“Of course. That makes sense. You both needed to eat, so why not go together and get something?”
“That’s exactly it. It wasn’t a date,” she said. “But, can I tell you something?”
“Sure.”
“When we got to the café, Christine Tidwell was there. She works there part-time in the evenings and on weekends. Darren stuck up a conversation with her,” she said and stopped.
“And?” I asked.
“Well, he just seemed so familiar with her. Just—I don’t know. There was something about it that bothered me,” she said, her eyebrows furrowed at the memory. “I’m being silly, I suppose. But it struck me as odd at the time. Of course, Christine is an adult, and I’m not saying anything inappropriate was going on, but it was odd.”
I nodded. “I suppose it could have been that he was a regular customer there, and they were familiar with one another,” I suggested.
“You know, that’s probably what it was. We shouldn’t mention it to anyone. I wouldn’t want anyone to think there was something more going on there than there really was.”
“I agree,” I said. “We’ll keep it to ourselves.”
I hated that Darren Peabody was dead. And I knew Robert wouldn’t think twice about Jefferson telling him that Peggy had had dinner with him recently. But it did bother me that her name had been brought up at all. And it bothered me that she had never mentioned having dinner with Darren, no matter how casual it had been. We told each other everything.
Chapter Seven
I drove home with thoughts of the day hanging over me. Salyers wasn’t the sort of town here murders were common, and Salyers High had been reeling from the news of its art teacher being murdered, with students gathered in corners, whispering. Some of the students looked shocked as they walked the halls, and a few were teary-eyed. An official announcement hadn’t been made, but it was common knowledge by the time the last bell rang.
When I pulled into the driveway, I saw that Daniel hadn’t made it home yet. Most of his classes were for advanced students and he frequently stayed late to tutor them. The juniors were preparing to apply to colleges and universities and would be taking entrance exams and Daniel did his best to make sure they had the best possible chance at getting in. That man was a keeper.
I shut the engine off and lowered the top on the Bel Air and went inside. Daniel and I had no human children, but we did have Edward. Edward had come to us as an eight-week-old kitten via my sister’s errant female cat that got herself into trouble. Edward was a white, gradually turning cream-colored cat with peach colored ears, face, and tail. He had been the runt of the litter, but to look at him now, you wouldn’t know it. Edward had a love for everything Daniel and I ate as well as his cat food and he weighed in at a hefty eighteen pounds.
He jumped off the arm of the sofa and trotted over to me with a meow. “Hello, Edward. How was your day?” He looked up at me with his blue eyes and meowed again. I ran a hand over his head, then rubbed his shoulders a minute. I was rewarded with loud purring. “All right, I’ve got to get dinner started. Daniel will be starving when he gets home.”
I headed to the kitchen and opened the yellow Cycla-matic Frigidaire. It was thoroughly modern and the prettiest shade of yellow. I had placed a small roast in it to defrost overnight and I pressed a finger to the butcher paper to make sure it was thawed and ready for the oven. Pulling out the roasting pan from the cupboard, I greased it with oil and set the beef into it. Then I set about peeling carrots and potatoes and slicing an onion. Edward sat at my feet, occasionally meowing and rubbing against my legs, begging for a bite of meat.
“You’ll have to wait,” I told him.
After I put the roast into the oven, I headed back to the living room to straighten it up. With there being only the two of us and Edward, there wasn’t much to clean. I had friends and relatives that constantly complained about their children leaving fingerprints on everything. I sighed. I’d trade my neat and orderly house for a few fingerprints if given the choice.
I put a load of laundry into the washing machine and smiled when Daniel came through the front door earlier than expected.
“Hi,” he said and gave me a quick kiss.
“Hi yourself,” I said and took his coat from him. I went to the hall closet and hung it up. “Have you heard anything about Darren’s murder?”
“Not really. A lot of the students are upset, but I suspect some of them are upset because it’s expected.”
“Maybe,” I said. “Principal Jefferson came by my classroom and Peggy was there. He said he gave the police Peggy’s name as someone to speak to concerning the murder.”
His eyebrows flew up in surprise. “What? Why would he do that?”
“You know how he is. He said he heard Peggy and Darren were dating. But Peggy said they had simply gone to the Corner Café one night after working late.”
“They went out?” he asked in surprise.
I nodded. “But she said they did not date. They both had to eat and so they ate together. It just irks me that Principal Jefferson is trying to make more of it than there is.”
He chuckled. “Seems typical for him. What did she say when he told her he had talked to the police about it?”
“She was shocked. She said they only went out the one time and it wasn’t a date.”
“Did she have any insight into what might have happened to him?”
“No, of course not. She thought he was odd like the rest of us do,” I said. “Dinner will be ready in about an hour and a half.” The roast was small enough that it wouldn’t take long to cook.
He picked up the newspaper from the coffee table and sat down in his chair. “I Love Lucy is on tonight.”
“I know, I can hardly wait.” We had only had a television for just over a year and it still felt like a marvel to us. The fact that people we didn’t even know would suddenly appear in our living room through the television was still a novelty.
“I do have to wonder what might have happened to Darren. Everyone said he was up to no good, but I didn’t think much of it. I figured people talked because he was a little different than what we’re used to around here. Maybe they were right,” he said as he opened the newspaper.
I untied my apron and pulled it off. “Makes me wonder.”
“He was probably listening to a lot of rock and roll music. I hear that leads to corruption.”
I glanced at him. He had said it with a straight face and didn’t look at me. I narrowed my eyes at him.
“I take it Principal Jefferson mentioned my corrupting influence to you?”
He grinned but still didn’t look at me. “Could be. We have a reputation at the high school to uphold, you know.”
“Well, far be it for me to bring down the reputation of the entire school, but I’m probably not going to stop listening to my music. Corrupting or not.”
“Suit yourself. But I can only cover for you for so long. One of these days, the piper will have to be paid.”
I snorted and went into the kitchen to check on the roast. Principal Jefferson was the bane of my existence.
***
One thing Principal Jefferson did that was nice and helpful was to arrange for a substitute teacher for the art students. I breathed a sigh of relief and reminded myself not to say anything negative about him that day. I would have to think over whether I would say something negative the following days. There was a bright-eyed young woman that didn’t look a day past twenty-one in the art class. Jennifer Anderson. I had met her briefly before classes started and she’d fairly jumped up from her chair to greet me and then hesitated a moment, looking unsure of whether a hug was in order. I’d stuck my hand out to solve her dilemma and she told me all about what she’d learned in her college art theory classes. Her enthusiasm was frightening. Had I ever been that excited about teaching? I thought she was going to be in trouble with the art students. They’d wear the shiny newness off her in no time.
My second period c
lass was more subdued than usual. After taking roll, I wandered around the class to see if anyone needed help and spotted Christine at her sewing machine. She didn’t appear to be doing anything productive with her dress spread out on the sewing table and a seam ripper in one hand.
Just as I was deciding what to do next, the classroom intercom came on.
“Good morning students and faculty, this is your principal, Mr. Jefferson. It’s with sorrow that I’m making this announcement. As many of you know, Mr. Peabody, our art teacher, passed away over the weekend. We expect you all to understand that these things happen from time to time and that you all will keep the discussions to a minimum.”
I sighed. Jefferson had a way with words. The girls all looked at one another and those closest to each other whispered. I cleared my throat to let them know we weren’t going to spend our time doing that. “Let’s all try to do as Principal Jefferson has advised and keep the chatter to a minimum.” It was all I could think of to say. Most of the students probably knew more about Darren’s death than anyone would like.
Christine stared off into space, a forlorn look on her face. I went over to see how she was. “Good morning, Christine,” I said. “How’s the dress coming?”
She looked up at me, her face pale and her eyes shiny with unshed tears. She smiled. “I’m fine, Mrs. Taylor. How are you?”
I smiled back. “I’m fine. Are you okay?”
She sighed. “I don’t know. I guess I’m a little sad over Mr. Peabody’s death,” she whispered.
I nodded. “It was a shock. I think everyone is still trying to process it.”
She took a breath. “I hope the police catch whoever did it.”
“I’m sure they will. They’re certainly working on it,” I said. I wanted to ask her how well she knew Darren, but I didn’t know how. Asking about something like that could be deemed inappropriate by the school board, and I didn’t want someone to mention her name to the police when they didn’t have first-hand information. “Did you ever have Mr. Peabody for art?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m not very talented at that sort of thing. But he did come into the Corner Café frequently. I have a part-time job there.”
“Oh, I see,” I said. Christine looked older than her years and was pretty. I imagined some people might mistake her for a woman in her mid-twenties. “Did you speak to him there often?”
She nodded. “When it was slow at the café, we would talk. He always left me a nice tip. It helped. And he talked to me about music. Music was really important to him.” The look on her face said she enjoyed the interaction with him. It may have been that there was a real lack of attention at home due to her father spending time in jail.
“I didn’t know that about him,” I said. I loved music. It might get me into real trouble here at work one day, but it was important to me and I could identify with Darren Peabody, at least on that front.
“Yes. He said rock and roll was going to take over the airwaves one day. He said everyone was going to forget about all the music that came before it and every radio station on the air would be playing it.”
I smiled at her naiveté. I doubted rock and roll would be all there was in the world to listen to. Too many other people were invested in other types of music and I thought that was good. Nonconformists trying to get conformists to conform to what they liked wasn’t any different than those so-called conformists and what they tried to do.
“I guess we’ll have to see about that. Christine, did he ever say anything that might have been telling about what happened? Did he have any idea he might be in danger?” I whispered this and looked around to make sure no one was within earshot.
She thought about it. “Not exactly. I mean, if he was worried about something specific, he didn’t mention it. But, there was one thing he did say that struck me as odd. It was about Miss Baines.”
Hearing her name surprised me. Ellen Baines was the choir teacher and was friendly enough, but for the most part, she kept to herself. “What did he say?”
“He said she was keeping her eye on him. He said she would follow him around campus, and he thought it was ridiculous. He told her to stop, but she only stopped for a few days. She was back at it the following week.”
When she said this, I remembered seeing Ellen walking down the home economics and art wing of the school several times recently. I couldn’t imagine why she was here because the choir room was at the other end of the school. I hadn’t really put much thought into it at the time.
“Ridiculous? Ridiculous how?”
She leaned toward me and whispered. “He thought she was spying on him for Principal Jefferson.”
“Really?” My first thought was that it was ridiculous to think that. My second thought was that knowing Jefferson, it was possible. And then I wondered if Darren was doing something Jefferson thought he needed to keep an eye on him for.
She nodded. “Yes. He said he thought the way the school was being run was stifling to the students and he thought it was wrong to treat us the way Principal Jefferson did. He said he had no qualms about expressing his opinion to Principal Jefferson and it had made him angry. And you know what? I agree with him. We don’t get enough credit for having our own minds. We’re treated as if our opinions don’t matter.” Her eyes took on a look of determination as she spoke.
I nodded slowly. Of course she thought the students weren’t being treated well. She was a student after all and had been held back from graduating. I could also see where Principal Jefferson wouldn’t have enjoyed anyone standing up to him. “Well, it’s probably best not to express that opinion so close to your graduation,” I advised gently. “You only have a few weeks until you’re free to do as you please.” Christine wasn’t going to make it through a sixth year of high school and her only hope was to graduate in June. If Principal Jefferson got wind of what Darren had been discussing with her, he might try and keep her from graduating.
Her eyes went wide as she considered this. “I suppose I shouldn’t talk about it.”
“Christine, if you can think of anything else Mr. Peabody said, will you let me know? And let’s keep this to ourselves.”
“Yes, I’ll let you know. I don’t want to spend another year in school.”
“Of course not. That’s why we’ll keep these things just between us.”
I liked Christine. But she would have to keep all of this to herself or she wouldn’t graduate. Principal Jefferson was that petty.
Chapter Eight
“I’ve got an idea,” I said, plopping down on the chair next to Peggy’s desk. It was 3:00 and the last of my students had just left. Since it was Wednesday, I was looking forward to the weekend. A teacher’s week is driven by which day of the week it is. Is it Monday? If so, we struggle. But when Wednesday is over, we’re starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel. It probably wasn’t much different for people at other places of employment, but when you dealt with teenagers all day, it felt especially true. Never mind dealing with the likes of Principal Jefferson.
She turned to me as she closed the top drawer of her desk. “What kind of idea?” she asked.
I smiled. “Let’s go by Darren’s house and see what we can see.”
She stared at me. “You mean, snoop around?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Aren’t you curious about what happened?” It had been on my mind all day. I had tried to get ahold of Robert the previous evening, but his wife said he was working late. It wasn’t any of my business, but I wanted to know what was going on with the investigation. I couldn’t imagine who would kill Darron. Being a schoolteacher had to be one of the most mundane jobs on the face of the planet and I couldn’t understand how one could end up getting murdered.
She grinned. “That sounds like fun. Let’s go!”
It wasn’t so much that we were happy to gawk at the place someone had been murdered. It was more that we were worried about someone being killed in our little town. There was a killer on the loose and it made
for a nervous energy that crackled in the air.
We drove Peggy’s 1947 Ford Super Deluxe Coupe. It was black and wasn’t as flashy as the Bel Air. Just in case someone might wonder why we were at a crime scene, I wanted the car we drove to be indistinguishable from lots of other cars in town. She parked in front of the neighbor’s house. Robert had exaggerated when he said Opal Adams was ninety and deaf, but she had to be in her eighties. We didn’t think she’d mind us parking there.
We got out and looked over our shoulders to make sure no one was watching the house, then slowly walked up the sidewalk.
“Wow, the front yard sure is torn up,” Peggy whispered.
And it was. Someone had driven a car across the front yard, cutting up the grass with their tires. The weekend rain had been a downpour and it had facilitated the damage we saw here. Darren hadn’t been much on lawn care, though. There were weeds growing wild along the walkway and the brick planters at the front of the yard were bare of anything other than some dried old stems leftover from the previous summer.
We continued walking slowly up the walkway, still looking over our shoulders. “Makes you wonder what happened,” I said.
I glanced across the street. Robert had said the house directly across from this one was empty, and he was right. I wondered about the house next to that one. If someone had been here spinning donuts in the front yard, wouldn’t they have seen something? Or at the very least, heard it?
We stopped at the front door and turned around to look at the yard. It looked like someone had driven across the yard not once, but twice. First one way, and then turned around and went back the direction they had come. But in the center, the lawn had been torn up by the tires of the car in what could only be caused by those donuts. It had to have taken at least several minutes.
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