A Lesson in Foul Play: A Cozy Mystery Book

by Cynthia Raye

  “I don’t follow,” Peter told Ronni.

  “She said they always got into fights—arguments—every morning, and she couldn’t concentrate.”

  “How did anyone discover she was there?” Rose asked.

  Ronni explained that she tried to sneak out when she discovered something was wrong, and no one was allowed inside. “Apparently, someone saw her and told Emma Miller, who told Liz Lindquist and me. And later Millie herself admitted to us what she’d done. And I felt we had no choice but to tell the police.”

  “And they came and arrested her,” Peter said.

  “They did. I let them use my office. And they were really… brutal is the only word to describe it. They treated her as if she were guilty and made fun of her reaction to being told she was under arrest.”

  “I’m sorry,” Rose said. “It must have been difficult for you.”

  Ronni nodded. “But think of poor Millie. Being escorted out in front of everyone who were still at the school. I feel so sorry for her.” She glanced at Rose and Peter. “Before the police came, Millie tried to call her mom and dad. Neither picked up. Her dad didn’t come to school today since there were no classes.”

  “How old is Millie?” Rose asked.

  “I’m not sure, but I believe she’s eighteen.”

  “Legally responsible then. Not a minor in the eyes of the law,” Rose responded. “Too bad. Otherwise, this could be handled as a case for juvenile court.”

  “Unfortunately,” Ronni agreed, “she’s on her own, particularly since she couldn’t get in touch with her parents.”

  “You know,” Peter said, “I’d be glad to talk with her. Of course, I’m not a criminal attorney, but until she has one, maybe I can help explain her options and answer any questions.”

  Ronni felt a rush of affection. “That’s very nice of you, Peter.”

  “No problem. Any time is fine with me. Later this afternoon or this evening.”

  “Why don’t I call and see if it’s possible to talk with her?” Ronni asked.

  Peter nodded. Ronni knew the number by heart after the calls she’d already made. The same voice answered as had the previous times. Ronni explained the situation and the woman connected her to Detective Kolonich.

  “This is Ronni Adams,” she told him.

  “I know.” He sounded surly.

  “My friend is an attorney. He wants me to find out if Millie would like to talk to him. Now please understand, she didn’t ask for him, but he volunteered. Most likely, it would be a one-time visit. Is that possible?”

  “Give me a minute,” Kolonich answered. “I’ll ask my partner what he thinks and be right back.” The phone was silent. Then she heard Kolonich’s voice. “It’s highly unusual… since she hasn’t had time even to call anyone. We’re in the middle of the booking process. But let me ask her.” Again, silence. Finally, he came back online. “She still hasn’t talked with her parents, so she’d like to see your friend. And any time, say after an hour or so, is fine.”

  Ronni told Peter what Kolonich had said.

  “An hour and a half? What do you think?” Peter said.

  “Sounds fine to me.”

  Ronni turned back to the phone. “Ninety minutes? That would make it—” She glanced at the time on her phone. “That would make it about four-thirty.”

  “We’ll expect you then.”

  The bell to the complex rang.

  “Must be our pizza,” Peter said.

  ***

  “Ms. Adams!” Millie said. “I didn’t know you’d be here too.”

  “Hello, Millie. How are you doing?”

  “I’m scared. I’m really scared.”

  “It’s going to be okay.” They were talking with a glass barrier between them. “Millie, this is my friend, Peter.”

  “Mr. Jackson!” Millie answered. “I didn’t know you were the attorney who was coming to see me.”

  “Of course!” Peter answered. “Somehow your name didn’t click with me. Of course, I know your mom and dad. He’s a teacher at Watson-Collins. We became acquainted years ago at one of the school’s fall get-togethers.”

  “I remember. I was a little girl then. In middle school.” Her eyes were wet with tears. “I’m so glad you’re the one who came to see me.”

  “Let me tell you something first, though,” Peter said. “I’m not a criminal defense attorney. Instead, I’m an estate attorney. I volunteered to see you to try to explain the sort of thing you might expect—that is, if you are going to hire an attorney to handle your case.”

  “I hope I am. But I still haven’t heard from my parents. I don’t know where they could be or what could be happening. Mom’s usually home; she works part-time as a secretary for a billing company. But she wasn’t scheduled to work today. My dad—like I told Ms. Adams—shuts himself inside his office to work and doesn’t take his cell phone with him. He doesn’t want to be interrupted.”

  “Well, at any rate,” Peter said, “do you have any questions? I can try to answer them.”

  “What happens next?”

  “Have you been formally charged?” Peter asked. “That means have you appeared in court yet?”

  “No. Am I supposed to?”

  “By the time they brought you here, it was probably too late for you to appear before a judge. I’m sure that will happen tomorrow. It’s then that you’ll be officially charged.”

  “You mean that’s when I’ll be found guilty!” She sounded panicked.

  Peter shook his head vigorously. “No, no, no! That would be determined much later, after a jury trial, I’m sure.”

  “What happens when I appear in front of the judge?”

  “The judge will tell you that you’re charged with murder.”

  “But I didn’t do it.” She broke into sobs. “I didn’t. Why do they think I did?”

  “Millie.” Peter’s voice was soothing. “They don’t necessarily believe you did it. Maybe they do, and maybe they don’t. This is just part of the process of being arrested. You’ll be charged with committing the murder. It’s a formality.”

  “How long will it take before I can go home?” Millie’s face was scrunched up and red. Obviously, Ronni, thought, she was experiencing a lot of stress. Well, it certainly was a stressful situation, and she was still a child. Legally an adult but still a high school girl.

  “That depends on how backed up things are. It’s impossible to say without knowing how many other cases are ahead of yours.”

  “Can you find that out?” Millie swallowed hard, almost as if she were about to start choking.

  “It’s possible. Though that would probably be up to the attorney you hire. Like I said, I’m just here to try to ease things a little for you.”

  “Millie!” someone screamed. “Millie, where are you?”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am,” a voice said. “You can’t go in there right now. We usually only allow one person at a time to talk with a prisoner.”

  “A prisoner! Oh, my God.”

  “Take it easy, ma’am,” the other voice said.

  “It’s Mom!” Millie said. “They finally got in touch. I wonder if Daddy’s here too.”

  The door to the room popped open, and a man and woman stood just outside. Ronni recognized Millie’s parents immediately.”

  “Ronni!” Petrosky seemed astounded. “What are you doing here?” He shook his head as if to clear it. “Millie! Oh, honey, what happened?”

  “I insist you come with me!” the guard told Millie’s mom and dad, the one who’d told Millie’s parents they couldn’t come into the interview room.

  “Please!” Mrs. Petrosky pleaded. “Just a minute. It’s my daughter. I can’t believe it. How did this happen?”

  “I didn’t do anything, Mama. I’d never—” She began to cry so hard she couldn’t speak.

  “Of course, you wouldn’t. I know that.” She tried to laugh, but it came out half sob. “I’ve known you for a long time now, honey. Now haven’t I? I know you ne
ver could… never could murder someone.”

  “Peter,” Ronni said, “let’s leave. Okay.”

  He nodded and then turned back to Millie. “I’m sorry I wasn’t of more help. But it’s best now since your parents are here that you engage a criminal attorney to handle your case. Okay.”

  Millie nodded. “Thank you. Thank you so much!”

  Peter smiled. “Of course. Now remember, if you’re innocent—which I do believe you are—you probably have nothing to worry about.”

  “You promise?”

  “You take good care, Millie,” Peter answered. “If you like, I’ll be glad to drop in and see you again.”

  “Me too,” Ronni said. “Any time I’m free. Which means any time I’m not at Watson-Collins.”

  Ronni and Peter rose from their chairs and left the room.

  “Thank you,” Petrosky said as they left. “Thanks for caring about Millie and coming to visit her. We didn’t know. My wife spent the afternoon at a movie theater with friends, and I was working. It seems we both had our phones turned off. I’m sorry.”

  “It is too bad,” Ronni said. “But now you’re here.”

  “You know,” Ronni said as she and Peter headed toward his car, “what if it wasn’t a student who murdered Sylvia?”

  “You think it was one of the teachers?” Peter asked as they reached the car.

  Ronni stopped and frowned. “I would hate to think so. Though we certainly can’t rule that out, can we?”

  “But I thought all the teachers thought Sylvia was the perfect student.”

  “Maybe one of them found out differently, like I did.”

  Peter opened the door for Ronni, and she climbed inside. He circled the car and took his place behind the steering wheel.

  “But from the way you described Sylvia’s behavior, I can’t imagine her doing anything to a teacher to make the person angry enough or upset enough to murder her.” He turned on the engine and guided the car onto the street.

  Ronni nodded. “I’m sure you’re right. Every time she was around teachers, she apparently became the perfect angel. But there are a lot of others who work at Watson-Collins.”

  “Like maintenance people, cafeteria workers—”

  “Guards, administration. Maybe one or more of these people was in the school when Sylvia arrived and took advantage of it. An adult who’d been one of her targets.”

  Peter frowned. “That sort of thing never occurred to me.”

  “Nor to me either. Till just now.” She leaned back in the seat as Peter headed toward Hillcrest. “I guess I have a lot of investigating to do, don’t I?”

  “You and not the police?” He said, testily.

  “I’m sure the police are on it already. I’ll bet by now they’ve questioned everyone who works at the school.”

  “Have they questioned you?”

  “No, come to think of it. Except at first when they talked with Liz, Emma Miller. and me just after I called them.”

  Chapter 20

  The next morning Ronni decided she’d start her investigating by talking with the guard at the main entrance. “’Morning, Tom,” she said as she approached the front door.

  “’Morning.”

  “I have a question, if you don’t mind taking a minute,” Ronni said.

  He smiled. “Sure, go ahead and ask.” He was a tall man, slender, with a bushy mustache and she’d judge close to forty.

  “I was just thinking yesterday afternoon that maybe the person who murdered Sylvia Hawkins isn’t a student. It could be anyone who’s generally here, anyone who works for the school.”

  “Tragic, isn’t it?” His mouth turned down at the corners. “I know I’d be totally devastated if something happened to one of my kids. Of course, they’re still young—eight and ten—but what happened to Sylvia Hawkins shows how transient life is, doesn’t it? Everything’s fine one day, and the next day… Well, you know what I mean.”

  “It certainly makes you reflect on your own mortality, doesn’t it?” She pursed her lips. “Having this sort of thing happen to someone you know?”

  “What is it you wanted to ask me?” Tom said.

  “I wondered if you know of anyone who had any problems with Sylvia. Any adults. A lot of the other kids certainly did, but like I said, maybe it wasn’t a student who murdered her.”

  “I don’t know of anyone… well, except one of the other security guards.” He shrugged. “I probably shouldn’t be mentioning it. It’s his business, and I shouldn’t stick my nose in.”

  “I understand that,” Ronni answered. “But would you at least tell me who it was? I’d like to talk to him.”

  “I… I feel a little uncomfortable doing that. Like I said, it’s his business, not mine.”

  “But maybe it will help somehow in finding out who the murderer is.”

  Tom frowned. “You don’t think it could be Bob, do you?” His face turned red. “Damn it!”

  “What?” Ronni was startled.

  “I didn’t mean to say his name.”

  “So it’s Bob.”

  Tom sighed. “Oh, man, I didn’t mean to say who it was.”

  Ronni put a hand on Tom’s shoulder. “Look, Tom, I’ll approach him as I did you. I won’t let on that I know he and Sylvia had a disagreement of some sort.”

  “Thank you. I really appreciate your doing that. I wouldn’t want to get in bad with him. He’s a good friend. He and his wife and Trudy and I often get together—go to a movie, bowl, whatever. I don’t want to mess that up.”

  Ronni smiled and removed her hand. “No problem. And thanks very much.”

  Tom shook his head. “Thanks… I think.”

  Ronni smiled. “You got it.”

  As usual, that day Ronni was early and still had a lot of time before school was in session. As a first-year teacher, she was always concerned that things run smoothly and that she was fully prepared for her classes. She planned to go over lesson plans, add details, if necessary, and mentally go over everything she wanted to accomplish.

  However, Dalton Hostetler met her at the door and said there would be an assembly where the school’s counselor would address the students. After that, abbreviated classes would begin. But it was suggested the faculty not try to teach but rather to talk to the classes about the murder, to help reassure students that everything was going to be okay.

  “All right,” Ronni answered. Still, she needed to drop her things at her office.

  As soon as she opened the door, she saw a white envelope that had been shoved underneath. What on earth could it be? she wondered. She bent down and started to pick it up and then stopped. Fingerprints! What if it had to do with the murder? What if the murderer himself or herself left it? And what if the person had left fingerprints on it or whatever was inside? If so, she didn’t want to mess them up. She grabbed a tissue from her purse and a letter opener from a desk drawer.