by Diane Weiner
“Okay, I can take a hint. And the quilt is coming along just fabulously. Talk to you soon.”
Lynette put away her phone and exited the school with Jackson. They got into the cruiser and started toward the station. Lynette turned to Jackson.
“So, when are you going to ask Theresa Rizzo out on a date?” asked Lynette.
“Oh, I don’t even know if she’s available.” Jackson blushed.
“Come on, Jackson. You are a detective aren’t you? You don’t even have to be a detective to figure out that; you just need to check out social media.” She grabbed her phone, and typed in some information. “See; right on her home page it says she’s single. Single. You need to go for it before someone else snatches her up. “
“What should I say?”
“Ask her what kind of movies she likes and then casually mention that you could pick her up and go see something together.”
“I don’t know…I’ll have to think about it.”
“Man up, partner. Go after what you want. She seems really nice.”
They arrived at the station and waited for Blaze Conrad. Jackson straightened the papers on his desk into a neat pile and grabbed a bag of barbeque-flavored chips from a drawer.
“Here, have some.” He ripped open the bag and offered some to Lynette. Within minutes the phone rang.
“This is Officer Reynolds. I have Mr. Conrad here.”
“Thanks, we’ll be right there,” said Lynette. She grabbed a yellow legal pad and a pen. Jackson grabbed the portable voice recorder. Lynette and Jackson headed to the interrogation room which was cold and uncomfortable. The temperature was deliberately turned down to keep the suspects on edge. Lynette always wore her sweater. The walls were gray cinder block and the furniture was metal––bed pan metal, as Jackson always referred to it. The tile floor and bare walls amplified every sound.
Blaze Conrad was dressed in jeans and a denim shirt. He’d taken off his coat but put it right back on. Lynette thought his fingers looked blue. Blaze removed his knit cap and smoothed his strawberry blond hair.
“Thank you for coming in voluntarily,” said Lynette. “We’re hoping you can help with our investigation.” She turned on the voice recorder.
“Mr. Conrad, how long had you known Vicky Rogers?”
“Since my son started kindergarten. I’d say two years.”
“Can you describe your relationship with her?” asked Lynette.
“I think she was a snake and had no business being a principal. She was oblivious to what went on at that school and had no empathy for the students.” Blaze opened and closed his weathered fists.
“Why do you say that?” asked Lynette.
“She’s supposed to protect her students. My son showed every sign in the book that he was being molested. My wife and I––or should I say my ex-wife and I––came to Mrs. Rogers for help but she did nothing. If she did believe us, she just swept it under the rug. If that teacher hadn’t been caught in the act, who knows how long my son would have continued to suffer.”
“That’s terrible. I know that had to have been very upsetting,” said Lynette.
Jackson chimed in.
“So, Mr. Conrad, where were you the night Vicky Rogers was killed?” Jackson’s serious tone was off set by the fact that he was chomping on potato chips.
“I was at the dollar movies. Alone.” The metal chair clanked as Blaze Conrad pushed back from the table.
“And what time was that?” asked Jackson. He licked orange salt off his fingers as he waited for a response. Lynette thought that if Jackson was trying to play bad cop, he should have lost the bag of chips. The finger licking simply wasn’t enhancing the tough guy image.
“I dunno. I guess I got there around 7:30. I watched the James Bond movie. I was home by 10:00 cause I remember turning on the early news.”
“Did anyone see you there?” asked Jackson.
“Like I said, I was alone. Ryan stays at his mom’s during the week. I don’t like him seeing violence so I decided not to go see it on the weekend.”
“Did you happen to see Vicky Rogers that night, Mr. Conrad?” asked Jackson. “Did you threaten to kill her or in any way have anything to do with her death?” Jackson rose slightly from his seat, pounded his fist on the desk, and put his face closer to Blaze like the cops on TV did when they were trying to be intimidating. Lynette thought he was about as intimidating as a Muppet.
“It’s no secret I hated her. She knew exactly what was going on between that sick bastard of a teacher and my son but did absolutely nothing. We had a conference with her, my wife and me. Ryan was not right. He used to love school but suddenly cried when we dropped him off. He also started wetting the bed. Mrs. Rogers told us she’d look into it. Acted all sympathetic and everything. If that other teacher hadn’t walked in on them it may have still been going on.” Blaze was practically shouting.
“If that were my child,” said Lynette, I would have ripped her apart like a mother tiger.” She twisted her hands for emphasis. “I wouldn’t blame you for going after her. It would make me angry enough to kill. Did you kill her, Mr. Conrad?”
“Of course not. I won’t lie and say I wasn’t happy that she got what she deserved, but I had nothing to do with it.” He readjusted his jacket and sat forward in his seat.
“Okay, Mr. Conrad. We’ll check out your alibi. You are free to go. Thanks for your cooperation,” said Lynette.
Chapter 9
Susan awoke at precisely 7:06 am. She never had to set an alarm clock. It was uncanny how she woke up between seven and seven fifteen virtually every morning. She had imagined she’d sleep later once she retired but her internal clock was too firmly set. Mike was snoring loudly beside her in the four poster bed. It was a wonder she could sleep at all. On a good day he sounded like the suction machine the dentist used. On a bad one he sounded more like a lawnmower. Mike was a night owl. Just about the time Susan was falling asleep on the couch watching Law and Order, Mike was jumping on the stationary bike or catching up on Words with Friends. Susan took a quick shower and pulled on her favorite jeans and a cable knit sweater. Then she headed downstairs for breakfast.
Let’s see, thought Susan, oatmeal or oatmeal? She chose oatmeal. Ludwig nuzzled against her leg as she ate and read the paper. She tore out the crossword puzzle to do later. After her second cup of coffee, Susan carried the mug and bowl into the kitchen and rinsed them in the sink. She would load the dishwasher later. She put on her Reeboks, grabbed her keys, and drove to Carolina’s.
When she arrived in Carolina’s driveway, Susan honked the horn. She knew that texting, “I’m here” was the cooler thing to do but it would take her longer to do that than to get out of the car and ring the bell. Carolina came out of the house wearing a down jacket and a red scarf with matching mittens.
“I’m so glad to see you. I’m so anxious to find some information today. Thanks for doing this.” Carolina slid into the seat beside her. Susan softened the radio. In the rear view mirror, Susan saw a car that had been parked down the street start up. It was driving slowly, keeping its distance from Susan’s Prius.
“You’ll have to give me directions,” said Susan. That car is still following me, thought Susan. She didn’t want to alarm Carolina so she didn’t say anything.
“Go to the light and turn right. Then keep going. Make another right at the four way stop.”
After Susan made the turn, she no longer saw the mysterious car. It was probably just her overactive imagination.
Ten minutes later, they pulled into the parking lot of the Apple Tree Apartment Complex. It was an older complex but the exterior appeared freshly painted and the grounds were well maintained from what she could see.
Carolina used her key to open the door of her dad’s apartment. The musty smell of dry heat greeted them. The apartment was tiny and looked as though it had been furnished in the eighties. The walls were covered in cream-colored wall paper with a tan-textured print that could have been leav
es or maybe even feathers. The wall behind the sofa was paneled with cherry-colored wood. The gold-toned shag carpeting was well worn. Despite the midmorning sun, the living room was dark and gloomy. There was a bedroom to the right and a small galley kitchen on the left.
“Let’s start in the bedroom,” suggested Carolina.
Susan followed her. The white French doors to the closet were already open. Susan couldn’t help thinking it was almost an invitation to snoop. Dark jeans and a flannel shirt were draped lazily over the closet door.
“I’ll start here. You look around the bed and nightstand.” The closet smelled like old library books. Susan slid the hangers across the wooden bar one by one. Black pants, dress shirts, jeans and more jeans, a jacket…nothing unusual here. A pair of boots and some black dress shoes were tossed in the bottom of the closet. On the top shelf, Susan saw a few folded sweatshirts and a pair of running shoes.
Meanwhile, Carolina reached under the bed. There was no bedspread––only a blue thermal blanket. Susan watched as Carolina pulled out an empty Vodka bottle. Poor baby, thought Susan. She watched as Carolina shook her head and wiped away a tear.
“Check the nightstand,” whispered Susan. “Grab anything that might be helpful.” Carolina stuffed some crumpled receipts into her coat pocket. Susan eyed the wicker hamper. Going through Javier’s dirty underwear was just a bit too intimate, she thought. “Carolina, check out the hamper. I’ll be in the living room.”
Susan lifted the floral couch cushions. She was so focused on finding information to solve Vicky’s murder that she jumped when Carolina’s voice broke the silence saying, “I think we should check the laptop.” Carolina hit the power button. The screen came to life, glowing blue against the dark backdrop of the walls. It was just warming up when all of a sudden they heard the jiggling of keys outside the door.
“What’s he doing back so soon? What do we do now?” whispered Carolina. At that moment, Susan noticed a bowling bag next to the coffee table.
Susan’s heart was pounding so loudly she was sure Carolina could hear it. She quickly surveyed the apartment. “What’s behind those curtains?” asked Susan.
“Sliding glass doors and a balcony.” A clank of metal which had to be keys dropping on the floor made them both gasp but bought them a few extra minutes.
“I think that’s our best option,” said Susan. They raced for the balcony. Carolina unlocked the sliding glass doors. Thank goodness there wasn’t a stick in the tract like at home. They scooted out to the balcony sliding the door behind them just as they heard the apartment door opening.
Javier looked a bit disoriented as he paused in the middle of the living room. Carolina and Susan watched through an opening in the curtain as they crouched behind the lawn chairs. Susan realized she’d been holding her breathe as if the sound of breathing would tip Javier off to their presence. Javier made his way into the kitchen and flicked on the light. He yanked open the fridge and took out a Corona.
“Oh, my God,” said Carolina. “The computer––we left it on. He never leaves it on when he’s not using it.”
Susan was now speechless as well as breathless.
“What if he sees it?” asked Carolina.
Javier wandered back into the living room as he took a swig of his beer. He was within arm’s length of the laptop as he plopped like a rag doll onto the couch.
“He’s going to notice it as soon as he goes for the remote,” said Carolina. She was shaking. Susan thought that “shaking with fear” was just an expression but apparently that’s exactly what Carolina was doing. Javier took another swig of his beer. Susan’s mind was in hyper mode as she evaluated possible escape plans.
When the sound of the phone ringing broke the silence, both Susan and Carolina jumped. Susan bumped her nose on the chair. Javier got up and went into the bedroom to answer the phone. The bedroom door was open but Javier’s back was to the living room.
When it became apparent that Javier was engaged in a conversation, Carolina said, “I’ll go out first. I’ll turn off the computer on the way. If he sees me I’ll say I just stopped by to check on him.” She pulled open the sliding glass door and glanced over to Javier. Then she crept up to the computer, turned it off and silently unlocked the front door. Then she motioned to Susan.
Susan gently closed the sliding door and ran for the front door. “Phew, I’ve done my cardio for the day,” said Susan when they were safely outside the apartment. They got into the car and headed back to Carolina’s. “So did you find anything that could be helpful” asked Susan.
“An empty vodka bottle under the bed––but that’s not that unusual these days. I grabbed some receipts and a business card that were in the nightstand drawer.” Just then they pulled into the driveway.
“Let me see,” said Susan. Carolina pulled the crumpled receipts out of her coat pocket and handed them to Susan. Susan went through them. “Uh oh,” said Susan, after a few minutes had passed.
“What is it?”
“This receipt is from the gas station right next to the school. The time and date are from the evening of the concert. Can you think of any reason your dad would be getting gas all the way out there by the school?”
“Only one,” said Carolina. “If my dad did kill my mom, I want to see him in jail forever.”
Chapter 10
The snow was beginning to fall in bigger flakes as Susan drove Carolina back to her house. Carolina paused as she was about to open the car door. “Please come in for lunch. The housekeeper isn’t here on weekends and I don’t want to be alone. There are still some casseroles in the fridge.”
“I’d love to,” said Susan. She turned off the engine and walked up the circular drive with Carolina. Susan had always loved this neighborhood. Each house had about an acre of land and the houses themselves were exquisite. This was not one of those cookie cutter housing developments, no siree. Each house was unique. Carolina lived in a two story Tudor-style with a stone façade. Across the street was a spacious red brick ranch. The windows were trimmed in white. Carolina grabbed the mail on the way in.
“Anything good?” asked Susan.
“Just bills and cards, like usual. Oh, this card is from my Mom’s friend Kara. They went to college together at Cornell and have been, I mean had been, friends ever since.” Carolina opened the card and read it aloud.
Dear Carolina,
I was devastated to hear the news about your mom. I was out of the country and am so sad that I missed the funeral. Your mom was like a sister to me. She helped me so much––especially when I was having all that trouble with my son John. Please let me know if there is anything I can do for you or your dad.
Love,
Kara
“She is such a sweet lady. Mom loved her.” Susan followed Carolina as she went into the kitchen and put a tuna casserole in the microwave. Susan set the table.
“Kara knew how special my mom was. She’s probably missing her almost as much as I am.” Suddenly they heard a crash.
“What was that?” asked Susan
“I sure don’t know. This is usually a super quiet neighborhood. Maybe the wind blew over one of the trash cans.”
“That’s probably it,” said Susan. Only she didn’t remember even a hint of wind when they came inside. She remembered the car that she thought was following them earlier and felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. If Javier isn’t the killer, she thought, the real killer is still out there. Who knows what the true motive for killing Vicky was. Maybe the killer was after something here at the house. Maybe Carolina is in danger. Lynette and Mike always say I have an overactive imagination. I’m sure they’re right. She sat down at the blond wooden table with Carolina for lunch.
Chapter 11
Jody Decker was finishing the last of her Christmas shopping with her friend Theresa. The mall was crowded––what did she expect, the weekend before Christmas? Luckily, she had patience––lots of patience. She’d only lived in Westbrook a few months n
ow. When she heard there was an opening at the school, she’d sent in her application the same day. Now here she was with a great job, a new best friend, and her first apartment
“I still need something for my niece,” said Theresa. “I’m not sure what size she is so I don’t want to buy her clothes.”
“Bath and Soaps Shop,” said Jody, pointing at the store entrance. “All girls love lotion and shower gel.”
Jody and Theresa wandered in. Jody loved the aroma of apples and cinnamon that embraced them as soon as they crossed the threshold. She suddenly craved apple pie. Before long, both women had a cacophony of scents climbing up their arms.
“I need to get my mother a little something else too.” Jody picked up a lotion she hadn’t seen before. “Melatonin Melon. It’s supposed to help with jet lag. Mom could really use that. She just came back from a trip to Africa last week and said it took her three days to get over the jet lag.” Jody put it in her straw basket along with the matching shower gel and a net sponge. In spite of the fact that every register was open, the line was ten customers deep. Ahead of them, a woman must have had thirty bottles of shower gels and body mists. After standing in line for what seemed like an eternity, Jody and Theresa headed to the food court for a treat. Jody chose a walnut brownie.
“I’m going to be a rebel and get the one with nuts,” said Jody.
Theresa laughed. “Why not, we’re on vacation now.” Nuts were forbidden at school because of children with allergies.
“Who had ever heard of a magnet school specifically for kids with nut allergies?” said Jody.
“Well, there are plenty of nuts at school––just not the edible kind,” joked Theresa. She ordered a pecan chocolate chip cookie. The food court was teeming with shoppers but they eventually found a table.
“I heard that Vicky was covered in bruises when they found her,” said Theresa. “Poor lady. Do you think Antonio Petrocelli had anything to do with it? I heard a rumor that he and Vicky were having an affair. Remember that core curriculum summit they went to? I heard they never left her hotel room.”