

While they were waiting for the server to return, Simon asked, "Do you feel like a walk by the lake?"

"What a good idea. It'll be good to feel a fresh breeze after these last couple of weeks of air-conditioning." Skye stood up. "I'll use the rest room and meet you up in front."

They strolled hand in hand down the sidewalk bordering the lake. When the breeze blew a strand of hair into Skye's eyes, Simon tucked it behind her ear. The memory of his touch lingered on her cheek.

The moment was broken when another jogger—-the third one—knocked into Simon. Both the pathway and the beach were teeming with people enjoying both the Labor Day weekend and the break in the heat.

Simon pulled Skye to one side. "Maybe this wasn't such a great idea."

Having had a stroller wheeled over her foot only mo­ments before, Skye had to agree with him. "It is a little crowded. I do have another idea of what to do."

"Sure, whatever you'd like."

Skye grinned wickedly. "Anything?"

Simon faltered. "I... I guess so. What did you have in mind?"

Skye had easily convinced the doorman that she was helping out Honey's uncle. Convincing Simon was a little more difficult.

"Are you sure Charlie asked you to do this?" Simon looked nervously over his shoulder. "Did he clear it with the police?"

Skye, busy trying to figure out how to get the door open without letting Simon see she didn't have a key, didn't reply.

"What are you doing?"

"The key must have slipped out of my pocket when I was in your car. Could you run down and check?" Skye asked.

Once he was gone, she took her trusty Swiss Army knife from her purse and opened it to the thinnest blade. She in­serted it into the space between the door and the jamb and prayed that Honey hadn't invested in a good dead bolt. This only worked with cheap thumb-button locks.

As Simon reappeared at the end of the hall, the door opened and she walked inside.

When he didn't follow immediately she went back, grabbed him by the arm, and pulled him inside, shutting the door behind them.

"So, you found the key after all."

When she didn't answer, he put his hand on her shoul­der. "This is a really bad idea. We could both get into a lot

of trouble. Let's leave before the doorman changes his mind and calls the police."

"No, Charlie asked me to look around for him. You can wait in the car, but I'm going to search Honey's condo." By this time she almost believed that what she said was true.

They were in a tiny foyer. To the left was a small kitchen, straight ahead was a living room, and a short hall­way went to the right.

"Why do you have to search it? I'm sure the police al­ready have."

At the kitchen doorway, Skye was greeted with a scene similar to the one she had found at Charlie's. She stepped aside so Simon could see. "Someone sure has, but I don't think it was the cops."

"Well, that takes care of that. Let's go."

"I'm still going to have a look."

He gestured at the mess in the kitchen. "Anything worth finding is gone."

"Maybe they didn't know what they were looking for and passed it by."

"And you do? Know what you're looking for, I mean."

Skye nodded. "I'll know it when I see it. Look at it this way, now that we don't have to be careful it will be much quicker."

"If there were any other way for you to get home I'd leave you here." Simon's jaw was set, and the muscle in his cheek was rigid.

She laid her hand on his chest and smiled up at him through her lashes. "I appreciate your not abandoning me." Feeling him relax his stance, she continued, "If we both look we'll be out of here that much quicker."

He was examining the last of the shelves in the living room while Skye investigated the bathroom. There had been nothing of interest in the bedroom, the home office, or the kitchen.

It looked as if everything had been ripped apart and left in the middle of the floor. This did not stop Skye from crawling into the cupboard under the sink. Wedged into a corner was a package of Stayfree Maxi Pads. At first glance it appeared to be unopened, but Skye's heart beat faster when she noticed the irregular seam in the plastic.

"Come quick, Simon, I think I've found something," she called excitedly.

His running footsteps faltered when he saw the container she held aloft in one hand. His fair-skinned face turned red. They stared at each other for a moment before Skye giggled and Simon dissolved into laughter.

When she was able to stop, she said, "Okay, so this wasn't what you expected on a first date, but look, this package has been opened and sealed shut again."

He took the container from her and examined it closely. While he was doing that, she got to her feet and dug out her pocketknife. "Give it back and I'll open it."

"Maybe we should take it to the police while it's still sealed," Simon suggested.

"And how would we explain having it?"

"I thought you had Charlie's permission to be here."

Ignoring him, she worked the edge of the blade between the two pieces of melted-together plastic. It opened with ease, further indicating that it had been tampered with be­fore. She reached in and felt among the wrapped pads. Her fingers touched one that was more rigid than the others, and she pulled it out. Peering inside, where the packet wasn't completely fastened, she stuck in two fingers and withdrew a small address book.

On the front was a picture of a puppy and a kitten frol­icking in the grass. Skye looked at Simon and then opened it up. Only a few pages had been written on, and they weren't coyered with addresses. Instead, there were columns of ini­tials and numerals.

Skye refused to talk about their find on the way home. She felt that anyone driving in the city needed to concen­trate on the road and not be distracted, especially anyone driving a beautiful and expensive car like Simon's Lexus.

By the time they reached 1-55 and she could relax her vigil, she was caught up in her own thoughts and didn't want to explain them until she was sure. Digging out a small pad of paper and a pen from her purse, Skye began making notes.

She twisted the pen point back into the casing just as they pulled into her driveway. "I've figured it out."

"You know who the murderer is?" Simon turned toward her with an incredulous look on his face.

"No, but I know what the killer has been searching for and why."

"And the answer is ..." Simon made a "go on" motion with his hand.

"Let's go inside. It'll be easier if I show you."

Simon got out of the car, coming around to Skye's side to help her out, and had them both at the front door in record time. Skye had her keys ready and they were inside and at the kitchen table before the screen door finished swinging shut.

"Would you like something to drink?" Skye indicated the refrigerator.

He smiled stiffly. "No, but I would like to see the object for which I risked getting arrested."

She started to spread out the papers she had been writing on in the car but stopped. "Gee, I'd sort of like a soda be­fore I explain. My throat's awfully dry. Oh, darn, I forgot. I don't have any Diet Coke."

"Skye," he said softly, "show me. Now."

"Fine, be that way." When she finished straightening the sheets, Skye handed him a copy of the address book.

Before they had left the condo, she'd used Honey's well-equipped home office to duplicate the book. Then, after

having carefully wiped her fingerprints off its surface, she had put the original in an envelope addressed to Chief Boyd and dropped it into a mailbox in Chicago.

"See if you can figure it out," she said.

Simon got up and turned his chair around. Resting his chin on the high back, he looked from the copies in his hand to what Skye had written. After a while he asked, "Is this a record of payments?"