Elaine Viets & Victoria Laurie, Nancy Martin, Denise Swanson - Drop-Dead Blonde (v5.0) (pdf) by Unknown (howl and other poems .TXT) 📕

in jail.'' Simon picked up the mar- tini and the glass of Coke and carried them to the two DEAD BLONDES TELL NO TALES 187 women across the room. ``Here you go, ladies.'' He put his hand on his mother's shoulder. ``I've got to get back to the funeral home. There's a viewing tonight. I'll see you tomorrow. You two try and stay out of trouble.''

Skye accompanied him to the front door. He kissed her and traced a gentle finger over her cheek. ``I'm sorry, I didn't ask earlier how you were feeling.''

``My face hurts, but I'll be fine.'' Skye grimaced. ``I just wish I didn't look like a raccoon.''

``But you're the cutest little raccoon in Stanley County.'' He kissed her again and added, ``Keep an eye on them. Ruby's up to something, and I don't trust Bunny not to get involved. You know how easily led astray she is.'' Chapter 4

Much Ado about Blondes ``I hear one of that woman's trampy friends is in town.'' Skye's mother, May, didn't look up from the stove as she stirred a water-and-flour mixture into the meat drippings. This was a delicate operation. A lapse in concentration could mean lumps in the gravy, an occurrence not allowed in May's kitchen.

Skye shook out the tablecloth and carefully made sure it hung evenly before answering. Her mother had taken an instant aversion to Bunny, which was both unusual and awkward: unusual, in that May generally liked everyone, and awkward, since Skye was dating Bunny's son. Skye just counted her blessings that Ruby's makeup seemed to work, and so far her mother had not noticed the bruises she had acquired from the morning's umbrella incident. May would really have it in for Bunny if she knew that she had physi- cally harmed Skye, even unintentionally.

``If by 'that woman' you mean Bunny,'' Skye said, ``then yes, there is someone visiting her, but how can you pronounce someone a tramp when you've never even met her?''

May poured a smooth stream of dark brown gravy into the china boat and set it on the counter. She selected a knife from the drawer and started to carve the roast. ``Be- cause I saw those awful things Wally had to get rid of.'' May was a police, fire, and emergency dispatcher. She nor- mally worked weekday afternoons.

``Why were you working on a Sunday?'' Skye tried to distract May. Chatting about sex aids with her mother was not something she was eager to do.

``Pat's grandson was being baptized, and she needed the day off.''

188 DEAD BLONDES TELL NO TALES 189

Oops! The issue of babies was another subject Skye at- tempted to avoid discussing with her mother. May's fondest wish was for Skye to marry and produce a few grandchil- dren. As she searched for a safe topic of conversation, Skye centered a plate in front of a chair, aligning the knife and spoon on the paper napkin to the right and the fork to the left.

But May was too quick for her. ``You know, Pat's daugh- ter is only twenty-four. That's nearly ten years younger than you.'' Apparently May assumed Skye's math skills might not be up to the challenge of subtraction.

Skye ignored her mother's dig and asked quickly ``Does Wally have any idea who might have broken into the bowl- ing alley Saturday night?''

``No.'' May opened the oven door, and the intoxicating scent of freshly baked bread seeped into the room.

Skye was thankful that the low-carb craze had not reached Scumble River.

``He thinks it must be kids.'' May pulled out a tray of Parker House rolls, and set it on a wire rack. ``That woman has been really strict about keeping teenagers out of the bar area of the bowling alley, and one of them is probably mad at her.''

``I wish you'd call her Bunny.'' Skye finished setting the table and started putting the food out.

May sniffed. ``Bunny is not a Christian name.''

``And Skye is?''

``That's different. Skye is a family name, as you well know, missy.''

``Then call her Mrs. Reid.''

``No. She hasn't earned that name.'' May shook her head. ``You have to stick around and take care of your husband and children to earn the title of missus.''

Skye opened her mouth to suggest May call Bunny Ms. Reid, but snapped it shut without speaking. She already knew her mother's opinion of the word miz, and it wasn't positive.

May looked over the table.

Skye stood at attention, waiting to be told what she had missed. Her mother tolerated Skye's presence in her kitchen with thinly disguised unease.

``You forgot the butter. All you've got out is my Shedd's 190 Denise Swanson Spread. You know your dad won't use anything but the real thing.'' May handed Skye a rectangular dish. ``Let's see: Jed, Vince, and Charlie already have their beer, you have your pop, I'll get me some wine, and we're all set. Call the men into dinner.''

Skye stepped around the archway that separated the di- nette from the living room and said, ``Come and get it.''

Charlie Patukas, six feet tall and easily three hundred pounds, was first into the room. In his mid-seventies, he was still mostly muscle, but a small bulge was starting to overhang his belt.

Although Skye and her brother, Vince, called him ``uncle'', he was really their godfather and a special friend of the family. He sat at the head of the table, the sturdy oak chair groaning under his bulk.

Next was Skye's father, Jed, several inches shorter than Charlie and about half his weight. He had a farmer's tan with a white band across his forehead where his John Deere cap had protected it from the sun. The rest of his face was leathery from years of working outdoors. He sat at the other end of the table in the chair with a view out the picture window, so he