Free Murder of a Stacked Librarian by Denise Swanson

never know what kind of debt people are willing to go into for the car of their dreams.” He grabbed a file from his in-box, flipped it open, and ran his finger down one of the pages. “The vic’s husband is a land developer, so he’d definitely have the money for a luxury vehicle.”
    “So who do we talk to first?” Skye finished eating and tossed the debris in the trash can. “The maintenance men or the husband?”
    “None of the above.” Wally threw away his wrappers and slid a sheet of paper across the desktop. “I think we should start with the daughter.”
    “Why?” Skye scanned the page in front of her, noting that the girl’s name was Phoebe and she had turned nineteen two weeks ago. “Because she argued with her mom right before the accident?”
    “That’s one of the reasons.” Wally stood. “More important, we couldn’t locate her that evening.” He waited for Skye at the door. “When we finally contacted the vic’s ex that night, he said their daughter was supposed to spend Christmas Eve with him, but she wasn’t there.”
    “Did she show up at her dad’s later?” Skye preceded Wally out of his office and down the stairs.
    “Nope.” Wally told Thea that he and Skye were heading out, then led the way into the garage. “The next day, the ex’s new wife told Quirk that Phoebe never arrived at their house, and the girl didn’t answer her cell until late the next morning. The current Mrs. Osborn said her husband was frantic because he was afraid Phoebe had been in the car with her mother.”
    “The poor man.”
    “Poor man, my butt,” Wally snapped. “If the guy had contacted us, we could have told him there was no evidence of another passenger. The windows were all up, the seat belts were intact, and none of the doors had been opened once the vehicle was submerged.”
    “Interesting that he didn’t call the police.” Skye slid into the squad car. “I take it he gave you her cell number and you tried it that night?”
    “Yep.” Wally nodded as he joined Skye in the cruiser. “As soon as we confirmed Yvonne’s identity, I had Quirk go to her house, and Phoebe wasn’t there either.”
    “So our mission today is to see where Miss Phoebe spent Christmas Eve?” She buckled her seat belt. “And find out if she drives an Escalade?”
    “Exactly.” Wally pulled the robin’s-egg blue Caprice onto the street. “I also want you to see if you can tell what Phoebe’s relationship with her mom was like.”
    “I’m on it.” Skye could usually get a feeling for how kids got along with their parents by little things they said and their facial expressions. “I’m guessing Phoebe’s out of high school. Does she go to college?”
    “No. Her dad said there was some snafu with her application and she has to wait until next year to attend.” Wally took a left onto Maryland Street. “Meanwhile, she’s working part-time at your aunt’s dance studio, which is where we’re heading.”
    Olive Leofanti had opened the Scumble River School of Adult Dance a little more than a year ago. When her original partner had been unable to come up with her half of the money for the business, the future of the studio had seemed bleak. But in June, Olive had found another investor, changed the name of the school to Turning Pointe, and expanded to include lessons for children. Immediately, class size had begun to increase, and now the place seemed to be thriving.
    Having two left feet, Skye hadn’t been to the school since the grand opening, but her mother’s daily family bulletins had kept her informed. Skye vaguely remembered May mentioning that Olive’s new business partner was from out of state and that the woman had sent her daughter to represent her interests in the studio. But Skye didn’t recall receiving a report about the new hire. May must be slipping—normally even a part-timer would have rated a mention.
    As Wally made a right onto Basin Street, Skye commented, “You said we’re