by Jen Carter
Livy nodded again, this time more slowly. “The text seems as apathetic as everything else about him. It’s hard to freak out over apathy. And maybe it’d be easier to take the quote more seriously if he were a girl. Or short. Though she be but little she is fierce.”
I saw what Livy meant. Of all the possible insults written in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, it seemed odd that our little jokester would choose one that specifies a woman’s small stature for Victor.
Now, if L.G. or E.B. had gotten that quote, I would have been thoroughly chilled. But Victor? It seemed far less insulting to him.
I scanned the park, thinking. Most of the students had already reached the parking lot or disappeared into shops along Via del Corso. Sandie and Aldo were still talking at the nearby bench, but now Aldo was standing. I imagined he was saying goodbye.
“So tell me more about Victor,” I said. “Are you not a fan?”
Livy cringed, almost apologetically. “No, not really a fan. I just don’t understand him. He’s not a great actor, and he doesn’t seem to care. He shows up late and forgets things, and he’s not apologetic or self-deprecating. He doesn’t get embarrassed, and he’s not witty—everything about him is just sort of there.” She pulled out her phone again, glancing at its screen. “And then this quote. I don’t get it, just like I don’t get him.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sandie Oakes walking toward us. Her thick dark hair was pulled into a ponytail, and the way it swung happily behind her matched the lightness of her steps. The way she moved, I never would have guessed she was in her late sixties. She was faster than most of the thirty year olds I knew.
“Hey, Sandie,” I said as she approached. “Enjoying your afternoon outside?”
“Hi, Jill. Hi, Livy. You two sure are something with those kids. I’m so glad that you’re continuing to do the play even if the school no longer supports it. Kids need opportunities like this. And practicing outside in the fresh air is even better.” Sandie paused, her expression changing as though she recognized something that she hadn’t noticed before. “Everything okay, girls? You both look worried.”
Livy held the phone toward Sandie. “See that picture? The handwritten line at the top of the script page? What do you make of it?”
Sandie took the phone from Livy, her eyebrows furrowed as she read the line at least two or three times.
“The handwriting isn’t pretty, but it’s a great line.”
“Not a threat, right?” Livy asked.
Sandie took a moment to gather her thoughts before responding. “No, I wouldn’t say a threat. In the context of the play, it would be an insult, though. Helena is talking about Hermia right in front of her, and not in a nice way. But by today’s standards, I don’t think many people would find this insulting. Don’t many women equate being fierce with strength and empowerment? But when we see Helena spitting out that line on stage with such strong emotion, we know she’s not giving a compliment.” Sandie handed the phone back.
I looked at Livy. “Victor wouldn’t understand any of that, would he?”
Livy shook her head. “I don’t think so. But I still don’t know what to make of it.”
Sandie touched both of our shoulders gently. “I can see you’re in the middle of something, and I don’t want to interrupt. Just wanted to say you’re doing a wonderful job.” She took a step backward and waved. “I’m off to see a friend, but I look forward to catching more of these practices if you don’t mind me watching.”
“You’re welcome any time,” Livy said. “We might have to put you to work, though. Fair warning.”
Sandie gave a little laugh and then turned to walk across the park in the direction of Hathaway House.
“I guess Fitts would need to know about this,” I said. “Just in case it is legit. I mean, we don’t know if any of the quotes we’ve found over the last two days relate to Fleming’s death, but just in case, we ought to add this in.”
Livy gave me a defeated look. “I know this play is my thing and I should be the one to call him, but can we do rock-paper-scissors for it? I really don’t like talking to him.”
I wouldn’t want to talk to Fitts after the long day Livy had, either.
“I’ll call and put him on speaker,” I said. “If you have anything to add, just jump in, okay?”
She nodded.
And there I went, calling Detective Fitts, again.
TWELVE
Meet for dinner? I’ll be done in about twenty.
Nico’s text came in just as Livy and I ended our call with Fitts. The conversation hadn’t been long or interesting. Fitts already knew about the quote in Victor’s script, and he told us that a handwriting expert was currently determining if all the script and notecard quotes were written by the same person. He also told us that the moms of the high schoolers who found Fleming were starting to annoy him and that we shouldn’t encourage their frantic, frazzled behavior.
Like we would do that.
I was glad to see Nico’s message. I was getting hungry, and twenty minutes would give me enough time to mull over what had just happened.
Perfect, I texted him. I’ll be on the patio at the winery.
For a Tuesday in the late afternoon, our winery was pretty busy. I poked my head into the tasting room and waved at Holly, who was pouring wine behind the bar. All the high-top tables inside were surrounded by groups of wine tasters. Then I turned back to the patio and snagged the only unoccupied table. I dropped my shoulder bag on the ground and rummaged through the extra scripts I had brought to play practice in case Eli and Victor showed up empty-handed again, eventually finding my notebook and pen. I flipped the notebook open to a blank page, and my hand began moving across the paper before my first thought was fully formed.
Fleming taught English and drama. Probably ninth grade. (Evidence: To Kill a Mockingbird assignment on board today, young-looking kid walking into class)
“The Cask of Amontillado” is taught in ninth grade. Romeo and Juliet is taught in ninth grade.
Romeo and Juliet was performed by drama students in winter, and now they’re working on A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
Kids who found Fleming got quotes from those plays (even Victor).
LG and EB took over Fleming’s drama program and got quotes from A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
I drew a triangle. I labeled the top point Fleming, the lower right point Ninth Grade English, and the lower left point High School Drama. Inside the triangle, I wrote Killer.
I stared at my triangle. Was I crazy to make those connections? It seemed plausible to me, but maybe I’d just read too many mysteries and was letting my imagination get away from me. Again.
I needed to find out more about Fleming. He wasn’t well-liked, but what were his interests outside of school? Who was he, really?
I looked up from the notebook and took a deep breath, hoping the air and the view of Via del Corso would help generate new ideas. Immediately Jada Helton and Athena Andres caught my eye. They were snaking through the tables on the patio, heading straight for me.
“Hey there,” I said. They each took a seat at my table, and the determined looks on their faces told me that they weren’t just stopping by to say hi on their way into the tasting room.
I remembered what Fitts told me not even five minutes earlier. Don’t give those moms any more reason to freak out about this.
“Jill, we heard that you yelled at Victor today at school,” Athena said. She leaned toward the table and looked earnestly at me. “Is that true?”
Shoot, my almost-Oscar-worthy performance as a bad cop had more people whispering than I ever expected. It wasn’t just the teenage girls talking about it. Now their moms were, too.
Was I in trouble? Neither Jada nor Athena were my mom, but suddenly I felt like I was about to be lectured by a parent.
“Yes,” I said. The impulse to explain myself was strong, but I refrained. Even if a parental lecture was coming on, I reminded myself that I was an adult, mo
re or less. And as an adult, I had to do what Fitts asked: not encourage frantic or frazzled behavior. A one-word answer had to be the way to go. Defending myself could open the floodgates and get all three of us riled up.
Jada leaned in, mirroring Athena’s posture. While Athena was thin with dark hair and olive skin, Jada was nearly the opposite with her curves, light blue eyes, and blonde hair—but they both had the look in their eyes. It was the look that said I’m a parent, and I will run you over to protect my children if I have to.
“Can you get him kicked out of the play?” Jada asked. “Maybe kicked out of the school?”
Whoa. I hadn’t expected that. And flattering though it might have been that they thought I had any power to do anything, officially I had the power to do absolutely nothing.
“I don’t,” I said. “But can you tell me why you want him out? I mean, I know he left your girls in a really bad situation after they found Fleming at the Old Everly Place. But is there something beyond that?”
Jada and Athena leaned back and exchanged glances.
“We don’t like him,” Athena said. “He was Fleming’s favorite, and now that Fleming is gone…” She paused to purse her lips and shake her head. “It’s all very fishy, and we just don’t like him.”
“He was Fleming’s favorite?” I repeated.
It hadn’t occurred to me that Victor could be anyone’s favorite.
Before the moms had a chance to answer my question, which really was rhetorical anyway, I continued. “I have to ask you two something. What was the deal with Fleming? I’ve heard that the kids didn’t really like him. Was he mean? Or hard to relate to? Or something else?”
“Sophia had him as an English teacher when she was a freshman,” Athena said. “From a parent’s perspective, he was distant and vague. When Sophia had trouble with writing, I couldn’t get any guidance from him. I didn’t ask him to give her special attention. I just wanted to know his recommendations for tutors or websites or anything else that could help her. It took about a week to get an email reply from him, and he never returned calls. He never did offer good suggestions, either. She ended up with a C in the class, and now I look back and kick myself. I should have gone into the office and requested another teacher. That school used to have such great administrators. They probably would have done it in a heartbeat.”
Athena looked at Jada. It was her turn to jump in.
“My girls have always been involved in drama—all of them,” Jada said. “Fleming was a pretty good teacher for my two oldest daughters, but something changed a couple years ago. It was like all the passion for directing plays drained out of him, and now I’m not even sure why Gracie and Ashlyn continue with drama. They loved watching their older sisters and couldn’t wait for their turn. I guess they only stick with it because they had their hearts set on it for so long. Oh, and of course because their friends do it. But Fleming didn’t inspire them at all.”
I nodded. This new information was interesting. I didn’t know if it was important, but it was interesting.
“Well, look at that,” Athena said as she pointed across the street. “There’s one of the administrators I was just talking about. What was his name again? Dr. Sevens? He was an assistant principal, I think.”
My eyes followed her pointing finger.
No.
Couldn’t be.
Across the street, Dr. Stevens was walking along the sidewalk.
“I saw him here yesterday too,” Athena said, “but I didn’t have a chance to say hi.” She stood and looked like she was about to yell across the street to him. I grabbed her arm and pulled her back down.
“Please, please don’t call him over—not right now,” I said. “He might have been a great assistant principal at Temecula Hills, but now he’s the principal at my school, and he does not like me.”
Athena looked puzzled. “Dr. Sevens? He doesn’t like you?”
“It’s Dr. Stevens, and no, he doesn’t like me. He’s also the one who gave Lucy Argyle a quote for the paper when Bradley Greer died a couple months ago in the Chocolat fire. Remember that? What he had to say about OV wasn’t nice.”
“Really?” Athena said. “I never would have imagined. I guess I didn’t connect the quote in the paper to him since I thought his name was Sevens and not Stevens. But besides that, he doesn’t like you? How could that be?”
“Truth be told, he doesn’t seem to like anyone at our school.”
I was still stunned that Athena thought Stevens was great. He was so not great at my school.
Maybe he was going through a difficult time personally and it was affecting his work. I couldn’t think of any other possibility off the top of my head.
“Oh, it looks like he’s heading into my restaurant,” Jada said, watching as Stevens stepped through the gated patio area in front of her café. “Athena, let’s head over. Then you can say hi, and I can make sure that his service is top-notch.” She winked at me. “If he didn’t like OV before, let’s see if we can turn that around.”
The two mothers said goodbye and walked across the street.
That was an unexpected but insightful little meeting. I looked at my notebook and scrawled a few more thoughts.
Stevens used to be nice.
He was at the high school today.
He tried to fire Fleming. (Not new information, but seriously, why??)
Fleming used to be a good teacher.
Fleming stopped being a good teacher.
I stared at the notes. Then I flipped back a couple pages where I had taken my first round of notes. Frustration started to build as I realized my notebook wasn’t big enough. There were too many pieces of this mystery. I had too many lists, and I couldn’t get a good grasp on any of them. I needed more space to spread out and look at all my notes at once.
From somewhere off to the right, I heard a voice I really didn’t want to hear. Dr. Stevens might have been first on my list of people to avoid, and Lucy Argyle might have been second on that list, but Elita was definitely third.
“Please, please, please, please! Oh, please, please, please! Pretty, pretty, pretty, please, please, please!”
Oh my goodness, what was wrong with her now? I looked up to the right. The scene was exactly as I expected. Nico was walking toward D’Angelo Winery, and Elita was trailing after him, hands grasped together as she pathetically pleaded her case, which wasn’t much of a case since it only consisted of two words: pretty and please.
Nico caught my eye and grinned. Maybe he enjoyed this little scene. Or maybe he was so beyond the point of caring that it was just easier to smile than to scowl.
“This is exactly why I’m hesitant,” he said over his shoulder. “Your neediness is going to drive him away, and then where will Entonces be? This isn’t about you. It’s about Entonces and making sure it has a good manager.” He abruptly turned just as he reached the patio, and Elita almost ran into him. “Now I’m going to have dinner with Jill. You need to leave me alone and prove that you can handle business matters professionally.”
Elita looked at me. I smiled and waved. Her jaw clenched as she fought the urge to give me a dirty look. It really was so hard for her to stop acting like a five-year-old all the time.
“Have a nice dinner,” she said. Then she turned and walked down the street, her hands clasped behind her back, reminding me of a schoolgirl in a French children’s story.
“Ready?” Nico said as he approached the table. “Anywhere in particular you’d like to go?”
I gathered my things and then took his outstretched hand. “Anywhere but Jada’s. I hope you weren’t in the mood for a cheeseburger tonight, because my principal is having dinner there.”
“Mexican food it is, then,” Nico said.
Thank goodness he was easygoing and didn’t tease me for being afraid of my principal.
THIRTEEN
At eight-thirty that night, I got an unexpected text. It was from Jules, and it went to both me and Livy.
S
orry for the last minute notice, but I can’t run in the morning. The Council of Elders accosted me as I was leaving the bakery this afternoon and begged me to teach them tai chi. Actually, they bribed me. Promised me bottles of wine and free dinners at Deseo. The only time I can do tai chi is in the morning when we normally run. You’re welcome to join us!
Well, why not? Some sunrise tai chi would be great. Far less sweaty than running, at least.
Sounds fun, I wrote back. East Park? Normal time?
A second later, Livy chimed in and said she’d be there as well. Then Jules confirmed the time and place. I hadn’t ever done tai chi before, but it looked pretty cool on those commercials for that one allergy medication where a possible side effect was death.
The next morning, I got up, took Uni out, and got ready for tai chi. I wasn’t quite sure what kind of clothes were appropriate, but running clothes would probably be fine. It was all I had when it came to exercise attire, anyway. Was tai chi done barefoot? I guess I’d find out when I got there. I slipped on my flip flops, grabbed my running shoes just in case, and headed to the garage.
As the garage door went up and I walked between the two cars parked inside, I noticed a dark blue Honda Civic blocking part of our driveway. I passed my car and stood at the top of the driveway, wondering which of our neighbors was responsible for the botched parking job. I could still back out, but I’d have to go diagonally across the driveway to make it work. Just then, the driver’s side door opened, and Lucy Argyle stepped out.
Seriously? It was barely six o’clock in the morning, and she was camped out in front of my house? I turned to my car and wondered if it would be better to back out diagonally or just plow right into Lucy.
“Jill, I need to talk to you,” she said just as I reached for the door handle.
Ignoring her, I opened the door, slid inside and started the car. In my side view mirror I saw Lucy walking up the driveway in her black pencil skirt and white-and-black striped blouse. Whatever. It didn’t matter if she needed to talk to me. I wasn’t talking to her. I backed out of the garage diagonally.