Her white shorts and navy striped polo had managed to ride up, exposing her upper thighs and midriff. She smoothed her clothes down as she exited the car. Her Keds squeaked on the cooling asphalt.

The glare blinded her for a moment when she pushed open the door, but she made her way instinctively to the counter. The line wasn’t long and she was able to order her ice cream in a few minutes.

The girl behind the counter handed her the clear plastic dish and said, “Here you go, Ms. Denison. You were awesome breaking up that fight last night.”

Skye recognized her from the high school, but couldn’t remember her name. “Thanks. Did the kids know Gus was going to sneak in?”

The girl’s face reddened, and she muttered as she turned to wait on another customer. “Some.”

Oh, no, I broke another taboo. I asked one kid to rat on another. There goes my “awesome” reputation. Skye shook her head.

Sweeping her eyes across the room, Skye headed for one in the back corner. She liked to observe without being watched herself. As she neared her favorite table, she noticed it was occupied and started to veer to the next one on the right.

A voice stopped her. “Come sit with me.”

When she hesitated, Chief Boyd added, “I’m having a bad day.”

Skye slid into his booth and glanced across at him. He appeared haggard. The skin around his eyes was papery looking. “Are you okay?”

He shrugged. “Better now.”

Alarms were going off in Skye’s head. He was not dressed in his uniform and thus probably off duty. Why would a married man with no children be alone at Mc-Donald’s on a Saturday night?

The silence grew awkward and she rushed to fill the gap with words. “Ah, gee, I was just at the police station. I found a threatening note in my purse so I dropped it off.”

“What did it say?” Wally sat forward with a look of concern.

She told him, and he shook his head. “Sure seems that someone is not too happy with you. First your tires, then your windows, and now this. What have you been doing to tick people off?”

“My job.” Skye made a face. “It’s not uncommon for parents to blame others for their children’s failings.”

“Yeah, some of those kids I get in at the police station, I just want to shake some sense into them. The first thing out of their mouths is: ‘It’s not my fault.’ ”

“Oh, it’s never their fault. And what amazes me is eighty percent of the time the parents think that way too.”

“Yes, and these are the same kids who say to their folks: ‘It’s my life,’ and ‘You’re not my boss.’ It doesn’t make sense. If they really believe that it’s their life and their parents aren’t their boss, then there is no one to blame but themselves.”

“Too bad the parents would sue us if we said half of what we’re really thinking.” Skye snorted inelegantly, then realized what she had done and felt a blush start up her cheeks.

Wally didn’t help. He just looked at her with a goofy smile.

Skye glanced around. If anyone overheard their conversation, they would think she and Wally didn’t care about the kids they worked with. But in truth they were probably more concerned than the parents who let their children run wild. Like all people in high-stress professions, they needed to vent.

When the silence lengthened, Skye once again searched for a topic of conversation. “So, what’s new with my grandmother’s case?”

She saw disappointment flash in his eyes before he recovered his usual mild expression. “They’ve found that her housekeeper was murdered using the same poison.”

“Just as we suspected. Now the question becomes, why was my grandmother left in her bed, but Mrs. Jankowski dumped in the well?”

He leaned forward, his forearms on the table. “My guess is that whoever did it thought your grandmother’s death would be written off to old age, and no one would bother to find some poor Polish woman with no relatives or friends.”

“Or maybe they didn’t expect Mrs. Jankowski to die. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to get hold of the brownies.” Skye, too, leaned forward, lowering her voice. “My aunts were always fighting about what Mrs. J ate. They’d bring a plate of cookies for Grandma, who would eat one or two, and then Mrs. J would polish off the rest.”

“If I remember correctly, the contents of both stomachs were similar.”

“Did you find anything when you went through the house?”

“Yes. Someone had been violently ill, but the mess had been cleaned up. This supports the physical evidence the doctor found the day she was murdered. He found signs that she had vomited, but had been cleaned up. We found dirty rags, one of your grandmother’s dresses, and a set of her underclothing. It was all stuffed down that well.”

“That was what Simon was referring to the night of the murder when he said they had found irregularities.”

A line formed between Wally’s brows. “This is the way I think it went down. The murderer brought over the poisoned brownies. Gave them to your grandma to eat, waited, and when she got sick, cleaned her up. This person changed her into her nightgown and put her to bed.”

“Where was Mrs. J while this was going on?” Skye shredded a napkin.

The chief twiddled the straw in his drink. “The murderer must have told her to relax, they would take care of your grandmother. And while she waited, Mrs. J ate a brownie.”

“Did the killer clean her up too?”

The chief shook his head. “Nope, just stuffed her down the well, along with her belongings, and the remaining brownies.”

“So, the murderer went back inside, straightened up, and then disposed of the rest of the evidence.”

Wally shrugged. “That’s how it looks.”

“Any suspects besides my family?”

“No, it’s pretty unlikely that it was an outsider.” He took a swallow of his Coke. “It’s also damn hard to find the killer when it’s a family member. Everyone sticks together, and no one will say anything about the other.”

“Whoever did it had to be strong enough to get that well cover on and off. That eliminates the women.” Skye ate a spoonful of her melting ice cream.

“Maybe not. We found signs that a chain and a car were used to move the well cover.”

“And you said a wagon was used to move Mrs. J’s body so I guess that means anyone could have managed it physically.”

They were silent as Skye ate her sundae and the chief finished his drink.

Skye scraped the last drizzle of chocolate from the container and wiped her lips with her napkin. “Thanks for telling me all this.”

Wally pushed the debris to one side of the table. “You know I trust you.”

She felt her face get hot and half rose from the booth. “Well, I’d better get going.”

“Could you stay a little while longer?”

“Sure.”

“Did you hear the dedication on CCQ?”

Skye nodded. “The song about having a bad day?”

“Yes.” Wally looked down at his clenched hands. “I thought I saw you drive by and hoped you had your radio tuned to WCCQ. I really wanted to talk to you.”

Skye sat back down. “Okay.”

“Darleen’s left me.”

“Oh.” Skye couldn’t think of anything to say. The pain in his eyes made her want to reach out and comfort him, but deep down she knew that wasn’t a good idea so she settled for saying, “I’m so sorry.”

He buried his face in his hands. “I didn’t see it coming, but now that I look back I wonder how dumb I could be. She’s never been a happy person.”

“No, from the little I know her, I’d say she has a lot of characteristics of someone who is chronically depressed.” Skye frowned. She probably should have tried harder to connect with Darleen and gotten her some help.

As if reading her mind, Wally said, “I made her see a therapist and counselors, but she never cooperated with them.”

“You really can’t help someone who isn’t ready.” Skye felt as if she were trying to walk on bubble wrap without popping any of the air pockets. “What happened that made her leave?”