by Cynthia Raye
“Can I talk to my dad first?”
Ronni and Liz looked at each other. “I suppose that’s all right. Is he here today?”
“I forgot. He didn’t come in today!” Tears ran down her cheeks. “This is terrible.” She had a pleading look in her eye. “Can I at least call Mom and explain?”
“Why don’t you do that while I call the police?” Ronni asked, her voice filled with compassion. Millie looked like a trapped animal, Ronni thought. Her heart went out to the girl. But she and Liz just couldn’t let this go. “I’ll give you a few minutes. All right?”
“Okay.” Millie’s voice was barely audible. She punched in a number on the phone while all three waited. After a few seconds, Millie turned off the phone. “She’s not picking up.”
“What about your dad?” Liz asked. “Can you call him?”
“I can try, but he probably won’t answer,” Millie said, sounding desperate. She punched in a number again. A moment later she disconnected. “He’s not answering either. But he rarely does. He almost never uses his phone. In fact, I’ll bet he’s in his office right now, and the phone is in his and mom’s bedroom.”
“I’ve got to call,” Ronni said. “I’m sorry.”
“I know.” she hung her head.
“San Diego Police, Las Montañas Precinct,” a familiar voice answered. “How may I direct your call?”
“This is Ronni Adams again. The teacher at Watkins-Collins.”
“Yes, Ms. Adams.”
“I need to talk to one of the detectives who was here yesterday, either Solomon or Kolonich.”
“One moment, please.”
“Kolonich here,” a voice answered. “What can I do for you, Ms. Adams?
“I think you’d better come to the school. I have one of the students here who admits being inside the school when the murder was committed.”
“You’re certain?”
“Of course,” Ronni answered. Why wouldn’t she be certain?
“We’ll be right there,” Kolonich said.
The police are coming right away,” Ronni told Millie. “Want to try to reach your parents again before they get here?”
Millie dialed, disconnected, and dialed again. She shook her head. “Why isn’t Mom answering?”
“Sorry,” Ronni told her.
Minutes later, Detectives Solomon and Kolonich strode into the cafeteria.
Solomon looked from Liz to Ronni. “Is this the young woman you called about?”
Ronni nodded.
The detective turned to Millie. “We need to ask you some questions.”
“Maybe it would be better to do that in my office,” Ronni suggested.
“Let’s do it,” Kolonich said. He turned to Millie. “You are Mildred Petrosky, right?”
Millie nodded. “Yes.” She sounded completely defeated.
“Come on, Millie,” Ronni said. “We don’t want other people to hear this, do we?” Already there were a lot of murmurs and gasps from those at other tables. Even the servers in the cafeteria line were staring.
Millie simply stared for a moment before answering. “No.”
Ronni stood. “All right then.”
“No need for me to be there,” Liz answered.
Ronni nodded and turned to the two policemen. “This way.” She led them down the hall to her office and unlocked the door. “Come on in,” she told Solomon and Kolonich, who followed her inside. “No reason for me to stay here, is there?” Ronni asked.
“We’d prefer you stay,” Solomon said. “We don’t expect any trouble. But you understand… It would be better to have another female present while we question Miss Petrosky.”
“All right then. I’ll stay.” She glanced at Millie. “Sorry,” she said.
Millie gave a slight nod.
“Please sit down,” Ronni said. There were three chairs in front of her desk.
“We’d rather stand,” Solomon said. He turned to Millie. “Sit,” he said, indicating the middle chair.”
Millie seemed startled. Quickly, she sat down. Ronni walked around to her desk chair and also sat down. Solomon and Kolonich each stood at a corner of the desk looking down at Millie.
Ronni had the irrelevant feeling that this would make a great stage picture. Usually, of course, a director should avoid having a central character positioned with her back to the audience. But this was different. This showed the control the two other figures had, the dominance. Then she was ashamed of herself for such a thought. This was real life, not a representation of reality, certainly not theater. Millie could be in serious trouble.
Ronni tended to believe Millie’s recounting of the morning. No, she believed her without qualification. But what if she were wrong? Could Millie actually be the murderer? She’d had no choice but to wait and see how things played out.
“Now, Mildred,” Solomon said.
“‘Millie, please,” the girl said. It was almost a whisper.
“What!” Kolonich said.
Ronni intervened. “She wants people to call her Millie. She doesn’t like to be called Mildred.”
Kolonich shrugged, a disgusted look on his face. “Whatever.”
“All right, Millie.” Solomon exaggerated the pronunciation of the name. “First we’re going to read you your rights.”
Millie nodded, swallowing hard.
“You have the right…” He continued reading her the Miranda rights.
“Now,” he said, once he finished,“we get down to business. “We understand that you were inside the school when Sylvia Hawkins was murdered. Is that correct?”
“Yes.” The voice was very soft.
“I can’t hear you,” Kolonich said. “Speak up.”
“I’m sorry.” Tears flooded her face.
“I think you’d better tell us about it,” Kolonich said.
Ronni listened as Millie told them the exact same thing she had told her and Liz.
“Is there anyone who can back up your story?” Solomon asked, his voice threatening.
“No.” Millie sobbed. “Of course, I was here by myself. No one else was around.”
“So you say,” Solomon told her. “But without proof, you have a problem, don’t you?” His tone was sarcastic.
Millie didn’t answer.
“Well, I’m afraid then, that we’re going to have arrest you on suspicion of the murder of Sylvia Hawkins.”
Millie’s face turned completely white. She gagged and clasped her stomach.
“I see you’re quite a practitioner of the theatric arts, aren’t you?” Solomon said.
Ronni was appalled. My God! She thought. They were arresting Millie on suspicion of murder. What did they expect! It made her angry. She was about to object when Solomon and Kolonich pulled Millie to her feet. “Are we going to have to handcuff you, or will you behave?” Solomon asked.
Millie sobbed almost convulsively. “I… don’t… need…. handcuffs,” she blurted out.
“All right then, come along with us,” Kolonich said. He turned to Ronni. “Thanks for the use of your office.” The two detectives ushered Millie out into the hallway.
Even though most students and staff had already left, rumors were flying by the time Ronni reached the cafeteria.
“Ms. Adams,” someone called. She turned to see a girl she didn’t know.
“Yes?” Ronni answered.
“Is it true that Millie Petrosky is the one who killed Sylvia?”
“I don’t think so,” Ronni answered honestly.
“But the police arrested her, didn’t they?” The student sounded almost disappointed.
“She’s a suspect, that’s all. I can’t tell you more.”
“I knew it!” the girl answered. “I always thought there was something a little strange about her.”
Ronni had heard enough. She hurried away. She wanted to tell Liz what had happened, and then she’d leave.
“Ms. Adams,” someone else called. It was Emma, headed straight toward her.
“Yes, Emma.” Ronni was getting impatient. She was upset at Millie’s arrest and just wanted to get away from school.
“The police arrested her, didn’t they? Millie, I mean.” Her voice sounded almost regretful, and Ronni wondered why. After all, Emma was the one who first told her and Liz that Millie had been in the school when the murder happened.
“Yes, they’ve arrested her,” Ronni answered.
“I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything about… you know… about her being here yesterday.”
“No, Emma, don’t blame yourself. It’s a good thing that you told us what you’d heard.”
“But I feel sorry for Millie. What if she didn’t do it? What if she really did have another reason for being here?”
“Then the police will find that out,” Ronni answered. She empathized with Emma. She could understand how she might feel like a traitor. But again, the whistle-blowing was a good thing. Or at least she hoped it was. But what if Millie were innocent? What if the police failed in finding the real murderer? That meant Millie would be incarcerated, probably for the rest of her life, for a crime she didn’t commit. Ronni thought of a recent episode she’d seen of America’s Got Talent. One of the contestants had been wrongly convicted of a crime. Archie somebody or other. And he’d spent thirty-six years in prison for a crime he didn’t commit. Such things happened. They could happen again.
“I’m so sorry,” Emma said. Tears appeared in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“It’ll be okay,” Ronni said. “I’m sure it will.” But she wasn’t sure.
Liz sat at the same table in the cafeteria. “So what happened?” she asked as Ronni entered the cafeteria.
“They arrested her as a suspect,” Ronni said, feeling dejected as she sat down. She’d stay for just a moment or two and then call it a day. By now, she and Liz were the only ones in the cafeteria, except for a couple of workers.
“I really believed what she said,” Liz answered. “You never know, do you?”
“I still think she’s innocent,” Ronni said. “And there does have to be more proof, I would think, before she’s found guilty. And so far, all they have is some pretty thin circumstantial evidence.”
“I hope you’re right.” She shrugged. “I gather that you were there when the police questioned her.”
“I was, unfortunately.” She shook her head. “I’d rather not have been.”
“I suppose I can understand. I wouldn’t want to be there either—as you saw.”
“The thing is,” Ronni said, “they were pretty nasty with Millie, who was extremely upset. Instead of empathizing with her or even understanding how she was feeling, they accused her of overacting. Of what they called being ‘theatrical.’ It teed me off. You should have seen Millie. I thought for a moment she was either going to have convulsions or pass out. And that’s when they made fun of her.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “Actually, I think Detective Solomon has some sort of personality defect. One moment he seems the rational cop; the next he’s mean, and a real…I hate to say the word, but it begins with the letter ‘b.’”
“I’m sorry,” Liz said.
“I know,” Ronni answered.
Chapter 19
It was a little after two when Ronni pulled into her parking space. She spied Peter’s car parked nearby. Apparently, he’s just arrived, she thought, because he was getting out of his car.
Ronni turned off the engine and got out of her own car just as Peter walked up to her.
“Great timing,” he said.
“Maybe it has something to do with not missing entrance cues as an actor. Never did miss one, you know. Was never late. That’s me: good ole dependable Ronni.”
“Even if you had been late, I’d have forgiven you.” He gave her a hug. “So is everything okay?”
“Not really. Let’s go on in, and I’ll tell you about it.” She walked to the gate, Peter beside her, and unlocked it. Rose was just stepping outside her apartment when Ronni and Peter entered the complex.
“How did things go today?” Rose asked. Again she sat at the table outside her apartment, an open book in front of her. “I’m sure the kids appreciated your being there for them.”
“At least I was able to talk to a lot of students.”
She indicated the empty chairs. “Sit down.”
“I’m sure you’ve had lunch,” Ronni said.
“A cup of tea and a cookie. I was so engrossed in the book I’m reading I didn’t want to stop and fix anything.”
“Well,” Peter told her. “We haven’t eaten either. I asked Ronni earlier about calling for pizza. What do you say?”
“Pizza, hmmm?” Rose answered. “Sounds wonderful.”
“Good,” Peter said. “What sort do you like?”
“Whatever you want—except anchovies. Can’t stand anchovies.”
Peter took out his cell phone and dialed. “Large pizza,” he said after a moment. “With everything.” Pause. “Yes, please,” he answered and gave them Ronni’s address. “All right,” he said to Ronni and Rose. “They’ll be here in twenty minutes, or at least that’s what they say.”
“So,” Rose said. “Tell us about your day.”
“It was fine… up until an hour or so ago.” Ronni was still upset at the way the two detectives had treated Millie.
“What happened?” Peter asked, his face filled with concern.
“They arrested one of my students,” Ronni told them, her voice flat.
“For the murder?” Peter asked. He hit the heel of his hand against the side of this head. “Dumb question. Of course, it was for the murder.”
Rose gave him a sympathetic look.
“Yes,” Ronni said. “We found out that she was in the building at the time of the murder.” She shook her head. “It’s all circumstantial; I don’t think she did it.”
“You think she’s innocent?” Rose asked. “Then why did they arrest her?”
“She couldn’t prove she wasn’t the murderer, I suppose. It seems she often came in early to study. Yesterday a lot of the teachers were giving exams. She said she often came in to study for mid-terms or finals because she could be alone. It was always quiet, she said, and she could concentrate better than at home.”
“Isn’t the school locked up during the night?” Rose asked. “If not, they’re asking for trouble. Even if they have guards.”
“Her dad is a teacher at the school. She took his key once, without his knowing it, and had a copy made. So her parents didn’t know she was doing this. They thought she was going to a café to study…to get away from her two little sisters, who, she claimed, made it difficult for her to study at home.”