by Cynthia Raye
“His wife? I don’t understand.”
“According to the guard, Sylvia told her that the guard was cheating on her.”
“You’re kidding!”
“Uh uh. The wife apparently believed her, and the guard had a hard time convincing her it wasn’t true.”
“So you think maybe things aren’t resolved between the guard and his wife, and so he could have been so enraged or whatever that he killed her?”
“It’s a possibility, I think. But certainly I have no proof.”
“Unbelievable that Sylvia would stoop so low as to do something like that.”
“She’s done some awful things, but I think this is the absolute worst. At least of the things we know.”
“She was a conniving person, all right. Wow,” Liz said, “that just goes beyond anything I’d expect. If I were in similar circumstances, I think I’d be mad enough to commit murder.” She shook her head. “Whew.”
“I guess I’ll have to let the police know about this, won’t I?” Ronni slumped back in the chair and groaned. “More contact with Solomon and Kolonich.”
“Would Peter tell them for you?”
“Maybe… Anyhow, like I said, I’m going to keep asking other people—staff and faculty—if they know of any problems anyone, other than students, had with Sylvia.”
“If you like, I’ll be glad to ask around too,” Liz told her.
“That would be good.”
Liz hit the heel of her hand against her forehead. “I just thought of someone who had problems with Sylvia, a teacher, I mean. But I’m sure it all fizzled out.”
“What teacher.”
“Lisa Herbert.”
“The tech theater person?” She frowned. “She’s designing the set for The Glass Menagerie. We’ve met a couple of times to discuss what sort of setting would be appropriate.
“Anyhow,” Liz continued, “it involved Emma Miller.”
“Emma?” Ronni said. “What do you mean?”
“A couple of years ago, as I think you know, Sylvia tried to ruin Emma’s final scene design project. Emma, of course, claimed that she dropped it on the way to school, and that’s how it got all messed up.” She shrugged. “But for some reason—I don’t understand why—Lisa was sure Sylvia had damaged it.”
“How could she know that?” Ronni asked. “Or at least suspect it?”
“Apparently, she heard Sylvia talking to some of her followers, telling them that Emma had built this horrible model but that it was ruined before she could turn it in.”
“Wow!’
“So,” Liz said, “Lisa asked Sylvia about it. Asked her how she knew it was ruined. Then Sylvia supposedly went into the whole bit about how she and Emma were such good friends and how she stopped it at Emma’s house the day the models were due, and on and on.” Liz shook her head and then continued. “Lisa told me that the entire time Sylvia seemed to be gloating about it.”
“In other words,” Ronni said, “Sylvia didn’t maintain her facade of “sympathetic good girl”; for some reason she let the mask slip.”
Chapter 25
Peter took Ronni to an Italian restaurant in La Mesa, a small place with only six tables. It was one of his favorites, he said. The ravioli there, he told her, was the best he’d ever tasted. She’d never been to the restaurant before, rarely even to La Mesa. She had no reason to go there, she thought. But soon she decided she did have reason: The restaurant. Peter wasn’t exaggerating. It was intimate and attractive with colorful paintings on the wall and the usual checkered tablecloths and lighted candles sitting on each of the tables.
Ronni ordered vegetarian ravioli, and the only word to describe it, she thought, was ‘superb.’
After they finished eating, each ordered a cup of coffee. Until now, neither had said much.
“You first,” Peter said. “Tell me about your day.”
“You know about the note,” Ronni told him
“I do.”
“And I talked with one of the guards, who also had a problem with Sylvia. A big problem in which she did something horrendous.”
“What, for goodness sake?”
Ronni told him about Sylvia’s talking to the guard’s wife.
“That certainly seems to me a reason to totally lose it,” Peter said.
“But Bob—the guard—says everything is fine now. But I’m not sure. Then there’s the tech theater teacher who suspected her of trying to destroy Emma Miller’s final scene design project. But as I told Liz, that hardly seems a reason to murder someone.”
“Hard to tell what can set someone off,” Peter answered. “Maybe it was the final straw. You know, after a series of little things.”
“I suppose it could happen,” Ronni said as she took a sip of her coffee, “but so far as I know, Sylvia always tried to be the good little girl around any faculty members.” She leaned back in her chair. “So, tell me about your day.”
“The usual,” he told her. “At work, that is. Different clients, same sort of problems. But there is a development with Millie.”
“She’s been charged, I’m sure.”
“Yes, she has. But they set bail for her. Pretty low, considering the charges.”
“Hmm. A criminal lawyer once told me that in California a murder suspect couldn’t be granted bail.”
“Well, he didn’t know what he was talking about.”
“It was a ‘she,’ actually.”
“Then she didn’t know what she was talking about. Murder suspects can be granted bail, just so long as the court feels they won’t try to flee the country or otherwise not appear in court.”
“So she’s out of jail then!” Ronni was delighted.
“In all likelihood she will be tomorrow. It’s more of a formality now. And I think the bail is going to be $10,000.”
“And her parents have agreed to post bond?”
“They have,” Peter answered.
“I wonder if she’ll try to come back to school.”
“I suppose it depends on how she feels, on what type of person she is,” Peter said.
“I think she’s a pretty strong person—emotionally. I wouldn’t doubt she comes back, even though I’m sure there will be a lot of issues.”
“What do you mean?”
“Kids who believe she’s guilty attacking her. Others with annoying questions? What’s it like in jail? What’s the food like? How do they treat you? Are the guards cute?”
Peter laughed. “Well, we’ll just have to wait and see, I guess,” Peter replied.
“No matter what, I feel sorry for her.” Ronni shook her head. “Poor kid.”
“A plus is that her parents hired one of the best criminal lawyers in the area. Jim Cranston. One of the partners at Keppler and Ross.”
“Keppler and Ross?” Ronni frowned. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”
Peter laughed. “I sometimes don’t remember that you’re really a newbie to the area.”
“Guilty, as charged,” Ronni told him.
“Keppler and Ross is one of the oldest law firms in the city, established more than a hundred years ago. With a great record on acquittals.”
“At least she has one good thing going for her,” Ronni said.
Peter drained his cup and looked toward Ronni. “Ready to go?” he asked.
“I am,” she said. “Thanks for a wonderful meal.”
“Don’t thanks me,” Peter answered. “If anyone, thank the chef.”
“I’ll do that.”
“Just a minute.” Peter walked to the door that led to the kitchen. “Johnny,” he called.
“Yes, sir?” a voice answered.
“Can you come here for a minute? My friend would like to meet you.”
Ronni was surprised to see a young man, no more than twenty-five or so, stick his head out the door. “Mr. Jackson!” His face broke into a smile. “Good to see you.”
“Ronni Adams, I’d like you to meet the best chef in town, Johnny Flowers. J
ohnny, this is my friend Ronni Adams, a teacher at Watson-Collins.”
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Adams.”
“You too. I wanted to compliment you on the ravioli. It was wonderful.”
The chef’s face flushed with pleasure. “That’s very nice of you to say.”
“I certainly mean it. Actually, it’s the best ravioli I’ve ever had. And I mean that sincerely.”
Johnny smiled and bowed.
“You certainly made his day,” Peter said as they left the restaurant.
They spent the rest of the evening curled up on Ronni’s sofa watching a movie, The Bridge on the River Kwai.
Chapter 26
Millie did come back to school the following Monday, which Ronni felt took a lot of guts. Ronni saw her when she walked into the acting class.
“Millie!” she exclaimed, surprised and delighted. “It’s great to have you back.”
“Thank you.” She seemed subdued, sober. But what else could be expected? Millie glanced at the other students. “I’m glad to be back, though I’m sure there are a lot of mixed feelings about that. I am an accused murderer.”
“Oh, come on, Millie,” Devonte said. “You’re the same person. I think you have as much right to be here as anyone else. I’m sure the rest of the class agrees.”
Ronni saw a lot of nods and one or two frowns.
Ruthie Kovinski raised her hand.
“Yes, Ruthie?” Ronni said.
“Is it all right if we spend part of the period talking about what happened with Millie?”
“Well, it’s okay with me—fifteen minutes or so. But let’s ask Millie what she thinks. I can certainly understand if she’d rather not talk about her last few days. I’m sure the entire experience has been traumatic.” She turned to Millie. “Are you up to it? It’s fine with me either way.”
Millie shrugged. “It’s okay.” She took a deep breath. “If I answer questions for a lot of people at the same time, it’s probably better than having to explain the same thing over and over again.”
Ronni noticed immediately that there had been a change in Millie. Being charged and spending a night in jail somehow seemed to have bolstered her confidence. She seemed less timid, not the shy little girl anymore—at least for the moment.
“You’re sure?” Ronni asked.
Millie gave a slight smile. “If it gets too bad… If it starts affecting me too much—which it might—I can always stop, right?”
“Any time,” Ronni told her. “Would you like to come up front?”
Millie shrugged. “I suppose that way I can at least address everyone who has questions. I mean I can see them.”
Ronni gave her a smile of encouragement. “Remember, you can stop any time.”
Millie nodded, walked to the front, and stood in the center of the auditorium. Again, Ronni thought, she looked much more assured than she had been before her arrest. She wondered why. Maybe it was simply the fact that she found she could draw on hidden resources. That she was a stronger person than she’d thought she could be.
“What would you like to know?” Millie asked.
“What was it like?” Ruthie asked.
“Being in jail, you mean?”
Ruthie shook her head. “From the time the police took you in.”
“Oh, wow. It was horrendous. It was traumatic. It was the most frightening experience I’ve ever had. And I hope nothing like that happens again—to me or to any of you. Try to imagine how you would feel if this happened to you. All at once the police take you somewhere and start firing questions at you. Already, they’ve judged you to be guilty. They show little if no humanity. They’re accusative. They mock you.”
“Mock you?” A boy named Robbie asked.
“When they told me I was being arrested for murder, it was a terrible shock. I felt like I was going to pass out, and I started to gag. One of the detectives made fun of me for that.”
“Made fun of you!” Robbie said.
“Accused me of being ‘theatrical, of overreacting. Then they said they were taking me to the jail and asked if they should use handcuffs. You can’t begin to imagine how I felt—lost, scared, lonely, worried.” She looked from one face to the other.
Ronni couldn’t believe how well Millie was handling herself in front of the class. Certainly, she was emotional. But the timid, shy girl she used to be seemed gone. Ronni admired her for her fortitude, and certainly for her willingness to talk about her experience.
“Then they took me past the cafeteria where people could see me being led away. It was humiliating. And the entire time they were treating me like I was some sort of sub-human being.”
“Sounds terrible,” Devonte said.
Millie gave him an ironic smile. “That’s an understatement. But after a time, the two detectives stopped mocking me and trying to put me down. I don’t mean they showed any kindness or respect. They didn’t. But at least when they spoke to me they used a more neutral tone of voice.”
“So what happened after you got to the jail?” a girl named Rachel asked.
“They took my belongings, including my phone. I hadn’t been able to let my mom and dad know anything. Neither of them picked up when I tried to call before the police came to the school. So I was totally alone—not allowed to have contact with anyone outside the jail. I was utterly terrified. I couldn’t stop crying.”
“They just left you in the cell by yourself?” Rachael asked.
“For a while. But I thought I’d just be left there until…I don’t know what.”
“How long were you there?”
“Only five minutes or so, and they I had to be formally booked. They took me out of the cell, and they read the charges to me. While that was happening…” She glanced toward Ronni. “Ms. Adams and her friend Peter Jackson came to see me,” she told the class. Tears appeared in her eyes as once again she turned to Ronni. “You can’t know how much that meant to me. To know someone cared.” She began to cry. “Sorry for the tears, but it meant so much to me to see you and Mr. Jackson.”
“I’m glad it helped.” She addressed the class. “Some of you may know Mr. Jackson. His family is among the major supporters of Watson-Collins. He’s an attorney. Not a criminal lawyer; he specializes in estate law. But he thought he might be able to answer some questions, help Millie understand what to expect.”
Millie smiled. “And he was very helpful. But while I was talking to him, my mom and dad arrived. They both had had their phones turned off, which is why I couldn’t reach them. Dad was working and Mom had gone to a movie with friends.”
“Wow, so they finally found out you’d been arrested,” Rachel said.