“You said you want us to get back together, Em. How, exactly? Do you mean you want to move back in again?”
“I don’t think so, do you? It’s too soon for that. You haven’t even said if you want me back in your life. In fact, you haven’t said anything at all. How do you feel about this, Nicky?”
Drumm sat back in his chair. How did he feel? His nervousness was gone and he suddenly realized he wanted her as much as he had ever done. “I want you, Em. Badly. I’ve missed you and I probably need you as well. But I can’t go through what we went through before. I just can’t. It would kill me. So, I guess what I’m saying is, I’d like to try again but only if we can absolutely trust each other to make it work. What do you need me to do? But you have to know, I can’t quit the force. I’m a cop – it’s what I do. It’s what I’ll always do.”
“I just need you to be yourself, Nicky. Your job is your job and it will always be important to you. But make time for me and I will make time for you. And I think we can make it work.”
“Of course I can do that, Emily. But I can’t remake myself as someone different. I am what I am. And there will be times when the job will have to come first. You know that.”
Emily had a somewhat rueful smile on her face. “I don’t want you to be different, Nicky. I’ve already said that. Well, maybe to pick up your clothes a little more often! But, no, I want me to be different, not you. I know your damned career will get in the way sometimes. I’ve learned to deal with it. Just always come home to me.”
Their meals finished, their server arrived to remove the remains of the meals. They declined dessert or anything further, asking for the bill instead.
Drumm had been contemplating something the entire meal. He now felt sufficiently confident to say what was on his mind. “The leather jacket, Em? It’s new, isn’t it? That was the something special you were going to wear, right? I like it – it suits you.”
Emily gave a sly smile. “The jacket? Oh no, Nicky. Thanks for the compliment but, no, that wasn’t the special something. This is.” She slowly pulled the zipper down which had been done up all this time. Underneath she was wearing a black lace camisole, which, it became clear, was totally transparent. Emily lowered the zipper several inches and pulled the jacket slightly open, enough that Drumm could see the tops of her small breasts under the thin material. Drumm’s mouth was suddenly dry.
“God, Emily, you look fabulous!” His hand started across the table as if drawn by a magnet.
“Why thank you, sir.” Emily had a mischievous smile on her face. “Glad you like it. But you may not touch!” She said this as his hand was getting close to its goal. His hand stopped dead and he slowly withdrew it. The waiter was returning with their bill and Emily unhurriedly zipped up her jacket again. Drumm sighed and went through the rest of the end-of-meal business, and then walked outside with Emily.
“Did you have to cover up, Em? You know I like to linger over lingerie.”
“I have to scoot, Nicky. I have a showing. A house, I mean.” There was the mischievous smile again. “Can we meet again tomorrow?”
Drumm nodded his head, still thinking about Emily’s camisole. He had always been a sucker for sexy underwear. “I’ll call you.”
She stepped forward, kissed him lightly on the mouth and walked away. “See that you do!”
Drumm met Lori Singh back at Elmdale. “How was your lunch, Nick?”
Drumm smiled. “I can truthfully say it was delectable!” He was in a good mood.
Lori Singh looked at him uncertainly, not sure what to make of this response. Did he mean delicious?
They strolled outside in the afternoon sun. Elmdale’s student population was enjoying the outdoor portion of their second break. Drumm and Singh watched the activity in the yard. There were hundreds of children, all over the place, and they were making a great deal of noise. There were three staff members wearing bright orange vests supervising. They were constantly being approached and sometimes surrounded by kids. Drumm knew these students would be tattling, crying, telling stories, or just hanging around. Rarely were teachers allowed to walk around in peace and tranquility. They had to watch the interaction of hundreds of children and solve any problems that arose. It helped to have eyes in the back of your head.
It was hard to believe that a teacher at this school had been murdered. There was no sign of it amongst the students. He supposed that was a good thing; kids were pretty resilient. Drumm was also trying to get his mind around the fact that teachers here had been having sex in the change rooms. Sarah Noonan must have had a strong reason indeed to risk her career that way. And to go to school without underwear of any sort – if Kevin Callaghan was to be believed – Drumm had never heard of or seen a female teacher do that. Thinking about it, he could understand Donald Musjari’s frustration, and Callaghan’s interest. And thinking about that got him to pondering Emily’s transparent camisole during their lunch date. The school bell’s strident clang put an end to that pleasant memory.
Bill Deans was the next to enter the interview room; his forehead was glistening and he was flushed from exertion. He had been one of the three orange vests out on duty, and there had been plenty for him to do, as Drumm had seen for himself. Deans was a tall, good-looking man with a shock of black, curly hair. He had a ready grin and a strong handshake. He removed his orange vest as he entered the room, revealing a pale green dress shirt and matching tie over top of black pants. Drumm knew that between the school yard and Room 223, as vice-principal, Bill Deans would have been approached by a number of teachers. In most schools, the VP was in charge of discipline. Deans would always be asked to deal with this crisis or that bullying incident. It was a thankless job and a person was usually only willing to do it as a necessary stepping stone to becoming a principal.
“Busy time out there, Mr. Deans,” Drumm said, closing the door. The vice-principal sank gratefully into one of the chairs.
“Oh, it wasn’t too bad. Some days are worse than others. Today was fairly typical.”
Drumm had arranged that Lori Singh would conduct this interview, so she began. “How long have you been vice-principal here, Mr. Deans?”
“This is my first year here. I was an intermediate teacher for the past few years at Secord Elementary, got shortlisted last year, made the cut and was given this position for this year. I was a bit surprised to get it.”
“Why was that?”
“Oh, because I’m male. These days it’s usually skirts that are being promoted. The school districts are trying to make up for years of unfairness. Used to be that every principal and vice-principal was male, you see. You’d have a whole school of female teachers and the administration was male. Didn’t make sense, when you think about it. That’s all changed now. Anyway, that’s why I was surprised; I thought I’d have to wait a while before I got a position. Also, I didn’t think I did too well in the interviews. I had a bit of trouble with some of those behavioural interview questions.” Deans flashed his smile. “Some of them are tricky.”
Lori said, “I see. Were you and Sarah Noonan friendly?”
Deans’ smile disappeared. “Yes, I’d say so. We had a lot of contact, her being an intermediate teacher and me being in charge of discipline. She had some challenging students whom I had to deal with.”
“So you got along well then?”
“Sure. I try to get along with everyone. Sarah was no different.”
“Are you married, Mr. Deans?”
“No.”
“Are you in a relationship with anyone?”
“No.” Deans was looking annoyed. “Are these personal questions necessary?”
Drumm answered before Lori could. “A beautiful, young colleague of yours was brutally murdered, Mr. Deans. We’re trying to find out who did it. Her personal life, and the personal life of everyone at this school, are of interest to us. So, yes, these questions are necessary.”
Singh continued. “Did you have any kind of personal relationship with Sarah
Noonan? Anything outside of school business, that is?”
“I’ve had a few drinks with her after work now and then, if that’s what you mean. But there were always other teachers there. It was never just the two of us.”
“What did you think of her, Mr. Deans?”
“Sarah? She was a good teacher. The kids liked her.”
“I meant as a woman, Mr. Deans. Did you find her attractive?”
“Well, of course I did, Detective Singh. She was a pretty woman.” Bill Deans wasn’t smiling now. In fact, he looked rather uncomfortable.
“Did you find the way she dressed appealing?”
“The way she dressed? I can’t say I noticed.”
“Sarah Noonan was a tease and a flirt, Mr. Deans. We’ve had a number of people confirm this. The clothing she wore was designed to show her off. Are you saying you didn’t see that?”
“I repeat, I can’t say I really noticed. I have too much to do around here to pay attention to what the teachers are wearing.” He paused, looked at his watch and then asked Drumm, “Are we almost done here? I have a bunch of stuff to get to.”
Drumm said, “Almost, Mr. Deans. Can you account for your movements Friday after 3:30 p.m.?”
“Friday? Well, I left here about four, I think. I had some shopping to do. I made myself a nice dinner and watched a movie.”
Singh asked, “Can anyone verify that, Mr. Deans?”
Deans stared at her. “About the shopping, yes, I think so. The rest, no. I live alone.” He waited, then said, “Am I a suspect then?”
Drumm ignored this, then said, “One last question, Mr. Deans. Did you at any time have sex with Sarah Noonan?”
“Of course, I didn’t!” Bill Deans’ face was quite red by now. “I must go.” And he got up and left the room.
Drumm got up and closed the door. “What do you think, Lori?”
“Oh, I’d say they did it,” Lori said cheerfully. “Wouldn’t you? And that bit about not noticing what she was wearing: that was crap, I’d say.”
Drumm smiled. “A bit hard to believe. Yes, I’d say our Mr. Deans is a liar alright.” He paused. “Let’s get some of the Bitchin’ Crew in here.”
Muriel Atkinson confirmed their suspicions. “He said what?” She had a look of disbelief on her face.
Drumm repeated, “Mr. Deans told us that he didn’t notice what Sarah wore to school. And that he knew her only as well as the other staff.”
Muriel Atkinson snorted. She was an older woman, likely in her mid-fifties, with a severe-looking face. “Well, who am I to contradict my vice-principal?” she said. She adjusted her glasses and sat forward on her chair. “On the other hand, you need to know. Bill watched every move she made. And she knew it. And loved it. And I can tell you for a fact that he knew her a lot better than he knew me.”
Drumm was watching Mrs. Atkinson as she spoke. Her mouth got a pinched look to it as she spoke, and her nostrils flared. It was apparent that she was not fond of Bill Deans. “Go on,” he said.
“He and Sarah were an item. Everybody knew that. You could tell just by looking at him. And there was a story about them having sex here at school. I’ve been around long enough to know that when that many people are repeating something, it’s most likely true.”
Drumm asked, “You’re a special education teacher here, aren’t you, Mrs. Atkinson?”
“I am. For twenty-nine years.”
“And we’ve been told you didn’t like Sarah Noonan. That you called her a slut, in fact. Is that right?”
“Who told you that?” Mrs. Atkinson sat up straight, then relaxed. “Doesn’t matter. She was a slut, and yes, I said it once. She dressed like a slut, and from what I’ve heard, she acted like one too. I’m not the only one who felt that way, either.”
Drumm said, “Back to Mr. Deans. You think he and Sarah had a sexual relationship, then?”
“Of course he did. Everyone knew it. And if he says differently, he’s lying. Not that that would be a first.”
Lori said, “You don’t like Bill Deans, Mrs. Atkinson?”
“Can’t stand him,” she said cheerfully. “He’s all show. He pretends to do the job but he hasn’t got a spine.”
Curious, Drumm asked, “Do you think he killed her then?”
Mrs. Atkinson said, “I wouldn’t really know. That’s your job, isn’t it? But it wouldn’t surprise me at all.”
“One more thing, Mrs. Atkinson,” Drumm said. “What were you doing Friday night?”
Muriel Atkinson stood up. “I was out with my husband. We were in the city, having dinner and attending the symphony. We didn’t get back until after midnight.” She looked at Drumm, then Lori Singh. “I didn’t like Sarah, but I certainly didn’t kill her.”
eleven
Back in Drumm’s office the afternoon meeting had just begun. Mark Chappell knocked on the door and immediately entered. He nodded curtly to Wesson and Singh and then addressed Drumm. “I need a progress report, Nick. What have you got for me?”
“Well, we have lots of suspects, sir. Seems like almost everyone at Elmdale Elementary was involved with Sarah Noonan in one way or another. Most of them had motive and opportunity. Right now the chief person of interest is her husband.” Drumm outlined for Chappell what they knew of Terry Noonan, his past and his relationship with his wife.
“What about lab results? What are they telling you?”
“They haven’t come in yet, sir. Must be a backlog. As usual.”
Chappell was not impressed. “It’s been four days since the body was found, five or six since she was killed. I was expecting more progress than this, Nick. I’m getting a lot of enquiries from the media about it. They want answers. I want answers. Get them to me. I want a full report every afternoon, starting tomorrow.” And the Staff Inspector turned on his heel and left the room.
Drumm grinned ruefully at Wesson and Singh. “Can’t blame him, I guess. He’s probably getting heat from above, so he passes it on to me. Maybe I should do the same to you two.” He looked over at Karl. “I want results, Karl, and I want them now! Actually, I’ll settle for an account of your day.” Karl had been down in Toronto all day checking into Hobbes Transport and interviewing Jack Melanson.
Karl said. “Right, first of all, Hobbes Transport. No red flags there, nothing out of the ordinary. It’s a limited company, incorporated in 1980, employs around forty people. Its business is mainly moving auto parts, but they do a bit of everything.”
Drumm nodded. “Go on.”
“I had some trouble locating Jack Melanson. He’s not in the trucking business anymore. He’s a driver for a private courier company. Wynn’s Delivery Services, it’s called. He was reluctant to talk at first but I persuaded him.” Karl smiled. “He didn’t want to come all the way up here. Anyway, he confirmed that he had witnessed Douglas Madsen and Sarah Noonan having sexual intercourse in the back of a truck cab. He couldn’t remember exactly when – a few months ago was the best he could do – but he did remember that she was on top, with her skirt up. He – Melanson that is – had gone into the back of another cab to pick something up and caught them at it. They didn’t notice him, he says.”
Drumm said, “He was sure it was her? And she was on top? It was no rape then.”
“He was sure. No rape, Nick. His exact words were, ‘She was bouncing up and down on him like a bobblehead doll.’” Wesson smiled at the memory.
Drumm frowned. “OK, so we have another sexual partner for Sarah Noonan. How many does that make?” Drumm was counting on his fingers. “One, Jack Melanson, two, Kevin Callaghan, three, probably, Bill Deans, four, maybe, Terry Noonan? And who knows who else.”
Drumm proceeded to fill Wesson in on the results of the day’s interviews. There had been a lot of people in and out of Room 223. “Are we any closer to figuring out who killed her?”
Lori answered. “Well, we don’t know where, we don’t know why and we don’t know who. We are pretty sure of what and when. So, we’re definitely close
r than Sunday morning, but we don’t know most of the important stuff.”
Karl said, “As for who, you are thinking…?”.
Drumm said, “Noonan, obviously: he had the time and the motive. Greg Parent – he definitely had a reason to be angry with her. Pierre Pepin – I think it’s pretty clear he knows more about this than he’s saying. Same goes for James Shaughnessy. Donald Musjari: he has no alibi and a big chip on his shoulder. Bill Deans can’t be ruled out. He could have killed her out of jealousy. Terry Callaghan doesn’t seem likely because of his nature but he’s admitted to having sex with her. And the same goes for Douglas Madsen.” Drumm sighed. “It’s a hell of a list, isn’t it?”
“We have to include the Bitchin’ Crew also,” said Karl. “And Lynnette Cranston.” He looked sideways at Lori Singh as he said this.
Drumm leaned back in his chair and put his fingertips together. “Right, here’s what we know of our victim’s movements last Friday. She taught all day at school, a perfectly normal day in seventh grade. And then we think she drove home, made herself some dinner and got dressed to go out. And then?” Plenty of witnesses had seen Sarah Noonan leave the school building about 3:45 p.m., get into her car and drive away. But after that her movements were just a guess.
“And then she let someone into her apartment,” said Karl. “Who killed her. We think.”
“And that’s the trouble, isn’t it?” said Lori. “It’s all what we think, not what we know. We need a break in this case, because we are getting nowhere.”
The ball hit the girl right in the face and she went down on the gym floor, crying. The teacher blew his whistle and the game of dodgeball came to a stop. The girls’ friends rushed to console her while the teacher, whom Drumm recognized as Bruce Stevens, strolled over much more calmly, to see how serious the situation was. Satisfying himself that there was no crisis, Stevens helped the girl to a bench, then blew his whistle again and the game continued. They were using a nerf soccer ball, and Drumm knew, as clearly Mr. Stevens did too, that it was pretty much impossible to cause any serious damage with that kind of ball.
An Indecent Death Page 9