Outline for Murder

by Anthony J. Pucci

  ***

  The remainder of the day passed quickly. He was at the back of his room picking up a book that a student had left behind when someone knocked at the open door. For an instant, he thought it might be Aaron again, worrying if he would be required to speak to Lieutenant Hodge. Then he thought it might be Steph backing out of their scheduled meeting for coffee. Before he could entertain any more theories, he recognized the voice.

  “Mr. Bishop? Got a minute?” asked Chris Delaney.

  Even though he was hoping to have a chance to talk with Sister Ann before she left for the day, he said, “Sure. Have a seat.” What he wanted to discuss with the principal could wait another day.

  Bishop looked at the young man seated in front of him. He was fortunate in many ways. He was gifted academically and athletically. Combined with his outgoing personality, good looks, and ambitious nature, he was the type that one considered a “can’t miss” for success in college and beyond. Yet, there was something troubling beneath the surface. He didn’t react well to adversity, perhaps because he so rarely had had to deal with it. His parents, especially his father, had high expectations for him, and Chris didn’t handle that pressure very well. His gut told him that Chris would be just fine.

  “What’s on your mind, Chris?”

  “I heard about Eric. It’s all over school that he confessed to using my ID to break into the coach’s house. Why did he do it? Do you think he’ll go to jail?”

  Bishop was not about to tell Chris that he didn’t plan on pressing charges. He also felt that concern about Eric’s future was not what had prompted this visit. “To answer your second question first, Eric and his friends made a serious error in judgment, and I’m sure that there will be consequences. The truth has a way of catching up with people sooner or later.” Bishop felt that this might be the opportunity he had been looking for to validate his belief in Chris’s innocence in the murder of Zappala. “To answer your first question, let me ask you one.”

  “Okay,” Chris said tentatively, not knowing where Bishop was going with this.

  “Do you remember reading The Scarlet Letter?”

  “Sure.”

  “Do you remember what drove Roger Chillingworth to revenge?”

  “Yeah. He wanted to get even with Dimmesdale for having an affair with his wife.”

  “Yes. And what happened to Roger?”

  “He destroyed himself because he went too far with his revenge.”

  Bishop now seized the opportunity. “That’s right. His desire for revenge not only hurt Dimmesdale, but himself as well. I think that Eric still has strong feelings for Bonnie, and he wanted to get revenge on you for taking her away from him.”

  Chris shook his head in protest. “I didn’t take her away from him. She made that decision on her own and besides, she never really did like him that much.”

  “The point is that revenge is a powerful motivator, and someone wanted revenge against the coach so badly that a murder was committed. Do you think that your father could have hated him that much?”

  The question stopped Chris for a moment. The discussion had jumped from literature to real life so quickly. “No, Mr. Bishop. You don’t understand my Dad. He may say stuff and get real mad, but he’s never acted on his anger.”

  “I believe you, Chris. Now, what about you? Are you capable of acting on your anger? You had good reason to hate him when he offered to pay for Bonnie’s silence and threatened to tell your parents.”

  Chris was so shocked and embarrassed that he said nothing at first. Then in a softer voice, he asked, “How did you find out about that?”

  “That’s not important now. What’s important is what you said to him and what you did about it.”

  “I admit I said some things I shouldn’t have, but I never did anything to that man. I swear.”

  “Didn’t you feel that you might have lost your chance at a Division I scholarship when he benched you in what turned out to be the last game he coached?”

  “Mr. Bishop, I don’t really care about scholarships. As a matter of fact, some coaches have called me, ready to make offers. I told them I wasn’t interested.”

  Bishop was puzzled. “Why? Isn’t that what you have worked so hard for during your four years here at Trinity?”

  “I thought that was what I wanted, but it really was what my father wanted. Bonnie is going Claremont Community College next year, and I’ve decided that I’m going to go there too. It’s really a good school, and…”

  Bishop interrupted, “Your father is saying that the coaches don’t want you, and he’s blaming the school.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Again, it doesn’t matter how I know. I just know. The question is which of you is telling the truth?”

  “Listen, I finally got the courage to tell my parents about Bonnie and me. I told them that I wanted to go to Claremont. Needless to say, they weren’t too happy, especially Dad, but they finally accepted my decision. Whatever he’s saying about the coaches is just his way of protecting me, I guess. You know, he has to blame somebody.”

  “Yes, I know what you mean.” Bishop felt that Chris was telling him the truth. He thanked him for stopping by and promised to keep their conversation confidential. As soon as Chris left, Bishop gathered his belongings, shut the lights, and locked the door. He was headed for Sister Ann’s office. The last time that he had been there had been a watershed moment in their personal relationship. He would never forget her reprehensible decision to hire Zappala despite what she knew about him. He knew that she would never forget that he was aware of her hypocrisy. How she would react to the suggestion he was about to make was anyone’s guess.

  ***

  He stopped by Terry’s desk on his way to her office. He wanted to be sure that Terry wasn’t still upset with him for not answering her questions the other day. “Nice flowers,” he said, gesturing to the vase filled with a dozen red roses set against a sprinkling of white baby’s breath. “What’s the occasion?”

  “They are beautiful, aren’t they? A guy I’ve been dating sent them for my birthday.”

  “Oh, my gosh! Is today your birthday?”

  “All day,” she said in response to his dumb question.

  Bishop was a bit embarrassed that he had not remembered her birthday. Normally, he would have gotten her a card and included a gift certificate to a nice restaurant in the envelope. Other thoughts had preoccupied him. At least he hoped that that was the reason. The other possibility was that he was becoming forgetful in his old age. He quickly dismissed that idea since he felt that he was as sharp as ever in the classroom. “Well, I hope that you’re having a wonderful day,” he said, sensing that Terry harbored no anger from the other day.

  “It will be even better when I can walk out that door in about fifteen more minutes,” she said with a laugh.

  In a hushed voice, he leaned over her desk and asked, “Where’s the dynamic duo?”

  Terry smiled knowing exactly what he meant and whispered, “Sister Ann’s in her office, and Sister Pat left a while ago for a dentist’s appointment. She has to have a filling replaced. That’s all she’s been yakking about all day. Apparently, she’s afraid of needles.”

  Bishop easily visualized her playing up her appointment with anyone who would listen in an attempt to garner sympathy. Perhaps if she were a bit more charitable in her dealings with others, she wouldn’t be so universally disliked.

  After wishing Terry well again, he approached Sister Ann’s office, determined to take advantage of Sister Pat’s absence. Sister Ann was looking through the contents of one of her filing cabinet drawers. She had her back to the open door as Bishop knocked.

  “Come in,” she said pleasantly, unaware of who was standing there. As she turned around with a folder in her hands and realized whom she had invited in, the smile disappeared from her face. “Oh, it’s you,” she said disappointedly as she tossed the folder onto her desk.

  Bishop quickly sought to reas
sure her that he was not there to continue their conversation from the other day. They obviously saw things differently, and nothing that either said to the other would change that. He told her that he wanted to talk to her as executor of Zappala’s will. At that point, she asked him to be seated.

  Not bothering with small talk, she sat down, took a sip of water from her cup, and placed her folded hands on the folder. “What about the will?”

  Bishop cleared his throat and began. He knew that he was taking a shot in the dark, but he had to give it a try. “I’ve got an idea of how to stop the Santorini family from contesting the will.”

  Sister Ann reacted as if she had received a shot of adrenaline. “Really? How?”

  Bishop reminded her that if they were to contest the will, she would be accused of exerting undue influence on the coach. It would be an embarrassing situation for her and for the school. There was a reasonable chance that the will would be invalidated, and that would mean that the school would lose the million dollars. A protracted legal battle might ensue. He watched as the possibility of losing all that money began to have the desired effect. “How can we stop them?” she asked.

  Bishop proceeded to outline his plan. He had run his idea by Andy White, Zappala’s attorney, who had said that it could be done if both of the interested parties were in agreement. Sister Ann initially balked at the suggestion, but Bishop had anticipated that. As he explained the advantages for the school, Sister Ann sat quietly. He could tell that she was running through various scenarios in her head. She clearly did not want to be questioned in court regarding the possibility of undue influence that she might have exerted on Zappala. She did not want the public to know what she had known about the coach when she hired him.

  Bishop knew that he was taking a chance. Was he brokering a deal with a murderer? Could Sister Ann, with the encouragement of Sister Pat, have been greedy enough to arrange for Zappala’s untimely demise? She might have even believed that eliminating that despicable man was somehow justified. On the other hand, Bishop still felt that it was more likely that Rocco had killed his uncle. How much of that feeling was based on his dislike for the man? Even if he were guilty, why should his mother, Maria, suffer any more than she already had? Either way, the motive was greed, and Bishop couldn’t escape the feeling that the motive for Zappala’s murder was to be found elsewhere.

  Bishop convinced Sister Ann to consider his proposal. He reminded her that it was only a proposal at this point, and there were no guarantees that it would work even if she agreed to it. Before he left her office, he cautioned, “Please don’t tell anyone about this.” Before she had a chance to object, he looked right at her and said emphatically, “and that includes Sister Pat.”

  Not wanting Bishop to have the last word, Sister Ann waited until he had reached the door. “By the way, we have a meeting set up for tomorrow with Eric Munro’s parents. I’m going to expel him,” she said matter-of-factly.

  “The final decision is yours, of course,” Bishop responded. He had learned the value of diplomacy. “However, all three of those boys did admit to their mistakes. I’d hate to see Eric not be able to finish his senior year with us. I think that there’s a better chance of him learning from his mistakes if he stays here under our guidance than if we just toss him out.”

  “Munro has been a problem in the past, and I want him out of this building.”

  Bishop was tempted to reply that she hadn’t had a problem with allowing Zappala to walk the halls of Holy Trinity. He decided not to put that thought into words, hoping that she might see the inconsistency for herself. “I understand that, Sister. But the more I think about it, the more I can understand him too. He’s really not a bad kid. A number of teachers have told me that. His problems seemed to start when Bonnie King broke up with him. Rejection is a bitter pill. I’m not condoning what he did. All I’m saying is that revenge is a powerful emotion. He made a mistake. I think he’ll be okay.”

  “Well, I’ll think about it,” she replied as she picked up a pen and opened the folder on her desk.

  Chapter 26

  Before he left the parking lot, he called ahead for a pizza. Shortly after he and Grace had moved to the country, they had tried to have a pizza delivered. They called every pizza place in town only to receive the same response. “Pleasant Hill Road? Sorry, we don’t deliver that far out.” That was when they realized that they had moved exactly far enough from civilization.

  He ordered a medium pizza with black olives, sausage, green peppers and extra cheese. Although he had ordered from all of the chain restaurants, he thought that Christy’s Pizza on Jackson Street had the best pies. He liked the idea of supporting local businesses, and he liked the idea of not having to prepare a meal.

  His order was just coming out of the oven as he arrived. The owner, Luigi Catania, was there to greet him. Luigi was about the same age as Bishop and showed no signs of slowing down. What was left of his gray hair was cut short. His smile revealed a full set of even teeth, likely not his own. He wiped his hands on his full-length white apron and greeted one of his long-time customers with a firm handshake. “Hey, Mr. Bishop, how you been?”

  After hearing the latest news about Luigi’s grandchildren, Bishop paid for his order, took the box, and inhaled the pleasing aroma of the freshly baked pizza. Just as he was about to leave, Luigi said, “It’s too bad about Zappala, huh? He come in here a few times. I never like him too much.”

  Bishop was torn between wanting to get home so that he could dig into that pizza and his curiosity about what Luigi might say. His curiosity won. “Why is that?”

  He shook his head at the memory. “He come in with young girl, about half his age. It no look right, you know?”

  “Was it always the same girl?”

  “No. Each time different.”

  He was reluctant to ask the next question, but he had to know. “Were they wearing uniforms?”

  “How you mean?” asked a puzzled Luigi.

  Bishop knew that kids from Holy Trinity patronized Christy’s. He had bumped into students on occasion himself. “Like a school uniform?”

  “Oh, that uniform. No. Not that.”

  Bishop thanked Luigi and got back in his car for the ride home. The pizza was still steaming in the box, but Bishop had suddenly lost his appetite. He was sickened by the thought that Zappala had taken advantage of other young women, or at least had tried to. He remembered the heartbreaking story told by Honesty Jones. Someone had made sure that Zappala would not harm anyone ever again. He was more determined than ever to find out who that someone was.

  ***

  When Bishop got home, he put the pizza box in the fridge. Maybe he would feel hungry later. He knew that he had a few hours of grading ahead of him, but he needed to make one phone call. He went into the sunroom to enjoy the remaining daylight in this season of increasingly short days. With Prokofiev’s “Sonata for Cello and Piano” playing softly in the background and a cup of hot green tea at his side, he punched in the numbers.

  “Hello, Mrs. Santorini. This is Michael Bishop.” He had to talk with Maria. He was convinced that she knew something that might be helpful in solving the mystery surrounding her brother’s death. He had spent hours searching through the cartons of papers that had been taken from Zappala’s home. He was certain that somewhere in all of those documents was a key fact that he had missed.

  When she realized who was calling, the tone of her voice grew harsh.

  “What you want? Why can’t you leave me and my family alone?” She was obviously referring to the police questioning of her son’s activity.

  “I’m trying to help you, but…”

  “Help?” she interrupted. “That’s a joke. It’s too late for help. Petrocelli, he don’t think we can win that case. We’re selling out. When my brother die and left all that money to strangers, he took our last chance with him. That bastard,” she added bitterly.

  Despite what her lawyer was telling her, Bishop knew that they
did have a good chance of challenging that will. If it were determined that Sister Ann had exerted undue influence, both Holy Trinity and the Santorini family could lose everything. The entire estate could go to charity. “Please listen to me, Mrs. Santorini. Don’t sell your bakery. If you decide not to contest the will, I think that I can help you save your business.” Bishop was taking a calculated risk in assuming that Sister Ann would agree to go along with his plan. If she wouldn’t, Mrs. Santorini’s decision wouldn’t matter. However, if Sister Ann did the right thing, then it was essential that Maria cooperate.

  “I can’t explain all the details to you right now, but if you can just trust me, I know that I can help you.”

  “Well, I think about it,” she grudgingly replied. He was getting that response a lot lately. At least she hadn’t said no. From the letters that Zappala had kept, he had picked up bits and pieces of this family’s difficult past. He decided to push for more.

  “Your brother didn’t just die, Mrs. Santorini. He was murdered. Wouldn’t you like to find out who did it and why?”

  “What difference does it make? He’s dead. I’ma sure he deserve it.”

  Bishop was no longer surprised by this woman’s bitterness. From the letters, it was clear that tensions had existed between them for many years. “What makes you so sure that he deserved to die?”

  “What make me sure? I’ll tell you why, meesta.” Her anger had clearly freed her of any reluctance to talk. “My brother was murderer himself.”

  Bishop could barely summon the breath to ask, “What are you talking about?”

  “A long time ago, he got a girl pregnant. He came running to my husband and me. He needed money so that girl could get an abortion and keep her quiet. He told us if anyone found out, he would lose his job. He begged us. He kill his own baby, and we help him do it!” As she told the story, the harshness in her voice was replaced by a soft sobbing.