After graduation, some of the faculty and staff met at Christy’s for pizza and beer. Bishop drove over but didn’t intend on staying very long. He knew that Max would be waiting patiently for him to get home.
The place was packed when he got there. Ron Jennings jumped up when he saw him enter and waved him over to his table. While he was greeting everyone, Ron poured him a glass of beer from one of the pitchers on the table.
“Thanks, Ron, but I think I’ll just have a Pepsi.”
“Sure thing.” He got the attention of one of the workers behind the counter, ordered the soft drink for his friend, and continued with the story that he had started to tell.
“So, I’m a hundred miles from here, right, and I stop at this place called Tomaselli’s. I order a large pizza with a few toppings, and when I taste it, I tell the guy ‘This sauce tastes just like Christy’s in Groveland.’ The guy looks at me like I’m nuts, but he goes and tells the owner. Next thing I know, the owner, Tomaselli, comes out and I tell him the same thing. He starts laughing and reaches out to shake my hand. He looks around the place and says, ‘This man knows his pies!’” Everyone at the table started laughing, including Bishop, even though he had heard the story many times before. Clearly, Ron was enjoying himself as he announced, “I was right! Turns out Tomaselli is Luigi’s cousin, and when he opened his place, Luigi gave him the recipe for the sauce.”
Mary Ellen seemed to fit right in with the Holy Trinity crowd. It was much too early to predict where this relationship would go, but if anyone deserved a bit of good fortune in that department, it was Ron.
Frank Wilcox came over and tapped Bishop on the shoulder. When he realized who it was, he got up, and shook hands heartily. “Good to see you, Frank! I’m glad that you were able to attend the graduation.” It was the first time that Frank had been seen since his suspension.
“It’s good to be back. From what I’ve heard, I have you to thank for that. I don’t know exactly how you managed it, but I’m very grateful. I really am.”
Bishop shrugged. “You know better than to believe everything you hear.” He quickly changed the topic. “Sister Annunciata told me that your students did very well on their exams. She was very impressed with the way you had prepared them.”
He beamed proudly. “Thanks … for everything.”
As Bishop turned his attention back to his table of friends, he realized that the topic of conversation had come around to Debbie Bates. He sipped on his drink and listened for a few moments. The consensus of the group seemed to be one of shock that a person that they thought they knew fairly well could have committed such a horrible crime.
He didn’t want to sound as if he were lecturing a group of students, but he felt that he needed to make a point. “One theme that dominates much of the literature I’ve read is that appearances are deceiving, and there’s a good reason for that. Literature is a reflection of the human condition.” He thought of his recent discussion of Hawthorne’s short story, “The Minister’s Black Veil.” Everyone has some secret sin, some darkness within.
“How often do we find ourselves hiding behind a mask? How hard is it to know if someone is truthful or skillfully hiding the truth?” The mood at the table had turned quite somber as each person considered his words. He again thought of Iago in Shakespeare’s Othello. He was constantly referred to as “honest Iago” although he was far from honest in his dealings with others. As a result of his experiences of the last couple of weeks, he thought especially of Jack Slater, Tim Kelleher, Hannah Ward, Billy Sprowl, Clare Mooney, Samantha Graham, Dan Morehouse, Sister Ann. In that group, he included himself, of course. Ironically, only Sister Pat had apparently mastered the ability to brazenly present to the world her true nature. Sister Meany didn’t bother with a mask.
Ron broke the silence at the table. “I know that this is difficult for you. But let me ask one more question I know that we all interested in. “How did you figure out that she had done it?”
He was reluctant to take any credit for his role in this sad affair. “I wasn’t really sure that I had figured it out until she admitted what she had done.” He thought back to that afternoon in her apartment as Debbie sat on the floor in front of the cracked screen of her television, rocking back and forth, crying. After she was arraigned on murder charges, she was sent to a psychiatric hospital for evaluation.
“I feel sorry for that young woman. I think that she is dealing with a lot of issues about which we know very little. Hopefully, she can get the treatment she needs.” He still wasn’t sure that Debbie’s action had been the result of a jealous rage over Ed’s interest in Samantha. Lieutenant Hodge had told him that his men found an envelope stuffed with hundred dollar bills taped to the bottom of the lid of the toilet in her apartment. Most of the $5,000 that Dan had given Ed was in it minus the money that she had used to buy her new television. Perhaps they had argued over money. It wouldn’t have been the first time that greed had led to death.
He finished his Pepsi and got up to leave. “Listen, this should be a time to celebrate, not to dwell on the past. I’ve got to get home. Keep in touch over the summer. I’m already looking forward to next school year.”
***
A week later, Bishop took Max to the vet. He had called several veterinarians before he found the one that Debbie had used for her dog. The vet turned out to be one of Bishop’s former students, George Gibbons. Gibb, as his friends called him, had graduated in the early ‘70s, and Bishop hadn’t seen him since. He didn’t remember him all that well other than that he was a very good wrestler but not much of a student.
When he brought Max into the office, the receptionist, a tall woman with long red hair, asked him to fill out some forms. Apparently, Debbie hadn’t taken Max for a visit in the last few years despite reminders to do so. Since there was no one else in the waiting room, she came around to give Max a little attention.
After giving Max a good pat and a little treat, she introduced herself to Bishop.
“Mr. Bishop, my name is Heather. Nice to meet you,” she said as she reached out to shake his hand. “Are you Max’s new owner?”
“I’m taking care of Max for now while Debbie is away.” Bishop assumed that Heather had read about Debbie in the papers, but he wasn’t about to get into any of that now.
“I noticed that Debbie has an outstanding balance of $89 on her account,” Heather announced delicately.
“Please add that to my bill,” said Bishop as he sat down in one of the hard plastic chairs in the waiting area. Max settled down next to Bishop until the door to the examining room opened at which point he ran up to the vet with his leash sliding behind him on the tile floor.
Dr. Gibbons bent down to greet his patient and then stood up to greet the owner. “Mr. Bishop! What a surprise!” He shook hands with his former teacher. “You haven’t changed much at all. Are you still at Trinity?”
“Yes, I am. Forty-five years and counting.”
“That’s remarkable. Good for you.”
Bishop appreciated the compliment about looking the same although he knew that Gibb was being more polite than truthful. On the other hand, Gibb had changed so much that he might not have known who he was if he had met him on the street. Of course, he wasn’t eighteen any longer. He must have been in his mid-fifties now. The well-conditioned body that had made him a success on the mats had become much thicker especially around the middle. His neatly trimmed goatee, which was mostly gray, was the only hair on his shaved head.
He removed Max’s leash, gently picked him up, and placed him on the examining table. A folder with the dog’s medical history was open on the doctor’s desk. He talked to Max in a reassuring voice as he conducted his examination. Bishop stood by quietly. He had been pleasantly surprised to learn that Gibb had become a veterinarian. If memory served, and he realized that that was more in question these days, Gibb had been a rather mediocre student. That he had gone on to obtain not only a college degree but also his license to practice
veterinary medicine merely illustrated that some students matured later than others.
While he examined Max, he said to Bishop, “You know, I have you to thank for becoming a veterinarian.”
Bishop gave him a puzzled look. “Why do you say that?”
“I remember half way through my senior year, you took me aside and told me that if I didn’t start getting serious about my studies, I’d look back someday and regret the opportunities that I’d missed. You said that it would be a shame if I wasted my potential.”
Bishop had no recollection of that conversation whatsoever.
Gibb continued, “I was steamed at you at the time for saying something like that to me, but then I realized that you were right. I really started working hard, and never let myself become complacent again.”
“Well, I probably didn’t have very much to do with your success, but I appreciate your saying that.”
After completing his exam, he put Max on the floor, and reached for the folder on his desk.
“How does everything look, Doc?”
“He appears to be in good shape for a dog his age.”
“How old is he?”
“It’s difficult to know for certain since the previous owner didn’t get the dog as a pup, but my guess is that Max is at least ten.”
“Really?”
“Yup.” He glanced again at some papers in the folder. “There are a couple of areas of concern.”
“Go on.”
“He exhibited some slight discomfort when I pressed into his stomach. I’d like to take some x-rays and have some blood work done. It’s probably nothing to worry about, but I’d rather not take chances. To my knowledge, he hasn’t been seen by a vet in several years, and he’s overdue for some booster shots.”
“Okay. What do you want to do first?”
“We can do the x-rays, the blood work, and the rabies and distemper shots today. Bring him back in a few weeks, and we can take care of the other shots. I’d also like you to schedule a teeth cleaning for Max. He does have one tooth that should be pulled, and we can take care of that then.”
“Anything else?”
“I don’t see any fleas or ticks. Be sure you keep up with his treatments.”
Bishop shook his head. “I just took over care of Max a few weeks ago. I’m afraid I don’t know anything about those treatments.”
“No problem. I’ll have Heather show you what you need and how to use it. While you’re doing that, I’ll get started on Max.”
“Thanks for everything, Gibb,” said Bishop as he shook hands and headed back out to the receptionist’s desk.
“My pleasure. Great to see you again.”
***
A couple of weeks later, Bishop was driving home. Max was curled up on the passenger’s front seat, still recovering from his dental procedure. X-rays did not reveal any abnormalities with his stomach, but Gibb did have some disturbing news. At some point in the past, Max had suffered from three broken ribs that had healed on their own. Bishop didn’t speculate on how the dog might have suffered those injuries and neither did the vet.
As he drove by, he noticed that the huge sign for Morehouse Motors had been replaced with one for Cahill Motors. Rumor had it that to avoid bankruptcy, Dan was forced to take a lowball offer from Cahill who already owned several other dealerships locally. Dan was now working as a salesman at Cahill Motors.
Ron informed Bishop that the board of trustees accepted Dan’s letter of resignation. Bishop doubted that anyone on the board other than Sister Ann knew the reason for his resignation. It didn’t really matter. What was important was that the board voted to rescind the draconian measures that they had put in place when they thought that the school was on the brink of financial collapse.
Ron also mentioned that Sister Ann and Sister Pat, who had fully recovered from her gallbladder attack, were in San Diego attending a weeklong conference. They were staying at the luxurious Hotel del Coronado, which suggested to Bishop that they would probably spend an hour or so each day at the conference and the majority of their time relaxing in the sun, shopping, and eating at expensive restaurants. The principal, whose devious and unethical behavior should have resulted in her dismissal, had managed to hold onto her position for another year. So had Bishop.
It had been a difficult year in many ways, starting with the discovery of Al Zappala’s body in September. At that time, he could not have imagined that he would find himself in the middle of another murder investigation before the end of the school year. Despite all of that, his classroom experiences continued to be a source of comfort and renewal. He was already counting the days until classes resumed in September.
***
As the car pulled into the driveway, Max perked up. Bishop attached the leash to his collar, and they walked down to pick up the mail. Among the envelopes was one from Jack Slater that Bishop knew would contain a check for $25. It would take several more months, but there was no question that Jack would repay the loan.
Once inside, he made sure that Max had plenty of water in his bowl. After running around for a moment, Max was tuckered again and settled into his bed for another nap. It was too nice a day for Bishop to stay inside. The sky was a deep blue, and the sun was strong, but a northerly breeze made it feel comfortable. He went to do some weeding in the rose garden. The Mister Lincoln roses with their deep red color and rich fragrance were Grace’s favorite. He decided that he and Max would bring a bouquet of Mister Lincolns to the cemetery after lunch. There was a lot that he wanted to tell her.
###
I hope that you have enjoyed this book. Please take a moment to leave a review on Amazon. You might also enjoy my first novel, Outline for Murder: A Michael Bishop Mystery.
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About the Author
Anthony J. Pucci taught English for over forty years so we know that he doesn’t scare easily. After retiring, someone suggested that he write a book. Outline for Murder: A Michael Bishop Mystery published in 2015 was the result.
In addition to writing 500 words a day, he enjoys reading (mysteries, of course), spending time on the New England coast, and following sports, the stock market, and politics.
A native of Massachusetts, he resides with his wife in a small town in upstate New York.
Schooled in Deception: A Michael Bishop Mystery Page 24