by Dianne Emley
“Did Nacy see you having this conversation with Ashton?”
“Probably. Nacy was nearby with his friends. I wasn’t paying attention. It was crowded.”
“Did you have your eyes on your beer the whole time?”
Emily frowned as she thought about it. “Come to think of it, no. I set it on a wall next to the steps and it got knocked over. Ashton went to get me another one. It was a mob scene by the keg. I don’t know if he filled the cup himself or what.”
“How long before you passed out did this happen?”
“Maybe a half hour. You think that Nacy or one of his friends put the roofie in my beer because Nacy wanted to get Ashton into trouble?”
Nan said, “It’s possible. Why was Ashton trying to sell this thing that he picked up? Don’t his parents give him plenty of spending money?”
“Not really. They keep a tight leash on him. His mom’s all about setting boundaries and tough love. One time I was over at Ashton’s house and his stepbrother, Connor, accused him of stealing forty dollars from his wallet. Ashton denied it and said that Connor’s always trying to get him into trouble. I didn’t know what to think about it at the time. Now I wonder if Ashton did steal Connor’s money. I was so dumb when it came to Ashton.” Emily dropped her head to her chest and sniffed.
Nan got up, stood behind Emily’s chair, and wrapped her arms around her. “Lesson learned the hard way, but that’s life. Thank you for telling me that information about Ashton.” She rubbed her hands over Emily’s arms in her bathrobe.
Emily blew her nose into a paper napkin. “Mom, I’m sorry for my bad attitude lately. I heard what Ashton told you about me saying things about you not being a good mom. I was just mad about something and I told him some things I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry if I hurt you. I keep thinking about Mrs. Keller’s parents at the memorial and Jared’s mom and what they’re going through. I need to remember to be grateful. I mean, we’re good, right?”
Nan hugged her harder. “We’re good. We’re more than good. We’re great.”
Emily pushed back her chair and got up.
Nan grabbed her hand. “Thank you for saying that, Em.”
“You’re welcome.” She started clearing the table.
“By the way, Kaitlyn called earlier to check in and she and your dad want to take you and the boys to Santa Barbara this weekend, to the Four Seasons.” Nan had gotten over her peevishness regarding Kaitlyn and realized she should let Emily decide what she wanted to do. “Would be a nice change of scenery for you. I do have to work, after all, and I probably won’t be around much.”
Emily started putting the dishes into the dishwasher. “I just want to stay home and think about things. Kaitlyn’s fun but she’s kind of hyper. Honestly, I don’t need any new clothes.”
“I’m happy to have you with me.” Nan could hardly believe her ears. She decided to count her wins.
Chapter 31
Nan went to the auto repair shop to get her shattered window replaced. They had a new window in stock and she was quickly on the road, driving to meet Principal Jodie Rivers at Coopersmith School.
Mrs. Rivers and Nan walked from the brown-shingled administration building and down a sidewalk along a tree-shaded quad, passing a row of minimalist, single-story classrooms. Classes were in session.
Principal Rivers was as professional as she’d been on the podium the night of the memorial, but the cadence of her speech was more rapid and Nan detected an edge in her voice. “We have a substitute for Erica’s classes, but they’re being held in a different classroom. I didn’t want to disturb Erica’s room until I heard from the police. I assumed you would want to look through her things and talk to her co-workers, or maybe I watch too much television.”
“You’re correct. The victim’s workplace and co-workers are important in a homicide investigation.” Nan was wearing a charcoal pinstripe pantsuit and a white blouse. Her service Glock was in her belt holster but she missed the heft of her Walther at her ankle. She was glad that Mrs. Rivers didn’t ask why she was investigating a closed case.
“Good afternoon, Raoul,” Mrs. Rivers greeted a Latino janitor wearing a green uniform who was sweeping scraps of trash from the walkway into a long-handled receptacle. Rivers again spoke to Nan. “After you leave today, can I box everything up?”
“Yes. That would be fine.”
“I’ll call Erica’s parents to come and take what they want. Doesn’t feel right to contact Erica’s husband given how acrimonious the situation between them was, even though he claims they were working things out.”
“I heard about an incident in which Ryan Keller showed up here and there was an ugly exchange.”
Mrs. Rivers frowned. “That was unfortunate.”
“Do you know whether Erica had a boyfriend?”
“I hadn’t heard anything, but I wouldn’t be surprised. She was a pretty, young woman and sweet and smart. I try not to get too involved in my staff’s personal issues.” Mrs. Rivers raised her eyebrows at Nan as if her policy needed no explanation.
“I can certainly understand that. Any rumors about Jared and Erica getting too close?”
“There were rumors and I asked Erica about them. She said that she was fond of Jared but their relationship was absolutely platonic. She felt badly for him and was only trying to help him. I believed her. She was a dedicated teacher and highly professional. After Jared got in the middle of that scuffle between Erica and her husband, I told her that she needed to put distance between herself and Jared for both their sakes. I was concerned about damage to her reputation given the gossip that was going around, which she shrugged off, but I was mostly concerned with Jared’s well-being. Not just emotionally but also physically. I didn’t want her jealous husband going after him. Erica admitted that Jared had a crush on her. She’d tried to gently discourage him, but it wasn’t working. We decided the best approach would be for her to meet with students, especially Jared, only during class time until the end of the school year. In the fall, we could revisit the situation.”
“How did Jared handle that?”
“Kept to himself and moped around.”
They turned a corner on the sidewalk, passing another row of classrooms. Nan spotted Erica’s room, having been there on parents’ night, but it was easy to pick out because the walkway in front was nearly blocked with flowers, stuffed toys, and balloons piled high against the wall and the closed door. The door and windows were plastered with tributes and letters.
Mrs. Rivers made a sound of dismay as she bent to clear a path to the door.
Nan helped her.
Mrs. Rivers said, “I wonder how long to leave these things here. I have no idea about an appropriate time frame. This is totally new territory for me.” She looked through the keys on a large ring.
Through the open door of the classroom next door, Nan heard a Spanish class reciting verb conjugations aloud in unison. “A week seems about right. At least until after the funeral. Have you heard when that’s going to be?”
“On Monday.” Mrs. Rivers unlocked the door and walked inside ahead of Nan, stepping over items that were still in the way. She flipped switches beside the door to turn on the overhead lights. “Even after this room is cleaned out, I think we’ll wait before holding classes here again. At least until fall. Too upsetting for the children to come here and try to learn.”
The blinds were drawn over the windows and the room was stuffy.
“I hope I don’t sound like I’m in a big rush to obliterate Erica’s presence from the school, but some of the students and teachers have a morbid fascination with her things. I know for a fact that Erica kept a denim jacket in the closet in her room and it’s gone. Photos of her classroom have shown up on Facebook and Twitter…” The principal’s voice trailed off as she walked toward Erica’s desk in a front corner passing whiteboards mounted along the wall. Her arms were tightly crossed over her chest as if it were chilly, but it was in the eighties outside and nearly as hot in
the closed-up room.
Nan followed. In the center of Erica’s desk near the front edge was a red crystal apple with a green crystal stem and leaf. Beside it was a wooden statue of a saint that was about three inches tall and hand painted. Nan picked it up.
“That’s Francis de Sales,” Mrs. Rivers said. “Patron saint of writers, journalists, and editors. Erica loved to write. Wanted to write a novel one day. Writing was her passion…and teaching.”
Nan put the figurine back. Stacked on the left side of the desk was a pile of homework assignments. She riffled through them. They were typed and two or three pages long. A framed poster was displayed on the wall beside the desk. Dark green words on a pale orange background said, YOU CAN’T USE UP CREATIVITY. THE MORE YOU USE, THE MORE YOU HAVE.—MAYA ANGELOU.
Nan strolled around the room, stopping at a wall that was painted deep red and covered with magnetic bulletin boards. “Red?”
Mrs. Rivers was beside her. “Our teachers can paint an accent wall in their classrooms if they like.”
One bulletin board held announcements for summer abroad programs, internships, and school events. The others were covered with Erica’s personal photos.
There was one of Erica with a medium-size black-and-white dog.
“Poor Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Rivers said. “Erica loved that dog. I wonder who’s taking care of him. I have to call Erica’s mom and find out.”
Nan moved to look at enlargements of snapshots, some on poster board.
Mrs. Rivers said, “Those are from when Erica took the Jane Austen tour in England a couple of years ago. Are you a fan of Jane Austen?”
“My daughter is. I have to confess that I’ve seen the movies but haven’t read her books.”
“Erica was mad for Jane Austen and the English Romantics.” Mrs. Rivers pointed at a photo. “Here’s Pemberley, which she visited on her tour. Those are the curved houses in Bath from Persuasion. Here’s the wall where the girl jumps off. That’s Erica with the Jane Austen statue in the Jane Austen museum.” She slowly let out a long breath.
Nan saw a poster she recognized and went to take a closer look.
“Lord Byron,” Mrs. Rivers said. “He was Erica’s favorite of the Romantic poets.”
Jared Hayword had the same poster in his bedroom.
Nan proceeded to the back of the room and began opening cabinets. They held typical supplies, textbooks, a box of Lemon Zest Luna bars, refillable water bottles, cans of grapefruit-flavored San Pellegrino water, an open package of Trader Joe’s wasabi peas with a chip clip on top, an open package of spearmint Trident chewing gum, and a Totes umbrella. In a closet, along with a few empty hangers, were a white knit zip-front hoodie and a trench coat. On the floor were a pair of athletic shoes and a reusable shopping bag with several more bags crammed inside.
She closed the cabinet doors and returned to the front of the classroom.
Mrs. Rivers joined her. From Erica’s desk, Mrs. Rivers picked up one of the student homework assignments. She flipped to the back page, where Erica had written comments in purple ink. Looking over Rivers’s shoulder, Nan saw that Erica had given the student an A minus. Erica’s handwriting was round and open, looking as youthful as her students’.
“Erica always made thoughtful and inspiring comments.” Mrs. Rivers read one of the comments aloud: “ ‘Wonderful work, Samantha. I’d like to see you go into the characters’ motivations more. I look forward to reading your novel one day. You’ve got the talent!’ ” She put down the paper and picked up another one. “Erica could be tough. Here’s a B.” She picked up another. “Here’s Jared’s.” She turned to the last page to see his grade and said with surprise, “A B minus. She wrote, ‘You didn’t put effort into this, Jared. This is far from the work you’re capable of. If there’s a problem, let’s discuss it.’ Wow.” She flipped the pages back over. “I would have expected better work from Jared, especially in AP English. Erica might have given him a break by not giving him a C.”
“When were those papers turned in?”
Mrs. Rivers looked at the date. “Last Monday. Erica hadn’t finished grading all of them. She might have been working on them the day she was murdered. Jared wouldn’t have known about his grade unless she’d told him. Still, you don’t murder your teacher over getting a B minus on a paper.”
After the skirmish with Ryan here, Erica had distanced herself from Jared. Nan wondered if his anger at Erica had resulted in this half-assed job. “How were Jared’s grades this semester?”
“I can get you a status report.” Mrs. Rivers speed-dialed a number on her cell phone. After a brief conversation, she ended the call and told Nan, “Jared was getting A’s and A pluses.”
“Has Jared’s locker been cleaned out yet?”
“I don’t believe so.”
“I’d like to see it.”
“Of course.” Mrs. Rivers’s cell phone rang. “Pardon me.” She had another brief conversation and then asked for Jared’s locker number. “Detective Vining, I need to attend to something in my office. Please take your time in here and lock the door when you leave. I’ll meet you in twenty minutes by Jared’s locker. It’s number 815 on the other side of the quad.”
“Thank you, Principal Rivers.”
Nan sat at Erica’s desk and began going through the drawers. At first, she found nothing out of the ordinary. In the middle drawer on the side, turned facedown, were two framed photos of Erica and Ryan. One had been taken on their wedding day—white gown, tuxedo, blushing bride, handsome groom. The other photo was of them on the back of a sailboat—wind tousled and sun kissed. Nan recognized the shot of Erica because it had been released to the media with Ryan cropped out. She put the photos back.
The bottom side drawer was locked. She looked for a key in the top center drawer, which was a catchall, and didn’t find one. She did find sturdy paper clips. She took two of them, pulled the wires open, and bent them again differently. Dropping onto her knees, she managed to pick the lock and open the bottom drawer.
Again sitting in the chair, she took out of the drawer a box of six truffles from See’s Candies. Through the clear plastic lid, she saw that none of the truffles had been eaten. A note was tied to the box with a red ribbon through a hole punched in the corner. The notepaper was a sheet of John Hayword’s stationery that had been folded into quarters. Precisely printed in navy-blue fountain pen ink in capital letters was this message: “Dear Mrs. Keller, I know you asked me not to give you gifts, but after your husband attacked you, I thought you’d like a sweet treat.”
Nan took out the other items in the drawer. There was a DVD of the Persuasion movie. There was a gray rock, as large as Nan’s palm. She didn’t get the significance at first, but then she saw that the rock was shaped like a heart. There was a coffee mug printed with WORLD’S BEST TEACHER. There were four of John Hayword’s personalized envelopes and each contained a letter. Jared had addressed all the envelopes the same way, printed in capital letters in navy-blue fountain pen ink: “Mrs. Erica Keller. Personal and Confidential.”
She opened an envelope and took out a sheet of Jared’s dad’s stationery. The letter was dated March 15. In Jared’s eerily precise printing, he’d written
Dear Mrs. Keller,
Both my parents instilled in me the importance of handwritten correspondence, especially thank you notes. So, here I go. Here’s my official thank you for your guidance and wise counsel in helping me with my essay for the Young Journalist competition. I couldn’t have done it without you. We won! Yay us!
Sincerely,
Jared
His signature was as restrained as his printing. The next letter was dated April 1 and the tone was more personal.
Dear Mrs. Keller,
Thoughts of you and your loveliness on a Sunday afternoon. Lord Byron described it best with these words:
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
Your devoted friend,
Jared
This time, he’d signed his name with gusto, making a big loop at the top of the J and drawing a tail at the end of the d, swooping it underneath and back again.
Nan returned the letter to the envelope and opened another one. It was dated two weeks later, April 15, and was much the same as the April 1 letter, including a poem by Lord Byron. The last one was dated April 26, two days after Ryan had assaulted Erica in her classroom. Four pages of stationery were covered with Jared’s tiny, even printing, all in caps. The tone of the content was decidedly darker.
Jared wrote that he was confused as to why Erica had distanced herself from him when he’d protected her from her husband.
You’ve asked me to stop writing you and giving you gifts. I don’t understand why it’s wrong for a student to express his admiration and affection for his favorite teacher. Especially now, when your husband is behaving so cruelly and dangerously. I want you to know that I am your devoted friend and will protect you until my last breath.
He concluded with “Please don’t push me away. You’re my light in this dark world. And when you die, I want to die too.” It was again signed “Your devoted friend” with his flowery signature.
Nan’s heart was heavy as she refolded the pages and put them back into the envelope. She gathered the four letters and tapped the edges together against the desk. She felt badly for Erica, who had lived in fear of her husband and had been caught between a rock and a hard place with Jared. It was clear to Nan that Erica hadn’t reciprocated Jared’s feelings and there had been nothing physical going on between them. In Nan’s view, Erica had made a mistake in trying to gently dissuade Jared’s attentions rather than formally discussing them with his mother and Principal Rivers. Nan understood how Erica had given Jared the benefit of the doubt and had written off his romantic behavior as a schoolboy crush. He would’ve been graduating soon and then presumably out of her life. But Jared’s disturbing last letter suggested that Erica had miscalculated.