Crimes on Latimer: From the Early Cases of Marco Fontana

by DeMarco, Joseph R. G.

  “How ya doin’ Mr. Wheelan?”

  “Just fine, Marco. What can I do for you? Need a Latin refresher?”

  “Nope, had all I can take. Just thought I’d say hi.”

  “Getting sentimental in your senior year? It happens. Hard to leave and St. T’s has been your home, after all.”

  “Something like that,” I said. “Did you hear that they suspended Mr. Sullivan?”

  “Mr. Sullivan? Suspended? Why? When did this happen?”

  “Yesterday. The police consider him a suspect in Mr. Bidding’s murder and the administration kicked him to the curb like a devil worshipper.” I let that sink in for a moment. “Anyway, I was hoping maybe you could help.”

  “Me? How can I help? I don’t know anything about what’s going on. Didn’t even know Sulllivan was gone.”

  “Were you here the day Bidding was killed?”

  “Yes, I was. So were a lot of people.” He was growing a little uncomfortable, as if his seat were shrinking.

  “It was a busy day, even after school. I remember.”

  “If you remember that, then you remember there were lots of people here”

  “It’s funny though…” I paused.

  “What’s funny?” he asked then placed a small chunk of pound cake into his mouth.

  “Like you say, there were a lot of people here, but no one reported to the police that they heard or saw anything.”

  “Probably because they didn’t. Don’cha think?”

  “But you did hear something.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “The same person you told. Ms. Hanford.” I smiled and tried looking innocent.

  He was silent and gingerly broke his pound cake into even smaller pieces.

  “What’s it to you anyway? Let the police handle this.”

  “Maybe I took some of my lessons too seriously, like helping someone in trouble. Or helping the falsely accused. You know. I don’t like seeing Mr. Sullivan getting a raw deal. I kinda thought you had the same moral compass.”

  He thought that over a minute. He always talked about doing the right thing. So I just stared and waited.

  “I was there that day. Like a lot of people.” He looked around guiltily.

  “You were near the… um, the stairwell?”

  “Ye—yes, I was walking by that stairwell. I heard kids running down from a couple of floors above. Sounded like a lot of them. Laughing, talking, foul language. Nothing unusual. After school, kids are all over this place like ants on candy. You know how it is.” He looked at me as if for confirmation.

  I nodded. “Sure.”

  “But, as I walked, I heard Bidding clomping down the steps. He’s got a heavy walk. Had, I mean. I didn’t think anything of it because he usually spent time chasing kids down. I figured he was on a mission.” He shook his head. “The last thing I heard was Bidding saying something like, ‘It’s leaky. Stop it. It’s leaky!’ Which didn’t make sense. By the time I stopped to give it another thought I was nowhere near the stairwell.”

  “No idea what he meant by that?” I watched his eyes. You can tell when they’re lying. At least I usually could. He wasn’t.

  “No idea. But Bidding didn’t always make sense.” He looked down at his cake then popped another piece into his mouth.

  “You’re not the only one who says that.” I implied that others had talked to me. He didn’t have to know it was just other students complaining.

  “He could be inconsistent sometimes, but he had a hard job. Which one of us isn’t guilty of being inconsistent? Still, there are rules, and he didn’t always apply them equally. Kids don’t like that. Drives them crazy. Between you ‘n me, I think he got a kick out of making some of them a little crazy.” He looked at me as if he’d said something he shouldn’t have, as if he’d just realized he was talking to one of the enemy, so to speak.

  “Yeah, we can be crazy sometimes. But my aunt’s a teacher, so I know how hard it is. Besides, I liked Bidding. He was always fair to me.” So I was kinda stretching the truth, but I needed Wheelan to trust me.

  “Bidding was all right. He had a tough life, but he was a good man.” Wheelan said tacking away from his original thought.

  “I’ve heard. I used to talk to Damian.”

  “His son? Poor kid. Can’t even imagine what he must be going through.” Wheelan seemed to have lost his appetite and pushed the remainder of his cake away. “You guys are gonna have to be nice to him when he gets back to school.”

  “Yeah, everybody’s talking. I heard he’s coming back tomorrow. I guess he needs to get back into things.”

  “He’s got no other family. Maybe he feels safe here.”

  “I’ll make sure to keep an eye out for him.

  “That’s what I like to hear, Marco. You’re a cut above the others.”

  “Nah, I’m just like all the rest. I’m sure I gave Bidding as hard a time as most other kids.”

  “I don’t think so. Your name never came up when we talked.”

  “Other kids gave him a tough time?”

  “Got a couple of hours so I can read the list?” He pulled the cake back and munched on a few more pieces. “Would you believe that I actually heard one kid say he wanted to tack Bidding’s skin to the wall and throw darts at it. What kind of world…”

  “Wow! That’s cold.”

  “That’s what I mean, Marco. You’re nothing like that.”

  “Kids are all talk. No one would actually ever do that. They’re teenagers and underneath they’re all scared little babies.” I’d talked to enough of the kids in school to know. To me, it seemed like some of them were being cruel because they were covering up something deeper in themselves that they didn’t much like. They didn’t think anyone else would like them either, so they pushed everyone away with cruel behavior.

  “If you think like that, Marco, don’t become a teacher. They’re not ‘little babies’ as you say. Some of the students here were born vicious. Can’t really trust ‘em.”

  “Can’t be that bad. I don’t know anybody that vicious, do you?” I watched him polish off the cake.

  “I’ve had five of the worst ones in my classes in the past two or three years. Paul Lazar, Rodney Wilton, Teddy Nalan, Jim Colavecchia, Brian Donlon. All seniors, so you should know ‘em. And they’re grooming Damian Bidding to take over when they graduate. They’ve started poisoning the well. How’s that for vicious?”

  “Never really talked to that bunch. They always gave me the creeps. So I steered clear. You think they’re vicious enough to hurt anybody?”

  “Who knows what they’re capable of? But if you’re implying they could’ve hurt Bidding… No, I don’t believe that. They’re bad news but I can’t implicate them in anything just because I don’t like them.”

  I glanced down at my watch and realized I still had a few things to do before class.

  “Gotta go, Mr. Wheelan. Thanks for talking.” I stood and was about to turn away when I remembered something. “Why didn’t you tell the police what you heard?”

  “I…I didn’t think it would be helpful. Meaningless really.” He brushed off his shirt, then ruffled his newspaper and shut me out.

  I still had to look at the scene of the crime, before the police and the school cleaned everything up. Now would be better since hardly anyone was in the building yet. Trekking over to the new building would give me a chance to think.

  When I stepped over the threshold into the new building, it was like walking through a time portal. Behind me everything was old, creaky, and sinister. Before me the new building gleamed. It was like a bright smile and technologically it was miles ahead of the old place.

  I had to pass Bidding’s office to get to the stairwell and I couldn’t avoid saying “Hi” to his secretary, Mrs. MacFee. She was the heart of his operation and knew all our names. MacFee was also a busybody and had access to everyone’s record and more. She knew lots more than she let on.

  She was usually ensconced at her d
esk in the outer office. No one was there, but the door to Bidding’s inner office was open. I edged a little closer to see what I could see. I was getting to like the idea of skulking around and digging up information without anyone knowing.

  “You gonna be okay, hon?” The voice belonged to her husband who worked around in the building on a part-time basis. I’d talked to him a few times.

  “Yeah, doll, I’ll be fine,” MacFee’s drawn out words and high pitched voice answered.

  “Things don’t look good around here,” he said.

  “Everybody’s kinda glum, so I gotta at least look like I care a little that the big galoot is dead. But I don’t.”

  “Hon.” His tone was gently admonishing.

  “The wicked witch is dead and I ain’t sorry.” She paused. “Don’t look around. Nobody’s gonna hear. This is… was his inner sanctum. Nobody comes near this place. That’s how much they all hated him.”

  “How’d you do...”

  “What? You think… ha! It was easier than you imagine. Fact is I thought it was gonna be hard, y’know?”

  “What’re you saying?”

  “Once I decided, it was like one, two, three. Yep. Soon as I knew he was gone, I didn’t waste time. He’s gone and I’m sittin’ in his chair. Where I should’a been all along. Since I do all the work anyway.” She paused and I imagined her plumping her hair as she always did. “See? Your old lady ain’t no slouch. She gets things done.”

  “But, hon, he’s… dead.”

  “He always thought he was better ‘n everybody. Just ‘cause he taught Latin. Some shit that is. Latin. Who cares?”

  “But, I can’t imagine… You sure you’re all right with all the extra work?”

  “It’s done. And I’m gonna push for this job. I know things inside out, I was the one who did all the work anyway. They need me.”

  Their voices got lower and I had a feeling they were ending their conversation, so I edged my way back toward the entrance. I couldn’t believe what I’d heard. I’d always had the feeling she didn’t like her boss, but she didn’t strike me as the killer type. What did I know? I was new at all this. Now I had to decide what to do about what I’d heard.

  Her husband, big and lumpy, left her office with a rolling gait. He saw me and his eyes turned beady. I’d never crossed him, but the times I’d seen him, it was clear he wasn’t fond of kids.

  “Hey Mr. MacFee. Is Mrs. MacFee in?”

  “Shouldn’t you be in class?”

  “Not yet. How’re you doing?”

  He mumbled something and brushed by me as he left. I continued on toward the inner office.

  “Hi, Mrs. MacFee.” I said as I poked my head in the doorway.

  An older woman with a face full of wrinkles, she looked up at me warily at first. Her trademark washed-out blond hair formed a stiff conch shell around her head. She wore glasses with corners rising into sharp points like alien goggles. When she saw it was me, she smiled.

  “Marco, doll. How are you? Sad times. Are you takin’ care of yourself?” Her voice was soothing. Another trademark feature.

  “How are you holding up? Must be hard…” I looked as doleful as I could. She and Bidding had worked closely together, but she always seemed to resent him.

  “I’m… I’m doin’ okay, hon. This office is so busy I don’t get much chance to think about other things anyway.” She made a show of shuffling papers.

  “Shame about Mr. Sullivan. Seems like everything is blowing up around here,” I said and watched her.

  “Yeah,” the look on her face was noncommittal, as if she didn’t want to appear to be taking sides. But I could tell she’d already done that.

  “Poor guy really needs some help.”

  “Don’t we all?” She turned back to her paperwork. “I got my hands full here now. That’s for sure.”

  “I might need some information for the school newspaper. We’re doin’ a story on Mr. Bidding, and I know you probably have lots of memories.” I thought this might be a good way to get her to talk.

  Before she could answer, a student blew in from the hall like a runaway dustball. He carried a sheaf of papers and laid them on her desk. “Morning attendance reports for Mr. Bid…” The kid caught himself. “Sorry … I mean… who gets them now?”

  “Don’t worry, Andy, honey. We’re all makin’ that mistake. I’ll take the reports.”

  The kid left, head down until he got to the door then he breezed out, happy again.

  “Was I ever that small? Freshmen seem so young,” I said.

  “That’s because you were young. You started earlier than most. And yeah, you were a peanut like him. Not anymore, though.” She laughed and gave me a quick glance.

  “Guess you see all kinds in this office. You gotta love kids to do this kind of work.”

  “They’re all good kids. People just hafta take the time to see that. I used to tell Pat the same thing: take the time to look. Try and understand what they’re goin’ through. He never…” she stopped herself and looked guilty. “He had a difficult time, sometimes.”

  “You must feel awful right now. Can’t be an easy time for you. You and Mr. Bidding were close, right?”

  “Depends what you mean, Marco. We weren’t close friends. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t respect him.”

  “Could’a fooled me. It always looked like the two of you were good friends. Always joking and laughing. Everybody thought this office ran so well because of that.”

  “Well…” She looked down at her desk piled with notes, papers, and rubber bands. The make-up was thick on her face and her perfume was beginning to overwhelm. “He was my boss, but he wasn’t a person you could get close to. You won’t find too many here who liked him.” She gave me that look again, as if she’d slipped.

  “You mean there were people here who hated him?”

  “Hated? I don’t know…” She paused. “You’re not gonna put any of that in the school paper, are you?”

  “Not me. Bidding and I got along and I’m not gonna do a hatchet job on him. But maybe it’s good for me to know so I can avoid talking to people who hated him… I mean, didn’t like him.”

  “Good point, Marco. You’re smart, but I always knew that.” She gave me one of her motherly looks. She was exactly that type, which is why so many people responded to her and opened up to her. She probably new plenty about a lot of things. Just a matter of getting her to talk.

  “So who should I avoid? When I’m interviewing people.”

  “As far as students, Pat argued a lot with some of them. But that’s normal. I mean, I’ve been around schools and kids all my life, hon, and arguing with kids is just the way of it. I’ve had some knock down sessions myself. Like Teddy Nalan. He and I don’t get along. Hates me for no reason, the stupid lump of flesh.” She made a face as if she had swallowed sour milk.

  “Did Mr. Bidding ever argue with him?”

  “Sure. The kid is malicious. He’s like poison. The sooner he graduates, the better. He and Bidding had a real fight once.”

  “How do you mean real?”

  “Oh, not fists or anything. Just yelling. If I was his mother I’d’ve slapped him silly. But when she comes in, all you hear is how sweet her son is and what a good Christian boy he is. Christian? He doesn’t know how to spell it, let alone be it. The mother is just as bad. The fruit doesn’t fall far from the tree, hon. Remember that.”

  “Did you hear any of their argument?”

  “Of course I did. Everybody in the office and down the hall heard it. But there weren’t any threats, if that’s what you’re drivin’ at. They just yelled at each other. Things like, ‘You’ll do what you’re told.’ Or ‘You can’t tell me what to do. Nobody can.’ Nothing you could use in court.” She winked at me and I thought I saw her make-up crack.

  “Yeah, kids are always sayin’ things like that. It doesn’t mean much, I guess.”

  “Well, there was something strange, now that you mention it.”

  I
waited.

  “Pat told Teddy to stay away from his son. You know Damian, right? He’s a junior but I bet you know who he is. Poor kid, he must feel terrible.” Her eyes filled with tears and a few broke and fell, tumbling over her thick makeup. “Sorry, hon. Didn’t mean to break down like that.”

  “It’s understandable,” I said, leaning on the counter, looking sympathetic.

  “I feel so sorry for some of the kids. They don’t have it easy. They may be rich and all, but they come from families like everyone, and some families are sick.”

  “Even Damian?” I coaxed.

  “Damian, too. Mr. Bidding wasn’t easy on his son. Pat used to teach classics here, before your time, and poor Damian never measures up in that subject. This is not an easy school, even for the best students. Damian is pretty bright, has a 3.8 average. But Classics is his weak point.” She shook her head sadly. “Sometimes I think he didn’t do well on purpose, just to get his father’s goat. They had a few hiccups about that, I can tell you.” She rolled her eyes extravagantly. “Bidding was never satisfied with Damian’s grades, or his extracurricular activities, or his friends.”

  “Particularly Teddy Nalan?”

  “Others, too. Ed Ryan, Jimmy Dale, and a couple others. I guess they all hung out because they’re not exactly like the other kids. Not rich. Here because their parents work here and they get a scholarship. But Damian drove his father nuts.”

  “Hey, that’s our job!” I said trying to lighten the mood but also get her to feel comfortable enough to keep talking. “We have to make our parents crazy. It’s in the contract. And having weird friends is one of the best ways to do that.”

  MacFee laughed so much she began to cough.

  “You’re funny, Marco. You should visit more. I need a laugh.”

  “I’ll bet. Dealing with discipline problems is bound to get to you.”

  “Oh, they’re not that bad. I mean, every kid has something good in him. That’s what I believe. I suppose even Teddy Nalan has something good somewhere deep down. He can’t be as bad as he acts. He just can’t,” she sighed. “But Pat didn’t like any of the students. Even the really good ones. That’s the impression I got. And when Damian started to be more and more like his friends, Pat hated it. They had fi— I mean arguments all the time.”