A pat on her hand pulled Chelsea back from the painful memory and back to the present. Alex handed her a tissue, and Chelsea blotted her damp eyes and blew her nose. Dani passed her a cup of tea fixed the way Chelsea liked it, with a spoonful of honey, and set a plate of scones in front of her.
“I’m sorry. Sarah said she’s not going to play softball in the spring, and I’m worried that Coach Johnson did something to her.” Chelsea drank tea and took a bite of a scone. “Thanks, Dani. I’ve been upset since we talked to her this morning.”
“It’s hard losing someone the way you did with Amanda. Do you really think Coach did something to Sarah? Or could it be something as simple as needing money for school?” Dani asked.
She put oven mitts on and took the baked and golden pastries out of the oven. She held one side of the baking sheet and slid the parchment paper onto a cooling rack without disturbing the pastries. The baking sheet went into the dishwasher and Dani turned back to her sisters.
Chimes over the door sounded and they turned to see who came in. Detective Troy Collins held the door for BevAnne Wexler, and they entered laughing.
“My three favorite girls,” BevAnne exclaimed. She and Nana Jean had been best friends since they were both young married wives. BevAnne helped Nana Jean raise the girls after their parents were killed in a car accident with Grandpa Hal. BevAnne was the firm hand guiding them during that time of all-consuming grief, and she shared the parenting duties with Nana Jean. Long widowed herself, she had been a fixture in the Powell sisters’ lives since they were babies. Her continued presence and unconditional love were most welcome after Nana Jean’s death just over a year ago.
A chorus of greetings rang out, and Dani began fixing a pot of tea for BevAnne and Troy. He was a homicide detective with the Citrus Beach Police Department, and he and Dani began dating after meeting on a case the previous December.
“Are you hungry?” Dani asked. “If you are, I can put out sandwiches with the pastries I just baked.”
Alex and Chelsea prepared a tray with cups and saucers and a selection of tea. Dani warmed the teapot with hot water and wrapped it in a towel. Troy and BevAnne chose the same black tea, and Chelsea spooned loose tea leaves into the mesh strainer that fit into the pot.
After the teapot was warm, she poured out the water. Chelsea put in the tea-filled strainer and poured boiling water over the tea. She set a timer for four minutes of steeping. Then she placed the teapot on the kitchen counter, covering it with a quilted tea cozy.
They settled at a table. Troy said, “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, ladies. Coach Johnson has been killed.”
Mingled “Oh, no’s” and “When?” mixed with the timer beeping. Chelsea got up to remove the strainer and fetch the pot. Alex poured cups for everyone, and let each person add their own cream and sugar.
Chelsea had mixed emotions about the news. On the one hand, a murder was always tragic. On the other, had the killer dispensed justice they hadn’t found through legal channels?
“I’m here to talk to Chelsea and Alex. I know you were both at Orientation this morning. Did you see or hear anything suspicious?” Troy sampled a pastry and drank tea while he waited for their answers.
Alex answered first. “I was in and out of the cafeteria, unloading the SUV and bringing everything in. I stayed in during Orientation, then packed up and took everything back out. I only saw the people in the cafeteria, and Coach Johnson wasn’t there. What happened to him?”
“He was found in his office. They thought at first it was a heart attack, but after the medical examiner had the opportunity to look at him, she discovered he was killed by throat trauma,” Troy said.
“What does that mean? Was he choked to death?” Dani asked. She fiddled with her teaspoon, stirring the little bit of tea left in her cup before setting the spoon on the saucer.
“It appears as though someone threw a softball at his neck. The swelling cut off his ability to breathe. By the time help arrived, it was too late.” Troy paused for a moment and then resumed talking. “He was found by another teacher, Mrs. Garabedian.”
Alex said, “Chelsea, you saw her when you went to visit Mr. Seppi, didn’t you?”
“No,” Chelsea replied. “She wasn’t there when I went to her office.” She didn’t look up from the table.
“Did you talk to Coach Johnson?” Troy asked. He took out his notebook and pen.
Chelsea hesitated before answering. “No. He wasn’t at his desk, but I heard him arguing with someone, so I left.”
“What were they arguing about?”
“Money. The other man said something was too expensive and they’d have to kill it.”
“Do you know who he was talking to?”
“No, but it was a man. I didn’t recognize the voice, but it seemed familiar. It’s been so long since I went to school, and I’ve only been back a year.” Chelsea looked up. “I didn’t want him dead. I only wanted to talk to him about Sarah Malden.”
“About what? Was she having a problem with him?” Troy jotted a note, then referred back to another page. “Have you heard about anyone having a problem with him?”
Chelsea sighed. “My friend Amanda. I think she had a problem with him.”
Troy made another note, and said, “I’ll need her full name and address.”
The collective stillness at the table alerted him.
Chelsea said, “She’s dead. They said she committed suicide.”
“But you don’t think so.”
Chelsea shuddered with the effort to hold in tears. “No, I don’t think so. I didn’t believe the rumors then, and I still don’t.”
“Rumors?” He looked back at one page.
“That she was in love with him, he rejected her, and she killed herself. Her dad had just left, and she thought of Coach as a father. She wasn’t interested in boys, not that way.” Chelsea tugged an ear. “We had a group of friends, boys and girls. We didn’t date, we’d just hang out, go to movies, things like that.”
“I heard you liked Coach Johnson. He was your coach for softball, right? Wasn’t there an argument between you and Amanda about him?”
Chelsea flushed. “He was my coach. I didn’t ‘like him-like him.’ Amanda died a few months after my parents and Grandpa Hal were killed, and I didn’t play softball that season. She and I never argued about a boy, and definitely not about the coach.”
BevAnne had a question for Troy. “Who told you Chelsea and Amanda argued over Coach Johnson? Seems like they’re trying to stir up trouble.”
Troy didn’t answer right away. He seemed to be mulling over BevAnne’s question. “I’d rather not say at this point.” He got up to leave.
“Thank you, ladies, for the hospitality. Alex and Chelsea, I’d like you to come to the sheriff’s department tomorrow. I can take your formal statements there.”
Dani got up with him. They moved to the door together. She hugged him goodbye and they kissed before he left.
She came back to the table and started clearing dishes. “Well, what do we think? Chelsea, do you think you might recognize the voice if you heard it again?”
“I think so. It sounded familiar but I couldn’t place it. Do you have a way to figure out who it was?”
“Yes.”
Chapter 3
Tuesday morning
Chelsea and Alex went to the Citrus Beach Sheriff’s Department together. It served the unincorporated portions of the county and assisted local police as needed. The department was housed in a bunker, which protected it during hurricane season. Earth berms were built up against the building’s east side, with only high windows showing.
The main entrance was on the west side. They entered, and Chelsea picked up the phone near the unmanned reception window. The phone automatically dialed reception, and the voice on the other end asked, “Who are you here to see?”
“Detective Collins.”
“Have a seat. Someone will be with you momentarily.”
; Chelsea and Alex sat in the small waiting area. Several televisions showed mug shots of people wanted for crimes, with the number to call on a scroll below the picture.
A heavy door unlocked, and Troy came through to escort them back to his office. Alex had been there before to attend the Citizen’s Police Academy, but that was before Troy moved there from New York. She had not been in the office area where Troy took them now.
He motioned for them to sit but he remained standing. “I want you to look at a surveillance tape from yesterday. Let me know if you recognize anyone.”
The black and white footage began. A hall with lockers and classroom doors was full of people walking. It was hard to pick out individuals from the crowd in the hall, but as people moved into classrooms and only a few were left, it became easier to determine who people were.
Chelsea recognized Mrs. Garabedian. She saw Mr. Seppi walk out of his classroom and walk to the men’s room. She saw herself walk to Mr. Seppi’s class, look in, and leave.
The footage jumped and she saw the hall outside Coach Johnson’s office. Again, she saw herself approach the door, but this time she waited a moment before leaving. Chelsea knew she’d heard the voice before of the man arguing with Coach Johnson, and wished she could remember who it was. Chelsea leaned forward, anxious to see if she recognized a killer.
The hall was empty for several minutes. A man came through Coach Johnson’s office and walked towards the cafeteria and the administration offices.
“I know who I heard arguing with Coach Johnson,” Chelsea blurted. “I heard his voice,” and she pointed to the screen.
“Who is it?” Troy asked.
“Principal Black.” Chelsea sat back in her seat.
Alex said, “Why would he kill Coach Johnson? They’ve been friends forever, they went to school together.”
“I don’t know yet,’’ Troy said. “But I will, and you can help.”
Chapter 4
Tuesday, late morning
Chelsea and Alex left the sheriff’s department. Chelsea dropped Alex off at Beach Tea Shop, and gathered her strength to do what Troy had asked her to do. She drove to a house she knew well.
She was nervous. What if they didn’t find out the answers they needed? Her palms were sweaty and her mouth was dry. She hadn’t been to this house, where she was once treated like family, ever since Joshua blamed her for his sister’s death.
She pulled into the driveway and hoped no one would be home. There was no shame in not finding out what Troy wanted her to, if no one was home.
There was a car in the garage. An older model sedan, not something she thought Joshua would drive. Did he live there, or had he moved out? She was about to find out.
Chelsea walked on brick pavers shaded by a pergola covered by bleeding heart vines. The flowers on either side of the pathway were beautiful. Mrs. Duncan was always an avid gardener. At least that hadn’t changed. Soft fragrance from herbs planted among the flowers tickled her nose and she sneezed.
Great. She was too close to the door to go back to the car for a tissue. She didn’t want to ring the bell while she was sniffling.
Too late. The door was opening. Mrs. Duncan looked out, and called, “Chelsea! Is that really you? Come in, dear.”
Chelsea’s fear of a frosty reception was allayed by Mrs. Duncan’s warm greeting. The hardest part was still ahead.
They hugged, and Mrs. Duncan guided her inside and back to the kitchen. The house was just as Chelsea remembered, and yet, it wasn’t. The difference was Amanda’s absence. Chelsea didn’t think she’d ever been in the home when Amanda wasn’t, until now. She sniffled; she really needed a tissue.
Mrs. Duncan pointed to a tissue box on the small counter under the wall-mounted telephone. “Help yourself. I planted a box of random plants someone gave me, and something in there makes people sneeze. How have you been?”
“Fine, Mrs. Duncan. I’ve missed you.” Chelsea had considered Mrs. Duncan a second mother; soon after losing her own, she’d lost her other mother, too. Tears welled up in her eyes. She tried to control her breathing so she wouldn’t cry.
“It’s okay, dear. I miss her, too,” Mrs. Duncan said. “I think I’m fine, and some little thing will set me off. Joshua has been a blessing for me. If I hadn’t had him, I don’t know what I would have done.” She gestured to the sofa in the great room. “Have a seat.”
Chelsea looked around. “Is he here?” She settled into the sofa, and it felt like home again.
“No, he has his own home. He’s married and has a little daughter named Olivia. I’m a grandma!” Mrs. Duncan pulled a small photo album towards them to show off her adorable granddaughter. Every picture featured a smiling toddler, and some also had a young man and woman. Chelsea couldn’t believe the change in Joshua.
He wasn’t the angry young man Chelsea remembered. He seemed settled, but most of all, he seemed happy. Chelsea was glad for him.
“Mrs. Duncan, I came here to ask you a few questions if you don’t mind.” Nerves trembled in her voice, and Chelsea concentrated on not giving in to them.
“Yes, dear, I suppose that’s all right. Before we start, would you like something to drink? I can offer you a soft drink or tea, if you’d prefer something hot.” Mrs. Duncan put the photo album away and stepped to the refrigerator, poised to get Chelsea’s beverage of choice.
“No, thank you. I’m fine.” Chelsea thought how polite they were being. Stilted formality had replaced casual affection.
Mrs. Duncan sat down across from Chelsea. She smoothed her skirt over her knees, and folded her hands in her lap. Chelsea could see the effort she was making to calm herself, and thought they could use a shot of whiskey to fortify them.
“Have you heard that Coach Johnson was killed?” Chelsea asked. She didn’t want to make assumptions. It was possible Mrs. Duncan had asked friends not to mention his name around her.
“I did. I would have worried that Joshua had done it, if it happened right after Amanda…” She took a tissue and pressed it into the corners of her eyes. “Sorry. I try not to think about that time, just remember Amanda’s spirit.”
“Me, too.” Chelsea leaned forward and clasped her hands in front of her. “I still think about her, and I miss her.” Both women cried, and then blew their noses at the same time. Watery laughter eased the tension.
“Can you tell me what happened? Thirteen years ago I was sixteen, but it was so soon after my parents were in the car accident when I heard about Amanda. I never believed it. I always thought Coach Johnson did something to her.”
Mrs. Duncan said, “I knew you’d had words with him. I thought, ‘Chelsea is a good friend to stand up for Amanda.’ It couldn’t have been easy for you, and I regret that I let you stay out of my life.” She took another tissue and just held it in her hands.
“I heard about my daughter from the police. They said Amanda committed suicide, and left a note saying she didn’t want to live if she couldn’t be with that man. Nothing about it made sense. Not her death. And especially not that note.”
“Did the police tell you where the note was? Besides the fact Amanda never thought of him that way, why would anyone think she did?” Chelsea could feel herself settling down. After all these years, she was finally taking action. Maybe nothing would come of it, but at least she was trying.
“They said it was on the coach’s desk. He looked for her in the locker room after he read the note.” Mrs. Duncan’s voice trailed away. “I never thought about why she would leave a suicide note on his desk. I was too focused on her being gone, and I had other concerns.” She hesitated, and looked at Chelsea.
“I’ve never told anyone what happened after the police left. A man came to visit, to offer his condolences, and to see if he could help in any way. He asked if putting Joshua on the football team his freshman year would help him get over his sister’s death.”
Chelsea was appalled. “Who was stupid enough to think a brother ever gets over his teenage sister’s death?
Was he bribing you?”
“Yes, those were my thoughts. My ex-husband was with me, and he thought that was an excellent idea. He wanted the shame of his daughter’s suicide and inappropriate feelings towards a married man swept under the rug. It was all about how it made him look.” She took a sip from the glass of water that was on the table next to her chair.
“I talked to Joshua. It gave him something to look forward to. He was so angry then. I know he spoke harshly to you, and I’m sorry for that. Sorry that I let him, sorry that I haven’t talked to you since then. It wasn’t your fault. He was lashing out.”
“I know. At least, I know it now. At the time, I was shattered and thought I deserved it. Maybe if I’d been around more, I might have been able to do something and she’d still be alive,” Chelsea said. “But I never thought she did it. I thought someone killed her.”
“Yes, dear, I did too. The man who stopped by also said he’d overheard an argument between you and Amanda. Supposedly you were fighting over Coach Johnson.” She looked at Chelsea to gauge her reaction, and smiled. “I see this comes as news to you, as it did to me. Again, I can only say that at the time I was still in shock. I didn’t examine his statements for truth, because I couldn’t imagine why he would lie to me.”
“Who came to your house?” Chelsea asked. She wanted it to be the same man she’d seen on the surveillance tape leaving the coach’s office.
“Principal Black,” Mrs. Duncan said. She paused. “You don’t look surprised. Why not, dear?”
“I’ll tell you more in a few days, but for now I can say that law enforcement is looking at him. He’s a person of interest in Coach Johnson’s death.”
Chapter 5
Tuesday afternoon
Chelsea left Mrs. Duncan and drove to BevAnne’s home. Chelsea and her sisters had lived with BevAnne while renovations to Nana Jean’s home were being completed. They’d recently moved back to their grandmother’s home, but BevAnne insisted they keep their keys, “Just in case.”
Happy Homicides 4: Fall Into Crime: Includes Happy Homicides 3: Summertime Crimes Page 5