“Correct,” said TJ. “At the end of the school year, the real Ellen Terry disappeared.”
Grace’s face registered shock. “Did Amy Deffly tell you what happened to her?”
“Not yet. I imagine she’s dead. She had no siblings or parents, so no one really missed her except the school. And since she resigned by mail, even the principal wasn’t aware she had disappeared.”
“How did Amy-slash-Ellen survive financially?”
“Before Terry’s probable death, Amy Deffly had convinced her to sign for a joint savings and checking account. Ellen Terry’s checks were automatically deposited through last August.”
Grace sat back a moment, considering what she knew once the woman arrived in Endurance. “She must have received her last check in early August and looked for a school district that needed someone badly at the last minute. When Dawn Johnson asked for her credentials, she used the real Ellen Terry’s references, but added her own photograph.”
“If Johnson hadn’t been so busy, she wouldn’t have fallen through the cracks. The superintendent assumed her fingerprints were those of Ellen Terry. She forgot to have Terry re-printed.”
Grace let out a deep sigh. “Oh, TJ. Two murders of good people because of carelessness. If only she’d remembered to have her fingerprinted.”
“The world is a huge place, the population only growing, and people fall through the cracks all the time. You must remember Amy Deffly, aka Ellen Terry, created this eccentric personality so people cut her some slack. They figured she was a character and put her weird teaching questions down to that. What I didn’t tell you—because I’ve been too damn busy—is that Liz Hardy found a jump drive connected to her husband’s electronic reader. It had the real teacher evaluations, which he must have worked on at home.
“Amy was going to lose her job. John Hardy couldn’t tolerate her lapses in record keeping or grading. She missed deadlines continually for grading, and even when he got her grades they were so high parents weren’t complaining. In fact, when we looked at her current grade book, she had no grades. Zero.”
“Ginger Grant told me she hardly gave any grades, and she thought the test scores for the teacher evaluation were suspicious.”
“She was right. Besides the records, she hadn’t quite picked up on the knack of how to teach, so her instructional evaluation was negative. Hardy’s recommendation was to fire her, and he went over the reasons with her the week before his death. According to his notes, he was also going to contact her former school. That must have made her desperate. After Amy killed him, she changed the evaluations for both her and Evan Harrington, hoping to have us focus on him as a suspect.”
“Which would explain why Evan was shocked. It would be easy to get extra blank evaluation sheets. I saw a pile of them in the office.”
TJ shifted her arm a little, a pillow under it. “Ouch. This is going to take a while. I hate having only one side that works.”
“You’ll get better, TJ. Take it from me. Now I can see why Deffly did the play. She’d watched the real Ellen Terry direct it, so she could fake the play-directing. What she couldn’t fake was the teaching. When John Hardy decided to talk to her about it, she realized she would lose her job, and he’d alert her last school, possibly finding out she didn’t even look like the real Ellen Terry, and then she’d be in serious trouble. This meant she had to kill poor John.”
“That’s it.”
“But why Evan Harrington?”
“Now, he is a sad part of the story. She tried to blame him by putting the note on Hardy’s desk about wanting to talk to him on Monday. She switched the recommendations in both Hardy’s office and in Harrington’s office, which he didn’t keep locked. She used his key to get the poisons since he was often out of his room going various places, and gave the poisonous mixture to John in a cup of coffee she’d made for him with the excuse that she’d stopped in to talk with him about reconsidering her firing. She took away the poisoned canister and cup from his office.”
“But I’m still not sure why she killed Evan too.”
“He remembered.”
“He remembered what?” Grace asked.
“A conversation in the teacher’s lounge where Ellen Terry asked him about various kinds of poisons. At the time, everyone thought she was asking because of the play, but that conversation was where she found out Evan had poisons in his room. Evan remembered that conversation, but more than that, he noticed her hanging around in the science area on several occasions. Her actions were furtive, as if she were trying to hide her motives. One day she engaged him in conversation, but he found her reason for doing so rather strange. He mentioned it to Ginny Shadley, another science teacher Jake interviewed. What Evan didn’t know was that Deffly still had the research Ellen Terry had done on poisons, so she picked the combination that was the most lethal and the quickest. She actually sat there and watched John Hardy die.”
“Oh, TJ, how awful. How can a human being do such a horrible thing?” Grace shook her head. “I suppose then she had to kill Evan because he might remember her questions.”
“Yes. He must have indicated he remembered something and she picked up on it. You know, Amy Deffly wasn’t stupid. In fact, she was amazingly adept at reading people’s body language. She heard his conversation about meeting you because she was in the building that night, listening outside his door. We found Evan’s phone at her apartment. I have no idea why she kept it. Grace, your call was the last one on his phone. That was why, when the phone was missing, I was worried she’d come after you next.”
Grace took a deep breath and looked down at her hands. “So sad. He was such a good man, as was John.”
“True, Grace. Unfortunately, that’s how these things happen. Dangerous people slip through the cracks.”
“Did she explain how she got into the school when John…died?”
“Yes. It was quite premeditated. She took Evan’s coffee cup from the teacher’s lounge and Marilyn’s lampshade from her closet, another unlocked area. Figuring Evan wouldn’t check his poisons until spring, she stole those a week before she killed John Hardy. She had also sent an anonymous letter to Liz Hardy; she was covering her tracks, spreading blame among Evan, Liz, and Marilyn. She was particularly proud of the lampshade as a comic touch. The anonymous letter, of course, brought in Seth. She didn’t even realize that. He told me the truth when he said he sat in the parking lot trying to get up the drunken courage to confront Hardy. Finally, he just left.
“The day she murdered John, she parked a block from the school and had everything she needed in a big bag she always carried. She put the poison in a coffee cup she put in her bag to take away after John died. She figured we might think it was done with Evan’s cup. She came into the building through one of those doors without surveillance cameras, and threw the empty poison container and cup in a dumpster on the way home. She said it was easy.”
Grace sat back on her sofa, crossing her arms.
“Yes?” TJ said, looking at Grace’s face.
“Well, I find it strange that a series of events, such as you described, could work so well in her favor.”
“Between planning and just blind luck, she made it all happen. She’s amazingly bright, but her logic is twisted. I’d say Amy Deffly is one of thousands of people in this country who have mental health problems and won’t get help or can’t. Years ago, they could have been committed to a mental facility, but today it isn’t easy to commit people. On the other hand, years ago, we had plenty of people incarcerated in mental wards who shouldn’t have been.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Grace. “I can’t figure out how you do the job you do.”
TJ used her good hand to move her shoulder slightly. “I’d say every so often a day comes along where all goes well, and I’m responsible for that. I’d like to think I could have saved John Hardy or Evan Harrington, but I couldn’t. It’s like you, Grace, when you talk about students you wanted to save, but it didn’t work. You c
an’t be responsible for the lives of others, just like I can’t.”
“But how do you sleep at nights, TJ?”
“Lots of nights I don’t. But it doesn’t keep me from getting up the next morning, starting all over again. It’s good your job—teaching—allowed you to be optimistic about people. Most days I am too. That’s what we try to do—protect the community. But then Jake and I have those days where this happens. One slip by the school superintendent on fingerprinting, and we couldn’t stop two deaths. But I’d like to think we may have prevented more with Amy Deffly behind bars.”
Grace sat quietly in thought. She blinked a few times and pursed her lips. “How sad that is.”
“What?”
“Amy Deffly is nothing like Jeff. When her life fell apart, no one was there to help, and she ended up in foster homes with little support. What if someone had been there? Someone who loved her and gave her the help she needed?”
“Then the story might have been entirely different.”
Grace was silent for a moment. “Look at Jeff Maitlin. I know, I know, he didn’t have mental problems, but he could have. Both parents shot to death, no time to say good-bye, and a narrow escape himself. He was old enough to understand that. But he had grandparents who loved him, supported him, and helped him figure it out.”
“You’re right, Grace. The road was different for them both because of their circumstances. It’s what you sometimes call ‘falling through the cracks’—or in Jeff’s case, not.”
“What do you think will happen to Amy Deffly?”
TJ looked out the window for a moment where the sunshine was melting the icicles. “I expect she’ll end up in some sort of mental facility, and with the horrendous crimes she’s committed, she’ll not get out.”
They looked at each other bleakly, and before Grace could respond, they heard a voice coming around the corner and into the hospital room door. “Help has arrived! Time to feed the town hero!”
Lettie’s body followed her voice, and in her hands was a huge blueberry pie. Behind her came Deb, Jill, and Jeff, carrying plates and forks.
Chapter Thirty
Grace spoke to Ginger Grant and her mother at the front door; they were the last of the neighbors and friends to leave after having Lettie’s spice cake and ice cream. Everyone had gone to the Sunday matinee of Arsenic and Old Lace that afternoon. Now, Jill, Deb, and TJ had left Grace’s house, Deb and Jill going to TJ’s to settle her in for the night. Lettie had even given Eliot Ness, TJ’s cat, back to the detective so she’d have some company while she recuperated. Grace promised to go over in the morning to help her since it wouldn’t be easy to dress having only one workable arm.
“Thanks again for the flowers, Ms. Kimball,” said Ginger. “I’m so glad you finally got to see the play after all you went through on Friday. It was nice of Ms. Atkins to step up, agreeing to be our temporary director so we could still go on.”
“You are so welcome, Ginger. It went beautifully; your debut as Abby Brewster was spectacular, and I laughed so hard my ribs hurt even more. This time I was glad to see you actually had pie on the plate when you brought it out.”
“Wasn’t it amazingly cool that they gave Detective Sweeney a standing ovation when she came in with you? I could see it just around the edge of the curtain before it started. Maybe it will make her feel a little better since she still has to get over being shot.”
Grace laughed at Ginger’s serious expression. “I have a feeling Detective Sweeney will be fine, but it’s going to take a lot of Lettie’s pies to get her through rehab. That will be painful. Yes, people in town are so thankful she and Detective Williams found the culprit. They gave her a heartfelt tribute.”
“To think the murderer was right there all along, our teacher! Really scary, Ms. Kimball. I knew she was strange, but I didn’t realize she was scary violent,” said Ginger. “We’ll have to have a talk about that sometime. I’m not sure I understand the whole business. Makes me feel a little creepy.”
“I’m available whenever you need me, right next door.”
“Thank you, Grace,” said Ginger’s mom. “Now, young lady, you have an after-play party to go to at Ms. Atkins’ house.”
Grace closed the door behind them, wandering back into the living room, where Jeff was sitting in front of the fire. She still had a butterfly bandage closing the gash on her forehead, and one rib was bruised, so she’d just have to deal with the pain.
“More wine? I could go out to the kitchen for another bottle?”
“No,” said Jeff, helping her gently down to the sofa. “I’m fine. Let’s just be quiet here.”
They sat a few moments in silence. The fire crackled and the room was invitingly warm. Only the two of them, thought Grace. How cozy.
“It was surprising to see that teacher, Marilyn Atkins, together with her husband tonight.”
Grace nodded, taking a sip of wine. “After the play, she told me he was finally getting help with his alcohol problem. Contemplating murdering someone and trying to choke me were sobering wake-up calls. I’m glad she stepped up and helped with the play. The kids had worked so hard on it.”
“I imagine the superintendent will need a new drama teacher and play director now.”
Grace turned to him, a determined set to her chin. Lifting an eyebrow, she whispered, “Don’t look at me. This is one time I will be saying no.”
He chuckled and took her hand, holding it on his lap. “Do you think Johnson will be in trouble over that slip on her part to fingerprint Amy Deffly?”
“Boy, good question. I don’t know. Guess it depends on how the School Board feels. They’re the ones who hire and fire. It did cost two lives. I can understand why it happened because school administration isn’t exactly what it used to be. I can remember when the superintendent was out in the buildings talking to people or discussing policy. Now it appears to be a paperwork nightmare. I guess we’ll see.”
She moved herself slightly to get more comfortable with her sore rib.
“Lettie’s cake was amazing tonight,” he offered. “Boy, can she cook. You know, I had a thought. Maybe I should run it by you and see what you think.”
“Sure,” said Grace. “She’s been putting weight on me for over twenty-five years.”
“Well,” he said, starting out slowly. “Here was my thought: down the road I’m going to turn Lockwood House into a bed and breakfast. You knew that, right?”
Grace nodded her head.
“Those are my plans; I think I may be on track to do the B & B in, say, three years. So, I have another idea for a project which will go with the B & B.”
Grace squeezed his hand and said, “Really? Yet another project?”
“Absolutely. What would you think if I bought a little more of the lot on the north side of the house so Todd could rebuild the original carriage house? I’m sure we could design a very good-sized apartment in the upstairs. The first floor, of course, would be a garage for the visitors.”
Grace leaned back, closing her eyes. “Sounds good to me. And who is going to live in this ‘good-sized apartment’ upstairs?”
“I thought I might ask Del Novak and, well, in three years he might even have a wife who would be willing to live there too. He could be the handyman/repair person, and she could be the cook for the B & B.”
Grace suddenly opened her eyes. “What? Take Lettie away from me?”
“Well, not right away. In a few years. I would pay them, so they’d have a regular income to add to their pensions. Doesn’t it seem like it would be a perfect situation for them?”
Grace frowned, taking in a semi-deep, painful breath. “You realize, of course, they’ll be into their mid-seventies by then? How long do you think they want to work?”
“Those two? They’ll be running rings around us when they’re in their nineties.”
Grace considered his plan. “Lettie is rather a good cook.”
“Good? Are you kidding? She’s spectacular.”
&n
bsp; “Does this mean I could keep her with me until you want to hire her?” asked Grace, trying to hide her apprehension.
“Of course. I had the thought that maybe by then we could be looking at you living in the house too. Well, officially, I mean. But, it’s a bit early to think about ‘officially.’ At least, I figure that’s what you’re thinking…a bit early.”
“You can read my mind, after all. But, alas, I can’t read yours because you’ve only told me a little about what’s happened to you. You have a lot of secrets, Jeff Maitlin.”
He squeezed her hand and pursed his lips, thinking about what to say next. “Maybe we should fix the situation, especially since I want you to know I love you. I love you, Grace Kimball, and I would like you to marry me. There, I’ve said it for the first time in my life. I’ve lived in so many places since I left college, but never had anyone to care for me, nor anyone I’ve cared about like you. I think I must learn how to be together and not so alone, nor keep my own counsel. Was that what you had in mind?”
“It’s a good start, Mr. Maitlin. So, how do you propose—oh, that’s a scary word—to start fixing this situation? Do you have a plan?”
“I do. But, before I forget, I should mention I saw an article in a newspaper the other day at the office about a bed and breakfast that had a series of murders. It could be, I mean if you want to get involved in my B & B, you might still have to dodge a few bullets.”
She looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “That sounds much more interesting than just fading quietly away.”
He shook his head. “I’m beginning to understand TJ’s concerns. I was afraid you’d say that.”
“Your plan?”
“Oh, yes. I got sidetracked. I thought we might take a little trip—not a long one or the workers at the Register might mutiny. We could, say, go up to Chicago for a few days, and then go over to Indiana to visit the cemetery where my family is, and then spend some time in my small town. What do you think? Would it be enough of my past to give you some comfort instead of thinking I came out of nowhere?”
Death Takes No Bribes: An Endurance Mystery (Endurance Mysteries Book 3) Page 23