by Cynthia Raye
“Good morning, Bob. How are you?” she said to the security guard as she reached the entrance to the school.
“A little angry, a little relieved. A little… frustrated.”
Ronni cocked her head as she looked at him. “Why, what happened?”
“Police. The two detectives, Solomon and Kolonich.”
“What did they do?” Ronni asked.
“Just as I was getting ready to leave this morning to come to work, they showed up at my house.”
“To your house? What for?”
“Seems they heard all about Sylvia Hawkins calling my wife and telling her I was cheating on her.”
“I’m lost. I don’t understand why they were there?”
“They wanted to see if I was lying.” He tightened his lips and frowned in disgust.
“About cheating on your wife?”
“I think they timed it so I wouldn’t be there, so I couldn’t hear what she said.” He shook his head. “Well, she told them she believed me—particularly after it came to light all the things Sylvia Hawkins had done to students.” He stared into Ronni’s eyes. “My wife called and told me they kept asking if she really meant what she said or was she covering up for me.” He paused to regain control of his emotions. That makes me damned angry. And now she said they want to talk to me again. I don’t believe it!”
“Why would they want to talk to you again?”
Bob took a deep breath and exhaled sharply. “They think I could be the murderer.”
“They think you murdered Sylvia?”
“At least they suspect it. Who else, they said to my wife, would be at the school that early? Who else would be able to get inside so early without being noticed?” For a moment he stared at the ground and then raised his eyes. “They should be here any minute, I would think.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah! I don’t know how to prove I didn’t do it. Just like with the girl they already arrested, the one out on bail.”
“Millie?”
“Yes. At best very weak circumstantial evidence. Just because I could have done it—like Millie—they suspect that I did.” He closed his eyes and grimaced. “I can’t afford to be off work. I can’t afford to lose my job. I have a family to support—two kids and a wife. We’re buying a house. If I lose my job, even temporarily if they put me in jail, who’s going to pay for that?”
“I certainly hope it doesn’t come to that. And if it’s any help, I certainly doubt Watson-Collins will fire you just because you’re accused of murder.”
“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what happens.” He tried to smile. “Thanks for listening.”
Ronni thought back to what Rose had told her about how the act of listening sometimes provided a lot of help. She hoped that in this instance that would be true. “You’re certainly welcome.” She glanced at her cell phone to see the time. She had about twenty minutes before class started. Should she spend that time skimming through the at least part of the prompt book? I really am becoming compulsive, aren’t I? She asked herself.
No! No prompt book skimming. At least for now. She immediately tossed the book into one of the desk drawers and slammed it shut. Then she sat behind her desk, rolled her eyes, and opened the drawer. She may as well skim through the first part.
Chapter 33
When Ronni stopped at her office at the beginning of her free period, she saw Detectives Solomon and Kolonich standing by the door waiting for her.
“Officers,” she said, “did you want something?”
“Yes,” Kolonich said. “We’re having Kimberly Stocklas paged and sent here to your office We want to ask her a few more questions.”
Ronni was not at all happy about the inconvenience. She’d been determined to spend at least half the period finishing up with her work.
“Is something wrong?” Solomon asked.
“What do you mean?” Ronni asked.
“You don’t look happy to see us here.”
This was getting to be a habit—entertaining the police every morning. “I was going to try to get some work done.”
“Sorry about that,” Kolonich said. “But we do need to have someone present when we question her. And since you have a free period coming up…”
“I hope this is the last time,” Ronni answered, not very civilly.
“I hope so too, actually,” Solomon said. “This whole case is nuts. It seems almost everyone in the school had a reason to have hated Sylvia Hawkins; to have wanted revenge against her for something.”
“If you’d known her,” Ronni said, “maybe you’d understand.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Solomon asked, his voice challenging.
“It isn’t supposed to mean something. It does mean something.”
“And exactly what does it mean?” Solomon asked, his voice harsh.
“I’ve never met anyone before like Sylvia.” She looked from Solomon to Kolonich. “Come on in,” she said as she then opened the door to her office and circled around to the back of her desk.”
“In what way?” Kolonich asked.
“She was the closest thing to pure evil that I’ve ever met. And she had the faculty and staff believing she was the total opposite. Besides a group of followers and one other person—Emma—she had no friends. Everyone avoided her. To put it bluntly, everyone feared her. It was hard to tell what she might do, out of the cruelness of her heart. She’d find someone’s weak spot and hone-in on it. For instance, on Millie, who is a little overweight. Every time Sylvia saw her, she’d call her ‘Piggy’ and making an oinking sound.
“One of the students is from China. Another teacher told me Sylvia constantly berated him for his accent and the fact that he has a hard time conversing in English. She tried to hurt and sometimes actually did physically harm students—shoving them, tripping them, and anything else she could do to hurt a person physically or emotionally.”
“You make it sound like nobody cared if she lived or died,” Solomon said, shaking his head. “I can’t imagine someone with no redeeming qualities. Even Hitler liked animals. But according to what you say, Sylvia really was pure evil. And no one cared about her.”
“As you know,” Ronni said, “school was canceled the day after the murder. Counselors came to talk to students about the murder, and so did some of the teachers, I among them. One of the things I often heard them say was they wished she hadn’t died, but they couldn’t grieve for her. They couldn’t make themselves care that she was dead.” She looked Solomon in the eye. “That should give you some idea of what she was like.”
“Interesting,” Kolonich said, “but neither here nor there. A murder was committed. No matter what the victim was like, it has to be solved.”
“Of course, it does,” Ronni answered. “I’m not suggesting otherwise. I’m just trying to explain what sort of person Sylvia Hawkins was and why almost no students experienced any grief at her death. That and the fact that so many kids disliked her. Hated her even.”
As they were talking, an announcement came over the sound system asking Kimberly Stocklas to report immediately to Ronni’s office.
Moments later Kimberly appeared in the doorway to the office. “What did you—” she started to say and then saw the two policemen.
“Detectives,” she said, “I didn’t murder Sylvia. Look at me. I’m not very tall, and I don’t weigh much. I’m small-framed. How could you possibly think I could pick up the statue, swing it at Sylvia’s head and kill her? She was much taller than I am. I don’t see how you could believe it’s even possible for me to pick up the statue.” She shook her head.
“Come in, Kimberly,” Solomon told her. “We’re not here to accuse you.”
“You’re not?” she sounded surprised.
“Please come in and have a seat.”
“Okay, I guess.” Kimberly sounded unsure of herself, unsure of what they wanted.
“Look,” Kolonich said. “We’re going to sit down too. Make
it seem less like we’re trying to dominate you or take control. We just want a friendly chat.”
“About what?” Kimberly asked, looking from one to the other.
“You belong to a group,” Solomon said, his voice void of any emotion. “Right?”
“I belong to two or three groups here at school: the glee club, the—”
“Solomon interrupted. “The one centered around the murder victim.”
“Sylvia!” Kimberly said. “Yes, there are a group of us, twelve, to be exact, who… I don’t know a word to describe us. We… We looked up to her, wanted to be like her, tried to imitate her in clothing and mannerisms. The way she moved, the way she talked.”
“Why?” Kolonich asked. “It seems most students avoided her, didn’t want to have anything to do with her.”
“They didn’t know her like we did. Overall, she was a wonderful person.” she continued, although she didn’t sound too sure of herself.
“In what way?” Kolonich asked.
“Because she was genuine. She acted on what she felt. She didn’t hold back.”
“Oh,” Solomon said. “That’s not what we heard. We were told time and again that she misled the faculty. In front of her teachers, she was the perfect student, the perfect young lady. But with other students she was the opposite. What do you say about that?”
“She treated us well,” Kimberly said. “The group that admired her.”
“Did she really?” Kolonich said. “I asked that because I heard otherwise when we talked with students the day she died. Many said that she even treated you girls as underlings, as not as good as she was, as almost unworthy of her attention.”
Kimberly didn’t answer. She simply stared, almost as if she were in a trance. Tears flowed from her eyes. When she started to speak, it was a rush of words. “I became part of the group because I didn’t have any friends. I don’t know why. When I was in elementary school and junior high, there were a lot of kids I played with or later spent time with. But here it was all different. I got off on the wrong foot. I don’t know why. I don’t know what I did that… alienated me from others. But it bothered me. A lot. Then Jill, one of the girls in the group, approached me and asked if I’d like to be a part it. Yes, I told her. I was desperate for friends. For a while it was okay. I now had eleven friends, twelve if I counted Sylvia. I felt as if I belonged.” She stopped abruptly.
“And then something happened to make you think you wanted out of the group?” Solomon asked.
“It was all so silly.” She glanced at Ronni. “Sylvia was not who I’d been led to believe she was. Jill had painted her as a leader, one who could get things done.” She shook her head. “She could get things done all right. Being mean. Being cruel. Attacking other kids any way she could.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t look up to someone like that.” She paused for a moment. “I shouldn’t say this…but she was a horrible person.”
“So what did you do?” Kolonich asked.
“I started dropping hits… I guess, you’d call them. To see how the other girls felt. But I couldn’t make a dent. They all thought Sylvia was the best or at least pretended to.” She sighed deeply. “I know some of them even thought I was jealous that Sylvia was getting all the attention.” She bit her lower lip. “It wasn’t that at all. It was that I wanted out; I didn’t understand how the group could look up to Sylvia, admire her, want to be like her. At the same time I was afraid.”
“Afraid?” Kolonich asked. “What do you mean?”
“Afraid they’d attack me or something. You know, like in a street gang. Once you’re a member, it’s almost impossible to leave…unless you agree to be shot or something.”
“You were afraid they’d hurt you?”
“Sylvia certainly hurt a lot of people, didn’t she?”
Solomon nodded. “You have a point.”
“May I say something?” Ronni asked.
“Go ahead,” Solomon told her.
“I wouldn’t worry about that too much anymore, if I were you,” she told Kimberly.
“What… What do you mean?”
“Since Sylvia’s been… is no longer with is, there’s no reason for the group to exist. I think it will just fade away.”
“I hope you’re right,” Kimberly answered.
“I hope so too,” Ronni said. “And then maybe you can make some real friends.”
“I don’t know,” Kimberly answered. “Since I was a part of the group, do you think anyone would want to be my friend?”
“There’s an old saying, ‘This too shall pass.’ Memories are short. Things move on. Like I said, they fade away.”
“One other question,” Kolonich said, “and then you can go back to your class.”
Kimberly looked at him expectantly.
“Do you have any idea who murdered Sylvia?”
Kimberly thought for a moment and then shook her head. “There are so many other kids who hated her, kids who carried grudges. I just don’t know.”
Solomon nodded. “Do you think any of the other girls in the group could have done it?”
“Murdered her?” She frowned. “Unless the girl were a very good actor, I’d say no.”
“A good actor?” Kolonich asked. “What do you mean?”
“Someone who could pretend to go along with the group without giving away how she really felt. But, I certainly don’t know of anyone like that.”
Kolonich and Solomon stood. “Thanks,” Kolonich said.
“You may go now,” Solomon told her.
Chapter 34
Two-thirds of her free period still remained, Ronni thought. Time enough to finish with the prompt book until the start of rehearsals. But it wasn’t to be.
Once Kimberly had left the office, Solomon turned back to Ronni.
“Sorry, but we also asked Emma Miller to join us. We want to ask her some questions.”
“Emma?” Ronni was surprised. “Why, for heaven’s sake?”
“You never know what you might uncover,” Kolonich said. “She may have seen something or heard something that will give us a clue. Something she might not have remembered earlier or which she thinks might not be significant.”
“Or has it ever occurred to you,” Solomon said, “that she could be the murderer!”
“It has occurred to me but only along with many, many others. After all, Emma’s the one who discovered the body. And she was extremely upset about it. If she murdered Sylvia, why would she have screamed and carried on the way she did?”
“Horrified at what she’d done, maybe?” Kolonich suggested.
Ronni shook her head. “I’d certainly hate to think that’s true.”
“Or maybe it was all an act,” Solomon said.
“No, I don’t think so,” Ronni said. “Her face was drained of color. You can’t fake that.”
“Well, at any rate, she’ll be here any time.”