Giving Up the Ghost

by Marilyn Levinson

  "Bor-ing," Heather said as soon as he'd finished. Then added quickly. "But a good topic, Lance."

  "Yes, a very good topic," Gabbie agreed, watching Lance's face turn strawberry red. "Let's help Lance spice up his essay."

  "Lots of sexy women," someone called out.

  "Torture scenes." Lynne cracked her gum. "Sorry," she said before Gabbie had a chance to reprimand her.

  "All very graphic," Gabbie said, "but think--what makes a movie a classic?"

  Dexter raised his hand. Though this was his first participation in class discussion, Gabbie shook her head. "I said think. And after you've thought, write down five specific elements that make a film a classic. You have five minutes."

  She walked through the rows, delighted to see brains in action. The results were creative, too. When she got to Barrett, she saw he was drawing tiny pictures in his spiral notebook. She caught a glimpse of a burning house. Two figures were lying on the ground. Repelled, she recoiled.

  "Start working on your list," she said.

  "I'm thinking," Barrett answered, and inked in a knife stabbing one of the bodies on the ground.

  I must speak to his guidance counselor, Gabbie told herself as she walked back to her desk. The class spent the next ten minutes going over their lists. The kids all wanted to read theirs aloud, and much as she hated to squelch their enthusiasm, it was time to move on. She took a deep breath, let it out slowly.

  "We've one more essay to listen to. Barrett, are you prepared?"

  Instead of the excuse she'd expected, followed by a request for an extension, Barrett surprised her with a broad smile. "Good thing I had a copy of my essay at home. I'm ready when you are."

  She disregarded his impudence. "Please begin."

  "I've chosen to dispute a slogan from the Bible."

  "Slogan?" Gabbie said. "A slogan is something we associate with advertising or propaganda."

  "Whatever." Barrett shrugged. "My essay is 'The Strong Shall Inherit the Earth.'"

  The essay was every bit as horrendous as she'd feared it would be. The writing was amazingly powerful, the language almost beautiful in its simplicity, as Barrett defended his theory that the strong had always ruled because they were entitled to rule. When he started extolling Hitler's virtues, she interrupted.

  "Enough, Barrett. What you're saying is offensive."

  "I've every right to read my essay aloud just like everyone else."

  "Your essay isn't like everyone else's," she retorted. "Please leave it on my desk and take your seat."

  "Whatever." He did as she'd requested and returned to his drawing.

  After class, Lydia sat in the English office and read Barrett's paper. The last part was the worst: "The unproductive, the elderly, the sick and insane should abide by the laws of the strong and able. Those unable to add to the society of the strong should be put down out of kindness to themselves."

  "Out of kindness to themselves!" She spit out the words as she gathered up her belongings and strode off to the guidance office.

  This time she was in luck. George Breck was leaning back in his swivel chair, gazing out the window. His navy blazer gaped open to reveal a considerable paunch. She stepped past the secretary, who was talking on the telephone, and knocked at the open door.

  "Hi, George, Gabbie Meyerson. I've taken over Lydia Ketchem's classes, and I need to speak to you about a student."

  Dark, intelligent eyes assessed her. "Come in, Gabbie. Please close the door and take a seat."

  When she was sitting, he said, "How're things going?"

  "Fine except for Barrett Connelly."

  A slow smile spread across George's face. "Tell me why I'm not surprised."

  "He's uncooperative, draws pictures of death and destruction, and he wrote this." She thrust the essay toward him.

  George scanned it quickly and handed it back to her. "Not a democratic thinker, is he?"

  Gabbie glared at him. "This is far from a joke. I think Barrett's dangerous. God, have you people forgotten Columbine? Virginia State?"

  "Of course not. And we're well aware of Barrett's eccentricities. But we've no indication that he's dangerous."

  "That's not what I've heard about him and his pal, Todd Ross."

  George picked up a pencil and balanced it between his two index fingers. "Yes, we've all heard the stories. But hearsay and having evidence of criminal behavior are two different things entirely. Without proof to back us up, the school district could be sued for accusing a student of criminal activities."

  "What about zero tolerance! Schools are suspending students for making threatening comments."

  "We do what we can. If Barrett and Todd wear black trench coats to school, they get in-school suspension. I'm afraid that's all we can do legally without proof of dangerous intent."

  Gabbie shook the essay she held in her hand. "What about this? It shows violent tendencies."

  "It shows he's taking issue with a Biblical quote. Professing a philosophy that runs contrary to our belief system."

  "A philosophy our country considered evil enough to fight against," she said.

  "I'll make a copy to keep in his folder." George took the essay from her and headed for the copy machine in the outer office.

  She rose as he reentered his office and handed her back the essay. "That's it?"

  "For now. Sorry." He let out a rueful chuckle. "I don't even think I can change his English class this late in the year. Too many teachers have asked me to remove him from their classes."

  "I'm not asking you to." She sat down again. "But I'd appreciate your telling me about his background."

  George stretched both arms above his head then clasped them behind his head. "Barrett's an only child. Father's a garage mechanic, mother's an RN. Surprisingly enough, both parents are decent, caring people. Which is why, when he got into trouble in Queens, they moved out here, thinking a rural-suburban environment would make a difference. They've tried putting him in therapy a few times, but Barrett wouldn't cooperate."

  "What kind of trouble did he get into?"

  "Truancy. Caught lifting a few items from a local store." He paused. "His parents told me he'd been suspected of starting a few small fires."

  Gabbie's heart began pounding. "Two of the big three," she murmured.

  George nodded. "We've no proof of the fires or the dog shaving incident."

  She appreciated his honesty. "No proof, but you'd think--"

  "Sorry to cut you short, but I've an appointment in two minutes. I'll let you know if I hear anything, and would appreciate it if you'd do the same."

  "Sure," Gabbie said, deciding she liked George Breck. He'd just told her, in his own fashion, that much as he'd like to take action, there was nothing he could do until Barrett did something worse.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Lunch was a turkey sandwich at the Harbor Diner. Gabbie wondered if Darren would put in an appearance, and was both disappointed and relieved when he didn't show up. She drove over to the library, intent on boning up on photography. The only how-to book she found was wordy and precise in its details about shutter speed and light, F stops, and digital cameras. She flipped through books of photographs. Some nature shots were heartbreakingly beautiful. Seeing them gave her an idea.

  Instead of focusing on the technical side of photography, she'd work on composition. She knew enough about that from the various art appreciation courses she'd taken over the years.

  She'd take whatever kids showed up Friday afternoon out to the woods behind the school. She'd select one aspect of nature--perhaps a tree--and ask them to capture its unique qualities. Each student would pick a tree and photograph it, illustrating its shape and color, texture and size. It would be a lesson in keen observation. Viewing an ordinary object from an original and personal perspective. Either set off by itself or as a part of the whole.

  Yes! Excited, Gabbie started searching through the books for photographs of trees. She'd take them to the meeting to show the kids before they
went out to find their own trees.

  She was about to check out the books and leave for home, when she decided to look up the newspaper reports of Cam's death. Newsday must have run an article about it, as well as the two or three local papers that covered Chrissom Harbor and the neighboring towns.

  At the reference desk she asked to see old copies of Long Island papers.

  "We've everything for the past year in the newspaper stacks." The librarian pointed to the room behind the glass wall. "Over there, just past the computers. Actually, you can also go to their web sites and bring up articles on the computer. Anything I can help you with?"

  "No, no," Gabbie said. "I just wanted to look up some things about the town, now that I'm living here."

  The librarian gave her a broad grin. "The articles on Cameron Leeds are in the last two May issues of our local paper, and either the second or third week in June."

  "Oh." Some detective she was. About as subtle as a grizzly bear in a General Store. "Well, I thought I'd take a look."

  "Don't forget Newsday. May nineteenth and twentieth, I believe."

  Gabbie spread out the newspapers on one of the tables. The first local paper had it plastered across page one: "Body of Local CH Man Found on Beach."

  "The body of 37-year-old Cameron Leeds, a Chrissom Harbor resident, was discovered by two teenaged boys as they walked along the beach."

  She gasped as she read the next line: "'Todd and me, we were on the beach around seven-thirty, eight o'clock--just fooling around--when we saw this guy just lying there,' said 16-year-old Barrett Connelly."

  Todd and me, she repeated silently. What the hell were the two of you doing there?

  Did they do it? Could they have killed Cam for the money? And why hadn't anyone mentioned that those two awful boys had discovered the body?

  She scanned the rest of the article, and then read the follow-ups. The doctor's report appeared weeks later in the local paper.

  "'No suspicion of foul play,' declared Dr. Bradley, after examining the body of local businessman, Cameron Leeds. 'Poor Cam must have lost his footing at the edge of the bluff and fallen to the beach below. Plenty of contusions and his neck was broken.'"

  There were enough gory details to entertain the readers, but the fact that Cam had been drinking had been kept out of the paper.

  A noise--something between a squawk and a gasp--sounded in her right ear. Gabbie spun around and found herself nose-to-nose with Sonia Russell. Before she could speak, Sonia took off at a half-trot in the direction of the circulation desk.

  What on earth was Sonia doing, peering over her shoulder? The poor woman was obviously distraught about Cam's death. Still, she had no business spying on Gabbie.

  Perhaps Sonia was upset because she'd seen something the day Cam had been killed. Gabbie considered chasing after her to find out. Sonia lived next door to the Leverettes. She might have overheard Jill and Cam arguing. Or seen Jill or Fred leaving the house that afternoon and, for some reason, followed her neighbor to the cottage.

  It was too farfetched. But Sonia worked in the library and could have overheard a conversation about Cam, a conversation connected to his death. Gabbie made a mental note to question her about the day Cam died, but she'd have to do it when Sonia was in a calm state of mind.

  As she was putting the newspapers in order, a headline in one of the May issues caught her attention: "Construction of Luxury Homes to Break Ground in June"

  She read on. The homes hadn't been visible from the road when she'd passed the site Sunday, on her way to Chrissom Harbor. No doubt this was the property that had belonged to Reese, Jack, Terry and Don. The property Cam had convinced them to sell to him, and which he in turn sold to the Coxwell Development Corporation for a tremendous profit.

  She refolded the newspapers and, as she returned them to their proper place, she saw Jill approaching. "Are you taking a break between students?"

  "Actually, I'm finished for the week. I'm on my way to Reese's office to work on payroll." Jill gave her a rueful smile. "I'll be there 'til after six."

  "Theo and Charlie persuaded me to hold a meeting of the Photography Club this Friday. I think I'll have them take pictures in the woods behind the school."

  A flicker of fear crossed Jill's face. She shook her head, and it disappeared into a tremulous smile. "Why don't you come for dinner Friday evening? I've the afternoon free, and time enough to prepare something decent."

  Gabbie hesitated. Was it protocol to accept a dinner invitation from the mother of one of her students? But Jill was a neighbor of sorts. And Cam's lover, which put her high on the priority list. She stifled a snort of laughter as she realized finding his murderer had turned into her number one concern. "Sure, I'd love to," she said. "I'll bring a bottle of wine."

  "Lovely. Theo will be pleased. She told me she likes you."

  "She did?"

  Jill laughed at the look of pleased surprise on Gabbie's face. "Believe me, my daughter's not one to show her feelings." Her voice went flat. "And you'll meet Fred, of course. How about seven? We live at 24 Greenbriar Lane."

  "I'll find it. Thanks a lot."

  Fred was the only suspect she hadn't met, and she'd be seeing him in two days. Good work. Now, on to Sonia.

  She felt a ping of excitement as she approached the circulation desk. Sonia was the only one on duty. After waiting while Sonia checked out several children's books to a young mother, she stepped up to the desk. Sonia must have seen her coming, because she quickly busied herself shuffling through some papers.

  "Miss Russell? Sonia," she said, when she got no response, "could I speak to you for a moment?"

  Sonia let out a sigh of exasperation as she turned to Gabbie. "What is it?" Her manner was ungracious, bordering on rude.

  "I couldn't help noticing your reaction to the article I was reading," When she got no response, she continued. "Did you know Cameron Leeds well?"

  Sonia ducked her head, but not before Gabbie saw the red rising across her plain face. "As well as anyone, I suppose."

  "Then I imagine you were very upset when he died."

  Sonia lifted her chin and glared at Gabbie. "He's dead and gone, and you'd best let sleeping dogs lie."

  "Do you think it's possible someone murdered Cam?"

  Sonia's mouth worked. "I-I..."

  To Gabbie's dismay, she spun on her heel and escaped through the door for Employees Only.

  * * * *

  Cam offered to swear on a stack of Bibles that Sonia knew nothing about his death. "Are you kidding? She's the meekest person in Chrissom Harbor. As I remember, she never even set foot in this cottage."

  "What does that have to do with the price of tea?" Gabbie said.

  Cam shrugged, a graceful gesture. Gabbie could imagine it sent women swooning at his feet. Or drove them to his bed.

  "Nothing, I suppose. But I can tell you Sonia was crazy about me. She loved when I flirted with her."

  "I can't imagine anyone flirting with Sonia. What on earth did you say?"

  Cam grinned, clearly pleased with himself. "I always made a big fuss over her when I saw her in town. Sometimes I'd whisper I was mad about her, and we'd tie the knot one day."

  "How could you?"

  "Where was the harm? It was all in good fun. It made Sonia giggle and feel important. Gave her male attention in a safe way."

  "I suppose you're right. You've got me suspecting everyone I run into of murdering you."

  "You're doing great, Gabbie. I have confidence you'll find the one who did it."

  She eyed him balefully. "Let's hope he doesn't try to kill me first."

  * * * *

  Gabbie ate an early dinner, and decided to stop at Logan's for dessert. Cam was right. The restaurant was the heart of CH, and the best place to gather information about what had been going on the day of Cam's death. Her heart raced with anticipation as she applied lipstick. She was getting obsessed with finding his murderer.

  When she opened the door to the bar, she
squinted in the dim light. Terry and Jack were at the same table they'd occupied on Monday night. A small, plump woman sat beside Jack. Gabbie saw her pat his arm with great affection.

  "Muy buenas noches, señorita." Terry smiled up at her. "Are you joining us tonight?"

  "Hello, everyone. I thought I'd stop by for dessert." Gabbie took the empty seat next to Terry.

  "Hello there, Gabbie," Jack said. "Meet my wife, Adele. Mutt and Jeff is what they call us."

  "Hi, Gabbie." Adele smiled and waved across the table. "Pleased to meet you."

  Mike came over to tell her the specials. When she said she only wanted dessert, he advised her to try the Apple Betty.

  "I certainly will. And a cup of decaf please."

  Terry, Jack, and Adele went back to their salads and to the conversation they'd left off, filling Gabbie in with relevant bits of information. The topic was new sewers, one that didn't interest her, so she said nothing as she sipped her coffee, feeling oddly at home. She appreciated the warm welcome she'd received from everyone she'd met at Logan's, and experienced a pang of guilt for scrutinizing each of them as Cam's possible murderer.

  Reese joined them as Mike was serving Terry, Jack, and Adele their main course.

  "Is Don coming too?" Gabbie said.

  "Nope," Reese said. "He only shows up Mondays and Thursdays, Tessa's nights out with the girls."

  Terry and Jack burst out laughing. Clearly Don didn't trust Tessa. Not since her affair with Cam. She was wondering how to introduce the subject of Cam, when Reese did it for her.

  "Of course Tessa's been as good as gold since her little escapade with Cam three years ago."

  "Don knows better than to upset his apple cart," Adele said dryly. "Tessa's the money maker. All he does it strut around the salon and order supplies, when he isn't playing cashier because the receptionist's busy."

  Terry winked. "Now how do you know that, Adele?"

  Adele let out a sigh of exasperation. "Jeez Louise! I do have my hair cut once a month."

  The subject of Cam had come and gone. Gabbie needed to revive it. "I was reading about Cam's fall in the old newspapers in the library. Didn't the police even consider the possibility that it might not have been an accident?"