What support did he have for his belief that Ed Cooper had been murdered? The way a few pieces of the broken rungs of the ladder had fallen to the ground? The fact that the handle of the trap door had been left in an upright position instead of flush with the stage floor? For Ed’s death to have been murder, there would have to be a motive. Why would anyone have wanted to kill him? And since he had only worked at Holy Trinity for a few weeks, who would have wanted him dead? By the time that he left Ron’s office, he had convinced himself that he, just as that student, had based his opinion on insufficient or flawed evidence.
***
Despite the fact that he very much wanted to get home, he felt an obligation to look in on Debbie Bates, especially after hearing of the way she was treated by Sister Pat. He had no trouble finding her place as he had given her a ride on a few occasions. He pulled into the driveway and parked his Toyota Corolla behind her car, an old black Ford Bronco that had seen better days. The body panels were riddled with rust, and he imagined that the odometer would reveal that that vehicle had more miles on it than a one-way trip to the moon.
The house was quite small and in desperate need of a paint job. The roof had obviously been repaired as there were several patches of newer shingles that stood out among the rest. There was a pot of pansies on the porch landing that brightened an otherwise neglected front yard. As there was no doorbell or knocker, he rapped on the door a few times. A small dog began barking. At least it sounded like a small dog. When Debbie opened the door, an energetic Jack Russell terrier stopped barking and began sniffing at his shoes and dancing around him.
“Hi, Mike. I wasn’t expecting you,” she said as she opened the door wider and invited him in. “Don’t mind Max. He won’t bite.” Turning to the dog, she said, “Be a good boy or I’ll have to put you in the basement.”
“He’s not bothering me,” Bishop said. “So this is Max,” as he bent down to pat the inquisitive dog.
“After I picked him up at the shelter, I went to buy him some stuff at the pet store and found out that I’d maxed out my credit card, so that’s how he got his name.” Max kept launching himself in the air like a Mexican jumping bean. “Would you like a cup of coffee or something?”
“No, thanks. I can only stay for a few minutes.”
“What brings you here?” she asked after she had invited him to sit on the sofa in the living room. The sofa, like everything else in that room, was well worn. An old television with rabbit ears sat on a small table opposite the sofa. There were a couple of oversized chairs on either side of the television. Everything seemed to have been a second-hand pickup.
Debbie was in her mid-twenties, Bishop guessed. Most of the time when Bishop saw her at school, she was wearing a long white apron. Now, she was wearing a sweatshirt, shorts, and flip-flops. She was of average height and slender build. Her dirty blonde hair was tucked behind her ears, both of which sported several small earrings. There was nothing particularly distinctive about her face except for a mole above her upper lip.
“I just dropped by to tell you how sorry I am about Ed. I knew that you and he were friends.” At the mention of Ed’s name, Debbie began to tear up. She grabbed a tissue from her pocket, and regained her composure quickly.
“Yeah, we were friends.” She took a breath and exhaled deeply. “I’m going to miss him. It was nice of you to think of me.”
“Not at all. Is there anything that I can do for you?”
She sat thoughtfully for a moment. Then she said, “Can you get that ogre, Sister Pat, off my back?”
Terry had told Bishop how thoughtless Sister Pat had been to blame Debbie for recommending Ed for the job, but he pretended not to know. “What has she done?” He was going to add “this time” but decided not to fan the flames.
Debbie then recounted Sister Pat’s words and actions earlier that morning which closely resembled Terry’s version. Bishop tried to console Debbie without defending the assistant principal. “Listen, I‘ve known her for years, and that’s just the way she is. She often says things without thinking. I wouldn’t let her bother you.”
“I work hard over there, and they treat me like dirt. Did you know that they called me in last week to inform me that I wouldn’t be getting my measly ten cent raise for next year?”
“Ten cents?” Bishop repeated in disbelief.
“That’s right. A whole ten cents an hour. That’s the raise I’ve had the last two years, and next year, I’ll get zilch.”
There wasn’t any way that Bishop could defend that decision. Was their commitment to the Christian value of a decent living wage merely lip service? It was clear that Debbie was just scraping by on her current wages. “Did they offer any explanation?” he asked.
“They said something about the school having some financial difficulties. Yeah, right. Didn’t they just come into a big bundle of money?”
The veteran teacher told her that it was true that the school had been named one of the beneficiaries of a large estate, but apparently, that had evaporated quickly along with most of their cash reserves when the price tag for a new roof went, well, through the roof. The teachers had heard rumors of a salary freeze which had prompted several of them to quietly examine other options. Bishop wanted to turn the conversation back to Ed even though that might be difficult for Debbie.
“How long had you known Ed?”
“Oh, jeez” she said, “I’ve known him since high school.” Thinking back to those days brought a smile to her face. “We dated off and on, and then he up and enlisted.”
Bishop didn’t say anything. He hoped that his look of interest would encourage her to continue talking. It did.
“Ed was smart as a tack, but he hated school. He skipped so often they were going to kick him out, but he managed to graduate. I told him I wasn’t gonna wait for him, and he was okay with that. He was back in less than six months, and we started dating again.”
“Why was he back so soon?”
“He got kicked out for insubordination. He never was one to be bossed around.” She stopped for a moment, perhaps recalling something that she didn’t want to share with Bishop.
“Then what?” he asked, hoping to glean as much information about this man’s past as he could. In the back of his mind, he harbored the notion that Ed Cooper had been murdered although it would be irresponsible to share that speculation with Debbie at this point. If it was murder, the more he knew about Ed’s life, the more likely he might figure out who had killed him. The amateur sleuth in him that had emerged earlier in the school year at the age of seventy was back.
“He lived here for a while.” She stopped to gauge Bishop’s reaction to that news. The information registered, but there was no outward sign that it mattered. She continued, “He picked up a few odd jobs here and there but nothing that amounted to much.” Suddenly, she started to cry. “That’s what so ironic about that accident,” she said as she wiped her eyes with a tissue. “Just the other day he told me that he was coming into some big money.”
“Really?”
As if anticipating his next question, she added, “He didn’t tell me nuthin’ more than that. He was coming into some money, and he was happy and now he’s dead.” Max, sensing that something was wrong, started jumping up at her, trying to give her a kiss. That made her smile through her tears. “Sorry,” she said to Bishop. “I didn’t mean to lose it.”
“Nonsense. It’s perfectly understandable. Well, I really must be going.” As he stood up to leave, Max began darting around his feet. “Debbie, if there’s anything I can do, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Thanks for stopping by, Mike. It means a lot to me. It really does.”
He gave her a quick hug, and walked back to his car. This might have been the warmest day of the season so far. The interior of his car felt like a furnace. He lowered all the windows and headed home.
He usually listened to NPR radio on his drive to and from his place on Prospect Hill Road, but not this time. He
was thinking about his conversation with Debbie. He was certainly sorry for her loss. Ed was not just a high school friend or a co-worker. They obviously had some sort of a relationship. What she said about him was interesting. He was a bright guy, but he couldn’t keep a steady job. He had been in the military, but that hadn’t work out too well. He wasn’t very good at taking orders. And then there was that business about the money. He was coming into some big money. Bishop wondered what that was all about. Ed might have made the whole thing up to please Debbie. Otherwise, how would he come into big money working for minimum wage as a janitor at Holy Trinity?
Yes, what she said about him was interesting. But what she didn’t say was even more interesting. She hadn’t mentioned the fact that Ed had been in prison. She must have known about that, mustn’t she? And what about Amy? Ed was using her trailer as his address. Amy certainly gave Ron and him the impression that Ed was living there. Did Debbie know about Amy?
As he pulled into his own driveway after a very tiring day, he had the feeling that there was more to the story of Ed Cooper, much more.
Chapter Five
Even though his home was only about fifteen miles from the school, it always seemed to Bishop that the two places were worlds apart. He thought of Wemmick, a character in Great Expectations by Charles Dickens, explaining to Pip the separation between his home and his place of work: “When I go into the office, I leave the Castle behind me, and when I come into the Castle, I leave the office behind me.” Just as Jaggers, the mercenary lawyer who is Wemmick’s boss, had never seen his Castle, so too, Sister Ann and Sister Pat, who were more mercenary than missionary, had never been invited to Bishop’s home.
His “Castle” on the hill had been discovered by his late wife, Grace, who was a very successful real estate agent. As soon as she had noticed the listing, she drove out to take a look. She was immediately taken by the beauty of the countryside and by its old-farmhouse charm. She knew that her husband would love it too, and she insisted that he accompany her on an inspection of the place the next day. They put an offer in, and to their delight, it was accepted. It was a decision that neither of them regretted.
Pulling into his driveway, he was struck by the day-to-day changes in the flower gardens. At this time of the year, there was an explosion of roses, daffodils, tulips, peonies, and foxglove. Grace loved to garden, and the areas devoted to flowers expanded each year. Michael thought of these gardens as a gift from Grace that he continued to enjoy years after her passing. The hours that he could devote to the proper care of the gardens were limited, and nothing looked quite the same after her death, but that was true of everything in his life, not just the gardens.
After changing into a seersucker short sleeve shirt and a pair of lightweight chinos, he opened some windows and turned on a few ceiling fans to bring in some fresh air. He put on a CD of Vladimir Horowitz playing Rachmaninov’s Piano Concerto No. 3, made himself a cup of Earl Grey tea, flopped into his favorite chair in the sunroom, and put his feet up on the ottoman. Even though this was his “Castle,” he could never truly leave his “office” behind him. He figured that for every hour of teaching, he spent another hour at home in preparation and grading. Some of his non-teaching friends teased him about working only one hundred and eighty days a year. Those in the profession knew better. Even summers were a time for reading and professional development. At his age, most teachers were well into their retirement. As long as he continued to enjoy good health and continued to enjoy the classroom experience, there was no reason for him to retire. Bishop thought that he might try his hand at writing a murder mystery some day, but fiction could wait. When Bill Delehanty had opened that trap door earlier that morning, Bishop faced the challenge of another real-life murder mystery.
After going through his mail, he planned out his work for the evening. Since his AP class was working on a presentation, he focused on the other classes. He had a few sets of papers that he hadn’t managed to look at during the past weekend. He definitely wanted to complete at least one set this evening.
Twenty graded essays later, he decided to take a break. As the day’s warmth faded, he closed the windows and headed for the kitchen. As he had never been much of a cook, he ate out quite often. Yesterday, he had had a spaghetti and meatball dinner at Consentino’s Family Restaurant, and the leftovers were in a Styrofoam box in the fridge. That would do nicely for tonight’s dinner. Just as he was about to reheat his meal, his cell phone began to vibrate. He didn’t recognize the number, but since he hadn’t started his dinner yet, he decided to take the call. Luckily, he did. It was Lieutenant Hodge returning his call.
***
“Thanks for getting back to me, Lieutenant.”
“It’s been a while since our paths have crossed.” Bishop had helped Hodge bring a killer to justice earlier in the school year. “How have you been?”
“Fine, just fine. Thank you. How are you and your family?”
“Can’t complain. Wendy had another baby, a girl. Her name is Emily.”
“Congratulations!” Hodge’s daughter, Wendy, had attended Holy Trinity back in the ‘80s.
After a bit more small talk, Hodge got down to business. “I understand from your message that you wanted to talk to me. What’s up?”
“I’m sure that you are aware of the tragic accident that occurred at Trinity this morning.”
“Yes, I am. Hollins mentioned it to me.”
Bishop hesitated a moment before sharing his theory that Ed Cooper had been murdered. He admitted to Hodge that he had little evidence to back up such a claim. Some fragments of the wooden ladder had landed on top of the body and not underneath it. The stage-side handle of the trap door had been left in an upright position instead of flush with the stage floor. The outside door that led into the storage area beneath the stage had been unlocked, and there was no security camera on that side of the building. Someone could have crossed through the wooded lot behind the school, and entered and exited the building without being seen. He was prepared for Hodge to dismiss his speculation as complete nonsense.
“Mr. Bishop, I wish that Officer Hollins had been as observant as you. Don’t misunderstand me. Hollins is a good man, but he assumed that Cooper had fallen to his death as a result of his inebriation and the poor condition of that wooden ladder.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that the medical examiner found that Cooper had suffered a blow to the forehead, and several bones in one hand had been broken. The awkward fall itself resulted in his death. However, Cooper didn’t fall accidentally. Someone wanted it to look like an accident.”
Bishop said nothing as he reflected on the enormity of the situation. The school community had begun to recover from a murder investigation. Now, they faced a second, and even more baffling case. Who would want to kill Ed Cooper, a man who had only recently been hired at Trinity? And why?
“Are you still there?”
“Yes, Lieutenant. I’m here.”
“I’d like to get a look at the stage area for myself. I’ve already spoken with Sister Ann. She promised to cooperate in any way that she could. I’d like you to meet me there tomorrow morning if you don’t mind.”
Bishop agreed. Whoever was responsible for Ed’s death had to be apprehended, and with graduation on that stage only weeks away, the sooner the better.
***
While he was talking with Hodge, Bishop had received a call from Ron Jennings who left a brief message. “Please call as soon as you can.” What could be so urgent? Had he heard something about the school’s financial condition? Had he figured out who was stealing money from the girls’ locker room?
Jennings answered on the first ring. “Thanks for calling back.”
“Sure. What’s up?”
“Sister Ann called me a few minutes ago. She told me that Lieutenant Hodge had called her to let her know that Ed Cooper’s death was now considered a homicide.” He put special emphasis on that last word. “I must admi
t I was skeptical of your theory earlier this afternoon, but you were right.”
“Well, I take no pleasure in being right. I just got off the phone with Hodge. He asked me to meet him in the auditorium tomorrow morning. Why don’t you join us?”
“Sister Ann and Sister Pat might not approve, but I will if I can. Any idea who might have done it?”
Bishop pondered the irony. In the murder investigation that had taken place earlier in the school year, there were a number of suspects, and that made the case difficult. In the current situation, there didn’t appear to be any suspects. What case could be more difficult than that? “Not really,” was Bishop’s reply.
After concluding that call, Bishop went into the kitchen. While the leftovers were heating up in the microwave, he reconsidered his answer to Ron regarding suspects. Was it really true that there were no suspects? What about Jack Slater, the head custodian? He had certainly made it clear that he had no use for the recently hired Ed Cooper. Might those two have been in an argument that had gotten out of hand? Jack was something of a snoop. What if Jack had learned something about Ed’s past? What if he had discovered that Ed had been in prison and threatened to tell the administration? In Ed’s drunken state, Jack would have had a better chance of overpowering the younger man. And Jack did have a temper. When he was searching the building looking for Ed, why had Jack not checked the storage room under the stage? He obviously knew of that room and of the trap door. Perhaps, he also knew that the body was there.
As he ate the spaghetti and meatballs and drank a glass of red wine, Bishop thought of two additional suspects. What about Amy Davis, the woman living in that trailer on Canary Road? She didn’t seem very concerned when he and Ron had informed her that Ed was missing. From what Terry told him, she didn’t seem too upset when Hollins informed her of Ed’s accidental death either. What exactly was her relationship with that man? Might she have confronted Ed at school? The door at the back of the building was unlocked. Anyone could have entered unnoticed.
Schooled in Deception: A Michael Bishop Mystery Page 4