by Jeff Shelby
“You didn't tell anyone?” I asked.
“Of course not,” she said. “I'm aware of what's at stake here.”
“Weren't you aware of that before?”
She shook her head and looked away from me. “What do you want from me? You want me to say I wish it hadn't happened? Of course that's what I wish for. It was a stupid, stupid thing to let happen and any excuse I give you would be a stupid one.”
“Do you have an excuse?” I asked.
“Not one that matters,” she said. “I was in a bad place, personally. I'm not going to give you the details because ultimately they're irrelevant. But I was in a less than healthy place and not thinking clearly. I liked Desmond. He's more mature than most of the kids that come through here. He pursued me and I was too weak to draw the line.”
I appreciated that she wasn't trying to make excuses, but it didn't make what happened any less awful.
“I think in my head, I tried to justify it with the reasoning that he was already eighteen,” she said, then held up a hand before I could interject. “And I am well aware of the laws regarding teacher-student relationships and how the student's age doesn't matter. I knew it before and I know it now. I'm just telling you what was going through my head.”
“Okay,” I said. “So who broke it off?”
“It was mutual,” she said. “He came in the day after we'd been together for the second time. I'd already made up my mind to tell him it wasn't happening again. But he was feeling guilty and he brought it up. We agreed it was wrong, that we'd shut the door and move on.” She paused. “It was actually pretty easy in that sense. Neither one of us was holding on to something, and neither was angry with the other. It took me two months to sleep through the night because I was afraid I was going to get caught, but nothing happened. I've tried to block it out ever since and just focus on teaching.”
I thought that was an incredibly Pollyanna-ish view of what she'd done, not to mention wishful thinking on her part. It was clear that Donnie and Burt knew what had occurred or, at the very least, knew of the rumors. It was foolish to think they were the only ones. Whether that was because Desmond told them or because they'd heard it from someone else, I didn't know. But the story was out there and she couldn't put it back in the bottle.
“And don't think for a second that I haven't been worried that this would come back to haunt me,” she said. “I knew that it would. I knew it. I know what I've done. But I was hoping against hope that it would just go away. Which was stupid.”
“Very.”
“I don't need your commentary,” she said.
“Explain the emails,” I said.
She took a deep breath. “I thought he and I were good. I thought it was going to fade into the background and I'd be able to keep my job and just go on about my business. Yes, I was worried about me. Judge that all you want.” She paused. “But then he came here one day after school.”
“When?”
She thought for a moment. “About five months ago. I don't know the exact date, but it was around then. He came in and closed the door and I just knew it was going to be bad. He sort of hemmed and hawed a little bit and I really didn't know what he wanted. I honestly thought he was going to say he wanted to get together again and I was all set to tell him no and lay out all of the reasons.” She paused. “But that wasn't it.”
“What was it then?”
Christine Gonzowski looked at me. “He wanted money.”
TWENTY EIGHT
She glanced at the door, making sure it was closed before she continued.
“He said he needed some money,” Christine explained. “I wasn't fully understanding. I thought he meant for the vending machine or something. I told him all I had was a five and he told me that wasn't it. He needed more.”
I leaned back in the desk. Her face was pinched tight, her lips set in a thin line.
“I asked him how much,” she continued. “And he said a thousand bucks. I thought he was kidding and laughed. Told him oh yeah okay let me just pull that out of the desk drawer for you.” She shook her head. “But he wasn't kidding. He said he wanted a thousand bucks and if I didn't give it to him, he'd tell everyone what happened.”
The emails had made it clear Desmond was blackmailing someone, but I hadn't been able to understand who it was until I realized Christine Gonzowski was Z. Knowing that they'd had a relationship, the pieces were starting to come together.
As was a completely different picture of Desmond.
“I couldn't believe he was asking me for it,” she said. “I mean, I really didn't believe it. I kept asking if he was serious. He kept saying he was and that if I didn't give it to him, he would tell his parents and they'd go to the police. I was panicked, completely scared. It was like he changed right in front of me.”
“So what did you do?”
“I brought it to him the next day,” she said. “I went to the bank on my way home, took a thousand dollars out of my savings, and brought it to school in an envelope. I was nervous the entire day. I showed a film in my classes, which I never do. I couldn't concentrate, and I knew there was no way I’d be able to teach. So he showed up after school and I gave it to him. I don't think either of us said a word. He walked in, I handed it to him, and he left. That was it.” She paused. “Or, the start of it, I guess.”
“Because it kept happening.”
She nodded. “Yep. He came back a month later and said he wanted five thousand.”
I’d figured the emails I’d seen weren’t the first ones, but the amount still surprised me.
“I lost it. I started crying, asking him why he was doing this, all of that kind of stuff. I told him I didn't have five thousand lying around and he said he didn't care. Told me to get it or he'd tell his parents.”
“So what did you do if you didn't have it?”
“I told him I'd find a way to get it,” she said. “I was terrified. Of losing my job, of going to jail, all of those things.” She took a deep breath. “So I cashed out part of my retirement account. I gave it to him a week later and he immediately said he wanted another five thousand. I told him that was fine, but I wasn't bringing the money to school. He could come to my house and pick it up.”
“That...doesn't seem wise,” I said.
“I needed to yell and scream at him and I couldn't do that here,” she said. “I couldn't do it in a public place where people would see and hear. It was the only thing I could come up with.”
“So he showed up?”
She nodded. “He did. And I let him have it. I screamed at him for what had to have been an hour. Told him he couldn't keep doing this to me, that it wasn't fair, that I didn't understand any of it. He actually stepped back a little and I thought I'd gotten through to him. I told him I'd give him the second five thousand but that was it. I was done. If he wanted to go to his parents or the police, fine. Go ahead. But I was out.”
“How did he respond to that? I asked.
She laughed and shook her head. “He said he was sorry. He took the money, but he said he was sorry. He didn't promise to leave me alone, but he didn't come to my room again. He tried explaining about how he needed money because he and his girlfriend were having a baby, but I told him I didn't care why. I just told him to take the money and get out, and to stay away from me.”
“Did he?”
“Yeah, at first,” she said. “I was still pretty rattled. He'd basically emptied what little savings and retirement I had. I didn't trust him. I tendered my resignation for the end of the year. I didn't sign another contract. I needed to get out of here, and I'm going to. And I'm out of teaching, too. Not that that excuses anything, but I'm just done with all of this.”
I nodded. That sounded like the first smart decision she'd made.
“I literally didn't see him for weeks,” she said. “Then I got the email. I was sitting at home, eating dinner, scrolling through my phone. I literally threw my phone through my television after I read it. Haven't replaced th
e TV yet.”
“He wanted five hundred, right?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she said. “I panicked again. I didn't have the guts to stand up to him. So I gave it to him.”
“And then he wanted more, right?”
She nodded. “Yep. He asked for a thousand and I told him no. He dropped it to eight hundred.”
“Right,” I said. “I saw those emails. He said he was coming to get it, but you didn't respond.”
“I didn't,” she said. “I was furious. I didn't want to give it to him, but I didn't know what else to do. So I took what was left in savings and brought it to school. It was actually seven hundred.”
“Was he mad about that?”
“He never came,” she said. “I never saw or heard from him again.”
“Because that's when he disappeared.”
She nodded. “Guess so.”
I looked down at the desktop for a moment. Everything she'd just told me changed nearly everything I knew. And not for the better.
“Is this where I'm supposed to beg you to not go to the police?” she asked. “Because I'll beg. I can't pay you a dime because Desmond took everything I had, but I'll beg.”
“When was the last time you saw him?” I asked, ignoring her words.
“I honestly don't know,” she said. “It was before the last series of emails because he never came by.”
“And you never saw him after that?”
“No. Why?”
“He was blackmailing you,” I said. “You paid him. You had an affair. He threatened you. Then he disappeared and was killed. Do you not see the connection?”
She stared at me.
She really didn't.
Or she was a great actress.
I studied her for a long moment. “Did you kill Desmond?”
TWENTY NINE
“You can't be serious,” she said after a long moment of silence.
“I'm very serious,” I told her. “You had a relationship with him. It ended. He was blackmailing you and you weren't very happy about it. Then he ends up dead after being hit by a car.” I let her think about that for a few seconds. “That's called motivation. If you own a car, then that's called means.”
She stared at me for a long time. Then she cleared her throat. “Listen to me very carefully. I didn't touch him and I didn't kill him. You can make whatever kind of connection you want, but I had nothing to do with whatever happened to him. I was still waiting for him to walk through that door to collect his goddamned money when I found out he was dead.” She blinked, turned, and walked around to the other side of her desk. She jerked open a drawer, pulled out an envelope, and slammed the drawer closed. She walked over to me and dropped the envelope on the desk. “I was going to pay him.”
I flipped open the flap on the envelope. Twenty and fifty dollar bills were bound together by a thick rubber band.
“I haven't even had a chance to take it back to the bank,” she snapped.
I closed the flap on the envelope and slid it to the edge of the desk. “Alright.”
She snatched the envelope off the desk and tossed it back onto hers. “And yet you're still not convinced.”
I wasn't. Up until that point, I'd been treating Desmond's death as nothing more than a random hit and run because I hadn't seen a reason that anyone might've wanted him dead. Now I knew that he'd been blackmailing Christine Gonzowski. I knew there'd been tension between them, and when she'd been pushed to the brink, he'd been in an accident that had taken his life. That seemed incredibly coincidental. It was possible that they weren't related, but Desmond's death was starting to look and feel a whole lot different to me.
She pulled a black day planner from her desk. She flipped it open and scanned the pages. Then she tossed it at me. “Look at last week.”
I found the dates and the week. “You had faculty meetings.”
“I don't know when his accident happened, but I was most likely here,” she said. “I had meetings every afternoon last week. My attendance can be verified.”
I pushed the day planner back in her direction. “Okay.”
She stared at me for a long moment. She wasn't scared any longer. She was pissed.
“You want to walk outside and take a look at my car?” she asked. “Check the bumper? Because I have no problem with that.” She shook her head. “I was furious with Desmond, but I didn't touch him. Ever.”
Her adamancy was compelling. “It's not for me to check your car. But I'm guessing the police will want to.”
For the first time in a few minutes, her demeanor cracked. The anger slipped away and she looked scared again.
“I'm going to have to tell them everything,” she said, her voice strained.
I nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”
She sat down at the desk closest to me, her body folding into the seat like she couldn't stand any longer. “I'm going to go to jail.”
I didn't say anything because I didn't know what was going to happen to her. But I didn't think she was wrong.
She laughed and shook her head. “I can't believe this is where I am. Such a stupid mistake, and it blew up my whole life.” She glanced at me. “But I didn't kill him. I may have done some other awful things in my life, but I didn't kill him and I have no idea what happened to him.”
“Then tell that to the police,” I told her. “Be honest and upfront and don't make them probe for answers. And get a lawyer.”
“A lawyer,” she said. “Sure. With all my extra money.”
“I can give you a name or two, if you want.”
“No thanks,” she said. “I'll figure it out.”
“Okay.” There wasn’t much else to say.
“And I know you don't believe me, but I don't give a shit,” she said.
“Doesn't matter what I believe.”
“But you're going to tell the cops what we've talked about.”
I nodded. “I am, yes.”
“Which means you don't believe me.”
“I would've told them anyway.”
“Told them what?”
“That you had sex with a student,” I said. “Regardless of what happened to Desmond, I'm obligated to tell authorities that I know about that.”
She frowned. “Good to know.”
I didn't care that she was angry with me. I didn't know the details of their relationship and I didn't want to know them. But she was a teacher who'd entered into a sexual relationship with a student. That was a crime, and I didn't care who the pursuer was or under what terms it occurred.
She put her head in her hands. “Do you call them now?”
“When I leave.”
“Well, don't let me keep you,” she said.
I slid out of the desk. “I'll tell them what you told me and I'll them I don't think you did it, for what that might be worth. But they are going to have a lot of questions for you because of the prior relationship.”
She sat up and leaned back in the desk. “What about Olivia?”
“What about her?”
“Have you talked to her?”
I nodded. “Sure. I talked to them right after Desmond's parents hired me and then again after I found him.”
She shook her head, annoyed. “Not what I mean. You were talking about prior relationships and motivation and all that. Have you talked to her?”
“I'm not following,” I said.
“You said I might be considered a suspect because I had a relationship with Desmond and because I was angry at him, right?”
I nodded.
“Well, then you better talk to her,” Christine said. “Because I've never seen an angrier person in my entire life than when she showed up here to confront me.”
THIRTY
I sat back down in the desk. “She came to see you?”
“Oh yeah,” Christine said.
“And she was upset?”
“Big time.”
“She knew about the affair?”
“She found out about the affai
r,” she corrected. “And then she came to let me have it.”
“How did she find out?” I asked.
“She found an email,” she explained. “At least, that's what she told me in between calling me every name in the book. He always told me that he deleted everything, but it's pretty clear to me now that he didn't.” She shook her head. “But she caught me in the parking lot on my way home. She was waiting on me.”
“So she'd just found out?”
“That's how I took it,” she said. “I mean, she was nearly incoherent, screaming at me. Lots of threats, lots of name-calling, lots of telling me to stay away from him. There was no point in lying to her about anything. She obviously knew. But she didn't even give me the chance to say anything. I couldn't even apologize. She was just spitting fire.”
“Had she talked to Desmond about it?” I asked.
“No idea,” she answered. “I seriously couldn't get a word in. I was terrified of her, in a much different way than Desmond. She wanted to kill me, and I kept thinking she was going to try and tackle me or punch me. Or worse.” She paused. “She didn't, but I was scared. I had my car keys in my hand and I was backed up against my car.”
“Anyone here witness it?”
She shook her head. “No. I'd stayed late to grade papers and I'm pretty sure I was the last one out of the building, save for the maintenance staff. Faculty lot was empty except for the two of us. I think she'd sat out there for a while, waiting on me.”
So Olivia had lied to me, too. I'd specifically asked if she and Desmond were having any problems and she told me they were fine. He'd been jealous of her ex-boyfriend, but otherwise they were good. But she'd apparently left quite a bit out.
“She got to the end of her diatribe,” Christine said. “And she started going on about how she was going to email the principal and the newspapers, to embarrass me. When she stopped to take a breath, I pointed out that was going to hurt Desmond, too. I told her I couldn't stop her, but she was going to hurt him, too. That seemed to give her pause. It took some of the steam out of her. I think she f-bombed me one more time and then left.”