by Cindy Davis
So, where did that leave things? No place at all.
What if, that janitor didn’t come to the office intending to clean it—the place sure didn’t look like it was cleaned very often. Maybe he’d come to destroy clues. Which made Kiana’s decision easy: she would go to school and tell what happened last night. Who to tell? The police maybe. Although Mr. Reynolds said they should come to him. Then there was Mrs. Deacon, famous for solving crimes… If not for the fiasco of last night, and the resulting embarrassment, she’d be the perfect one to speak to.
Kiana had just stepped off her front walk when Evan’s motorcycle putted around the corner. She smiled, knowing he deliberately appeared each morning to drive her to school. She unclipped the helmet from the rear of the seat, settled her backpack firmly on the seat rest, then climbed up behind him.
Usually some sort of music blared in the helmet headphones. The genre differed every day, from classical to rap, but it was always there, and loud. Today, no music. And Evan didn’t shout his usual greeting. Something was wrong. Had another teacher died? Kiana never watched the news, but if something like that had happened, surely her mother would’ve said something. When Gwen died, she begged Kiana to remain home from school. Another death would surely have resulted in her being physically forced to stay home.
Could his mood be mimicking her fear of facing Mrs. Deacon? She was about to ask when he spoke for the first time. Kiana had to struggle to hear the words through the helmet microphone.
“We need to talk. There’s something I need to tell you.”
He flicked on the turn signal and leaned left into the park, where the town held gatherings and kids came to play on the enormous slides and swings. He got off the bike, removed his helmet and placed it on the seat. He waited for her to climb off, set the kickstand then walked away. The stuff on his mind must be important. He forgot to take the key from the ignition. And he forgot to wait for her. He always waited.
Kiana dropped the keychain in her pocket, then hung the helmet on the backrest and followed. By now, Evan sat sideways on a red plastic rocking horse. Kiana selected a yellow dinosaur nearby and sat sideways too, her rear end squished into the small, curved area.
“You okay?” Evan asked.
She nodded.
“You’re thinking Mr. Chalmers killed Ms. Forest.”
Kiana shrugged. Not an I-don’t-care gesture, it was one that said he was right.
“I was thinking the same thing. All the way to the coffeeshop. That’s where I went for the last hour. But you know, Kee, I don’t think he did it. He really cared about her.”
She gave a weary nod.
“I think we have to tell the police about the lighter fluid.” When she didn’t respond he added, “Or at least tell Mrs. Deacon.” Seeing Kiana’s hesitation he added, “Something I just thought of, maybe somebody’s storing it there—to use at a later time.”
Kiana rocked on the too-small dinosaur. Nobody else visited the park but a lot of people hurried along the sidewalk. Traffic would soon grow so heavy it would bog down at the intersection. No doubt they would be late for school.
“I told my mother we were investigating.”
“You sure that was a good idea?”
“Yes. She asked that we let her know where we’ll be from now on. Best somebody knows where to find us if something goes wrong.”
Evan watched the traffic too, but his mind was obviously elsewhere. When he finally spoke, his words were hard to understand since he pretty much faced the other way. “About a month ago, I saw something.” When Kiana didn’t react, Evan seemed disappointed. But he went on, “What I saw… It might have something to do with Ms. Forest’s murder.”
Now he had her full attention. Though she said nothing. Evan didn’t need the platitudes. If he had something to say, he would, even if she asked him not to. To hear better when he did speak, she swung a bit more in his direction on the plastic dinosaur.
“I went to the auditorium. I was early to meet the band to work on the music score. Nobody else was there. I mean the guys; none of the guys were there. Ms. Forest was though. I heard her in her office. She was yelling.”
Kiana couldn’t keep her brows from lifting at this news. Ms. Forest was one of the calmest, most under control people she knew. Nothing, not even a battle between two bullies, brought a reaction.
“At first I only heard her voice,” Evan went on. “I listened. I couldn’t help myself from being worried—because of the shouting. I could only understand a few words now and then. Things like: ‘do that to you’ and ‘think like that’. At first I couldn’t hear the other person answer. I imagined them as shocked as me that she was yelling. I pictured them cowering against the wall.”
Kiana smiled. That was exactly how she’d pictured things going too.
“Then Ms. Forest said, ‘why did you have to do this here—at school?’” Evan gave a nervous laugh. “I guess I kept going closer because all at once I realized I was standing near the office door.” He gave a rueful smile. “That explained how I could suddenly hear whole sentences.”
“I would’ve peeked through the keyhole to see who was in there.”
Evan grinned. “I tried. The door doesn’t have one. She had to be talking to an adult—I figured it was a teacher because those aren’t the kind of things you say to a student. It had to be a teacher, right? Few other adults would be in school right then.”
“Didn’t you say the final bell had rung?”
“I didn’t say that. I said I was early for meeting the guys. But yes, the final bell rang about twenty minutes before that.”
“Then it’s possible it was somebody from the outside. It’s not like the school is in lockdown. Anyone could walk in the door near the gym without being seen. You don’t have to go past the office.”
He said, “I don’t think—” but Kiana kept talking. “You are right though. Odds are, it was a teacher.” She leaned forward on the dinosaur. This was exhilarating and frightening all at the same time. “What did you do?”
“I—” now he actually blushed, “ducked into that closet near the office. I had to see who was fighting with Ms. Forest. I no sooner pulled the closet door shut—well, almost shut—when something smashed against the wall. Sounded like glass and it shook the closet wall.”
“Someone threw something.”
“Probably that paperweight—you know, the one with the Rocky Mountain snow scene in it—from her desk.”
Kiana nodded. She’d wondered where that paperweight had gone. Just a week ago, she asked Gwen about it. Gwen said she took it home.
“Then what happened?”
“That’s when the other person finally spoke, but the voice was low I couldn’t understand what they were saying.”
“Could you tell the person’s sex?”
The word sex seemed to throw him a minute and he faltered. Kiana held in a smile.
“I had the idea the person was trying to calm her down,” Evan said. “But she wasn’t about to let it go. She said, ‘This is the worst thing anyone’s ever done to me.’ The other person seemed again like they tried to talk. Their words got cut off by something else smashing against the wall.”
Kiana was shocked. This was so not like Gwen she had to ask, “Are you sure it was Ms. Forest you heard?”
Evan gave a dismal nod. This had to be hard for him. He held the teacher in such high esteem he had to have battled with this information for weeks.
“Why didn’t you tell me all this sooner?” As soon as the words left her mouth she knew the answer. She wouldn’t believe such behavior came from her beloved Ms. Forest. “Never mind. Finish the story.”
“Well, all at once the office door opened. I had left the closet door open a couple of inches so I could hear. I tried shutting it but first I couldn’t get hold of the doorknob and it jiggled. I thought—”
“Evan! Who came out of the office?”
“Ms. Forest. I was so surprised I almost fell out of the closet. I gue
ss I thought the other person would run out first. Anyway, she was crying. See, that’s part of the reason I couldn’t tell you. Besides you, Ms. Forest is the strongest person I know.”
Kiana disagreed with the first part of his statement—about she, herself, being strong—but Gwen Forest definitely was the strongest person Kiana knew.
“I thought about following. You know, to make sure she was all right. But there wasn’t any blood or anything that said she’d been hurt, so I waited in the closet—to see who else came out. Seemed like forever. My feet started to fall asleep, and my left arm felt like—”
“Evan!”
He sucked in a breath. “Sorry. Anyway, I waited. And waited. Twelve minutes—I checked it on my watch—passed and no one came out of the office. I got scared thinking… Well, I hate to say it but I thought maybe Ms. Forest k-killed the other person. Not that she would. Especially in her own office. I just…” He raked the fingers of his right hand through his hair leaving cowlicks in the spaces between his fingers. “Anyway, the guys had arrived. I could hear them out in the auditorium, setting up. So, I had this bright idea to come out of the closet and pretend I was looking for Ms. Forest, to ask a question, you know? I was just opening the door when the one to the office opened.”
“Kiana! Evan! Hey, you two, what’re you doing?”
The new voice made Evan slide off the rocking horse. Kiana groaned and jerked her head around.
Dalton, one of the guys from Evan’s band, stood three feet away. “You guys’re gonna be late for school,” he said.
Evan pretended to be surprised. “Man, we lost track of time. Come on, Kee, let’s go.” He pulled himself erect, straightened his shirtsleeves and grabbed her hand.
Back at the cars, Dalton asked, “Kiana, would you mind driving Evan’s bike? He can ride with me, there’s something important I have to tell him before we get to school.”
“Can’t it wait till we get there?” Evan asked. “Kee and I were in the middle of a discussion.”
“Ev, this is really important. Almost life or death.”
Kiana doubted it but wordlessly turned and got on the motorcycle.
FIFTEEN
Angie spent the morning helping a class of freshmen write dialogue for a show they would put on in spring. Then she worked with a class of young actors preparing for a performance of A Christmas Carol they’d perform for the Christmas program.
After that she strolled to the teacher’s lounge for lunch. The room was bright and sunny, a nice break from the windowless office at the other end of the building. Four teachers were just leaving. Angie introduced herself then handed them tickets to the Saturday show. Friday night, much of the crowd would consist of parents and relatives, so it would be nice to have the support of a familiar group for the second night’s show.
Left alone, she made a fresh pot of coffee. While it brewed she wandered around the room. It was the first time she’d been in a teacher’s lounge. In school she always wondered what teachers did here. The place wasn’t anything more than a glorified studio apartment with sofas, a television, and a kitchenette, which took up most of the space.
On one wall were labeled cubbyholes. Surprisingly, the lower right box had her name on it. There were two notes inside. The first message was written on a yellow lined sheet of notepaper and folded in half.
Angie,
Cilla and I would love to have you for dinner tonight. Six?
We’re having pasta, that’s all I know. No need to bring anything.
Just yourself. 555-6579 and I’ll give you directions.
Josh
How long had this been here? Why would Josh think she’d have occasion to come to this place when she had a perfectly good office at the other end of the school? She hadn’t been invited here, not even by Randy. Or course, he was so wrapped up in convincing her to investigate he probably forgot.
Should she go? Sure, might be fun; she’d liked Josh’s wife. Trouble was, she’d told Tyson this morning that she’d be there right after rehearsal. Maybe firing Marie could be put off another day. Angie grinned, imagining Tyson’s reaction.
The other note was from Randy. So, he either expected she’d find this place by osmosis or thought he’d told her about it. Didn’t matter. His note said simply: Coffee in my office at noon? Unless you can squeeze it in directly after school…
Did he mean today? Or was this from yesterday? Either way, it was past noon. She could go now; she’d only be a half-hour late. But no. She didn’t want to see Randy. And deal with questions and more questions about her perspective on the case. Best to pretend she hadn’t received the note. She started to place it back in her box.
No. Deceit wasn’t a way to build a relationship. Angie tucked the two notes into her skirt pocket. She sat and finished coffee and the sandwich she’d bought at the deli on the way to school.
Two days till the first of the two performances. Three days and she could go home. To Jarvis, to Tyson, to her theater. Thankfully, by then, one way or another, Diva Marie would be gone. Thoughts of the upcoming firing had cannonballs assaulting her stomach. Don’t think about her right now. Think about the last two rehearsals. Two rehearsals to get out the last of the kinks in the script, to make sure costumes were perfect, to put a final push on ticket sales. When Angie was in school, they often made announcements over the intercom. She found paper and a pen and scribbled a note to give to the secretary in the office when she went to meet Randy. If she went.
Angie checked the wording on the note she wanted the secretary to read over the intercom, then walked out of the lounge and around the corner to deliver it. She was assured the message would be delivered over the next two days, and that it would be posted in the online newsletter.
At quarter past one, Angie walked the length of the school, back to her—and Gwen’s—domain. She moved along the narrow auditorium aisle, her footsteps a whisper on the thin carpet. Not a whole lot of natural light got in here. Mostly it was a fluorescent glow from the corridor outside, but it was enough to see that the whole place looked shabby. Dust on the chair arms, white specks of lint on the floor and a grey sheen to the stage. It was clear the janitor hadn’t cleaned in a while, just as he hadn’t cleaned the green room last night. If he’d come here planning to clean and stumbled upon the kids doing something untoward, once they left, why hadn’t he tended to business? After all, they had a show in two days, that whole place should be gleaming from catwalk to carpet. Angie wondered if she should report it. Yes, she’d mention it to Randy later. If the job wasn’t done by tomorrow, she and the kids would do it. Great idea! She’d gather everyone, from freshmen to senior and put them to work. After all, it was in their interest if they wanted to protect their drama program.
She pictured the janitor stumbling upon Kiana and Evan last night. She imagined him coming through the hallway and into the green room to see the kids huddled over the picture. A supposedly innocent picture. If the kids correctly recalled the conversation they had before the discovery, nothing much had been said about the identity of the people in the photo. So, what raised the janitor’s suspicions? Why confront the kids about something so mundane? If Evan and Kiana had been doing something wrong, if they weren’t supposed to be in the school, why not report them to Randy instead of creating a confrontation?
Suddenly she knew. He had reported things. A complaint, or whatever, that the kids had been in an area without adult supervision. The result was her invitation to coffee.
The school bell blared through the building. She backed up to the stage and heaved herself on the apron to wait for the kids. One more forty-five minute period—a beginners acting class—and the day would be over. Her notes said the class consisted of all ages and that Gwen had most recently been teaching them to project. Should be fun. Through the pair of double doors at either side of the room, fluorescent lighting reflected heads passing, mostly boys, moving toward the gym.
She took a moment to call the number on Josh’s note, and tell Cil
la that yes, she would definitely love to come to dinner. Then she left a message for Tyson that her trip would be delayed. Her thoughts wandered to Jarvis and Irish Red. What were they up to? Jarvis didn’t have to work today, so they’d probably gone fishing. Or maybe he mowed the lawn while Red stood at the screen door whining to go outside with him.
Was there time to call Jarvis? No, kids would be here—
No sooner had the thought entered her brain when the kids gushed through the doors and tumbled down the aisles like floodwater. The chatter of conversation—Angie heard talk of cool boyfriends and extra homework, text messages, and unfair parents—ceased when they spotted her sitting on the stage. She motioned for them to come forward. Fifteen teens, mostly girls, dropped backpacks, handbags and belongings on the front row seats, then stood in the elongated area that would normally be the orchestra pit, and waited. Amid a flutter of inexplicable nerves, Angie introduced herself. As with each other class, she gave a short eulogy for their teacher. After a moment of silence, class proceeded. A couple of the kids demonstrated a natural projection—just like Diva Marie, whom Angie definitely didn’t want to think about.
When the final bell rang and the kids were collecting their belongings, Angie reminded them about the upcoming performances over the weekend and expressed a request that they “support your fellow classmates” because in a year or so, they’d be the ones up here. “The more support this program receives now, the better the chance of it being around for many years in the future.”
After they left, the final swarm of kids arrived—for the next to last dress rehearsal. Angie waited for them and as they gathered in the orchestra pit. Together they walked to the green room, and stopped in their tracks.
The place was a shambles. The supply closet had been completely emptied. The box of scripts looked like it’d been tossed in the air—white paper covered every inch of floor space. The same mess had occurred in the costume room; the clothes racks were empty. Every bit of clothing and shoes had been dumped on the floor.