He stood outside for a few moments until the sight and then the sound of her car on the cinders faded away. He forced himself to go back into the house. He wasn’t sure why. Perhaps seeing more closely how Coach Zappala lived would provide some clue as to how he died. He didn’t have to look hard to find something.
***
Wandering into the coach’s study, he found himself surrounded by trophies, medals, certificates, and photos on the walls. In one of the photos, a beaming coach was vigorously shaking hands with Bill Belichick of the New England Patriots. Apparently, that was part of the official celebration of Madison’s third state title under Zappala. Bishop thought it strange that there were absolutely no family photos anywhere. He wondered what had turned him against his sister and her family. Why would he refuse to help them save their bakery if he had the money to do it? He had only left the fifty thousand so that would have a harder time contesting the will. Perhaps Zappala was like Pip from Great Expectations. Pip’s older sister, Mrs. Joe, had been forced to raise him, and she did so “by hand.” Could Al have been mistreated as a youth? Pip, however, with the help of his benefactor, ultimately became a gentleman. What about Al? He became his own benefactor, but all of his money didn’t make him a gentleman. Far from it.
Bishop sat at the coach’s desk. As he pushed some newspapers around, he noticed that the coach kept a large calendar on his desk as a type of blotter. He noticed that the score of the Central game had been filled in in red pen in the appropriate space on the calendar. “W, 28-3.” There was nothing marked in the spaces for that Saturday or Sunday. Although that Sunday date would certainly be etched on his tombstone, it had just looked like any other date to coach. There was something written in black pen in the space for Monday: “Delaney 7.” So he had planned on attending that meeting after all. It wasn’t like him to have been afraid of anything. Underneath that was another notation: “BK 25,000.” He took a slip of paper from his pocket and copied it down. Whatever it meant, someone had made sure that Zappala never saw Monday.
***
Not long after he had returned to his own home, Ron Jennings called. “Hi, Mike. You busy?”
“Not really. What’s going on?”
“You missed a good game last night. We trounced Roosevelt. Chris Delaney broke the school record for touchdowns in a career by scoring four more. It was hard to tell who was more excited, Chris, his father, or Russ Chandler.”
“There was quite a write-up in this morning’s paper. Sister Ann must be pleased that we’re getting some positive coverage in the press to offset all of the rumors surrounding the Zappala’s murder.”
Ron agreed, noting that the principal had not been herself lately. It was his observation that Sister was quite troubled when it was revealed that the cyanide was missing from the lab.
“Do you think that explains her poor judgment in that mailbox fiasco?” asked Bishop. “Had she sought your opinion on that one?” he added, teasing his good friend.
“No way!” said Ron without any hesitation. “You know very well that I am excluded from most of the decisions at that school.” Indeed, Bishop did know that, although he did not understand it. Sister Ann could have prevented many awkward and embarrassing moments by simply running an idea by Ron, a guy who had a reasonable amount of common sense, and whose advice would be invaluable. Instead, she chose to listen to Sister Pat whose understanding of complex issues was minimal and whose interpersonal skills were non-existent.
Ron had heard that Bishop had convinced Sister Ann to remove the lock on the mailboxes, and he expressed his gratitude. He also told Bishop a little bit about his date with Stephanie. They had gone out for a pizza after the game, and when he drove her home, she invited him up to her apartment. He hadn’t stayed there very long, but he did ask her if he could give her a ride to the Halloween Dance, and she had accepted. Ron noticed that Stephanie’s landlady, Miss Avery, was peering out from the curtained window of her front room, both when he had arrived and when he left.
Talk of the dance prompted Ron to ask, “Are you coming to the dance tonight?”
“Sure. I was planning on stopping by for a while anyway. It’s always a hoot to see the kids in costume.”
“Are you coming as Mark Twain again?” Ron hopefully.
“I suppose so. The kids seem to enjoy it.”
“We all do.” He noted that activity at the dances was often difficult to monitor, so having a seasoned veteran there would be a help. “Luckily, I don’t have to wear a costume. Do you think that Steph will be in costume?” He was running through some possibilities as he asked the question.
“She might. Some of the chaperones do.” He was running through some possibilities as well, but as it turned out, the reality topped anything that he had imagined.
“Well, so far so good with Steph. I’m happy for you, Ron. She seems like a wonderful person.”
“Don’t I know it!” Ron’s happiness was obvious. “And I have you to thank for the jumpstart.” Bishop inwardly hoped that Ron would continue to feel the same way as time passed.
***
After having a quick lunch of tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich, he called Lieutenant Hodge. “I hope that you don’t mind me calling on a Saturday.”
“Not at all, Mike. What’s on your mind?”
“It came to my attention yesterday that Chris Delaney had a verbal altercation with his coach during that Central game, and that was the reason that Delaney was benched for the second half.”
“What are you suggesting?” asked the Lieutenant, forcing Bishop to be more precise.
“Apparently, that verbal altercation included a threat to kill the coach. Now, understand that I have this information indirectly, but I think that the source is credible.”
“And that young man that I talked with, Aaron, claimed that he heard Delaney’s father threaten to kill Zappala.”
“Yes, that’s right. I know that it sounds rather bizarre, but both the father and the son appear to have threatened to kill a man who ended up dead two days later.”
“I looked into that business regarding the father.”
“What did you find?”
“Well, it seems that Dave Delaney had done the same thing to one of his son’s coaches at a summer camp a few years ago. Happened in Jersey somewhere. That coach didn’t have a sense of humor about it and filed a complaint. A restraining order was issued and that was that.”
Bishop said nothing. He felt that this made Mr. Delaney’s recent threat more ominous. The man was clearly obsessed with his son’s athletic career. Could he have been driven to murder over Chris’s benching? Wouldn’t that previous incident make him even more likely to act on his anger? Or was he thinking that way because he didn’t want to believe that Chris might be involved?
“One more thought, Lieutenant, and I’ll let you go.”
“Okay. What is it?”
Bishop had been bothered by the torment that Sister Pascala was putting herself through. “I was thinking that our assumption that the cyanide came from the lab at Trinity might be mistaken.”
“Why do you think that?” asked Hodge, intrigued by the idea.
“Well, I did a little Internet search the other night, and I found that cyanide and all types of other poisons are readily available for purchase online. All you need is a credit card, and you could have whatever you wanted delivered right to your door within a few days.”
“Does that mean that you don’t believe the perpetrator was connected to the school?”
“Not exactly. It means that anyone from the outside could have acquired that poison, but it doesn’t eliminate anyone within the school community either.” Bishop ran through the list of suspects in his mind. He put Rocco at the top of his list. He had a strong motive, and he had admitted to being in town when the murder took place. Also on the list were Chris Delaney and his father, David. It was hard to believe that a student could do such a thing, but anger and fear were powerful emotions. The fa
ct that the father had previously threatened another coach certainly didn’t work in his favor. Then there was Russ Chandler who threw Doug Sanders under the bus to get the position of head coach. And Doug had been fired by Zappala, at least according to Russ. Revenge was also a powerful motivator. Finally, although he hadn’t said anything to the Lieutenant, he thought of Sister Ann and Sister Pat. Could they have been so desperate for funds that they might have done it, knowing that, as members of a religious order, they were unlikely to be considered suspects?
Hodge interrupted his reverie. “By the way, I talked with Russ. He claims that he went to a movie with his girlfriend the night of the murder, and they spent the night at her place. That all seems to check out unless she’s lying about his staying over. There are witnesses that saw them at the theater. On another front, I haven’t been able to talk with Doug.”
“Really? Why not?”
“He moved out of his apartment, and no one seems to know where he went.”
“Didn’t he leave a forwarding address with the post office?” As soon as he asked that question, he realized that it might sound as if he were questioning Hodge’s investigative abilities, so he apologized. Hodge assured him that he had not taken offense. He knew how invested Bishop was in solving this case.
When he looked at the time, he realized that he needed to get ready for the dance. As he enjoyed the hot water of his shower, he could not help but think whether Doug simply moved away to pursue another opportunity, or whether he was running away from something. His conversation with Hodge had brought many vexing questions back into focus. As the water soothed his body, one answer popped into his head. He had been reading an essay, and in the space for name, the student had simply written, “TJ.” His name was Thomas Jefferson Donnelly. Everyone including Bishop called him TJ. The shower magic had worked again. He had, at least, a good idea that the BK in Zappala’s calendar notation, “BK 25,000,” stood for Bonnie King. That led to another question: Could 25,000 refer to dollars? Was the coach going to give her twenty-five thousand dollars? Chris had told Zappala that Bonnie might be pregnant, and Zappala had told him that money would take care of it. Could the money be for an abortion? Could it be to buy her silence as to the identity of the father? These questions swirled around in his head as the soapy water swirled down the drain.
Chapter 16
The Halloween dance was held from 8:00 to 12:00 p.m. in the school’s gymnasium. Ron and several chaperones were there an hour early to supervise all of the preparations. It was their job to check that students were not drunk when they arrived and that they were not bringing alcohol into the dance. For the most part, Trinity kids were very cooperative with school policy. What they might do after the dance was another matter.
Bishop arrived dressed as Mark Twain. He was wearing a light tan suit that he had borrowed from a friend. His costume included a wig, an unlit cigar, and a walking stick. He didn’t need a fake mustache as his own full, gray mustache served the purpose nicely. As the students began arriving, he heard a few “Cool costume, Mr. Bishop” comments, but mostly, they were too busy reacting to what their friends were wearing. There were squeals of laughter when three football players walked in dressed as Trinity cheerleaders. Cell phone cameras were everywhere capturing images for uploading to the Internet.
Ron had been at the entrance greeting everyone as they came in. He smiled and winked approval of Bishop’s costume, leaned in to quickly whisper, “Check out Stephanie,” and refocused on another group of students just arriving. At first, Bishop didn’t see her. Then he noticed a group of boys who were gathered on the far side of the gym. As he made his way there, he realized that Stephanie was the focus of their attention. “Oh, my God!” he said to himself. Stephanie was dressed as Catwoman. Her black, form-fitting body suit left little to the imagination. She had claws, a mask, and her hair was completely hidden under a black wrap. No wonder that a number of boys had gathered for a closer look. One student verbalized the reaction of many when he shouted, “Awesome!” That wasn’t the word to describe Bishop’s reaction. He was shocked at Stephanie’s attire. He realized that there were things that he did not know about this woman.
“Mr. Twain, how nice to meet you,” Stephanie purred. “I do so enjoy your books.” Framed by her mask, her eyes seemed larger than normal.
He wasn’t sure what to say. There were students everywhere at this point. He hoped that Steph wasn’t going to remain in the Catwoman mode all evening. He decided to send her that message by responding as himself rather than trying a Twain witticism. “How is everything going so far?”
“Purrrfect!” she replied.
Bishop smiled feebly and walked away. He was thinking about the words of Polonius, “The apparel oft proclaims the man,” and wondering how they might apply in this case. The music hit him like the blast from a furnace. He had never appreciated hard rock or heavy metal. Its pulsating rhythms instantly began to give him a headache. If it hadn’t been for the fact that Ron had asked him to help out, he would have made a quick escape. Now that he had seen Stephanie’s costume, he wondered if Ron’s reaction had been similar to his own. What could she have been thinking? She obviously wasn’t wearing a bra, and every movement she made accentuated that fact. At least it was dark on the dance floor except for the swirling strobe lights that occasionally illuminated the glitter on her dark figure.
Walking over to the refreshment table turned out to be a mistake. He greeted Sister Ann and Sister Pat who were there, exchanging derogatory comments. Sister Ann held a plastic cup of punch in one hand, probably wishing that it contained something a bit stronger. She was grousing, as usual, about the way the kids were dancing. Bishop was tempted to remind her that times had changed since she was a teenager going to a sock hop. Imagining her in that situation brought a smile to his face.
Sister Pat, who had a heaping plateful of munchies, was making one critical comment after another. “Did you see Ellen Frangiamore? Where’s the rest of her costume? How could her parents have let her out of the house looking like that? It’s disgraceful! Ann, you should call that girl’s parents right now and make them take her home.”
Bishop managed to drift away from that table before the desire to confront Sister Pat for her insensitivity became unbearable. He wondered if they had seen Stephanie yet. He hoped that they had enough sense not to embarrass her in front of the students, but he had his doubts. He wanted to ask Stephanie if she had brought a change of clothes.
He was having a hard time getting that image of Sister Pat as a teenager out of his mind when he heard someone screaming above the music, “Get out of my face or I’ll deck you!”
As he moved in the direction of the confrontation, he caught a glimpse of Ron Jennings sprinting ahead, pushing past students who were blocking his path. He quickly got between the two young men, pushed them apart, and calmly announced, “If anyone gets decked, it’s going to be by me.” All the students in the immediate area who had stopped dancing in anticipation of what might happen next were told that the show was over and to get back to dancing. Ron made note of some of the faces he recognized so that he could talk to them later for their version of what had happened.
Ron pulled one of the students involved away with him, and Bishop grabbed the other and took him in a different direction. It wasn’t until he had gotten back out to the lobby that he realized he was dealing with Chris Delaney.
“Chris, what got into you back there?”
“It’s that nerd, Eric Munro. He was at me and Bonnie right from when we got here, and I wasn’t gonna listen to that all night. I just wanted to make him back off. I wasn’t gonna deck him.”
“What was he saying?”
“Nothin’. It’s over now. Are you going to let me back into the dance? Bonnie’s still in there.”
“Whatever Eric said wasn’t ‘nothin’’ or you wouldn’t have reacted the way you did. You’re not getting back in until I get the whole story. I’m sure that Eric is giving his vers
ion to Mr. Jennings right now.”
“That little weasel is probably lying through his teeth.” The way he practically spit out those words convinced Bishop that this incident was far from over.
“Then why don’t you tell me the truth, and I can try to convince Mr. Jennings not to throw you out of here and call your parents.”
“Leave my parents out of this, please. They’ve been through enough already lately.” Chris explained that as soon as Bonnie and he arrived at the dance (they were dressed as gangsters Bonnie and Clyde), Eric started making comments such as “Where’s the gun, Clyde? Oh, I forgot. You didn’t use a gun. Too messy, huh?” Eric also had kept saying, “Don’t drink the punch. Who knows what Chris did to it.” Chris told him several times that it wasn’t funny and to knock it off, but he kept doing it. When he asked Bonnie what she was going to do when they put Chris in jail, he couldn’t take it any more. That’s when he threatened Eric.
A quick check with Ron revealed that Eric at first tried to lie his way out of trouble. Ron wasn’t buying it. He talked to a couple of kids who were close by when it happened, and they independently verified Chris’s version of events. Ron called the Munros to come and pick up their son. He would receive additional punishment later.
Ron thanked Bishop for his help.
“No problem. You know, the way you went after those guys before somebody got hurt, that was the best move on the dance floor all night!” They both broke out laughing.
***
Bishop snuck out of the dance when it became clear that the fireworks were over for the evening. He made eye contact with Ron and gestured with his cane towards the door. Ron gave him a thumbs-up. As he drove home, he mulled over the implications of the evening’s events. Stephanie’s appearance and behavior were nothing short of bizarre. It would be interesting to get Ron’s take on it. Chris Delaney had surprised him. He wouldn’t have expected Chris to let a kid like Eric get to him. Bishop realized that the events of the last month had taken their toll on Chris. He was not going to make High Honors for the first quarter. He hadn’t received an offer yet from a Division I school. Both he and his father had been questioned regarding the murder of Coach Zappala. He knew that Chris had other reasons to hate the coach including his comments about Bonnie, his offer to pay her off, and his threat to tell the Delaneys that their son was sleeping with his girlfriend. He hadn’t thought that Chris was capable of murder regardless of how persuasively he had spoken and written that Starbuck should have murdered Ahab. Yet, as evidenced tonight, Chris was capable of losing control, and that was a troubling fact.
Outline for Murder Page 11