The P.I. Contest

by C. J. Carmichael

  THE CAB ROUNDED a corner and Bishop High School came into view. “This is it,” Jay told the driver. “You can stop at the corner.”

  One of the copilots he flew with—correction, had flown with—had a brother, Bob St. Clair, who taught physical education and coached at the high school level. Jay realized he was clutching at straws, but he was hoping that Bob might be able to tell him if Gary Gifford was teaching in the public school system, too.

  There were probably smarter ways of trying to track a teacher. Undoubtedly Kate knew all the right databases and Internet searches to use. But he didn’t and he had his fingers crossed that Bob St. James would steer him in the right direction.

  He paid his fare, then stepped onto a newly shoveled sidewalk. It was ten in the morning and the school grounds were quiet. Undoubtedly all the students were inside attending classes. Jay’s mood lightened as he followed the paved path to the front doors of the three-story brick building.

  When he was a kid, school had been a refuge for him, and he’d been mostly happy there. Because his mother had moved them frequently, he’d often had to deal with being the “new kid” and he’d learned how to make friends quickly. Being athletic hadn’t hurt. Joining teams was a great way to belong, which was why he’d been so keen for Eric to play basketball.

  Jay reported at the school reception and was told that he could find Coach Bob at the gym.

  This was familiar territory to Jay. The hardwood floors and basketball hoops, the big round clocks and the pennants proudly displayed on the wall. And the smell.

  A group of kids, both girls and guys, were playing volleyball under the supervision of a woman in her thirties, with dark hair, cut athletically short.

  “Looking for someone?” she called out to him.

  “Bob St. Clair?”

  “That’s his office.” She pointed, then returned her attention to her students.

  The coach’s office was a small, disorganized place, filled with files and papers, trophies and other sporting memorabilia. Coach Bob was about ten years older than Jay, with a round face and friendly eyes.

  “Nice to meet you, Jay.” He stood up to shake hands. “My brother told me all about you. That time you didn’t know if the landing gear had come down…that must have been something, huh?”

  Jay had forgotten that he and Wayne had been together on that flight. The incident fell under the category of near-disasters he’d rather forget, but Coach Bob wasn’t easily dissuaded. “What did it feel like when the landing gear didn’t lock? Did you ever think you wouldn’t make it?”

  “A pilot has no business thinking that way. When something goes wrong, you concentrate on your job. Flying the plane remains number one. Then troubleshooting the problem. If you have any spare time above that, you spend it reassuring the crew and the passengers and keeping everyone calm and focused.”

  “Wayne said he couldn’t believe how cool you were. He said he was sweating bullets.”

  “He was young. Experience counts for a lot in a situation like that.”

  “Though you don’t want too many of those experiences, do you?”

  “That’s for sure.”

  “Well.” Ice-breaking chitchat over, the coach splayed his hands on his desk. “How can I help you? According to my brother’s e-mail, you’re trying to find a football coach by the name of Gary Gifford.”

  “That’s the right name, but he may not be coaching. All I know for sure is that he played football for the Blue Devils from 1984 to 1988 when he graduated from New England College with a degree in physical education.”

  “Well, Gary’s a coach all right. Or he was. Last place I traced him was Brooklyn Heights High School, two years ago.”

  “Two years ago? Where did he go after that?”

  “No one knows.” Coach Bob shrugged. “But if you want details, I’d talk to Travis Johnson. He’s Gary’s replacement.”

  “Well, thanks for the tip. I appreciate that.”

  “No problem. And when this investigation—or whatever it is you’re doing—is over, you get back to flying planes. You hear?”

  Yeah, right. I wish. Jay thanked Coach St. Clair again for his time and left.

  KATE DIDN’T KNOW if Jay WAS bluffing, or if he really did have a genuine lead. Not that it mattered. She’d gone as far as she could with Oliver Crane. That left only one man to find: Gary Gifford.

  She pulled out her spreadsheet to review everything she knew about him. This was the guy who had been on the college football team, the guy who had graduated with a degree specializing in physical education. It made sense that he would end up with a job teaching in a school somewhere. But that somewhere could be anywhere.

  Kate searched databases diligently for several hours without finding Gary’s name in any of the current listings. She started with Manhattan, then all the boroughs, slowly expanding her search through most of the state. Finally she had to face the fact that he might not be teaching in the public school system. Perhaps he’d landed a coaching job with one of the college football teams. Or found a job in another part of the country.

  She abandoned her database searches and started entering random combinations with Gary’s name into Google. In just ten minutes she located an article written two years ago in the Brooklyn Newspaper. Gary Gifford was profiled in a story about teachers who made a difference. According to the article, he was a teacher and coach at Brooklyn Heights High School.

  Kate printed off the article, then searched for the school’s phone number. When she asked for Gary Gifford, however, the school receptionist replied that he had retired a few years ago.

  “He wasn’t that old, was he?”

  “He took early retirement.”

  The receptionist sounded a little impatient. Almost as if she’d already been asked this same question once today. Could it be? No, surely not, Kate told herself. Jay simply couldn’t be one step ahead of her this time.

  “I’m afraid I can’t tell you much more than that,” the receptionist concluded.

  Surely someone at the school had to know more. “Who replaced him?”

  “Travis Johnson,” was the weary reply.

  “May I speak to him, please?” She waited while the call was transferred, then ended up having to leave a message. It was three o’clock, Kate noted. Probably Travis Johnson was in class. Rather than wait for him to check his messages and call her back, she decided to take a cab out to the school and try to catch him before he went home for the day.

  Grabbing her leather bag, she left the office, stopping in the reception area for her coat.

  “Now where?” Nadine asked, her eyes bright.

  “Brooklyn Heights High School.” She fastened the belt on her jacket. Had she imagined the flash of amusement in Nadine’s eyes? “If Jay asks, you won’t say anything?”

  “Of course not,” Nadine assured her.

  Kate paused to give the receptionist a probing look. Nadine smiled, but remained silent.

  Kate couldn’t resist. She had to ask. “Do you know where Jay is this afternoon?”

  Nadine kept smiling.

  “I was afraid of that. Damn it!” Kate ran down the stairs and along the street, praying for a cab to appear quickly.

  ABOUT TWENTY TEENAGE boys in school uniforms were running around the schoolyard when Kate’s cab pulled up in front of Brooklyn Heights High School. The coach, a short man with immense shoulders, was standing on the edge of the field, holding a clipboard and talking to Jay.

  He really had beaten her here. How the hell did he keep doing that?

  Kate paid her fare, then stepped out to the street. Jay was about thirty yards away, but she could see his face quite clearly. He looked amused, darn him. Then he continued speaking, in an animated fashion, to the coach.

  As she picked her way carefully through the snow and slush in her high-heel boots, she wondered how the kids managed to run in these conditions. As she drew closer, she saw that snow had been removed from an oval track that ran the circu
mference of the school property. Most of the kids threw her curious glances, but the coach had his back to her and didn’t even notice her until she had joined them.

  “Sorry I’m late, Jay,” she said. “Nadine forgot to give me the message.”

  Jay’s smile broadened, and he looked like he was going to laugh. At least he wasn’t upset that she’d found him here and was barging into yet another one of his prearranged meetings.

  It was hard not to appreciate how handsome he looked in his sheepskin jacket and dark jeans. He was wearing his aviator sunglasses again, and with his killer smile, he was good-looking enough to draw glances from a group of girls who were standing, shivering, near the side entrance of the school, probably waiting for the boys to finish practice.

  Jay played along with her charade. “Let me bring you up to speed. Travis, this is Kate Cooper. She’s working on this case, too. Kate, Travis Johnson. Travis was just explaining that Gary took early retirement a few years ago.”

  She hadn’t noticed, until then, the way the coach was looking at her—as if she were a piece of candy on a tray.

  “Nice to meet you, Kate. Do you live in Brooklyn?”

  She saw him check out her hands, undoubtedly noting the lack of rings. “No. Manhattan. Upper West Side.” She tucked her hands into the deep pockets of her coat and gave him a cautious smile in return. Friendly, but not too much so. “Gary was in his mid-forties. Why did he take early retirement? Was there a problem?”

  Travis Johnson seemed affronted by the suggestion. “You mean some sort of scandal? Not at all. Gary was a great guy and a gifted teacher. I worked with him for a few weeks before he left. I gathered he was leaving for health issues. But he didn’t provide details.”

  “Did he keep in touch after he left?”

  “Not with me.”

  “I worked my way through the staff room earlier,” Jay added for her benefit. “Seems Gary hasn’t kept in touch with anyone here.”

  It was generous of him to share his information, though it was unfortunate this school seemed to be a dead end.

  She glanced at the coach again. He was still eyeing her with interest. If she wasn’t currently off men, she might have given him an encouraging smile. He was nice-looking, athletic and, obviously being a coach and a teacher, he must like kids.

  She felt zero romantic interest, though.

  “Is there anything else you can tell us about Gary?” Kate asked, hoping for a hint of where to look next. “Do you know if he had any family or any particular hobbies or interests?”

  “He wasn’t married. I heard rumors from the kids that he was in love with one of the teachers here. But you know how kids talk. As for other interests, far as I know, all he really cared about was sports. Particularly football, of course.”

  Coach Johnson blew a whistle, then called out for the guys on the field to hit the showers. As the young guys streamed off the field into the school, the coach trailed behind with her and Jay.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t be more helpful.” The coach was looking at Kate as he said this. “Maybe you could leave your number, though. In case I find something else.”

  “I’ve already left my number on your answering machine,” Kate said. “Please do contact us if you or any of your fellow teachers remember anything about Gary.”

  Travis glanced quickly from Kate to Jay. “You two…you just work together, right?”

  “So far,” Jay said, before Kate had a chance to reply. He winked at Travis, who reacted with confusion, then a nervous chuckle.

  “Thanks again for your time,” Kate said, mildly annoyed at Jay. As they left the school grounds together, she decided to put him in his place. “Why did you say so far, as if there might be a relationship between us in the future?”

  “I could see the guy was interested in you. I was just trying to give you an easy out.”

  “But what if I wanted him to be interested?”

  “Just last night you said you were done with dating. Did meeting Coach Johnson inspire you to change your mind?”

  The idea was ludicrous, leaving Kate to wonder why she felt so upset. Was it because she could take care of herself and Jay shouldn’t have butted in? Or was it because his interest in claiming her affections had only been faked?

  ALTHOUGH IT WAS ALREADY five o’clock, Kate opted to return to the office and Jay decided to do the same.

  During the cab ride back to Manhattan, Kate quizzed Jay on how he had traced Gary Gifford to Brooklyn Heights High School. Again, he impressed her with his resourcefulness. Even though he didn’t have her training and experience, somehow his instincts always seemed to lead him to the right place.

  In the office, she was surprised to see Nadine still seated at her desk.

  “I’m so glad you came back.” Nadine broke into a relieved smile. “I was worried you’d go straight home after your meeting at the school.”

  “You knew Jay was going to be there when I told you where I was headed, didn’t you?”

  Nadine put up her hands in an apologetic gesture. “I’m sorry. I hate being in the middle, but I have to be impartial. Really, I wish both of you could win.”

  “At this point I don’t think either of us is going to solve this case.” Kate flopped onto the reception area sofa and grabbed a handful of the jelly beans meant for waiting clients.

  Though they’d warned Hannah that finding her father could take weeks, Kate hadn’t really expected the job to be this tough.

  Jay sat next to her. He, too, appeared tired. “We came so close…”

  “Maybe you’re closer than you think.” Nadine held up a thick envelope. “Look what the courier dropped off one hour ago. The DNA test results for James Morgan.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “OKAY,” NADINE ASKED, holding the envelope from BioFinds Lab in her hands. “Who’s going to open this?”

  Kate glanced at Jay. He was looking at her. He raised an eyebrow and shrugged, and she guessed that, like her, he didn’t know what to hope for.

  A positive result would be best for Hannah. It wouldn’t matter that Oliver Crane had refused to provide a DNA sample or that the trail had gone cold on Gary Gifford. She would be free to get pregnant without worries and James would suddenly have a daughter and a grandchild.

  But then there would be no clear winner in the competition. Lindsay and Nathan would be no further ahead in deciding which of them should get the job.

  “I feel like we’re presenting at the Oscars,” Jay said. “You open the envelope, and I’ll read the results.”

  “I can’t believe how nervous I feel.” Kate took the envelope from Nadine, hesitated, then tore it open. Inside was the report. She handed it to Jay.

  “And the winner is…” He paused to read silently for a moment, then his shoulders sank.

  “There is no winner,” Jay confirmed. “Because James Morgan is not the father.”

  “That’s bad, isn’t it? Or is it good?” Nadine looked from Kate to Jay, trying to judge their reactions. “At least this way one of you still has a chance of winning.”

  It was so like Nadine to try and put a positive spin on the results. “That’s true,” Kate said. “But I’m not looking forward to telling James Morgan the news. He and his wife were so excited about this. I feel like I raised their hopes for nothing.”

  “I’ll make the call,” Nadine said.

  “That’s sweet of you to offer. But I took his DNA sample. I feel like I should be the one to phone with the results.”

  “Are you sure?” Jay asked quietly. “I was there, too. It could just as easily be me.”

  “We could make it a conference call,” Nadine suggested. “That way you could both be on the line when you tell him.”

  Kate looked at Jay. He nodded.

  “That’s a great idea, Nadine,” she said. “Jay can use the phone in our office and I’ll grab the one in the conference room.”

  “Okay.” Nadine started to arrange the call, then paused. “Oh, one more thi
ng I should mention now before I forget.”

  Kate and Jay waited for her to continue.

  “Lindsay and Nathan wanted me to tell you both that they’ve arranged a progress report with Hannah Young and her husband for tomorrow morning at nine.”

  JAMES MORGAN HANDLED the disappointing news much better than Kate had expected.

  “Ah, well, I guess it wasn’t meant to be,” he said sanguinely. “Thanks for letting me know. And good luck finding your client’s father. I hope he turns out to be a worthy man.”

  “We really appreciate your cooperation,” Jay said.

  “And good luck to you, too, Jimmy.” Kate disconnected the call and sat for a moment, stumped.

  She’d expected him to be so crushed. Maybe she’d just projected her own desperate desire to have children onto Jimmy and his wife. They’d obviously been a happy and content couple before she and Jay had arrived with their outrageous request. And now they still would be.

  Jay appeared at the open door to the conference room. “That went well.”

  “Surprisingly well.”

  He glanced at his watch. “Nadine just left. She wants us to lock up. Are you ready to go?”

  Kate thought about the meeting tomorrow morning with the client. It would be easier to prepare a report here at the office than at home. “No. I think I’ll stay a while longer. You go ahead. I’ll make sure everything is locked up safely for the night.”

  But Jay didn’t leave. He stepped into the room and closed the door. “I don’t know about you, but I’m kind of at a standstill with the case right now.”

  She hesitated, then sighed. “Me, too. What a disappointment that the trail went cold at Brooklyn Heights High School.”

  Disappointing, but not unusual. Most cases had their moments of progress and inevitable setbacks. She was far from ready to give up. But Jay didn’t have the same experience to draw from. Maybe he was becoming discouraged.

  “When I saw you get out of the cab at the high school today, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.”