Murder of a Cranky Catnapper Read Online Free Page B

him a hefty trust fund. Up until his marriage to Skye, he’d seldom touched the money he’d inherited, but lately he’d been more willing to dip into that account.
    When she’d told him that he didn’t need to buy her expensive presents, he’d gotten a tender look on his face, then he’d taken her hand and said, “You are the love of my life. I waited nearly twenty years for you. It’s because you never ask for anything that it makes me happy to give you the occasional treat.”
    Skye had blinked back tears and said, “I don’t want you using those funds just because you think it will please me. I know how much you value your independence from your family.”
    â€œA lot of the reason I never spent that money was because I knew that if I did, Darleen would see it as the first step toward me quitting my job and moving back to Texas.”
    Darleen was Wally’s ex-wife. He had been divorced for five years, but had never talked much about his previous spouse. One of the few things about her that Wally
had
shared with Skye was that Darleen had found it extremely frustrating to be married to a rich man, but living a middle-class life.
    Thrilled that her new husband was finally revealingthat part of his past, Skye had let the subject of his lavish gifts to her drop. Now as she put the Bel Air into gear and headed out of the parking lot, she considered his offer of a new car. Perhaps it was time for a fresh start for the two of them.
    Both she and Wally had come into the marriage with a lot of emotional baggage. He had his ex and his secret fortune, while Skye had arrived back in Scumble River after being jilted and fired from her position as a school psychologist in New Orleans. Maybe they needed to get rid of all those past issues. To concentrate on the future. And what better way to do that than in a brand-new luxury SUV?
    Grinning at the idea of owning a car like that, Skye turned onto Maryland Street, which was part of historic Route 66. Charlie’s motel, the Up a Lazy River Motor Court, was just across the bridge.
    It was located on the banks of the Scumble River and adjacent to the town park. Most of its guests were fishermen or hunters, with the occasional tourist traveling down the Mother Road thrown in for variety.
    Skye drove into the motor court’s parking lot and pulled the Bel Air into one of several empty slots. Exiting the vehicle, she crossed the asphalt and pushed open the old-fashioned screen door. Charlie, dressed in his standard uniform of gray twill pants, limp white shirt, and red suspenders, was busy barking orders into the phone.
    He waved a hand at her, then said into the receiver, “You are about to exceed the limits of my medication.” He listened briefly, ground his teeth, and warned, “There’s a thin border between brave and stupid. Make sure you’re in the right county when you make your choice.”
    Skye rested her hip against the registration counter while she waited for Charlie to finish his conversation, and ignoring his shouts, she scanned the small office.Little had changed since her first memory of the place when as a child she’d visited her godfather while her mother ran errands around town.
    The walls were still painted a drab brown, the desktop was scarred and in need of refinishing, and the only chair was occupied by the owner. It had been specially designed for Charlie’s six-foot-tall, three-hundred-pound physique, and no one sat in it without his express permission, which he rarely gave.
    Charlie taunted, “You obviously went to school to become a wit. Too bad you only made it halfway.”
    Skye’s gaze shot to Charlie’s face and she frowned. His complexion was ashen, and his rapid breathing scared her. He was seventy-seven, after all, with high blood pressure and a fondness for beer and heavy meals, and she worried about his health. Especially when he lost his temper, which