by Kate Bell
“Yeah, that was during a Christmas party one year. You can leave those. They hold memories for people here.”
I wondered if Janice was in those pictures, but I couldn’t ask in front of Richard. Alec would tell me later. I wondered how Iris felt about having to work with her husband’s lover. I know how I would feel, and it wasn’t warm and fuzzy.
Richard pulled open the top drawer of her desk and pulled out a plastic world globe and began sobbing quietly. I looked at Alec, who gave me a terrified look. Men were terrible at handling other men’s emotions. I went to him and squeezed his shoulder.
“You don’t have to do this, Richard. Let Alec and I pack things up. You go on home and we’ll bring them by your house,” I said.
He shook his head. “You don’t know what to pack,” he sobbed.
“If we pack things you don’t want, we’ll bring them back here for you. I promise we won’t leave anything behind that looks even the least bit important.”
He shook his head. “I just can’t believe it. Who would do something like this?” he looked up into my eyes and at the moment I wished more than anything that I could give him an answer.
“I don’t know. I’m so sorry,” I said. I felt my chest tighten and tears sprang to my eyes. I blinked them back. Richard didn’t need me breaking down in front of him and Alec might freak if he had to deal with both of us crying.
“It doesn’t make any sense,” he said. “Everyone liked Iris.”
“No, it doesn’t. I really wish you’d let us handle this for you. It might be easier for you to look through these things by yourself,” I said gently.
I grabbed a couple of tissues from the box on Iris’s desk and handed them to him.
“Maybe you’re right,” he said, taking the tissues from me. He slowly stood up from the chair. “I’m sorry to do this to you.”
“It’s no problem,” I said. I desperately wanted to hug him, but it seemed inappropriate. I didn’t know him.
But maybe I could be the official hugger that went along with Alec on investigations. I glanced at Alec who had his nose to a bulletin board. I doubted he would care for that. I turned back to Richard. “You get home and get some rest and we’ll bring you Iris’s things.”
He nodded. “Okay, thank you. I can’t thank you two enough, really.”
“No thanks needed,” I said and walked him to the door. He left without looking back and I closed the door behind him.
“That is so sad,” I said.
Alec nodded, having taken the seat that Richard had vacated. I picked up one of the student seats and sat it next to him as he pulled open a drawer. Alec sorted through it, but it only held school supplies.
“So, with Janice right down the hall, what are the chances he’s going to stop off and say hello?” Alec asked in a lowered tone.
I gasped. “Do you think?”
“Well, he’s free now,” he said.
“That’s so rude,” I said in disbelief.
He shrugged. “Maybe so. And he could be perfectly innocent, but it is convenient.”
“Should I go peek and see if he stopped by her classroom?” I asked.
“No, it would be bad if you got caught.”
“Between Richard, Janice, and Iris’s mother, who do you think is most likely?” I asked him, while searching a small side drawer.
He grinned. “I think it’s far too early to know. We don’t even know how she died yet. But if I had to make a guess, I’m going with her mother.”
“What? Why? That doesn’t make sense,” I said.
“Are you still hung up on thinking a mother wouldn’t murder her own child? That’s been proven to be wrong over and over,” he said, pulling out a book.
“What’s that?” I asked. “And yes, I’m going with my own theory that a mother wouldn’t kill her own children, at least not in most cases. Those times when it has happened, well, those are just freak women that never should have had children.”
“I agree on that point,” he said, flipping pages in the book. “This appears to be a journal.”
“Really? Why would she keep it here?” I asked. “Maybe she didn’t want Richard to find it?”
There had to be something juicy in it, otherwise why would it be here at school?
“I doubt it. It looks like she kept a journal of her day. She’s talking about the kids and what she taught and also some problem behaviors in a couple of the kids,” he said, and turned the page.
I sighed. “I guess that makes sense. This desk doesn’t lock and it would be right there for anyone to read.”
He looked up at me. “And what is your theory?”
“I honestly don’t know. I don’t want to think either Richard or Janice are involved. They don’t seem the type,” I said, pulling out a bead bracelet. “This is cute.” It had beads and crystals on it, but it was obviously not expensive.
“It is,” he said absently.
“Did you ever run across a murderer that seemed completely innocent, but then you found out they were guilty?” I asked him. “I mean, no negative feelings about them at all? Not even a hint?”
He chuckled. “That happens more often that you’d think. Although most people do give themselves away eventually. But it happens. And there’s one thing you don’t seem to have thought about.”
“What?” I asked. I had no idea what he was talking about. I thought I was becoming a very good detective.
“Those tears from Richard could be tears of remorse. Maybe he’s grieving the fact that he couldn’t control himself in the heat of an argument. Maybe he did kill her and feels guilty.”
I gasped. He was right, I hadn’t thought of that. “Do you think that’s it?”
He shrugged. “I have no idea. We have a lot more investigating to do.”
“I want you to admit something,” I said.
He looked at me. What?”
“That you love having me along for investigations.”
He tipped his head back and laughed a lot harder than he should have.
“What is so funny?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.
“You. You’re so funny,” he said, returning to reading the journal.
“Excuse me, mister. I am not funny. I’m being serious.”
“Yeah, I know. That’s what makes it even funnier,” he said with a smirk.
I breathed out hard. Some people.
Chapter Eight
It took us just over an hour to pack up everything that looked like it might have some sentimental value to Richard, including the journal. I had taken the liberty of reading a few entries and was touched by her care for her students. I thought it would make Richard happy to be able to read through it and remember how sweet Iris had been. Sadly, we hadn’t found anything that would be of use to us in the investigation into Iris’s death. I had really hoped there would be something.
We put the lids on the boxes and Alec put the fern she had had on her desk on top of one of the boxes and picked it up. The door swung open and a young man with dark rimmed glasses stopped in his tracks and stared at us. He held a bouquet of red roses in his hand and his black hair was slicked down.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t, uh, mean to disturb anyone,” he said looking at the floor.
“Oh, no problem,” I said and smiled at him. “We were just packing up Mrs. Rose’s personal belongings to take to her husband, Richard.”
Alec gave me a look and set the box and fern down on the desk. He strode over to the young man with his hand extended. “Alec Blanchard,” he said.
The young man gave him a deer-in-the-headlights look. He stood in front of Alec, not offering him his hand. Alec smiled bigger.
“And you are?” Alec asked, still extending his hand.
The young man rubbed his right hand on his coat and then stuck it out to shake Alec’s hand. “Uh, Josh. Josh, uh, Stine.” He looked away from Alec. He had a slight build, and his face was broken out in severe acne. I thought he must be around eighteen or
nineteen at the most.
“Did you know Mrs. Rose?” Alec asked him amiably.
Josh looked up at him. Alec was at least six inches taller than he was. His face turned red and he stammered. “Yes. I uh, she was, well, she was my—my teacher. Once. A long time ago,” he said, nodding his head, but not meeting Alec’s gaze.
“Really? So did Allie’s daughter, Jennifer,” Alec said, including me in the conversation.
I crossed the room and held my hand out to him. “I’m Allie McSwain. When was Mrs. Rose your teacher?”
“Oh, um, a long time ago,” he repeated and wiped his hand on his coat again and then shook my hand. His hand was slightly damp and his grip was weak.
“Did you know my daughter? You look like you might be about her age. Jennifer McSwain?” I asked him.
He looked at me and focused his eyes on me. “Yeah, I did. I mean, we weren’t friends or anything. But I went to school with her.”
I smiled at him, hoping to make him more comfortable. He seemed very nervous. His left hand squeezed the bouquet of roses.
“I thought you looked like you were about her age,” I said brightly. “I almost think I remember you from some school function. Did you sing in the choir?”
“What?” he asked, wide-eyed. “N-no—I don’t sing. I can’t sing.”
“Oh, okay, my mistake,” I said. “Did you bring the flowers for Mrs. Rose?”
He remembered the flowers when I mentioned them and he looked down, his jaw twitching. Did he know she was dead? He had to, didn’t he?
He finally nodded slowly. “Yes. I brought them for her.” He looked up at me. “I mean, I know she’s—she’s gone. But I brought them for her.”
I nodded sympathetically. “I’m so sorry. Jennifer was shocked, too. Mrs. Rose meant a lot to Jennifer. She must have meant a lot to you, too.”
His eyes filled with unshed tears. “She was the best teacher in the whole world. And she was pretty. She always encouraged me. And really, really nice. She was always nice to me.”
“It’s such a shame. I can’t think of another person less deserving of dying so young,” I said and glanced at Alec.
“Josh, when was the last time you talked to Mrs. Rose?” Alec asked lightly.
Josh turned toward him. “I guess a couple of weeks ago,” he said with a shrug.
“Oh, so you kept in contact with her after you left school?” he asked.
“Not exactly. But I moved back to town recently. I had gone to college in Houston, but uh, my mother, she got sick and needed my help,” he said evenly. “I stopped in to say hello to Mrs. Rose a couple of weeks ago. It was good to see her.”
“So you moved back to Sandy Harbor to help your mom?” I asked.
He nodded. “Only for a while. Until she gets to feeling better. I’m going to study and take classes online until next fall.”
He said the last part with a note of pride in his voice. He was a curious person and I racked my mind, trying to remember if Jennifer had ever mentioned him to me. I could have sworn I had seen him at some school function, but I was drawing a blank.
“Do you think someone is going to take over her class?” he asked.
“Oh, I would imagine. Or maybe they’ll split the kids up among the current teachers. I would imagine it takes a while to hire a new teacher,” I said.
“Split them up?” he said and pushed his glasses up on his nose. “That isn’t a good idea. Those kids need each other. Especially after losing Mrs. Rose.”
“Well, maybe they’ll hire a substitute and that way they can all stay together, right here in this classroom,” I suggested. I glanced at Alec who was watching Josh intently.
“That’s a good idea,” Josh said and he started walking slowly toward Iris’s desk. “She was the best teacher in the whole world.”
“We’ve heard the same thing from other people,” Alec said.
“Would you like a vase to put those flowers in?” I asked and moved over to the corner of the classroom. There was a cupboard and a sink there and I had seen a vase beneath the sink when we were packing. I pulled it out and showed it to him.
He almost smiled. “That would be nice.”
“Here, let me have them and I’ll take care of them for you,” I said, stepping toward him.
He looked at the flowers again and then handed them to me. I took them to the sink and carefully unwrapped them and arranged them in the vase.
“Josh, have you lived in Sandy Harbor all your life?” Alec asked pleasantly.
“Yes, I have. All my life. Except for when I moved to Houston for a little while.”
“Do I know your mom and dad?” I asked, turning the faucet on for the flowers.
“I doubt it. My mother doesn’t work and I have never met my father,” he said darkly.
“Oh, I see,” I said. I would have to ask Jennifer about him and his mother. He seemed nice enough, even if he was a little odd. “There, how does that look?” I asked holding the vase up for his inspection.
Josh beamed. “That looks really nice. You have a real talent there with flowers, Mrs. McSwain.”
I laughed. “I wouldn’t call it a talent, and you can call me Allie.”
He nodded. “I like this classroom. I remember it really well. I just wish she didn’t die.”
“I’m sure she was thrilled to see you again,” I said sympathetically. “You’re a good person for remembering her and wanting to catch up with her. I’m sure teachers love when that happens.”
“You think so?” he asked.
“I do,” I said and set the vase of flowers on Iris’s desk.
He looked at me, smiling. “Well, I better get going. My mom’s expecting me home soon. Thanks for helping with the flowers.”
“You’re welcome. And I’m sorry for your loss, Josh,” I said.
“Thanks,” he said and walked slowly toward the door. He looked over his shoulder before pushing the door open. “Thanks again.”
When the door swung closed, Alec looked at me. “You think Iris really was thrilled when kids turned back up?”
“Of course I do! Don’t you think it’s satisfying to see the kids you nurtured years ago, grow up and go to college? Look at him. He’s responsible enough to help his mom out and still keep up with his studies. That’s a fine young man right there.”
“But you’re going to ask Jennifer about him, aren’t you?” he asked picking up the box he had previously set down.
“Oh, you bet ya. I just know I’ve seen that kid somewhere, but I can’t remember where.”
He chuckled. “Come on, super sleuth. We gotta get a move on. Richard is waiting for this stuff.”
“That’s Ms. Super Sleuth to you, sir.”
Chapter Nine
I looked at Lucy, sitting next to me.
“What if she doesn’t like them?” I asked.
“What?” she asked, buckling her seat belt. “She’d be crazy not to. Who wouldn’t like whatever you baked? I mean, seriously. It doesn’t matter what it is, it’s delectable.”
“That’s a big word for you,” I said, starting the car, and giving her a big grin.
“Watch it, Red,” she said and elbowed me in the side.
I giggled. “What if it’s too much for me to do? I mean, I love baking, but what if it’s so much work that I can’t handle it? I can’t spend all my time in the kitchen. I have a life to live, too. Where will I find the time to spend with Alec?”
“Then don’t over promise. Negotiate. When you feel confident you can do what you’ve offered, and you feel you can do more, then do more. But not until then.”
“Right. You’re exactly right,” I said and pulled away.
“What’s the latest on Iris Rose?” she asked, flipping the visor down in front of her and checking her makeup.
“Well, let me update you on the way over,” I said.
We were headed to Henry’s Home Cooking Restaurant to speak to Cynthia Hoffer. I had heard nothing but good things about the chan
ges Cynthia had made down there since taking over after the death of her husband, Henry. I hoped she would take some of my desserts on consignment. She had nothing to lose if they didn’t sell and I knew they would sell.
I had brought iced oatmeal raisin cookies, apple pie, carrot cake, blueberry sour cream pie, and orange chocolate cheesecake. I packed each one carefully to keep them fresh and then put them into individual shopping bags to keep them from squishing one another.
When we got to the restaurant, we struggled to carry them into the inside, but we somehow managed it.
“Eileen, is Cynthia around?” I asked the waitress when she passed us.
She stopped and turned around. “Ayup, she’s in the office. You can go back, Allie. She don’t mind,” she said in between smacking her gum.
“Come on,” I said, leading Lucy back. No one knew it, but Lucy and I had broken into the restaurant one night, trying to look for clues to Henry Hoffer’s murder. We don’t normally resort to crime, but I was a suspect and no way was I taking the fall for the real murderer.
We passed the kitchen on our way back and the cook, Charles Allen, stopped chopping onions to look at me. I stopped in my tracks and narrowed my eyes at him. He had squealed on me and told Alec I had had an argument with Henry Hoffer the night before he was murdered. This was before Alec and I were dating, and I felt like I had been pushed up the list of suspects to the number one position because of Charles. I wasn’t over it yet. Someday I’d pay him back.
Charles shook his head at me and went back to chopping onions.
“Come on, Allie, these are getting heavy,” Lucy whined from behind me.
“Yeah, yeah,” I said and headed to the office. I knocked on the open door.
“Hi, Allie,” Cynthia said, looking up from her laptop. “This is a surprise.”
I smiled. Henry had still been using a paper ledger and it was nice to see Cynthia had made major progress into the twenty-first century.
“Hi, Cynthia. I know this is kind of a surprise, but I was wondering if you had time for a delicious snack? Maybe a couple?” I asked. I stepped into the office and set my bags on the desk. Lucy followed suit. The desk was a nice addition. Henry had attached a piece of plywood to the wall as a desk. I took this as a good sign that Cynthia wasn’t afraid to part with a little money and that was good news for me.