Murder of a Creped Suzette Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  CHAPTER 1 - “Walking the Floor Over You”

  CHAPTER 2 - “Seven-Year Ache”

  CHAPTER 3 - “Family Tradition”

  CHAPTER 4 - “Behind Closed Doors”

  CHAPTER 5 - “Sunday Morning Coming Down”

  CHAPTER 6 - “Harper Valley PTA”

  CHAPTER 7 - “Killin’ Time”

  CHAPTER 8 - “I Fall to Pieces”

  CHAPTER 9 - “He’ll Have to Go”

  CHAPTER 10 - “Act Naturally”

  CHAPTER 11 - “Mama He’s Crazy”

  CHAPTER 12 - “Where Were You?”

  CHAPTER 13 - “If You’ve Got the Money, I’ve Got the Time”

  CHAPTER 14 - “Please Remember Me”

  CHAPTER 15 - “A Boy Named Sue”

  CHAPTER 16 - “When You Say Nothing at All”

  CHAPTER 17 - “Hey Good Lookin’”

  CHAPTER 18 - “Your Cheatin’ Heart”

  CHAPTER 19 - “I Can’t Stop Loving You”

  CHAPTER 20 - “Desperado”

  CHAPTER 21 - “Friends in Low Places”

  CHAPTER 22 - “When I Call Your Name”

  CHAPTER 23 - “Crazy”

  CHAPTER 24 - “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry”

  CHAPTER 25 - “Stand by Your Man”

  EPILOGUE

  Praise for the Scumble River Series

  Murder of a Bookstore Babe

  “A fun and fast-paced mystery.”

  —The Mystery Reader

  “As fresh and fun to read as the first book, and that’s quite a tribute.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  Murder of a Wedding Belle

  “The latest carefully crafted installment in Swanson’s Scumble River series features a charming heroine who is equally skilled at juggling detection and romance.”

  —Chicago Tribune

  “A tightly woven mystery. . . . I had no idea as to who the murderer was until the final reveal, which definitely makes for a page-turning read.”

  —Once Upon a Romance Reviews

  “This book was very hard to put down. I enjoyed it tremendously and highly recommend it.”

  —Gumshoe

  “As always . . . Swanson combines humor and romance within an intriguing homicide investigation while the support cast feels like friends.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  Murder of a Royal Pain

  “A trip to Scumble River is like visiting with old friends . . . another entry into a fine series that is sure to be on most must-read lists.”

  —The Mystery Reader

  “Swanson has given me many a smile and many hours of wonderful, fun reading. This is another in a long line of really great books.”

  —CrimeSpree Magazine

  “Just plain fun to read. Readers of cozy mysteries who haven’t read Denise Swanson’s books are in for a real treat when they do.”

  —Cozy Library

  “Denise Swanson’s Scumble River Mysteries are always fun to read.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  Murder of a Chocolate-Covered Cherry

  “[A] cleverly crafted plot . . . with a generous dash of romance.”

  —Chicago Tribune

  “Top-notch storytelling with truly unique and wonderful characters.”

  —CrimeSpree Magazine

  Murder of a Botoxed Blonde

  “Endearing . . . quirky . . . a delight.”

  —Chicago Tribune

  “Tight plotting and plenty of surprises keep this series on my must-read list.”

  —CrimeSpree Magazine

  Murder of a Real Bad Boy

  “Swanson is a born storyteller.”

  —CrimeSpree Magazine

  “Another knee-slapping adventure in Scumble River.”

  —The Amplifier (KY)

  Murder of a Smart Cookie

  “Smartly spins on a solid plot and likable characters.”

  —South Florida Sun-Sentinel

  “[Swanson] has a lot of surprises in store for the reader.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  Murder of a Pink Elephant

  “The must-read book of the summer.”

  —Butler County Post (KY)

  “Current readers will appreciate the trip into Scumble River, while new readers will want to go back.”

  —The Best Reviews

  Murder of a Barbie and Ken

  “Swanson continues her lively, light, and quite insightful look at small-town life.”

  —The Hartford Courant

  “Another sidesplitting visit to Scumble River . . . with some of the quirkiest and most eccentric characters we ever have met.”

  —Butler County Post (KY)

  Murder of a Snake in the Grass

  “An endearing and realistic character . . . a fast-paced, enjoyable read.”

  —The Herald News (MA)

  “This book is delightful.”

  —Mysterious Woman

  Murder of a Sleeping Beauty

  “A smooth, pleasant, and ultimately satisfying book.”

  —Chicago Tribune

  “Another delightful and intriguing escapade.”

  —Mystery News

  Murder of a Sweet Old Lady

  “More fun than the Whirl-a-Gig at the County Fair and tastier than a corn dog.”

  —The Charlotte Austin Review

  “A magnificent tale written by a wonderful author.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  Murder of a Small-Town Honey

  “Bounces along with gently wry humor and jaunty twists and turns. The quintessential amateur sleuth: bright, curious, and more than a little nervy.”

  —Agatha Award–winning author Earlene Fowler

  “A charming, insightful debut.”

  —Carolyn Hart

  Other Scumble River Mysteries

  Murder of a Bookstore Babe

  Murder of a Wedding Belle

  Murder of a Royal Pain

  Murder of a Chocolate- Covered Cherry

  Murder of a Botoxed Blonde

  Murder of a Real Bad Boy

  Murder of a Smart Cookie

  Murder of a Pink Elephant

  Murder of a Barbie and Ken

  Murder of a Snake in the Grass

  Murder of a Sleeping Beauty

  Murder of a Sweet Old Lady

  Murder of a Small- Town Honey

  OBSIDIAN

  Published by New American Library, a division of

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street,

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  Firs
t published by Obsidian, an imprint of New American Library, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  First Printing, October 2011

  ISBN : 978-1-101-54477-8

  Copyright © Denise Swanson Stybr, 2011

  All rights reserved

  OBSIDIAN and logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  To my good friend, and trivia team member

  extraordinaire, Beverlee (Angel) Porter.

  Thank you for nearly single-handedly spreading the word

  about my books throughout Canada.

  Acknowledgments

  A big thank-you to Donna Sears for telling me about a music promoter trying to turn her town into the “Branson of the West.”

  Author’s Note

  In July of 2000, when the first book in my Scumble River series, Murder of a Small-Town Honey, was published, it was written in “real time.” It was the year 2000 in Skye’s life as well as mine, but after several books in a series, time becomes a problem. It takes me from seven months to a year to write a book, and then it is usually another year from the time I turn that book in to my editor until the reader sees it on a bookstore shelf. This can make the timeline confusing. Different authors handle this matter in different ways. After a great deal of deliberation, I decided that Skye and her friends and family would age more slowly than those of us who don’t live in Scumble River. So to catch everyone up, the following is when the books take place:

  Murder of a Small-Town Honey—August 2000

  Murder of a Sweet Old Lady—March 2001

  Murder of a Sleeping Beauty—April 2002

  Murder of a Snake in the Grass—August 2002

  Murder of a Barbie and Ken—November 2002

  Murder of a Pink Elephant—February 2003

  Murder of a Smart Cookie—June 2003

  Murder of a Real Bad Boy—September 2003

  Murder of a Botoxed Blonde—November 2003

  Murder of a Chocolate-Covered Cherry—April 2004

  Murder of a Royal Pain—October 2004

  Murder of a Wedding Belle—June 2005

  Murder of a Bookstore Babe—September 2005

  And this is when the Scumble River short story and novella take place:

  “Not a Monster of a Chance” from And the Dying Is Easy—June 2001

  “Dead Blondes Tell No Tales” from Drop-Dead Blonde—March 2003

  Scumble River is not a real town. The characters and events portrayed in these pages are entirely fictional, and any resemblance to living persons is pure coincidence.

  CHAPTER 1

  “Walking the Floor Over You”

  Skye Denison had to admit that Flint James was hot. Neither the engagement ring on her finger nor her utter aversion to sports of any kind altered the fact that the pro quarterback turned country singer looked like a Greek statue—if statues wore cowboy hats, had smoky whiskey-colored eyes, and sported really good tans.

  Flint leaned on the side railing of Scumble River Park’s newly constructed grandstand, gazing at the early evening sky. The rising star appeared unconcerned about whatever was transpiring at the back of the stage, where a cluster of guys wearing jeans, T-shirts, and baseball caps surrounded a man dressed in an expensive country-western-style suit.

  To Skye, the group of men looked like the featured critters in a Whac-A-Mole game—first one head would pop up, scan the audience, and duck back down; then another and another, before starting the process all over again. It was obvious that something was wrong, but what? While the others appeared merely irritated, Mr. Suit looked apoplectic.

  According to the liberally distributed flyers, the program was supposed to start at six thirty. It was already a quarter to seven, and although the park was ablaze with lights and there were amplifiers scattered around the stage’s perimeter, nothing was happening.

  Perhaps the out-of-towners didn’t understand how much the good citizens of Scumble River valued punctuality, but Skye knew that if something didn’t happen soon, people would begin to leave. Small-town Illinoisans considered arriving fifteen minutes early as the equivalent of being on time, the stated hour as barely acceptable, and anything afterward as intolerably late.

  The only thing that might persuade everyone to hang around was the complimentary refreshments. An open bar tended to keep most Scumble Riverites happy for quite a while.

  Skye fanned herself with the old grocery list she had found in the pocket of her khaki capris and watched for her fiancé, Wally Boyd. As chief of police, he was on duty tonight.

  Usually he wouldn’t be working on a Saturday night, but the entire Scumble River police force—six full-time officers and two part-timers—was patrolling this event. An affair like this one needed all the crowd control available. It wasn’t often that a celebrity like Flint James performed anywhere near Scumble River, let alone at a free concert.

  Which brought up a good question. Why? Why would Flint James agree to come to the middle of nowhere and sing, especially without charging for tickets?

  As Skye slapped at a gnat buzzing around her ear, she caught sight of her uncle, the mayor. Dante Leofanti was seated front and center on something resembling a red canvas throne. It had a canopy, a table attached to the arm, and even a footrest. His wife, Olive, sat by his side in a smaller version of the same elaborate chair, although hers was baby blue.

  Skye narrowed her eyes. Nothing happened in the mayor’s town without his knowledge and permission. Dante must have approved the use of the park, the permit to build the grandstand, and the authorization to serve alcohol. He would certainly know why Flint James was singing here, but did Skye care enough to go over there and ask him? No. Dante treated information like a commodity, and she didn’t want to be in his debt.

  More to the point, she really didn’t need to know. There was an extremely fine line between concerned and nosy, and because Skye suffered from curiosity overdrive she usually erred on the wrong side of that line. But not this time.

  She wasn’t on duty as either the town’s school psychologist or the police department’s psychological consultant. She was just at the concert to hear some good music and have fun with her friends. Whatever was going on was not her problem. For once she would mind her own business.

  Speaking of friends, where was Trixie? Skye’s BFF, Trixie Frayne, and Trixie’s husband, Owen, were supposed to have shown up half an hour ago. Skye checked her cell phone. It was on—she often forgot to power it up—but she didn’t have any messages, so her friend hadn’t tried to reach her.

  Skye attempted to call Trixie, but got her voice mail. After leaving a message asking Trixie and Owen to meet her by the refreshment stand, Skye threaded her way through the crowd looking for them.

  While she walked, Skye dug through her purse for a barrette, desperate to get her humidity-frizzed chestnut curls out of her
face. The freshly ironed white sleeveless blouse she had put on just before leaving home was now wrinkled and limp, clinging to her ample curves like a damp shower curtain. Autumn had begun three weeks earlier, but the unusually high temperature made it feel like it was still the dog days of summer.

  Skye considered giving up on Trixie and Owen and going home. She could relax in the air-conditioning, watch a movie, and spend some quality time with her cat. Although she liked country music, without Wally or her friends the concert wouldn’t be much fun.

  Besides, she wasn’t fond of outdoor events unless the weather was perfect—a circumstance rarely found in the Midwest, where it was often necessary to switch from the heat to the A/C and vice versa on the same day.

  Still, when you lived in the same small town where you grew up, worked in public education, and were engaged to the police chief, it was a good idea to show your face at social gatherings. And Skye had finally admitted that she did want to be a part of the community. It had taken her a while, but after five years she recognized that moving back to Scumble River, despite its rigid sense of right and wrong, had been a good decision.