by Jane Tesh
“Let’s get it closer to the door.”
Jerry carried the portrait to the attic door. In better light, we could see Constant Lyes Fenton, as dark and grim as Cousin Barnaby and all the other Fentons, standing in a typical portrait pose, one arm outstretched, the other tucked in the front of his jacket. A small stream was in the background, along with some trees and muddy clouds. At the end of his outstretched hand was a small brown bird, just about to light on his fingers.
Tori grasped my arm with both her hands. “Oh, my goodness! This has to be it!”
We turned the portrait over and felt along the back. “There’s something here,” I said. I borrowed Jerry’s pocketknife and made a small slit in the back. I pulled out an envelope. Jerry set the portrait aside. We sat down at the attic entrance. I handed the envelope to Nathan, and he opened it. Inside was a letter and yet another Bufo card. This one showed Bufo holding his Power Stone above his head in triumph, gold rays shining in all directions.
Nathan read the letter aloud, his voice trembling. “‘If you are reading this, congratulations. Take this key to my attorney, Misty May, in Rossboro. Use your money wisely.’”
A small key was taped to the letter.
“The one true key!” Tori said. She clapped her little hands. “We did it! We solved the mystery.”
“I can’t believe it,” Nathan said.
I checked my watch. “You have time to get to Rossboro. Give Misty May a call and tell her you’re on your way.”
He nodded. “Come with me, Tori.”
“Oh, no,” she said. “I’d better not.”
“How about you, Madeline? Jerry? I’m so excited, I’m not sure I can drive.”
“I’ll be happy to take you,” I said, “but Jerry better stay here.”
Jerry helped Tori down the attic steps. He and Nathan pushed the steps back up into the ceiling. Tori dusted her hands. “Well, I guess this is good-by,” she said.
“You’re sure you won’t come with me?” Nathan asked. “I never would have found the key without your help.”
“No, thank you,” she said. “I’m glad we’re friends again, though.”
“And it’s not good-by,” I said. “We’ll come visit again. I may need your help with some other cases.”
“That’s really sweet of you, Madeline.”
“And I promised to teach you some magic tricks,” Jerry said.
I could see she was pleased by our offers, so I made one last try. “And Tori, Jerry and I would still like you to come with us to the ballet. You know now nobody will be talking about you about what happened with Aaron.”
“I don’t know. Parkland is a long way off.”
“Thirty minutes, that’s all.”
She smiled. “I’ll think about it, Madeline. Now hurry and get Nathan’s inheritance! I can’t wait to hear what happens!”
Nathan called Misty May, who told him she’d be glad to wait until he got to her office. He was so nervous he agreed to let me drive his car to Rossboro.
When he handed Misty May the key and Elijah’s letter, his hand shook so badly, he almost dropped both items.
“It’s okay, Mr. Fenton,” she said. “This is the right key.” She opened a small safe in her office and took out a stack of important looking papers. “These bearer bonds belong to you now. I think you’ll find that over the years, they’ve increased in value. I believe the total is close to three million dollars.”
“That’s a lot of bat houses,” I said.
Once Nathan had recovered from that shock, he signed the proper papers, and Misty May’s secretary and I signed as witnesses that the bonds were handed over to a legitimate participant in the riddle game. Misty May put them in a briefcase and cautioned Nathan to put his winnings in a safe deposit box right away.
“I intend to,” he said.
“The bank’s our next stop,” I said. “I have business there, too.”
She gave me a keen stare. “I would imagine so.”
At the Celosia National Bank, while Nathan deposited his money, I took mine out. I didn’t care if Jerry would protest. I had enough to cover his debt. I’d just have to find more cases. Nathan would certainly give me a glowing recommendation.
“I can’t thank you enough, Madeline,” he said. “This has been quite an experience.”
“I hope you have the money you need to fix up the camp,” I said.
“Oh, yes. It’s going to be the best camp ever. And I’m going to frame this Bufo card.”
Nathan drove us back to Celosia. On the way, I called Tori to tell her the good news, and then called Jerry to tell him I was on my way home. Nathan dropped me off and waved at Jerry as he drove away.
“Did you have to go a few rounds with Misty May?” Jerry asked me.
“That’s taken care of.” As I’d predicted, he was not happy to hear I’d taken money out of my savings account to pay off Big Bert.
“Mac, I told you not to do that.”
“Have you heard from any of your friends?”
“Well, no.”
“Then we’ll give this money to Mr. Finchner on Monday, and you can start paying me back.”
“I will pay back every cent, I promise.”
I gave him a kiss. “I know you will.”
“The riddle’s solved,” Jerry said. “What’s next?”
“I’m going to work in my studio for a while, that’s what’s next.”
CHAPTER SIX
I had time to finish the landscape that evening. Then I worked most of Friday morning on the third picture, keeping an eye on the time. I wanted to go by Celosia Elementary after the children had gone, but before the school closed for the day.
Jerry wanted to come along. “What do you want to do?” he asked as we went out to the car.
“I need to find out if anyone else on the faculty has a condition that requires a syringe. I suppose the secretary might have that information.” Wait a minute. Someone else at the school would have that information, and access to syringes. I stopped so suddenly, Jerry ran into me.
“Whoa,” he said. “What did you think of?”
“School nurse, Brenda Mullins. She probably has everyone’s medical records, and she would have access to anything at the hospital, including potassium.”
“But didn’t you tell me she’s something of a dim bulb? And she was at the high school when Amelia died.”
“I’ll admit she seems an unlikely suspect, but she may have provided the killer with what he or she needed.”
***
Brenda Mullins looked at Jerry and me with wide eyes. “I can’t give you that information. Personal health records are not for public view.”
“I’d just like to know if anyone on the faculty has diabetes or a health condition that requires them to take shots.”
“I’m the only one who’s supposed to give shots.”
“I understand that. Could you tell me if anyone on the faculty knows how to administer shots?”
“I’m sure I don’t know. They’re not supposed to, so why would they?”
“There aren’t any students who require help with injections?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
By the time we got to the school, everyone had left for the day except Thad Murphy, the secretary, and fortunately, Brenda Mullins. The school’s first aid room was about the size of a closet, so Jerry was standing behind her. He pantomimed wringing her neck.
“Do you also work at the hospital, Ms. Mullins?” I asked, thinking, I hope I never have you as my nurse.
“No, I’m strictly a school nurse.”
“But you know people there?” I remembered something I’d heard in the teachers’ lounge the day Amelia was found dead. “Your boyfriend Joey works there, doesn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“Is he a doctor?”
“He works in the ER.”
Behind her, Jerry put a finger on his nose. Bingo.
“Helps out with supplies and things?” I asked as casually a
s I could.
“He does all kinds of work there. He’s really very smart.”
“So if you needed something, or someone here needed something, he could get it for you?”
She gave me another wide eyed look. This look wasn’t dull. This look looked frightened. “Oh, no. That’s not permitted.”
“So if someone asked you to get them some cold medicine, let’s say, you wouldn’t ask Joey to pick up some extra samples?”
“He wouldn’t do that.”
“Not even as a favor for you?”
She gave me another frightened look and fidgeted with the papers on her desk. “If you don’t have any more questions, I have lots of paperwork to fill out.”
“Okay.”
“I was at the high school when Amelia Lever died.”
“Yes, you told me. I believe you.”
“And she had a heart attack, that’s all. I don’t know why you’re going around stirring things up.”
“Thanks for your time.”
Jerry and I squeezed ourselves out of the tiny room and walked down the hallway back toward the office.
“I believe you hit a nerve—if she has any,” Jerry said.
“I believe I did. Come on, there are a few classrooms I want to check.”
Thad Murphy had lent me his master key, but Mrs. Lever’s former classroom was unlocked. The room was cluttered with flowers, stuffed animals, a fountain, a fish tank, and a cage containing two fat guinea pigs that whistled shrilly at the intrusion.
“Good job, watchpigs,” Jerry said. He scratched their heads. “I wish my fifth grade classroom had looked like this. It’s Disneyland.”
Loops of little Christmas lights hung from the ceiling. Posters covered every inch of the walls. The students’ homework was displayed on every bulletin board, their papers decorated with stars and stickers and stamps that said, “Excellent Work!” and “I Knew You Could Do It.”
“What are we looking for?” he asked. “Besides rainbows and unicorns?”
“I’m not sure.”
Jerry looked in the mini-fridge. “Here’s some deadly yogurt and a caffeine free Pepsi.”
“Mrs. Dorman’s, I bet.”
“Oh, hello,” said a cheerful voice.
Jerry and I turned to see Norma Olsen enter with her arms full of bright yellow and orange artificial leaves and pumpkins. The fact that we had just been poking around in her refrigerator didn’t seem to bother her.
“I’m so glad you stopped by,” she said. “I found some more of Amelia’s things way back in the storage closet.”
“The room looks wonderful,” I said. “I’m sure the kids enjoy it.”
She put the leaves and pumpkins on the nearest desk. “I know they do. The only thing Amelia had on the wall was the periodic table of the elements. That’s something they should know, but it’s not very entertaining. I found these great leaves at the Bargain Hut. I want the room to be like a forest in the fall.” She went to the closet at the back of the classroom. “Let me get those things for you. Did you need to see me about something?”
“No, we’re just looking around. I’m trying to get a sense of what might have happened to Amelia.”
“If you ask me, it was all the stress she put on herself. You can’t be that unhappy and not have some medical issues. Here we are.” She pulled a bag out of the closet. “I don’t know how helpful these things will be, but I don’t want cigarettes in my classroom.”
I was hoping for a spectacular clue. All I got were two more packs of cigarettes, a lighter, a travel pack of Kleenex, and a crumpled piece of paper with the initials “B.F.” written on it.
“‘Best Friends,’” Jerry said. “She liked you better than you thought, Norma.”
She didn’t appreciate his joke. “I’m sure it means something else, something mean and spiteful.”
“‘Butt-Face,’ perhaps?”
I thought we’d better go before Jerry got more creative. “Thanks, Norma. You never know what might be useful.”
She turned her smile back on high beam. “You let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
When we were in the hallway, I said, “Let’s check out the art room.”
In art room, I paused before a display of the students’ work. They’d done a good job on the still life and on their drawings of faces. I could see some real talent here.
Jerry came and stood beside me. “If this private investigator job doesn’t work out, you could become a teacher.”
“No, thanks. That takes far more patience than I’ll ever possess.”
“These pictures look good, though. I can see the Maclin influence.”
We opened all the cabinets and drawers. They were filled with all sizes of colored paper, tape, scissors, and bottles of glue. A cabinet with long narrow shelves held art prints.
Jerry opened a door at the back of the room. “What’s this?”
“That’s a kiln for pottery and clay projects.”
“Pretty nifty. Hang on.”
“What?”
“Come look at this.”
Crumpled up in the trash can next to the kiln were some charred scraps of blue cloth. Jerry handed them to me and then pulled out what looked like the rim of a baseball cap. He turned to me, eyes wide. “Rachel hit me from behind and stole the cards?”
I hadn’t thought of it before, but Rachel was a small, slim woman who could be mistaken for a teenager, especially if she hid her hair under a baseball cap. “That’s what it looks like. And then she burned the evidence—most of it.” I took the scraps and put them in my pocket.
Jerry closed the door to the kiln. “Anything in her desk?”
“The usual stuff, paper clips, rubber bands.” I paused. On the desk was a framed photograph of Bronwen and Magwen. Stuck in the picture frame was a card that read Diabetes Clinic. Free Seminars. Get Advice From the Experts. “Jerry, take a look at this.”
He took the card and examined it. “So maybe Rachel’s diabetic.”
“Or one of the girls is.” I put the card back in the frame. I sat down on one of the tables and stared at the rows of still life pictures. “Let’s suppose Rachel’s the killer. She knows Amelia goes for a smoke at one thirty. She fills one of her insulin syringes with potassium she got from Brenda Mullins, who got it from her boyfriend, lords knows why.”
“She’s so daffy, Rachel could’ve told her any sort of story.”
“Right. Rachel comes in behind Amelia and injects the potassium. Amelia falls, and while Jacey races to call Murphy, Rachel doesn’t perform CPR. Amelia dies. Rachel must’ve known about the riddle.” I thought of something Ronald Brown had told me. He’d overheard Amelia tell Rachel, “I know all about it.” All about what? And Rachel had replied, “You’re just saying that so you’ll get the money.” I thought they’d been talking about the art grant. Maybe they’d been talking about the riddle.”
“But did Rachel have time to do this?”
“She says she went to the office with a student to deliver some art work. Then she stopped by the loading dock to speak with Jacey.”
“Could she have had a needle with her?”
I tried to recall the day of the incident. “A little girl stopped by the art room. Rachel left with her. She was carrying a big stack of art work. I suppose she could’ve had the syringe in her pocket.”
“You remember which little girl it was?”
“Her name was Jennifer, but that’s not going to be much help. I’ve noticed there are a lot of Jennifers in this school.”
“Yo! Miz Fairweather!” Ronald Brown beamed from the door. “What are you doing here? Looking for clues?”
“Yes, I am,” I said. “What are you doing here this late?”
He shrugged. “I had to stay after school. Timothy and me got into a fight.” He stood aside so we could see Timothy, a thin weedy-looking boy who didn’t look like the type to cause trouble. He peered at me like a little owl behind his thick round glasses.
“Yo
u were right, Ron. She’s a babe.”
Ronald elbowed him. “Dude. That’s her husband standing right there.”
“It’s okay,” Jerry said. “She is a babe.”
“Ronald, maybe you can help me,” I said. “You remember the other day when a student named Jennifer came by the art room, and Mrs. Sigmon left to help her carry some art work to the office? Do you know Jennifer?”
Ronald made a gagging sound. “Jennifer Elson, teacher’s pet. She gets to do everything, and most times, she doesn’t even have to have a hall pass.”
Timothy sniggered. “She dropped that whole pile of pictures, though. Splat! I busted a gut watching.”
“Where did this happen?” I asked.
“In the office. I was there because I left my homework at home.”
“For the fiftieth time,” Ronald said.
“Hey, it’s homework, isn’t it? Why can’t it be at home?”
“Guys,” I said. “Timothy, this is important. Was Mrs. Sigmon with Jennifer?”
“No, I didn’t see her, just Jennifer, trying to win more brownie points. She thinks she’s so smart.”
If Rachel gave Jennifer all the pictures and told her to go on to the office by herself, then Rachel would have had more time—if she was responsible for Amelia’s death. But this still didn’t explain why Rachel would feel entitled to any of the Fenton fortune. Then again, Misty May had explained that whoever showed up with the correct key would get the prize money.
“Thanks,” I told the boys.
“Did we solve the crime?” Ronald asked.
“Not yet.”
Timothy’s eyes gleamed. “Got any suspects? I hope it’s Mrs. Sigmon.”
“I hope it’s her snotty daughters, Bran and Mud,” Ronald said. “I wasn’t invited to Bran’s birthday party because my dad’s not rich enough. Timothy’s dad owns a bank, so he got to go.”
“Yeah, and she had all these Bufo cards, even some of the new ones, too. I don’t know how she got them before anybody else did.”
“They were lousy, though. You said so.”
“That’s ‘cause they’re so lame. I’m collecting Wrath cards now. I’ve got Thief of Wrath, Cloud of Wrath, Castle of Wrath. That’s the hardest one to find.”
Thad Murphy’s voice sounded over the PA system. “Ronald Brown and Timothy Ashboro, your rides are waiting.”