Vibrations, Grace thought. How ridiculous. But still, she smiled. “What did you think of Mr. Hardy? Such a sad situation.”
She lifted an eyebrow, giving Grace a rather quizzical look. “Is this an interrogation, then? I had nothing to do with the death of Mr. Hardy. I would say he was the most wonderful man. He took me under his wing, giving me advice that added positively to my daily employment. The principal at my last school—not so much.”
“Where was that?”
Ellen Terry looked up at her as if to measure Grace’s intent. She paused for a moment, considering her reply. “I arrived from a small town in Nebraska, one of those dreary outposts where you could blink once and be through the outskirts of civilization. One stoplight.” She shook her head slowly.
Grace wondered, from Terry’s voice, if this was some kind of canned speech.
“The establishment where I taught was filled with young women who did not know a participle from a pronoun. Silly, giggling little nothings, they were.”
“And now you’re teaching in a building that has seen two deaths. I was shocked and so sorry to see John Hardy was murdered,” said Grace. “He was a good man. Then to add Evan Harrington…I can’t understand what’s going on at that building.”
Terry worried some knots in the fringe of her scarf, not looking up at Grace. “I didn’t really know the chemistry teacher. Frankly, our paths would cross occasionally in the faculty lounge, but I spent little time there. Such stupidity when you have people together with a chance to complain bitterly of their plight. Best to stay away. I do hear, however, he had stores of chemicals in his laboratory, and I believe the constabulary would consider those highly suspicious. I had also heard he was not in the good graces of Mr. Hardy.”
Grace thought about replying to that rumor, but decided instead to change the subject. She picked up her pen and said, “Well, I know Ginger is excited about your play, but I keep wondering if it’s appropriate after the recent deaths.”
Now Terry drew herself up, looking Grace dead in the eyes. “Appropriate? Evan Harrington said the same thing after Mr. Hardy died. What did he know? What does a chemistry teacher know about the drama? It is patently true that no publicity is bad publicity, in which case, the play will be the thing! Two weeks. We are counting on a large crowd, but I still believe luck is made, not hoped for. This means we need to place an advertisement in your somewhat daily tabloid to spread the word near and far.”
“That I can do,” said Grace, trying not to wince at the woman’s grammar. She took down the information Terry gave her, along with the dates of the ad publication. “I know Ginger is so excited, so happy about this play.”
“Ah, yes. I gave her a plum part, the dramatic Endurance debut of Abby Brewster, poisoner extraordinaire. She should have fun with it. I keep telling her to have fun. It’s not every day you can poison several people just playing pretend.” Then she smiled broadly.
“I suppose you’re right,” said Grace, thinking about John Hardy’s death and how inappropriate the woman’s remark was. She handed the pen to Ms. Terry so she could sign.
After scribbling an illegible name, the woman dragged herself out of the chair while digging in the huge pocket of her black coat to find something. “My coat is like my mind, presently…a bit crowded, unorganized, but dependable. Here, I found them.” She pulled out her hand, along with several other objects that fell to the floor, and handed Grace two tickets. “These are for you.”
Disorganized, thought Grace. “Thank you. I’ll be sure to come. I promised Ginger I would.”
“Excellent. I think you will find our little production quite…professional.” She reached down, with some effort, picking up the objects that had fallen from her coat pocket, and then stood up.
She smiled with a look that made Grace uncomfortable. Suddenly, she was glad Rick Enslow was in the building.
After Ellen Terry departed, Grace went back to her writing. But she couldn’t focus any more now than when she first came into the office. With her elbow on the desk, she rested her chin on her hand. What an unorthodox person Ellen Terry was, but after all, maybe she was one of those creative geniuses who was a bit odd. She must remember to ask Ginger about her. Then, with her typical Grace Kimball moral filter, she scolded herself. Stop being so judgmental. Maybe the high school kids do love her. She looked down at her computer screen, but her focus wandered from the feed store article to Evan Harrington.
Chapter Thirteen
Sitting in the living room in her favorite comfy armchair, blanket over her lap, with a cup of steaming green tea, Grace stared out the window, reviewing her day. She was still thinking about her visit from Ellen Terry long after dinner that evening. It was all very odd.
Even so, TJ didn’t mention Terry as one of the teachers whose folder was flagged in John Hardy’s office. Grace found that unusual, knowing John Hardy. He was a stickler for order rather than chaos, respect rather than incivility, and professionalism rather than shoddiness. Ellen Terry seemed to have a life with the latter qualities if Grace were to judge from her first impression. But perhaps she was being unfair. She had never seen her teach in a classroom.
Her mind wandered to Evan Harrington. Why would he get a bad review from John Hardy? It didn’t make any sense. She must remember to mention it to TJ Sweeney. Thinking about her friend, Grace realized TJ hadn’t said anything about either murder case lately. She had, however, taken the time to chastise Grace for going in the building tomorrow to watch Evan Harrington’s classes. Well, she would show TJ. The murders always occurred at night or on the weekend when the murderer could get safely away. That, of course, assumes one person did both murders. Grace figured she would be safe on a Tuesday in broad daylight. Wouldn’t she?
As if TJ knew her thoughts, Grace’s phone played “Wanted Dead or Alive.” She reached over on the table and unplugged it from its charging cord.
“Hi, TJ. I was just thinking about you.”
“Kind thoughts, I’m sure, after I yelled at you.”
“You know it, my friend. I realize you’re only looking out for me. Besides, you’re under a lot of pressure at work. What’s up?”
“Working on the murders. Got some extra help coming in tomorrow from Woodbury. You may even see me in the building. I’ll be the one lending an air of authority and gravitas to these murder cases we still haven’t solved.”
“Gravitas? I’m impressed.”
“Trying to show you I’m not as illiterate as you think, Grace. But I do notice, since writing police reports, that I am losing words. Must be because I have no time whatsoever to read these days. And yes, I remember, in the olden days when I was in your class, you always preached that reading would expand my vocabulary. You didn’t explain what to do about getting an education and a job, leaving no time to read.”
“That’s a ‘you’ problem,” Grace said, laughing.
TJ’s voice paused, and then Grace could hear her sigh.
“So,” said Grace, trying to make her voice sound encouraging. “Latest developments?”
“Things are…moving along. The autopsy on Evan Harrington showed he died of a cervical fracture, not unexpected after seeing the scene. The video from the hallway camera makes it unclear whether the killer was male or female. The arms were covered and the hands were gloved.” She paused a minute as if thinking about that last statement. “Then I have the updates on John Hardy. Unfortunately, the tox screen on Hardy won’t be back for two more weeks. That’s how jammed up the lab is. We’re proceeding with the theory he was poisoned somehow. The weird thing is the poison was not in the coffee cup with Harrington’s fingerprints on it. Of course, someone could have moved the cup there from the teacher’s lounge any time. That makes more sense than to leave it at a murder scene without poison. Finally, we have a time of death on John Hardy: between eleven in the morning and one or two. That doesn’t leave many people in the building. However, Liz Hardy was there in the time frame.”
“Oh. Do you
know why she was there on Sunday?”
“She says to have it out with Hardy about his affair. Her visit fits in the time frame of his murder.”
“And who else?”
“Marilyn Atkins. She hadn’t left yet.”
“Oh, yes…Marilyn.”
“Grace, I may as well tell you what everyone else seems to know. Marilyn and John Hardy were having an affair. As a matter of interesting timing, we know he called it off the Friday before the murder.”
Grace almost dropped her phone. “What? I can’t believe it.”
“That’s why I am going to start calling you ‘Pollyanna.’ I have it on good information that Marilyn and John Hardy were having a fling. It also appears her husband and his wife had just become aware of it. Terrible timing.”
Grace swallowed.
“Grace? You still there?”
“Yes, TJ.”
“I’m sorry. I know it’s always a shock when you learn some information that rocks your world. I don’t remember the two of you being exactly chummy.”
“Marilyn and I didn’t always agree on a lot of policy issues, and this led to heated debates in the department meetings. She has a hard edge on her…brittle.”
“The second set of prints on the vase in Hardy’s office was hers.”
Grace considered what she’d seen of Marilyn in the recent past. At both the faculty meeting and at the funeral, her eyes were red-rimmed, and Grace thought it looked like she hadn’t slept in days. At Hardy’s funeral, Grace expected to see Marilyn’s husband, Seth, but now she recalled he wasn’t there, and she had thought it odd at the time, but figured they had some explanation. Now she knew why.
“What can you tell me about Ms. Atkins?”
Grace thought quickly about how she might describe Marilyn without her own prejudices filtering her words. “Marilyn is probably in her late thirties, has no children, and is married to Seth, who is a pharmaceutical salesman. She’s a strong teacher, really drives the kids hard, and spends a huge number of hours at school grading on the weekends.”
“So why do I detect a little reluctance in your voice?”
“We disagreed a lot about school issues. I felt sorry for her at times. Her husband wouldn’t be easy to live with.”
“Why?”
“Alcohol. Sometimes I think that’s why she’s in the building so much—to get away.”
“Is he abusive?”
“I don’t know her well enough to say.”
“What do the kids think of her?” asked TJ.
“The really smart ones mostly like her because she pushes so hard. She came up through the school of hard knocks, a past she often mentions. Sometimes I think she resents kids who come from—shall we say more ‘privileged’ backgrounds. She was a favorite until Evan Harrington came along and stole their hearts. Kids can be fickle. Teaching isn’t about popularity.”
“This husband Seth. Do you think he might be angry enough to kill John Hardy, especially if he’s been drinking?”
“Again, I don’t know.”
“Sounds like a couple I should interview.”
“Just don’t cross her,” said Grace, putting some amusement in her tone.
“I’ll tell her I came up poor and aced your Shakespeare exam.”
They both laughed because Grace’s Shakespeare exam used to divide the brilliant from the smart.
TJ paused a moment. “I’ve decided I’m over being ticked about you going into the high school. Besides, you might hear interesting gossip in the faculty lounge, something I wouldn’t learn because everyone would shut up fast if I walked in.”
Grace took a deep breath, thinking how she wanted to phrase her reply. “TJ, this is all hitting a little too close to home. These are people I know, or thought I knew, and no one appears to be as he or she seems.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “The principal whom I believed to be a morally upright man was actually having an adulterous affair and he was murdered. Evan Harrington, whom I thought was a great teacher, was evaluated as bad and murdered. Then we have huge changes in the way teachers are evaluated. What has happened, TJ? Everything is upside down, and I’ve been gone not quite a year.”
“That was a lot of ‘whoms,’ Grace.” TJ’s voice softened. “I don’t think everything has changed, but I can see how this is an almost endless series of changes in the life you thought you knew. You are undoubtedly feeling this is like an avalanche of dominoes falling. Some of these events were caused by other situations, and unexpected death often makes the big picture appear uncertain. You’ve told me yourself everything always changes in education, especially since the laws are ever-changing, and the legislature is always upsetting the whole system. Remember? That was the Grace I remembered practically swearing at all of this and saying, ‘Why can’t they leave me alone and just let me teach?’ It will come back to stasis again. You’ll see.”
“Just the fact that you are trying to impress me with your big words is helpful, TJ. It seems like stasis.” She found herself smiling, despite her frustration. “Tomorrow when I go to the high school, I’ll look for things that are the same. Maybe I’m only focusing on the bad.”
“I also think you should watch for odd stuff, stuff which is out of the norm.”
Grace giggled. “Like Ellen Terry?”
“She’s out of the norm all right, all the time. Yeah, look for anything that doesn’t seem quite right.”
“I can do that, TJ. Thanks. I’m going to lay out my teaching clothes, take a shower, and try to dream happy dreams.”
“Sounds like a plan. I may run into you tomorrow, but, of course, you know I’m going to say, ‘watch your back.’ ”
“Absolutely. I will. I promise. Thanks, TJ. You’ve made me feel a little better.”
“We aim to serve. Good night, Grace. Check your door locks.”
Grace tapped off her cell phone and laughed at TJ’s typical comment about door-locking. Then she began picking up piles of clothes, magazines, and other items which had accumulated during the day. On the way upstairs to take a shower, she thought John Hardy was really stupid. Grace shook her head, remembering the old adage that you should never sleep with someone who has less to lose than you. In a conservative town like Endurance, Hardy put his entire career on the line. And, worse still, Liz Hardy was not a forgiving woman.
The water and lather felt so good in the shower that she stayed an extra-long time, feeling its soothing warmth, trying to wash away all the negative events that had happened lately in Endurance. She laid out a blouse, sweater, and skirt to wear to school. It seemed like old times—so comforting. Her clock said it was eleven when she climbed into bed, but she realized she needed to go back downstairs, take a pill, and bring a glass of water up to bed. Must have had too much on my mind, she thought.
As she left the kitchen, Grace noticed the landline answering machine was blinking. At this time of night? Someone must have called when she was in the shower. She punched the button and heard, at first, a silence. Then Jeff Maitlin’s voice, faltering, came on the machine.
“Grace…I know it’s late. I’m—I’m sorry I’m calling so late.” Then he paused, and when his voice began again, he was a little surer of himself. “I know, I know, you’ve been trying to reach me and left messages. I don’t know what to say about that. I didn’t want…I mean…I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I just didn’t know what to say, Grace. Please, believe me. Things here—well, they’re a lot worse than I thought. Sometimes when you learn the truth about the past you thought was over and done with, it hurts more than you could ever imagine. Remember the old saying about ‘the truth will set you free’? Well, it isn’t true. It only makes you realize your life has been a lie, your past has been a lie, and you sure aren’t worthy of starting over again, nor are you capable of having the life you thought you deserved. I found out…information, Grace. Some terrible things…” Here Grace heard his voice falter, as if he were trying to keep his composure.
Silence briefly. She list
ened, biting the knuckles of her hand. Then his voice began again. “I’ve made a decision, Grace. I’m having work stopped on the house. I’ll figure out what to do about all of that, or my lawyer will. I thought I could have what I wanted: you and the house and a life in a small town where people know who you are and respect you. It can’t happen now. It…can’t. I’m sorry, Grace. I don’t know what else to say. I don’t want to hurt you.” Then it was silent again.
Grace held her breath, tears streaming down her face.
His voice paused and she thought she heard a tiny sob. Then he seemed to get himself back together.
“Grace, I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I’m not coming back to Endurance. Live your life. Love someone who will make you happy.”
Then she heard a click as the machine stopped.
Chapter Fourteen
Grace glanced at the wall clock as she sat in Evan Harrington’s late-morning class. She studied the tops of the heads of twenty students who were either reading or writing. The warm familiarity of being at the teacher’s desk swept over her as she watched the students work. Earlier this morning, each class had been perfectly quiet, working, and cooperative. Shocking! She suppressed a giggle. Perhaps it was because of their teacher’s unexpected death. Two deaths to deal with over a short period of time—that’s a heavy load to process when you’re a teenager. She’d only been gone a year, so she knew quite a few of the students. They were thrilled to see her when they came into the room each hour, as if a familiar face helped their shock and sorrow. After a few preliminaries, they got down to work.
She kept her fingers on her laptop keys and every so often she typed a paragraph or two, using her notes about her most recent historical column. But then her mind would drift back to last night; she would see herself replaying Jeff’s message over and over again. The demons from his past were too deep, too dark, and too heavy for him to escape. Perhaps he has too much pride, she thought. Doesn’t he know it doesn’t matter who his parents were, or where he came from, or who his family was in the past? She only cared about him today, and she knew what kind of man he was. Grace realized he had no idea she even knew about the death of his parents.
Death Takes No Bribes: An Endurance Mystery (Endurance Mysteries Book 3) Page 11