“A note. They’ve got a note from me to Bidding asking him to meet me. After school that day. The day he was—”
“That doesn’t mean anything. Teachers were always having meetings with him. He was in charge of discipline, right?” But I knew that even if the note didn’t mean anything it wouldn’t look good and could be spun into something really bad. “Why’d you wanna meet him anyway?”
“Oh, just some problem…” Sullivan sounded evasive. “You know what Bidding was like. He annoyed students even more than faculty and he, he had…”
“What?”
“Nothing. Forget I said anything. This’ll all blow over.” His voice shook and I knew he was just trying to stop me asking questions. “I didn’t do anything wrong. They’ll see that. Don’t worry about it, Marco.”
“I got your back, Mr. Sullivan. If you need anything, just let me know.”
“You’re a good kid, Marco. I’ll be sorry when you graduate… I mean I’m glad you’re graduating. It’s just… you’re one of the best students I’ve worked with and I’ll be sorry to see you go. If I’m not in jail, I mean. Then I won’t even get to see you go.”
“You’ll be at graduation. Besides, I’m not planning on leaving the city for college. My parents can’t afford much.”
“Still, there aren’t many students like you. You’re a different breed than most of the kids here. Not so self absorbed.”
“You gonna be all right, Mr. Sullivan?”
“I’ll be fine,” he said but didn’t sound so sure. Then he stood, took a deep breath, and looked around as if he’d never see the place again. “You take care of the newspaper. You’re the Editor. You’ll get the issue out on time, no problem. I’m sorry I can’t help you guys with it, but the Principal wants me off campus.”
“They kicked you out?”
“Might’ve been worse. They could have had me escorted off the premises.” He turned toward the door. “Got a lot of grading to do anyway. That’ll keep my mind off things.”
“I’ll call to keep you posted. And… I may have some questions… about the paper.” I probably knew enough to get the newspaper out, but I wanted to be sure it’d be okay to call him.
“Anytime. You’ve got my number, right?”
“Yep.” Everybody on staff had everybody’s numbers. A necessity when you ran a paper and a thousand things could go wrong.
He opened the door and glanced back at me as he moved out of the room. He had the saddest, sweetest look on his face. “Take care of yourself, Marco.”
I nodded. I was at a loss for words. It was all unreal. But, I knew right then I had to do something. He wasn’t a murderer and I intended to prove it. Even if I wasn’t sure how or where to start. I’d never done anything like that before but I couldn’t let that stop me.
***
I hung around the office a while longer, but I was too distracted to do any newspaper work. I’d call a staff meeting for the next day, to see what we could come up with. I was edgy and wanted to get moving. Mr. Sullivan’s predicament had invaded my thoughts and wouldn’t let go. I needed to get started on helping him.
Stepping out of the office I noticed how eerie the empty third floor was. The silence was like a blanket. Plenty of light streamed in through the old, leaded-glass windows, but that didn’t help kill the strangeness. This was the oldest part of the old building which had been a Nineteenth Century mansion. The family who’d built it were bigwigs in Philly back then. They liked showing off their money, except these people hadn’t had a whole lot of taste and ended up building a house creepy enough for a horror flick.
As I moved down the hall, I heard the distinctive pock-pock-pock of heels coming up from behind on the old wood floors. Turning around, I saw Ms. Hanford, white lab coat slung over her long red dress, a determined look on her face. She always seemed to be on a mission, even when she was just on her way to lunch. Her mass of frowsy blonde hair obviously couldn’t be tamed, and the look in her eyes said she spent way too much time around kids.
“Hi Ms. Hanford. Not taking advantage of the early dismissal?” I asked, already knowing the answer. She was married to the job and usually stayed around well after most other teachers had gone home. She liked telling everyone how long she labored at her job. You’d think she was getting credit somewhere for all that.
One thing I did know about her was that she told the truth. I kinda have a knack for seeing through a liar and she wasn’t one. Thing is, if Hanford didn’t want to tell you something, she wouldn’t lie. She just wouldn’t talk.
“Got a lot of work to do, Marco. Setting up the labs, grading, you know how it is. A teacher’s work is never done.”
“Shame about Mr. Bidding.”
She was silent. I wasn’t quite sure how to take that.
“Were you here when it happened?” I asked.
“Of course I was here. I’m always here. Why?”
“Oh, no reason.” I paused and started walking, then I turned back. “You didn’t hear anything? That day, I mean.”
“I wasn’t in that part of the building, Marco. I was working in the science wing.”
“Yeah, I was just thinking out loud,” I said. Her domain was in the new building which was a huge glass and metal box by the side of the mansion. Even though that’s where Bidding was murdered, it was still a distance from Hanford’s science domain. “Seems strange that no one heard a thing. Kind of sad that he died that way. Nobody even hearing him.”
“Sad maybe, but someone heard something that day. I remember one of the other teachers told me he’d heard noises or voices.”
“You remember who it was?”
“Why’re you so interested, Marco?”
I debated telling her about Sullivan but then nothing stays secret around here for long. She’d find out, so I figured I’d tell her and see how she reacted.
“I just found out that the police think Mr. Sullivan is a suspect—”
“You’re kidding. They can’t possibly think that.”
“It’s worse. The administration suspended him without pay until everything’s resolved.”
“The bast— Sorry, Marco. But they’re wrong. Brendan isn’t a murderer.”
“Well, maybe the person who heard something can help. If they go to the police. You remember who it was?”
“Lemme think…” She placed a hand to her chin and closed her eyes. “So many people were talking, chattering, really. All nervous chatter. They were all upset, confused. It was an awful day. But one of them said— Who was it? Oh, right. It was Mr. Wheelan. That’s who. He said he’d heard something in that same part of the building. Why don’t you ask him?”
“Sure. I’ll try and find him—”
“He’s gone for the day. Couldn’t wait to leave. Said the place gives him the creeps now.”
“I’ll catch him tomorrow. Thanks a lot, Ms. H.”
She pock-pocked her way down the hall and over the skybridge to the new building.
My stomach growled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast, so I headed to the cafeteria before going home. A few students and teachers sat here and there in the massive room, but the usual noise was absent.
I picked up a Tastykake and a bottle of water from the counter. As I paid I noticed the cop who’d been questioning Mr. Sullivan. He sat alone at a table, flipping through a notebook. I needed to ask him a few questions.
“Hi,” I said, taking a seat across from the man.
He looked up, his dark face growing a shade darker. He obviously didn’t like being disturbed. He said nothing.
“You’re a cop, right?”
“Detective. Detective Bynum What is—”
“Sure, detective, shoulda guessed. Nice to meet you.” I stuck out my hand and we shook. It was cold and quick. He didn’t want to be bothered. “So that’s why you were questioning people.”
“Just doin’ my job. Now, if you—”
“I heard you’re trying to nail Mr. Sullivan for th
is. Is he your top suspect? The police have a term for the one at the top of the list, right?” I thought if I played a little dumb, it might help. Aside from the fact that adults always think kids are dumb anyway.
“Listen, son, maybe you don’t know how things work, but I can’t comment on an investigation in progress.”
“The way kids are talking, you’re pretty sure it’s Sullivan.” I was stretching the truth but I thought it might get him to talk. “Sullivan is a guy who’s afraid of his own shadow. Can’t believe he’d whack somebody.”
“I can tell you this, sometimes guys like that can do some pretty nasty things. And kids like you got no business sticking their nose in police affairs.” He looked at me like I was a kitten who’d wandered out of it’s box. Still, he had a kind face.
“Just trying to help,” I said. I’m glad he thought I was just some kid. Maybe he’d slip and tell me something if he thought I was harmless. “There’s a lot you probably don’t know about a place like this. This school’s funny.”
“Tell me about it,” the detective growled. “You better run along, kid. I got work to do.”
“Well, if you need a guide, or somebody on the inside, lemme know,” I said and smiled, trying to seem dumb and innocent.
“Yeah, sure. I’ll give you a holler,” he said more to his notebook than to me.
I turned around to leave then turned back again. “Uh, excuse me, detective?”
He looked up, his frown deeper, his eyes cutting into me. “What is it now?”
“Anybody tell you they might’a heard anything that day? You know, when Mr. Bidding was… killed.”
“Listen, son, this is no kinda work for a kid. Let us handle it. We got it covered.”
He wasn’t about to crack. I had to admire his ability to keep things under his hat. I needed information, though, so I’d have to find a way to soften him up.
“Well, in case nobody else tells you, somebody did hear something that day. Don’t let ‘em tell you otherwise.” I stood and looked him in the eye. “So long, Detective. If you need any help, my name’s Marco. Ask anybody how to find me.”
The look on his face told me he didn’t have as much information as I had and he was curious. Maybe too proud to admit it yet. But he would.
I left the detective thinking about what I’d said and found another table where my friend Sam sat eating a greasy-looking egg and sausage sandwich. Healthy lunches for growing boys. That’s what the school menu said.
***
When Sam and I ran out of jokes to tell and food to eat, he claimed he had to get home and left. It was late, and I figured I should do the same. A night with no homework was a good thing. St. T’s policy was that, on an average day, every student went home with at least three or four hours of homework.
I shrugged into my backpack and ambled out of the cafeteria. Made sure I had a token for the bus and walked through the empty foyer.
Unlike the morning chaos, there was a deadly stillness now, until the door to the Principal’s office opened and the police detective stomped out. Shaking his head as if he was frustrated, he swiped a hand over his face. Looked like he could use a friend.
“Hey, Detective Bynum,” I said as I walked toward him. “Looks like you just got a taste of the Principal’s famous personality.”
“Yeah, well, you gotta expect things on a case like this,” he said, sounding like he wasn’t expecting whatever the Principal had dished out.
“Anything I can—”
“I got a job to do and some people don’t realize what that means,” he said more to himself than to me. “Your Principal just read me the riot act. Says he’s got a school to run and boys to protect. And I should get my investigation over quick. Like that’s gonna be easy. He ain’t gonna give me much space. How am I supposed to work like that?”
“You need somebody to smooth the way or find some short cuts.”
“Like that’s gonna happen. Budget cuts are mak—”
“I can help.”
“You gonna go toe to toe with that man in there?” He pointed over his shoulder to the Principal’s office.
“This is my fourth year at St. T’s,” I said. I was going to say ‘St. Torture Chamber’ but thought better of it. “I’ve learned a thing or two about getting around obstacles. Besides, I work on the school newspaper. I know my way around better than most.”
“Well, maybe you can help, at that,” he said, and a tentative smile broke out across his broad, dark face. “Nothin’ official, though. Unnerstand? But if you hear anything or see anything, keep me in the loop.” He pulled out a card with his name and number on it. “That’s good day or night.”
“Will do,” I said, glad to have his cooperation. Now I could ask questions and feel like I had a right to do it.
“Keep this between us, uh, what’d you say your name was?”
“Marco. Marco Fontana,” I said and stuck out my hand. “I’ll keep it informal.”
“You’ll be my confidential informant. With the emphasis on confidential, got it?” The stern expression increased the lines on his face. “Don’t go gettin’ yourself hurt.”
“Never crossed my mind, detective.”
“Guess I’ll see you around, then. As long as your Principal allows me to do what I’ve gotta do.”
***
Nobody was at home when I got there, which was good. I had some thinking to do and I didn’t need my family asking questions.
With four brothers and a sister, no house is big enough. You never get much space to yourself and privacy is just a word. I shared a room with my younger brother. My older brothers shared another room and my sister got her own room all to herself. Unless you counted the fact that mom used it as her sewing room and the place was stuffed with material and thread and whatever else you use when you make clothes.
It wasn’t too bad, though. My older brothers were always out, either working or playing ball. My sister was in college and was hardly ever home and my younger brother was still in grammar school. Which meant he was a pain but easily intimidated. Still didn’t make things easy.
I flopped onto the bed with the cordless phone and dialed Cullen, who was also a senior at St. T’s. He lived on the Main Line but was never uppity like most of the other suburban kids. He definitely fit in with the rich set at St. T’s, but he told me he never really felt a part of the world they lived in. He knew them all and they liked him. In fact they probably liked him lots more because he didn’t really want to be part of their world and that intrigued them.
“I guess you left with the herd,” I said when Cullen answered the phone. “I needed to talk, but you were gone.”
“Hadda leave. They cancelled practice and that’s rare. Besides, if I spent one more minute in that place, I would’ve exploded,” Cullen said, his voice a mix of man and boy. “So, what’s up? Got gossip?”
“Not really, but I’ve got a problem and you can help.”
“A problem…? Hey, I like you and all but I’m not like you, if you know what I mean.” Cullen laughed. He loved teasing me and I got the feeling there was a lot more beneath the surface of all that teasing. Cullen was a tall blond Nordic type with haunting ice-blue eyes. He also had the sweetest smile, which got him about anything he wanted.
“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t think of hitting on you.” Not unless I had even a hint that you’d respond, I thought.
“Why not? I’m hot. All the girls say so…” Cullen almost sounded hurt.
“Because I’ve got other things on my mind.”
“Like?”
“Like the fact that the police consider Mr. Sullivan a suspect in Bidding’s murder, and the school placed him on unpaid leave until this is all over.”
“Get out! That’s fucking nuts. But how’s that your problem?”
“I don’t like seeing somebody railroaded. Just because the police suspect Sullivan, the school goes all red alert and kicks him to the curb.”
“Yeah, well, St. T’s has alway
s been that kind of place. My father and my grandfather tell me stories all the time about when they were students. And you know what?”
“What?”
“Things don’t change. That place has been the same for more than a hundred years.”
“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” I punched a pillow to make things more comfortable, then lay back again. “Besides, he’s one of the good guys on the faculty, and St. T’s doesn’t have that many.”
“So I guess that means we’re goin’ to help Sullivan, right?” he said.
That’s what I liked about Cullen. He was willing to get involved. Not many of the rich kids at school were like that. They were more concerned with cars and clothes and what they were gonna do down the shore in the summer at the fancy homes their parents owned.
Cullen wasn’t like that at all. His family had money, but they’d taught him something about being a decent human being, too.
“I’m gonna scout around and see if I can come up with anything. I’ll have more of a plan once I think about the situation. Let’s talk tomorrow at lunch.”
***
I got to school earlier than usual the next morning. One long bus ride and I was there. The usual early birds scuttled through the halls to their favorite hangouts. Library assistants, the A-V kids, the crew team coming back in after early morning practice, and the rest. Anybody without a place to go usually congregated in the cafeteria which is where I headed. The smell of grease was too tempting, and I decided I was still hungry after breakfast at home. The caf is cavernous. It has to be to accommodate the number of students we have.
Before getting in line to order, I spotted Mr. Wheelan, sitting alone in a far corner, chowing down on something while reading a newspaper. I figured it’d be the best chance I’d get to question him.
Forgetting my hunger for a minute, I walked over to his table and sat down. Mesmerized by his food and the newspaper, Wheelan didn’t look up until I’d been sitting across from him for a minute or two.
Bald, red-faced, and plump, Wheelan’s chipmunk cheeks bulged as he smiled at me while turning a bright pink. He kinda reminded me of a leprechaun, a pudgy one.
Crimes on Latimer: From the Early Cases of Marco Fontana Page 2