by Iris Kincaid
“That’s true. And I am proud of myself,” Jasmine said. She looked around at Erin, Isabel, and two other women around her, and decided to come clean. “I am four years sober this month. Four years of sobriety. I never thought I’d be able to say that. So, yes, I guess I do have reason to celebrate my life.”
Regina Gorman had an uncanny ability to stick her nose into every conversation at just the right moment for maximum intrusiveness.
“That’s an awful long time to be sober. But, you’re right, you should celebrate.” She held out a glass of champagne to Jasmine. “And take it from me, this bubbly little piece of heaven is the absolute best way for you to celebrate.”
Regina looked around at the horrified faces of the other women and laughed heartily.
“What? We’re all adults here. Can’t anyone take a joke?”
Mr. Chaplin joined the group. “Regina. Mrs. Gorman. I know the open bar is very tempting, and there are all kinds of things to celebrate tonight. But maybe it’s time to move onto the coffee for a while.”
“Coffee! That reminds me—I wouldn’t mind a shot of Kahlúa.” She left in the direction of the bar with Principal Chaplin right on her heels.
What an insensitive thing to do. Especially after Jasmine had just trusted some people who barely knew her and bared her soul. Erin pulled her aside for a little private chat.
“Four years of sobriety. That sounds as if was preceded by a lot of hard times,” Erin said.
“If that is a very tactful way of asking how long I was a drunk, then . . . it lasted almost fourteen years. Long time. Right about the time I was dropping out of college. It was a lot of wasted years. So many wasted years.”
“I know what you mean,” Erin commiserated. “I feel as if I lost so many years of my life. I mean, I was here. I was alive. But I was pretty hopeless. And I wasn’t fully living.”
“Yeah. That’s it. That’s what it was like.”
“And when I look back, I had no one to blame for that but myself,” Erin said.
Jasmine cocked her head cynically. “I do blame myself, I guess. But not only myself. There’s plenty of blame to go around.”
Hmm. What on earth could Jasmine mean? Probably too early in their acquaintance for a good, long hug.
Nearby, Vice Principal Clay Metcalf was pleading with Isabel Ferreira to drive the drunk Regina Gorman home.
“I’d love to. Well . . . maybe not ‘love.’ But I can’t do it. I have to stay. I’m the organizer.”
“It doesn’t have to be right now. And I’ll keep asking around. But if I can’t find anyone else, just take her with you at the end of the evening when everything is finished. It really would look awful if she got into a car accident on the way home.”
Isabel caught Erin’s gaze and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I guess I can give her a ride.”
What drama! Erin had to confess to herself that so far, she was blessedly free of the green-eyed monster and had yet to run into many classmates whose lives she would like to trade hers for.
CHAPTER FIVE
It was time to take her place behind Edgar Noonan, who was presenting himself proudly to Latin instructor Nora Kipling with “Carpe Noctem.”
“Seize the night! My goodness, Edgar. I can only imagine how you have been spending your nights. Did you turn into a party animal?”
They laughed and joked, and finally, Erin got her turn.
“Alis propriis volat,” Erin said, by way of greeting.
“She flies with her own wings.” Mrs. Kipling nodded approvingly.
Back in the day, Erin had imagined that the wings were a metaphor for her own kidneys—Something that would give her freedom and control over her own life.
“Oh, my dear. I have heard that you have indeed acquired a new set of wings. I’m so enormously happy.”
She wrapped Erin up in a big bear hug. And unlike most of the other embraces that evening, the mind that Erin read was single-mindedly focused on Erin.
Nora Kipling wiped away a little tear. “You would be very surprised to know how often I’ve thought of you over the years, Erin.”
“I remember you as being the best thing Oyster Cove High had to offer,” Erin said.
“Oh, you don’t know how I shall treasure that. Docendo discitur.”
“I learn by teaching,” Erin recited.
“And now I can die a happy woman,” Mrs. Kipling said, truly amazed by Erin’s memory.
All in all, it was one of the most unconditionally satisfying encounters of the evening. Until . . .
All of this adoration being heaped on Nora Kipling had become a bit too much for Regina Gorman to take.
“Well, if it isn’t the Queen of England. Look at you, holding court. You always cared about popularity more than a teenager, Nora. I never cared about being liked. Well, not by students. I certainly always got my share of masculine attention. Oh, you’re not still carrying a chip on your shoulder, are you?” She turned to Erin. “Nora here had a thing for my ex-husband, Mr. Gorman, may he rest in peace.”
“Of course not,” Mrs. Kipling said. “That is a matter that is long-forgotten. And of course, I remember being terribly sorry when I found out that you were widowed.”
“Not widowed. Divorced. I was his first wife. His first, first wife. He married someone else later. Oh . . . I’m tired of this party. But I know when I go home, my neighbor’s barking dog is just going to keep me up all night.”
“You know, I have that very same problem, and I may have just the thing for you.” Nora couldn’t fight her kinder instincts, even in the face of Regina’s oafishness.
“Now I had a lot of reservations about taking sleeping pills, not wanting to get addicted to anything. But they worked like magic. And my doctor only gives me ten every month, to make sure that I don’t become too attached to them. I could give you . . . two of mine. If they work, then you can get your own prescription. Of course, you can’t use them tonight. They just don’t mix well with alcohol. Not at all. So, give them a try tomorrow. Take one just an hour before you want to go to sleep.”
Regina grabbed the pills and wandered away without so much as a thank you.
“I don’t know if she’s going to be able to stick to the no pills and alcohol rule,” Erin said.
“Oh, the drinking is a very uncommon thing. I’ve known her for a few decades and I’ve never seen her this drunk. No, she’ll be fine, as long as she doesn’t take any pills tonight. Oh, dear. What has she gotten herself into now?”
An angry young man in his early thirties was having a loud confrontation with Regina Gorman. He looked too young to be part of the reunion party and was also dressed way too casually. Having someone screaming at Regina Gorman was like a car crash that attracted a multitude of onlookers, including Erin.
“Having a good life, are you?” the young man demanded. “In your big house? Yeah, I know you’ve got a big house. I know you’ve got a nice car, and money in the bank, and you’re livin’ large. Well, I don’t care what the law says. The law is not always about justice. The law lets people die. Do you really want that on your conscience?”
By then, two security guards had flanked the young man and were gesturing for him to leave. He was reluctantly ready to stomp away when Regina called out to him.
“Go back to where you belong, Oscar Meyer.”
He turned around and lunged at her and had to be held back by the security guards.
“My life not good enough for you? My job not good enough for you? Yeah, I’ve got a hot dog cart. It’s good, honest work. My father would be proud of me. He would have wanted to help me. I can’t believe he ever gave you the time of day.”
And with that, he wrenched himself free of the security guards and stormed out of the building with a guard close behind him. There was a lot of buzz and speculation in the air. Erin had to wonder whether Regina had dropped by to liven up every year’s class reunion to this degree. Regina managed to ignore it all and just kept guzzling her glass of cham
pagne.
After about ten minutes, the security guard returned.
“Was that man related to you?” he asked Regina. “Just wondering. His name was Wesley Gorman, so I just thought—”
“Well, stop thinking,” Regina snapped. “No relation.”
How could that possibly be true? In any case, Erin was ready to call it a day. On her way out of the pool room, she passed Clay Metcalf, stationed at the exit. He absentmindedly shook her hand on her way out. He witnessed the whole ‘Oscar Meyer’ heckling. It was more than reminiscent of Regina’s dismissive attitude toward the janitor. Clay couldn’t believe this Philistine had been chosen for the principal job over himself. “I can’t let this happen. This has to be stopped. She has to be stopped.”
Erin shrugged sympathetically. If you can find some way to stop that woman, the entire community will be in your debt.
*****
There was a lavish brunch scheduled for the next morning at The Grand Hotel, the most elegant, upscale facility of its kind in town. Walking into the lobby, the tea room, and the dining room was always a jaw-dropping experience. This particular morning, it could be better described as surreal, as there were uniformed cops everywhere.
The alumni were quickly ushered to their seats to await official announcements, which soon came from the rather cute, curly-haired, no-nonsense Officer Finn Cochran.
“Hope you folks are enjoying your reunion. I sure don’t want to do anything to disturb that. However, just a few hours ago, a body was found floating in the Oyster Cove high school pool, where most of you enjoyed last night’s party. The deceased is Regina Gorman, a history teacher at Oyster Cove for the past twenty years. I believe you’re all familiar with her.” He waited a full minute for the loud exclamations of surprise and shock to settle down.
“Now, we already know that she had quite a bit to drink last night. So, just for the record, maybe next year, you want to rethink the whole open bar-swimming pool thing. But, despite appearances, it is important for us to ascertain whether this was an accidental death or something else.
We’ve set up several tables along the far wall over there. There are over 200 of you whose statements we need to take. I have a list here, provided by the reunion organizer, Ms. Ferreira, of who attended last night’s party. So, I want you to go ahead. Belly up to the buffet, help yourself to a good meal. We’re going to do our best to handle this in a very fast manner and get out of your hair because we know this is a very special week for you. Oh, and try the Eggs Benedict. It’s out of this world.”
Regina Gorman’s drunken, insulting performance had stolen the show the previous night. And this morning, her death did the same. This would forever be known as the reunion where Regina Gorman met her end, floating face down in the school pool. It was a rather emotionally confusing event. Theoretically, there should have been sadness and mourning. In actuality . . . not so much.
Erin had made a point of getting a seat right next to Orlando Wicks. It was probably a rather mutual point since they met in the lobby and stayed together in a very reciprocal fascination. Orlando seemed a bit more affected by the news than most other individuals.
Erin reached out to touch his hand, hopefully in what would be taken as a sympathetic gesture when all she really wanted to do was to read his mind. He was heartened by the touch of her hand and bothered by it at the same time.
“What would Erin think of me if she knew I had killed someone? She’d never be able to forgive me.”
It was a startling enough revelation that Erin quickly and involuntarily drew back her hand.
“Crazy weekend, huh?” she said nervously. “What a terrible accident. Drinking. Too much drinking. I guess we’ll all have to go talk to the police. Even though I don’t really have much to say to them. What’s there to say?”
Orlando nodded. “It’s a shame that she never . . . never became a better person. If anything, she got worse. I think about A Christmas Carol, how terrible and selfish and mean Scrooge was and how fantastically kind he was at the end. Wouldn’t it be nice if real life was like that? But at the end, Regina Gorman was terrible and selfish and mean. Maybe, if she had been kinder, she’d still be alive.”
“You mean that you think she was murdered?” Erin said, wanting to grab his hand again but restraining herself—it would be a little weird.
“I believe in karma. I think we get what we deserve. I think that Regina Gorman got what she deserved. I know that sounds cruel. But I’m afraid almost everyone present would agree.”
That may well be true, but that still didn’t give you the right to kill her!
Erin was halfway through breakfast when the police called her up to get her statement. This was awful. She had just heard Orlando’s confession that he’d killed someone. That Regina Gorman deserved it. And she was just starting to like him so much. How could she like someone who was capable of murder?
“You have any reason to suspect foul play?” a stern cop asked her.
Erin sighed. “I think there’s a good chance that she was probably murdered.”
“Is that right? By whom?”
“I can’t say for sure. But . . . it might have been Orlando Wicks. At least, you should question him pretty carefully.”
“What makes you think that?”
Because I’m a mind reader. I have witch parts in me. I have magical powers. And I could tell you exactly what you’re thinking right this moment in the blink of a handshake.
“Because . . . I heard him say that he killed someone.”
It was close enough to the truth.
“That’s pretty interesting stuff. Did he say that to you?”
“I was very close to him when I heard him say it, yes.”
It pained her more than words could say to have to rat on Orlando. But if he was a murderer, then there was no happy union in their future. Although . . . no, no, no. She wasn’t going to be one of those women who married a man who was behind bars. If he was guilty, she was just going to have to let him go. She had done her duty—her sad, loathsome, moral duty.
As she got up from her seat, she heard Officer Cochran talking to the janitor close by, Carter Dunn.
“When did you leave the school?”
“I left at eight o’clock. Maybe 8:30. Mr. Metcalf said it was okay. The party was from seven to eleven. So, I was going to come back at 11:30-ish and clean things up and lock the building up.”
“And did you come back?”
“I came back around midnight, but I was so tired. You know, I had fallen asleep at home. And school is out for the year. No one was scheduled to use that swimming room for anything tomorrow. I mean today. So, I thought I would just lock up. So that’s what I did. I thought I would come back in the morning around eight o’clock to finish up the cleaning. It’s so hard to get a good night’s in my line of work.”
“You came back at midnight, locked up, went home and returned at eight o’clock this morning?”
“That’s right.”
“Thank you, Mr. Dunn. The body has been removed. The CSI team has finished, and you’re free to return and finish cleaning up the pool room.”
“Thank you. Thank you.”
Finn Cochran couldn’t help but notice that Erin was listening in intently on the conversation. When she saw that she been caught eavesdropping, she turned away in embarrassment.
“Hold on. Hold on. Please step back here, Miss . . . Sweeney,” Finn said after glancing at her name tag. “I couldn’t help but wonder from the look on your face whether you might have something on your mind.”
“Well, I’ve already given my statement. I was just listening to Mr. Dunn and wondering whether he had seen Isabel . . . But you’ve already spoken to Isabel, so I’m sure she told you everything you need to know.”
“I’m sure she has. But why don’t you tell me again? What is it that I need to know?”
“Just that Vice Principal Metcalf had asked her to give Regina Gorman a ride home because she was so drunk. B
ut obviously, she didn’t give her a ride home. I just . . . it’s a little confusing about what might have happened. The whole night was a little strange and confusing. Maybe reunions are always like that.”
“Tell me about it. I’ve got three years till mine, and I’m still thinking about how to get out of it. No, I take that back. I get to show off my wife, and that always makes for a good evening. My wife’s Margo Bailey. She owns Margo’s Movie House. You’ve probably been in there. It’s a fantastic place.”
Erin’s eyes flew open in recognition. “Margo’s Movie House? You’re Margo Movie House’s husband?”
“Yeah, why?”
“It’s just that I’ve heard that your wife is . . . rather special.”
Now it was time for Finn’s eyes to fly open. “She is pretty special. But where did you hear that from?”
“From Martine. And Ruby.”
“Hold on. Are you trying to say that you are also . . . rather special?”
Erin nodded and bent closely to whisper in Finn’s ears, “Kidneys.”
Finn could barely stifle a chuckle. “Well, whaddya know? You just became my new best friend. I would really like to get together soon and find out about the extent of your talents. For now . . . is this a murder we’re dealing with?”
“I think it is.”
“And do you know who the killer is?”
“I probably do. But I already told the officer who got my statement. And this is a little hard for me. The guy who I think may have done it, well, he’s such a sweet guy. It’s hard to understand why he would kill someone. How could he ruin his life like this?”
“His life? You think he ruined his life? You need to head over the morgue and take a good, close look at a ruined life. I mean, I know she was a piece of work, but sheesh!”
“If only we had gotten to know each other before this reunion. It might have changed everything. Now we won’t ever . . . ever . . .”
“Are you crushin’ over the perp?”
Erin turned away, annoyed, and went back to her seat. Orlando wasn’t there. He was taking his turn at the police statement tables. Officer Finn Cochran had called over Isabel Ferreira and appeared to be giving her an extra-close grilling. She actually finished up before Orlando and joined Erin at her table.