Free Murder of a Cranky Catnapper by Denise Swanson Page A

that’s one way to win over your new mother-in-law.”
    In addition to Wally’s divorced status and the fact he wasn’t Catholic, his age had been a huge issue with Skye’s mother. May had been afraid that he’d have difficulty producing a grandchild for her.
    Wally’s expression hardened, but he ignored Simon’s comment and said to Skye, “Why don’t you just let me drive you home, sweetheart?”
    â€œI’ll wait until you’re through with Dorothy,” Skye said, chewing on her thumbnail. “She pretends to be a tough old broad, but this really knocked her for a loop and I think she needs my support.”
    â€œOkay, darlin’.” Wally led Skye a couple of steps over to the Cadillac, where the older woman still appeared to be napping, and opened the door. “I’ll get Quirk and Reid situated, then talk to Dorothy.”
    Skye slid inside the car, but as Wally turned to go, she said, “Wait. Before I forget, Lynch was in church yesterdayand afterwards he was making a lot of campaign promises. Once he left, I overheard some of those conversations and people weren’t happy.”
    â€œAnother thing for us to discuss tonight.” Wally kissed her cheek.
    Simon had followed them and tsked. “May said you promised to attend Mass with Skye. That didn’t last long. Did it, Chief?”
    Skye had had enough of her ex and she glared at him. He had moved on. He was dating Emmy Jones. What was his problem?

CHAPTER 7
    Beware of people who dislike cats.
    â€”IRISH PROVERB
    D orothy opened her eyes when Skye got into the car. However, as soon Skye started to tell her what was happening, she quickly closed her lids and turned away. Understanding that the distraught woman wasn’t ready to face the situation, Skye swiveled her head and gazed out of the Caddy’s back window.
    Because it was a weekday morning, most of Lynch’s neighbors were at work. But the few who were present were intent on finding out what had happened.
    Less than a minute after the arrival of the second squad car, an older couple had taken seats on their porch to watch the show. Next, a woman and toddler came outside and sat on their front steps. That twosome was quickly joined by another mother and child.
    Wally had assigned Sergeant Quirk the task of cordoning off the property. He had draped yellow ribbon around the yard’s perimeter and placed a pair of sawhorses blocking the driveway.
    With the crime scene tape up, the onlookers moved closer, gathering behind the barricade. The small group was now asking Quirk questions.
    Rolling down the car’s window, Skye tried to hearwhat was being said, but she caught only an occasional word or phrase. It sounded as if the sergeant was claiming ignorance, which wasn’t far from the truth. Wally hadn’t given him any details beyond the fact that there was a suspicious death.
    Skye studied Quirk. Roy was in his mid-thirties, and, except for his lack of hair, he still looked like the football player he’d been in high school. She could tell the sergeant was starting to lose his patience with the nosy neighbors because he was making shooing motions with his hands and his face had turned an ugly shade of red.
    Even from where she sat, Skye could see that Quirk was having trouble remaining civil. She knew that in the past the sergeant had issues with his temper—she’d been on the receiving end of his short fuse a few times herself—but Wally had insisted Quirk see a therapist and he’d been doing better.
    Hoping to avoid a relapse, she quickly hopped out of the Caddy. She hurried to where the irate officer stood glowering at an elderly man waving a cane.
    Pushing against the wooden barricade, the man shouted, “We have a right to know what’s happening in our own neighborhood!”
    â€œSir,” Quirk said between clenched teeth, “please step back.”
    A young woman holding a