Murder of a Creped Suzette

“You believe me about not knowing you had moved behind me?” Wally called through the glass shower door in Skye’s newly renovated bathroom.

“Of course. You’ve proven time and again you’d take a bullet for me, so I’m sure you wouldn’t duck a paintball.”

“Anytime, darlin’.” Wally’s voice was husky. “For a minute there, before I realized the gun fired paint pellets, I . . . I almost lost it and shot Glenda for real.”

“I know, sweetie.” Skye scrubbed her neck, feeling Wally’s love wrapping around her. “Except for a little cosmetic damage, I’m fine.”

“It’s a good thing, or I’d round up every one of the Doozier clan and use ’em for target practice.”

“Uh-huh.” Skye showered in silence for a while, then said, “So do you agree that Owen’s job at the llama and emu ranch has something to do with where he was last Saturday and why he won’t give you his alibi for that time?”

“Yes.” Wally stood at the sink, wiping away stray paint spatters from his clothing. “Do you think MeMa was telling the truth about Olive?”

“Olive does fit the description, and she and Dante have always driven Cadillacs.” Skye poured more shampoo into her hand and started washing her hair for the fifth time. Fishy-smelling orange lather ran down the drain. “I hate to say this, but if I were married to someone who treated me as heartlessly as Dante treats her, I’d sure be having an affair.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Wally’s tone was wry as he patted dry his wet pants leg. “I’m thinking we should tackle Owen first, since we need to talk to Olive when the mayor isn’t around.”

“Plus Owen will be a lot less complicated.” Skye scoured orange flecks from her wrists and hands. She had taken the paintball hit between the shoulder blades, so her shirt had received the worst of the damage, but the paint had splashed outward like a gelatinous water balloon, drenching every exposed patch of skin.

“We should try to speak to Owen alone, too.” Skye stepped out of the shower and Wally handed her a towel. “What time is it?”

“Let’s check the llama and emu ranch for Owen first.” Skye wrapped the towel around herself and picked up a wide-toothed comb. “This is around the time Owen was missing last Saturday. Maybe it’s his regular shift there.”

Wally and Skye pulled into the Kankakee Exotic Animal Ranch at four twenty-nine. The lane wound through pastures of llamas and emus, dead-ending at a huge barn and corral. Owen was carrying a bale of hay when they approached him.

As soon as he spotted Skye and Wally, his usually impassive expression was replaced by one of defeat, and he hurled the hay bale to the ground. “I should have known keeping a secret in these parts would be impossible.”

“Sorry, Owen.” Wally stepped forward and clapped the unhappy man on the shoulder. “If it’s any consolation, we’ll keep this information completely confidential.”

“The Dooziers saw you here,” Wally explained. “They mentioned it when we were out at their place investigating a complaint.”

“Is this where you were last Saturday when you claimed to be having a drink with a friend?” Wally asked.

Wally and Skye had decided that Wally’d be the best one to question Owen, so Skye leaned against a stall and tried to blend into the background.

“Yes. This is where I am whenever I’m not home.” Owen stared at his work boots. “The owner can vouch for me.”

“Trixie doesn’t know that in order to buy the llama and emu herds, I agreed to work off the debt.” Owen’s face crumpled. “She complains I don’t spend enough time with her. If she found out I took on another job, it would have set her off something fierce.”

“An affair?” Owen’s eyes bulged. “Hell, no.” He shot Wally a dark look, then said, “So that’s what this was all about. You thought I was sleeping with that singer who got killed, and then for some reason I murdered her?”

“She was seen getting out of a truck similar to yours last Saturday night.” Wally’s tone was unapologetic. “We had to check out the possibility. We’ve been talking to all the locals who own black pickups. If you had just cooperated, we could have crossed you off our list long ago.”

“I’ve never even looked twice at another woman. I love my wife.” Owen shook his head. “That’s why I work so hard. I want her to have nice things.”

Owen stuck out his chin. “Just because someone doesn’t love you the way you want them to doesn’t mean they don’t love you with all they’ve got.”

But was that enough? Skye was afraid this might be Trixie’s breaking point. Trixie loved Owen, but he kept using all his energy to make money, then had no time left for her. Some rifts in a marriage couldn’t be healed.

Sunday morning, despite Father Burns’s wonderful sermon, Skye didn’t experience the serenity she usually felt when she attended Mass—probably because she and Wally planned to approach Olive after church. It would be the perfect time, because Dante always ate breakfast with his cronies while his wife went home to start Sunday dinner. If Skye and Wally arrived at the Leofantis’ shortly after Olive got back from the nine o’clock service, they’d likely find her alone.

Skye had gone to the same Mass as her aunt and uncle to make sure neither of them varied their usual routine. Now she drove over to pick up Wally. They had agreed Olive might talk more freely if they went together in her car and Wally wasn’t in uniform.

After exchanging greetings with Wally, Skye was silent for the five-minute ride to her aunt and uncle’s farm. She was discouraged by their lack of progress in the murder investigation. Even with all the information they’d gathered in the past six days, they still seemed no closer to solving Suzette’s murder.

Just before the lane leading to Dante and Olive’s house, Skye spotted something new. She nudged Wally. “Take a look.”

A series of four small signs read:

If you want peace
Prepare for war.
For safety at home
Guns even the score.

“Surprising he wants to open the town up to so many strangers,” Skye mused. “You’d think the last thing he’d want was a bunch of outsiders invading his kingdom.”

“I’ll step in when the time is right.” Wally exited the car, walked around the hood, and held out his hand to Skye.

The mayor and his wife lived in a rambling trilevel perched on the southern edge of their acreage, surrounded by a large yard studded with mature trees. Clearly someone had recently raked the lawn, because there wasn’t a leaf in sight, and Skye would bet a year’s salary that that someone was her aunt, not her uncle.

Olive opened the door within seconds of Skye’s ringing the bell. “Skye, Chief, what a surprise. Were you looking for the mayor?”

Brandy, the Leofantis’ golden retriever, stood by Olive’s side. The canine’s shiny fur lay in perfect silken order.

“No, Aunt Olive. We wanted to see you.” Skye reached down and stroked Brandy’s head. “Sorry for dropping in, but it was important to speak to you when Uncle Dante wasn’t here.”

“Why is that?” Olive’s expression was uncertain, but she motioned them inside. “Well, no matter—you’re always welcome to come by.”

“Thank you.” Skye felt terrible that they were about to accuse this sweet woman of adultery, but they had to check out anyone who had a motive to kill Suzette.

As Olive led them toward the kitchen, she said, “I hope you don’t mind if we sit in here. I’m in the middle of making dinner.”

Brandy followed them, and when Skye took a seat at the table, the dog lay at her feet. She felt comforted by the animal’s presence. While Olive bustled around pouring them coffee, Skye gazed at the decor. Unlike the rest of the house, which was done in brocade and velvet, with stunning floral arrangements and beautifully framed art, the sunny yellow kitchen was cozy rather than elegant. Chintz curtains, an obviously well-used oak table and chairs, and whimsical prints on the wall all added to the warmth.

Olive placed a tray of cookies between Skye and Wally and sat down. The three of them chatted about the weather and the family for a while.

Finally, Olive glanced at the wall clock and said, “Dante will be home in twenty minutes. What did you need to talk to me about?”

Skye took a deep breath. “I’m sorry to have to bring this up, but we recently learned that many, many years ago you knew Suzette Neal’s father.” Skye paused, then said as gently as she could, “In fact, we understand that you and he were very close.”

“From what we’ve been told, you were much more than friends.” Skye bit her lip. This was even harder than she’d thought it would be. “You had an affair with him. Didn’t you?”

“No. That’s ridiculous.” Olive’s fair skin became nearly translucent. “Who told you that?”

“The Neals’ cleaning lady saw you and Quentin in your car.” Skye covered her aunt’s hand with her own. “We aren’t here to judge you, but we need to know what happened back then and if it has anything to do with Suzette’s murder.”

“I was probably just giving him a ride home from choir practice.” Olive tried to smile, but her lips were trembling. “As I recall, they only had one car, and he often walked to the church so his wife could use it.”

“The cleaning lady saw you kissing him, and not on the cheek.” Skye tightened her grip on Olive’s fingers.

“She must have been mistaken.” Olive shook her head. “It was so long ago, maybe she misremembered.”

“The neighbor across the street saw you as well.” Skye knew she couldn’t let her aunt pretend the affair had never happened. “We don’t intend to share this information with Dante, or anyone else, unless it’s pertinent to Suzette’s murder.”

The ticking of the grandfather clock in the living room marked off the seconds until Olive spoke, tears in her eyes. “I loved him so much.” This time her smile was sincere and tremulous. “He was such a wonderful man. He made me feel beautiful and smart and happy.”

Olive nodded. “I knew what we were doing was wrong, and I never asked him to leave his family for me, but I just wanted something sweet in my life.” Olive wiped a tear from her cheek. “Even if it was only for a little while.”

“I understand. And I wouldn’t bring this up except that the neighbor who saw you kissing Quentin in the car also saw you at his house the day his wife died. In fact, just before the ambulance arrived.”

If possible, Olive’s face paled even more. She opened her mouth, but at first no words came out. After a few seconds, she said, “It really was an accident.”

“Paulette called me and asked me to come over.” Olive gazed over Skye’s head as if looking into the past. “She said it was about a committee we were both on, but as soon as I got there she started yelling at me about the affair.”

“I told her I would end it and I never meant to hurt her or her family, but she didn’t believe me.” Olive’s voice was barely audible. “I tried to explain that I was sorry, that I had just wanted a little bit of kindness and warmth, but she lunged at me. I leaped aside—I’d trained to be a ballet dancer before I married Dante—but Paulette couldn’t stop her momentum. She fell and hit her head on the corner of a marble-topped table. I couldn’t get her to wake up and there was so much blood.”

“Can you show us where all this happened?” Skye pulled the flyer with the house plan out of her tote and laid it in front of her aunt.

“I was looking for the phone—you know, back then there were no cells, and most people only had one telephone in the whole house.” Olive shook her head. “But Quentin walked in the door before I found it, saw what had happened, and ordered me to leave.”

“Yes.” Olive put her hands over her face. “Up until then, I had no idea the twins were in the house, but he told me they were there and he’d handle everything.”

“No.” Olive shook her head. “Quentin checked and said she didn’t have a pulse. He said he’d clean up the blood and put her in the bathroom so it would look as if she’d slipped in the tub.”

While Wally asked several additional questions, Skye considered what her aunt had told her and whether she believed Olive’s story. Olive had had no warning that Skye and Wally would be confronting her, and once she’d admitted to the affair, she had given her account of Paulette’s death with no hesitation.

Yes. Skye nodded to herself. She did believe her aunt. Olive had never been a good liar, and Skye was sure she would have been able to tell if her aunt hadn’t been telling the truth. What a relief that Paulette’s death was truly an accident—but what a waste of a life.

“Quentin blamed himself, you know.” Olive’s voice broke into Skye’s musings. She sounded as if she were saying aloud something she’d thought about for years. “He wasn’t the same man after that. And then, one day, he and the children were just gone.”

“No.” Olive looked surprised. “I didn’t put together who she was until after her death. Quentin always called her Suzie, and Neal is a fairly common name.”

“But you were the one who stole the contents of the police file on Paulette Neal’s accident, weren’t you?” Wally raised a brow.

Olive looked Wally in the eye. “Yes. I overheard you talking to Dante on his cell phone. You said you were going to look for it that afternoon. I was afraid something in it might connect me to Quentin, so I borrowed Dante’s key to the storage facility and took it. Do you want it back?”

Olive pushed away from the table, rose, and crossed over to a cupboard. She took out a box of spaghetti, opened the flap, and pulled out the rolled-up pages. “Here.”

Wally got to his feet. “Okay.” He, Skye, and Olive moved to the foyer. “We won’t mention any of this to Dante unless it turns out to have something to do with Suzette’s murder.”

As Wally flipped through the pages of the police report, Skye put the Bel Air in reverse and drove away.

Several minutes passed while Wally read. Finally he said, “As I predicted, the accident report is short—only three pages—and contains minimal information about the incident. Nothing we didn’t already know.” He replaced the paper clip and threw the pages in the backseat. “We’re back to square one.”