by June Shaw
Roger’s shocked expression made me peer around, until I determined what this might look like. “We weren’t making a porno movie,” I said.
Gil sat back on the mat, grinning.
Roger yanked the camera away from Kat. He glared at me. “I was coming to bring you a plant, and I’m glad I did.” He thrust the camera and the plant on the sofa and then gripped Kat’s arm. “Let’s get out of here. I think I have enough misery without your grandmother creating even more.”
“But Dad—”
“Go on, baby,” I told Kat, seeing Roger tremble. “Your dad needs you now. You can explain later.”
Kat stared at me. She swallowed. Went out the door ahead of her father. He slammed the door.
I took breaths and finally turned to face Gil, sitting close to me on the mat. “I would have explained to Roger,” he said. “But it seems the three of you have things on your agenda that I don’t know about.” Gil cocked his head to the side. “Want to tell me?”
I peered at his concerned eyes. Watched the rise and fall of his sturdy chest, where I could surely rest my head. And those powerful arms that could hold me.
But he’d said he’d come over to explain something. I didn’t need explanations. I didn’t need to hear about how and why he’d met Legs. And I didn’t need to depend on him. “No,” I said, “I’d rather not talk about family concerns. And I think it’s best if you leave, too.”
“Are you sure?” He watched me. Waited.
“I’m not sure about anything. But please go.”
Gil pressed his lips to my forehead on his way out.
* * *
Roger phoned early the next morning. “Mom, I’m so sorry. Kat explained what was going on over there last night.”
“I understand.”
“No, I can’t believe I didn’t even think. I wanted to call you right away. But Gil was there.”
Oh. He’d thought we were having hot sex.
“No problem,” I said. “You’ve been upset.” I recalled what he’d carried into my condo. “Thanks for the plant.”
“I wanted to get you something, kind of a thanks-for-coming gift. I thought a peace lily might be appropriate.”
My eyes warmed. “Glad I could be here.”
Roger needed to get to work. He asked me to apologize to Gil for his behavior. I told him I would, and we hung up. Maybe I’d speak to Gil again. Maybe not.
I mentally flailed myself. I should have butted out. Gil had suggested that the first time I mentioned Kat’s indecision. Now I’d only made matters worse. Somebody bombed her car. John Winston was mad at her because of me, maybe even wanted to get even. That ruffian Sledge hated me. He’d know Kat was my grandchild. Maybe he tried to hurt her to get back at me. Would one of them go after her again?
Dragging myself into the den, I spied the camera and the plant on a sofa. I turned away from the camera. The plant looked healthy, with long shiny leaves and spiky white flowers. I’d seen such plants in offices.
I carried this one into the kitchen, trying to sound perky. “Look, Minnie, you have a new friend.” I set it down beside Minnie. The flowering thing overshadowed her. I shoved the lily farther away. “You two can keep each other company,” I said, wondering who’d be company for me. More gloom set in. “We’ll have to come up with a name besides peace lily.” I left them alone, hoping they’d know how to get acquainted. I was scoring pretty low on making friends.
Pulling on running shoes, I duckwalked to activate endorphins to determine what I must do. I neared the corner, remembered a truck had run over it, and shied away. Where had the bullet I’d found come from? Chicago had outlawed handgun purchases some time ago, but what about people who already owned guns? The bullet on my patio wasn’t shiny the last time I saw it. But it probably hadn’t been there for long, unless it was hidden beneath something.
I gave up walking in my neighborhood. The only thing I absolutely had to do was help keep Kat safe through Monday night. She’d graduate. And then I would leave.
I dusted the stove and a coffee table, uneasiness still skittering around my stomach. Leaving the condo, I drove toward Sidmore High. Paused a block away but couldn’t make myself go closer. I could see numerous vehicles parked on its lot. Undergraduates still in classes. Police cars visible, with officers continuing to make themselves known.
Sounds and faces from the school returned, making me shove the gas pedal. Shuddering, I veered away. I passed Cajun Delights and ate at the next restaurant I found. Wondered if Gil still wanted to attend the graduation.
I had little to do but shop. I moved in and out of stores, buying things for Kat and having them wrapped. I considered driving into downtown Chicago but couldn’t muster enough interest. While I drove, I spied other shops, pulled in, and bought Kat more stuff.
When the day ended, my car held lots of pretty, wrapped packages. None of them lifted me out of the doldrums.
So many unpleasant events had taken place while I was around Sidmore High. So many enraged faces. I wanted to meditate but wasn’t sure how. My mind needed to wrap around one specific incident out of all those that had transpired, one that should have alerted me to knowing the real killer. Yes, I was certain now. Someone had murdered Grant Labruzzo in that place.
I slept through the night and awoke mulling on faces from the school. Something had seemed especially out of place at Sidmore High. I was forcing my mind’s eye back there, recalling people’s voices, hearing their words, when the phone rang.
“I checked with the police this morning,” Roger said once I answered.
“And what did you find out?”
“They don’t have any real leads yet.” He sounded as disappointed as I felt. “And Mom, I went to see Kat’s impounded car.”
“You did?”
“Yes. And I suggest that you and Kat not go.”
I had no happy report to give either. “Could I do something with her today?” I asked. “Take her some place?”
“She wants to spend most of the day alone. Cooking.”
“Cooking all day would make me severely depressed.”
“I know, but cooking calms Kat. She wanted me to invite you for dinner. You can ask Gil to come if you’d like.”
I drew in a breath. “I’ll be coming. But not Gil.”
“Oh,” he said, but he didn’t ask questions.
The day seemed extra long while I waited to join my family. I pondered Kat’s situation, dusting pieces of furniture that didn’t have dust, straightening things in rooms that were already perfect, and found no solutions. By mid-afternoon I wandered out the door. Taking off in the car, I headed toward the opposite side of Sidmore High.
A sign near the school announced that undergraduates would start final exams Tuesday. By then seniors would’ve graduated and been long gone. Heading for their futures. Enrolling in college summer classes. Taking off for the Bahamas.
Would Kat reach its beaches? Today was Friday. She’d graduate Monday. Unless an explosion blew across the stage.
The more I considered, the more my mouth dried. I swiveled around the next block. Headed back to Sidmore. I wasn’t sure what I’d do there, but I needed to get some answers.
I approached the road where I’d parked after Kat’s explosion, jitters quaking through my stomach. I wouldn’t go in, couldn’t make myself go inside that gray building. I recalled the frightening sound of the fire alarm breaking into the classroom’s silence. Relived hearing terrifying screams and sirens after the bomb’s explosion in the parking lot. Firemen hosing Kat’s car. Black, acrid smoke flooding the air.
I couldn’t go back there. But solutions to keeping Kat safe drew me closer.
School buses were parked side by side in a small lot near the school, suggesting a happy place, a safe environment. No one was outside that I could see. Everybody inside the school, learning.
I eyed the parking lot. Cars and trucks jammed together as when I’d first seen the area. I drove through the lot, rounding each row
, searching for one vehicle in particular.
My spirits sank when I didn’t find it. I was heading out the lot and glancing to the side. My pulse raced. A black truck was parked in front of an outdoor building where I’d counted room numbers while on duty. It was mid-sized, fairly new. No bumper sticker.
Was it the same truck that had come near my condo? If I got closer, maybe I could tell. I whipped around the corner near the school’s indoor swimming pool and started down the block again.
A teenage girl was dashing alongside the street, away from the schoolyard. Agitated movements, stringy blondish hair. “Roxy,” I cried, pulling over. “Get in. I need to talk to you.”
Her navy eyes flitted toward the school. Roxy hopped in the car. “Can’t let ’em see me. I cut out of my last class.”
“Shut the door. I’ll take you home.”
“I ain’t going home yet, and I ain’t staying with you.” She leveled her gaze at me. “How’s Kat doing?”
“I’m not sure. Roxy, nobody would tell me what they know. What have you been hearing at school?”
“The kids all like Kat.”
“All of them?”
“Maybe not everybody, but most of ’em. They’re sorry about what happened to her. The teachers are, too.”
“When I asked you about the custodian’s death, you mentioned Ms. Jeansonne and Coach Millet. What about them?”
Her look said she was sorry she’d told me anything. She shrugged. “Hardly anybody knows. They’re lovers.”
“What?” I couldn’t envision those two together. “Are you sure?”
“I saw ’em getting it on between the bleachers in the gym.” Roxy shoved her door open and slid out.
“But why would that implicate them in a murder?”
“They didn’t see me peeking through some doors. But Grant Labruzzo walked in on them.” She shut the door and ran off.
I drove, glancing at her retreating figure in my rearview mirror. Could I trust Roxy? Could I believe her? I never would have paired up the teachers she mentioned. And how horrible, that a student would have seen those adults making love. Of course Roxy didn’t look too pure or innocent.
If the custodian really did walk in on that couple, had he told anyone? Reported their indiscretion to administrators? Or kept what he saw to himself? What would have happened to those teachers if the school staff found out?
I made a quick turnaround in a driveway and caught up with Roxy. I called to her through my open window. “How long before Grant Labruzzo died did that happen?”
She gave me a snippy look. “Two days. Now leave me alone.”
“Do you know who drives a black truck to school?” I yelled, but she dashed off, cutting through a yard, scrambling away from my view.
My car crept through streets, my mind in a whirl. Had that couple killed the custodian? To keep from being embarrassed or losing their jobs? And even if they had, how would that death connect to Kat’s car exploding?
I drove closer to the school. Could I go inside and ask the office staff those questions?
I made a small laugh, not a happy one. Of course no one in there would tell me all. I continued past the high school, trying to sort through information I’d just heard and my experiences in that place. I imagined Abby Jeansonne shoving little Miss Gird away from Coach Millet’s side and taking her place, envisioned Abby’s red-black bangs draping across Coach’s furious face. Did she make love to him and take his anger away?
Making a sound of disgust, I thrust off that image of them. I had taken to the freeway. Driven a distance and begun to slow. I pulled in at Gil’s place. He’d help me think.
I rushed to the front door and yanked it open.
Ten feet in front of me, Legs leaned over, talking with seated customers.
“Can I help you?” A young man held menus and stood beside me. His question made me realize how I must look, peeking inside.
I drew back my head. “I was just checking…the décor.”
“Oh.” He scanned the restaurant’s interior as though checking it himself. He looked at me. “Do you like it?”
“Sure do. Thanks.” I took off. How could I have thought in that building? Seeing Legs had immediately sent all my ideas away. My one consolation was that Kat was fixing dinner. Now that I had inhaled the scents in Gil’s restaurant, I wouldn’t be satisfied with anything else except Kat’s cooking. She was keeping herself busy in the kitchen. And she might know who at school drove that black truck.
I returned to the condo, gathered Kat’s gifts, and hauled them out to my car. It was still too early to go to their house. I sat out on the patio awhile, thinking but getting no answers. Returning inside, I set water flowing in the Jacuzzi, threw off my clothes, and sank into the tub.
Warm bubbles streamed against me, but I entertained no sexual ideas. I didn’t read or get sleepy. I needed to know what happened to Grant Labruzzo. Had someone gone after him? Why had they gone after Kat’s car? And would that person, or persons, go after Kat on stage Monday night? If I told the police what Roxy said, they’d certainly want the information directly from her. And she certainly wouldn’t want to tell them.
I lit chunky candles and tried to meditate. I pondered about threats—written and oral—and people. So many scary faces from that school. Frightening voices. Mrs. Peekers and I unable to get out of rooms. Accidents, or real attempts to kill us?
One attempt succeeded, on the custodian. And another, on Jayne Ackers. But she had been shot near her home. Murderers ordinarily used similar methods. Nothing the same here. I drew in a sharp breath. I’d been shot at on my patio. Maybe.
I gazed at Minnie. I’d brought her into the bathroom but probably shouldn’t have. Too much humidity. Her stem slumped against the side of her pot. Nancy used to lean like that toward the end. My chest tightened. I had to admit it—Minnie was dying. I was killing her.
I tapped the side of my head and spoke to me. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You’re not the victim here.” I needed to refocus my thoughts. I envisioned the faithful from that warehouse church, all victims of their beliefs and that preacher. All slumped across benches and the floor. Grant Labruzzo, found slumped across chairs. Who had access to the auditorium? Who might have keys?
I eyed the bubbles flowing from my tub’s walls. Felt my hips floating up. Saw my stomach rise. Not nearly as flat as it had once been. Mature women don’t need flat tummies, I told myself, trying not to pass judgment on mine. I needed to remain centered on the problem at hand. Meditation, I’d once heard, could be brought on by the repetition of some meaningless sound. I shut my eyes. “Ah-umm.” I felt the last part of my sound vibrate in my throat. “Ah-ummm. Ah-ummm.”
Feeling really silly, I let my eyes open. My face towel had floated above my thigh. The towel bubbled up in the center and felt pleasant where its edges rested. My skin looked pale, the towel, dark pink. When dry, my towel had been the same light shade as Minnie’s head.
One of Harry Wren’s cacti looked like Minnie. Pink tufts on its head. Most of his other varieties had different flowers. Black stockings, black truck. Yellow feathers. Red lights. Red skirt with pink blouse. Ink stains. The hues of people’s hair and clothes—
“That’s it!” I said, scrambling out the tub. It wasn’t a face I’d seen or a warning I’d heard. What tipped me off to a possible killer was a color.
Chapter 23
It was 5:46 p.m. when I clutched my steering wheel, nearing Sidmore High. No cars or trucks remained on the parking lot. No Friday afternoon practices or games.
I rounded the block and slowed, passing the school. It had been only a few days since I first came. I’d expected high ideals. My senior sweetie, about to graduate. Kat, wearing a gold band across her gown, symbolizing an honor student. I had arrived in town with fluffy dreams of happy days with my granddaughter and pleasant hours with my son. I’d tried to keep from seeing Gil, but in my mind’s recesses, always knew I wanted to. I hadn’t planned to search for a killer
.
I eased up alongside the stadium. A blue truck and a white compact car were parked beside the field house, a goodly walk from the main building. Coaches? Lovers? People from town who’d located a spot to leave their vehicles?
I drove behind the school, where a small recessed area snuggled beyond the addition for the swimming pool.
There it sat. The black truck.
No one was at school. Except whoever owned that truck.
Its owner would have had an opportunity. A motive to hurt Kat? I wrangled with scenarios and came up with few ideas. Parking near the truck, I scanned the area. Didn’t see anyone. I slid out.
Mexican music came from my purse. I jumped, already spooked, and yanked out my cell phone. “Yes,” I said, voice low, gaze steady on the building. If that truck’s driver came out, I’d see the person.
“Mm, nice husky tone,” Gil said. “Did I catch you at an inappropriate time?”
My pounding heart slowed its thrusts. Somehow, hearing his voice made me feel more secure. “I’m about to catch a murderer,” I said.
Gil chuckled. His laugh abruptly froze. “You’re not serious?”
I left my car but didn’t lock it. If something happened with the individual inside, I didn’t want to be chased out here and not be able to jump in this car and take off. My first plan, though, was to use my phone if I decided I needed help. “Dead serious,” I said, creeping toward the stairs, clinging to the phone. “It’s good to hear from you.”
“Cealie, where are you?”
I reached the entrance doors. “Getting a higher education.”
I could handle life alone, but felt comforted by having him sound so near. It seemed he would come with me through those heavy doors into the school’s dark bowels. But he was across town. Probably at the restaurant. With a friend. “I need to be quiet now,” I whispered. “See you.”
Hanging up, I turned off the phone’s ringer. I didn’t need Gil phoning back while I was trying to creep up to check on the person inside. Of course I would’ve wanted him here with me. But if I had explained what I was doing, he’d tell me to let police do all of the investigating. And maybe he’d be right. Maybe I should tell police what I’d surmised. But what proof would I give them to make them investigate this person? That I had a woman’s intuition? I was almost positive about who did it? No, if I needed assistance, I had this cell phone, fully charged. And I could run.