Murder of a Pink Elephant (27 page)

  
CHAPTER 24
  

S
kye spent all night Wednesday and most of Thursday at the Laurel Hospital. She kept telling everyone she was fine, but no one believed her. Granted, when she had first opened her eyes and seen the firefighter she hadn’t been able to tell him her name or where she was or what day it was. But that information had all come back to her in a minute or two, or at least most of it had.

The scariest part had been seeing everyone dressed in hazardous material suits and wearing respirators. The EMTs had put her in an ambulance and brought her to the hospital despite her protests. They kept talking about head injuries—the blood flowing down the right side of her face was a bit disturbing—and chemically-induced pneumonia from the contaminated air.

It must have been a slow night at the emergency room because the doctors and nurses had swarmed over her as if she were the last ticket to a sold-out rock concert. After what seemed like forever, they finally put her in a room and told her to rest. Which she would have been perfectly willing to do, if they’d just stopped waking her up every hour to check on her.

Early Thursday morning, when the doctor lifted his ban
on visitors, Wally was the first through her door. Marching in, he stood to one side, towering over her, his eyes raking her from head to toe. Suddenly Skye was aware that she had not been allowed to shower, wash her hair, or put on makeup. She didn’t so much look like something the cat had dragged in, but more like something the cat had barfed up.

There was a fleeting expression of concern when Wally’s gaze reached the huge bandage taped to her forehead, but his frown quickly returned, and he snarled, “What in the hell were you doing at the Wolfes’? And how did you get there? I thought your car was in the garage.”

That explained why Quirk hadn’t been tailing her. “Dad got it out for me.” She’d have to ask Jed to pick the Bel Air up before the police discovered its present location. It would be hard to explain why she had parked there.

“Driving without seatbelts. I’ll add that to your list of violations.”

“Fine.” Skye refused to be bullied. “I told you I thought Logan was running a meth lab, and you said that you couldn’t get a search warrant, so I went out to see if Ivy would tell me anything.”

“And did she?”

“No.”

“So why didn’t you leave?”

“I did.” Skye hedged. “But I came back.”

“Why?”

Skye debated with herself, then prevaricated. “I forgot to ask something, but Ivy wasn’t in the house so I looked around. I thought maybe she was in one of the outbuildings. And she was, in the machine shed, cooking up a batch of methamphetamine. I was sure that shed was the meth lab, and I was right.”

“So, we can add interfering with a police investigation and trespassing to your record? What other crimes have you committed? Picked any locks, broken into any buildings?”

“No and no. I wasn’t trespassing either. Ivy never said I wasn’t welcome on her property.” Skye had had enough of Wally’s rotten attitude. She was the one who had been right. “And tell me exactly how I was interfering with a police investigation. It’s not like I locked Quirk up somewhere or raced by him as he was approaching the Wolfe property. You told me yourself you couldn’t get a search warrant.”

“Damn!” Wally thundered. “You’re poking your nose into meth labs and drug dealers. Do you have any idea how dangerous these people are?”

“Of course I do. I watch the news and read the papers. But
these people
have come into the schools and abused my hometown. This is no longer some story on a TV screen. The kids who are being harmed are the ones who trust you and me to protect them, to keep them safe until they’re old enough to make good choices.”

“Did it ever occur to you that the police might be dealing with this matter?” It was clear that Wally’s temper was dangerously close to igniting like a bottle rocket.

Skye didn’t care. She’d had enough of him and his feelings. So he was turning forty; it was time for him to get over it. “I gave you every bit of information I had, and I didn’t see you making any progress with traditional police methods. Either there’s a lack of ingenuity on your part, or you didn’t think that what I was telling you was important enough to investigate. This is my fault in what way?”

“Just because you didn’t see any progress doesn’t mean none was being made.” Wally scowled. “We do work on cases without telling you our every move.”

“Glad to hear it.” Skye was beyond displeased with Wally. Either running for mayor or his ex-wife’s return to his life had changed him and not for the better. He seemed to be becoming more rigid and narrow-minded every time she spoke to him. “Have you made any progress?”

“What have
you
accomplished?”

“How am I supposed to know? No one will tell me anything,” Skye fumed. “What exactly happened? Is Ivy okay? What blew up? The meth lab?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss that right now.” Wally’s voice was as chilly as his eyes.

The nurse chose that moment to chase Wally out of Skye’s room and insist that she rest. After that Skye was only allowed one visitor an hour and then only for fifteen minutes.

May claimed the next visit; it took the full quarter hour to calm her down. She was frantic with worry, but after seeing and talking to Skye, she seemed to feel a little better. Jed was mutely concerned, and Uncle Charlie was frenzied. He spent his time ranting about the drug users in Scumble River and vowing to stop them. None of them would tell her anything specific about what had happened at the Wolfe farm. Either they didn’t know or Wally had sworn them to secrecy.

Simon finally got in to see her at eleven. He brought a bouquet of yellow roses, a box of chocolates, and the newest mystery by Carolyn G. Hart.

After a sweet kiss, he sat by Skye’s bedside and took her hand. “Bunny sends her love, but I talked her out of coming over.”

“Thanks. With all these people waiting to see me, I feel like I’m terminal and no one will tell me.”

“Everyone’s just concerned.” Simon squeezed her fingers. “How
do
you feel?”

“A little sore, but otherwise fine.” Skye braced herself for the lecture she expected from Simon.

But he only said, “I guess I’d better buy you a helmet and a Kevlar vest for your birthday this year. It seems you’re destined to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Maybe full body armor would be better.” Skye snickered. “Do you know what hit me?”

“A piece of the machine shed sliced into your forehead.
You’ll probably have a scar, but it’s right at the hairline so it shouldn’t show.”

Skye fingered the bandage. “Why was the doctor so worried?”

“There were dangerous chemicals in the air and head injuries are tricky. Since you lost both memory and consciousness, they had to be careful.” Simon squeezed her hand. “Do you have any residual memory loss?”

“No. I was just dazed at first. I remembered everything after a couple of minutes. I remember seeing Ivy in the meth lab, the explosion, and getting hit in the head.”

“That’s a good sign.”

“The meth lab blew up, right? Did Ivy get hurt?” She’d been asking this question since she’d come to back on the farm, but no one had answered her.

Simon pursed his lips, a debate obviously going on in his mind. After a minute, he said, “Ivy’s dead. She was caught in the heart of the explosion.”

Skye swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. There would be no second chance for Ivy. “What a horrible accident,” Skye murmured, then paused. Or was it? Another thought was teasing Skye. There was something else she remembered, but just as it was about to surface, the nurse stepped in and told Simon his time was up.

Next on the visiting list were Vince, Trixie, Frannie, and Justin. The teens were planning on writing a story for the newspaper. Skye only hoped that Trixie would edit it carefully.

At four, the doctor appeared and told Skye she could go home. All the test results indicated that she was okay. He wanted to see her in a week to remove the stitches. She was to come back immediately if she experienced any blurred vision or memory loss.

Simon was waiting to drive her. “Did Dad get my car?” Skye asked.

“Yes. He and your mom dropped it back at your cottage.”

“I’m surprised they weren’t here to pick me up.”

Simon reached over and caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. “I won the coin toss.”

“Really?”

“No. But May seemed to understand I needed to be the one to get you. However, she is waiting at your cottage.”

“Great. She’ll probably want me to move back home so she can take care of me.” Skye leaned her back against the headrest. The pain pills made her sleepy.

The next thing she knew, they were pulling into her driveway. Simon took her elbow and guided her up the front steps and inside.

May was dozing in the recliner, but her eyes flew open when Skye stepped into the great room, and she shot out of the chair. “How are you feeling?”

“A little groggy, but okay.”

“I made you some homemade chicken noodle soup and chocolate cupcakes.”

Skye smiled. “Sounds great. I’m starved. Hospital food is awful.” Whenever she had been sick as a child, May had always made her soup and cupcakes.

While Skye ate, the three of them talked about Scumble River’s reaction to the meth lab explosion.

When Skye finished, May looked at her watch and said, “The mayoral debate is in half an hour. Are you going?”

The thought of the noise and the smoke and facing Wally and Darleen again were too much. “No.”

May nodded. “Good. You need to rest.”

“But I am coming to Grandma’s birthday party afterwards. What time do you think it will be?”

“The debate is supposed to last an hour, and then there’ll be questions, so we’re all meeting at the house at eight.”

“That’s pretty late,” Skye teased.

“Well, a lot of the family wanted to attend the debate and
the others wanted to have Grandma’s birthday party on her actual birth date, so this was the compromise.”

“Okay. I’ll be at your house at eight.”

“Then I’ll get going, if you’re sure you’re all right?”

“Go.” Skye looked at Simon. “You, too. I want to know how the debate goes.”

Simon stood and kissed her cheek. “I’ll pick you up and drive you to your parents’ for the party.”

“Thanks. See you then.”

Once they were all gone, Skye sank back on the couch. Bingo had been hiding while May was there, but he came out and stretched beside her. It was a relief to be alone for a while. Now she could think.

One mystery was solved. Logan had been the one “cooking” the meth, and his lab was no doubt responsible for the increased use of the drug in and around Scumble River. Now she just had to figure out who had killed him. Who had the most to gain from his death? Not the band members. Without Logan, they were no closer to their big break than if he were alive and auditioning as a solo act, so what would be the point of murdering him?

How about Heather or Ivy? Neither woman seemed that broken up over the singer’s death. Granted, with Logan gone, Heather got to sing with the band, but was that really enough to kill for? Small-town garage bands were a dime a dozen.

And Ivy had cleared herself with her last words. She wanted Logan there to run the meth lab and to get his big break and share the success with her.

Who did that leave? Skye thought over what she had learned. Nate Turner had told her that Moss Gibson needed the Wolfe land in order to build Pig-In-A-Poke. Trixie had confirmed that she and Owen would sell to Gibson, and he already had the third piece, which meant only the Wolfes stood in his way.

But then why didn’t he kill Ivy too? He couldn’t have counted on her having a fatal accident. Wait a minute—the gunshot just before the explosion. Skye sat up abruptly, making her head spin, but she kept a firm grasp on what she had been thinking. Maybe Moss Gibson hadn’t relied on an accident. Maybe he had just tried to make it look like one. The killer had to be Moss Gibson. None of the other suspects wanted both Logan
and
Ivy dead.

Wally needed to know about the gunshot, but since at this moment he was tied up with the mayoral debate, she’d wait and call him in the morning. Informing Wally could wait twelve hours, but making sure Simon ordered an autopsy on Ivy Wolfe couldn’t. Skye would talk to him as soon as he picked her up for the birthday party.

At seven Skye started to get ready. Her movements were stiff and her head ached. She had decided to take the pain medication only at bedtime because it made her too groggy otherwise. It took her several minutes to find a shower cap—the doctor had told her she couldn’t get the wound wet—but she persisted, and was rewarded with a refreshing shower.

Makeup and an attractive outfit did wonders for both Skye’s appearance and her morale. She was waiting in the foyer when Simon rang her doorbell, and they were at her parents’ house in less than five minutes. On the way over she had told him about the need for Ivy to be autopsied and he’d called the medical examiner on his cell phone.

She and Simon were among the last to arrive, everyone having come directly from the mayoral debate. As they walked in the back door, they greeted the women in the kitchen, and then Simon went to sit with Jed and the other males in the living room. These parties were strictly segregated by sex. The only ones allowed to intermingle were the children or the women serving the food.

After Simon was gone, Skye asked, “Is there anything I can help with?”

May looked around. The birthday cake was on the counter surrounded by piles of dessert plates, napkins, and forks. The coffee urn was percolating and cups, spoons, creamer, and sugar were set out near it. “No, I think we’re all ready.”

“Did Maggie make the cake, Mom?” May’s friend and exercise buddy was well known in the area for making all the special occasion cakes. Her creations were both beautiful and delicious.

May nodded.

There was a brief flourish as Cora Denison arrived and everyone wished her a happy birthday. She was a big woman, five foot ten and solidly built. At eighty-four, she had buried a husband, two children, and a grandson but was not ready to lie down and die herself. She was famous for her dinner rolls and her dry sense of humor.