In this delightful Scumble River Mystery, a school psychologist has her hands full after a school board sourpuss meets a bitter end...   With her morning sickness finally abated, Skye Denison-Boyd is ready to pounce on the pertinent problems she faces as Scumble River Elementary School’s psychologist. After trying almost every trick in the book to aid a handful of socially awkward fourth grade boys, Skye opts for the innovative approach of pet therapy with the assistance of the local vet, a Siberian husky, and a Maine coon cat.   Unfortunately, the first session only breeds disaster and draws the ire of cantankerous school board member Palmer Lynch. But Skye’s worry over the episode changes to dread after Lynch is found dead in his home with the therapy cat hidden in his garage. With a clowder of questions unleashed, Skye finds herself dealing with a killer who isn’t pussyfooting around... Praise for the New York Times Bestselling Scumble River Mysteries   “I enjoy every minute of every book of this series.”—#1 New York Times bestselling author Charlaine Harris   “The quintessential amateur sleuth: bright, curious, and more than a little nervy.”—Agatha Award–winning, national bestselling author Earlene Fowler   “Humor continues to be the strongest aspect of this long-running series, although it runs neck-and-neck with the smoldering romantic relationship between Skye and Wally.”—Kings River Life Magazine   “[A] master of the small-town mystery.”— Crimespree Magazine   “Swanson shows once again why she’s one of my favorite cozy mystery authors.”—Fresh Fiction Denise Swanson is the New York Times bestselling author of the Scumble River mystery series and the Devereaux’s Dime Store mystery series. She worked as a school psychologist for twenty-two years before quitting to write full-time. She lives in Illinois with her husband, classical composer David Stybr. Chapter 1 The cat has too much spirit to have no heart. -Ernest Menault May 2007 As school psychologist Skye Denison-Boyd hiked down the main hallway of Scumble River Elementary School, she juggled her purse, a bulging tote bag of files, an old shoe box containing reinforcement rewards, and a cup of heavily sweetened and creamed decaf coffee. Passing the front office, she glanced through the window of the closed door. There was still no sign of her visitor. Not that she really expected to see him. Although he wasn't due for another fifteen minutes, she'd hoped he'd arrive early enough for her to greet him and explain a few things. Skye hesitated, wanting to wait for her guest, but then walked on. The boys in her fourth grade counseling group would show up any second, and she couldn't risk not being in the room when they got there. Rule number one in any educational setting was never leave children unsupervised. Hmm! She should start writing that type of information down for next year's school psych intern. Rule number two had to do with the secretary and custodian. The first day of Skye's own internship, her supervisor had sat her down and explained that those two individuals had the power to make her job a heck of a lot easier or nearly impossible. He had advised her to find out their preferences, then provide them with a steady stream of treats. And although her internship had been almost a decade ago, Skye had always remembered his words of wisdom. She'd quickly discovered that as an itinerant school staff member, more often than not, she needed the custodian or secretary's assistance on a daily basis. And keeping on their good side was a matter of self-preservation. Which was why Skye had made a mental note when she'd overheard Fern Otte, the grade school secretary, tell someone that she loved Chicago's famous Garrett popcorn. Fern had confided that the caramel and cheese combination was her one gustatory weakness. So today, when Skye had stopped by to ask Fern a special favor, she'd dropped off a canister of the costly snack. It was a small price to pay for having her visitor escorted through the warren of corridors instead of left to wander through the labyrinth alone. Speaking of which, Skye paused at the T-intersection leading to the building's oldest wing. This was where the real maze began. She sighed and turned the corner. Instantly, the smell of mildew hit her full force and she sneezed, then sneezed again. Great! Now her eyes would water and all the effort she'd spent putting on mascara, shadow, and liner would be wasted. Skye didn't generally bother with much makeup, usually settling for a quick dusting of bronzer-and if it had been a late night, a dab of concealer. However, this morning when it had taken her three tries to find a pair of slacks that zipped, and none of last spring's blouses would button over her baby bump, she'd decided that in order to face the day, she needed everything in her cosmetic case. Intellectually, she knew that her clothes were tight because she was pregnant, and that s