Murder Is Private

by Diane Weiner

  Murder Is Private

  (A Susan Wiles Schoolhouse Mystery)

  Diane Weiner

  Dedicated to teachers everywhere

  Prologue

  Susan’s blood pulsed against her neck like a jackhammer. A bear-like hand covered her mouth, squeezing her cheeks, thwarting her attempts to scream. Sweating in spite of the cold night air, she kicked the inside of the car door, over and over again.

  “Stop! Please stop! I’m not going to hurt you,” said the attacker. His grip grew tighter as she continued to struggle.

  She wriggled her shoulders, but couldn’t break free. Her throat choked with panic. Her wet bangs clung to her forehead.

  “Stop!” The attacker hesitated. Susan fought harder. Then the words tripped out of his mouth. Words she’d never heard before. He took a deep breath, looked her in the eyes and said, “I’m your brother.”

  Brother? Did he say brother? The words ricocheted in Susan’s head like a rogue tennis ball. She stopped kicking. The blood rushed away from her face. The attacker released his grip. With her pulse still racing, she said, “My brother? I don’t have a brother. What are you doing here? What do you want?” She stared into a pair of espresso-colored eyes.

  “Our mother, Audrey, wants to cancel your visit, but she needs your help.”

  Susan released her clenched fists and let her shoulders fall. Our mother? Audrey Roberts? She sat up straight. The gut-wrenching panic began to wane. “You want my help, so you abducted me? You couldn’t just call or knock at the front door? What kind of a lunatic are you?”

  “With that detective daughter of yours? I wasn’t born yesterday. A stranger claiming to be your brother, asking you to come to Florida to solve a mystery? She’d think I was a kook, just like you do, but she’d throw me in jail. I had to convince you in person.” Susan looked at his face; a chipped canine tooth accentuated his creepiness.

  “So you’ve been stalking me?”

  “Stalking, no. Researching, yes.”

  “How do I know you’re really my brother?”

  “Call Audrey. I have no reason to lie. Here’s my driver’s license.” He pulled it out of his wallet.

  Susan took the Florida license and held it close up. In the darkness, she squinted to read the name. George Roberts. Same last name as her newly-discovered mother.

  Chapter 1

  The plane descended through a cotton-candy cloud. Susan saw nothing but blue sky, ocean, and green. Lots of green. Fort Lauderdale. Quite a change from her home in snow-covered Westbrook, New York. Finally, she was about to meet the birth mother who’d given her up sixty-two years ago. She tingled from anticipation like a child on Christmas morning. Her baby granddaughter, Annalise, stirred in the seat next to her.

  “Lynette, why don’t you give her the bottle so her ears don’t start hurting?”

  “I’m a step ahead of you, Mom.” Lynette had already pulled a bottle of juice from the diaper bag. Annalise mostly drank from a Sippy-cup these days, but for the sake of simplicity, Lynette had packed a bottle. With one arm in a cast, managing a toddler was challenge enough.

  “I’m anxious to meet Audrey,” said Susan. What she didn’t say was how much her heart ached for the mother who’d raised her. People tell you grief lessens with time, but Susan felt the opposite. She’d trade just about anything to hear her mom’s voice, or see her lopsided smile one more time. “My curiosity is killing me, Lynette. What do you think Audrey mean when she told me not to come because it was too dangerous? What could be dangerous at a tony performing arts school in the heart of Banyan Beach, Florida? I think Donald Trump has a hotel there.”

  “Who knows? You haven’t met Audrey yet. She could be an alarmist old lady, for all we know. Her idea of danger might be a stray cat stalking the school grounds at night.”

  “But my . . . brother, George, came all the way to Westbrook to track me down. He’s taking this seriously.”

  “A new-found brother, and a weird cookie at that from what you described,” added Lynette.

  The flight attendant gave the command to buckle up and raise the seat backs. This flight was ending, and a new adventure was about to begin.

  In the airport, Susan recognized her brother immediately, though she’d only met him once, when he’d pulled her into the backseat of Lynette’s car, scared her half to death, and then begged for her help. He’d done his research and knew Susan was not only a retired teacher, but also a sleuth extraordinaire. He’d read how Susan had helped solve several school-related murders along with the help of his niece––her daughter, Detective Lynette Green. Susan had to admit feeling a bit like a proud peacock when he’d told her that.

  “George, this is my daughter, Lynette, and my granddaughter, Annalise.” Annalise squirmed in Susan’s arms. When George stroked her cheek, Annalise wailed and buried her head in Susan’s chest.

  “Welcome to Florida,” he said, taking the diaper bag and car seat from Lynette. “Let me get that.” His tanned biceps bulged under his thin t-shirt. George looked to be a good twenty years Susan’s junior. He had the same wavy blond hair as she did, kissed two shades lighter by the abundant sun. He sported the same puppy dog nose as she and Lynette. Odd that she noticed a family resemblance when a week ago she didn’t even know her brother existed.

  The ride to the school took them past strip malls, gated communities, and more restaurants per mile than she’d ever seen back in New York. Sunlight warmed her arm through the open car window and the wind brushing her face ushered the aroma of salt water through her nostrils.

  “The school’s coming up on the left,” said George. Susan’s heart thumped in anticipation of meeting her birth mother. In her mind, she rehearsed for the hundredth time what she was going to say when they stood face to face for the first time. Hello, Audrey. I’m your daughter, Susan––the one you gave away sixty-two years ago. She imagined shaking her mother’s hand. She didn’t want to hug this complete stranger. Her mental practice was aborted when two police cars, sirens screaming, flew past them.

  “What’s going on?” asked Lynette. “Looks like they’re diverting traffic away from the school.” Annalise was now awake and crying.

  “I don’t know,” said George. When he got closer to the detour, he rolled his window down and asked the uniformed officer what the fuss was about.

  “The area is blocked off. It’s a crime scene; you need to follow the detour.”

  “A crime scene? Here?” George gave Susan an I told you so look.

  George drove down the street, then turned into an alley. Susan’s stomach churned. Something felt wrong.

  “I know a back way. Let’s try that or we’ll be here all day. I wonder what happened.” He tried calling his mother but it went straight to voice mail. “Mom never turns her phone off. I’m worried.” Susan heard the tightness in his voice, indicating his sincere concern for his mother. At least Audrey has bonded with one of her children.

  George parked the car near a green dumpster, ripe with flies and the fruity stench of rotting food. He motioned them to follow. Susan spotted an ambulance. Did this have anything to do with the danger Audrey had mentioned on the phone? Surely she wasn’t walking into a crime scene her first day in Florida. Or was she? A blond woman in an expensive pants suit ran up to them. Is that my mother? wondered Susan. Short of breath, the woman addressed George, ignoring Susan, Lynette, and the baby.

  “George, I don’t get it. She’s dead. Celia Watkins, the chorus director. One of the students discovered her hidden behind the Banyan tree.” It was her mother––Audrey Roberts. The woman’s voice was resonant. Under different circumstance, Susan would characterize it as authoritative—commanding, in spite of a southern drawl.

  “Mom, are you sure?” Georg
e put his hands on his mother’s shoulders. Susan drank in the image of the flesh and blood birth mother standing before. The mother she’d just found out about shortly after her adoptive Mom had died. She’d discovered the adoption papers days after the funeral, and had spent the past couple of years searching. This woman standing before her was tall, with wide hips and delicate skin. Her eyes were chestnut brown, like Lynette’s.

  Susan’s mind snapped back to the present and she looked down at the body of a middle-aged woman, lying on a pillow of blood. George’s shortcut behind the school and Audrey’s position as principal had brought their car close to the crime scene. A pair of mangled, wire-rimmed glasses lay on the ground next to the body. A monogrammed leather briefcase spattered with red dots of blood, sat beside the glasses.

  To Susan, this scene felt like a replay of Vicky Rogers’s death. Shortly after retiring, Susan had discovered her former boss dead, during intermission at the school holiday concert. Thus had begun her sleuthing hobby. This can’t be happening again, thought Susan, as they all exited the car.

  “Susan, I’m so sorry about this,” said the woman. “I should have insisted that you stay home! I was worried something like this might happen.” Audrey paced in circles, frown lines etched into her cheeks. Then she froze suddenly and looked at Susan, as if finally taking a moment to acknowledge her long lost daughter standing in front of her. Their eyes met, and Susan’s hands trembled as she reached out to shake Audrey’s hand. Should she hug her instead, even though she’d previously decided not to? What would Miss Manners say? Susan felt like crying, giggling, and screaming all at the same time.

  “Susan, I can’t believe you’re standing here in front of me. I wish I wasn’t so distracted with this horrible murder after anticipating our reunion for so long. You are beautiful. And Lynette is too.” Susan spotted tears on Audrey’s cheek. Annalise reached for Susan, saying “Ga, Ga,” which was toddler speak for Grandma.

  “And you have a great granddaughter,” added Susan. She took the baby from Lynette. Audrey touched Annalise’s cheek, causing Annalise to cry and bury her head in Susan’s shirt––her typical response to strangers.

  “It’s the age,” said Lynette. “Stranger anxiety they call it.” The business at hand brought them back to reality as a policeman approached.

  “Are you the principal?” asked a uniformed officer.

  “Principal Emeritus,” replied Audrey. “I’m in charge of the school if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “Come with me, ma’am. The detective would like to speak with you.”

  Audrey excused herself. Lynette looked at her mother and shook her head.

  “Mom, it’s like you’re some sort of a murder magnet.” Annalise squirmed, trying to break free of Susan’s arms. “Maybe we should just get a cab to the hotel.”

  “Lynette, we came all this way. I’m sure Audrey will be done soon.” Meanwhile, Susan again scanned the crime scene. The body was lying face down, with a gaping wound on the back of her head. In no universe could this have been an accidental death. A wooden sign hung from an ivy-covered walkway with an arrow that read Arboretum. Someone could have easily hidden amongst the greenery and surprised the victim from behind. Susan wondered if they’d searched for a murder weapon. Eventually, Audrey, finished giving her statement, walked back toward her.

  “Susan, Lynette, let’s go into my office while the police do what they need to do.” She walked the women toward the building and inside. “I don’t know what to tell the staff or the students. This has probably gotten out on Twitter already. Poor Celia. Everyone loved her. I’m sure it must have been an attempted robbery. What was she doing out in the arboretum anyway? I have to call her family. I don’t know what to say to them.” Audrey’s staccato words spit from her mouth like bullets from a machine gun.

  Susan remembered the leather brief case left at the scene. If it was a robbery, wouldn’t the thief have taken it?

  “Audrey, I think Mom and I’ll just go to the hotel. It looks like you have your hands full,” said Lynette. Audrey offered little protest as they entered her office door.

  “I’m so sorry. I was looking forward to our reunion. I hate that it was spoiled. My head is buzzing right now.”

  George burst into the office, sweat stains all over the front of his shirt. “They just removed the body. Coroner thinks she died sometime last night. They’re still processing the crime scene. They’re asking around, seeing if there were any witnesses.”

  “And a murder weapon?” said Susan.

  “Not yet. Let me drive you all to the hotel. You must be exhausted.”

  “Go on. I’ll call you when things quiet down,” said Audrey. She gave both Lynette and Susan a hug goodbye. Annalise snuck a peek, then buried her head into Susan once again.

  Chapter 2

  Lynette and Susan flopped down on the beds of the musty hotel room. Annalise had fallen asleep in the cab and Susan transferred her to a portable crib near the window, closing the blinds against the late afternoon sun.

  “Lynette, what are your thoughts about this murder?”

  “I’m wondering what the chorus teacher was doing out alone at night.”

  “I know. When I was working, the last thing I wanted to do after a long day was to come back to campus. She was wearing jeans and sneakers, so she must have gone home between school ending and her walk in the arboretum.”

  “She may have been meeting someone,” said Lynette.

  “Why was she carrying a briefcase? What do you think was inside?”

  “I have no idea. She could have been meeting a student with graded work or a recommendation letter. Sounds farfetched, I know.”

  “Maybe we can find out what was in the briefcase. You’re a detective; maybe you could talk to…..”

  Lynette abruptly changed the subject. “So, Mom, what do you think of Audrey? How do you feel now that you’ve met her in person?”

  Lynette was going to keep her out of the investigation, as usual. Since they were away from home, Susan doubted Lynette wanted to be involved herself. Always careful not to step on anyone’s toes, Lynette wouldn’t interfere with the local police. She, on the other hand, had made a promise to George. She came to help him find out about the attack on a security guard and an ‘accident’ involving the school principal––but now the stakes were higher. A teacher had been murdered.

  “It’s surreal,” said Susan. “It feels like I’m going to wake up any minute now, back in front of my computer in Westbrook, still searching for my birth mother.”

  “No more searching. You found her. She looks great for her age. Hardly a wrinkle.”

  “And she has so much energy.”

  “Probably because her adrenaline was pumping, but I think you’re right. How many people do you know who are still working in their seventies?” Lynette said, grabbing the remote. “Something is off about George, though. When he smiled with that chipped canine tooth, he reminded me of Edward from that Twilight movie.”

  “Not pale enough,” said Susan.

  “Hey. Look! There’s the school on the evening news!” Lynette pointed at the TV. A reporter was standing in the arboretum, interviewing a student dressed in a Hemingway High t-shirt and basketball shorts.

  “What do you think about this horrendous incident happening right here at this exclusive performing arts high school?” asked the reporter, pointing her microphone in the student’s face. “Do you fear for your safety? A murder right in the middle of the campus…”

  “My parents aren’t happy,” replied the student. “They’re flying down from Georgia to take me home. I was already looking over my shoulder when walking between classes, especially at night after rehearsals.”

  The reporter turned to the camera. “This brutal murder comes on the heels of an armed attack last week on a security guard, as well as the tragic attempted suicide of a promising dance student. School was once a safe harbor for America’s youth. What has education come to?” The station w
ent to commercial break.

  “Lynette, did you hear that? An attempted suicide? An armed attack? That must be why Audrey warned me to stay away.”

  “No doubt. But you just couldn’t, could you? Three crimes in such a short time span at a school campus, in a good part of town? They must be related. Too much of a coincidence otherwise. Audrey must be beside herself as acting head of the school.”

  Susan nodded. “I agree with you. I wonder if there was a relationship between the three victims.”

  “Mom, I know this mystery is tempting you, but you came to reunite with your birth mother, period. Focus on that.”

  “Actually…”

  “Actually what? I have a feeling I’m not going to like what you’re about to tell me.”

  “I told you George came to New York to get me to visit my mother in Florida. That she was dying to meet me.”

  “And…”

  “And he’d done his research. He knew I’d been instrumental in solving those school-related crimes in Westbrook. He asked for my help. He told me Audrey was desperate, at her wit’s end.”

  “So Audrey asked him to fetch his sister Audrey’d given up at birth, the sister he didn’t know he had, because the police department down in Florida was just too incompetent to handle it.”

  “No, of course not. He thought I’d be helpful since I was at ease in the school setting. Thought I might have a unique perspective. He never said anything about the police not being able to handle it. I don’t know why you think every time I’m called in to help solve a case, it’s because someone is accusing the police of being buffoons. That’s simply not true. Having taught for thirty years, I know a thing or two about how schools and teachers work. Call it insider intel, if you will. I have nothing but respect for law enforcement.”

  “I don’t want to get into that right now. Those layers run deep. You’re here as a guest. Period. Let’s stay out of police business and enjoy the sunshine and getting to know our biological family. Besides, I’m on leave while I’m recuperating. The last thing I want to do right now is get tangled up in a murder, miles from home.”