Murder of a Cranky Catnapper Read Online Free PDF Page A

happened at least once or twice a day. Sometimes more.
    While she watched, Charlie’s cheeks reddened and his lips drew back in a snarl. Suddenly, he roared into the phone, “You tell that asshole that I’ve been running things in Scumble River for forty years, and I’ll be running them long after no one can remember his name!”
    Skye murmured, “Uncle Charlie, you need to calm down or you’re going to have a heart attack.”
    He covered the receiver and said, “When it’s your time, it’s your time.”
    â€œPossibly,” Skye conceded. “However, there’s no need to oil the locomotive’s wheels.” She glared at him. “We certainly don’t want you getting into Heaven’s train station early.”
    Charlie flipped his hand back and forth as if getting rid of a pesky mosquito, then went back to his conversation.
    Before Skye could respond, the window air conditioner made a high-pitched squeal. Its laboring attempt to keep the tiny room cool reminded her that when she’d drivenpast the Scumble River First National Bank, the thermometer had read eighty-three degrees. Not a good sign for this early in May. If this kept up, summer would be a scorcher.
    Skye dug into her pants pocket until she found the hair elastic she’d stashed there that morning. Gathering her now frizzy chestnut curls into a thick ponytail, she narrowed her emerald green eyes against the smoke from Charlie’s cigar. Rapping her knuckles on the counter until she got his attention, she pointed to her baby bump and stared until he grudgingly extinguished his White Owl in the overflowing ashtray at his elbow.
    Swiveling away from Skye, Charlie pounded on the desk and bellowed, “Tell him to check the goddamn bylaws! He demanded a copy when he took office so why in the hell didn’t he do that in the first place?”
    Charlie banged down the phone, ran sausage-like fingers through his thick white hair, and muttered, “I gotta stop asking people, ‘How dumb can you be?’” He shook his head. “Some folks seem to take it as a challenge.”
    Sighing, he heaved himself out of the battered wooden swivel chair and swooped Skye into a bear hug. Intense blue eyes under bushy white brows scrutinized her face and he demanded, “Are you okay? Everything all right with the baby?”
    Skye was breathless from his tight embrace, but returned his hug. “I’m fine and my obstetrician says Juniorette’s progress is on track.”
    A month ago, after Skye and Wally had announced the blessed event, everyone had driven her crazy asking about her health. While most people had finally relaxed, her mother, May, and Uncle Charlie were not most people. They still demanded daily updates.
    Releasing her, he settled back down into the creaking chair and his expression turned cunning. “Juniorette? So is it a girl?”
    â€œI call it Juniorette and Wally calls it Junior.” Skye wagged her finger in front of Charlie’s nose. “You know darned well that we asked the doctor not to tell us the baby’s sex.”
    â€œHey.” Charlie held up his hands as if in surrender. “I just thought maybe you changed your mind and May forgot to tell me.”
    â€œAs if.” Skye scoffed. Charlie may not be May’s real father, but they were as close as if it were his blood flowing through her veins.
    â€œSo what’s this I hear about your run-in with Palmer Lynch?”
    â€œI don’t know. What did you hear?” Skye answered evasively.
Shoot!
She’d been hoping to get to Charlie before the gossip mill did.
    â€œLynch has been burning up the phone lines accusing you and Caroline of turning the grade school into a wildlife park. He’s telling everyone that you had wolves running up and down the hallways.”
    â€œSon of a—” Skye stopped herself when Charlie shot her an outraged look. Clearly, he