Chapter Seven
Grace stopped in front of The Depot, a restaurant opened earlier in the winter by two of her former students, Camilla Sites and Abbey Parker. Amid much applause from the town, the women had started the restaurant, creating a pleasant aura for dining and inventing a railroad theme for their décor. Endurance had a long history with the railroad, and the brick building on South Main Street was the perfect place for them to exploit the town’s history while also preparing mouth-watering food. Grace stared at the oval-shaped, wooden sign with its old-fashioned gold letters on the wall beside the doorway. Then she broke into a huge smile as she thought of Camilla and Abbey. They were not the top students she’d ever had, but they both had large doses of determination.
They had added recessed lighting fixtures with huge pots of plants hanging from the ceiling, lighted by the new skylights. The interior was decorated in dark green with white contrasts highlighting unevenly faded red brick, some of it from the original depot, which had been built a hundred and fifty years ago. Grace and her friends agreed The Depot would be their spot for occasional lunches and coffee after basketball games.
She pushed open the door, hung up her coat, and walked over to a table where Deb O’Hara and Jill Cunningham were sitting.
Jill said, “It’s about time we managed to get together. February is early tax season at the accounting firm, so this may be the last time I see you for a while.” She sighed. “You know, I’ll be under huge stacks of papers for the next two and a half months.”
“I saw you run past the house this morning, all dressed up in your winter running gear. How do you manage to do it every single day?” Grace asked.
Jill shook her head slowly. “Self-preservation. Between taxes and food that goes right to my hips, I fight off the stress, as well as the calories, with my runs. You should try it, Grace.”
“Don’t think so. An occasional jog with TJ last summer convinced me I’d never be able to keep up a schedule. Breathing is important too.”
“By the way, Grace, we already ordered for you. Your favorite: A Train Wreck Burger and The Ties that Bind. I’ll help you with the ties—er, fries,” said Deb.
Grace rubbed her hands in anticipation. “It’s been ages since I’ve been out to eat with you guys. Sorry about TJ. She’s working day and night. Otherwise, I know she’d like to be here.”
“Yeah, I believe it,” said Deb. “The whole town is on edge about John Hardy’s murder.” She lowered her voice and added, “I’ve heard hints, here and there, that we’re going to see a public meeting pretty soon. Parents are worried about their kids. At least murder is a good reason to be a helicopter parent—”
“As opposed to—” said Jill.
“Oh, bringing milk and a birthday cake to school for their high school son’s birthday,” finished Grace, “or protesting some PE dress requirement because their kid is too lazy to change clothes. Frankly, my children would be totally embarrassed if I’d done any of the above back in the day.”
Jill looked around at the nearby tables, making sure no one was listening. “I heard John Hardy was found with a lampshade on his head.”
“Really?” Deb turned to Grace, her eyes opened wide. “Is that true?”
“How would I know?” Grace’s brain began to calculate how that piece of information got out. The killer? Del? One of the younger cops?
“And—” said Jill, “one of the college interns at the accounting firm said she heard that Hardy had on a radio playing ‘Creeping Death’ by Metallica.”
“Geez, this is just the kind of dumb thing which escalates all over town. I doubt any of it is true,” Grace said.
“Has TJ confirmed those details?” They both looked expectantly at Grace.
“No,” she said, hoping to protect her position as TJ’s sounding board. “She never tells me anything about cases.” She crossed her fingers on her lap, hoping to be forgiven for little lies. “Alex Reid is now in charge, well, nominally in charge at the school. In another week, the school will be run by the inmates with him nominally in charge.”
“I thought he was good with discipline,” Deb said.
“I think maybe he is,” Jill answered. “But how can he manage everything? After Deb was the secretary at the junior high with him, we know he can’t manage to keep anything in order.”
A waitress came up to them, unfolding a temporary food stand. Abbey Parker followed with a tray of dishes, wonderful food fumes trailing along beside her. “Hi, ladies. Good to see you back.”
“Looks like you have a full house, Abbey.” The blonde fireplug of an owner blew her hair out of her eyes, setting the tray on the food station.
“Yes, we’re doing quite well. Camilla hasn’t even had a reason to throw a fit lately. You know what happens when she gets frustrated, Ms. Kimball.”
Grace rolled her eyes and nodded. “Yes, I remember that. I get a phone call to come over and calm her down before she puts her fist through a wall.” She glanced around. “I must say bricks would be more challenging than drywall.”
Abbey laughed, setting plates of food on the table. “So, what’s the latest on the murder investigation? TJ got any leads?” asked Abbey. She leaned back on her heels, hands on her hips.
“Not that we know of,” Deb said. “She keeps information close. We haven’t seen her much, but I’m sure she’s working ridiculous hours.”
“Sounds like her,” Abbey said. “Well, anything else I can get for you?”
The three friends examined their plates. “No, I think we’re good,” Jill said. “Thanks, Abbey. I’m so happy to see all the business.”
“Boy, we are too. Well, enjoy!” She picked up the heavy tray, folded the serving station, and was about to go back to the kitchen door. Instead, she turned back and whispered to them, “Notice the merry widow over there?” She moved her head to her right and they followed her movement. Liz Hardy, dressed quite expensively, was sitting at a table with her lawyer, Simon Barclay.
“Hmm…,” said Deb. “She’s cut her mourning period rather short, as in two days.”
“He is a good catch,” said Jill. “Solid balance sheet. Probably owns half the town and single—”
“Sure, if you don’t mind two former wives and a solid prenup,” said Deb.
Grace watched Liz laugh at something the handsome Barclay had said and then speak earnestly to him, putting her hand over his on the table. “The times they are a-changing,” said Grace. “His great-grandfather oversaw Olivia Lockwood’s estate back in the late 1800s and into the next century. He, however, was known far and wide for his ethics.”
Abbey left and they turned back to the table. All three of them put their napkins on their laps and began to dig into the plates of food, oohing and aaahing. Loud laughter erupted from a table across the room. Grace looked up and recognized four teenagers who had graduated last year when Grace retired. Inseparable in high school, they all got a three-day suspension for turning John Hardy’s car upside down in the parking lot. They said it was just for a prank their senior year. TJ reported they’d camped out at Lake Simpson, gone fishing, and declared it was worth the three-day vacation “just to see Mr. Hardy’s face.” Now it appeared the four were still together.
When Jill and Deb came up for air, Grace asked, “What kind of community parent meeting did you hear about, Deb?”
Deb wiped her mouth with her napkin and set it back on her lap. “I’m surprised Lettie hasn’t mentioned it since she usually knows everything. It’s going the rounds that the high school parents are seriously worried about the safety of their kids in the building if we have a crazy killer running around. I can understand, and I’m thankful my kids are out and gone. As it is, our own children have called home several times to check on us, suggesting neither of us goes in the building. Word gets around fast, evidently all over the county.”
“Well, that’s a new one. Kids worrying about their parents being knocked off,” said Jill. “But we know you’ll still go to baske
tball games.”
“Sure. What do my kids know? Didn’t I raise them without one broken bone or serious accident?” She paused, setting her fork down. “Actually, I almost called TJ. Janice Tupper came into the Historical Society on Monday morning. Said she saw Evan Harrington’s car at the back of the high school Sunday afternoon…you know, she lives in one of those houses on the other side of the alley shared with the back of the school. Her location means she sees some really interesting events from her vantage point.”
“Such as?” asked Jill.
“Oh, kids making out behind the school, smoking pot. One time the Adderson boy practically undressed his girlfriend against the back wall before Janice marched over and told him he should be ashamed of himself.”
“Sounds like Janice,” Grace said, laughing. “I’m surprised she didn’t call their parents.”
“She did.”
“At least someone is keeping an eye on the community’s values,” Jill said primly.
“Ah, Jill,” said Deb, her voice lowered. “Didn’t you have a tussle or two out behind the building in your younger years?”
“I can assure you I did nothing of the kind,” Jill said, her face twisted into a slightly indignant rage.
“Oh, come on, you two,” Grace said. She wondered how she ever became friends with two people who were like apples and oranges. Deb could down six margaritas while dancing on the countertop at Patsy’s Pub. Grace had actually watched her. Then we have Jill: prim and proper accountant, daily runner, and woman of tremendous willpower. No smooching behind the school for her.
“So why is it such a big deal that Janice saw Evan’s car?” asked Jill. “He’s one of the favorite teachers, if what I hear is accurate.”
“It’s what he teaches,” Deb said, picking up another fry from Grace’s plate and popping it in her mouth.
“Chemistry? Why would that be a problem?”
“Word has it John Hardy was poisoned,” Deb said, lowering her voice again. “A chemist would know how to poison people; besides, if his car was there, he was on the spot when the murder took place.”
No one said a word after this proclamation.
Grace added, “I heard, via the grapevine, the kids are working on a play they’ll perform in a couple of weeks. That eccentric drama teacher, Ellen Terry, is directing it. You know, she’s the one I told you about who started teaching last fall. Very unusual woman.”
“You can say that again,” said Deb. “She put on a whacko play in the fall. John refuses to go with me anymore. She has a strange sense of humor.”
“I’ve heard the kids like her,” Grace said.
“According to you, Grace, they like the chemist who knows about poisons too,” remarked Jill. “What does it say for their ability to make good choices?”
“Oh, Jill, let loose a little,” said Deb. “The drama group is a great place for kids to go find themselves.”
“Are they lost?” Jill asked.
“All right, you two,” said Grace.
Jill shook her head. “Sorry, ladies. I’ve had too much work lately, too many things on my plate.” She turned to Deb, repeating, “I’m sorry.”
Deb said, “That’s fine. We understand. Would it help if I ordered a brownie and ice cream, forcing you to split it with me?”
“I’d have to slog an extra mile tomorrow, but it might be worth it.”
“So,” said Deb, “what play is the drama teacher doing?”
Grace looked at both and said, “Only a play Ellen Terry could pick, given the timing.”
“Well, give,” said Jill. “Our Town? Auntie Mame? The Man Who Came to Dinner?”
“None of the above,” Grace said. “Think about it. What would the most totally inappropriate standard high school play be, given the circumstances of last weekend?”
Silence around the table.
Then Jill said, “Arsenic and Old Lace. Please tell me it’s not.”
“Bingo!” said Grace.
Chapter Eight
After Jill and Deb left, Grace sat for a few moments, lost in thought, drinking her after-lunch coffee. Ellen Terry was hired at the last minute in the fall as a speech and drama teacher. Grace was aware she was a late, desperate hire. However, Grace knew John Hardy. He was a straight-arrow, follow-the-rules kind of person at work. Well, yes, Grace thought, he did have a sense of humor, but when it came to his job he was quite a serious man. He was a polar opposite to Ellen Terry, from what she’d heard of the drama teacher.
She drained the last of her coffee, reached down to grab her purse on the floor, and started toward the cash register. That was when she saw Bob Godina sitting at a table by himself, stirring a cup of coffee. Walking over to him, Grace pulled out a chair.
“May I join you?”
Bob looked up, smiled, and said, “Oh, Grace. Sure.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin, adding, “I’m not playing hooky. Honest. I had an appointment, but I don’t have to be back at school until two. It’s nice to see you. I miss you up at The Big House.”
“Me too,” said Grace. “Miss you all, that is. I was at the library meeting and saw how upset everyone was. I’m so sorry about John’s death. It hit a lot of people very hard, I’m sure.”
“True.” They were both silent a moment.
“How are things going on the second floor in the earth science classes? Good year? Great classes?” asked Grace.
“I’m doing fine, Grace. You know I only have this year and next until I retire like you. Got any advice?” He ran his fingers through his abundant silver hair, taking a deep breath.
“I think you have to keep busy and do something you love.”
“Like your newspaper job?”
“Oh, yes. It’s been a godsend. Otherwise, I’d be at home snapping at my sister-in-law.”
Bob laughed, and little crinkles appeared around his eyes.
“As it is, I’m watching the murder of John Hardy from afar and wondering what’s going on at that school I loved.”
He sighed deeply. “I wish I had been there Sunday. Maybe I could have stopped it.”
Grace lightly put her hand over Bob’s hand, resting on the table. “I’m sure it would have been impossible for you to do anything, no matter your good intentions. Besides, you might have ended up on the floor of the office, dead. Whoever did this was a malicious, inhumane killer.”
“I suppose you’re right,” he said, with deliberate slowness. “That was the day of the storm. Whoever killed John must have been someone from the outside. I can’t believe anyone I work with would have done such a terrible thing.” He thought for a moment. “He didn’t have enemies.”
“Let’s get off this morbid topic. How is your year going?”
“The students are wonderful.” His voice seemed lighter, and he sat up and looked at Grace, sharing a topic they both loved. “I have two sections of earth science that are the best I’ve had in years. The juniors are a strong class, highly competitive, so that makes it fun and much more interesting—as you know. The other classes are, well, not bad.”
“Great. I remember years like that.”
“Kind of makes up for some of the…other things.”
Grace put her purse down on the floor, motioning to Abbey to bring her another cup of coffee. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, I don’t want to sound like a Danny Downer,” said Bob. “The high school isn’t the same as it used to be, you know, when veteran teachers like us were there, and we didn’t have so many new people.”
“What’s the matter with the new people?”
Bob had Abbey refill his cup when she brought Grace’s coffee.
“Oh, just leave the pot, please, Abbey. I’ll probably be jittery and jumpy all afternoon after so much coffee.” Grace smiled and dumped in a little sugar, waiting for her colleague to continue.
Bob’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t know, Grace. It’s just lots of things. I don’t want to say these young, new teachers are alike—they’re not—but sometimes
I wonder about their lack of professionalism.”
“Really? Like what?”
“Well, here’s an example. I was sitting in the lounge at lunch and one of the new teachers was talking about her summer school class. She said she’d had to take a class to add some certification hours, so she picked a drama course thinking it would be easy. ‘You know, plays are much faster to read than novels.’ Honest, Grace. That’s exactly what she said.”
“Right.”
“Then she said she realized she’d made a horrible mistake when the professor came in the first day and said they were going to read fifteen plays. Her reaction was, ‘You have to be kidding. Fifteen? I’ve never read more than two plays in my entire life, if that.’ She went on to explain that she found study guides for several of the plays, and a book of play summaries and read those. She passed the class with a ‘C,’ and it was good enough for her. Grace, I was appalled. Here is a woman who is teaching students, but she herself is totally dishonest, not to mention lacking any intellectual curiosity. Her attitude shocked me. Where do these so-called ‘teachers’ come from, and how did they get through college classes, well, except by cheating?”
“Surely she’s an exception.”
“I’m not so sure, Grace. You and I are ‘old school.’ We believe in promoting intellectual curiosity, pushing students hard to do their best, and not simply giving them easy grades. That’s changing now. Sometimes I think these new teachers see teaching as a business, one where you don’t take any papers home at night, and you leave practically before the students. With that kind of attitude, so many kids fall through the cracks.”
They both drank their coffee, sitting for a moment in silence.
“I have a prep period with several people, one of them being Ellen Terry, the new drama teacher,” Bob said. “Thank goodness she doesn’t show up in the teacher’s lounge often because I can’t get anything done once she arrives. No one can. We just leave with various excuses at differing intervals. She’s loud and obnoxious. I can’t figure out how she ever became a teacher.
“Of course, the teenagers are always entertained by someone new, young, and interested in pleasing them and being liked. Ellen Terry asks too many obvious questions for a person who’s been teaching for a while. She’s seriously mixed up by the new evaluation process, but then, to be fair, a lot of us are.”
Death Takes No Bribes: An Endurance Mystery (Endurance Mysteries Book 3) Page 7