Murder of a Botoxed Blonde Read Free Page A

paperwork and attend the afternoon Halloween procession.
    Normally in Illinois, mothers made sure Halloween costumes were loose enough to wear over snowsuits, but this year the weather had surprised them. The sun glared down on the concrete steps and asphalt drive as if it were July. Skye huddled in the little bit of shade the overhang provided. She had dressed in khaki slacks and a short sleeve peach polo shirt, prepared for the non-air-conditionedschool, but the sweat still dripped off her face and pooled under her arms.
    As the last of the children completed the circuit, the teachers marched their students into their classrooms for refreshments and games. Skye was considering going to the special education classroom to see if she could help with their party when the PA system squawked, “Ms. Denison, please come to the office.”
    Skye felt a frisson of unease at the announcement. It was exceedingly unusual for her to be summoned via PA at the grade school. While the high school principal called for Skye’s assistance at the first sign of an angry parent or sticky situation, the elementary school principal went to the other extreme, handling everything but the most severe matters on her own. Skye hurried toward the front of the school, a line of worry appearing between her eyebrows as she wondered What could have happened.
    When she entered the school office, she saw a stunningly beautiful woman who seemed somewhat familiar standing at the counter.
    Skye nodded to her, then said to Fern Otte, the school secretary, “You sent for me?”
    “Yes.” Fern clipped off the word, giving it an impatient edge. She was a tiny woman whose affinity for brown clothing enhanced her resemblance to a wren.
    Skye wasn’t sure what had put the ticked-off look in Fern’s small black eyes, but she hoped it wasn’t something she had done. Getting on Fern’s bad side was a career-limiting move. Behind the secretary’s mild façade, she ran the office as if it were the Department of Motor Vehicles—everyone took a number, waited their turns, and kept their mouths shut.
    The silence lengthened until finally Fern said, “This”—the pause was almost imperceptible—”person insisted I summon you, and refused to give a reason.”
    “Oh.” Skye looked toward the woman causing Fern’s pique; Skye had to be careful not to appear to be taking her side against the secretary. “I’m Skye Denison. You wanted to see me?”
    “I’m Margot Avanti. Is there somewhere we could speak in private?”
    “Is this about one of our students?”
    Margot ignored Skye’s question and restated her request, “I’d prefer to speak to you alone.”
    Skye gave Fern an apologetic look, and said to Margot, “We can use my office, but I’m afraid it isn’t air-conditioned.”
    “Fine.”
    Skye led the way to her office. The woman followed, the only sound the click of her high heels on the worn gray linoleum.
    In order to break the silence, Skye attempted a small joke. “I have to apologize for my office. I’m sure you’ve heard about the ‘No Child Left Behind’ law, but what we really need is a ‘No School Psychologist Stuck in a Broom Closet’ law.”
    The woman looked at Skye blankly, then carefully studied the interior of Skye’s office before stepping inside. The room contained a small desk and two metal folding chairs. It had started life as a storage room for the cafeteria, and a faint odor of sour milk still permeated the air.
    Once they sat down, Skye asked, “What can I do for you, Ms. Avanti?” as she tried to edge her scat back a little. With her knees nearly touching the other woman’s, Skye felt as if they were about to play patty cake.
    “Please call me Margot.” Despite the heat, the woman’s ash blond hair remained perfectly straight, her makeup was intact, and her Yves Saint Laurent blouse and skirt were crisp and unwrinkled.
    “Margot it is.” Skye had a strong sense of having seen the woman previously. “We