“I had to make some excuse for the benefit of the other guys. This is just between you and me.”
“Okay,” said Tim with some hesitation.
“I’m not about to get you in trouble for going down there. I already have a pretty good idea of what’s been going on, so I need you to be absolutely truthful with me.” As he spoke, Tim wiped his sweaty palms on his uniform trousers. “Did you ever run into Mr. Cooper when you and Hannah were in that storage room?”
Tim did not respond right away. After weighing his options, he decided to trust his teacher. “Yes, I did.”
Bishop glanced at the wall clock. “We only have a few minutes before the homeroom bell. Tell me what happened.”
Tim looked at the clock as well. The minute hand seemed stuck in place. If only the bell would ring, he would have an excuse to leave. Realizing that that would only postpone the inevitable, he was, in an odd way, relieved that he could tell the story.
“The truth is that Hannah and I had been getting to school early and meeting down in that storage room beneath the stage. About a week ago, Mr. Cooper caught us in the act, so to speak.” He flushed with embarrassment as he spoke; however, Bishop’s outward demeanor remained unchanged as he listened to Tim’s account.
“As he came down the ladder, we scrambled to get ourselves together. We didn’t even know who he was until he told us. He asked us our names and threatened to report us to the principal unless we gave him some money.”
“What happened next?”
“Hannah didn’t have any money on her, but I had a twenty, so I gave that to him.”
“Are you sure that he demanded the money for his silence, or did you offer to buy his silence? Both of you obviously had a lot to lose if he reported you.” Bishop found the fact that someone had silenced Cooper permanently only days later very troubling.
“He asked us for money. I swear!” he said more forcefully.
“I believe you, Tim. Go on.” Bishop knew that Hannah had not been completely truthful when he had spoken with her the day before. He also understood exactly why she would have been reluctant to say more than she did.
“He told us that if he ever caught us down there again, it would cost us a lot more than twenty bucks.”
“Did you ever think of reporting him to the principal?” asked Bishop.
“For what?”
“Demanding money for his silence? That’s extortion,” he explained.
“How could we turn him in without getting in trouble ourselves?” Tim asked just as the bell for homeroom rang.
Bishop thanked the young man for his honesty, promised him that what he had shared with him would remain confidential, and watched him as he left the room. Was it possible that Tim feared that the twenty dollars would not be enough to prevent Cooper from reporting them anyway? Could that fear have prompted him to silence him permanently? Bishop had gotten some answers from Tim, but those answers had only led to more troubling questions. Then his thoughts turned to Cooper, the man whose murder he so desperately wanted to solve. What kind of man would extort money from those young people? What else might he have done to seal his own fate?
***
The last announcement of the morning was vintage Sister Ann. “This is a reminder to all students attending the senior prom this evening. All students will be thoroughly screened before entering the facility. Anyone found in violation of the school’s substance abuse policy will be denied entrance. Your parents will be notified to take you home.” The students in his homeroom had no reaction to her comment as they were accustomed to such blunt warnings. Bishop, however, inwardly cringed regardless of the number of times he had heard similar announcements. In the carrot vs. the stick debate, the principal clearly preferred the stick as if threats alone would change their behavior. It was his view that the vast majority of students knew better than to spoil their own once-in-a-lifetime senior prom by making poor choices. He recognized that some would partake in underage drinking or other illegal activities, but this would occur at parties later that night or that weekend. The sad fact was that some parents in this permissive society not only condoned, but in some cases actually facilitated such behavior.
Just a moment after morning announcements ended, Charlie Mitchell walked in. It seemed to Bishop that Charlie had spent more time in his homeroom during the past week than he had in his own. When Charlie got to the front of the room, Bishop noticed that several of the boys were whispering to each other and trying to contain their laughter. The veteran teacher simply cleared his throat in an especially forceful manner. When the boys looked up, he gave them a look that said, “Settle down!” With message received, they opened their books.
As if to apologize for their behavior, Bishop whispered to his colleague, “Friday.”
“Don’t I know it! I’ve been working on this new exam all week, and it’s finally done. Will you take a look at it?” He handed over a manila folder that looked identical to the one that was missing.
“I’d be glad to,” replied the department chairman. Left unspoken was his hope that Mitchell had not decided to vent his frustration at having to write a new exam by making it impossibly difficult.
“By the way,” Charlie added in a confidential tone, “my little kleptomaniac struck again.”
Bishop was only mildly surprised. Charlie didn’t seem to connect constantly leaving his room unattended with these thefts. “What’s missing this time?”
“My nameplate,” he said with some exasperation in his voice. “It wasn’t on my desk when I came in this morning. I could understand pilfering that exam, but why would anyone take a nameplate for goodness sakes?”
“For the same reason that they took your phone cord,” I imagine.
“Good point,” replied Charlie. “When I find the culprit, there will be hell to pay.”
As the homeroom period ended, Bishop wished everyone a good weekend and dismissed the group. He asked Greg Ramsey, one of the boys that he had to settle down, if he could have a word with him. Bishop waited until the others had left the room.
“Greg, would you mind telling me what was going on back there?”
“Nothing was going on,” he said somewhat defensively.
“Now, Greg,” said Bishop, “I believe that you are an honest person. You wouldn’t want me to begin to doubt that, would you?”
“No, sir.” He wondered why this old man had picked him to question and not one of the others.
“Then let me ask one more time. Does this have anything to do with Mr. Mitchell’s nameplate by any chance?” Bishop had a strong feeling that the appearance of Mitchell in the room and the reaction of the boys were connected. He had a group of students waiting to come into class, so he needed to move this discussion along.
Had Bishop pulled a quarter from behind his ear, Greg could not have been more surprised. How had he known? The truth was Greg’s only option. “We didn’t put it there,” he said.
“Where?” asked Bishop calmly.
“In the men’s room. Someone put it on the grate in one of the urinals.”
It took great power of will for Bishop to control his desire to burst out laughing. “Do you know who did that?”
“No, sir, I don’t,” with a tone of finality that suggested that he really did not know.
Bishop thanked Greg for his honesty, gave him a pass in case he was late for his first class, and let his own class get settled. He asked them to work quietly for a few moments. After taking attendance, he sent off a quick email to Charlie alerting him to the whereabouts of his nameplate. As he typed, he had to suppress thoughts of taking aim at “Mr. Charles Mitchell.”
***
The other day, his 9th graders had expressed their anxiety regarding final exams; today, the 11th graders articulated a different concern. When Bishop began the class by asking if there were any questions, Mary Flanagan’s hand shot up into the air. “Why is so much of the literature we’ve read so depressing?” Several others indicated that
they had the same question.
He always welcomed questions that gave him the opportunity to engage his students in spirited discussion. “That’s an excellent question, Mary. Give me an example of what you have in mind.”
Without any hesitation, she offered an example. “Well, in A Separate Peace, why did Finny have to die?” Students often struggled to understand the ending of that novel by John Knowles. Although they had spent time discussing it earlier in the year, this was the purpose of review. It also gave him an opportunity to address the larger question that Mary had raised.
“I know that you don’t have your copies of that book with you, but that’s all right. When you really own a book, you shouldn’t need to look something up in order to make a point. You won’t have any of your books with you when you take the exam, right?” A number of students shook their heads in agreement although every single one of them undoubtedly wished that they could do just that. “Does anyone remember what Gene himself said about Finny’s death?” He waited a moment for the question to sink in.
Andrea partially raised her hand. The pained expression on her face indicated that she felt that her answer was probably wrong. In fact, she prefaced her answer by saying, “This is probably wrong.” He had always tried to discourage his students from making that remark. “What is so wrong about being wrong?” he often asked. He would explain that making a mistake was a very good way to learn. In addition, Bishop knew that almost anything that a student might say was unlikely to be so far afield that he could not find something of value in it to further the discussion. After her self-deprecating preface, Mary continued. “Didn’t Gene imply … sort of anyway … that it was only through his acceptance of his role in Finny’s death that he was able to … you know … move on with his own life?” She needn’t have worried that anyone would dismiss or ridicule her response, not that Bishop would have allowed that to happen under any circumstances. Quite the opposite was true as he noticed several students pick up their pens and jot down Mary’s comment in their notebooks.
“Absolutely right, Mary! Once Gene is able to accept the evil in himself, which only occurs after Finny’s death, once he makes his own ‘separate peace’ with that, if you will, he is able to face the world beyond the school where the events occurred.”
Wanting to contribute something to the discussion, Don raised his hand to add, “The school was Devon Prep.”
“That’s right,” said Bishop who quickly brought the focus back to Mary’s original comment. “We might conclude, then, that John Knowles, puts the emphasis at the end of the novel on Gene’s growth rather than on Finny’s death.”
“The sadness is still there,” insisted Mary.
“Yes, there’s sadness, but there is also a sense of hope,’ added Bishop. “To get back to Mary’s initial question, it seems true that many of the works that we’ve studied have an element of sadness. However, out of that sadness an important lesson about life emerges that could not have been delivered as effectively in any other way. And, I think that it connects the literature to real life, where, as we know, not every situation ends happily ever after.”
The students took a moment to consider what he had just said. Zack was furiously flipping through his notes. When he found what he was looking for, he raised his hand. “I think I’ve found one story that is just plain depressing … ‘The Minister’s Black Veil’ by Nathaniel Hawthorne.” As he announced his choice, Jane quickly voiced her approval. “Oh, God!” she said. “I think I had nightmares for a week after reading that story.” A few students indicated their agreement.
“There’s no doubt that Hawthorne’s work is on the dark side,” Bishop responded, “but remember that the subtitle of the story is ‘A Parable.’ What does that mean, Phil?” Bishop had a habit of asking a question and then indicating the name of the student that he wanted to hear from. It sometimes led to interesting exchanges.
When Phil heard his name called, he jumped to attention. He flushed as he realized that everyone was waiting for him to give the answer. The problem was that he didn’t know what the question was and everyone else did.
“What?” asked a bewildered Phil. Other students were waving their hands in the air, hoping to get Bishop to forget Phil and get the answer from one of them.
“What ‘what’?” replied his teacher.
“What was the question?” Phil said as he squirmed in his seat.
“I’ve already asked the question. I was hoping for an answer.”
“Would you please repeat the question?”
“I’m not even sure that I remember the question at this point,” Bishop was clearly teasing Phil and subtly making the point that he needed to avoid daydreaming in class. “I believe that I asked for the definition of a parable.”
“Oh,” said the young man, relieved that he knew the answer. “A parable is a story used to teach a moral or a lesson.”
“Exactly!” Bishop not only had the answer he wanted; he also had the undivided attention of the entire class for the remainder of the period.
Mary raised her hand again. Reference to this story validated her point. “Hawthorne seems to be saying that every person lives behind a mask. Isn’t that depressing?”
Bishop spent the next few moments helping the class arrive at the following summary: The story centers on the actions of a Reverend Hooper who one day appears before his congregation wearing a gossamer black veil covering his face. The townspeople are troubled by his sermon on “secret sin” and the part of ourselves that we hide from the world. Rather than a one-day gimmick, the veil becomes a permanent part of the minister. The townspeople speculate on the nature of the sin that he hides from the world. Even at the hour of his death, he refuses to lift the veil. Having established the summary, Bishop quoted from memory Hooper’s dying words: ‘“I look around me, and, lo! on every visage a Black Veil!’ What does that mean?”
Phil Perry blurted out his answer. “He’s hallucinating! He’s the only one wearing the veil.” That evoked a few laughs from his classmates.
Mary looked directly at Phil as she explained, “He’s not hallucinating. That’s the way he really feels, and that’s just sad if you ask me.”
He looked around the room and called on someone who had not yet contributed to the discussion. “What do you think, Alex?”
Alex thought for a moment before answering. “I remember you telling us when we first read it that Hawthorne based the story on a real person. That’s pretty bizarre if you ask me,” he said.
“Do you mean that it’s bizarre that Hawthorne based his story on a real person?” Bishop asked, knowing that that was not what he meant but hoping to make a point about the need for precise communication.
“No, the fact that someone actually lived his life that way is what’s bizarre.”
“Granted, none of us would go through life wearing a literal veil, but don’t we all wear metaphorical veils?” As if proving his point, as he looked around the room, he noticed that few students were making direct eye contact with him. “Aren’t there some aspects of our lives that we share with few, if any, others? You can say that Reverend Hooper’s life was sad or depressing or that his behavior was bizarre; however, the point of the story, the lesson or parable, if you will, is that we are all sinners in some way. Perhaps Hawthorne’s story reminds us of the need for compassion, tolerance, and understanding of others. My problem with Hooper, and with Hawthorne for that matter, is not that he makes us acknowledge the secret sin in all men, but rather the fact that that is all he sees.” He paused for a moment to let that idea sink in before moving on to another topic for review.
After class, Bishop found himself drawn back to Hawthorne’s story. Wasn’t the investigation into the death of Ed Cooper an attempt to lift the black veil from the face of the murderer? Who had committed that secret sin? Was it Jack Slater who had expressed his dislike for Ed from the start and apparently was having some money problems? Was it Ryan Baxter who had not been working for UPS a
t the time of the murder as they had previously thought? Why had Ryan and Amy broken up? What about Tim Kelleher? Supposedly, he had been forced to buy Ed’s silence after being caught with Hannah in the storage room. Might he have lashed out at Ed when Ed demanded more money or threatened to report his behavior? Could Debbie Bates have made up the story of hearing another man’s voice in the storage room to hide her own involvement in her boyfriend’s death? Who owned the car with the numbers on it that Elwin Crimins claims to have seen on Newbury Street? Had he really seen anything significant? Might the murderer be someone else who walked the halls of Holy Trinity with a look of apparent innocence? Whoever it was had been well schooled in the art of deception. Whoever it was, Bishop was determined to lift that mask and expose the truth.
Chapter Eighteen
After yesterday’s brouhaha at lunch, Bishop was looking forward to spending a few relaxing minutes with his colleagues. If the list that Terry had seen on Sister Ann’s desk was what he thought it was, this would be one of the last days that he would have his peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the faculty lunchroom. Of course, the list might not have anything to do with those about to be let go. It might simply be a list of teachers that she needed to see about a particular student. Using the approach that ninety percent of the things people worry about never happen, he forced thoughts of the end of his teaching career out of his mind. He had other, more pressing concerns.
As he walked past the main office, he noticed that two girls were in an animated conversation with Sister Pat. From what he heard, he quickly pieced together that the girls were attempting to sign out of school for the remainder of the day. Given the facts that it had stopped raining, it was a Friday, and they were seniors, it wasn’t surprising that they would try to skip out. It was also the night of the senior prom, and these girls probably had a lot to do to get ready for the biggest social event of the year. Sister Pat was in their faces as she screamed, “You’re not going anywhere but back to class, and if I hear another word out of either of you, you won’t be going to the prom either.” With that, Sister Meany succeeded in making both girls to cry. Bishop was about to get into the fray. What did he have to lose? He was at the top of the list for a pink slip anyway.
Schooled in Deception: A Michael Bishop Mystery Page 15