by Joan Hess
I froze—and my brain as well. I looked at the ceiling for inspiration. It was not the Sistine Chapel. “I wanted to borrow one of your teaching manuals so I’ll be ready for tutor training in August. I didn’t want to disturb you during your class.”
She nodded. “Let me see what I can find for you. You’re certainly more eager than most of our tutors. It’s a mess in here.”
I followed her into the room and glanced around. If this was a mess, my lovely library would qualify for a visit from FEMA. There were a couple of folders on her desk next to her cell phone, and a coffee cup. The bookshelf behind her desk was full but not overflowing onto the floor. Unlike Gregory, she did not utilize cardboard boxes for a filing system.
“I’m new to this, so I’d better start with the basics,” I said.
“Please sit down for a minute. We need to talk.” She went around her desk and settled into her upholstered office chair. I sat on a sofa that was too small for a romantic tryst unless Sonya and Rick were contortionists. “You seem to be determined that I have something to do with Ludmila’s death, even though I wasn’t here Monday night. What can I say or do to convince you otherwise? I was at home on my computer, grading tests. I did not leave the house.” She gave me an exasperated look.
“No, I don’t think you had anything to do with Ludmila’s death. The only reason I … ah, entered your house was to make sure you were okay. For all I knew at that time, Monday night you could have been here briefly to pick up a folder and been seen by the perpetrator.” Have I mentioned that I have an overactive imagination, along with a talent for improv? “As for the business yesterday, I was convinced that I was followed home by someone in a black car. I saw you speak to someone in a black car. When the police arrived, I mentioned it. That’s all.”
“I assume you know what I told them.”
“My husband is Deputy Chief Rosen, and he’s leading the investigation. Yes, he told me. It was just a pesky coincidence, and I apologize if it inconvenienced you.” I wasn’t sure why I was pleading my case, since I didn’t much care what she thought of me.
She looked at me for a long moment. “If you were intending to snoop through my files, you would have discovered that you need the key.”
I couldn’t admit that I was more curious about Sonya and Rick’s rendezvous. “Not at all,” I said earnestly. “I wanted to see if the perp could have hidden in here until everyone except Ludmila was gone. Do you keep your office door locked?”
“No, I keep my filing cabinet locked. It contains personal information about my online and private students. There are times when I need their Social Security and green card numbers to help them expedite paperwork. I have copies of birth certificates and visas. As far as I know, no one is a felon.”
“I understand why you’re concerned about their privacy. I’d better get back to desk duty before Keiko misses me. I don’t want to be fired on my third day.”
Nothing of significance happened for the next ninety minutes. I finished the crossword puzzle, answered the phone without panicking, and greeted students as they came in. Shortly before eleven o’clock, Caron and Inez arrived. I was thankful they were talking to each other, since I lacked energy for perpetual teenaged angst. I waved them over. “I love your hair, Inez,” I said.
“Thank you. My uncle Carson sends me twenty dollars every year for my birthday. I’ve been saving it for something special.”
I glanced at Caron, who’s never held on to a quarter for thirty seconds if there was a vending machine within sight. She looked exceedingly disgruntled. “Who are your students today?” I asked her.
“Just Yelena. I was supposed to have Ludmila, but that’s not going to happen. Have you figured out who did it?”
“The police are still investigating,” I said. “Are you two aware of the potluck tomorrow? Apparently, it’s a major deal.”
Caron shrugged. “Yeah, we’re going to go halves on a pizza. Are you going to make something disgusting?”
My darling daughter was not at her most charming. “Yes, dear,” I said sweetly. “I’m bringing chicken-fried snails and watermelon pie. Oh, look, it’s eleven. You’d better round up your students.”
She and Yelena disappeared into one cubicle, Inez and Zayha, her Egyptian student, into another. I was curious to know what had transpired between the girls. It seemed to have resulted in a cease-fire, but not a peace treaty. No one had warned me about the lethal summer before the senior year.
Gregory arrived, looking chipper. He acknowledged my presence with a wave and went into Keiko’s office. I resumed reading a magazine one of the students had left in the lounge. The entire issue was dedicated to exposing celebrity shenanigans. Since almost all of them were unfamiliar to me, I was not engrossed, which was for the best when Leslie’s friend Omario came through the front door. I gulped, then managed a civil expression and said, “Good morning. May I help you?”
At close range, he was far from menacing. His face was pudgy and wrinkled, and his lips were soft. He did not look as though he could hike the distance required to reach the apple orchard from a safe parking space. “Is Leslie available?” he asked with only a trace of an accent.
“She’s in her office. Would you like me to let her know you’re here?”
“You are Claire Malloy?”
I presumed the question was rhetorical. “And you are Omario. I saw you with Leslie yesterday afternoon.”
“I needed her advice about a complicated matter.”
We looked at each other for an uncomfortable moment. If it was my time to produce a witty response, he might be disappointed. I pictured him dressed in a long white robe and a headdress with a black band. Even in such garb, he would not make a dashing sheik. He might prefer me in a burka. I looked away when Jiang banged open the front door and advanced on my desk.
“I want to talk to Keiko,” he said loudly.
I blinked. “She’s in her office with Gregory. She should be free shortly.”
Omario blinked, too. “Perhaps we will meet again, Ms. Malloy.” He nodded and went in the direction of Leslie’s office.
Jiang did not move. “You know Miao?”
“Miss Parchester introduced us last week, and I’ve seen her several times. I was told she went back to China for her grandfather’s funeral.”
“I saw you go to her apartment yesterday. Why was that?”
I wasn’t sure I didn’t prefer Omario’s company. Jiang had a distinct redolence that suggested he had yet to be swayed by TV commercials for deodorants. I scooted my chair back before my eyes began to water. “I wasn’t looking for Miao. I went there to make sure that Luo was all right. She discovered Ludmila’s body Tuesday morning.”
“What did she say about Miao?”
“That Miao is in China,” I said.
“She is not there!” His face mottled with anger. “I e-mailed her brother, who has not heard from her. He said his grandfather is well.”
Although Omario was not a sheik in polyester garb, Jiang could have been a model for one of the terra-cotta warriors from the Qin Dynasty. I reminded myself that I wasn’t even the messenger. “Do you have any idea where she is?”
“Gregory is all the time bothering her. He asked her for a date. Yin chong! He is old enough to be her father. Still he keeps asking her and she says no, but she is worried. She is afraid he will not let her come here to learn better English.” He sucked in a breath. “Do you think he did something to hurt her?”
“I don’t know,” I said, bemused by this new information. “I don’t think so. Men get turned down for dates all the time, but they survive. Did she say something about him Monday night?”
“No, not about him. We had an argument, and she was angry at me.” His ferocity deflated, and he looked close to tears. “She is so beautiful, even when she is angry. I want us to get married now, not wait three more years for her to get degree. If we have a baby, we can stay in the United States and apply for citizenship. Miao says we must wait, t
hat she cannot have a baby while she is writing her dissertation. We have had this argument many times. The college has a place where people take care of babies. Our parents will help us pay rent, and I can find a job at night.”
“Maybe she was so angry at you that she doesn’t want to see you for a while. She told everyone that she was leaving so that you wouldn’t try to find her.”
“Then where is she?” he asked sadly.
I had a pretty good idea where she was, assuming she wasn’t allergic to cats, but it wasn’t my place to tell him. She had the right not to be bullied by him—or by Gregory. “Miao is most likely staying with a friend for a few days. Give her some time to cool off.”
“She is too hot?”
“Cool off from her anger, Jiang. Women are like that. She doesn’t seem like the type to punch you in the nose, so she retreated. I’m sure she’s fine.”
“Then she will still go to her classes. I will watch her building on the campus, and when she comes, we can talk again. Thank you, Ms. Malloy.”
“No,” I said hastily, “that’s exactly what you shouldn’t do. If she catches you spying on her, she’ll be really angry. You need to wait or you’ll make matters worse. She may be back here on Monday.”
He said something under his breath and went to the lounge. I kept an eye on him until he settled down to brood. My theory that Miao was at Miss Parchester’s house seemed more than plausible. Wily Miss Parchester had only said that Miao told her she was returning to China. I looked at the phone. Would Miss Parchester admit her complicity if I bluntly asked the pertinent question? I envisioned a conversation in which she evaded every accusation with a vague murmur and an invitation to tea. I couldn’t barge into her house like a thug. If I mentioned this to Peter, I would be told to run along and bake something for the potluck. Which was a whole ’nother problem. My version of macaroni and cheese came from a box. Neither Caron nor Peter would eat my meat loaf. I’d sworn off frying anything after I’d been dinged with a splatter of oil. I couldn’t hide behind another dish of coq au vin. I made a mental note to tackle the haute cuisine of my native country when I had some free time.
Gregory emerged from Keiko’s office and went straight to his own without giving me so much as a nod or a quick smile. I suspected Leslie had confided in Keiko, who’d confided in Gregory. I waited for the phone to ring so that Frances could tell me that I’d been booted off the board and was no longer welcome at the Literacy Council. I was now a pariah, a veritable redheaded stepchild. It was the time for decorum. I took the magazine back to the lounge, sat down at my desk, and began to straighten the paper clips.
Shortly before noon Keiko came out of her office. Ignoring me, she stuck a sign about the potluck on the bulletin board, consulted with a couple of students, and disappeared into the bookshelves. I tapped my finger on the desk. Her behavior was immature, as if we were back in junior high and I was the designated “mean girl.”
When she finally emerged, I said, “Will you need me this afternoon?”
“No, it is not so busy in the afternoons. Thank you for your help. I will try hard to find another volunteer so you will not have to do this. You are a very busy person with many better things to do.”
“Oh, no,” I said, “I enjoy meeting the students. Such a diverse group from so many different cultures and backgrounds. Please don’t worry about me.”
She was not prepared for my parry. “We need someone permanent. I would never ask that much of you. There is one thing that would be helpful. Ludmila’s bag and a bowl that she brought her dinner in are still in my office. The police do not want these things. Can you take them to her grandson?”
Throw me in that briar patch. I saw no reason to tell her that Bartok was coming the next day for the potluck. I much preferred having a legitimate reason to call on him. “Of course, Keiko, I’ll be happy to do that this afternoon. I’m sure he’ll be grateful to have his babcia’s personal items.”
A few minutes later Caron, Inez, and their students came out of the cubicles. I was still amazed by Inez’s transformation, but I knew better than to comment on it in Caron’s presence. “Would you two like to go out for lunch?” I asked.
“I have a session with Graciela,” Inez said.
“Caron and I don’t mind waiting for an hour.”
She blushed. “I have plans for this afternoon, but thank you, Ms. Malloy.”
“I don’t,” Caron said. “I don’t have any plans for the next three days. Joel gets home on Sunday night. I might as well go out to lunch with my mother.”
I bit back a tart response. “Don’t let me twist your arm, dear. I’m sure you can find someone more suitable to fill the void for the next three days. There’s not much to eat at home, but you can find something. There’s some brie, and maybe apples. Plenty of ice cream in the freezer. I need to go by the Book Depot anyway.”
“You can take me out for lunch,” she said.
Inez waggled her fingers and went to the lounge to seek her prey. Caron waited while I collected my purse and the list I’d made of those in the building Monday night. I contemplated telling Keiko that I was leaving, but decided she would figure it out when the phone rang and I failed to intercept the call.
Once we were outside, I looked around for a black car. Nothing in the parking lot or across the street qualified as such. I forced myself to relax. “Where would you like to eat?” I asked Caron as we walked to my car.
She shot me a sly smile. “How about that place by the old mill?”
It was the most expensive restaurant in Farberville. The lunch entrees cost more than dinner entrees at less pretentious places. “We may need a reservation.”
Her cell phone was whipped out of her purse, and her fingers darted across the tiny keypad. Within seconds, she said, “I made them for one o’clock. That means we have time to stop at the mall. I have absolutely nothing to wear when school starts. I’m going to be a senior, you know, and that means I have the responsibility to be a good role model for the pitiful freshmen girls. Got your credit card, Mother?”
I did, but it wasn’t burning any holes in my wallet. “Yes, dear.” As I drove toward the dreaded mall, I said, “What’s with you and Inez? I sensed hostility.”
“I am not hostile. I am very happy for her now that she doesn’t look like a loaf of day-old bread. In the last three days, she’s had three dates with different boys. It’s like she’s trying to prove something.” My darling daughter snorted. “Tonight she has a date with Toby Whitbream.”
11
“Inez has a date with Toby Whitbream?” I echoed. I would have added something pithy, but I was too astonished.
Caron sniffed. “It’s not much of a date, if you ask me. They’re going to Toby’s little brother’s baseball game. That’s not my idea of a good time. Inez gripes every time she has to go to her own brother’s games. She says the parents get all weird and scream at the coaches and the umpires. I’m sure this game won’t be any different, even if she’s sitting by the big-shot quarterback.”
I found a parking space at the mall. “From what you’ve told me I didn’t think she’d even spoken to him in the past. Now a date?”
“Inez is like the new girl in town. She’s been wearing skimpy tank tops, and she bought a bikini that wouldn’t cover up a squirrel. So she got contacts and highlights in her hair. So what?”
“Do I hear undertones of jealousy?”
She got out of the car. “I came to shop, not to mope.”
* * *
She wasn’t kidding. In less than forty-five minutes, she dragged me into every upscale store in the mall. My only assignment was to proffer my credit card and stash the receipts in case she changed her mind. We both carried bags back to my car and put them in the trunk. I was then told to drive to the restaurant, where I was allowed to pay for an elegant lunch comprising tall salads and artfully arranged bits of things. Even after dessert, which consisted of squiggles of mousse and a sculpted tuile, I was still hungry. Car
on’s car was at the Literacy Council. I parked there and waited until she put her booty in her trunk and drove away, then went inside. All was calm, all was bright. I knocked on Keiko’s door. Once I was given permission to enter, I did so and told her I was there to gather up Ludmila’s things.
Keiko grimly handed me a paper grocery bag that contained a notebook, a purse, and a plastic container. “Thank you very much for doing this, Ms. Marroy.”
“What happened to ‘Claire-san’?” I asked with what I hoped was a warm, reassuring smile.
“I am so busy trying to get everyone organized that I forgot, Claire-san. Please excuse me. I am in a bad mood today. Kazu’s tutor sent home a note yesterday that he was not respectful. My husband and I tried to talk to him, but he was rude to us as well. He will not be allowed to play video games for a week.”
“I can sympathize,” I said. “My daughter was grounded for a weekend after she convinced her friends that she was an alien and would beam them up if they didn’t obey her. She was in second grade at the time. She spent her incarceration building a spaceship out of Popsicle sticks and aluminum foil.”
Keiko giggled. “I am not the only parent with such problems.”
I hoped that I had patched things up between us. “I’m still planning to come in tomorrow so that I can share in the potluck.”
“It is always great fun. I am bringing sashimi made with tuna and mackerel. I hope you like it, Claire-san.” She bowed deeply.
I imitated her bow. “I know I will, Keiko-san. If you don’t need me to do anything else, I’ll drop off the bag at Bartek’s house.”
We parted on amiable terms. I put the bag in the backseat and headed for the road behind the stadium. This casual monthly potluck had become a demonic cloud above my head. Everything I thought of was ethnic. Spaghetti and tacos violated the spirit. Hamburgers originated in Hamburg, Germany; frankfurters in Frankfurt. French fries were out, as was a Greek salad with olives and feta. My recently acquired culinary skills were useless. Traditional American food. As I drove up the hillside, I promised myself that I would never stoop to a tuna-fish-and-noodle casserole, no matter how desperate I was at midnight. Presuming I found out how to make one.