Killing Secrets

by Dianne Emley

  The reporters started shouting questions, mostly concerning how and why. Beltran ably managed the situation and cut a solid, calming, and informed presence. Nan had to hand it to him. Plus, the camera loved him. He revealed that there was no evidence of sexual assault. Nan was relieved that Erica had been spared that degradation. Toxicology reports still hadn’t come in. Beltran wouldn’t comment on the presence of a suicide note. The questions went on.

  Emily took her mom’s hand. With her other hand, she brushed away tears.

  A heavyset man in his thirties with a scruffy beard, wearing a short-sleeved, plaid shirt with a narrow tie, stood and introduced himself. “Luther Prevett, blogger, Pasadena Per Se.”

  Nan had never seen the man but was familiar with his popular blog, which dissected all things Pasadena with acerbic wit coupled with shrewd commentary.

  Prevett said, “Lieutenant, why isn’t the Pasadena Police considering Ryan Keller, Erica’s estranged husband, as a suspect in her murder?”

  Beltran said, “Mr. Keller has been interviewed by investigators but there’s no evidence linking him to the killings.” He pointed to a woman, “Sarah, go ahead.”

  Before Sarah could ask her question, Prevett shouted, “Are you treating Ryan Keller with kid gloves because he’s a Pasadena Police sergeant and you and he are drinking buddies?”

  Nan saw Alex shift his feet and Sergeant Early’s eyes dart to the side.

  Beltran’s eyes grew steely. “Ryan Keller was thoroughly interviewed about this case and proper procedures were followed. As I said before, there is no evidence linking Sergeant Keller to the two deaths. No further questions.” He left the podium, holding up his hand for Commander Tovar to leave first while Prevett continued to shout questions about law enforcement’s code of silence in protecting their own.

  “Emily, why are you crying?” Granny was blunt, as was her way.

  Nan let go of Emily’s hand, put her arm around her waist, and pulled the distraught girl close. “Erica Keller was one of Em’s teachers and Jared Hayword was a school friend.”

  “How awful. I’m so sorry.” Viv pulled a small plastic package of tissues from her apron pocket and handed it to Em.

  Emily took the tissues. “Thank you.” She dried her eyes. Her burst of grief had been fierce but short. “Jared wasn’t a school friend. I’d barely even talked to him. Stupid creep.”

  “Emily…” Nan warned.

  Emily took in a wavering breath. “Just makes me mad. It’s so unfair.”

  Erica Keller’s Coopersmith faculty photo was broadcast on the TV screen beside a snapshot of her on a boat, wearing sunglasses, a white visor, and a big smile as wind whipped through her long blond hair. In the background, the newscaster gave information about the candlelight memorial service at Coopersmith School tonight.

  The news program then broadcast Jared’s crazy-eyed school portrait. They didn’t juxtapose it with a casual snapshot of him as they had Erica. The newscaster spoke of Jared’s father’s suicide and Jared’s prior suicide attempt and opined about how sad it all was.

  Nan’s phone buzzed in her pocket. Melissa Hayword had sent her a text.

  Last night on the street in front of the Hayword home after Alex Caspers had told Nan about the case being closed, Nan had returned to Mrs. Hayword’s front porch, wanting to give her the news in person. Nan had rung the doorbell. The lights in the house had again been turned on and a shadow had passed behind the curtained side windows before Mrs. Hayword had opened the door. She had been still fully dressed. Nan had told her about the autopsies having been completed and the case being closed. Mrs. Hayword had said only, “Thank you, Detective Vining,” and closed the door.

  Nan read Mrs. Hayword’s text: That press conference was an outrage. If you have an ounce of integrity, you will not let this stand. Nan felt she had to respond to her but didn’t want to make any promises. She texted back: I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs. Hayword. I understand your concerns and I’ll take them under advisement. She could imagine the look of disgust on Mrs. Hayword’s face at Nan’s tepid and calculated response. Nan understood. She felt disgusted herself.

  Chapter 16

  That evening Nan drove Emily to the candlelight vigil at Coopersmith School. The school occupied several rustic wooden buildings on tree-shaded acres above a never-completed segment of 710 Freeway in Pasadena. Nan was using her personal car, which didn’t have the parking advantages of the E license plates on PPD cars. She had to search for parking like any other citizen and ended up several blocks from the school. As she and Em walked, they were joined by Em’s friends and their parents, the group growing the closer they got to the campus. The kids clung to one another, walking two or three across, commiserating and weeping. Nan chatted with the parents, most of whom she knew at least slightly. Some asked her about the police investigation and probed for inside details. She stuck to the murder-suicide scenario as related by Beltran at the press conference, although saying the words made her feel hollow inside.

  Near the campus, TV news vans, police cruisers, and plain-wrap Crown Vics lined the streets. Uniformed PPD officers were doing crowd control. Nan raised her hand to greet a young male officer who was directing traffic at a busy intersection. She wondered if Beltran was coming to the memorial. A public event like this normally would have been candy for him, but after he’d been heckled on TV by the Pasadena Per Se blogger at the press conference, Nan figured he wouldn’t set himself up for further public scrutiny about how the case had been handled. She doubted that would happen with this crowd. Judging from conversations floating through, people had come to grieve the murder of Erica Keller and to rage against the madness of Jared Hayword.

  Nan’s expanding group reached a chain-link fence that surrounded the school grounds. The fence was covered with handmade testimonials to Erica Keller, many with photos of the photogenic young teacher, including a few with her friends, mugging for the camera with silly props. There were images of fireworks, which Nan had learned from the people she was with was a favorite motivational theme of Erica’s, inspired by the famous Katy Perry song. There were stuffed toys and helium-filled balloons. There were also copious bouquets of sunflowers, which Nan learned Erica had always had in her room. She had loved their simple, unadorned cheerfulness.

  Emily and her friends, walking a distance ahead of Nan, stopped to look at a poster attached to the fence. Jeers and cursing rose up. A boy took out a pen and drew on the poster while his friends whooped their encouragement. They moved on. When Nan approached, she saw that the poster was a blowup of Jared’s crazy-eyed school portrait. It had been defaced with vile graffiti. Someone had used a red marker to make it look as if Jared’s throat were slashed. A gaping bullet hole dripping blood had been drawn on his forehead. “Freak” and much worse had been written all over it.

  The parents shook their heads and said nothing as they passed by.

  Nan stopped to take down the poster.

  “You’re right, Nan,” a mom said. “They shouldn’t be mocking a mentally ill boy.”

  Nan didn’t pick up her pace to catch up with her group, lagging behind as she rolled up the poster.

  “Thank you for doing that, Mrs. Vining.”

  Nan turned to see one of Emily’s teachers from last year walking beside her.

  “I’m Susan Coolidge. Emily was in my tenth grade English class.”

  “Hello. Nice to see you. Emily loved your class.”

  “She’s one of my favorite students ever. Bright. Creative. Self-confident and nice.” Susan was around Nan’s age, not as tall, and had shoulder-length light brown hair. “Emily’s a lovely girl.”

  “Thank you.” Nan smiled.

  “It hurts me to see Jared vilified. He was in one of my classes. I have a hard time accepting that he did what he’s accused of. I knew him as a smart, sensitive, but awkward young man.” Susan inclined her head to indicate the poster. “Jared was picked on enough while he was alive and it’s a shame that it’s still happeni
ng.”

  “Was he bullied?”

  “Unfortunately. There’s a clique of students who called Jared names and taunted him. We have zero tolerance for bullying at Coopersmith. The students were talked to and given warnings. They were subject to expulsion if the behavior had continued.”

  “Which students are in this clique?”

  Mrs. Coolidge rattled off names, including Ashton McCarthy’s. “Makes me wonder if the harassment set Jared off, but why take out his anger on Mrs. Keller? Makes no sense.”

  Nan carried the rolled-up poster in one hand. “It is hard to comprehend. Jared did have his demons. When Jared came to Coopersmith, did the faculty and administration know about his suicide attempt and what had happened to his dad?”

  “Yes. His mom wanted us to know so we could keep our eyes and ears open. All of us respected Jared’s privacy. It was his story to tell and he did start talking about it. He wasn’t ashamed. I think he thought his story might help other troubled kids. He wrote that essay and it elevated his profile at school. Personally, I thought he was doing well, which makes what happened all the more shocking. But I wonder about Erica’s role. She wasn’t much older than her students and she got too close to her kids, in my opinion. Especially Jared.”

  “Do you think there was an inappropriate relationship between Erica and Jared?”

  Susan didn’t look surprised by the question. “Well, I wondered and I wasn’t the only one. Erica had no shortage of attention from men. Jared was a handsome young man, but you’d think she would have gone for someone her age and certainly not a student. Erica was divorcing her husband, Ryan, and he was making her life hell. To me, Ryan was always nice and charming, but he had a menacing side. I never saw it, but I heard about it. Scary, him being a cop and all.”

  “Agree. Scary.”

  “There was an incident about a week ago that made us all suspect that Erica and Jared were intimate. I heard what happened from my friend Ray Hernandez. He’s our Spanish teacher and his classroom is next door to Erica’s. It was after class and Jared was in Erica’s room, again. Erica later said they were doing research on an extracurricular project she was helping him with. That young man had a lot of projects. Ryan Keller came into Erica’s classroom, wearing his uniform and gun and the whole thing, and started yelling at Erica and Jared. Ray Hernandez intervened, thank goodness.”

  Nan said, “I heard about that. What exactly happened?”

  “The doors to both classrooms were open. Ray heard Erica say, ‘Ryan, what are you doing here? You’re not supposed to be near the campus.’ Ryan said, ‘I know what you’re up to. You’re nothing but a lying slut.’ It escalated. He started badgering Jared, saying, ‘Are you f’ing my wife?’ Ray called security and ran into Erica’s room. Erica was cowering in a corner and Jared was standing in front of her, trying to shield her from her husband. Ryan was inches from Jared’s face, leaning toward him with his fists clenched, saying, ‘Get out of the way, you little jerk. She’s a worthless bitch.’ Ray grabbed a book and threw it across the room to get Ryan’s attention. Ryan backed off and said, ‘I’m having a private conversation with my wife. This is none of your goddamned business.’ The campus security guard came and got Ryan to leave. Thank goodness nobody was hurt.”

  Nan reflected that Melissa Hayword hadn’t recounted that story about her son. Nan suspected that Jared hadn’t told his mom about it. She probably would have pulled him out of Coopersmith, away from Erica, and Jared had known it.

  Susan said, “Erica downplayed the incident to us. One of my colleagues asked her straight out, ‘Is there something going on between you and Jared?’ She became angry and said, ‘Jared’s a talented and troubled boy and I’m helping him. Isn’t that what teachers do?’ Our principal, Jodie Rivers, investigated the incident and had a talk with Erica. I don’t know what was decided, but afterward Erica stopped letting kids into her classroom at lunch, including Jared, and she stopped seeing students in her room after school hours. Jared started keeping to himself again. Eating alone, sulking, and looking depressed, frankly. Erica’s mood changed too. She was standoffish with other teachers and seemed preoccupied. Granted, she had a lot on her mind with that husband of hers. I heard that Ryan Keller got into trouble with his job after that incident. That he was suspended or something.”

  Nan said, “He was put on administrative leave until the incident was investigated.” Ryan Keller was still on leave and he had to attend counseling sessions. “You said this happened about a week ago?”

  “Yes. It was last week. Tuesday, maybe Wednesday.”

  Susan Coolidge and Nan parted when they entered the school property through the open front gates. It was twilight. Nan caught up with Emily.

  Nan estimated there were a thousand people in attendance. Most were holding lit candles enclosed by white paper cones. The flames cast small circles of light onto grief-stricken faces.

  “Mom, we’re going to get candles. I’ll bring you one.” Emily took off with her friends.

  As Nan walked through the crowd, she saw a dangerous man who had no good reason for being there.

  Chapter 17

  Ignacio Medina was standing inside the front gate of Coopersmith with a couple of his homies, checking out the crowd. “Nacy Dena,” twenty-five years old, was a local gangbanger and drug dealer—the type of character whom Nan’s granny would call a no-account. Nacy and his homies were well known to the PPD. Nan had arrested Nacy twice, once for selling pot and another time for assault in a vicious beating in a bar parking lot of a guy Nacy claimed had been flirting with his girlfriend. Nan wasn’t happy to see him and his crew here, but she wasn’t surprised either. The memorial presented opportunities for criminal activities since it was crowded with distracted people, who were easy prey for thieves, and high school students, who might want to buy contraband. Nan was happy to see two uniformed PPD officers from the gang unit go up to Nacy and his crew. They greeted one another as if they were all buddies, though they were far from it. The officers moved on, mission accomplished. They’d made their presence known and let Nacy know that he and his homies were being watched.

  Reporters worked the crowd, shoving microphones and cameras into the faces of grieving students, parents, and teachers. Nan wove through the crowd as she headed across the lawn toward a decommissioned historic church on the property, which the school used as a multipurpose facility. Lights shone through a stained-glass window above the open doors of the simple wooden structure.

  She went up the church steps. On the landing at the top, a wooden podium and a microphone were set up. Beside the podium was a metal stand that held an enlargement of Erica Keller’s faculty picture on poster board. The pavement surrounding the photo was covered with candles, cards, mounds of flowers, and stuffed toys.

  Nan didn’t see any mention of Jared Hayword other than the defaced poster she held in her hand. She hadn’t seen his mother or sister. She thought they were wise to stay away given the crowd’s venom toward Jared.

  Inside the church, Nan saw that the original wooden pews were still in use and they were nearly full. While the church was no longer a consecrated place of worship, many teenagers and adults were praying, some on their knees on the fired-tile floor since the pew kneelers had been removed. Leaded glass casement windows along the walls were open but the cool evening air that drifted in wasn’t sufficient to dilute the body heat in the building.

  Going back outside, Nan stood on the landing, searched for Emily, and spotted her holding two lit candles and looking a little lost as she peered through the crowd. Nan hurried to join her and took one of the candles. She expected Emily to go off with her friends, but her daughter stayed close beside her, lacing her fingers with her mom’s. Nan was warmed by the gesture and squeezed Emily’s long, slender fingers. Emily gave her a sad smile. When Emily was younger and she’d been upset, she’d always sought out her mom to hold her hand or to initiate some sort of physical contact. Mother and daughter silently stood side by side.
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  Nan watched as a reporter shoved a microphone in the face of Jodie Rivers, a tall woman who wore her tailored black pantsuit and crisp white blouse well. Mrs. Rivers was letting gray creep into her short, dark brown hair. Nan knew the middle-aged school principal and found her to be competent and composed, which would benefit her in handling the scrutiny the killings had brought to the school and to her leadership. Still, Nan didn’t envy her.

  A distance behind Mrs. Rivers, Nan saw Sergeant Kendra Early enter the school grounds from the parking lot. Early was wearing the same dark suit with slacks that she’d worn at the press conference earlier that day. Nan was glad to see Early there and thought it showed respect that someone of rank who’d been involved in the PPD’s investigation of the killings had come to the memorial.

  Nan felt Emily’s grasp loosen as she started to walk away, saying over her shoulder, “There’s Aubrey and our friends. I’m going to say hi.” Nan watched Emily head off toward her best friend. Ashton, who was with a different group of teenage boys and girls, grabbed Emily and kissed her on the mouth. Em short-circuited Ashton’s kiss by ducking away and casting a wary glance back toward her mom. Ashton doffed his Oakland Raiders ball cap to Nan in greeting. Nan gave him a limp wave.

  Ashton started introducing Emily to his friends, whom Nan didn’t recognize. They looked polished, confident, and chummy and she suspected they were Ashton’s friends from his circle outside Coopersmith. It bothered her that Ashton had brought his friends from outside the Coopersmith family to the memorial as if it were a social event. His cutesy cap doffing also annoyed her. She just didn’t like him; Emily had been right about that. Emily was laughing, her grief momentarily set aside. Nan privately made a vow to Ashton: If you hurt her, you will have hell to pay.