Schooled in Deception: A Michael Bishop Mystery

by Anthony J. Pucci

  And then there was Debbie Bates. She seemed quite upset with the news of Ed’s death. Could that have been an act? As she described it, her relationship with Ed was rather complicated. They had dated off and on for some time. Did she know that Ed was spending time with Amy? Could she have been jealous enough to kill? She works in the cafeteria which means that she arrives at school long before the faculty and the students. She could have entered the auditorium by way of the kitchen entrance without drawing suspicion.

  To complicate matters even further, according to Amy, Ed had been in prison. That opened other possibilities. What if someone didn’t like the fact that he had been released from prison, and decided to exact his own brand of justice? What if he had made an enemy while in prison? Once released, that person might have sought to confront him.

  After dinner, he found himself unable to work efficiently on his papers. He was more tired than usual, so he decided to get to bed early. He had a feeling that tomorrow would prove to be a long day.

  Chapter Six

  Weather-wise, Tuesday promised to be another picture perfect late-May day. Yet, so much had changed in the twenty-four hours since Bishop had first observed the bizarre striping of the faculty parking lot. The administrators, in their typical knee-jerk reaction, had been poised to dismiss Ed Cooper, the perpetrator of that fiasco, as soon as he could be located. Now, they were intent on conducting business as usual despite the fact that Ed had been murdered on school grounds.

  That much was made clear to all at a special faculty meeting held before the beginning of homeroom period. As the teachers, some still bleary-eyed and in desperate need of a caffeine jolt, filed into the library, Sister Pat concentrated on marking her attendance sheet. Anyone who missed a meeting could expect a not-very-subtle reprimand. A few of the teachers cast hopeful glances in the direction of a table where doughnuts occasionally appeared. This was not one of those occasions. At precisely 8:10 a.m., Sister Ann began the meeting with a prayer. Bishop thought it strange that she made no mention of Ed in her prayer. The repose of his soul was not, apparently, her concern. She introduced Dan Morehouse, a member of the school’s board of directors.

  Dressed in a finely tailored charcoal suit, Dan flashed the same smile that had helped him sell so many cars at his dealership, Morehouse Motors. “Good morning, everyone. Thanks for giving me a few minutes of your time.”

  Frank Wilson, who was seated next to Bishop, leaned toward him and whispered, “As if we had a choice.” Without any change in expression, Bishop nodded slightly in agreement.

  “As you may have heard, the school is experiencing some serious financial challenges. Consequently, I am sad to say, the board has recommended a freeze on all salaries for the next academic year.”

  There was absolute silence in the room. Sister Pat looked menacingly around the room, hoping to deter anyone from making a comment. If she was expecting people to say, “Thank you,” she was soon disappointed.

  Frank didn’t bother to raise his hand. “What gives, Dan? How bad can it be?”

  Dan maintained his smile and his cool demeanor. It was the same approach he used on a customer who balked at a low-ball trade-in offer on a vehicle. “Well, I’m afraid that I can’t discuss all the particulars, but suffice it to say that these problems are substantial, and it would be irresponsible of the board to ignore them.”

  Sister Ann was nervously looking at the clock and at Sister Pat, hoping that Dan would not take any further questions. Before she could send the teachers off to their homerooms, Diane Ramos raised her hand, and Dan acknowledged her.

  “I don’t understand how this could happen so suddenly. Isn’t it rather late in the year to inform us of this decision?” She looked around the room, expecting support, but found little. Most of the faculty were willing to forego their hard-earned increase in salary rather than speak out and incur the wrath of the administration in which case they might be looking at losing their job, not just the increase.

  Dan stumbled in his attempt to answer Diane’s question. His look of self-confidence had faded noticeably. “Well, part of the problem was converting our entire financial system to a new program. That caused quite a few glitches, let me tell you. Another factor was that the cost of replacing the roof came in much higher than we anticipated.” If he was looking for sympathy from this group, he was mistaken.

  Bishop directed his comment to Sister Ann. “I think that this illustrates the importance of having a faculty member on the board or at least on the finance committee so that we would be better informed, and also so that the faculty would have some input in how such crises are handled.” Several teachers dared to verbalize their agreement.

  Sister Ann stood up. “This is neither the time nor place to have that discussion, Mr. Bishop,” she said sharply. The homeroom bell rang. The meeting was over. Dan seemed visibly relieved as everyone filed out.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Bishop caught a glimpse of Charlie Mitchell, one of his colleagues in the English department, approaching Sister Ann.

  ***

  When he arrived at his homeroom, all of his students were congregated near the door. As he greeted them, they stepped aside so that he could unlock the door. Some began a frantic effort to complete an assignment from the previous day. The rest talked quietly as they waited for morning announcements.

  Sister Ann made no mention of Ed Cooper in her announcements. Perhaps she didn’t want the students dwelling on the death of a second staff member within the school year. A good number of them might not have known who Ed was since he had only recently been hired and his work hours were primarily after school. Regardless, Bishop was disappointed in the principal’s failure to model the Christian values to which she, as a Sister of the Holy Rosary, had dedicated her life.

  She directed the last announcement to the faculty: “Mr. Mitchell has misplaced an important manila folder. All teachers are asked to check their belongings in the event that someone picked up this folder by mistake.” That would explain why Mitchell had approached Sister Ann at the end of the faculty meeting. Bishop had hoped that he might have voiced his support for faculty representation on the board. Having worked closely with Charlie for the last dozen years or so, he knew that the chances of him opposing the tandem of Sister Ann and Sister Pat were between slim and none. It would be far more likely that he would commend the administration for having the courage to make such a difficult decision as instituting a salary freeze. He would save ripping them to shreds for the safety of a private conversation.

  No sooner had that thought crossed Bishop’s mind than Charlie materialized at his door. “Can you believe the nerve of those people? They’re like the soup Nazis. ‘No raise for you!’” As he spoke those words, his voice became harsh, and he gave a salute with his right arm extended. Bishop decided to let that pass without comment. He simply said, “I hope that your folder turns up,” and began to greet the students coming into his first period class.

  ***

  Bishop took attendance as the students took their places, opened their books and notebooks, and readied themselves for class. This group had made great strides since September, and not just in terms of academics. He remembered thinking back then that this class was going to present its share of challenges. Some, not all, were immature and unmotivated. The veteran teacher laid out his rules and expectations as he did for each class. He subscribed to the theory that “before the students care what you know, they need to know that you care.” He learned their names quickly, and always tried to treat them fairly but firmly, and with respect.

  As the year progressed, this class that he thought of as his least favorite had become one of his most favorite in the last few years, not that he would ever tell them that. They were able to accomplish good work together, and have some fun at the same time. They might not all become English majors, but they allowed him to share his passion for good literature with them. Hopefully, something from that class would stay with them long after they left the h
alls of Holy Trinity.

  The class period went by quickly, and as soon as the students left, he locked up and headed down to Ron’s office. It was time for Lieutenant Hodge to see the auditorium for himself.

  ***

  Hodge had called to say that he would be a few minutes late. Frank Wilson was just leaving Ron’s office as Bishop arrived. Frank always looked as if he had just gotten out of bed. His clothes were rumpled, and his hair disheveled. For a man in his thirties, he carried most of his excess weight around his middle. He greeted Bishop with a nod, looked at the clock, and said, “Jeez, I’ve got to run.”

  Gesturing for Bishop to have a seat, Ron remarked, “Frank’s not a very happy camper.”

  “This morning’s meeting?”

  “Yup. I get so frustrated myself,” he said as he took a sip of coffee from the mug on his desk. “I’ve had three or four people in here already this morning. If they only could see what they are doing to faculty morale.”

  “Ron, don’t tell me that you’re surprised by that announcement. We’ve both been around that dynamic duo long enough to know that they not only make some really poor decisions, they also have a knack for communicating them in a way that makes the situation even worse.”

  “Sad but true,” said Ron, shaking his head as if he could wake himself from a bad dream.

  Just then, Terry buzzed Ron to tell him that Lieutenant Hodge had arrived. Both men went out to the main office to greet him. “Would you like a cup of coffee, Lieutenant,” asked Ron.

  “No thanks. I’d like to take a look at the auditorium.” He didn’t appear to be in a particularly good mood. Homicides in Groveland were, thankfully, infrequent, but when a murder occurs, the focus is on evidence, motives, and suspects, all of which were in short supply in this case.

  As the three men walked down the hall towards the auditorium, Hodge’s shoes squeaked on the highly waxed floor tiles. “We located his next of kin. His mother moved out to Ohio some years ago. The body will be shipped out there for burial,” said Hodge. He indicated that he had given Sister Ann Ed’s ring of school keys, and that his personal effects had also been sent to the mother. That included the box that Amy had given to Hollins. “The guy sure didn’t leave much behind. There was one item that I couldn’t figure out,” he added. “There was a piece of paper with something written on it in his wallet.”

  “Do you still have it?” asked a curious Bishop.

  “No, but I wrote it down just in case. He kept walking as he pulled a small notebook from his pocket and found the page he was looking for. ‘Avignon 1868’. Any idea what that means?”

  Ron thought for a second, and said, “Nope.”

  Bishop, on the other hand, knew the reference immediately. “Avignon is the city in France where Genevieve Devereux lived. She founded the order of the Sisters of the Holy Rosary in 1868.”

  Ron and the lieutenant both gave Bishop a quizzical look. “How did you know that?” asked Ron.

  “You must remember that I’ve taught here for over forty years. I’ve heard that story many times.” After a short pause, he added, “Why would Ed have that piece of paper in his pocket?” Bishop explained to his students on numerous occasions that it was often more important to know the right questions than it was to have all the right answers. In this case, the question was easy; it was the answer that was elusive.

  The three men spent the next thirty minutes examining the crime scene. At one point, Hodge asked, “Who knew about this trap door?”

  Ron didn’t think that many people other than Jack Slater and Sister Ann knew about its existence. “I didn’t even know about it myself,” he admitted.

  “My guess,” offered Bishop, “is that more people knew about it than you might think. A lot of students are very inquisitive. Just like Bill Delehanty from my AP class. Once he saw that handle, he was compelled to open that door.”

  “And the back door entrance to the storage area was unlocked?” asked Hodge.

  Both Ron and Bishop answered in the affirmative. Bishop added, “Jack told me that he had found that door, and other doors in the building for that matter, unlocked several other times since Ed had started working here.”

  “That means that anybody could have entered the building, confronted Cooper, killed him, and left unseen.” He sounded somewhat exasperated by the endless possibilities.

  “I think that Ed knew the person who killed him,” Bishop said with conviction. “Amy Davis told Ron and me that Ed sometimes disappeared for a day or two. He might have been with another woman, but I think he spent some nights here for whatever reason. He could sleep on that old sofa and use the facilities in the locker room.”

  “Any idea who this other woman might be? Maybe there was some sort of love triangle,” said Hodge.

  Bishop felt obligated to share what he knew with the lieutenant even if it meant that a friend might be considered a suspect. “I know that he had dated Debbie Bates off and on in the past. Debbie works in the school’s kitchen.”

  Ron interjected, “I don’t think that a woman could have overpowered Ed. He looked to be in pretty good shape.”

  “Well, he wasn’t in pretty good shape that morning. Remember, he had been drinking. Plus, the wounds on his body could just as easily have been inflicted by a woman as a man.”

  “I’m afraid I have to agree with the lieutenant on that one, Ron. It seems to me that Ed must have met with his assailant in the storage area. For whatever reason, the assailant must have climbed the ladder towards the trap door with Ed following. As Ed reached the top, the killer must have kicked Ed in the head and stomped on his hands so that he lost his balance and his grip on the ladder and fell backwards to his death.”

  “I totally missed the bruises on Cooper’s body,” admitted Bishop. He had thought of himself as a fairly observant individual. Perhaps, it was time to reassess his abilities.

  “Hollins missed them, too,” replied Hodge with a bit of irritation in his voice, “and he’s been trained to be observant.” He added that the injury to his forehead was obscured by his hair that hung down to his eyebrows.

  “And then ‘whoever’ did it must have smashed the rungs of the ladder to make it look as if the rickety condition of the ladder had caused his fall. Quick thinking on the part of ‘whoever.’” Each time he said “whoever” he gestured quotation marks with his fingers raised in the air. What next occurred to Bishop, he kept to himself. If Jack had done it, he wouldn’t necessarily have thought of a way to make it look like an accident so quickly. Since he would have been the only who knew where the body was, he could have returned to the scene when he was ostensibly searching for the missing janitor, and broken the rungs of the ladder then.

  “One thing is for sure,” concluded Bishop. “Sister Pat couldn’t be responsible. If she had attempted to go through that trap door entrance, she’d still be stuck in there right now!” Jennings and Hodge looked at each other and then at Bishop, and then all three burst out in laughter. It was a moment of relief in an otherwise bleak situation.

  The lieutenant was just about finished with his examination of the area. The end of the second period was rapidly approaching, and Bishop excused himself so that he could get back upstairs for his next class. He definitely wanted to talk with Jack, Amy, and Debbie. He had a feeling that one of them knew more than what had been said so far. Not just one of them, he decided. Most likely, all three were holding something back.

  Chapter Seven

  After class, Bishop grabbed his lunch bag and headed down to the faculty lunchroom. He expected a lively half an hour if Sister Ann and Sister Pat were not there.

  Several people were already seated when he walked in. He made himself a cup of green tea and sat down next to Sarah Humphries, one of the guidance counselors who had assisted his students after the discovery of Ed’s body.

  “Those AP kids were pretty upset yesterday. Andrea called her mother so that she could go home early,” said Sarah.

  “I know. Tha
t incident was upsetting for all of us.”

  “Are you planning on meeting them in the auditorium today?”

  “No. I got word out that I wanted to meet them in my room today. I’ll let them decide if they want to return to the stage for practice. They could adapt their presentation for the classroom if necessary.”

  “I’d like to be there for the finished product.”

  Bishop wasn’t sure if she invited herself out of her interest in supporting these young people. Given her propensity to chatter, she might just be looking for something that she could later share with others. He knew that if his class messed up in any way, Sarah would have a field day recounting the events blow by blow. For that reason, he wasn’t wildly enthusiastic in inviting her. “The door is always open,” he responded noncommittally.

  A few minutes later, Charlie Mitchell walked in carrying a tray. He was about fifty years old and single. Occasionally, rumors about his personal lifestyle circulated, but for the most part, people who knew him didn’t care. “I can’t believe this!” Without waiting for anyone to ask him what he meant, he continued. “I can’t believe that they started charging us for this.” As he spoke, he plunked the tray on the table and sat down. The more he thought about it, the more upset he became. “That free lunch was one of the few perks teachers had around here, and now they’ve taken that away.”

  Russ Chandler, one of the gym teachers, took a big swig from his milk carton, and said, “I don’t mind paying a few bucks for lunch, but that salary freeze is friggin’ bogus, man.” Everyone agreed with the sentiment, although others might have phrased it differently.

  Ron came in carrying a tray with two chili dogs, two orders of fries, a small salad swimming in dressing, and two milks. As someone who liked to eat but didn’t like to cook, lunch was an important part of his day. “How much did that set you back?” asked Charlie.