by Cynthia Raye
“We don’t know that,” Ronni answered.
“But,” a boy said, “the police arrested her. I saw them leading her outside.”
“Being arrested doesn’t mean you’re automatically guilty of a crime,” Ronni told them. At least this class didn’t want to talk about establishing a memorial in Sylvia’s name. Actually, she didn’t see why there should be one, but she’d kept her opinion to herself. Why establish a memorial for someone who was certainly not a nice person? It was like… like a memorial to Adolf Hitler. Well, certainly not that extreme. But she didn’t understand the thinking. Sylvia had bullied and taunted so many students that Ronni was surprised that anyone, asidefrom the followers, wanted to honor her.
“Why arrest her then?” another student asked.
“She’s a suspect,” Ronni explained. “That means she is suspected of murdering Sylvia. Remember in American law, unlike in other countries—Mexico, for instance—you’re innocent till proven guilty. It’s up to a judge and jury to decide. Not the rest of us. In countries like Mexico, it’s just the opposite. You’re presumed guilty until proven innocent.”
“But isn’t it all right to have opinions?” the boy asked.
“Of course, it is! But they should remain just that—opinions,” Ronni said.
“What’s going to happen to her?” another girl asked.
“She’s being held at the local jail and has been booked for the murder. She’ll probably go to trial, unless she can prove she’s innocent beforehand. And all they have now is circumstantial evidence. That means there’s no real proof that she’s the guilty person.”
“If there’s no proof, why did they arrest her?” someone asked.
“Because so far,” Ronni explained, “she’s the only student, at least that we know of, except for Sylvia and Emma Miller, who were in the school early.” She turned to look at Emma. “Isn’t that right?”
“Yes, no one but Sylvia and me and Millie.”
“What do you think, Ms. Adams? Is she guilty or not?” It was the Mitch, the boy who sat directly in front of her desk.
“What do I think?” She sighed and shrugged. “I don’t think she did it.”
“Why not?” Mitch asked.
“There’s no proof, and I believe what she said about coming in early to study.”
“How could that happen?” another student asked. “How could they arrest her without really knowing she’s the murderer?”
Ronni related what Millie had told her. “That’s all I know.”
Finally, the period ended. One more class—advanced directing—and it would be time for lunch.
Ronni knew the kids needed to talk about the murder and Millie’s arrest. She didn’t want to discourage them, but it was stressful. During the second period, she had gone to the teachers’ lounge just to get away for a while from the stress of the situation. She was glad when Liz joined her.
“I’m glad you stopped in, Liz,” Ronni said. “How did it go for you first period?”
“All the kids wanted to talk about was who murdered Sylvia. It seems a few of them think Millie did it, but most, I believe, think it’s someone else. They mentioned several names—like Justin Sears and Ginny Sanders, which I tried to discourage them from doing…but not very successfully.” She shook her head. “It seems you were right. Sylvia Hawkins was two different people, in effect. The ideal student versus the bully. Almost unthinkable. But I certainly had my eyes opened.”
“I wonder if this sort of thing came up in other classes. The kids talking about what sort of person Sylvia actually was,” Ronni said.
“I’m sure it did,” Liz answered. “After all, we were to spend the period talking about the murder.”
“That means the other teachers are finding out what she was really like. They’re undoubtedly as shocked, as I know I was.”
“I was too,” Liz answered. “I never would have believed it.”
“But now we have to accept it as true, don’t we?”
Ronni thought third period would never end. She knew the students were still very upset. She knew they had a lot of questions, but it was extremely stressful.
She decided that she was going to go to Petrosky’s room and see if Millie actually had left her cup there. She hoped no one would notice what she was doing. She didn’t want to have to explain.
The end of the hall that contained Petrosky’s office was dark. That made it easier. She glanced down right and left to see if anyone was watching her. The coast was clear. She quickly opened the door and slipped inside. Immediately, she saw it. A coffee cup sitting on the corner of the desk. So that part was true. She’d have to call Peter and tell him. She certainly wasn’t going to touch anything. The police could do that. She slipped back out of the classroom and hurried to her office where she punched in Peter’s number.
“Yes, Ronni,” he answered. “Did you have a chance to look in Petrosky’s room?”
She realized she was perspiring. She was certainly not cut out to be an undercover detective. Her fingers were trembling, and her heart beating must faster than normal.
“I did,” she told him. “The coffee cup is there, just like she said… though I still don’t know what that proves.”
“I suppose,” Peter answered, it doesn’t prove anything, except that it helps bolster her story.”
“I hope so,” Ronni answered. “Will you tell the police?”
“If you like—though you’re the one who found the cup.”
“I’ve already dealt with the police one time today already. Twice is too much.”
He chuckled. “Okay. So now what?”
“To the cafeteria to grab some food before my next class. And maybe to try to talk with a few of the faculty and staff.”
“Wow! Super Lady.”
Ronni laughed. “I wish!”
“So, where would you like to go for dinner tonight?”
“Oh, we’re going out, are we?”
“Sorry for assuming. I—”
“I’m kidding, Peter. But let’s choose a quiet place. I have a lot to tell you about my day.”
Chapter 24
Liz was sitting at their usual table when Ronni entered the cafeteria.
“Thought you weren’t going to show up,” Liz said.
“Too hungry to pass up lunch,” she said, “and I had to do a couple of things before I ate.” She crossed to the serving area and picked up a tray. In a moment she was back at the table, her tray loaded with food. She glanced at Liz and laughed. “Okay, maybe I overdid it!” She nodded toward her plate. “But I am hungry!”
“I didn’t say a thing,” Liz told her.
“At least verbally. But I saw that look on your face. That ‘how-can-one-person-eat-that-much-food’ look.
Liz burst out laughing. “Guess you got me on that one.” She sobered. “Any news about Millie?”
“That’s the reason I’m a little late to lunch,” Ronni said, taking a bite of green beans. “It seems that Millie can prove she was upstairs studying the morning of the murder.”
Liz was surprised. “Tell me.”
“When she realized something was going on—the noise outside—she wanted to… ‘escape,’ I guess is a good word. Anyhow, she didn’t want anyone to see her in the building. She was, after all, deceiving her parents.”
“Okay, so she didn’t want to get into trouble at home,” Liz answered, “and knew she better leave since something was happening. Except she didn’t know what.”
“Right,” Ronni said. “Anyhow, she had stopped at the café for a take-out coffee. But she was in such a hurry to get out of the building that she left the cup on her dad’s desk.”
Liz frowned. “But surely the janitorial staff cleaned the room since then.”
Ronni smiled. “You would think so, wouldn’t you?” She shook her head. “But no. It seems her dad had the policy of sometimes filling the chalkboard with equations to use the following day. When he did that, he asked the janitors not to clean
his classroom because he was afraid they woulderase the stuff from the board. And, of course, he’s not in school today because of Millie.”
“Ah ha,” Liz answered. “I begin to see the light. So you went to his classroom to see if the abandoned cup was still there.”
“I did, and it was.” She sounded smug.
“But what does that prove?” Liz asked. “She could have… I hate to say it, but she could have come downstairs earlier, hit Sylvia with the statue, and gone back up again.”
“Possible, but I doubt she’d have had time to do that before Emma arrived. And as Emma told us, someone did see her coming down the stairs and sneaking outside after the murder.”
Liz nodded. “So it casts some doubt then.”
“That’s what we’re hoping.”
“So you told the police about the cup?” Liz asked.
“I told Peter. I’ve already had an encounter with the police today, and once a day is enough.”
“Oh? What happened?”
“Of course, you wouldn’t have heard about it,” Ronni told her.
Liz frowned in puzzlement. “About what?”
“Someone slid a note under my office door. I found it this morning and called the police.”
“A note?” Liz frowned. “What did it say?”
“It said the police were charging the wrong person with Sylvia’s murder.”
“Wow! I’m astounded,” Liz answered.
“The person went on to say that he or she knows who the murderer is but can’t say.”
“So you immediately called the police,” Liz said.
“I did indeed.”
“Who on earth could have written such a note? Do you think it’s true? Is there someone here who knows who murdered Sylvia? And why doesn’t the person tell who it was?”
“Maybe the murderer is aware that the other person knows. And the person who wrote the note is afraid.”
“I don’t know.” Liz shook her head. “Wouldn’t the very fact of writing such a note alert the murderer?”
“I’m sure you’re right.” Ronni frowned. “But maybe the writer’s conscience was saying they had to do it.”
“I don’t know,” Liz said. “Sounds a little fishy to me.”
Ronni looked up to see Emma Miller approaching the table.
“Emma, how are you?” Ronni asked.
“Better. I was very shaky yesterday. Every time I thought about Sylvia I teared up. It’s terrible. We didn’t always get along, but we were friends, at least of a sort.”
“Even though it wasn’t the best of relationships,” Ronni said, her voice filled with sympathy, “you were close to her.”
“Exactly.”
“Sit down,” Liz said.
Emma took the chair to the right of Ronni. “And my mom is just totally broken up about it. Like I said, she and Sylvia’s mom have been best friends for years. In fact, Mom spent much of the day with Sylvia’s parents. From what she told me, it was terrible.”
“I’m sure it was.”
“Anyhow, I heard about the note under your office door,” Emma said to Ronni.
“You did!”
“Yes. I wonder who could possibly have written it.”
“How on earth did you hear about it?” Ronni asked. “I didn’t think anyone else knew.”
“Oh, I saw the police leaving. I thought maybe they’d found some sort of evidence that showed Millie actually murdered Sylvia. So I asked.”
“And they answered you?” Liz asked. “I’m really surprised.”
“I think maybe it’s because I’m the person who found Sylvia. I was the first to see her lying there.” She broke into sobs. “Sorry. I’m really sorry.”
“No need to apologize,” Ronni said. “You’ve been through a lot.”
“Anyhow, they told me you’d found a note regarding the murder.”
“They told you what it said?” Ronni certainly hoped not. She wanted to keep it quiet to avoid a lot of questions. But come to think of it, she wondered, why the note was under her door and not someone else’s… like Dalton’s. That would seem more logical.
“Oh, no. I haven’t any idea what it said.” She looked at Ronni expectantly.
“I’d rather not say,” Ronni told her. “I hope you understand.”
“It didn’t threaten you or anything, did it?” Emma asked. “That would be terrible.”
“No, it had nothing to do with me.” She gave Emma a quick smile. “Thanks for caring.”
“Of course. You know, you’re my favorite teacher.” Emma’s face flushed. “Oops, I guess I shouldn’t say anything like that. I mean, I’m not trying to play teacher’s pet or anything.”
Ronni laughed. “It’s okay. And I think that actually it was a very nice thing to say.”
Emma stood up. “Need to get going.”
“Okay, Emma,” Ronni said. “Take care.” She turned to Liz. “Incidentally, it occurred to me that the person who murdered Sylvia isn’t necessarily a student.”
“You mean one of the teachers?” She looked astonished. “But all the faculty thought so highly of her.”
“Or so we think,” Ronni restored.
“Hmmm. I suppose she could have had some sort of problem with one of the teachers. But I certainly can’t imagine any of them wanting to murder her.”
“Nor can I, really,” Ronni admitted. “But there are a lot of other people who work here too.”
“Yes—administrative people, cafeteria staff and so on,” Liz answered.
“Well,” Ronni told her, “I decided I was going to ask around. See if anyone knows of any problems.”
“Between Sylvia and staff members, you mean?” Liz asked.
“Exactly.” She nodded. “Well, it turns out there was a problem…which was supposedly resolved, but I can’t be sure. It’s only on the word of the person she victimized.”
Liz frowned. “A staff member?”
Ronni nodded.
“A big enough problem to make the person want to murder her?” Liz asked in disbelief.
“Possibly.” She sighed. “It involves one of the guards. According to him, it started over a very simple thing. One day Sylvia, who up to this time apparent had been her ‘angel’ self with him, wanted to leave school in a hurry. I don’t know why.”
Liz leaned in closer to Ronni. “So what happened.”
“Apparently, Sylvia was behind a long line of kids—at least that’s what the guard told me—and tried to push her way to the front. The guard wouldn’t let her do it, and they got into an argument.”
“That hardly seems a reason for the guard to become so upset he murdered her.”
Ronni shook her head. “Oh, no, there’s much more to it than that.” She pursed her lips before continuing. “The guard told me that somehow Sylvia found out his phone number and called his wife.”