“No,” he said simply. Even though he was mildly curious, he didn’t have to admit that to her. He knew that she would tell him anyway. He was reminded of something Benjamin Franklin once said: “Three can keep a secret, if two of them are dead.” That was especially true in a small school such as Trinity.
Terry went on to share what she had heard from Sarah because she thought he ought to know. Although there were teachers who didn’t know of the trap door in the stage floor or of the storage area below, some students did. According to Sarah, one of the senior girls had used the trap door to get to the storage room on several occasions. She was quite upset to think that Ed Cooper had been murdered in that same place.
The secretary’s account left a number of unanswered questions. “I wonder why that girl would have gone down there?” Bishop’s only interest in what he had just been told was in terms of how it might provide some clue to solving the mystery surrounding Ed’s murder.
“Well,” replied Terry with a mischievous laugh, “she didn’t go down there alone.”
The look on his face indicated that Bishop was still confused. “I believe that there is a sofa in that storage room.” Terry was clearly enjoying parceling out the information bit by bit.
“I don’t understand,” admitted Bishop. “What does the sofa have to do with anything?”
Like a card player finally revealing a winning hand, Terry added, “She met her boyfriend down there!”
“Oh, my!” was all that Bishop could say.
Chapter Twelve
As he waited near the main entrance for Lieutenant Hodge to pick him up, he reflected on what Terry had told him. He shouldn’t have been so surprised. He had taught Romeo and Juliet enough times to understand the risks that young lovers would take to be together. These two would not have been the first couple in the school’s history to seek privacy in some out-of-the-way place. Putting aside the poor decisions that they made, Bishop wondered if these two young people had been discovered by Ed. Might one of them have lashed out at Ed to prevent him from reporting them to the administration? Was it possible that they had seen or heard something or someone in that area? How could he question them if he didn’t even know who they were? Would Sarah give him the names of the students? Even if he had the names, there was no guarantee that they would talk to him.
His reverie was interrupted by the sound of a car’s horn. When he looked in that direction, he saw Hodge waving to get his attention. Instead of a patrol car, he was driving a black Chrysler 300. Bishop tossed his briefcase in the backseat, and hopped in.
“I didn’t expect you in a car like this,” Bishop admitted.
“I just thought it would be less intimidating than pulling up in a marked vehicle.”
“I hope that we can convince her to open up a bit more. I’m convinced she knows more than what she’s said so far.”
“If we’re really lucky, Baxter will be there, too. I’d like to know how he fits in to all of this.”
They engaged in small talk until Hodge turned onto Canary Road. As Hodge maneuvered his car around the potholes, he said, “I’ve been down this way a couple of times in the past. Not the best part of town.”
“I hope she’s home,” said Bishop.
The music emanating from her trailer eliminated that concern. A couple of windows were open, and the sounds of Kenny Chesney’s “Wild Child” blasted the air. Bishop preferred classical music, but he had picked up some knowledge of country music from his friend, Ron Jennings. He wondered if Amy Davis identified with the girl in the song.
Hodge had to pound on the door to get her attention. The music was cut off mid-beat as Amy opened the door for the two men standing on the crate. She was wearing skinny jeans and a lightweight hoodie. Hodge held his identification in front of her as he introduced himself. Before Bishop had a chance to say anything, she looked in his direction. “I know who you are. This is the third time you’ve been here in three days.” It was obvious that that was a fact that annoyed her. Turning back to Hodge, she asked, “Whatdya want?”
“I have a few questions I’d like to ask. Do you mind if we come in?” His tone was intentionally non-confrontational.
“Well, somebody’s picking me pretty soon so this will have to be quick.” With that, she stepped aside and let the men enter the trailer. The interior looked as dingy as the exterior. The carpet was worn and frayed in several places, and the walls were yellowed from smoke. A sofa and two large upholstered chairs made the living room seem smaller than it actually was. A glance into the kitchen area revealed a stack of dishes in the sink. Amy sat on the sofa and lit a cigarette, and Hodge and Bishop each sat in one of the chairs. Hodge wasted no time in getting down to business. “We’re trying to figure out who killed Ed, and we need all the help we can get.”
“What makes you think I know who killed him?” She took a deep drag from her cigarette and grabbed an empty beer can from the coffee table to use as an ashtray.
“You might know more than you realize,” Hodge suggested. “How did he seem to you when he left for work on Sunday?”
“Okay.”
“Did he seem upset or nervous?”
“Nope.”
Bishop instantly recognized her trademark pattern of one-word answers and sought to change that. “When Mr. Jennings and I were here the other day, you didn’t seem very concerned that Ed hadn’t come home from work that night. Amy, if you don’t mind my asking, why not?”
She got more comfortable by pulling her feet up beneath her on the sofa. “I told you he’d done it before. If he missed the last bus, he just stayed there over night and came back in the morning. It didn’t make any difference to me.”
“Didn’t it bother you that he wasn’t giving you the money for expenses that he promised?”
“In a way, yeah. But that was Ed. I’m sure he meant it when he said it, but he usually spent money as fast as he got it.”
“Did he mention recently that he was expecting to come into some big money?”
“Yeah, he said that more than once, but it never happened and probably never would. He knew all this stuff about the stock market, but you can’t make money if you don’t have any to begin with.” She covered her mouth as she yawned. These questions were clearly boring her. She glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall.
Bishop decided to ask the obvious question despite the fact that it was awkward. “If he wasn’t your boyfriend, and he wasn’t helping with expenses, why did you let him stay here?”
She took one last drag from her cigarette, tapped it out on the top of the can, and pushed the butt through the opening. She seemed upset with Bishop for asking the question. “Because he was my half brother, that’s why.”
“Oh! I’m so sorry, Amy,” he said contritely. “I had no idea.” Hodge offered his condolences as well. Amy opened up a bit more after that.
“Yeah, well, how were you guys supposed to know? Both our fathers are dead. I never got along with my mom. She’s out in Ohio now. When Eddie got out of prison, he didn’t have anywhere to go, so I let him stay here. It wasn’t going to be permanent or anything.” She was about to light up another cigarette when she heard a car pull into her driveway. “That’s my girlfriend. I’m gonna have to get going,” she said as she stood up. Hodge and Bishop stood up as well.
“One more question, Amy, if you don’t mind,” said Hodge. “What can you tell us about Ryan Baxter?”
The question was clearly unexpected. The driver of the car in the driveway tooted the horn several times. Amy went to the door and gestured to her friend to wait a minute. She turned back to face Hodge. There was an edge to her voice as she asked, “How do you know about Ryan?”
“His motorcycle was parked outside your trailer on the morning that Ed was killed.”
“So what?” she snapped back. “He’s my boyfriend. Is there any law against that?” She didn’t wait for an answer as she got ready to leave the trailer by slamming a couple of windows shut and grabbing her
purse from the kitchen counter.
“Of course not,” said Hodge who was determined not to let Amy conclude this interview without answering a few more questions. “Did Ryan get along with your half brother?”
“You don’t think he had anything to do with Eddie’s death, do you?” Her resentment at the implication was evident in the tone of her voice and the scowl on her face.
“Amy, we’re investigating a murder. We have to look at everything.” Hodge was matter-of-fact in his response as he tried to diffuse her anger. “Did Ryan and Ed ever argue?”
Amy dismissed that question with a little laugh. “They hardly ever saw each other if you want to know the truth. Eddie worked mostly evenings and weekends. Ryan works early mornings, and he doesn’t live here anyways. Listen, I don’t want to keep my friend waiting any longer. It’s rude.” She walked to the open door, hoping that her uninvited guests would follow.
Bishop realized that Amy’s remark about rudeness was really directed at them. As they stepped out onto the crate, he and Hodge thanked her for her time. Pretending that he had forgotten, Bishop asked, “Where did you say Ryan worked?”
She smiled as she said, “I didn’t,” without a moment’s hesitation. Bishop smiled at Amy. She was good; he had to give her that. Realizing that they would get the information one way or another, as she walked past them on her way to her friend’s car, she said, “Ryan works at the UPS. You can check it out if you like.” Her friend had spiked blonde hair with streaks of purple. She was listening to some country music as she waited, but Bishop didn’t recognize the song or the artist. She shut the car door with more force than necessary. Her friend’s car left a trail of dust as it pulled out of the driveway.
***
Once they were back in the car, Hodge and Bishop checked their phones for messages. Ron had left a message for Bishop asking him to return his call when he had a chance. He decided to wait until later that evening.
They were each silent for a few moments as they gathered their thoughts on the interview that had just taken place. Bishop spoke first. “Lieutenant, I don’t envy you your job. That wasn’t a very pleasant ten minutes.”
“It wasn’t that bad. In fact, I thought that it went fairly well. We now know that Ed was Amy’s half brother. I think that eliminates her as a suspect. She might have wanted him to pay his share of the expenses, but I doubt that she would kill him for it.”
“She could be lying about her relationship,” countered Bishop as he played devil’s advocate.
“One phone call to Ohio will settle that, but my gut feeling is that she’s telling the truth.”
“What about Ryan Baxter?”
“I’ll have him checked out, but again, I don’t think that she lying about him working for UPS. She knows that if that turned out not to be true, we’d be after both of them. He doesn’t appear to have a motive to kill Ed. And if what Amy told us about his work schedule is true, he wouldn’t have been anywhere near the school at the time of death established by the medical examiner.”
“You’re probably right. If he had been at Holy Trinity early that morning, someone would have heard that motorcycle.” That reminded Bishop of a thought that he had had earlier. “It’s possible that the assailant parked on Newbury Street which is on the other side of the wooded lot behind the school and approached the building on foot.”
“I’ll have Hollins and a few of the boys canvas the neighborhood.”
That was exactly what Bishop was hoping Hodge would say. They didn’t talk much for the remainder of the ride back to school. The mild weather drew people outside. They passed a park where little kids were riding the swings, making the arc as high as possible while older kids practiced their skateboard acrobatics. They drove through a residential area where the smell of freshly cut grass momentarily filled the air. A cluster of cars lined the side of the road near a field where a softball game was underway. Bishop appreciated the fact that Groveland was in many respects a sleepy little town. It reminded him of Thornton Wilder’s fictional town of Grover’s Corners in the classic American drama, Our Town. Wilder used that town to illustrate the enduring truths about life in any town in any time period. Nevertheless, there was one disturbing fact that Bishop could not forget. One of the inhabitants of his sleepy little town was a murderer.
***
As soon as Bishop arrived at home, he stripped out of all of his clothes that reeked of smoke and jumped in the shower. He couldn’t understand the fascination of smoking. It especially bothered him that a young woman such as Amy had picked up that habit since it was a difficult one to break. Whenever he visited someone at the hospital, he was always struck by the number of nurses standing the required number of feet away from the building with a cigarette in their hands. Smoking was one way to relieve the stress, but a very destructive way at that. Fortunately, the number of smokers at Holy Trinity had decreased over the years, following a national trend. What they might have substituted for cigarettes was another matter on which he preferred not to dwell.
After his shower, he decided to start a wash so that the clothes that smelled of smoke wouldn’t sit in the hamper until the weekend. He placed a CD in the player of Vladimir Horowitz playing sonatas by Lizst. Then he sat down at his desk with a cup of green tea to look through the day’s mail. There was the usual assortment of junk mail, bills, banking statements, and magazines. He put the important envelopes in a tray on his desk. The magazines including the latest issue of Mental Floss went into a nearly full bin next to his desk. He knew that he subscribed to too many magazines, but selling subscriptions was a good fundraiser for the school. He promised himself that he would begin to tackle the accumulation of magazines as soon as his final exams were graded.
One piece of junk mail caught his attention because it had been addressed to Grace. Out of idle curiosity, he opened the envelope and read that since her birthday was approaching, she was being offered a chance to buy life insurance before the rates increased. He considered calling the toll free number to inform this company that Grace had died eight years ago. He took a sip of tea and decided not to call. Let them continue to think that she was alive. Sometimes in his dreams, he could do that himself.
Her birthday, June 8th, was only days away. This year, she would have been sixty-six, her full retirement age. They had occasionally discussed their post-retirement plans. He was going to give up teaching since they both wanted to travel. Hawaii and Italy were high on their list of destinations. Had Grace lived, he realized, these last few weeks would have marked the end of his teaching career. Without her, what was the point of retiring? He had no interest in traveling the world alone.
The vibration of his cell phone brought him out of his reverie. It was Ron Jennings.
“I’m headed out to dinner. Do you want to join me?” Ron was a bachelor who hated cooking for one as much as Bishop did.
“Thanks for the invite, but I have leftovers in the fridge for tonight.” He would have invited Ron over, but there weren’t enough leftovers for two.
“If I had leftovers, I’d be doing the same thing,” admitted Ron. Switching gears, he asked, “Did you know that Debbie Bates hasn’t been at work since Monday?”
“No, I didn’t. I meant to stop in the kitchen to see how she was doing, but lunch period was rather unsettling today, and I forgot all about it.” He tried to convince himself that this latest example of forgetfulness was quite normal. “She didn’t quit, did she?” he asked, suddenly quite worried about Debbie.
“Well, if she did, she hasn’t told anyone yet. According to Terry, she hasn’t called in sick, either.”
“I’ll have to give her a call and see if I can find out what’s going on.” Several possibilities occurred to him. Debbie might simply have had enough of Sister Pat’s verbal abuse. She might have been more distraught over Ed’s death than she let on. The last possibility was the most worrisome. Perhaps she was responsible for Ed’s death and decided to skip town.
“Lee has
called her several times, but Debbie doesn’t pick up.” Lee Davidson had been the kitchen manager for years. She was a short, heavyset woman who rarely smiled. She was one of the reasons that Bishop had stopped going through the line even when lunches were free. He simply didn’t care for the nasty way she treated the kids. Bishop knew of several workers over the years who had quit because of her. She ran the kitchen with military precision, and anyone that didn’t pass muster either quit or was fired. Needless to say, Lee and Sister Pat were the best of friends; therefore, complaints about her, and there were many, were ignored.
“By the way,” said Bishop, “don’t plan on buying a lunch tomorrow. I’m treating the faculty to some pizza and wings.”
“That’s awfully nice of you. What’s the occasion?”
“I had money left over after I bought the copy paper so I thought this would be a good way to spend it.” He did not need to remind Ron that the faculty could use a bit of a boost, and free pizza and wings usually put people in a good mood even if beer wasn’t included.
“Frank filled me in on some of the lunch room conversation that I missed today. All these rumors of faculty cuts really seem to have him rattled,” Ron observed.
“I don’t agree with his ideas, but I can’t blame the guy for wanting to do something.” He was reminded of a scene in Ken Kesey’s One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest in which McMurphy bets with the other patients on the ward that he can lift a control panel, smash it through the window, and break out of the mental hospital. McMurphy knows that he will be unable to succeed, but he gives it his best effort before admitting defeat. Although he lost the bet, he proved to the patients that they needed to stand up to Nurse Ratched in order to maintain their human dignity.
Schooled in Deception: A Michael Bishop Mystery Page 10