A Season for Killing Blondes

by Joanne Guidoccio

  They had just reminded me of that scene, but I was okay with it now. I was more concerned about finding the killer. Two women had died unnecessarily and I wanted justice done. I glanced at my watch. “It’s been a long day. I’m beat and ready for bed. I’ve got two days of workshops ahead of me.”

  “You’re still going ahead with them?” Laura’s eyebrows shot up.

  “There’s no reason to cancel. I’m ready to move on.” I hugged both of them and headed toward my car.

  Chapter 12

  Thursday, October 27, 2011

  The alarm woke me up the next morning. I groaned when I saw it was only six-thirty, but I needed to get up early if I wanted to get everything done. First things first. I would send off an email to Carlo. I had drafted it last night. I’m not at my best in the morning and could accidentally send a message filled with grammatical and spelling errors.

  I gave the message one last glance before sending it. Hi Carlo, Hope that all is well. I thought you might be interested in the latest regarding Jean Taylor. Last night, I went to my yoga class and heard that Jean has been out of town since last Friday morning. No one seems to know where she is, but one of the other instructors thinks she might be at her aunt’s cottage near North Bay. Her husband is still in town. Gilda

  I took my time getting ready. I decided on business casual—black pinstripe pants with a black sweater and my new purple leather jacket. I added a multicolored scarf and fussed with it for a while. I had thirty minutes to kill before leaving for the school. I made myself a smoothie and sat down to drink it.

  “You’re up early.” Sofia’s voice carried from her bedroom. “Do you have an appointment?”

  “I’m going out to St. Benedict’s for the grade ten career workshops.”

  She cast me a questioning look. “I thought you canceled.”

  “No reason to do that. I’m ready to get back into the swing of things. I’ll be doing more workshops tomorrow at Marymount College. I think I’ll start going into the office on Monday.” I couldn’t help smiling as I watched the changing expressions on Sofia’s face.

  Sofia folded her arms across her chest. “What’s going on? Yesterday, you were a mess.”

  “Well, for starters I discovered a file on Anna May.”

  “And you waited this long to tell me.” She scowled at me.

  “I haven’t seen you since yesterday morning.”

  She waved her hand impatiently. “Tell me everything from the beginning.”

  I gave her a condensed version of what had occurred yesterday.

  “I’m sorry about Henry Keenan. I didn’t realize he was Anna May’s godfather.” She shuddered. “I can’t believe you went to an investigator’s office by yourself. I hope you didn’t share that with your mother.”

  “Of course not, Sofia.”

  “I wish you would have called me before you visited Jim Nelson.” Her eyes narrowed to slits. “I would have come with you and taken that file.”

  “I considered it, but—”

  “Took too long to decide and then Jim appeared.” She finished the sentence and added, “It would have helped to know what you’re up against.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Carrie Ann must have had a good reason for investigating her own sister. Anna May might have been involved in some kind of criminal activity.”

  I had woken up feeling very positive, and now Sofia was dampening my spirits. “I’m sure that Carlo will let me know if there’s any cause for concern.”

  “His priority is solving those two murders,” Sofia said. “And another thing. I don’t think you should have sent Carlo that email about Jean Taylor. That could come back and bite you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you want another one of those calls from Jean?”

  “How would she find that out?” And then I remembered about the chatty policemen’s wives.

  “What’s done is done. Just be careful from now on.” She made a face at my smoothie. “All this murder talk is making me hungry. I’ll need something more substantial. Pancakes. That’ll do it. Do you want any?”

  “No, I’ve got to be going. I want to meet with Mirella before class starts.”

  Sofia yawned. “How about a movie tomorrow night? I’d like to see the new George Clooney film.”

  “Sure. Have a good day. I’ll see you later.” Tonight, Sofia would be having another Cake Fest, and I would be having a nice dinner with Mirella and her crowd. Our paths wouldn’t cross until tomorrow. Just as well.

  It didn’t take long to reach St. Benedict’s. I reported to the main office and was pleased to find a pretty young student waiting for me. She accompanied me to Mirella Rossi’s classroom. Mirella and I had attended teachers’ college together, and we had kept in touch through Christmas cards and occasional visits. I hoped to see more of her now that I had moved back to Sudbury.

  Mirella hugged me tightly. “Are you sure you’re up to this today?”

  “I’m fine. I’ll just take a few minutes to set up.” I had brought my own laptop, projector and extension cord along with the handouts in a weekender bag. I started to set up on one of the front tables.

  “Always so organized! You put the rest of us to shame.” She lowered her voice. “I need to warn you. The kids are excited about you being here, but not because of your presentation. They know all about your lottery win and connection to the two murders. I’ve told them to stick to the subject of careers, but they may try sneaking in other questions.”

  “I know what adolescents are like. I don’t mind their questions.”

  Mirella waved her pen. “I’ll be sitting at the back. If things get out of hand, I’ll step in.”

  I started to complain, but then thought better of it. I couldn’t very well tell her to back off in her own classroom. The warning bell rang, and the students started to file into the classroom. Mirella greeted them, and many of them eyed me with interest. I was fresh meat.

  I finished setting up and testing the equipment. I made my way to the back of the room as “O Canada” started to play on the public address system. A short prayer and lengthy announcements followed. The students started to fidget, and Mirella had to reprimand a few of them. I thought back to my own teaching days. Why did administrators feel the need to overwhelm the students with trivia first thing in the morning?

  Mirella waited until everyone settled down before speaking. “This morning, we have a special guest with us. A few years ago, more than we care to remember, Gilda Greco and I attended teachers’ college at Western. We met in the Business Education class and have been friends ever since. Gilda started her teaching career at Marymount College and then moved to southern Ontario. She has taught in different schools throughout Halton, Dufferin Peel, and Wellington counties. As many of you know, she won Lotto 649. She has just opened her ReCareering office and will be offering her career counseling services to the Sudbury community. We are very fortunate to have her with us today. She will be talking to you about Career Exploration.”

  I made my way to the front as polite applause accompanied me. Instead of starting with the PowerPoint presentation, I decided to turn the tables on these fifteen-year-olds and put them on the hot seat. “Good morning, everyone. I’m very happy to be here. I’ve been out of the classroom for almost two years and loving every minute of it.” I smiled at the puzzled expressions on their faces and relaxed. “I left teaching forty-three days after I won the nineteen million dollars and did everything I always wanted to do. I racked up thousands of air miles travelling through five of the seven continents. I intend to visit Africa next year. I paid off the credit card debts and mortgages of my friends and relatives and gave to my favorite charities. And then I got bored. That’s right. I got bored spending money. So, I decided to explore different career directions and ended up taking an online Career Development Practitioner program offered through Conestoga College.”

  The students were listening to me intently, and I knew they w
ere waiting to hear about the aborted Open House and the murders. When I made eye contact with Mirella, I saw her frowning and nervously glancing around the room. I took a deep breath and continued. “I want each of you to close your eyes and imagine winning nineteen million dollars, but with one catch. You won’t have access to the money until age twenty. What plans would you make today if you knew that you would be rich in five years’ time? I’ll give you a couple of minutes to think about it, and then we’ll go around the room. I want to hear your answers.”

  I could feel the tension in the room. One student got up and went to speak to Mirella who listened and then shook her head. I smiled. The girl had hoped to leave the room for a prolonged washroom or smoke break. Not too much had changed since I had left the classroom.

  I waited several minutes and then nodded toward the first student on my left. She spoke about her dream of becoming a doctor and working in developing countries. I jotted down notes as we went around the room. There were close to thirty students in the room, and many of them spoke of very lofty goals that included attending prestigious American universities. Lots of doctors, lawyers, CEOs, and other professionals in the group. A few wanted to become rock stars, models and other entertainers. Two students talked about dropping out and doing nothing until they got their money.

  I launched into PowerPoint, asking questions throughout the presentation. I also included some handouts that required their input. We didn’t get through all the slides and handouts. The bell rang, and the students started to get up.

  “Sit down everyone. We’re not finished yet.” Mirella made her way to the front of the classroom. “Thank you, Gilda, for coming today. You’ve given these students food for future thought. We hope to have you back soon.” There was scattered clapping, and then the students quickly left the room.

  “Sorry about that. I should have signaled you five minutes before the period ended. I must say I got caught up in your presentation. Lots of good stuff here.” She pointed to the handouts which she had also filled out. “Do you need a break before the next group arrives?”

  “No, thanks. I’ll be fine.”

  The next class went smoothly, and I managed to show all the slides this time. Again, there was no time for questions. Afterward, I followed Mirella to the staff room. I reconnected with some friends from my early teaching years and met several of Mirella’s younger colleagues.

  Before the end of the lunch break, Mirella introduced me to Barb Patterson, the other Careers teacher. The younger woman shook my hand enthusiastically and talked a mile a minute about her challenging afternoon classes. I hid a smile. After twenty-five years of teaching, I figured I could handle one hundred and fifty minutes of high-energy students.

  I stuck to the same agenda as the morning, but managed to finish with enough time for questions. While most of the questions centered on specific careers, one young man in the last period class stood and made direct eye contact with me as he spoke. “Who do you think murdered those women?”

  I heard Barb Patterson gasp. “John Bruni, that question is inappropriate. You’re putting Miss Greco in a very difficult position.”

  Over thirty pairs of eyes were fixed on me. I could ignore the question, but decided to answer it. “It’s all right, Ms. Patterson. I’ll answer John’s question.” I smiled at the young man. “The police are handling the investigation, and I am confident they will get to the bottom of it.”

  John shook his head. “They’re stumped. My uncle’s a cop. I overheard him talking on the phone. He thinks a professional was involved. Fantin’s hoping that—”

  “That will be enough!” Barb raised her voice as the bell rang. The students left before she could say anything else.

  I went over and hugged her. “It’s all right, Barb. John was just curious. If I remember correctly, he talked about going into law enforcement. These two crimes must be very exciting for him.”

  Barb sniffed. “I specifically told them not to ask about the murders. I’m willing to bet that everyone in Mirella’s classes cooperated.”

  “And so did everyone in your period four class.”

  Before Barb could answer, the P.A. interrupted with an announcement. “Would all fall coaches please come to the conference room. Our meeting will start in five minutes.”

  Barb groaned. “That’s me. I’m sorry to leave you, Gilda, but—”

  “Not to worry. I’ll just collect my stuff and go see Mirella.” As I disconnected the projector and gathered my extra handouts, my head spun with possibilities. Anna May could have hired someone to do her dirty work. Hopefully, Jim Nelson’s file would point to the killer. I met up with Mirella in the staff room. We sat and chatted for a while and then made our way to Apollo Restaurant where we enjoyed drinks and an excellent Greek dinner. We chatted about our travels, books, and the latest celebrity gossip.

  Chapter 13

  Friday, October 28, 2011

  I hoped to touch base with Sofia, but she had already left for Curves by the time I woke up. We hardly saw each other, and should another murder take place, she wouldn’t even be able to provide me with an alibi. This living arrangement didn’t make any sense at all.

  I took my time and had a leisurely breakfast. I didn’t have to show up at Marymount College until ten o’clock, and I would be visiting only two morning classes. Afterward, I would check the mail and phone messages at the ReCareering office. I wanted to make sure everything was in place for Monday. As for the open house, well, that would be postponed indefinitely.

  I left her a note.

  Sofia,

  I’m going to the office later this afternoon. I’ll grab a quick bite and meet you at Silver City Cinema around 6:30.

  Gilda

  The classes at Marymount went off without a hitch. I stuck to the same agenda as the previous day, but I must admit I was bored by the end of the last session. I never liked teaching the same lesson twice in the same day. As for teaching it six times in a row, well that was beyond boredom. I decided not to linger too long at the school. I didn’t recognize any of the teachers on staff. Some of my former colleagues had retired, and the rest had transferred to other schools within the board.

  As I drove toward the ReCareering office, my heart started beating faster, and my hands gripped the steering wheel. I could drive right by, but if I put it off today it would be so much easier not to go in on Monday. When I arrived at the plaza, I took several deep breaths and sat quietly in the car. I grabbed the extra handouts and then entered the office. I was greeted by Sofia at the reception desk and the tantalizing aroma of roasting chicken.

  “It’s nice to see you smile like that again,” Sofia said.

  My eyes traveled around the room. Sofia’s desk was clear with two neatly arranged piles of messages. Chairs and tables had been moved back and all signs of the open house had disappeared. “You didn’t have to do all of this. I would have taken care of—”

  “It’s my job, remember. And I’ve been feeling a bit guilty about not spending time with you. This Autumn Tea is a lot of work.” She sighed. “I’ll be glad when it’s all over.”

  “You can take Monday off if you want.”

  “I can’t leave you alone on your first day!” Sofia’s eyes widened. “I’ll be fine once I get a good night’s sleep, which I intend to do on Sunday.”

  “What time did you get in last night? Not that I’m checking up on you, but it seems like you’ve been putting in a lot of late nights.” Having never organized a tea, I had no concept of the work involved. I couldn’t imagine the other women in the CWL putting in those late hours. And that suited Sofia to a tee. From what my mother had told me, the Autumn Tea attracted women from as far away as North Bay. Afterward, Sofia received and enjoyed all the accolades.

  Sofia shrugged. “I tried not to make too much noise.”

  “I didn’t hear a sound,” I said. “It must have been past midnight.”

  “After I packed the cakes into the boxes, Maria insisted on making ano
ther dessert. She gave me two generous pieces. We’ll have it later.”

  “Thanks for making dinner, but I didn’t want you to go to any trouble. You’re my guest, and I should be cooking, not the other way around.”

  “I love cooking. You don’t. End of story.”

  The door opened, and Karen Anderson stepped inside. “Welcome back. Roast chicken. What a lovely aroma! I may just drop by Swiss Chalet on my way home.” She spoke directly to me. “I’m glad I caught you. Aaron and I are thinking of driving out to the cottage tomorrow.”

  I rummaged through my purse and found the key. “Sometime next week, I would like to meet with you and your Realtor.”

  “Take your time,” Karen said. “You’re just opening up here, and you’ve had a lot on your plate lately.” She added, “Feel free to spend some more weekends out there. After this weekend, we won’t be going again.”

  I was grateful for the reprieve. I didn’t want to leave her hanging, but I also wanted to do more research on cottage prices and get Sofia’s opinion about the renovations.

  “I’m glad to see you back. When are you planning…?” Karen didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence.

  “Stay out of my life, bitch!” A blast of cool air accompanied a loud, vaguely familiar voice.

  Jean Taylor stood in the doorway, clutching a pair of scissors in her hands. The normally well-groomed yogini wore baggy gray sweats. Her blonde hair hung in disarray and looked like it hadn’t been washed in days. I heard Karen gasp and saw Sofia move toward the door. Jean’s angry eyes surveyed the room, and then she walked briskly toward the lucky bamboo plant she had given me last week. She savagely cut the stalks and threw them on the floor. “May you have decades of bad luck.” She slammed the door and ran out.

  “Unbelievable!” Karen curled her lips in disapproval. “I’m so glad Mrs. Godfrey is not alive to see this shocking display. That young woman needs help. I have half a mind to call her husband.” Karen addressed me. “Do you want to get the police involved?”