“Nice party, Bishop,” said Sister Pat sarcastically as she waddled out of the room.
“Don’t listen to her,” Terry said in an attempt to lift his spirits.
“Other than Sister Ann, who does?” he asked with a broad grin on his face.
***
As he headed off to class, he stopped in the kitchen to thank Lee for her cooperation and to tell her that he had some people lined up to make sure that the second lunch went smoothly.
“I heard that ruckus over here,” she announced in a tone of disapproval. “You don’t expect that kind of behavior from the teachers.”
She was right, of course. If students were involved in a fight, there were consequences. How could teachers not face consequences for similar behavior? He knew that Frank had been quite upset over the prospect of losing his job with his talk of a teachers’ strike. Now, he had given the administration more ammunition to silence one of their most vocal critics. In addition to losing his job, Bishop feared that Frank might be facing an assault charge.
As if Frank’s behavior wasn’t troubling enough, he also wondered why he hadn’t seen Jack in the lunchroom. Ordinarily, the lure of pizza and wings would have been too much for him to resist. Perhaps he was busy in another part of the building. Then he remembered what Luigi had said about Jack and his purchase of lottery tickets. Why had he suddenly stopped playing around the time of Ed’s death? And what about Debbie? Would Lee and the administrators allow her to come back to work tomorrow? And why had she missed work without calling in the first place?
After school, he had an important phone call to make. He had also arranged for Hannah Ward to come to his room at the end of the day. And he had promised Debbie that he would stop by her place on his way home. He definitely wanted to know whatever it was that she had decided to tell him. For now, however, he would put all of that aside and concentrate on what really mattered, the students in his afternoon classes.
Chapter Fifteen
A couple of productive afternoon classes fortified him for what he knew would follow. As the last of his students left his classroom, Ron Jennings walked in. Bishop immediately sensed that the news would not be good.
“How is Frank doing?”
“That’s what I came up to tell you,” said Ron, somewhat breathless from walking up the stairs. “They suspended him without pay for the rest of the school year.” His disappointment was evident as he looked down at his shoes.
Just then, there was a knock at his open door. It was Hannah Ward. She had the note that he had sent to her in her hand. “Hannah, would you give us just a minute, please?” asked Bishop.
“Is it all right if I go to my locker and pack up my stuff?”
“That would be fine. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
“What’s that about?” Ron inquired after Hannah left.
“Nothing really. I just need to ask her a few questions.” There was little point in informing him of her trysts with Tim just yet.
“Who’s going to sub for him for the next few weeks? It’s not that easy to find a qualified history teacher at this time of the year.”
“They’ve asked Sister Annunciata to cover for him.” She had retired a few years earlier after a long career at Holy Trinity. In Bishop’s view she was a shining example of what a Sister of the Holy Rosary should be. She was a dedicated and excellent teacher as well as a kind and compassionate person.
“How did Frank take his suspension?”
“I think he realized that if he didn’t accept their terms, he would have been fired on the spot. As you know, the way our contracts are written, the administration can fire anyone at any time for any reason and for no reason. He also has to apologize to Dan.”
“How’s Dan doing?” Bishop kept an eye on the door in anticipation of Hannah’s return.
“He’s shaken up, and he’s going have a shiner, but basically he’s fine. Frank really clocked him,” said Ron as he made a fist with his right hand and hit his open left hand several times.
“I’m glad you were there to grab him before he could do more harm. Did Frank tell you why he did it?” asked a curious Bishop.
“Apparently, Dan was talking about job cuts as if they were inevitable since he hadn’t been able to convince any of the other board members to add to his own donation of 25K. Dan’s been working hard to help us get out of this mess. I guess Frank needed someone to blame.”
At that point, Hannah knocked on the door once again. Bishop asked her to come in. As Ron left, he greeted the senior girl. “Hey, Hannah Banana, how are you doing?”
“I’m fine, thanks,” she said with a smile on her face. It must not have been the first time that Ron had greeted her that way. Bishop got up from behind his desk and arranged two student desks so that they faced each other. As he sat at one of the desks, he invited Hannah to sit at the other. She dropped her backpack and her purse next to her seat. The big smile that she had given Ron had been replaced with a look of nervous tension.
Bishop suddenly realized that this was more awkward than he had anticipated. He should have asked Sarah to talk with her again, but it was too late for that now. “The last time you were in this room, you were a freshman,” he said with a laugh. She looked around the room as that reality sank in. Although the room hadn’t changed much in those few years, she certainly had. The frightened and shy little girl who traveled in a pack with other frightened and shy little girls had become a mature and self-confident young woman with the exception of the present moment as the reason for her summons to this room remained unclear. She looked back at him and waited.
“What are your plans for next year?”
“I’ve been accepted in the pre-med program at Northwestern,” she said proudly.
“Congratulations! I’m sure that you will do well.”
“Mr. Bishop, you didn’t send for me just to ask about my college plans, did you?” So much for his attempt to ease into the heart of the matter. He cleared his throat, folded his hands, rested them on the edge of the desk, and leaned forward.
“You are quite right, of course. There is something very important that I want to discuss with you.” He could see the muscles in her jaw clench as he spoke. “First, let me assure you that you are not in any trouble whatsoever.” That did little to abate the look of concern on her face. “It has come to my attention, and I am not at liberty to say how, that you frequented the storage area beneath the stage where Mr. Cooper was found dead, and....”
Before he could continue, she burst out in disbelief, “You don’t think that I had anything to do with that, do you?”
Since he had left the door open intentionally, he gestured for her to lower her voice. “No, no. Of course not!” How could he explain to her that he had taken it upon himself to unravel the mystery of the murder of a man whom he barely knew? He wasn’t sure that he could fully explain that even to himself. “Believe me, Hannah, I don’t mean to pry into your personal business, but someone out there has literally gotten away with murder at this point. My only interest is in the possibility that you might have seen or heard something that would help identify that person. Can you think of anything … anything at all, no matter how seemingly insignificant?”
Hannah fidgeted with her necklace and shifted in her seat. “But we weren’t even there that day!” she said defensively. Regardless of what he had said about his lack of interest in her personal life, she wondered exactly what he knew about her and Tim.
“Were you ever there when Mr. Cooper was there?”
She hesitated and then answered weakly, “No.”
The veteran teacher knew that she was lying, but it would serve no purpose to challenge her at this point. He decided to keep probing. “Did you ever see anyone or hear anyone on any of those occasions?”
Bishop’s last question triggered a memory. “I used to drop my stuff off in the locker room before going to the stage. It was very early in the morning so I didn’t expect anyone to be there, but I did se
e someone there several times.”
Thinking that this might be the break he was looking for, he edged forward. “Whom did you see, Hannah?”
“Mr. Slater.”
***
Was this the breakthrough evidence that he had been seeking? It was obvious that Jack disapproved of the new employee, but was that alone a motive for murder? Jack also displayed a temper of late. Could he have caused Ed to fall from the ladder without intending to kill him? It reminded Bishop of a key scene in A Separate Peace by John Knowles. The main character, Gene, jounces a tree limb causing his classmate, Finny, to fall. Although Finny does not die from that fall, Gene struggles to understand what made him jounce the limb. On the other hand, it was perfectly reasonable for Jack to be in the building at that early hour.
“Did you ever see anyone else?”
“No,” said Hannah conclusively, “no one else.”
Bishop thanked her for her time, asked her not to tell Tim of their conversation even though he knew that she was likely to do just that, and wished her well at Northwestern. As she left the room, he put the desks back in order, and closed the door so that he could make a phone call.
Fortunately, Lieutenant Hodge was in his office and was able to take the call.
“I was just about to give you a call myself,” said Hodge. “We’ve been able to establish a few facts.” Bishop listened attentively as Hodge shared what his team of investigators had learned. “We contacted Cooper’s mother in Ohio and she confirmed that Amy Davis is Ed’s half sister. She was disappointed but not surprised that Amy did not attend Ed’s funeral which was this morning.”
Bishop had a feeling that Amy had been telling the truth about her relationship with Ed and the mother. “Were you able to verify Ryan Baxter’s employment?”
“Yes and no.”
“How so?” asked a confused Bishop.
“He did work for UPS, but he was let go last week.”
“That means that he doesn’t have an alibi for his whereabouts at the time of the murder.”
“That’s correct,” Hodge replied in a cautionary tone, “but he doesn’t appear to have a motive.” He added, “I’m also concerned that Amy lied about Ryan’s work. She must have known that we would find out the truth sooner or later.”
“She might have been telling the truth,” offered Bishop. He went on to explain his fortuitous meeting with Lori, the girl who had been waiting in her car at Amy’s place the day before. He told Hodge of the text that Lori received from Amy. “If Amy broke up with Ryan because of his ‘lies’, she might not have known that he had lost his job when she spoke with us.”
“That’s true,” Hodge admitted. “Ryan may not be our man, but I definitely want to talk with him.”
“Along the same lines, Jack Slater may not be our man either, but I’d like to ask him a few questions as well. Apparently, he was seen in the building earlier than normal although not on the day of the murder. I also heard that he might have been having some money problems recently although I don’t know that there’s a connection to Ed.”
“It’s worth a try,” he said. “At this point, that’s about all that we can do.”
“Before I let you go, let me ask you one more question. Has Hollins had a chance to canvas the neighbors on Newbury Street?” Bishop’s theory was that the killer might have parked his vehicle on that street, cut through the wooded lot, and entered the building through the unlocked back door. Someone might have noticed an unfamiliar car parked in that residential area. If Ryan Baxter was involved, someone might have heard his motorcycle.
“I’m afraid Hollins struck out on that one,” he said with a note of disappointment. The baseball analogy resonated with Bishop. How many strikes had he decided to give himself? Ten? Hodge went on to explain that the only person who saw or heard anything that morning was a man in his nineties who claimed he saw a car with numbers on it parked in front of his house.
“Well, that’s sounds promising. Did he get the numbers?”
“That’s the problem. The guy unfortunately suffers from dementia. Every vehicle has a license plate with numbers on it. I don’t think that he can help us.”
“What’s his name and street number?” Bishop asked, unwilling to give up on even a remote chance that the old man might know more than he realizes.
Hodge shuffled some papers. “His name is Elwin Crimins, and he lives at 224 Newbury.”
After ending the call, Bishop packed up his belongings, left the mostly deserted building, and drove over to the home of Debbie Bates. There was something that she wanted to tell him, and he was more than curious to find out what it was.
***
On his way to Debbie’s place, he stopped at Siracusa’s Bakery where he treated himself to some rich Italian pastries on a regular basis. Grace was of Italian descent, and her Nana Ippolito had shared with her many of the family recipes. Desserts were her specialty, and Bishop easily developed a weakness for them. He could have lingered in the bakery with its aroma of freshly baked bread, but he didn’t have time. Luckily, there was still a good selection from which to choose. He purchased a half dozen pasta ciotti, three filled with vanilla cream and three with chocolate. The old woman behind the counter dusted them with powdered sugar and carefully placed them in a box. She secured the box with string from a spool mounted high above the counter.
He pulled into Debbie’s driveway, parked behind her Ford Bronco, and walked up to her front door with the pastry box in hand. She opened the door before he had a chance to knock. “I heard you pull into the driveway,” she explained. Her dog, Max, was barking and jumping and wagging his short tail. “Max, stop that!” she shouted to no avail. She smiled at Bishop. “He’ll calm down in a minute. Come on in.”
Bishop handed her the box from the bakery. “These are for you. I hope that you’ll like them. You should keep them in the fridge.”
“Thanks, Mike. Would you like some coffee?”
“Tea, if you’ve got it.” Bishop couldn’t remember the last time that he had had a cup of coffee.
“Sure. No problem. Why don’t you sit down in the living room. I’ll just be a second.”
Bishop sat in one of the oversized chairs, and after darting around a bit, Max decided to check on Debbie in the kitchen. The shabbiness of her furnishings saddened him, but it was evident that this was the most she could afford. She definitely could not afford to lose her job at Trinity. He started paying attention to the television. Dr. Phil was talking with a well-dressed, handsome man in his twenties. Apparently, the man in question was living a lie in refusing to accept the fact that he was an alcoholic. Dr. Phil was trying to explain to this man that he was not only hurting himself by refusing to admit the problem, he was also hurting his family and friends. By the end of the program, Bishop assumed, this man would have an epiphany in which he confronts his inner demons and agrees to get the help that he needs to put his life back together. How wonderful it would be, thought the veteran teacher, if all of our problems could be solved within the hour.
Debbie emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray with two cups and several of the pastries. Max danced around her in anticipation of getting something to eat. She placed the tray on the coffee table, picked up the remote, and cut off Dr. Phil mid-sentence. “These pastries look delicious,” she said as she settled in on the sofa. “What are they?”
Bishop explained as he stirred some sugar into his tea and picked up one of the pastries and a napkin. They spent the next few minutes in small talk as they savored the rich Italian dessert. Realizing that he wasn’t going to be given even a crumb, Max stretched out on the carpet near Debbie’s feet. She was worried about how long her Bronco was going to last. It had been giving her trouble lately, and the estimated repair costs were more than the vehicle was worth. Bishop suggested that she look for a used vehicle at Morehouse Motors. “The owner is on the Holy Trinity Board of Trustees, and he might be able to give you a break,” he added. She went into the kitchen to get mo
re coffee for herself and to get more hot water for him.
He wondered what it was that Debbie wanted to tell him. Did it have to do with her relationship with Ed? He knew that she had not been entirely truthful when they had talked on Monday. At that time, Ed’s death was considered an accident. Now, everyone knew differently. Did she have some idea of who might have wanted to kill her friend? Might she be involved in some way? If she had done it herself, it was highly unlikely that that was what she wanted to tell him. He decided that it was time to get some answers.
“I was really worried about you these last few days,” he said in a more serious tone as he held his second cup of hot tea in both hands.
“I guess I should have called, but I just needed some time to deal with Ed’s death. And I wasn’t sure that I wanted to go back there anyway after Sister Pat called Ed a loser right to my face. That woman is a monster.”
Bishop could not disagree. “I’m glad that you’ve decided to give it another try. They were just about ready to write you off,” he said as he placed the cup back on the tray.
“I was just about ready to write them off too,” she said with a laugh. “After the way I was treated, I figured I’d find another job and them tell them that I quit.” A look of surprise swept over Bishop’s face. He had assumed that she had left town for a few days, but that wasn’t the case. He waited for her to continue.
“I must have been to over a dozen places, and the only offer I got was at a convenience store. They were looking for someone for the all-night shift. It was minimum wage, and most of the time, they said that I’d be in the store alone.” She reached down to pat the dog. “I didn’t want any part of that, did I?” She seemed to be talking to Max at that point.
Schooled in Deception: A Michael Bishop Mystery Page 13