Murder is Secondary: A Susan Wiles Schoolhouse Mystery

by Diane Weiner

  Susan was furious. This man was out for blood––Tank’s blood. She had to do something. She was planning on stopping by the school to help Janet in the media center anyway. The media center had received a large, incoming book order and all those books needed to be processed. She might just happen to run into Joey. After finding that report with Amber’s name on it under his bed, Susan had some unanswered questions. As she was about to leave, her phone rang. It was Lynette.

  “Hi, Lynette.”

  “Mom, I have something important to ask you. I know this will sound strange, but do you know whether Tank carries a handkerchief or whether he uses Kleenex?”

  “Why do you want to know that? He always carries a handkerchief, like a real gentleman. He joked that he carries it in case he comes upon a damsel in distress.”

  “Mom, the CSI team found a handkerchief at the crime scene. They were able to get DNA from it, and we have a sample from Tank already. I’m waiting for the lab report. I was hoping the answer to my question would have been no.”

  “Oh God, I hope it isn’t Tank’s.”

  “Me too, but how many men carry handkerchiefs these days? I’ll let you know when I get the report.”

  Susan felt more urgency than ever to help Tank. The police already had an eye witness who saw Tank outside on the construction site the night of the murder. If the DNA on the handkerchief matched Tank’s, they might have enough to make an arrest. She arrived at the school midmorning and, as expected, Janet was overwhelmed and thrilled to have the extra help. Susan picked up a box of the new books and began sticking bar codes on them.

  “So, Janet, has there been any more talk about the Amber Bernstein case?”

  “The gossip has been dying down. I expect it will pick up again once an arrest is made.”

  “Janet, do you know anything about the other sexual harassment case that Tank was accused of? Did it happen here at Westbrook?” Susan was hoping she knew.

  “Yes, it was a long time ago though. Mr. Copland’s wife was still alive then. The charges were dropped pretty quickly so obviously it was a bunch of hooey.”

  “Did you know the girl?” asked Susan.

  “They tried to keep her identity secret, but I happen to know it was a girl named Samantha Black. She was trouble––kind of reminded me of Amber in fact. She went away to college, but then she moved back. She still lives in town. As a matter of fact, I don’t even think she finished college. She works at the new Walmart. Last I heard, that doesn’t require a college degree.”

  “Samantha Black––if she went to school here, I must have been her music teacher, not that I remember her.”

  Susan watched as Julie Martin walked into the media center. That’s right, she has planning around this time, thought Susan. She put down the page of bar code stickers.

  “Hi, Susan. Looks like a huge pile of work in front of you,” said Julie.

  “Yes. I’m helping Janet process this order that just came in. Looks like most of these will go in the Social Studies’ section.” Susan picked up a book. “Look, this has Paris on the front.” She looked at the cover whimsically. “I’d love to go there some day,” said Susan.

  “Me too. Pretty tough to do on a teacher’s salary though. Here’s one about New York. At least they have the skyline correct. So often you see the skyline still including the twin towers. That just makes me sad. It’s like nothing happened, like the city wasn’t changed forever.” Susan noted a surprising depth of emotion in her voice.

  “Has Joey heard anything from any of the colleges he applied to?”

  “Well, as a matter of fact––he applied for early admission to MIT and, guess what? He’s in.” She was grinning from ear to ear.

  “Oh, Julie! How wonderful! Congratulations.”

  “Thanks. We’re both thrilled.”

  “I guess that volunteer work he did for Habitat for Humanity must have helped. That’s really impressive. Of course, I know he had the grades and test scores too.”

  “That’s a given, to even be considered; you must have those things. I think the science award really set him apart,” said Julie.

  Susan pried further. “The Habitat for Humanity experience must have allowed him to learn all sorts of things. I’ll bet he’s pretty good with power tools at this point. And don’t they even learn to drive bulldozers and dump trucks? They must need to clear a place to put the foundations.”

  “Oh no. That would have been too much of a liability. Joey didn’t even have his driver’s license back then,” said Julie. “Driving a bulldozer is tougher than it looks. My Dad taught me how when I was growing up so I could help clear the orchards. The consequences of being an only child.” So Julie can also drive a bulldozer. How interesting, thought Susan. She continued to press Julie for information.

  “You know, I’m so impressed by that science award. How did he even get interested in finding a screening test for diabetes? It’s an odd topic for a teenage boy. Most of the teenage boys I’ve ever met were more interested in how to improve sports performance or how to build faster cars. Even my son Evan wasn’t interested in such serious topics back in high school. And he went into medicine.”

  “Joey’s father died from complications of diabetes shortly after Joey was born.”

  “That explains it. Maybe he’ll be responsible for finding the cure. Who knows?” That’s the second time diabetes has come up this week, thought Susan.

  “Wouldn’t that be wonderful?” Julie looked at her watch. “Oops, time to go. Nice talking to you.”

  Susan said goodbye, then went back to the pile of work in front of her. When it got to be lunch time, she decided to leave for the day. She still had to go by the bank to close her mother’s account. If she had time, maybe she’d make a quick stop at Walmart. After all, it was on the way home. As a matter of fact, it was on the way to the bank also. She decided to pick up a few baby things for Lynette, and maybe she’d just happen to run into Samantha Black.

  Walmart was less crowded than usual. On weekends, it was nearly impossible to find a parking spot, but today she pulled in right in front of the entrance. Susan grabbed a basket and mapped out a strategy. She would start in the pharmacy area, work her way through electronics, shoes, then on to clothing. She was so grateful for those big nametags the workers sported. She threw some baby powder and diaper rash cream into the basket. She passed a worker named Kelly, and another couple of employees as she worked her way around the store. Then, Bingo! When she got to the shoe department, she saw a young woman in her twenties a sporting a name tag that read ‘Sam.’

  “Excuse me,” said Susan. “Do you carry rain boots?”

  “Sure. They’re two aisles over,” answered Sam.

  “Thank you. You know how slushy it can get in the winter. Sometimes you don’t need those heavy, fur-lined boots. Sometimes you just need a little something to keep your feet dry.”

  “I understand,” said Sam. “We have a nice selection.” She began putting stray shoes back into their boxes and replacing them on the shelves.

  “You know,” said Susan, “you look familiar. Did you happen to go to Westbrook Elementary?” She was hoping to connect with this girl.

  “Yes, I did, and I recognize you. You were my music teacher, Mrs. Wiles. I loved your class. Remember how you tied yarn ‘karate belts’ around our recorders when we passed different songs? I made it all the way to black belt. Those were some good times. Do you still teach there?”

  “As a matter of fact, I just retired last year. Now I volunteer at Westbrook High. You must have gone there too.”

  “I did. Had some rough patches during that time. I’m rather glad those years are behind me.” She looked at the floor.

  “Can you take a break? I’ll buy you a cup of coffee. We can sit in the McDonald’s over next to the big plastic Ronald.”

  “Sure. I can take my fifteen-minute break now.” Sam followed Susan to the counter where they ordered McCafes and then sat at a booth.

  “
Yeah, Westbrook High is probably not much different than when you were there. I’m pretty sure most of the teachers are the same. Did you have my friend Mr. Copland for Chemistry when you were there?” Susan noticed tension suddenly wash over Sam’s face. Sam once again looked at the ground.

  “Yes, I had him my junior year.”

  “You’ve probably seen on the news that he’s being accused of doing some terrible things. I know Mr. Copland very well and he’s totally incapable of doing what they are accusing him of.” Sam fidgeted in her seat.

  “Sorry to hear that but what does that have to do with me?”

  “Sam, I need your help badly. I know that you brought sexual misconduct allegations against Mr. Copland when you were a student there.” Susan watched Samantha’s eyes narrow. “I know that the charges didn’t stick, but the same thing is happening all over again. Another girl went after him with a story similar to yours.”

  “Really?”

  “As his friend and as someone who’s trying to clear his name, I need to know if there was any truth to your accusations. I know it was a long time ago and that you are more mature of a person than you were back then. I’ve raised two kids myself and, believe me, I know teenagers do all sorts of crazy things. I’m not judging you and I’m not trying to get you in trouble. I just want to know the truth. If he did, in fact, do the things you accused him of, and if there is any truth to the current charges, I want to get him the help he needs. If not, he doesn’t deserve what’s happening to him.”

  Sam looked down at her shoes, then slowly her eyes met Susan’s. “No, Mrs. Wiles. Mr. Copland never did any of the things I accused him of. I was a troubled, mixed up kid. In fact, he tried to help me, but I resented the fact that he thought I needed help, so I retaliated and said all those horrible things.” Sam began to cry. Susan reached into her purse and handed her a tissue.

  “It’s okay, Sam. Like I said, teenagers do all sorts of crazy things. Thank you for being honest with me.”

  “I’m sure that other girl is lying too. I hope things work out for him. I need to go wash my face off and get back to work.” Susan said goodbye. Mission accomplished. Now she had to confirm the identity of the other girl. Janet said she thought it might be Peyton Meyers.

  Susan was starving so she pulled through a Wendy’s on the way to the bank. She ordered a single patty without cheese and a small order of fries topped off with a Diet Coke. Leaving off the cheese would save a good hundred calories and she didn’t supersize the fries when the teenager at the window presented that option. She’d have chosen a salad instead, but who could eat a salad while driving? While she was eating, Lynette called. The news wasn’t good. The DNA on the handkerchief matched Tank’s. They were about to issue an arrest warrant. She couldn’t even finish her lunch. She pulled into the parking lot and called Mike.

  “Susan, that’s ridiculous. I’ve got to warn Tank. So what if the DNA matched Tank’s? Did that mean he dropped the handkerchief the night of the murder? He could have dropped it days earlier.”

  “That’s what I was thinking. Lynette says he never admitted to being at the construction site––ever. That means he lied to the police. It looks bad.”

  “I’ll get with Tank. You finish up your business at the bank and I’ll see you at home later.” Susan collected herself, then went into the bank. She wanted to tie up her mother’s affairs as quickly as possible.

  Susan signed the customer service list and waited only a few minutes before a representative called her over. Susan explained that she needed to close out her mother’s account and the young woman looked up the information on her computer.

  “Okay, no problem. I see she had both a savings and a checking account. I’ll print the forms for you to sign and it will be taken care of. What about the safety deposit box? Would you like to cancel it as well?”

  Susan had almost forgotten about the box. Her mother had given her a key when she entered the nursing home years ago. Luckily, Susan had added it to her key ring and had it with her.

  “Yes, I’d like to retrieve the contents and close out the rental,” said Susan.

  “Follow me, then.” The woman ushered her behind the locked gate which led to the safety deposit boxes. Using Susan’s key as well as the bank key, she opened the box and set Susan up in a small, sterile room.

  “Thank you,” said Susan.

  “No problem. Just hit the buzzer when you’re finished.”

  The tiny room smelled as if someone had given the table a swipe with a Clorox wipe. Susan started to go through the contents. There was an expired passport, her parents’ marriage license, Dad’s death certificate, a social security card, and adoption papers. Adoption papers? Susan did a double take as she read the cover of the agreement. What? She turned the pages and realized that these weren’t just adoption papers, they were her adoption papers! How was this possible? For sixty-one years she had thought she knew who her parents were. To find out now that they weren’t––when they were both gone, when she couldn’t ask questions or get an explanation––was unbelievable.

  She was having trouble processing this. She felt a chill wash through her body. All the clichés bombarded her. Why did her real mother give her up? Who was her birth father? Frantically, she searched through the packet for the names of her real parents. Her head was pounding. To her chagrin, she realized as she read that this had been a closed adoption. Would the adoption agency release the information after all these years? She didn’t even know if the agency still existed. She wondered how difficult it would be to track them down, if they were even alive. There was always the internet. And, oh yeah––she had a daughter who was a detective. She felt shaky. First the news about Tank; now this?

  Maybe her real mother had been a drug addict, or in jail when she had her. Maybe she’d suffered from a dreadful genetic disease and hadn’t wanted to see her daughter live a life filled with doctor visits and pain only to eventually die an early death. Didn’t most genetic diseases strike earlier than age 61? Phew, maybe she’d dodged a bullet. Maybe she wasn’t even Scottish. Her thoughts reminded her of a song from the musical Annie…Maybe far away, or maybe real nearby…Snap out of it, Susan. Focus.

  Did she even want to pursue this? What would be the point? Now her hands were sweating. In a way, she felt as though she’d be betraying her mother’s memory by pursuing her birth mom. Susan knew herself well enough, however, to know that squelching her natural curiosity would be nearly impossible. She took a deep breath and tried to slow down her breathing and her racing heartbeat. Then she thought about her new almost-here grandbaby. What if there was some medical history that might be important? Susan gathered up all the papers and when she felt calm enough to drive, she hit the exit buzzer, signed another form, and went home.

  Chapter 24

  Vinny’s Pizzeria was an institution in Westbrook. It was classic Italian, complete with red and white checkered tablecloths, a map of Italy on the placemats, and opera music playing in the background. The smell of garlic and oregano greeted you at the door.

  Dalia arrived at noon and was seated at a table near the window. The place was buzzing. The dining room was practically full and there was a steady stream of customers at the take-out counter. She studied the menu and drank ice water while she waited for her lunch date.

  “Dalia, sorry I’m late,” said Phillip. He gave her a hug and sat down. “You look terrific. Small town living agrees with you. Doesn’t it just make you want to dump that big old mansion back in New Jersey?”

  “Someday soon,” she answered.

  “Where’s Zach?”

  “He’s out horseback riding at the Rocking Horse Ranch. He said he had business to attend to this afternoon but not surprisingly, he was very evasive about what sort of business.”

  “He needs to finish and get back to his real job––the one that pays the bills––the one that is funding our future.” He pulled out a cigarette.

  “You can’t smoke in here. Put that away. You
need to work on quitting.”

  “I know, but it’s harder to quit than you’d think.”

  “I can’t even stand to look at Zach anymore. The sooner I leave him the better He’d better not screw up our plan.”

  “Here’s the waitress. Should we splurge on a nice Italian wine?”

  “None for me, thanks. I’ll stick to water.”

  The waitress came and took their orders.

  “So, Phillip, how long do you plan to stay here in town?”

  “I’m going back tonight. Someone has to run the business. Why don’t you come back with me? Why are you staying here anyway?”

  “Call it a gut feeling, but I know Zach is up to something. I want to keep tabs on him.”

  The waitress brought the food to the table. Dalia offered Phillip a taste of her soup, and he reciprocated by tearing off a piece of his sub.

  Dalia shook her head and contorted her face. “No thanks.”

  “What’s wrong? You look like you’re about to toss your cookies.”

  “Phillip, I might as well tell you. We need to speed up our plan. Six months from now, we have to be free and clear of Zach.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m pregnant. Zach thinks it’s his, that’s why he isn’t abusing me these days––at least not physically.” She watched Phillip’s face closely for a reaction. He paused for a moment, then broke into a smile. Dalia felt relieved. She felt her whole body relax.

  “That’s fantastic news. We’re going to be a family. I can’t believe it.”

  “We’re a few steps away from that at the moment, but yes, we are. I can’t wait.” She took a spoonful of soup. The waitress placed a black folder with the check on the table.

  Dalia scanned the restaurant. A familiar-looking woman came in with a few friends and sat at the table next to Dalia and Phillip. How do I know her? Dalia wondered. Oh, yes, the spa. I think she said her name was Julie. Julie made eye contact with her, then came over to say hello.