A Question of Judgment: A Michael Bishop Mystery

by Anthony J. Pucci

  Chapter Twelve

  It wasn’t until a little before 8:00 p.m. that he felt hungry enough to eat part of the roast beef sub that he had picked up on his way home. He had plowed through an entire set of essays from his ninth graders. He was pleased that the majority of them had improved their writing skills during the year. They were now using evidence from the texts to support their thesis statements. He wondered whether or not he would find the evidence needed to support one of the various theories as to who had killed Nick Borelli.

  As he sat at the kitchen counter, he flipped on CNN to catch the news. After several minutes of discussion of Congressional gridlock over the budget, the anchor paused for a commercial break. Before he could reach for the remote, a pitchman was touting Verizon’s cell phone network. Rather than being annoyed with the same commercial that he had seen over and over again, he was annoyed with himself. He had turned off his cell before entering Ms. Urbanski’s home, and he had completely forgotten to turn it back on. When he did so, he found that he had missed several calls, one of which was from Lieutenant Hodge asking him to return his call.

  Hodge answered on the first ring.

  “Lieutenant, this is Michael Bishop. I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to return your call sooner.” He purposefully omitted the embarrassing explanation of why.

  “No problem, Mike. It’s nothing urgent. I just thought that you’d like to hear what I learned about Victor Borelli from my friend in the Freemont Police Department. He not only looked up his record, he also stopped in at his office to ask a few questions.”

  “I certainly would.”

  “Well, it turns out that he has had a few run-ins with the police.” Bishop could hear the rustling of paper as Hodge looked at his notes. “He had a DUI in November of 2014 and paid a $500 fine. No jail time or probation as it was his first offense. In addition, the police were called to his residence at 2929 Acorn Drive to investigate a domestic disturbance twice within the last year.”

  “Were charges filed in either incident?”

  “No, but she did seek a protection order against him. Borelli claims that his wife is a drama queen and that she overreacted. I’m afraid that the victim too often decides not to press charges hoping that the situation will improve.”

  Bishop picked up on that scenario. “And sometimes the situation worsens, and someone ends up dead.” Both men were silent for a moment. Bishop wondered if Nick had paid the price for his mother’s refusal to press charges. “The mother must have pulled Nick out of Dunhill Academy shortly after the divorce, and transferred him to Holy Trinity when she moved in with her parents here in Groveland.”

  Bishop recounted his visit with her earlier that day, his recovery of the note that Cavanaugh had passed to Borelli in class, and her defensive reaction when asked what it might mean.

  Hodge listened carefully before responding. “I can see why she is so convinced that her husband had something to do with their son’s death. That note probably is irrelevant to this case, but I’d appreciate it if you would talk to that young man.”

  “I’ve already planned on doing just that, but do you really think that this man would kill his own son to get even with his wife?”

  “Listen, I’ve been in this business long enough to know that when strong emotions are involved, anything is possible. And there’s one other fact that makes me uncomfortable.”

  “What’s that?”

  “He doesn’t have any solid proof that he was in Freemont on the day that Nick was murdered.”

  “Didn’t you say that he works in an office?”

  “Yes, but he’s an independent insurance agent. It’s a one-man operation, and he couldn’t produce the names of any clients that he saw that day.”

  After the call ended, Bishop sat quietly for a moment. Why had the mother refused to press charges? When the marriage broke up, he had promised to ruin her life. She probably knew him better than anyone else, and she believes that he is responsible for her son’s death. Was Victor Borelli like Mateo Falcone in the story by Prosper Merimee, a man who had committed such an unthinkable act?

  ***

  When he walked into school the next morning, he was pleasantly surprised that Sister Pat was not at her usual post dispensing disdain for all except a select few who supposedly liked her such as his department colleague, Charlie Mitchell. Was it possible that the administration was having another closed-door meeting? Or did someone leave doughnuts in the faculty room this morning?

  Considering the latter possibility, he decided to forego his morning cup of tea and headed directly upstairs. After opening the windows to let in some fresh air and checking his email, he went down to the main office to say hello to Terry. He had a couple of favors to ask. Sister Pat was still nowhere to be seen. Was it possible that she might be out of the building for the entire day? Even better, was it possible that Sister Ann might be with her? They missed more school days than they ever would have tolerated from a faculty or staff member. They explained their absences as “attending a conference” or “conducting school business.” No one really cared since the school seemed to function quite well in their absence. In fact, the atmosphere in the building seemed noticeably more upbeat on those days.

  All hope of this being one of those days was dashed when Sister Ann walked into the main office, dropped a paper on Terry’s desk, and said, “Please take care of this.”

  Without even knowing what that involved, Terry simply said, “Yes, Sister.”

  The principal made eye contact with Bishop. He could read the unspoken question in her eyes. Why are you in here bothering the staff when you should be in your homeroom?

  Bishop spoke first. “Good morning, Sister,” he said with as much friendliness in his tone as he could muster.

  “Good morning,” seemingly annoyed that she was forced to reply. She quickly headed back to her office. Clearly, she was not having a good morning.

  Bishop leaned in to whisper, “What’s her problem?”

  Terry shrugged her shoulders. “Who knows? Who cares?”

  Switching subjects, he asked, “Where’s Sister Pat?”

  “Dentist.”

  Bishop didn’t reveal his disappointment. Rather, he switched topics again. “May I ask a favor?”

  “What can I do for ya?” she said without hesitation.

  “Would you get a message to David Cavanaugh, please? Tell him that I’d like to see him for a few minutes in my room after school today.”

  A look of curiosity came over her face as she agreed to his request. Since Bishop did not offer any indication that he was going to explain why he wanted to see Cavanaugh, she did not press him for a reason.

  On his way back to his room, he bumped into Blake Everett who was dressed more casually than the previous day. Still, he managed to look more like a business executive than a substitute teacher.

  “Good morning, Blake.”

  “Good morning, Mike.” He glanced at his watch. “Wow! I’m running a little late this morning. The drive from Ron’s place took me longer than expected. Got behind a couple of school busses. I’ve got to run some papers off before first period.”

  “Need any help?”

  “No, thanks. I should be fine.”

  “One quick favor. Would you get the name of the girl who was making negative remarks about Nick Borelli in your homeroom yesterday?”

  “Yeah, sure. No problem. Don’t want to get her in trouble, though.”

  “Don’t worry.”

  As the two men went their separate ways, Bishop had to wonder what had caused that girl to make those comments. Whoever she was, maybe she was in trouble.

  ***

  Morning classes were fairly routine. Bishop usually stood at the door to greet his students as they came in. Occasionally, he would be seated at his desk entering grades into his laptop or checking his email. Students who had been cooped up in their previous class usually took advantage of the break between classes to chat with their friends. Alth
ough Bishop might be having a few issues with his memory, his hearing was excellent. Often the students’ chatter was of nothing substantive, but there were times when he picked up some interesting information.

  This was one of those times. Two girls were discussing an incident that had just occurred in their Chemistry class.

  “I felt so bad for Mr. Everett,” one said.

  “Me too. I can’t believe that Sister Meany barged right into class and lit into him that way.”

  “I know. How embarrassing! I guess the class was a bit rowdy, but the guy’s only a sub. I can’t stand that woman,” the first girl said. “She’s so mean.” They both laughed.

  Bishop concluded that Sister Pat’s visit to the dentist had put her in a bad mood as if she ever needed a reason for that. If she had decided to make Everett her target, he would be in for a couple of difficult weeks.

  ***

  When he entered the faculty lunchroom, Ron and Blake were seated at the same table as they had been the day before. Bishop greeted everyone and sat down to his lunch of leftover roast beef sub, carrot sticks, and a bottle of water. Terry, who had been seated at a table on the other side of the room with a few of the female members of the faculty, popped up when she saw him enter. She went over to his table and whispered in his ear, “I tried to get your message to that student, but he’s absent today.”

  “Oh, that’s okay. Would you mind trying again tomorrow?”

  “Sure. No problem.”

  After she left, Ron asked teasingly, “What was all that whispering about?”

  “Oh, nothing,” he replied as if he had something to hide.

  Blake sat rather quietly as he worked on the macaroni and cheese on his tray. It didn’t appear to be one of his favorite dishes as he left half of it and began unwrapping an ice cream that he had chosen for dessert. Apparently, his first encounter with the infamous Sister Pat had negatively affected his day. He finished up quickly and excused himself saying that he had to set up a lab before his next class. He headed for the door, but abruptly turned around and walked back toward Bishop.

  “I almost forgot. That girl’s name is Elizabeth Atkins.”

  “Okay. Thanks very much.”

  “What was that about?” Ron asked as Blake headed for the door a second time.

  There were too many people in close proximity. “I’ll tell you later,” he said quietly.

  After Blake left, Ron commented, “He’s had a pretty rough morning.”

  “So I heard.”

  Ron shook his head. He whispered, “I don’t know why she’s going after him. He’s only here for two weeks. She ought to be glad that he was willing to fill in.”

  “You can’t expect a tiger to change its stripes.”

  “Guess not.” After a moment’s pause, he switched topics. “Well, I do have some good news.” His face brightened as he scraped his tray trying to get every last morsel of his macaroni and cheese.

  Bishop waited for more information, and when it didn’t come, he asked impatiently, “Well, are you going to tell me?”

  “I got a call this morning from Mary Ellen.”

  Ron was enjoying dragging this out so it must be really good news.

  “And?”

  “And she said that after she had a chance to sleep on it, she realized that she shouldn’t have expected me to risk my job to defend her.”

  “So, you two are back together?”

  “Yup!” he replied enthusiastically as he put his hand up for a high five. “We’re going out for a special dinner at Bellingham’s … her treat.”

  “Well, I’m happy for you both.”

  Terry smiled as she left the lunchroom with Sarah Humphries and Mary Nickerson. They apparently already had heard the good news. After all, Terry must have taken Mary Ellen’s call, and news travels fast in a small school.

  Seeing Terry and Sarah, two of Trinity’s most active gossips, reminded Bishop that he had meant to ask one or the other what she knew about Dr. Andrews and Ms. Urbanski.

  As Ron and Bishop walked back towards the main office, Bishop asked Ron if Mary Ellen had had any second thoughts about quitting. Art Gleason, the president of the board, who had been in on the meeting with Mary Ellen, had volunteered to fill in in the business office for a few days until the administration could find a replacement. Perhaps there was a chance that Mary Ellen could get her job back, although Sister Ann had a reputation for holding grudges.

  “Nope, she’s not interested in coming back.” As a side note, he added with a wink, “That wasn’t exactly the way she phrased it.”

  “Is she going to try to get her old job back at the bank?”

  “No. She said that money is not a problem for her right now. She’s actually thinking of going back to school.”

  “That’s great,” said Bishop.

  A panicked freshman rushed up to Ron.

  “Mr. Jennings, I can’t get my locker open!” she announced. “Someone put my lock on backwards,” she added angrily.

  Ron assured the young lady that everything would be all right. They walked to the office to pick up the master key that would bypass the need for the combination.

  As Ron walked upstairs, Bishop wondered if that student had left her locker unlocked. Sometimes students did that to eliminate the hassle of dialing the combination every time they needed to get to their locker. On occasion, students might think that they had locked the lock properly, but if the lock hadn’t snapped shut, it could easily be opened with a pull on the lock. That was a favorite pastime of Sister Pat. If she yanked on a lock as she walked the halls and it opened, she would put the lock on backwards and lock it. A student would need to be a magician to dial the combination in that position. Victims would undoubtedly be late for class as they would need to ask someone in the main office to help them open the lock with the key. It was one of the ways in which Sister Pat became known as Sister Meany. From Bishop’s perspective, she had done much worse than that.

  ***

  Since he had a few minutes before his next class, he decided to head to the guidance area. Sarah had just finished lunch, and there was a chance that she would be free. As he peaked into the open office door, he found her seated at her desk, scrolling through her Facebook account. When she realized that he was standing there, she hurriedly pressed on a key that brought up her screensaver.

  “I’m sorry. I should have knocked.”

  “You’re fine. The door is open for a reason,” she said as she brushed off her embarrassment. “What can I do for you?”

  “I just have a few minutes, but I wanted to ask you about Dr. Andrews.”

  Sarah heard someone outside her office. “Why don’t you close the door and sit down?”

  As he closed the door, he glanced out into the foyer and saw a couple of students looking at a poster with information on upcoming SAT exams. As he sat in one of the two plastic chairs opposite her desk, he told her that he didn’t think those students were there to see her.

  She asked him what he wanted to know about Dr. Andrews. “And why?” she added with noticeable interest.

  “I was wondering what you know about the doctor and Alice Urbanski.” There was something about the doctor that bothered him, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

  “You mean do I think that they’re having an affair?”

  “Well … yes,” he replied sheepishly.

  She laughed. “I think I can put your mind at ease on that one, Michael. He’s a lot older than she is for one thing.”

  “What difference would that make?” asked the seventy-one-year-old teacher.

  Somewhat flustered, she replied, “No difference, of course, but even if they were dating,” she said as she indicated quotation marks with her fingers, “which they’re not, it wouldn’t technically be an affair since she’s divorced and he’s a widower.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  “What made you ask?”

  “No reason, really. It’s just that I remember see
ing you and Terry talking with them at the basketball game that night, and yesterday as I was leaving her home, the doctor was pulling into her driveway.”

  “What were you doing at her home?” she asked with an impish grin.

  “Ron and I were there looking for something in Nick’s backpack.”

  “And did you find it?”

  “Yes, but I don’t think that it will prove to be of any help in identifying Nick’s killer,” he answered truthfully.

  Bishop checked the clock on the wall. There were just a couple of minutes before the next period. “Have those two known each other for long?”

  She shook her head. “Not at all. You know that the stands were really crowded for that game. He just happened to sit next to her. His wife died not too long ago, and I think he’s rather lo …” She caught herself in the middle of the word as she remembered that her colleague was also a widower. “Oh, Mike, I didn’t mean …”

  He put his hand up as if to prevent her from continuing. “No need to apologize.”

  She went on with her story. “After what happened to Nick, he has been looking in on her. He’s mostly retired. I think it gives him something to do.”

  “And with her parents out of town, I suppose she appreciates the company.”

  “I didn’t know about that,” she admitted.

  As he got up to leave, she remembered something else. “One more thing…”

  “Yes?”

  “I heard that he made a sizable donation to the school to support anti-bullying programs.”

  “Really?” He knew that making a donation to the school, especially a sizable one, always put one in good standing with certain members of the administration. He wondered what favor the doctor might have expected in return. “Did any of his children attend school here?”

  Sarah hadn’t been at Trinity for too many years. “Not that I know of.”

  “Grandchildren?”