CHAPTER 11

Early To Bed

Skye sat on the closed toilet seat and watched her mother put on makeup at the counter. Saturday night and nothing to do. Even my parents have plans. My life sucks.

“Maybe we shouldn’t go tonight. Mom only died a few days ago and it feels sort of funny to be going out.”

“The Grandma I knew wouldn’t want you to sit at home and cry. She’d be the first one to arrive at the party and the last to leave.”

Tears ran down May’s cheek. “You’re probably right, but I sure do miss her. I find myself holding the phone and dialing her number before I remember she’s gone.”

“Our after-school visits meant a lot to me.” Skye handed her mother a tissue. “More than I realized at the time. She was quite a ‘high-spirited’ young lady, as they used to say. I kind of got the feeling her family married her off to Grandpa to calm her down.”

May blotted her eyes and blew her nose. “She never would talk about that with me. She wouldn’t even tell me how Dad proposed or about their first date.”

“Grandma said that the marriage had been arranged after her original fiancé died.”

“I never knew that.” May wiped away another tear. “Will you write all this down so you don’t forget?”

“Oh, don’t worry. I taped all our conversations.”

“Good.” May took a deep breath and turned back to the mirror. After a few seconds, she held out two containers of eyeshadow. “Which do you think would look better with my dress?”

“You’re wearing the taupe silk?” Skye studied the palettes. “Go with the shades of wine; I think the brown would wash you out.”

Nodding, May began the delicate operation of applying the color to the crease of her eyelid. “You sure you don’t want to go to the wedding reception with us?”

“Mom, I wasn’t invited, remember?” Skye studied her mother’s handiwork.

“They probably forgot you were back in town.” May clicked the case shut and reached for her mascara. “You really don’t need an invitation. The announcement in the paper said all friends and relatives were welcome. It’s not like it’s a sit-down dinner.”

“No, I barely remember these people. Who are they again?”

“They’re your dad’s second cousins.” May carefully colored her lips. “What will you do while we’re gone? I don’t like the thought of you moping around here by yourself.”

“I am not moping. Maybe I’ll take a ride, or visit Vince or Charlie. Simon’s got a wake tonight, but we’re going out tomorrow for brunch.”

“How about Trixie? Now that she’s back in town you should try and get together with her sometime.” May stood back from the mirror and checked her face.

“It’s a Saturday night, and she is married, so I don’t think this is the time.”

“Married. Seems like everyone’s doing that lately.” May shot Skye a meaningful look before walking out of the bathroom.

Thirty minutes after her parents left, Skye sat in the La-Z-Boy with Bingo ensconced on her lap. She was flipping through TV channels, but most programs were reruns of things she hadn’t wanted to watch the first time around. Six o’clock on a Saturday night offered poor television viewing.

She reached for the phone, careful to leave the cat undisturbed. No answer at Vince’s.

Next, she tried Charlie, who was just leaving for a poker game with his buddies.

Skye frowned when she heard this. “But, Uncle Charlie, I thought you weren’t going to gamble anymore, after you almost lost everything last fall.”

His usual booming voice sounded sheepish. “We play for toothpicks. No money is involved.”

“Oh, well, I still don’t think it’s a good idea. It feeds your addiction.” Skye sat up straighter.

Bingo opened one eye and glared.

“Why don’t you come with me? It’s just Eldon, Homer, and a couple of other old guys. Nothing for you to worry about.”

“I can’t see me playing poker with the mayor and the high school principal. Thanks anyway, Uncle Charlie. Have a good time.”

She sat stroking Bingo for a moment, then got up and grabbed her purse. The cat gave a single sharp meow before settling into the warm spot on the chair Skye had vacated. Skye dumped the bag’s contents on the sofa and searched for the piece of paper with Trixie’s number on it.

Her wallet, checkbook, sunglasses case, and cosmetic pouch were quickly examined, and thrown back in the tote’s gaping maw. Then she made a pile of things for the trash. This is pathetic. I’m cleaning out my purse for entertainment on a Saturday night.

Finally, the only things remaining were two crumpled sheets of paper. She smoothed the smallest and found what she had been looking for. Skye scooped up the receiver and punched in Trixie’s number.

On the sixth ring, Trixie answered, just as Skye was thinking of hanging up.

Skye could hear other people’s voices. “Hi, this is Skye. Is this a bad time?”

Trixie lowered her voice. “Depends on your frame of reference. We have my in-laws over for the weekend.”

“Oh, well. I thought you’d probably be busy, but I decided to check just in case you were free. I was thinking we could get together.” Skye hoped the disappointment didn’t show in her words.

“They’re leaving tomorrow. How about lunch on Monday? You are out of school now, right?”

“Yes, thank goodness. Monday would be great. Want to go into Kankakee and do some shopping too?”

“Sounds good to me. Shall I pick you up around ten?” Trixie asked.

“Ten’s good, but let me pick you up. I’m not sure where I’ll be.” After Skye explained about the broken windows, they hung up.

Skye gathered the pile of trash she had accumulated from her purse, and walked out to the waste can in the kitchen. As she tossed in everything, a crinkled paper fell to the floor. She picked it up and flattened it out.

Written in crude printing, all in capital letters, was: “BITCH! KWIT STIKKIN YER NOSE IN OTHER PEEPLES BIZNESS.”

Shaken, Skye sat at the counter and stared at the hateful message. In a few minutes she drew a shaky breath, stood, and got a Ziploc from the drawer. Edging the page into the plastic bag with a pencil eraser, she sealed the top, and put it in her purse. She knew she had probably already destroyed any fingerprints, but she wasn’t taking any chances. She’d bet money this was the work of Hap Doozier, or maybe Gus Yoder’s father.

After Skye had dropped the note off with the dispatcher at the police department, she decided to cruise the downtown area of Scumble River. As a teenager she had spent many Friday and Saturday evenings riding from one end of town to the other. The kids started at Mayor Clapp’s used car lot on the north end of Basin Street, and looped around the McDonald’s at the far south extreme. Some called it “shooting the loop”; others labeled it “buzzing the gut.”

From the parade of cars crawling slowly by and the honking of horns, it appeared that this tradition had not changed.

Skye rolled down the window and turned up the radio. Pam Tillis was singing about lost love and squandered dreams.

When the song ended, the disc jockey’s voice oozed out of the speakers. “This is WCCQ, the Love and Desperation Hour. What can I play for you?”

A low-pitched baritone answered. “ ‘I’m Having a Bad Day’ by The Charlie Stewart Band.”

“You got a dedication for that?” the DJ asked.

After a pause the caller answered, “It’s to SD.”

“Who from?”

Another pause. “Let’s just say I’m hoping she can figure that out.”

Skye thought, SD could be me. That voice did sound sort of familiar. Nah.

She was almost to the south turnaround when she abruptly decided to swing into McDonald’s rather than circle it. Skye parked the Buick, then flipped down the visor and used its mirror to straighten her hair. The open window had allowed her curls to be whipped into a beehive. While she was at it, she powdered her nose and added a light coat of lipstick.