Murder Is Private

by Diane Weiner

  After dinner, Audrey made coffee and cut the key lime pie. Susan filled her in on the life and times of Susan Wiles and saw a hint of sadness in the watery reflection of Audrey’s brown eyes. How often over the years had Audrey thought of her? At fifteen, had Audrey felt an attachment to the baby swelling in her belly? Did she go right back to her teenage life after giving up her baby, or had she mourned the loss of her newborn daughter?

  “Audrey, I think we’ll be going,” said Lynette. “Mom hasn’t taught for a few years. She needs her sleep so she can face those kids tomorrow.”

  “I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’re here. And I really appreciate your mom’s help. Susan, meet me in my office tomorrow morning and I’ll bring you to your class.”

  “Looking forward to it,” said Susan. She had a bit of trepidation over teaching high school students, but bigger problems, much bigger problems, were waiting around the bend.

  Chapter 5

  Susan stared at the alarm clock next to the bed and waited for it to sound. She’d never needed an alarm clock to wake her when she taught, and she still rose most mornings before the sun, but just in case, she put on a casual dress and sandals. If this job continued past this week, she’d definitely need to hit the mall for some teaching clothes.

  Lynette rolled over in her bed. “Ready for re-entry?”

  “Ready as I’ll get. I am a little nervous about teaching teenagers. Quite a jump from the elementary kids I worked with all those years.”

  “They’re just taller. You’ll be fine. Just don’t get into any trouble. Remember, an attack and a murder happened on that campus recently. Do your job and come back right away so we can take Annalise to the beach again.”

  Susan went to Audrey’s office as soon as the cab dropped her off. When Audrey hugged her, she recognized her scent––Viva La Juicy. Susan’s signature scent. Was taste in fragrances genetic? she wondered.

  “Thanks again, Susan. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.” Audrey led Susan to the choral suite. The class was eerily silent. Audrey announced that grief counselors would be available all week. She assured the students that their teacher’s killer would be discovered and brought to justice. Then she introduced Susan and left her alone with the students.

  Susan’s stomach did flip flops like it had done so many years ago when she’d begun her career. Her first impression of the students was that they were so... well…big. Susan thought carrying on with the class routine would be comforting. She explained the first exercise and sat at the piano with the seating chart.

  “Who can sing back the example I just played?” A girl wearing a choker and glasses raised her hand. Her hair was the color of black cherry Kool-Aid. Susan looked at the seating chart and called on Starr Goldberg who performed the exercise flawlessly.

  “That’s correct, Starr.” Did she just see the boy behind Starr mimic her as she sang? Susan felt the tension in her neck and shoulders begin to ease as she progressed through the class. The hour flew by, and Starr and two others came up to her when the bell rang.

  “I can’t believe Ms. Watkins is dead. We all loved her so much,” said Starr.

  “What a terrible tragedy! Yes, I’m sure you all miss her,” said Susan.

  “I was afraid we’d get a sub who didn’t know music. I’m glad we have someone who does,” said Starr. She wiped her eyes, then introduced her friends––Bibi Muhammad, her head wrapped with a hijab, and a chunky boy with dimples, Manolito Gonzalez. All three were juniors.

  “I taught music for many years, but I’ve been retired for a bit. This is quite a school.”

  “Quite a school, alright,” said Bibi. “Some really odd things going on here this year.”

  “What do you mean? Besides the murder?” Susan asked.

  Manolito chimed in. “Over in the auditorium, we see lights flickering at night in the roof tower. Other kids see it too. I think it’s haunted.”

  “That’s ridiculous, Manolito. Even coming from you,” said Starr.

  “He may be right, Starr,” said Bibi. “I’ve heard eerie violin music coming from the windows when the auditorium is locked up. Other people have heard it too.”

  “And don’t forget Trish,” said Starr.

  Bibi said, “Trish is my roommate, Mrs. Wiles. She overdosed on prescription drugs not long ago, right in our dorm room. They’re calling it an attempted suicide. I know it wasn’t.”

  “That’s awful. Was she depressed?” said Susan. Her foul play sensors perked up. Interesting.

  “I’ve known Trish since freshman year,” continued Bibi. “She loves dancing and always has a great attitude. I never once saw her depressed. In fact, she was planning on going to Aruba over spring break with a few of the other dance students. She’d even bought a new bathing suit and was going to the tanning salon.”

  “I was friends with her too,” said Manolito, reclaiming the spotlight. “I know she hated taking medicine and had trouble swallowing pills. When she got a headache, she’d use acupressure before she’d take an aspirin.”

  Bibi hesitated, then added, “She was having some issues over performing. She’d gotten the lead in the ballet and she was stressed. She beat out half a dozen other ballerinas for the role. Lots of jealousy floating around the dance department. The girls she beat were giving her the cold shoulder. One even posted a nasty comment with an unflattering picture on Instagram. Trish always felt pressure to be perfect. She went back to the studio every night to practice. She had trouble sleeping. I’d hear her tossing and turning.”

  “Bibi, were you the one who found her?” asked Susan.

  “Thank God, no. I’d gone home for the weekend. She missed a Saturday night performance. That was totally unlike her. I mean, she had the lead. She never would have missed the show!”

  “Her friends from the show went over to our dorm afterwards to see if she was okay. They could see the light was on in her room, but Trish didn’t answer their knocks or her phone. They called campus police and when they opened the door, they found her unconscious on the floor.” Manolito’s voice cracked as he stifled tears when he spoke.

  “Then, our poor security guard, Charlie, was brutally attacked,” added Bibi. “Our principal was in a freak car accident too. That’s why Mrs. Roberts came back. Rumors say our principal was run off the road. Mrs. Wiles, there haven’t ever been any attacks, robberies, or vandalism in the history of our school––until now.” Although she was a violinist, Bibi spoke with the inflections of a drama student.

  “We better go, or we’ll be late for our next class,” said Starr. “Why don’t you come hear us play Thursday night over at Trinity Village? It’s an assisted living and nursing home. Our orchestra conductor is in charge of bringing a group over once a week all through the school year. It happens to be our turn this week. I’m concert master.” Manolito rolled his eyes.

  “Can I bring my daughter and granddaughter?”

  “Of course,” said Starr. “At least we’ll know there are three people in the audience who aren’t hard of hearing.” She smiled.

  “Count us in,” replied Susan warmly.

  The rest of the day flew by. Chorus rehearsal went better than she’d expected. These kids could really sing. Before she knew it, the dismissal bell rang. It’s been fun, but I’m feeling my age. I can’t wait to take a nap. When she reached into her purse for her office key, she remembered the rubber band with the hair caught in it. I’ll call Kevin. He gave me his card.

  “Mrs. Wiles, what can I do for you?” the detective replied on the phone.

  “It may be nothing,” said Susan, “but I found a tiny rubber band with hair caught in it near the murder scene. I have it for you if you think it’s important.”

  “At this stage of the investigation, all evidence is important. I’ll come by and pick it up. Are you at the school?”

  “Yes. I’ll wait here.” While waiting for the detective, Susan tried to learn more about Celia Watkins, the murdered music teacher. She
looked around her office. Two impressionistic paintings hung on one wall, along with a framed photo of the Eiffel Tower. On the bookshelf, there was an interesting cuckoo clock, still displaying the correct time. The books ranged in topic from music history and scores, to travel books. No pictures of her husband or children if she even had any, or pets.

  It took only a few minutes for Kevin to arrive.

  “Let’s see what you found,” he said.

  She handed him the rubber band. “It’s probably nothing. It’s got hair attached, like it was yanked out or something.”

  “I’ll run it through the lab. You never know. By the way, how’s Lynette enjoying Florida?” His voice had a lilt to it when he said Lynette’s name. Does he still have a thing for her? Susan wondered.

  “She and the baby are doing just fine. She already misses her husband, Jason. They still act like newlyweds, even after becoming parents.” Maybe I’m slathering it on a bit thick, she thought.

  After Kevin left, Susan wanted to stop by Audrey’s office. On the way, she passed George coming out of the auditorium. What sort of landscaping did he have to do in there? she wondered. George walked right past her, his chin taut and his eyes toward the ground. I wonder what’s got him so deep in thought.

  She walked into Audrey’s office. “Audrey, I wanted to let you know the day went great. Nice kids. I’m going to call a cab and go back to the hotel.”

  “Hotel? Susan, you saw my house. I have plenty of room. You and the girls have to stay with me! I’d love the company and we’ll have more time to get to know each other. Besides, I want to win over that precious Annalise. I miss having a baby in the house.”

  Susan thought about how Audrey had given up one chance at having a baby around. George would have benefitted from having a big sister. He was an awkward character. Didn’t look you in the eye when he spoke. And working for his Mom at his age?

  “It would be nice for Annalise to have room to move around.” Susan remembered the tile floors and glass table. Hoping Audrey would get the hint, she added, “She’s into everything. Had to baby-proof my entire house back home once she started crawling.”

  “Say no more. I’ll stop and pick up outlet covers. I have a large area rug sitting in my garage that I can put down. I’ll come by the hotel and pick you up. I just have a few things to finish.”

  Susan looked forward to spending time with Audrey. She still had so many unanswered questions. Besides, she’d be saving on cab fares. Audrey’s house was within walking distance of the school. Heck, she’d even burn some calories.

  Chapter 6

  Audrey picked them up at the hotel before dinner. Barely a stone’s throw from the school, Audrey’s two-story house was nestled between two others in a cookie cutter neighborhood, with zero lot lines.

  “Home, sweet home,” said Audrey. “Let me help you get settled in your home away from home. You’ll always be welcome here.”

  Two lovely guest rooms, separated by a bathroom, greeted them at the top of the staircase. Susan’s room was painted pastel pink with a mural of a beach scene on the wall opposite the four poster bed. It felt peaceful and soothing after a long day. Susan couldn’t wait to crawl under the thick duvet. She would never admit it to Lynette, but teaching all day was exhausting. Her feet ached in spite of her Easy Spirit comfort sandals.

  “And Lynette, you and the baby will be in here,” said Audrey. The other guest room was sky blue, with white shabby chic furniture. An electric diffuser filled the room with a sweet vanilla scent. Susan inhaled the heavenly fragrance and made a note to buy one when she got back home.

  “I borrowed a portable crib for Annalise. Let’s go downstairs and order in. There’s a Chinese place down the road as well as a pizzeria. They both deliver.”

  “I could go for some Schezuan Chicken,” said Lynette.

  Susan wanted it all––fried dumplings, eggrolls, sesame chicken––but said, “I’ll take the steamed broccoli and vegetables.” Her birthday was coming up and she’d promised herself a year and ten pounds ago that she’d get down to her goal weight before then. All this Florida sunshine and the threat of facing the beach in a bathing suit infused her with will power.

  “School closes early tomorrow so we can attend Celia’s funeral,” said Audrey. “Her husband has to be devastated. Even he must feel the loss.”

  What did she mean by that? Susan shrugged it off for now. She was glad she’d packed a black dress. “We’ll be there with you.”

  “You don’t have to go!” said Audrey. “You didn’t even know her. You and Lynette should spend the afternoon at the beach with Annalise.”

  “No, Audrey,” replied Susan firmly. “We’re here to support you. Tomorrow will be difficult to get through. That’s what family is for.” She surprised herself when those words tumbled so easily from her mouth. She had been unsure how she’d feel when she met her birth mother, but she now realized a bond was forming.

  Chapter 7

  Is it morning already? Susan woke up under the mint green duvet and rolled over to look at the clock. School would be closing at two. The funeral was scheduled for three. She’d still be teaching most of her classes. She jumped in the shower and slipped on a black dress.

  Coffee. She could smell the delightful brew all the way upstairs. Thanks, Audrey.

  She popped a frozen muffin into the microwave and ate it as she walked to school. Students were already waiting outside her door when she arrived.

  “Let’s start with a few dictation exercises,” said Susan. Starr’s eyes were red. Bibi looked solemn; her hair was covered with a black hijab, and she wore a long black skirt. Susan knew the funeral would be tough for all the students.

  “Manolito. Put the phone away,” said Susan. Cellphones. Now that’s something she never had to deal with during her career.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Wiles. I was texting Trish to see if she was coming to the funeral. She and Mrs. Watkins were very close.” He sounded like he was about to cry.

  Susan felt a pang of guilt for thinking he was simply bored with class. “Do you expect her to come? Does she live nearby?”

  “She lives a few hours away in The Cottages. It’s in Central Florida.”

  “I don’t think she’s well enough yet,” said Bibi. “I hope this news doesn’t set her back. She loved Mrs. Watkins. They talked on the bench outside the auditorium almost every day.” Susan wondered if Trish’s overdose was connected to Celia’s death. If so, what was the common link?

  The morning flew by. Susan stopped at the cafeteria to buy lunch––spaghetti, meatballs, garlic bread, and cheesecake. She’d never had any luck kicking her habit of stress eating. At least the portions were small. She carried her tray to the teachers’ lounge and sat down with several faculty members. A handsome, olive-skinned gentleman introduced himself as Alonzo Benitez, the orchestra conductor. He spoke with a Spanish accent.

  “I can’t believe Celia is gone. She used to sit right in the seat you’re sitting in at lunch every day.” A chill ran up Susan’s spine. “So glad you could help us out,” he continued. “Poor Audrey. With all the chaos going on, at least she doesn’t have to worry about getting a substitute.”

  “Celia was one of a kind. I’m Robert Schwartz. Everyone calls me Schwartz––except for the students, that is.” A silver-haired man with twinkly blue eyes and a hint of a German accent extended a strong hand. “I teach European History.”

  “You were both close to Celia, I take it.”

  “She was a great person,” said Alonzo.

  Robert gazed at the floor. “Yes, she was a fine teacher. I never saw her outside of school.” He emphasized the word never.

  After lunch, Susan prepared for the chorus rehearsal. Teaching chorus had been her favorite part of her job. While waiting for the bell to ring, she overheard a conversation between two students.

  “That test was a killer. Just because Mr. Schwartz lives and breathes World War II doesn’t mean he should expect all of us to spit back a
ll those dates and things he gives us.”

  “You have to admit some of it’s fascinating,” said the other student. “Wish he didn’t test us on all of it though.”

  “He probably makes a lot of it up,” continued the first student. “Nazis hiding instruments in farm houses? Who’d ever know? Guess he won’t be hanging out at our rehearsals now that Mrs. Watkins is gone.” What did that mean? wondered Susan. Schwartz had acted like he and Celia were just casual acquaintances, so what was he doing hanging out at her chorus rehearsals?

  Susan got the rehearsal underway. While conducting, she glanced out the window. She saw Schwartz going into the auditorium. Why’s he going in there? The history building is the other direction. A few minutes later, she saw George going in after him. Strange again. Shouldn’t George be attending to the leaves that are littering the walkways, and the overgrown grass? She conducted her way through the rehearsal, then dismissed the students to attend the funeral. It would be an emotional afternoon for them, she knew. Celia Watkin’s death had shocked everyone Susan had spoken to. Just one more thing I need to do before I leave, she thought.

  Susan walked over to the auditorium and peeked in the window. The inside was dark and she was unable to see anything. She walked around front and pulled on the door handle. Unlocked. She stepped inside and scanned the lobby. Empty. Maybe they went into the auditorium. She walked up and down both aisles, checking each row of seats. Then, she went onto the stage and nosed around. Where did they go? She thought about checking the second floor, but heard the heavy exterior door slam shut before she reached the lobby.

  Chapter 8

  The packed church was oppressive under the weight of grief. Susan could hardly breathe. Annalise was squirming in Lynette’s arms, and Susan worried she’d soon start fussing. Looking down the pew and at the row in front of her, she couldn’t spot anyone who was not holding a tissue or wailing into a handkerchief. She saw Schwartz and Alonzo. Alonzo was keeping a firm face, but Schwartz was bawling like a kid who’d just dropped his ice cream out of the cone. It struck Susan as odd, remembering how he’d insisted that he’d never seen Celia outside of school.