Shadow of Doubt (A Kali O'Brien legal mystery)

by Jonnie Jacobs

  The school itself hadn’t changed at all, however, at least not from the outside. The big brick building with its wide steps and carefully trimmed oval of lawn looked just as somber as I remembered.

  I got out of the car and locked it, taking care to set the alarm. Interest in cars has always run high among Silver Creek youth, and I figured a shiny silver BMW might just push their infatuation to new heights. I’d worked long and hard for that car, and I wasn’t about to take any chances.

  The school hadn’t changed much on the inside, either. The hallways were still a dingy greenish-brown, a good half the lockers still bent and broken, the linoleum on the floor cracked in exactly the same spots. The smell of the place had an unpleasant familiarity, as well. How many years of sweaty bodies, cleaning solvents, and God knows what else hung there in the air? I found myself taking short, shallow breaths, as if that would make a difference.

  The main office, directly to the right of the stairs, was staffed with a student assistant, just as it had been in my day. Usually timid and quiet kids, almost always female, they helped out by sorting attendance records, carrying messages to teachers, and filling in for the secretary when she was away from the front desk, which was the case when I arrived.

  “I’m here to see Mrs. Walker,” I told the girl who greeted me. She had to have been at least fourteen, seeing as how she was in high school, but she didn’t look a day over ten. Her blonde hair was baby fine and hung in her eyes so that she had to brush it away to see me clearly. “I called about fifteen minutes ago and left a message.”

  “Oh, gee.” Obviously flustered, she looked at her hands, then toward the door. “I don’t usually work in this office; I’m in attendance, across the hall. But the girl who’s supposed to be here, she’s out today and Mrs. Green had to, um, use the rest room, so she asked me to cover for her.” The girl finally managed a weak smile. “She should be back any minute.”

  Just then, Nancy herself popped in. “Got your message just a minute ago.” She retrieved a stack of papers from her mailbox and leafed through them quickly, tossing a considerable portion into the trash. “Let’s go upstairs to the teachers’ lounge. It should be pretty quiet this time of day.” Here she half-covered her mouth with a hand and whispered, “And I’m dying for a smoke.”

  The whole four years I’d been a student at Silver Creek Senior High I’d speculated about what lay behind that dark oak door which led to the teachers’ lounge. The notion of grim Mr. Bayles or straitlaced Miss Johnson eating and drinking, or joking with another teacher — it was a concept so tantalizing I’d once offered Jannine my entire collection of Kenny Rogers tapes if she would just knock on the door, while I stood behind her, ready to gape. She had refused, and the room had remained a mystery.

  I don’t know quite what I’d imagined, but certainly nothing like the dark little room Nancy ushered me into. It looked more like the janitor’s office at the back of the cafeteria than a den of intrigue. Along one wall were a couch and a couple of chairs, along the other a wobbly bookcase. At the far end, with a door which opened smack onto a table set with hot plate and toaster oven, was a single commode bathroom. The last occupant had left the light on and the seat up. The place was littered with half-filled coffee cups, and smelled strongly of stale smoke and tuna fish, a most unappetizing combination.

  The effect was lost on Nancy, however. She settled easily into one of the worn gray couches and lit a cigarette. “Now, what’s this all about?”

  “I wanted to talk to you about Eddie Marrero.”

  “God, who'd have thought. Kind of brings you up short, doesn’t it?” She rolled her eyes to the heavens while inhaling deeply on her cigarette. When she finally exhaled she had the graciousness to blow the smoke in the other direction.

  “The police seem to think Jannine might have had something to do with it,” I told her.

  “Not seriously!”

  “I don’t know how seriously actually, that’s part of what I’m trying to find out.” I explained, briefly, what I’d learned so far and why Jannine was worried.

  “I don’t know what I can tell you really. I didn’t know him all that well. English and football aren’t the most compatible disciplines.”

  “Just tell me what he was like, help me get some kind of impression of the man. Except for that party Friday night, I hadn’t seen him in years.”

  Nancy kicked off her shoes and tucked her feet under her while she considered the question. “I guess you’d say he was somewhere between your all-around guy and your typical jack-ass jock. He had a puffed up idea of his own importance, but you never could hold it against him for long. He was one of those people you like, even when you know you probably shouldn’t. And he was good with kids. They all liked him, even the ones who weren’t super athletes. Of course the parents, or some of them anyway, are another story. They think the sun rises and falls on their kid, and when he’s not numero uno, they’re only too happy to blame the teacher. I think coaches probably get it worse than anybody.”

  “What about the other teachers? Did Eddie get along with them?”

  She ran her fingers through her hair, brushing it back from her face, then shrugged. “He seemed to. Of course anybody who sees himself as bigger than life is bound to alienate a few people. Some of the teachers here thought he got away with murder ...” Horrified, she slapped her hand over her mouth. “Jeez, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. It’s just he was real tight with Peterson and a lot of people resented that.”

  Office politics—I understood it all too well.

  “Still,” she said, “I can’t imagine any of them killing him because of it.”

  “What about vices? Drugs, booze, gambling, sex.”

  “Are you kidding? Eddie was Mr. Clean himself. Drove most of us crazy with his moralizing. I sometimes wondered how Jannine put up with the man, but then again, he was never my type. Whatever that is. I’ve never been able to figure exactly what my type is, but I’m working on it. Process of elimination, you know?”

  I knew. I’d eliminated quite a few myself over the years. She opened her purse and applied fresh lipstick, then spritzed her mouth with breath spray. “Not that this stuff helps any. I’ve promised myself I’m going to stop smoking just as soon as school’s out.”

  “I’ve heard it’s tough.”

  “Yeah, this’ll be the fifth time I’ve quit.” She laughed self-consciously, then slipped on her shoes and stood. “I hate to cut this short but I’ve got to run off a test before next period.”

  “One more thing,” I said, as Nancy began gathering her papers. “Last Friday night Eddie said something to me about needing a lawyer. Do you have any idea what that might have been about?”

  She shook her head. “Sorry.” With the ease of routine, she hooked her purse over her shoulder and scooped up her belongings. Then she paused, brows furrowed. “You know, now that I think of it he said something last week about law or legal proceedings, or some such phrase. I can’t recall what it was exactly, but I got the impression he was involved in something unpleasant.”

  “Did he seem worried?”

  “No, it was more like he was wishing things were different. It wasn’t much of a conversation really. As I said, I didn’t know Eddie all that well, but we had cafeteria duty together last week.” She made a sour face before continuing. “It’s a thankless assignment You’ve got to talk to each other just to keep from going completely loony.”

  I saw Nancy glance at her watch. I stood. “Thanks for the briefing,” I told her.

  “I hope it helped. Anybody who knows Jannine knows she’s not a killer.”

  Nancy raced off to prepare for her next class, and I used the rest room, newly appreciative of the law firm’s spacious, well-appointed women’s lounge. As I opened the door to leave, I bumped against a lank-looking man who was pouring himself a cup of coffee from the hot plate in the corner. A stream of brown liquid dribbled from the cup and formed a puddle on the counter top.

&nbs
p; “I’m sorry,” I said, reaching for the roll of paper towels.

  “No harm, it missed my clothes, and it’s not nearly hot enough to burn my hand.”

  I’m not sure I would have recognized him if I’d run into him on the streets of San Francisco, but here on his own turf I placed Jack Peterson immediately. His hair remained blond, with only a touch of gray at the temples, and although he’d filled out some, he still had the angular boniness of a wolfhound. Somewhere along the line, though, he’d acquired a winning smile which softened the edges considerably.

  “I’m Kali O’Brien,” I said, when I’d finished mopping up the mess. “I graduated from here years ago. You were the new business teacher my sophomore year.”

  “Ah, that was a while ago.” Peterson ventured a second cup of coffee.

  “I’m also a friend of Jannine Marrero. And I went to school with Eddie.”

  Peterson cleared his throat “You’ve heard then, about his death?”

  I nodded.

  “Such a tragedy. The news has really hit us very hard, staff and students.”

  He began moving toward the door, and I followed after him. “I’m helping Jannine with some of the, um, legal aspects of Eddie’s death. Any chance I could look through his office while I’m here? It would be a big relief for Jannine not to have to do it herself.”

  Peterson stopped long enough to offer me an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, I can’t allow anyone in there. Not until I’ve checked with the police.”

  “They haven’t been here already?”

  Peterson glanced at his watch and frowned. “Not yet There’s nothing urgent about this, is there?”

  There was, but I’d have a rough time explaining. I shook my head.

  “Well, it was nice meeting you, Miss O’Brien, now if you’ll excuse me ...”

  If he finished the sentence I never heard, because he was already out the door. I poked my head out after him. When he went to the left, I went to the right, and then continued out the south wing to the gym.

  The physical education staff had a row of tiny offices behind the gymnasium. I checked the nameplates on the doors and saw that the female teachers shared offices, as they had in my day; each of the male teachers had a space of his own. Eddie’s office was one of the bigger ones, at the end. I tried the door, which was locked, and then peered through the glass into the dark interior. Metal desk, file cabinet, a couple of chairs and a floor-to- ceiling bookshelf — it was hardly elegant, but in the hierarchy of faculty entitlements, the office was probably a coveted prize.

  My nose was still pressed to the glass when I heard footsteps behind me.

  “He’s gone,” said the young man who tossed his clipboard into the next office. He drew a finger across his throat in vaudeville emulation of death. “About as gone as you can get.”

  I nodded. “I know, I’m a friend of his wife’s.”

  The man looked suddenly stricken. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been so flip. It’s just that... I mean, oh gosh.” His face had turned a deep crimson. “Peterson’s been going on like Eddie was the heart and soul of this place. I’ve had about as much of it as I can stomach.”

  “You a coach, too?”

  “Assistant coach. Football. I run the frosh team as well.” He rubbed his cheek. “I know what I said sounded pretty bad, but I didn’t mean any disrespect. I guess I’m a little shook up by the whole thing, to tell you the truth.”

  I nodded silently.

  “Look, what was it you needed? Maybe I can help.”

  “I’m trying to help Eddie’s wife get his things in order. I thought I’d go through his office, save her the trouble. You wouldn’t happen to have a key, would you?”

  He shook his head. “Every door is different There’s a master key though, you could check with Mr. Peterson, the principal.” He walked over and tried the door while he spoke. ‘‘That’s funny.”

  “What is?”

  “Nothing really. It’s just that Eddie always left the chairs lined up just so, square with his desk.” The man looked embarrassed again. “It was kind of something we used to laugh at, when he wasn’t around. I guess he was in a bit of a rush last time he left.”

  That was one explanation certainly. But I could think of at least one other.

  Chapter 6

  Betty’s Cafe on West Main had been remodeled when I was in junior high, and from the looks of it, not touched since. The exterior paint was peeling, the red and white checkered curtains frayed, and the overhead sign so faded you almost had to know what it said in order to make out the letters. I was pretty sure the food would be as bleak, but all in all, the place looked more appealing than the Jack-in-the-Box I’d passed leaving school.

  I ordered a turkey sandwich on rye and a Diet Coke, forcing myself to ignore the big piece of lemon meringue pie calling to me from the glass case. While the woman behind the counter was spreading the bread with thick globs of mayonnaise, I used the pay phone at the back of the restaurant to call Eddie’s sister.

  The gravelly male voice on the other end was accommodating, but just barely. “Susie’s at work, won’t be back ’til six.”

  I didn’t want to wait until six. I wasn’t any too excited about talking to Susie with this fellow lurking in the background either. “Maybe I could reach her at work,” I suggested.

  “Cozy Corner Books, over on Jackson,” he grunted, and hung up.

  Since Jackson ran clear across town and over to Hadley, I had to take out the phone book again and look up the address. By the time I’d finished jotting it down, my lunch was ready. I slid into an empty booth and dug in. The sandwich was surprisingly good, and the lump of limp cabbage I’d expected to find on the side turned out to be a crisp vegetable salad instead. What Betty saved on maintenance, she obviously plowed into fresh ingredients. For a moment there, I was tempted to see if the lemons in that pie were as fresh.

  When I’d finished eating, I stopped by the rest room to check my teeth for stray bits of lettuce, and then headed for the street. The day had warmed up considerably. By the time I got to my car, I could feel dots of perspiration forming across my nose and along the back of my neck. I was opening the car door and bracing myself for the inevitable flood of hot air, when two men approached the vehicle next to me.

  “Hey, Red,” one of them called. “That really you?”

  The only person besides my brother who ever called me Red was his friend Tom, who had been John’s companion in teasing me all through grade school and junior high. I’d been thrilled that they were both off to college by the time I got to high school.

  I turned and looked hard to see if I could recognize any of the devilish boy I remembered in the tall, sandy- haired man before me.

  “Looking good, Red. Looking real good.” He thrust his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels, an amused smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

  The smile was what finally convinced me. It was the same cocky half-smile that had made me want to punch him in the nose on more than one occasion. Fortunately, I’d attempted it only once.

  “I thought you were living in Los Angeles,” I said.

  “I was. But I’m here now.”

  “Still a journalist?”

  “More or less. How about you? Last I heard, you were in law school.”

  I smiled mildly. “Right, only I graduated.”

  Tom smiled back. “I figured.” His companion tooted the horn, and Tom motioned that he was coming. “You living in the Bay Area still?”

  I nodded and slid into the car. It was like stepping into an oven.

  Tom leaned on the door as I buckled my seat belt, then whistled low under his breath. “Fancy new car. BMW no less. I guess they treat you lady lawyers all right down in the big city.”

  Until they give you the shaft anyway, I thought to myself. “I work hard for every cent,” I told him tartly. “And I’m a lawyer, not a lady lawyer.”

  “You may be a lawyer, but there’s no denying the oth
er part either.” He winked, closed the door for me and then meandered over to the driver’s side of a dirty blue pickup.

  As I backed out of the parking space, he honked rowdily and waved. Twenty years had added a few pounds to his frame and etched character into his face, but I had the feeling it hadn’t touched his basic disposition.

  <><><>

  Cozy Corner Books was one of those homey, old- fashioned bookstores that’s close to becoming extinct. Hardwood floors, a couple of chairs, classical music playing softly in the background, even the obligatory cat curled peacefully in the window. It wasn’t as big or plush as some of the newer chains, but when it came to atmosphere, the place was a hands-down winner. On days when the practice of law wears me down, I fantasize about running away to a quiet valley somewhere and opening a shop just like it.

  I had only a vague recollection of Susie Marrero. She’d been fourteen to my seventeen the last time I’d seen her, a skinny thing with a mouth full of metal and shoulder- length curls. Nonetheless I was pretty sure the woman at the register was Susie. The curls had been cut short and were now several shades lighter, but she had the same wide mouth and dark eyes as her brother. And the same easy manner.

  I waited until she had finished with a customer, then introduced myself and apologized for bothering her so soon after her brother’s death.

  “It’s still such a shock.” She drew in a breath and was still for a moment Then she held out her hand, her expression determinedly cheerful. “Jannine called a little while ago. She told me you might be in touch. Something about the tavern, right?”