My Private Detective

by Rebecca Winters

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you very much. Please don’t think my reaction had anything to do with you personally. It’s just that I was hoping he’d let me in. And then when I realized someone else had come, I wasn’t sure, and—”

  “You don’t have to worry,” he assured her before she could finish. “Welcome to the class.”

  Grateful for his willingness to add her to the group, she shook the hand he extended. Hers became enveloped in a strong grip. Warmth spread through her body before he released it. She wondered if he’d experienced the same tingling sensation.

  When he let her go, he said, “Take any seat in the semicircle. It looks like the teacher who’s here during the day went to the trouble of setting things up for this class. I’ll have to find a way to thank whoever it was.”

  “You already have,” came her tremulous reply.

  He blinked as realization dawned. “This is your room?”

  “Guilty as charged. That’s how I learned about the criminology class. Mr. Mcfarlane left something written on the board Wednesday night.”

  His lips twitched in amusement. “What did it say?”

  “‘Rule 1. Never assume anything.’”

  “That sounds like Dan.”

  “You know him well?”

  “He was my boss until his retirement last year.”

  She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the intensity of his. “If he chose you to replace him, then it means this class is very fortunate.”

  I’m very fortunate, she thought. Maybe you’ll be able to help me.

  “I don’t follow.”

  “Considering his reputation, I’m sure Mr. Mcfarlane wouldn’t have asked you to take over for him unless he thought you were the best.”

  “That would be nice if it were true.”

  The man’s charm was already working on her.

  “Thanks again for allowing me to participate. I’ll pay at the community-ed office after class.”

  “That’s fine.” He moved to her desk and handed her the attendance sheet. She noticed he didn’t wear a wedding ring. “Why don’t you add your name. Be sure to put a home phone number next to it, in case I need to get in touch with you. I’m not anticipating any emergencies, but you never know.”

  Heidi took it from him. There were phone numbers written by the names of the other class members. It was ridiculous, but for just a moment she’d hoped he’d wanted hers for personal reasons.

  GIDEON TURNED AND FINISHED writing information on the board. It was important he keep himself occupied until the rest of the class arrived. Otherwise he might be tempted to stare at the schoolteacher sitting only a few feet away.

  There was only one word to describe her. Knockout. The woman was a knockout.

  Short and curvy, she had gleaming red-gold hair to her shoulders and blue eyes that lightened or darkened depending on her emotions. He imagined that every boy lucky enough to be in her class had a terrible crush on her.

  She was like the most scintillating ornament on the Christmas tree, the one that drew your gaze again and again.

  They’d spoken only a few words, yet he already felt the impact of her personality and was excited by it. How many years had it been since he’d sensed a real connection to a woman on first meeting?

  Her room was as exciting as she was. He liked the idea that this was her world. It told him a lot about her. Artifacts and posters from every continent had been mounted on the walls with a decorator’s flair.

  Her furniture wasn’t standard school issue. She’d had this large mahogany desk brought in, along with a small brass desk lamp, a comfortable padded leather chair and an Oriental rug, of all things, in shades of deep blue and green.

  There were several small potted trees surrounded by a dozen potted flowering plants. She’d created a setting of warmth and comfort. No schoolroom he’d ever sat in had looked like this.

  It all appealed to him. She appealed to him. Without conscious thought he let his eyes wander to her hair, which seemed to have a life of its own.

  She didn’t wear a wedding ring, which was surprising. Any woman as utterly feminine and desirable as she was should have been claimed by some fortunate man a long time ago. Maybe she was living with somebody, though.

  Since the divorce, Gideon had been operating in deep-freeze mode where the opposite sex was concerned. It was shocking to discover he could be this affected by a five-foot-two female he would have to pick up in his arms in order to properly kiss.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” came a male voice over the PA system, jerking Gideon from private thoughts he hadn’t entertained in a long, long time. “I’m Larry Johnson, head of the adult-education program for the northern region. Welcome to Mesa Junior High. It’s seven o’clock, time for class to start.

  “In case you’re having trouble finding your room, please stop by the community-ed office in the main foyer. We have maps of the building. There will be no bell rung for a break to use the rest rooms or get a drink of water. That will be at the discretion of each teacher.

  “At eight-thirty a bell will ring to signal the end of the class. If you have business with the office, Carol Sargent, the secretary, will be here until nine. A reminder to teachers—please drop by the office with your attendance rolls before you leave the building tonight. Enjoy your evening.”

  While Gideon had been lost in thought, the rest of the class had entered the room. When he turned around, he discovered that every chair in the semicircle had been taken.

  Two men and eight women were looking at him with expectant expressions, waiting for an explanation. Nine women if you counted the attractive newcomer who seemed less carefree than the others. He couldn’t forget the disappointment in her eyes when he’d told her Daniel wouldn’t be teaching the class.

  “Good evening. I’m Detective Poletti, but you can call me Gideon. I work for the Homicide division of the San Diego Police Department.

  “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I’m afraid Lieutenant Mcfarlane had to undergo emergency surgery this morning. His wife told me it went very well, and the doctor estimates he’ll be back teaching this class by mid-May at the latest. But for the time being, you’re stuck with me.”

  He imagined he could hear their collective sigh of disappointment, even though they didn’t make a sound.

  “No one understands more than I do how you feel about that announcement. When I left the New York City Police Department and moved here fourteen years ago, I was made a detective and assigned to Lieutenant Mcfarlane’s office.

  “There aren’t many people in law enforcement who have his brilliance and instincts. His reputation for solving crimes is unequaled. I was lucky enough to work under him until he retired last year. With Daniel gone, I can tell you there’s a void in the department that will never be filled.

  “Having said that, life has to go on. Daniel asked me if I’d teach this class until his return. I’m prepared to honor his wishes, but I won’t take it personally if you’d prefer to drop out and take the class again when he can be here.”

  A hand shot up. It was the redhead’s.

  “Yes, Ms. Ellis?”

  “Heidi, please. This is my first night here, and I can’t speak for the others…but I don’t intend to drop this class. I’ve been looking forward to it.” The throb in her voice was echoed in her eyes.

  The others sounded equally enthusiastic in their concurrence, but he hardly noticed because he was still reacting to her declaration.

  Just as he had a few minutes ago, when she’d seemed almost desperate to join the class, he sensed an urgency behind her request that went beyond sheer interest. He wasn’t so egotistical that he believed she felt a personal attraction to him. That was no more than wishful thinking.

  His instincts, which had been refined over years of detective work, were telling him she had something at stake here. That in itself intrigued him. He wanted to find out what she was after.

  He also wanted to find out if she w
as involved with anyone.

  After marking everyone present, he said, “Thank you for your faith in me. Daniel told me I’d like this class. I have to admit I’m looking forward to teaching you the fundamentals of solving a crime. I’ll probably enjoy it a lot more than you will, for the simple reason that for once, I won’t be dealing with a real homicide.”

  At those words everyone laughed—except Heidi Ellis, who averted her eyes. Before Gideon went home tonight, he intended to discover what was going on inside her beautiful head.

  “I understand that your assignment was to bring a synopsis of a mystery you’re planning to write. At the end of class I’ll collect them. Over the weekend, I’ll read through them and make comments before I pass them back.

  “For now, why don’t you get them out and we’ll start the oral presentations. Two minutes each should be long enough to give the class an idea of your basic plot.

  “I’ll refrain from making comments about your stories until everyone’s had an opportunity to speak. At that point, I’ll let you know which mystery I think we should pursue as a class. Mr. Riley?”

  “Call me Bob.”

  “Okay, Bob. I can see you’re ready to go. Let’s begin with you. Come up here so everyone can hear you.”

  The other man lumbered to the front of the room. “My story is about a serial killer in Houston, Texas, who wants to get back at the female teacher who humiliated him in class.”

  Startled by the unexpected beginning, Heidi glanced up, and her eyes happened to meet Gideon’s. They both smiled. It was a private moment, over within seconds, yet he’d felt a connection with her that was even stronger than before.

  “His hatred is so great that later on in life, he gets a job as a painter for the Houston school board.

  “This man now has the freedom to enter any public school at any time and case it without being suspected. He picks his opportunity, then strangles his victim, who is always a female teacher. His original teacher has long since retired, but he doesn’t care about that. Ten teachers are killed before he’s caught.”

  Gideon’s eyes met Heidi’s once more, then he thanked Bob and asked the woman seated next to him, Nancy to come up and read her synopsis.

  “I’m really nervous, you guys, so don’t laugh. My story is about two world-class skiers, a guy and a girl, training in Vail, Colorado. They’ve lived together for six months and share a room at the hotel where the American team is staying.

  “But their relationship has been plagued by violent arguments. She accuses him of not being interested in her career and wanting all the fame for himself. He accuses her of sleeping around.

  “One morning after completing their first run, they go up on the double chairlift to start the second. Halfway to the top of the mountain, she falls out of the chair. Steve is horrified but can’t do anything until he’s let off at the top so he can ski down to her.

  “By the time he reaches her, she’s dead. There’s an inquest, and it’s determined that Steve pushed her to her death. He maintains that he’s innocent, that he was in love with her. But the facts suggest otherwise.”

  Nancy looked at Gideon. “That’s all I have so far.”

  “That’s fine. Next let’s hear from Patricia.”

  “Call me Pat,” she said after taking Nancy’s place.

  “This is my very first story, so it’s not really thought out the way the others have been. I want to write a novel about this nurse who kills people on life support because she thinks she’s doing them a favor.

  “I’m a nurse, so I feel comfortable about writing a murder mystery set in a hospital. There are a lot of suspects, including this one doctor she’s in love with and…”

  HEIDI SAT THROUGH the next fifteen minutes of scenarios, still warmed by the detective’s smile. She’d thought him attractive the moment she’d caught sight of him from the hallway. But the amusement reflected in his face and eyes had made him totally irresistible—the kind of man you rarely met in real life. The chances of his being single and unattached were a million to one, she thought with resignation.

  “Heidi?” He called on her last. “If you’re a writer, perhaps you’d like to share an idea for a mystery novel with the class.”

  She lifted her head. Again she found herself gazing into eyes as blue as the ocean after the sun has burned off the haze.

  Afraid it would sound suspicious if she stood up and gave a perfect outline of Dana’s case without the aid of notes, she said, “I wasn’t here for the first class to get the assignment. So if it’s all right, I’ll bring a synopsis next week.”

  No one needed to know she wasn’t a writer. She figured that most, if not all, of the people in this room held a job and did writing in their spare time. For the next while she preferred to stay in the background; she’d wait to see what comments he’d make about her synopsis once she’d handed it in next Wednesday.

  She hated any delay, but she was afraid to talk to him about Dana’s case so soon. After all, this was the detective’s first night teaching the class. She couldn’t risk alienating him right off the bat by asking for preferential treatment, not when an opportunity like this had finally come her way.

  The detective eyed her for a moment, as if pondering her response. Then he got out of his chair to stand in front of them, legs slightly apart. Heidi tried not to be aware of his arresting masculinity, but it was impossible.

  “Every story I heard would make a fascinating mystery, but I’m not an editor. My job is to turn you into professional sleuths in ten easy lessons—at least in your imaginations.” He flashed the class a quick smile that made Heidi’s heart falter briefly.

  “On Wednesday night you learned that you must never assume anything. After hearing from everyone this evening, you can see why. Although we knew who the culprit was in all but one of the stories—Nancy’s—our minds were busy conceiving of any number of suspects who would’ve been capable of committing the crime. No doubt many of you would’ve chosen another character to be the culprit.”

  Heidi nodded with the class. That was exactly what she’d done.

  “How many of you have ever eaten a pastry called a Napoleon?”

  Several hands went up, including Heidi’s.

  “The French call them mille feuilles. A thousand leaves. The pastry is made up of many layers. A mystery is like that. As soon as you expose one layer, you find another, then another. Leaf by leaf, you carefully examine what you find.

  “You subject the crime scene to thorough analysis. You follow up on every lead. You never leave a question unanswered, even if it takes you months, years or in some cases, all your life.”

  Heidi shivered. He’d just zeroed in on her thoughts. Even if it took the rest of her life, she would never stop doing everything she could to see her friend go free.

  “If some small point nags at you,” the detective continued, “you listen to your intuition and rethink it, rework it, until you’ve satisfied your curiosity.

  “When I’m called to a crime scene, I try to keep an open mind, no matter how strongly I might be persuaded that a certain suspect has to be guilty because of circumstantial evidence.

  “Consider Nancy’s story about the skier who was blamed for pushing his girlfriend to her death. We weren’t given a lot of information, yet based on the fact that he was sitting next to her, he had opportunity. We know he was jealous, so he certainly had motive.

  “I don’t know how Nancy plans to finish her story, but by the time this class is through, she’ll understand what goes on at a crime scene. Armed with that information, I’m betting she’ll have come up with any number of alternative explanations.

  “The victim might have been on drugs and fallen by accident. Or she could have decided to commit suicide—for any of a number of reasons. She might have hated her boyfriend enough to kill herself and hope he got blamed for it.

  “Maybe she was pregnant with another skier’s baby and didn’t want her coach to know because he’d throw her off the
team. Maybe she was pregnant with her boyfriend’s baby and didn’t want him to know. Or maybe she was afraid that if he knew, he’d insist she give up skiing.

  “Possibly she jumped intending to kill the baby but not herself. Then again, maybe the bar holding the skiers in the chair gave way, and it was an accident, pure and simple. Especially if there was enough wind to make the chair sway and send her plunging before her boyfriend could prevent it.”

  “I love that explanation!” Nancy cried out.

  While everyone laughed and began a lively discussion of which version they felt she should use, Heidi thought back to Dana’s case. According to Dr. Turner, the prosecuting attorney had called it an open-and-shut case. A question of sibling rivalry that turned to jealousy, then murder.

  But listening to Detective Poletti suggesting one possibility after another for the fictional skier’s death underscored Heidi’s belief that the police had overlooked something vital in Dana’s case. Something that would point to the real killer.

  “Before I tell you which of your stories I’ve picked for the class to analyze, I’m going to pass out a packet detailing a homicide that happened in San Francisco a few years ago.

  “This case will be your textbook. Inside is an incident report, crime-scene evidence reports, coroner’s report and a press report revealing the arrests made after a two-month investigation. Go ahead and look through it. Then you’re free to get up and stretch or use the washrooms at either end of the hall. We’ll reconvene in five minutes.”

  Only the man named Tom left the room. The others immersed themselves in the information the detective had distributed. Heidi glanced through the pages, but her mind was still on Dana.

  How she wished it was her friend’s case they were studying!

  As soon as Tom was back, the teacher asked each of them to make one observation about what they’d read. Everyone said the same thing. They had no idea so much evidence could be gathered at a crime scene.

  The detective nodded. “Perhaps now you’ll understand why many criminal cases fail to stand up in court. If the investigating officers overlook a piece of vital evidence, or if someone purposely or unwittingly disturbs the crime scene and tampers with the evidence before a team of experts can get in there, crucial bits of information are lost.