by Cynthia Raye
“You really think that’s it?” Emma said. “They don’t really think I killed Sylvia.”
Ronni smiled. “I’d bet on it.”
“I hope that’s it,” Emma said. “I certainly wouldn’t want to have to spend time in jail like Millie did. It sounded terrible.”
“I seriously doubt you’ll have to,” Ronni answered. “And I think sooner or later—sooner, I hope—the police are bound to find out who the murderer is.”
“And who wrote those threatening notes,” Liz said.”
“Which, incidentally, add proof to the fact that I’m innocent,” Emma said. “I’m mean since I’m one of the two people who were threatened.”
“There is that,” Ronni said, “though if you had been the murderer, you could easily have sent the notes yourself, right?”
“But I’m not!”
“Certainly, you’re not!” Liz said. “I think Ronni was just playing devil’s advocate.”
“Exactly,” Ronni answered but then frowned.
After Emma left, Liz turned to Ronni. “Do you think she really could have done it?”
“Emma, you mean?”
“Yes. I saw your frown, and I wondered if that’s what you were thinking.”
“It does seem a stretch of the imagination, doesn’t it?” Ronni replied.
“You know,” Liz said, “I certainly don’t remember being at school and feeling the aftershocks of an earthquake, and I’m sure that’s something I’d remember.” She nodded. “Well, there’s one way to find out. I’ll ask Jill about it.”
Chapter 36
Once more Detectives Solomon and Kolonich were waiting outside the entrance to Watson-Collins when Ronni arrived early the next morning.
“Good morning,” Solomon said.
“Good morning,” Ronni answered. “Here to talk to more students?”
“Yes,” Kolonich answered, “but this time we won’t bother you. We’ll be talking to them in one of the conference rooms, and Dalton Hostetler’s secretary will be there to witness the questioning.”
“That’s good,” Ronni said. She’d given the cast another night off when a couple of them had said they had pressing homework they didn’t have time to do. She and Peter had spent the evening together watching television and eating popcorn and she still hadn’t gone through the rest of the prompt book. She come to the school earlier than usual to go through as much of it as possible. Then she’d finish during the second period. She was glad to have the time free.
“Incidentally, forensics found fingerprints on the two notes.”
“That’s good news,” Ronni answered.
“Yes,” Solomon said. On one of them we found your prints and Emma Miller’s, which is to be expected. The other one?” He smiled and nodded. “We have a partial print. So whoever sent it isn’t as smart as he or she thinks.”
“The comment about the gloves!” Ronni answered.
“Exactly,” Kolonich said. “But apparently, whoever it was touched the paper before putting on the gloves.”
“Probably accidentally,” Solomon said.
“We can’t be certain who the person is, though we can make a good guess.”
“Who is it?” Ronni asked.
“We’d actually rather not say till we’re certain.”
“Let’s go inside,” Ronni suggested, “instead of standing out here. We can go to my office.” She laughed. “I’ll be sure to leave the door open.”
The two detectives laughed. “Why not?” Solomon said. “Maybe we can even scrounge up a cup of coffee.”
“And the proverbial doughnut. You know cops and doughnuts,” Kolonich kidded. “We can’t live without them.”
“We can stop in the faculty lounge,” Ronni said. “The janitorial staff always starts a pot of coffee for those of us who are still struggling to keep our eyes open. It’s probably too early for any fresh pastries yet. But I’m sure there are some left from yesterday. There always are.”
“Sounds fine to us, right?” Solomon said, indicating his partner.
“Many a stakeout; many a stale doughnut,” Kolonich said. “We’re used to day-olds.”
Bob opened the door for them. He averted his eyes from the two detectives and totally ignored them. Ronni didn’t blame him for still being teed off that they questioned his wife when they knew he couldn’t be at home.
In the lounge the coffee was steaming. And there were several kinds of pastries on the counter nearby. Including doughnuts.
Ronni poured cups of coffee for all of them while the two detectives looked over the pastry. Kolonich chose a chocolate-and-nut-covered doughnut, while Solomon chose a cherry-flavored cupcake. “Variety,” he exclaimed, “the spice of life!”
“Yeah, well, I’m going to report you to the captain. It’s doughnuts or nothing, you know. They’ll have you in front of the board before you know it.”
“I’ll take my chances,” Solomon replied. “At most I’d probably be suspended without doughnuts for a day or two.”
“Well… if you’re willing to risk it.”
Ronni laughed. “Who are you two? Laurel and Hardy? Abbot and Costello? The two stooges.”
“That’s three stooges, if I remember correctly,” Kolonich said. “But who’s counting?”
Ronni looked at the pastries and shook her head. Nope! she told herself. Pizza and ravioli and who knows what else. If she kept it up, she’d have to buy a whole new closet. “Let’s go,” she said, heading toward the door.
The two detectives followed as she led the way back to her office.
“Have a seat, gentlemen,” she told them.” As they sat down and placed their cups on the desk, she took her seat. “So,” she said. “what is this about a partial fingerprint?”
“Part of a thumb print, actually,” Solomon said. “It’s roughly a third of the thumb, from the tip up, which means there aren’t as many swirls as there could be. We can see an indication of a pattern, which we have possibly identified, but we have to get a new print, to make sure.”
“Obviously, it’s a print from one of the students you talked to.”
“I don’t know who else it could be,” Solomon answered.
“Well, except if it were an adult,” Ronni answered. “A faculty or staff member.”
“Why would you even suspect such a thing?” Solomon asked.
“It’s not that I suspect it,” Ronni answered. “I’m just speculating.”
“Well, Kolonich answered, “we’re pretty sure it’s a student. And I’m sure will find out which one. After we take more prints.”
“You said this is a partial thumbprint,” Ronni said. She took a sip of coffee. “How could that happen, I wonder. If there are no prints anywhere else and the person wore gloves.”
“Our theory is,” Kolonich answered. “that the person was trying to pull out a single sheet from a ream of paper.”
“And someone wearing gloves—depending on the type—may have had problems doing that,” Solomon said. “For instance, if the paper were packaged, wrapped, that is, as typing paper often is—”
“Difficult to get out of the pack, even when you take off the wrapper. The gloves may have kept slipping, so the person took them off to retrieve the paper.”
“That’s a lot of speculating,” Solomon said, “but to us it does seem logical.”
“I see,” Ronni answered. “Then he or she—”
“We’re pretty sure it was a girl,” Kolonich said. “But like I said, we need to be sure.”
“That’s the only print on that piece of paper… except yours and Emma Miller’s,” Solomon told her.
“So you’re pretty sure then,” Ronni said, “that by the end of the day, you’ll know who sent the notes, even if you don’t know who the killer is?”
“That’s correct,” Kolonich said. “And since the person claims to know who the killer is, we get the information out of her, one way or another.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” Ronni said.
> Kolonich laughed. “I didn’t mean we’d use any medieval torture devices!”
“I certainly hope not,” Ronni answered.
“Well,” Solomon said, “thanks for the coffee. I hear other people in the hall, so I think it’s about time we headed up to the conferences room.”
“You’re welcome,” Ronni told them. She picked up the plastic cups and threw them away. Then she opened the prompt book to Act II.
Chapter 37
Ronni was able to skim through the rest of the prompt book with minutes to spare. Just as the warning bell rang, Liz popped her head through the door. “Need to talk to you,” she said. “I was hoping to catch you earlier but got into a traffic jam. And unfortunately, I’m meeting with students to talk about their assignments during second period. So I can’t get together till lunchtime. Sorry.”
“No problem.”
“Well, I gotta run,” Liz said.
Ronni wondered what Liz wanted to tell her. She’d just have to wait and see.
In the acting class, students were presenting scenes of their choice that showed moments of high conflict. It still was strange meeting with Sylvia no longer there. She’d had an almost overwhelming presence in the class. It would take some getting used to.
The directing class met in a classroom instead of the auditorium. Ronni had the students push all the desks to the sides and back of the room to leave a big open space in the middle. Each was to present a short scene as if it were in arena theater..
She was glad when the period ended and she could head to the cafeteria. Liz was already going through the line for food when she got there. She grabbed a tray and silverware and crossed to the end of the line.
Liz was already starting on her lunch of spaghetti when Ronni joined her at their usual table.
“How goes it?” Liz asked. “I noticed the detectives are leaving you alone, at least for the day.”
“Yes,” Ronni answered. “Dalton’s secretary is taking my place—seeing that the two detectives aren’t alone in the room with any female students.”
“I take it that they still haven’t found the person who killed Sylvia.”
“No, but they told me they did find a partial print on one of the notes.” She shrugged. “They think they know from the print who sent them but can’t be sure since it shows only about a third of the thumb.”
“They’re close then to finding who the culprit is. But that doesn’t mean finding out who murdered Sylvia, does it?” Liz asked as she took a bite of spaghetti.
“No, but they told me that once they find out who that is” Ronni told her, “they can pressure the person to reveal who the killer is. Remember, the note mentioned to knowing who killed Sylvia.”
“Well, I certainly wish them luck.”
“Now, what is it,” Ronni asked, “that you wanted to talk to me about?”
“I talked to Jill. Remember, she’s the person who, Emma told us, helped pick up the fallen statue.”
Ronni leaned forward in concentration. “What did she say?”
“It seems I was mistaken. There were aftershocks as a result of an earthquake out in the desert.” She shook her head. “I don’t know how I could have missed that. Maybe I hadn’t come to school yet. Maybe I was running a little late that day. The tremors, according to Jill, did occur before classes started.”
“So Emma was telling the truth,” Ronni said. “I’m glad.”
“Hang on a minute. We don’t know that.”
“That she was telling the truth?” Ronni was puzzled. “I don’t understand.”
“Jill remembers the tremors, but she doesn’t remember picking up the statue.”
“Wow! So is she just not remembering, or is Emma not telling the truth?”
“We can certainly find that out.”
“What do you mean?” Ronni asked.
“We’ll ask her. See what she says,” Liz told her.
“What if she is guilty?” Ronni swallowed hard. “I hate to think it.”
“So do I. And if she is, she’s one hell of an actor.”
“She certainly is She’d make a great Amanda, wouldn’t she?”
“In The Glass Menagerie?” She shook her head. “But only if she’s guilty.”
Ronni looked up. “And, speak of the devil?” She muttered and nodded toward the entrance to the cafeteria. Emma had just entered and was heading toward their table.
“Hi, Emma,” Ronni said.
Emma nodded. “I see you were talking to the two detectives this morning,” she said. “I walked past your office and saw them.”
“That’s right. Having a cup of coffee before starting in again to question people about the murder.”
“Have they found anything out?” Emma asked.
“They discovered a partial print on one of the notes.”
“A partial print?” Emma said.
Hmmm, Ronni thought, did Emma’s face suddenly become paler? Or was it just the way she moved in the artificial light?
“It was the only print on the second note,” Ronnie told her.
“And they don’t know who it belonged to?” Emma asked. “The print, I mean.”
“They’re not sure. They think they know but the print isn’t complete enough to be sure.”
For a moment Emma was quiet. When she finally answered, her voice was. “Well, I hope they find out.”
“Yes,” Ronni said. “They told me that if they do, they will most certainly find out who murdered Sylvia.”
Yes, Ronni saw, Emma was looking pale… and she was trembling.
“What do you mean?” Emma asked.
“The person who wrote the note said she knew who the murderer is. They said they’ll get it out of her.”
“Her?” Emma asked. “What makes them think it was a girl?”
“I suppose it’s because they think they know whose fingerprint it is.”
“Wow!” Emma sat down between Ronni and Liz.
“We want to ask you something?” Liz told her.
“Yes?”
“Emma,” Ronni said. “Did you murder Sylvia?”
Again, the piercing scream. Just like the morning Sylvia lay dead on the floor. “Nooo! How can you think that!”