"Oh, that's Mr. Barnes's. I think he purchased it recently. He's been a big help to me today. I didn't realize he was still here, though. Must be working on lesson plans." Principal Matthews looked down at the notes on his desk, and Emily and Tad took that as their cue to leave.
Once they were back out in the hallway, Tad headed to the main doors, but Emily turned to the stairs. "Where are you going?"
Tad looked exasperated, but Emily gave him a grim smile. "To find out why Mr. Barnes has been here all day, that's where." She continued up the stairs and was not surprised to hear Tad following her. She was grateful for his presence when she reached the second floor. She didn't want to look in the direction of the copy room, but her eyes had other ideas. As if drawn by a magnet, her head swiveled in that direction. Yellow crime scene tape still sealed off the room, denying anyone access. Emily felt sick to her stomach when she thought of what the cleaning crew would have to deal with. She shuddered, feeling a bit faint. Tad placed his hand on the small of her back, urging her toward the other end of the hall. She knew he was trying to comfort her, and while she appreciated his efforts, it would be some time before she would feel comfortable going anywhere near that copy room.
A light shone under Mr. Barnes's door. Emily had never particularly liked Mr. Barnes. He was one of those obnoxious know-it-alls. He rubbed everyone the wrong way, maybe due to his penchant for correcting people on any and every thing, every chance he got. Especially in front of a crowd. This definitely made for some fun faculty meetings. Jim had been the one who could lighten the mood with a joke or two when Mr. Barnes was on a roll. Everyone knew that Mr. Barnes was not a fan of Coach Layton. Jim hadn't seemed to care one way or the other, and Emily had admired that about him. As for Mr. Barnes, she had yet to find anything to admire, and she had looked. She had been taught to always look for the best in people. But Mr. Barnes was a black hole, devoid of positive qualities. He definitely knew his stuff chemistry-wise, but his personality was off-putting to students too. They took his classes only because they had to.
Emily and Tad could see through the small window in his door that Mr. Barnes was working at his computer, his back to them. Tad was going to knock, but Emily turned the doorknob instead. She was surprised to find it locked.
Mr. Barnes started and turned to glare at them when he heard them rattling his door. He stomped over and pulled the door open a crack. "What do you two want?"
"Nice to see you too, Mr. Barnes," Emily said pleasantly as she forced her way past him, Tad on her heels. "You've certainly been working hard today, haven't you? Principal Matthews said you've been here all day."
"Is there a crime against wanting to be prepared, Ms. Taylor? Some of us don't wait until the last minute to get our things organized for class." He pointedly stared at Emily. She could feel her cheeks getting warm and figured they now looked like a baby's butt with a severe diaper rash, but, man, did this guy know how to push her buttons or what? She started to tell him exactly what she thought of his "preparedness" but felt Tad's hand on her back again. This time the gesture was not meant for comfort but as a warning. She silently fumed while Mr. Barnes watched her with his cold, beady eyes. He reminded her of a rat. A big rat. A big, ugly rat. A big, ugly rat that she would like to catch in a trap. Then she would…
Tad interrupted her silent tirade against Mr. Barnes, and their staring contest, by pointing to the windows and asking, "Hey, Richard, Principal Matthews said the Cobra out in the parking lot is yours. When did you get her? She sure is a beauty." He and Barnes headed toward the windows to check out the "beauty." Emily didn't bother to move. "Why are cars always referred to by feminine pronouns?" she asked instead.
"You're the English teacher—you tell us," was Barnes's reply.
Emily fought an internal battle between walking out the door or beaning Barnes with one of his own textbooks. She settled for the former, making her way down to her own room. That jerk was right about one thing, she fumed, unlocking her own door and flipping on the lights. She did need to prepare for tomorrow. She still hadn't made copies of that quiz, but the thought of going near the copy room caused her to feel faint again. She fell into her desk chair, sticking her head between her knees, deciding she would run the copies off on her own printer instead. What was the cost of a little paper and ink as opposed to her health and well-being, right?
A few minutes later, Tad found her still sitting with her head between her legs. "How's the view down there?"
Emily flipped her head back up and then wished she hadn't as the room spun from the head rush. "I've never noticed before how intricate the tile work is on our floors. You should check it out sometime. When you're not bonding over your lust for sports cars with Richard Barnes, that is."
Tad pulled up a student desk, planting his rear on the top of it and his feet in the seat. "Well, if you hadn't run out so fast, you could have heard the interesting gossip Richard had to share."
"I would never let my students sit in their desks that way. Off." Emily snapped her fingers at Tad like he was an unruly student. "But I'll let it go—for now—if you'll tell me what you found out."
"Gee, thanks, Teach. OCD much?" Tad leaned against the wall instead, watching her meticulously align the desk back in its proper row. Emily simply ignored him. "Okay, here's the deal," Tad continued. "A couple of days ago, as Richard was heading out for the day, he overheard two people arguing in Helen's office. "
"And naturally, being him, he eavesdropped…" The slimy, sneaking rat, she added in her head.
"Right. So he says Helen was arguing with Coach Layton. He never really heard what they were arguing about, but he says he heard something about going to the police with the information."
Tad crossed his arms, looking very proud of himself. Emily stared right through him, thinking about what Barnes had overheard. "What information? Which one wanted to go to the police?" she asked.
Tad's face fell. "I don't know. I didn't ask about that part. But he did say that he hasn't seen Helen today and that he's already told the police about the argument he overhead."
At the mention of the police, Emily hopped up like a jack-in-the-box. "That reminds me. I was supposed to stop by the station and sign my statement this afternoon." She made a beeline for the door.
"Your carriage awaits, madam," Tad quipped as he followed her out, turning the lights off behind them.
* * *
Emily chewed her thumbnail as Tad drove through the gathering darkness. The rain was finally letting up, but the day was drawing to a close. Emily was silent as Tad pulled up in front of the brick building which housed Ellington's finest.
Tad tapped her shoulder, forcing her to face him. "Want me to go in with you?" Emily nodded. She hadn't wanted Tad to know how nervous she was. It wasn't that she was guilty of anything, unless sarcasm was a crime. It was that being here, signing a statement, reminded her of finding Jim all over again. And to top off her worry tank, there was Helen's disappearance. "Should we say anything about not being able to locate Helen?" Emily asked Tad as they headed toward the glass double doors.
Tad motioned for her to go ahead. "I think we'd better say as little as possible. We don't want to cast unfair aspersions." Only Tad could get away with using such a hoity-toity word as "aspersions."
"What?" he asked. Emily ignored him, going up to the front counter to announce herself. Detective Gangly-Arms himself came out of a back room as Emily was reviewing her statement.
"Anything you want to add? Anything else you remember?" he asked her.
She shook her head regretfully. The thought of Helen missing ping-ponged around in her brain, but she ignored it. Instead she blurted out, "We did just have a conversation with Richard Barnes up at the school, though. Did you happen to see that brand-new Cobra he's driving? I can't help wondering how he came up with the money to buy that. I mean, I'm a teacher too, and I sure couldn't afford that kind of car, know what I mean?"
Tad was staring at her open-mouthed and Detect
ive Gangly-Arms glowered at her from under lowered eyebrows. "What exactly are you trying to say, Ms. Taylor? Is there a reason that we should be looking closer at Richard Barnes? If you know something, you better tell me."
Emily blushed. No, she didn't have any hard evidence, but if being a smarmy, repulsive rodent wasn't reason enough, well…what could she say?
"We'll be going now. Thank you for your time, Detective." Tad took her by the elbow and guided her none too gently out the doors. Once they were out of hearing, Emily shook free of his viselike grip. "What was that about?" he asked her. "You made Richard sound like some kind of criminal."
"For all we know, he is. He's the most loathsome creature I've ever met. Aren't you the teensiest bit curious as to how he can afford that kind of car on the salary we make?"
Tad didn't answer her. He moved around to the driver's side of the car and got in. Emily had no choice but to follow suit. "Well?" she prompted once she was buckled in.
Tad waited until they were underway to answer. "I guess I am a little curious. But you had no reason to make him sound guilty of something. Is this because you're worried Helen is involved somehow?"
"No!" Emily pushed at her hair, shrugging at the confines of her seat belt. "Okay, maybe a little. What other explanation do we have?" Emily flounced back in her seat, stung by the fact that maybe Tad was right. Darn it all, the truth really did hurt, didn't it? She might have been a smidge out of line, but Barnes was, and always would be, a snake in her book. Maybe he hadn't killed Jim, but she'd wager her second-best Care Bears lunchbox that he was guilty of some kind of crime, even if it was just being a nasty human being.
Emily was still pouting at being called out when they pulled up in front of Cruise's Hardware. "Listen, Em," Tad started, trying to smooth things over, "I know how worried you are about Helen. I am too. You've been through a lot today. Why don't you go home and try to get some rest?" Emily realized she was bone-weary, but the thought of going back to her empty duplex didn't sound too appealing. For Tad's sake, she nodded and trudged toward her own car.
"Good luck with Duke," she called back over her shoulder before driving away. She had gone less than a block when her phone started blaring out Ozzy Osbourne's "Crazy Train." Emily scooped it up from the center console, seeing from the caller ID display that it was Gabby.
"Hey," she answered.
"Hey, back. You sound wiped. Some day, huh?" She and Gabriella "Gabby" Spencer had been best friends since kindergarten when Emily had punched Buddy Lines in the nose for trying to kiss Gabby on the playground. They had had each other's backs ever since.
"Yeah, some day." Emily's weariness was growing by the second.
"You sound tired, so you might not be interested, but I was calling to invite you over for dinner in case you didn't want to be alone." The invitation perked Emily up. After graduation, while Emily had headed off to college to pursue her dream of becoming a teacher, Gabby had married her high school sweetheart, Greg Spencer, and settled comfortably into the role of wife and mother. Emily was godmother to their adorable twin girls, Abigail and Phoebe, who were now two-year-old bundles of joy, or terror, depending on the day. Being surrounded by Gabby's crazy, loud, loving family sounded much better than spending the night alone.
"What can I bring?"
"Just yourself. See you around 7:00." Seeing she still had an hour, Emily decided to swing by home to see if Helen had surfaced. She was disappointed to see both sides of the duplex dark as she pulled up. To be sure, she walked around to check Helen's carport. Nope, still empty. Maybe her mom had heard something.
Emily let herself in her front door and locked it securely behind her. Even though her duplex was as cozy and warm as usual, she shivered. She couldn't get past the idea that there was a murderer out there somewhere and wondered if she would ever truly feel safe again. Trying to stave off the unsettling feeling, Emily switched on a few lights and headed into the kitchen for her own form of fortification. Yep, caffeine. She settled into her breakfast nook, admiring her row of vintage lunchboxes parading around the top of the kitchen cabinets. Although she had barely been born in the '80s, she loved everything about the decade. Every one of her lunchboxes on display hearkened back to the era of big hair, neon colors, and parachute pants. Okay, maybe she didn't love the fashion sense of the '80s, but she definitely loved the cartoons. Smiling back at a friendly My Little Pony, she dialed her mom.
She answered on the first ring. "How're you doing, Em? Is everything okay? Any news? Do you want to come over for supper?"
"Okay. I guess so. Not that I've been told. And thanks, but Gabby invited me to eat at her house." Talking with her mom should be an Olympic sport, she decided. How many questions can someone ask you before you can no longer remember and answer them in the correct order? "Actually, Mom, the reason I was calling was to see if you had heard from Helen today."
"Helen? No. I haven't heard a word from her since our landscape painting class Tuesday evening. Isn't she home?"
Emily explained about Duke and how no one had seen Helen since the end of the school day yesterday. Her mom was quiet for so long, Emily finally prompted "Mom?" to the silent line.
"I'm worried, Em. Helen would never leave Duke without food or water like that. Something has to be wrong. Should we call the police and file a missing person's report?"
Emily hesitated. Would pointing out Helen's absence to the police cast suspicion on her? "I'm not sure, Mom. Surely she'll turn up soon." Emily didn't want to upset her mom further by mentioning the argument Barnes had supposedly overheard between Helen and Jim. Emily didn't think they should put much stock in anything the slimeball had to say, anyway.
"Call me the minute you hear something. And give those girls of Gabby's a kiss for me." Emily assured her mom she would. Checking the clock, she realized that time had, as usual, gotten away from her. She scurried around, changing clothes, running a brush through her hair, and at the last minute, going back to leave a few lights burning so she didn't have to come home to a dark house. I'm like the White Rabbit in Alice in Wonderland, Emily thought as she pulled out of her drive. I'm always late, late for a very important date. Wishing she had fallen through the looking glass and this whole day would turn out to be a dream, Emily headed toward Gabby's big, farm-style home on the edge of town.
* * *
Welcoming lights glowed in the large picture windows framing the front of the house. Walking up the sidewalk, Emily could see Abigail and Phoebe playing what looked to be a game of tea party. She could hear them giggling and Gabby singing in the kitchen. Emily felt a stab of longing. Yes, she was happy with her life, but at times like this, she envied Gabby her perfect little family. Still, she knew by the time she left, a dose of the twin tornadoes would leave her thankful for the peace and quiet of her own small abode. Inhaling a bracing breath of the cold, damp air, she pushed her way through the door and into the warmth, craziness, and cacophony. Dexter, the Spencers' spoiled dalbrador, came nosing up for a scratch, sniffing to see if she came bearing food. Disappointed when he didn't find any, he ambled away, only to be replaced by two monkeys crawling all over Emily, pulling at her pockets, and sticking a tiara on her head.
"Tea party! Princess!" Phoebe chirped.
"You be princess. We princesses. Right, Mommy?" Abigail chimed in. Gabby reached down to help Emily off with her coat as the girls had already pulled her to the floor to join them. She gave Emily a what can you do shrug and sat down too.
Abigail, her dark curls swinging, played the part of hostess until she tired of the game and ran off to play with the pile of denuded Barbies in the girls' play alcove. Phoebe hugged Emily tightly before scurrying off to join her sister.
"Spill." Gabby was perched on the edge of her seat, eager to hear the latest news.
"Well, first of all…" Emily trailed off as her phone began to ring, the sound muffled by her purse. "Sorry, Gabby, but I'd better check this. It's been a weird day." She finally managed to free her phone from the clin
ging receipts and debris covering the depths of her purse and checked to see who was calling. She stabbed the answer button. "What's wrong, Mom?" she asked without preamble.
"I'm sorry to bother you while you're at Gabby's, but I wanted you to know that I went ahead and called the police station." Of course you did, Emily thought. Out loud, she said, "What'd you find out?"
"Nothing! That Detective Welks," Gangly-Arms, Emily silently amended, "told me that Helen hasn't been missing long enough to file a missing person's report. I had the distinct impression that he was trying to get me off the phone. He wasn't listening to me at all!"
Her mom was on the verge of tears, and Emily wasn't sure what to say or do. Finally she settled on, "How about we give it until tomorrow morning? If Helen's still not back by then, I'll go down to the station with you to file a formal report."
This seemed to mollify her mom a little. She was still sniffling but seemed calmer as they said their good-byes and hung up. Gabby immediately pounced, "What was that all about? Where's Helen? How does this relate to Jim Layton's death?"
Emily took a gulp of wine from the glass Gabby handed her. "Gabby, you sound like Mom right now."
Gabby had the good grace to look embarrassed. She settled back into her comfy chair. "Sorry, when you're ready to talk, I'm ready to listen."
Emily went through the entire story, including finding Duke and the trip she and Tad had made to the school and the police station. "So, I think Barnes is involved somehow. I don't know where Helen is, but I know she's no killer," she finally concluded.
Gabby shook back her hair and checked to see that the twins were still playing peacefully. "I don't know, Em. I feel like you're telling me the plot of a mystery novel you just read. All of this"—she waved her hands over her head as if encompassing the whole ordeal—"seems unbelievable. This is Ellington, for goodness' sake. Nothing exciting ever happens here, unless you count Old Man Fillmore streaking through the town square after he'd had too much to drink last New Year's Eve."
Murder Is Our Mascot Page 3