1 Per Cent Murders

by T W Morse

  I pull into the parking lot of Penny U as the rain is finally coming to an end, and my Prius can breathe a sigh of relief. Parking is hard to find, but I catch a space in the back, grab our guitars, and proceed inside. To my horror, among the packed cafe, I can see Bob and Mary Clifton sharing a four-top table. Mary is practically in Bob’s lap, and Bob looks like he is a ventriloquist happily pulling her strings. Half the school is here, along with parents and staff. The cafe is large, so the crowd disperses and it doesn’t feel overcrowded. Modern pop songs are drowning out the crowd noise; something by Pink or Lady Gaga is ringing in my ear.

  I drop our guitars next to the table occupied by Bob and Mary and nervously sit next to Bob. “What’s up, buddy?” I ask quizzically.

  Mary answers first, “Hey, Logan!” She responds like we’ve known each other for years instead of a mere twelve hours. “We just ordered some fries, if you want in on that action. Bobby and I just arrived. We had to run fast because the rain was so hard.”

  Every word spoken sounds like she’s known Bob and me for years. To make matters worse, Bob is falling for this act. Completely oblivious!

  “Yeah, the rain just stopped. I’m going to wait and eat after the performance. Have you guys seen Ulysses?” I feel a bit desperate in my desire to get away from this awkward scene.

  Bob takes a break from giggling with Mary, and, once again in his Barry White impression, says, “He’s over with Hannah Reyes behind the counter. I think they are an item now, I taught that boy well. Mmm...”

  “That is so adorable!” Mary excitedly expresses.

  “Thanks,” I interject and quickly flee to the counter, away from the Bob and Mary show. As I move, I dodge and greet people along the way. It is hard surfing the crowd since I know everyone here.

  Ulysses is behind the counter helping Hannah prep different orders coming out of the kitchen. He sees me and beams with happiness. I know instantly that he and Hannah are now an item. I gesture for him to meet me at the end of the counter.

  “So? It looks like she said yes. Wicked good job!”

  “Dad, are there no surprises with you? It was chill. I’ve been helping the Reyes family with the prep for tonight. This place is packed!”

  “I’m proud of you, buddy! You’re not nervous, are you?” I am becoming a bit nervous, but I know Ulysses and I have been playing guitar together since he was ten. Jill and I used to play together as well, and now music is one of the few things U and I have to remind us of her.

  “I’m not nervous, I feel awesome!”

  “Your guitar is over at Bob’s table. We go on in about a half hour. Did you get something to eat?”

  “Yeah, Dad, Mr. and Mrs. Reyes have not stopped feeding me!” he says as a side-dimple-ridden grin runs over his face.

  “Nice! That’s their way of saying they like you.”

  “They must really like me then! I’ve had a Cuban sandwich, fries, plantains, and a slice of Mrs. Reyes’ famous key lime pie. At this pace, I may never go hungry again. How’s it goin’ with you?”

  “Well, my best friend is hanging on our boss, whom he has barely known for a day, in a room full of his peers and parents! Did you see how Ms. Clifton is hanging on him? You don’t think that’s odd?”

  “You’re just jealous. She is pretty cute, for an AP, I mean. She did get me out of a pinch today.”

  I look wearily at Ulysses. “Bob does look happy, but don’t you find her weird?”

  “I think all administrators are weird, Dad. Don’t be so worried about her; I would be more concerned with Mr. Barron's fight with Mr. Wright. That’s some drama, huh?”

  “So you couldn’t hear a thing? What did Conrad say?”

  “I haven’t had a chance to talk to him, but he’s coming tonight. The only words I heard was something about a letter and the word ‘gallant.’ I think it was gallant, I can’t think of another word that sounds like that.”

  “Gallant doesn’t ring a bell. And you say Mr. Wright pushed Mr. Barron?”

  “Yeah, and when the door swung open, Mr. Barron was on the floor recovering things from his desk that were strewn across the floor.”

  As we speak in whispers, Hannah comes over to us and asks what we were talking about. Ulysses fills her in.

  Hannah interjects, “They said the word ‘gallant’?”

  “Why, Hannah? Do you know what they were discussing?” I quickly respond before Ulysses can.

  “Yeah, I overheard Mr. O’Leary speaking to Mr. Barron last week before school started. They were discussing the old house that was once owned by a family named Gallant; O’Leary had just bought it. Mr. O’Leary mentioned he had bought it for practically nothing and was renovating it, or something. Then Mr. Barron mentioned he knew the previous owners and would be interested if Mr. O’Leary found anything in the renovations. I distinctly remember them saying the name Gallant several times. Barron was very interested.”

  “U, that’s the big run-down house we run by, over by the conservation. That must be it.”

  Hannah beams. She just gave us a huge lead in our little mystery.

  “So why was Mr. Wright arguing with Barron about O’Leary’s fixer upper?” I think out loud.

  Hannah shrugs, but Ulysses adds, “I say we investigate. Mr. Wright also mentioned a letter. Maybe he did work for this Gallant; he is a lawyer.”

  “Maybe, but I’ll inquire about the house when I speak to O’Leary concerning your geometry incident today.”

  “It really wasn’t his fault, Mr. Adair. Mr. O’Leary has it out for U,” Hannah passionately defends Ulysses.

  “I know, but both of you should be extra careful around him from now on.” As I speak, Mr. Reyes takes the stage to introduce tonight’s first performer.

  “Tonight is a mucho special evening,” Mr. Reyes rasps into the microphone. “Penny University will now make the tradition of having open mic night every Friday night. My wife and I are proud of Somerset’s new cafe, and we want to open it up to the arts of Somerset and invite individualism and creativity. After all, that is what Penny University is all about. Well, I better finish up. Mrs. Reyes is giving me the sign to wrap up. So, our first performer tonight is a teacher at our very own Mangrove High School. He is going to share some of his original poetry with us tonight, Mr. Samuel James.”

  When Mr. Reyes finishes, the entire cafe erupts in applause and a tall, lanky man, adorned in a seersucker suit, takes the stage with a thin black and white composition notebook at his side.

  It is nice to see other teachers perform tonight. I’m glad I’m not to be the only one putting myself out there. I am also glad to see Mr. James and not Mrs. Swanson, although she is sitting with a bunch of the older teachers near the back patio, and yes, they are also dressed in jean material and adorned in the same chunky turquoise jewelry.

  “Please tell your parents thank you for allowing us to play here tonight, and congratulations on all the success,” I tell Hannah as I wink back at Ulysses and rejoin the train wreck about to happen between Bob and Mary.

  “Logan, Mary here was just going on about her rock-climbing adventures. She climbed K2 last summer. I’d like to go climbing sometime. The YMCA has a rock wall with our name on it,” Bob says with a giggle and a boyish smirk, making his gushing face look like a pumpkin.

  “Oh yeah?! I love climbing, too. There’s lots of great climbs back in Maine. I have difficulty with the knots though. I always had my wife tie them. I could never tell the difference between a figure eight and a barbell,” I comment.

  Mary sips her coffee concoction, looking at me with intense intrigue. “Figure eight knots are easy. Maybe I can show you when Bobby and I go to the YMCA.”

  Since I made up barbell knots and she didn’t catch it or say there was no such thing as barbell knots, I now know Mary Clifton a liar, at least on the subject of climbing and maybe more. Worst of all, I think she knows that I know she is lying. She creeps closer to Bob, and I look away to watch the poetry readings on stage. Student after
student goes up, nervous voices squeaking but determined. I pull out the iPad I use for sheet music, studying my selection and ignoring Bob and Mary.

  “What you got there, Logan?” Mary asks with a hint of school girl taunt.

  Bob dashes in before I can respond. “That’s Logan’s addiction. His iPad, he studies sheet music, probably deciding what he and the kid are playing tonight. You decide yet?”

  Ulysses and Hannah come over as Bob is speaking. Hannah introduces herself to Mary, and for first time Mary’s demeanor changes. It is no longer young and naive; it is now stern and rigid.

  “Nice to meet you, Hannah Reyes. Your parents seem to have done well for themselves with this quaint cafe. Are you working tonight?”

  “Yes, Ms. Clifton.”

  “Well, Mr. Nelson’s and my drinks are now empty; can you remove them and get us another?” Mary sternly requests, her whole face changing to stone. The table becomes awkwardly silent. A “please” would’ve been nice, I think.

  Bob quickly breaks the silence by coughing. “Thanks, Hannah, you’re the best! Tell your parents great job.”

  Ulysses and I study the situation and watch Hannah walk away, wearing a peeved expression.

  I break the silence further by leaning into Ulysses, “Hey, how about we play this, this and that?”

  I swipe my finger over the iPad screen showing him the sheet music to three songs we’d practiced exhaustively for a couple of years. The first was Cat Stevens’ “Where Do the Children Play,” then The Beatles’ “The Long and Winding Road,” finishing with Tom Petty’s “Wake Up Time.” We try to only practice ten songs, so we become really good at just those tunes. We mainly stick to the singer/songwriters of classic rock. Since it’s my first performance since Jill died, and the first with Ulysses outside of our condo, I choose songs he will crush.

  I hear a cow bell on the patio, signaling sunset, followed by a chorus of people clapping. The bell and applause are a nightly tradition in Somerset. This also signals U and I that we’ll be taking the stage in a few moments.

  Right on cue, Mr. Reyes mounts the stage again after the final poetic performance. He reiterates thanks to the patrons, this time adding thanks to Mr. James and his poetry class. Applause was thunders through the cafe. I try to get in the last-minute conversation with U throughout his speech but manage to add in my applause at the end.

  “I would like to invite the Adairs to the stage. Ulysses and Logan, come on up. They are going to play some acoustic guitar for us,” Mr. Reyes exclaims, hissing his words out with exuberance.

  Ulysses and I grab our nearby guitar cases and take to the small circular stage where two fragile looking chairs stand waiting for us. Keeping them company are two tall, metallic, vintage Dynamic microphones. I set my iPad on a music stand for both of us to view.

  I look at Ulysses with enthusiasm, “You ready, big guy?”

  He nods with a grin, “Let's rock and roll!”

  We unpack our guitars. Mine was a thirty-year-old satin black Gibson that Jill’s parents had bought me on my thirtieth birthday. Jill would play the piano and I would play my Gibson to the early cold mornings by our wood stove back in Maine. Ulysses was not so lucky; his guitar was a twenty-year-old Harmony. A hand-me-down from my college days. His was traditionally stained natural. Ulysses always plays the rhythm, and I play lead guitar. He looks nervous but confident. One light shows down on us, illuminating even the dust, while about 150 students, teachers and Somerset residents stare in anticipation. Bob is grinning while Mary has her head on his shoulder looking blankly at me.

  I nod to U, and we begin the Cat Stevens classic. When we finish, we are proud of no mistakes. Ulysses ran through the chords perfectly, and best of all, our voices didn’t crack. When we finish our first song, the audience goes nuts.

  Before starting the “Long and Winding Road,” I speak to the audience, “This next song goes out to my late wife, Jillian Adair. We’d often play songs by The Beatles, and every time Ulysses and I play these songs, a little piece of Jill comes back to both of us. So this one's for Jill.”

  Everyone ferociously begins clapping; Bob even wipes a tear away. I see Hannah do the same, her eyes and Ulysses are locked on each other, glistening in the loud lights. Aww, young love. When we finish, we continue right through the next applause to “Wake Up Time.” By the time we are done, people are on their feet, clapping and whistling. Mr. and Mrs. Reyes come up and emphatically hug both of us. Hannah also kisses Ulysses.

  Ulysses turns to me and says, “Mom would be so proud!”

  “Yeah, she would!” And I rub my hand through his puffy hair, and we both bow to the crowd. While bowing, I see Bob and Mary slink out the front entrance. I hope you know what you’re getting into there, big guy.

  CHAPTER 14

  - ULYSSES -

  PIZZA, DRUGS, BASKETBALL, AND TRACKSUITS. OH MY!

  L ast night was truly lit! Hannah and I are an item! Maybe we’ll get a cool celebrity name mesh like Uannah — nah! Everything is going awesome! Dad and I rocked and got a standing ovation last night. I feel great. My only trouble is Conrad. He didn’t show up at Penny University last night. I’ve sent him snaps, texted him, called him, but no luck. Dad says not to worry, he probably has a lot of stress. Mangrove High’s men's basketball team is playing Everglades High later tonight. I am a little concerned; it’s not like Conrad to not contact me. He usually at least sends me a pic or an emoji.

  Dad and I are cruising over to Penny U to pick up Hannah, jamming out in the car to some Amos Lee. It is only five o’clock, but we need to get some dinner before the game. Dad is watching the door at the game tonight, to make sure nobody enters without a ticket.

  We pull into the parking lot where Hannah is outside waiting. She yells into the cafe before bolting down the stairs towards our car.

  “Who’s ready for some b-ball!?” Dad obnoxiously bellows as I switch to the back seat, and we are on our way.

  Hannah, also a little corny, encourages him, “I am! Let's send Everglades High back to the swamp! Give me a WHAT! — WHAT!”

  “WHAT! WHAT!” Dad echoes back.

  “Hope you don’t mind we’re meeting Mr. Nelson at Somerset House of Pizza. Why didn’t you want to eat at Penny U?” I softly speak so Dad can’t hear.

  “I worked there until 11:00 last night and woke up at six, on a Saturday, to set up for today’s breakfast crowd! I have the next three days off, and if I’m there, they will put me to work.”

  “That sucks, no worries,” I reply and kiss her on the cheek.

  Dad spouts quickly and semi-sternly, “Whoa, whoa. I’m still getting used to you guys dating. Friends is one thing, but now it’s something totally different. Also, I’m Hannah’s teacher, so cool the lovey-dovey stuff around the old man, capeesh?”

  Hannah giggles, “Capeesh, Mr. Adair.”

  “Jeez, Dad, it was just a kiss on the cheek!”

  “Capeesh?” Dad repeats.

  “Capeesh, Daddio. Really, Dad, is it your role in life to bring back every dorky word ever used in the English language?”

  “Damn Skippy!”

  Hannah and I laugh and talk about school, her parents, and my concerns about Conrad. When we arrive at the Somerset House of Pizza, both Hannah and I are starving. Our stomachs do a rumbling drum beat as we walk inside and catch the scents of oil, bread, and spicy tomato sauce wafting through the air. We see Mr. Nelson at a table, already looking anxious, in a silver tracksuit adorned with white racing stripes. Emblazoned on his right chest is “Coach Nelson, Mangrove High School Athletics.” He looks nervous. His usually dark skin appears pale, his cheeks red, and he is twisting his hands together awkwardly. When he sees us, he tries to put on a game face, but Dad sees right through it.

  “You okay? You look a little white.”

  “It’s that bad?!” he quickly responds, shocked either by being too nervous or too white. Both sound equally distressing to Mr. Nelson.

  “Both Terry Lewis and Jack Lipton h
ave been suspended.”

  Hannah and I look at each other in amazement. Terry and Jack are Mangrove High seniors and Mr. Nelson’s best basketball players. Dad’s mouth literally drops.

  “I shouldn’t be talking about it, but it’s too awful! What chance do we have at beating Everglades High now?”

  The waiter approaches; everyone is too stunned to acknowledge him except Dad. He knows we are on a time crunch, so he orders two pepperoni pizzas and two pitchers of Coke.

  “Is that alright, Hannah?” he asks.

  “Sure, sure,” she replies, still shocked by the news, while the waiter retreats to the cash register.

  “What the heck happened?” Dad loudly inquires.

  Mr. Nelson hesitates, wringing his hands. “I got a call around noon from Principal Barron. He said an anonymous tip came to him that both boys had drugs in their locker. So he called the parents and the boys into the school while Mary — Ms. Clifton — and Deputy Diaz searched their lockers.” Mr. Nelson is practically squeaking out his words. “They found several ounces of marijuana! They now have to serve a forty-day suspension, not to mention no — basketball. We were going to destroy Everglades High! But — now!”