Frank Bennett Adirondack Mountain Mystery Box Set

by S. W. Hubbard

  Oliver shrugged at the news. "No great loss. There’s no place to go around here, anyway.”

  “Getting a little cabin fever over at the academy?” Frank asked they waited for the tow truck.

  “Yeah. I went over to the Trail’s End tonight to listen to the band, but—”

  "But what?”

  "Nothing.”

  “They were no good, huh?”

  “Terrible.” Oliver shuddered. “I shouldn't be so critical. Other people seemed to be enjoying them.”

  “I understand. My wife could never sit through a bad performance, either.”

  “You’ve mentioned your wife before. She's a musician? I’d love to meet her.”

  “Was. She died before I came to Trout Run.”

  Oliver looked down and fiddled with the zipper of his coat. “Oh, I'm sorry. I didn’t realize ...”

  “Actually, she would have loved meeting you. She would’ve been so impressed that you’re going off to study at Curtis. She never had an opportunity like that—she married me instead.”

  Oliver studied him with serious brown eyes. “If you were happy together, then I don’t think she missed her opportunity,” he said softly.

  “Here comes Al!” Frank said, with more enthusiasm than was normally warranted by the arrival of the tow truck.

  Al checked the engine and confirmed Frank’s diagnosis. He handed Oliver a clipboard. “Fill out this form so I know how to get ahold of you.”

  Frank watched as Oliver filled in the blanks with meticulous printing. “You could never be a doctor,” he joked. "Not with handwriting that neat.”

  Oliver smiled. “I never considered any career other than music. My mother encouraged me from the time I was in kindergarten. I’m an only child.”

  “Looks like her efforts paid off,” Frank said as Al pulled away with the little Toyota hitched to his truck. “C'mon, I’ll take you back to the academy.”

  They drove in silence for a while until Oliver spoke. "Do you ever feel like there’s a big party going on and you’re watching it from the other side of a locked glass door?”

  Frank wanted to answer, “Every day,” but instead he said, “What makes you ask that?”

  Oliver shifted in his seat and looked out the window at the pitch-black forest rolling by. “I’m afraid I don’t fit in too well at the academy. The other teachers and the Pathfinders are so gung-ho about the mission of the school. We have these meetings where Dr. Payne leads us in discussing the precepts of the academy, and everyone else gets all charged up. I guess it's like a football coach psyching up his team.” Oliver laughed. “Not that I’d know anything about that. Hell, I only signed up to be a music teacher.”

  “You didn’t know what kind of school this was when you took the job?” Frank asked.

  “I knew in a theoretical sense. I guess I didn’t understand what that would mean day in, day out—that I would be expected to take part in all this discipline and regimentation. I’m not much of a tough guy.”

  “So why did Payne hire you?”

  “He’s a huge music fan. He attended a concert I gave and came up to me afterwards to talk. He was so enthusiastic about my playing, so complimentary. Then he offered me this well-paying job, the answer to all my money problems. It dropped in my lap—how could I say no?” Oliver sighed. “I guess I should have been a little more cautious. Now I’m stuck. I signed a contract, and I don’t think Dr. Payne would let me out of it without a fight.”

  Frank could tell from the tone of Oliver’s voice that the kid wouldn’t dream of crossing swords with MacArthur Payne. Who could blame him? He didn’t relish it himself. “He is pretty demanding."

  “Whenever I’m alone with Mac, just he and I and we’re talking about music, I like him fine. But when he’s in his official 'headmaster' role, he’s like a different person.”

  “What is it that bothers you about him?”

  Oliver thought for a moment before answering. “I guess it’s the way he’s always so sure he’s right”

  Words of agreement were on the tip of Frank’s tongue, but he changed them to a noncommittal “hmm.” “I understand Payne never makes exceptions to his rules. Paul Petrucci was telling me he wanted to get Heather LeBron involved in his class play, but Payne said she hadn’t earned enough points.”

  “Yes, Paul and I have talked about Heather. Apparently she likes to sing, too, but she hasn’t earned the points to take my classes, either.”

  “Are the other teachers, uh, nervous, after what happened to Jake?” Frank asked as he turned the car onto High Meadow Road.

  “Well, the ones who lead the hikes and the rock climbing and stuff are a little anxious because that bear still hasn’t been caught. Mac has suspended overnight camping, but the other outdoor activities are still on. He says they’re too important to the program to cancel.”

  “You’re never involved in the wilderness outings?"

  “No way!” Oliver held his hands out in front of him. “I can’t risk injuring my hands. Mac accepts that.”

  "So who does them?”

  “Randy Ohlandt, Paul Petrucci, and Steve Vreeland.”

  “Steve must really be nervous, having such a close call.”

  “No, just the opposite. At our first meeting after Jake’s death, Steve volunteered to lead the next hike. He’d do anything for Mac. Steve’s one of his”—Oliver made quotation marks in the air—“success stories.”

  Frank pulled up at the gates of the North Country Academy. The guard emerged, looking very puzzled to see the patrol car there. Oliver leaned out the window to tell him about his car troubles, and the guard waved them on. Frank followed the road to the dormitory that Oliver pointed out as his residence.

  He put the car in park and turned to face his passenger. “Tell me, Oliver—do these kids ever scare you?”

  Oliver undid his seat belt and looked Frank in the eye. “Back when I was in high school, it was the jocks who scared me. I crossed the street when I saw the football players coming. These kinds of kids—the stoners, the freaks—they never bothered me. They just seemed sort of sad and lost. They still do.”

  Chapter 14

  “Frank! How did this happen?” Reid Burlingame bustled into Frank’s office minutes after his own arrival and dropped a newspaper onto his desk.

  GRUESOME DEATH CASTS SUSPICION ON TACTICS OF TOUGH-LOVE ACADEMY

  Special to the New York Beat

  By Dawn Klotz

  (Trout Run, NY—November 11) Citizens of this bucolic Adirondack hamlet were shocked five days ago when a teacher leading a school camping trip was mauled by a black bear. Now, shock has turned to terror as the teacher, Jake Reiger, has died from his wounds, while local police are attempting to cover up the possibility that the attack may have been instigated by students at a local boarding school, the North Country Academy.

  According to Trout Run Police Chief Frank Bennett, “There is no outstanding police investigation into the death.” But local outdoorsmen and hunters wonder why not.

  “The word is out that Jake Regier’s sleeping bag was soaked in bacon grease. Everyone knows bacon grease is a lure for bears,” said William Nestor, who was hunting yesterday near Corkscrew Mountain. “It looks to me like someone set the guy up."

  Frank paused in his reading. “Who the hell is William Nestor?”

  Reid and Earl both shrugged. “Keep reading,” Reid directed. “It gets worse.”

  Chief Bennett did confirm that grease was found on the sleeping bag and that North Country Academy students were the only people who would have had access to it.

  Bennett characterized as “ridiculous” the community’s concerns that the attack on Reiger could be the portent of more violence to come.

  The article went on, with more description of the rigorous treatment students at the academy received. The next paragraph began with a quote.

  “Lots of people been getting jobs over there. The pay’s real good," said Augie Enright, a lifelong resident of Trout Ru
n. “As long as they keep those kids locked up away from us, we like the school fine.”

  Chief Bennett denied that the town leaders were pressuring him to look the other way in matters concerning the North Country Academy. “There is no undue influence,” he said.

  Frank stopped reading when he was certain his name wasn’t mentioned again.

  “This is bullshit! I never said any of this!” Frank protested.

  “Well, then, where did she get those quotes if she didn’t talk to you?” Reid asked.

  “I did talk to her, but this is not what I said.” Was it? Frank rubbed his temples, trying to recreate that crazy interview in his mind.

  “But what about this theory that the sleeping bag was sabotaged? Is that true?’ Reid asked.

  Frank couldn’t meet Reid’s eyes. “I don’t know,” he said, and then told Reid about the state police report and Rusty’s concerns.

  "Why didn’t you inform me of this right away?” Reid demanded. “Don’t you think I have a right to know, as chairman of the town council? Really, Frank, I’m quite disappointed in you.”

  “I wanted to look into it myself before I got everyone all worked up.”

  “Well, they’re certainly worked up now. This looks bad, Frank. The article makes it seem like we’re trying to shield the North Country Academy at the expense of our citizens’ safety. At the same time it makes the academy look bad, even though the students are blameless. They are blameless, aren’t they? Frank?”

  Frank jerked to attention. “Yes. Yes, of course.” But as his mouth uttered platitudes of reassurance for Reid, his mind followed a different track, determined to find out more about Heather LeBron and Jake Reiger.

  Frank finally succeeded in shuffling Reid out the door and returned to his desk to call the hospital. After some wrangling with the nurse in charge of the emergency room, Frank succeeded in getting Heather LeBron’s mother’s phone number. When he dialed, the phone rang endlessly. He was about to hang up when a hoarse voice muttered, “Hullo?”

  “Mrs. LeBron?”

  “Not anymore, thank God. Who’s this?”

  Of course, the parents were divorced so the mother’s name would be different. “This is Police Chief Frank Bennett in Trout Run, New York. Are you Heather LeBron's mother?”

  “Oh, Christ! What’s she done now? Dr. Payne assured me she couldn’t get out of that place.”

  Obviously, Heather’s mother was no stranger to phone calls from the police. "Heather’s not in any trouble, ma’am. I wanted to be sure you were aware that she was lost on a hike two days ago and had to be hospitalized briefly for hypothermia.”

  “Oh, yeah. I got a message about her being treated in the emergency room. It sounded like something minor.”

  So you didn’t even bother to call back and find out? No one would accuse Heather’s mother of being overprotective, that’s for sure.

  “What do you mean she got lost on a hike?” the woman continued. “She tried to run away again, didn't she?”

  Had she already spoken to Payne, or had she leapt to that conclusion independently? “Have you heard from Dr. Payne or Heather since she’s been at the academy, ma’am?”

  “Payne e-mails me once a week with a progress report. He says Heather’s adapting slowly to the program. She not allowed to talk to me until she reaches Level Two.” “And you’re all right with that?”

  “It’s what I expected. The program was fully explained to me when I signed the contract. The kids all plead to come home by claiming they’re being abused. It’s easier on everyone if they can’t talk to their parents. Frankly, I’m glad that’s the policy. It’s been quite peaceful around here without Heather’s daily drama.”

  “Did you know about the bear attack on the camping trip Heather was on?”

  “Bear attack?” For the first time in their conversation, Frank detected a note of concern. “Heather was attacked by a wild animal?”

  "Not Heather. The teacher leading the trip. He was killed, in fact.”

  “Come to think of it, I think Payne mentioned some unfortunate accident in last week’s report. What’s that got to do with Heather?”

  “She was there when it happened. I think she was quite traumatized by what she saw.”

  “Traumatized? Heather? Well, that would be a first! Usually she’s the one dishing out the trauma. Like the time she nearly pushed her little brother out a second-floor window. And the time she drank a pint of rum. And the time when she loaded all the guests at her fourteenth birthday party into her stepfather’s Lexus and crashed into a tree.”

  Frank felt that the condition of the Lexus, or maybe even the tree, was the family’s primary worry. But probably he was being too judgmental. Living with a kid like Heather couldn’t be easy. "I understand she can be difficult, ma’am. It’s just that I’m worried about her, and I wanted to be sure you were fully aware of everything that’s happened to Heather since she’s been at the North Country Academy.”

  “Fully aware? Oh, I’m fully aware all right. I'm fully aware that this is the last stop for Heather. I can’t have her back here terrorizing our family. There are no other schools that will enroll her. Payne says he can straighten her out.” She took a long breath. “It has to work at the North Country Academy. It just has to work.”

  FRANK STARED AT THE phone after he hung up with Heather’s mother, thinking back on his daughter’s teenage years. Caroline had given them plenty of anxious days and nights—hitchhiking, using a fake ID to get into raunchy clubs on the Boulevard in Kansas City, climbing out her bedroom window when she’d been grounded. All his law enforcement horror stories about murdered hitchhikers and drugged and raped girls fell on deaf ears. Caroline at fifteen had been determined to experience all the excitement that lay beyond the shelter of their placid suburban neighborhood.

  Any of her stunts could’ve gotten her killed, of course, and that’s what had kept him and Estelle up pacing the floor whenever Caroline was out. But he’d never felt she was totally out of control. She must have sampled booze and drugs, but he was so attuned to the symptoms of regular use that he knew she’d never had a problem with the stuff. All Caroline’s antics were pulled off while staying a straight-A student, running track, and playing cello in the school orchestra.

  What would they have done if she’d been a danger to other people, like Heather, or an addict and thief like Steve Vreeland? Would they have sent her away as a last resort, a desperate gamble? He couldn’t imagine it, if for no other reason than it would seem like admitting utter failure as a parent.

  But if your child had pushed you to the limit, if he was destroying the rest of your family, would a school like the North Country Academy seem like a logical choice? Or maybe these parents were simply unwilling to deal with the mess of their children’s lives any longer and jumped at the opportunity to dump them in the lap of someone like MacArthur Payne.

  Impulsively, he reached for the phone and dialed Caroline’s number.

  “Hi, Daddy! What's up?”

  “I’m just sitting here thinking about the time you told us you were spending the night at Jennie Roth’s and instead you hitched to St. Louis for a rock concert.”

  Caroline laughed. “U2—an awesome performance! What put that in your head?"

  Frank told her about the North Country Academy and his anxiety over Heather LeBron.

  “Wow, that puts my day in perspective. I’m sitting here worrying about Ty and Jeremy waving sticks on the playground. You don't think that’s an early sign of delinquency, do you?”

  “No, I think it’s a sign of being three-year-old boys. How’s Eric?” Frank continued in the most casual tone he could muster. His son-in-law had briefly moved out of the house, but supposedly their marriage was now on the mend.

  “He’s fine. We both really like this new therapist we’re seeing. We go once a week together, then once a week alone to work on issues we each brought to the marriage.”

  What issues? he longed to ask. Issues creat
ed by your inept parents and your traumatic childhood? Or issues of being a person with flaws and desires and needs that your husband never noticed over the long candlelight dinners of your courtship?

  “But you’re working things out?” he prodded gently, hopefully.

  “Yes, Daddy. Don’t worry.”

  Don’t worry—as if that could ever be possible, as long as they both walked this earth. Worry began at the moment of conception and it seemed to him it never let up, only changed form. To stop worrying about his daughter would be to stop loving her. Maybe that’s what had baffled him about Heather’s mother. It seemed that Heather had pushed the woman to the absolute limit of worry, and she had to shift the burden to MacArthur Payne or be crushed by it. It seemed cold at first glance, but it didn’t necessarily mean she didn’t love her daughter.

  “BENNETT!” HIS OWN NAME thundered through the telephone receiver and ricocheted around his head. Frank didn’t have to ask who was calling. MacArthur Payne had obviously read the New York Beat.

  “I need to talk to you about this newspaper article. There are some things going on here that you clearly don’t understand.”

  First Reid, now Payne. Frank was angrier at himself than at either of them, but he couldn’t find a way to keep the frost out of his voice. “What might that be?”

  “I’m not going to discuss it on the phone. Do you want me to come there, or will you come out here?”

  Frank took a deep breath; this was his penance. “I’ll be right over.”

  The rapport of their last visit—whether it had been forced or sincere—was banished today. Frank sat in the low-slung visitor’s chair, designed for intimidation, while MacArthur Payne loomed over him, lecturing.

  “You have been sadly misled by a number of people here, Bennett.”

  “Oh?” was the best that Frank could manage as a sarcasm-free response.

  "First, this notion that academy students sabotaged Jake Reiger’s sleeping bag is ludicrous. I told you that the camping gear is kept under lock and key and that the students would have no access to the kitchen or any food supplies.”