A Lesson in Foul Play: A Cozy Mystery Book

by Cynthia Raye

  “The old movie, Cocoon,” a boy named Tim said. “And you’re right. Mr. Brimley wasn’t exactly Slender Man.”

  “And how about all those sumo wrestlers. They aren’t exactly bean poles. Anyhow,” Devonte continued, “you may be a little overweight, but so what? Who cares?”

  What a nice thing for Devonte to say, Ronni thought. But then again, Devonte is just a nice young man. She frowned. It had to be Sylvia they were talking about. Could it all be true?

  “She calls me geeky geek all the time,” Devonte continued. “Okay, maybe I do go a little overboard when it comes to computers. I try not to let it get to me, though it does get tiresome,”

  “And like you said, the worst thing was when she deliberately pushed Justin Sears down the steps,” another girl said.

  “Oh, I’m so, so sorry!” a boy named Don mimicked Sylvia’s voice. “I just lost my balance for a moment. Oh, my God, I hope I didn’t hurt you, I wouldn’t ever want to hurt anyone.’ And then she rushed down the stairs and stood over him with that fake sorrowful look on her face.”

  “And poor Justin,” Millie said. “You know he’s back in school. As of today. But he’s going to have to be on crutches for a while. Broken pelvis and broken arm.”

  “Sure doesn’t help in computer lab to be able to use just one hand, does it?” Devonte said, a look of disgust on his face.

  “And it certainly ends his football playing for Watson-Collins,” Ruthie said.

  “What I don’t understand is how anyone can be so mean,” another boy said.

  “You know Justin and I are good friends,” Don said. “When I went to see him the hospital, he told me that he was going to get even.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know. But he was really angry.”

  My God, Ronni thought. Was all this true? Was Sylvia really like that? She glanced over to the next aisle where Emma Miller stood listening, a deep frown on her face. Emma was Sylvia’s best friend, Ronni knew. Her only true friend, it seemed. Oh, there was the group of girls—a dozen of them—who seemed to hang on Sylvia’s every word. Girls who tried to emulate her in all sorts of ways—from how she dressed to her manner and tone of voice. It was as if they almost worshiped her. A few of these girls stood near the exit from the auditorium, exaggerated looks of shock on their faces at what they were hearing. It was like they couldn’t believe anyone was saying such things about their heroine, the idol.

  But Emma stood by herself, and Ronni wondered what she was thinking. And what the “yes” girls actually thought. How they really felt about Sylvia. At any rate, it was a shock to hear the group of kids talking about Sylvia because the staff did seem to view her as the perfect student. She had everything, it seemed—high intelligence, good looks.

  She was about five-foot-eight, with shining black hair and high cheekbones—a pleasant personality, or so it had always seemed to Ronni. Was she really a Dr. Jekyll/Miss Hyde sort of person? Ronni found that hard to accept but figured there had to be at least some truth to what the kids were saying, else they wouldn’t be saying it.

  She shook her head and picked up her notes and improvisation books. One thing was certain, she told herself. She was going to have to start paying better attention to what was going on under her nose.

  Chapter 2

  Ronni had a free period coming up, and so did her best friend on the faculty, Liz Lindquist, who taught junior and senior English. She decided she’d talk to Liz about Sylvia and see what she thought.

  Liz was just coming out of her classroom. “I’d like to talk to you,” Ronni said, “if you aren’t doing anything.”

  “Planned on having a cup of coffee and maybe a sinful chocolate donut.” Liz winked.

  “Sinful?”

  “Haven’t you heard that an ounce of donut in is an ounce of donut on?”

  Ronni laughed. “Haven’t heard that one.”

  “It’s something to keep in mind, at least for people like me.” She obviously noticed Ronni’s puzzled look and explained. “People who gain weight even looking at a chocolate donut.” She smiled. “Shall we go to the lounge? Doubt anyone else will be there this period. I think we’re the only two teachers who have second period free.”

  “Lead on, McDuff.”

  “I was going to say, ‘Hmm, I’m the English teacher, and you’re quoting Shakespeare.’ But then again…our fields certainly are related.”

  “And as you know, the quote really is, ‘Lay on, McDuff,’ but it’s always being misquoted.”

  She laughed. “Will the real William Shakespeare please stand up?” She shook her head. “Okay, enough. What did you want to talk about?”

  They’d reached the door to the teacher’s lounge. Ronni held it open for Liz and then followed her inside. It was a beautiful place, but what else would one expect to find in a school like Watson-Collins? The floor was covered in tiles resembling marble, and the walls were a peaceful blue. Tasteful landscapes hung here and there.

  There was a kitchenette with a refrigerator, sink, and microwave, and constantly hot coffee. Along the other walls were the most comfortable easy chairs Ronni had ever sat in. It was never a good idea to sit in one of them too long. It was too easy to doze off.

  On the counter were donuts—including chocolate—Danish pastries, and scones. Liz grabbed a donut, a cup of coffee, and a napkin, while Ronni took a cherry scone, which she heated for a few seconds in the microwave, and also a cup of black coffee. Liz sat at a small table in the center of the room, and Ronni soon joined her.

  “I could spend the day here, just relaxing,” Liz said. “But to be trite about it—which an English teacher should never be!—life does go on.” She smiled. “What is it you wanted to talk about?”

  Ronni sat opposite her. “Sylvia Hawkins.”

  “One of the brightest students I’ve ever taught. Isn’t she great?”

  “So I always thought.”

  “Uh oh.” Liz leaned forward. “You’re going to dish her, are you?”

  Liz laughed. “Though that wasn’t the way I thought of it, I guess you’re right.”

  “You sound serious,” Liz told her.

  Ronni shook her head. “You know everyone in here thinks Sylvia is the perfect student? Intelligent, studious, polite.”

  “As any teacher will tell you, the ideal high school student,” Liz answered. She was a thin woman, almost to the point of emaciation, and about ten years older than Ronni. Her hair was tinged with gray, and she wore thick-lensed glasses. “But obviously, something interfered with that perception.”

  “You’re right,” Ronni answered. “Today, for the first time, the acting class met in the auditorium where we started a unit on improv. Each of the students was to go onstage and portray an emotion.”

  “Sounds like fun,” Liz answered.

  “I think at least most of the class enjoyed it.” She shrugged. “But the point is that just as Millie came offstage onto the floor of the auditorium, Sylvia turned sideways in her seat. She was next to the aisle. And tripped Millie.”

  “An accident?”

  “So I thought?” Ronni said and frowned. “But then as I was gathering up my things after class, I heard a group of kids talking. They mentioned a lot of things Sylvia supposedly had done. Name calling, physical harm.”

  Liz seemed puzzled. “I don’t understand.”

  “They talked about how Sylvia always called people names. For instance, Millie said, Sylvia always calls her Piggy.”

  “And that really gets to Millie, I’ll bet. She is awfully sensitive about her weight.”

  Ronni nodded. “It does. She talked to me once about how hard she tried to lose weight but just couldn’t.”

  “Poor girl. But you know, she’s not that much overweight, is she?”

  “I think she’s like an anorexic person who never thinks she’s thin enough.”

  Liz nodded. “Good analogy.” She took a bite of her doughnut and a sip of coffee. “Anyhow, what happened?”<
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  “The kids started talking about how Sylvia pushed a boy down the steps. I don’t know him. His name, I think they said, is Justin Sears.”

  “But that was an accident!”

  “Not according to what the kids are saying.”

  Liz shook her head. “Maybe they’re just jealous?”

  “I hope it is something like that. I’d hate to think Sylvia is the sort of person they described.” Ronni took another swallow of coffee, followed by another bite of her scone. “So anyhow, I’d like to ask a favor.”

  “Of course,” Liz answered.

  “Sylvia’s in one of your classes, isn’t she?”

  “Yes, senior English,” Liz agreed.

  “Will you please keep your eyes and ears open when she’s around? See if anything unusual happens.”

  “Like her trying to trip someone?” Liz asked.

  “Exactly,” Ronni answered. “Or even kids talking about her.”

  “Hmmm…”

  “What is it?”

  “That would make me a sort of spy, wouldn’t it?”

  “Yes, I suppose it would,” Ronni said. “But I think it’s for a good reason. To try to stop any of the negative things, like the kids say Sylvia does, from happening in the future. If Sylvia is bullying or abusing students in any way, I think it’s important to do something about it. And if all this is true, maybe Sylvia could do with some counseling.”

  Liz heaved a deep sigh, paused for a moment, and then nodded. “I’ll keep an eye on things.”

  The rest of the day passed without incident until Ronni was leaving to go home. She stopped at her office.

  Unlike at most schools, each faculty member had an office, all beautifully furnished with a glass-topped desk, tasteful artwork on the walls, a recliner, a desk chair for the teacher, and three straight-backed, but cushioned chairs, for student conferences. Often, Ronni spent free periods here, working on lesson plans or checking homework. Now she left her books and lesson plans on her desk, left the office, and locked the door.

  As she walked down the hall toward the stairs, she heard someone crying. She wondered who was so upset to be crying as hard as she was and what the problem was. She turned left toward the stairs when she saw Millie huddled in the corner. She rushed toward her.

  “Millie!” she called. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  “Oh, Ms. Adams. I’m sorry. I hoped no one would see me.”

  “For heaven’s sake, why are you sorry?” She leaned backwards against the railing above the first floor.

  Millie could hardly talk; she was sobbing so hard. “For making a fool of myself. For standing here where I might know someone would find me.”

  “You’re certainly not making a fool of yourself.”

  “I wanted to be where no one would see me. I was going to leave after a few minutes. After I was pretty sure everyone else—all the other kids, I mean—had left.”

  “You want to tell me about it?” Ronni asked, her voice filled with concern.

  Millie swallowed hard and shook her head. “It’s nothing.”

  “You’re sure about that?”

  Tears ran down Millie’s face as she looked at Ronni, who quickly moved toward Millie and embraced her. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it. But I’ll be glad to listen.”

  “She’s always calling me names.” Millie stepped back.

  “Who is calling you names?” Ronni asked, sure she already knew.

  “This other girl…and her friends.”

  “That’s certainly not right.”

  “I can’t take it anymore. I just can’t take it. She’s always calling me Piggy. Going ‘Piggy’ and ‘oink, oink.’” Millie started to sob even harder. “Oh, Ms. Adams, I’ve tried everything. Every diet I can find. All kinds of exercises. Even skipping meals. But nothing works. I lose a pound and then gain it right back.”

  “First of all, Miss Petrosky…” Ronni’s tone was light, “you are not fat.” She shrugged. “Maybe a little bit overweight, I admit. But so what? So are a lot of other people.”

  “I don’t want to be fat!” Millie countered. “I try so hard not to be, and then she calls me that name!”

  “I wish you would tell me who this is. I could try to do something about it.”

  “Everyone thinks she’s such a saint. All the teachers, I mean. But all the kids know what she’s really like. She’s horrid to other kids, just plain mean. And she loves it.”

  Two girls came down the hallway and saw Millie crying. They stopped for a moment and started to giggle.

  These, of course, were two of Sylvia’s sycophants. “What do you think is so funny?” Ronni asked, her tone hard and clipped.

  One of the two, a member of her acting class, stared at her. “You wouldn’t understand,” she said, snootily.

  Now, Ronni was really angry. She was about to lace into them when they hurried on down the stairs.

  Ronni turned to Millie. “After that, you don’t need to tell me who’s calling you names. It’s the same person who deliberately tried to trip you, isn’t it? Sylvia Hawkins.”

  Millie was taken aback. “You know she did that deliberately? Tried to trip me?” She sounded astonished. “But I thought all the teachers…”

  Ronni smiled. “Maybe Sylvia isn’t as skillful at hiding things as she thinks she is.” She sighed. “I do know that something is going to have to be done about this.”

  By now Millie had stopped sobbing. “I have to go. Mom is picking me up, and I’m sure she wonders already what’s holding me up.”

  “I’m sorry,” Ronni told her.

  “I know,” Millie answered as she turned and hurried down the steps.

  Chapter 3

  Ronni lived in the Hillcrest area of San Diego, a few blocks from the zoo. She had been lucky to find a second-floor apartment in a new building. It was comfortable, and the rent was much lower than she’d expected it to be.

  She parked in her space in front of the building and unlocked the gate to the complex. As she walked toward the steps that led to the second floor, she heard someone call her name. It was her downstairs neighbor, Rose Regent, a retired clinical psychologist, who lived directly underneath Ronni’s apartment.

  Ronni paused. “Hi, Rose. How are you?”

  “I’m great—as usual. But you look like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.” She chuckled. “I can’t but help visualize you as Atlas climbing the stairs to his apartment.”

  Ronni smiled. “Actually,” she said, tongue in cheek, “I think he was climbing a mountain, wasn’t he?”

  Rose’s face took on a look of mock seriousness. “You may be right. In fact, I think it was Icarus who climbed the stairs to the top of the Empire State Building, that is, before he jumped.”

  “Hmmm. Very well could be,” Ronni answered.

  “At any rate, I have some cinnamon rolls. Fresh out of the oven. Thought you might like one… or two.”