Marla gulped, confession time at hand. “I went to your high school yesterday to speak to the principal about school security.”
“Why am I not surprised? I hope you won’t become one of those helicopter moms.”
“Your safety concerns me, and rightfully so. How did your day go?”
“Everybody was freaked out about Mr. Ripari’s death. The school has counselors available.”
“I hope you’ll take advantage if you need to talk about it,” Marla told her. “Your dad and I are here for you, too.”
“Thanks, but I can take care of myself.”
“I know, but I’ll feel safer when the criminal is behind bars.”
“I’m working my own angle, Marla. Stay away.”
“What does that mean?” She put the pan into the dish drainer and dried her hands.
“I’m trying to get to know those kids better, the ones who helped us at the haunted house. Maybe I can learn something important.”
Dalton rose, an ominous fold between his brows. “You keep your nose out of this, muffin. I’ll handle it.”
Marla staved off the rising tension by raising her hand in a stop signal. “Look, let’s each do what we can, and we’ll reconvene a council on Sunday to discuss our findings. Dalton, your daughter is in a good position to find out more about the students, as long as she’s careful. I can tackle the parent angle. You look up the property’s history. We’ll get more done as a team.”
Brianna smirked at her dad. “See, Marla appreciates me.”
Dalton winced. “I hope we’re not encouraging another amateur sleuth in the family. One of you is enough to give me gray hair.”
“Your hair is already turning silver, Dad, and that change started years ago. This murder case isn’t even assigned to your district, so you can’t blame us for interfering. Any snooping on your part puts you in the same class.”
Marla gave Brianna a packaged snack of fruit and nuts for her to add to her bag. “Speaking of classes, who’s taking over for Mr. Ripari?”
“They’ve brought in a substitute. Mrs. Krizelman has taught our class before. I don’t know if she’ll stay for the next semester, though.”
“So none of the other teachers are qualified to teach his classes?”
“It’s possible, but their schedules might be full.”
“That would eliminate professional competition as a motive.” Marla, hearing the dogs bark, let them in from the fenced backyard and threw them each a biscuit.
Dalton grabbed his key ring from a hook by the garage door. “Come on, Brie. I’ll give you a ride to the bus stop on my way out.”
“Wait,” Marla said, a sudden thought occurring to her. “Isn’t there a football game tomorrow?”
“Yes, it’s a home game.” Brianna’s face brightened as she caught the drift. “Oh, you think we should go and use the opportunity to question people.”
“What time does it start? I’ll have to juggle my appointments.”
“I think it’s an afternoon game. I can check and send you a text.”
“Great. Dalton, can you clear your schedule to go?” Marla bent to scratch Spooks behind his ear when the poodle poked her ankle with his long snout.
“I’ll make time. It would be a good chance to interview the people involved. Good idea, ladies.”
Marla’s pulse accelerated at the thought of attending a high school football game. It had been eons since she’d gone to one. At least Brianna liked team sports. The girl could be bookish, but acting classes got her out of the house as did softball, when in season.
~*~
Saturday afternoon turned out to be a perfect day for a football game. Marla wore a comfy short-sleeved top, jeans, and ankle boots. She’d bought the latter on her dude ranch honeymoon in Arizona and loved them. Actually, she’d loved everything about that trip to meet Dalton’s extended family, except for the murders. Tromping through the dirt to the bleachers reminded her of the rodeo there.
“I stopped by Hannah Westfield’s house yesterday on my way to work,” Marla announced, after Dalton had bought a trio of hot dogs and they’d taken seats to watch the game in progress. “She said Vicki Sweetwater had some sort of influence over Bill Ripari. Her daughter, Rose, got good grades in his class. Rose belongs to the drama club. Why haven’t you joined, Brie? You take acting classes. I’d think it would interest you.”
Her eyes shielded behind designer sunglasses, Brianna tilted her head. “I don’t want to act in school plays or do live theater. If I were serious, I’d sign with a casting agent and go to auditions for film or TV gigs. My real goal is to improve my public speaking, so I can apply for the debate team next year.”
“Really?” Dalton raised his eyebrows. “I had no idea. You’ll be great.”
Marla had no doubts about that statement. Brianna knew how to win an argument.
She wiped a smear of mustard off her mouth. Eating a hot dog at a sports game was the best part of being there. “So this Rose, do you know her well?” she asked the teen.
Brianna shrugged her slim shoulders. “Rose hangs out with Shaun from the football team. We don’t run in the same crowd.”
“Aren’t you in history class with her?”
“No, she must have it another period. How does she interest you?”
“I’m wondering why Hannah said Rose’s mother is overprotective.”
“That’s not unusual. Most moms are protective of their daughters.”
“Yes, but I have a feeling something else is going on here. Anyway, listen to this.” Marla peered around to make sure nobody else was taking an interest in their conversation. “When I walked by the boys’ locker room, I overheard a conversation between two kids. One of them mentioned pills the coach was giving him.”
“What kind of pills?” Dalton demanded. A gust of wind tossed his hair, giving him an endearingly tousled look.
Marla ignored the sudden rush of heat that swept from her toes on up. She fixed her gaze on his molten steel eyes. “I don’t know, but the boy isn’t well. He’s afraid to tell the coach for fear he’ll be kicked off the team. Maybe it’s vitamins, and I’m being an alarmist.”
“Or not. I wonder if that kid was in Ripari’s class.”
“Why would it matter?”
“If the history teacher noticed the boy was ill and suspected the coach’s involvement, it could provide a motive.”
Brianna, finished with her hot dog, crumpled her napkin and stood. “I can find out. My friends are over there.”
Marla followed the direction of her glance and noted Andy’s tall frame and his head of sandy hair. Surrounded by a couple of other guys, he was looking their way.
Uh-oh. Trouble is brewing in teenage land. Marla hadn’t given a second thought to what Brianna had worn to the game, but now she observed the girl’s tight jeans and even tighter knit top. When had she started filling out like that? Marla shot her husband a glance, but thankfully he appeared oblivious.
“Go on.” Marla shooed Brianna toward her friends, wondering if it was time for that talk with the girl. This was a wrinkle of motherhood she hadn’t anticipated. To distract Dalton, she turned to him and babbled on regarding the school visit she’d made.
A gaggle of girls nearby shrieked at a move on the football field. Marla, lacking any comprehension of the game play, blocked them out. The sun warmed her shoulders, energizing her after the stress from the past couple of days.
“So let’s count the suspects,” Dalton said, ticking off each one on his fingers. “As far as teachers go, there’s Coach Garsen. He was present the night of the murder and might have a motive, if what I’m thinking is true.”
“Don’t forget Principal Underwood. He might not have been at the house, but he could have paid someone to do the dirty deed. The school is a contender for Mr. Ripari’s estate. Who’s the executor, do you know?”
“The crime just happened on Wednesday, Marla. I’ve been busy doing other things, since this isn’t my case. But I di
d dig deeper into the house’s history. It’s quite interesting. A man named Frank Conroy bought a large amount of agricultural land in western Broward in the 1930s. But after a particularly long drought one year, he sold most of his holdings.”
“The janitor said Mr. Ripari’s uncle might have secretly married one of the Conroy girls, and that would mean his estate should go to them.”
“Let me continue. One of Conroy’s biggest buyers was William Ripari, Senior, who built a large homestead on his two-hundred-acre purchase. Conroy blamed Ripari for greasing the hands of water management and diverting canals from being built so far out west. His lands might have prospered otherwise. Instead, he had to sell them at a reduced price.”
“So that might account for bad blood between the families.” Marla sat back as a couple of adults jostled down their row, arms laden with popcorn buckets and soft drinks. The smell of popped kernels made her hungry again. Or maybe being outdoors in the sun and fresh air stimulated her appetite. She watched strapping young men running on the field while referees blew whistles. A horn sounded as the scoreboard changed.
“I’m not done,” Dalton said. “Eventually, Ripari Senior leased his territory to entrepreneurs for a pioneer theme park, with the caveat that his house be preserved. The park closed in 1964. At that time, his son Joseph Ripari tore down the tourist attractions and converted the original house into a restaurant. This lasted until he died and the restaurant closed.”
Marla drew her own conclusions. “So our Mr. Ripari inherited the place but did nothing in the way of renovations. Didn’t he have any siblings?”
“He was an only child, and the bloodline ended with him. He had an aunt, but she died childless. His uncle was killed in Vietnam.”
“So how did those rumors about a marriage get started?”
“Conroy’s daughter Janet was seen in the company of Ripari Senior’s son, Nathan. The kid was drafted to Vietnam and didn’t make it back.”
“And people think Janet and Nathan might have secretly gotten married before he went overseas?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time a hasty wedding took place during wartime.”
“Okay, even if this union could be validated, how would it make the Conroys heirs to the estate?”
“I did find a record for the original William Ripari’s will. It states that his property should pass to all married children equally, and from them to their descendants. Your history teacher was the sole living heir.”
Marla bit her lower lip, ignoring the shrieks and chatter around them. “Neither his aunt nor his uncle had married, as far as anyone knew. If Janet had gotten pregnant—”
“Her child could claim the estate, assuming he had proof of his legitimacy.”
“But you found no record of Janet’s marriage to Nathan? The license would have been recorded somewhere.”
“Maybe they married out of town. Remember, she’d have been afraid of her father’s reaction. He could have forced an annulment if he found out.”
“Then Nathan must have kept a copy for safekeeping. His belongings would have been stored at the house, if that’s where he’d been living before he shipped out.”
Their eyes met. If any proof existed, it might lie among the dusty bric-a-brac in the history teacher’s neglected estate.
Marla fell silent, watching the game and the glee of the observers. Her glance slid toward Brianna, who’d taken a seat next to Andy. Good, the teen wasn’t engaged in interrogating her fellow students. This case had become more complex. The more she learned, the more confused she got as to who might have killed the poor history teacher.
“Oh, there’s one of the moms,” she said, waving her hand excitedly at the woman. “I’m going to run over for a chat.”
Dalton gazed at her askance. “You’re leaving me here alone?”
“You’ll manage. You did okay before I came along.” He must have attended school functions on his own between when his first wife died and when he met Marla. A single dad like Dalton would have attracted female attention. After giving him a proprietary pat on the shoulder, she advanced down the bleacher row, careful to avoid people’s feet.
Marla chatted briefly with the other mother before asking if the woman knew Vicki Sweetwater. “I understand her daughter is in the drama club. Mine is interested in joining.”
“You’re in luck, Marla. Vicki is here today. Everybody comes out for the home games.”
Marla’s cheeks heated. She should have come before this, but she’d avoided getting further involved in parental functions. It was time to own up to her responsibilities in that regard.
Pointed in Vicki’s direction by her friend, Marla headed that way. Vicki wasn’t hard to identify. She had straight black hair, heavily lined cocoa brown eyes, and an outfit that showed she was trying too hard to fit in with the younger generation. Creases framed her eyes as she smiled at Marla in friendly greeting.
“Marla, isn’t it? We spoke briefly at the haunted house. That night ended so tragically. I’m sorry we didn’t have a chance to talk more then. Rose has mentioned you.”
“Has she? In a good way, I hope.”
“She said you’re a hairdresser and Brianna’s stepmom. It was nice of you to volunteer. Bill’s house would have been perfect for our class project.”
Bill, not Mr. Ripari. How well acquainted were the two of them? “Was Rose in his class?” Marla asked.
“Yes. My poor baby is still upset over his death, same as the other kids.”
From the happy cries and screeching in the bleachers, Marla wondered if they’d already forgotten the sad event. “Do you know anyone who might have wanted to harm him?”
“Huh, get in line. Bill had more secrets than you have hair follicles, darling.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I should know. We went to the same college.”
Marla, standing on the sidelines with the other woman, gestured to an empty space on the nearest bleacher. “Let’s sit a minute,” she suggested. They’d be less conspicuous that way in the crowd. When Vicki didn’t budge, Marla continued, determined to get some answers. “Did you and Mr. Ripari keep in touch after graduation?”
“No, we lost track of each other.”
“So how did you and Rose end up here?”
“Why do you care, Marla?”
“I found his body, and I’m married to a homicide detective. I’ve helped Dalton solve cases before. It’s sort of what I do when I’m not at the salon.”
Vicki shaded her face against the sun. “I heard you were an unconventional mom. You shouldn’t take risks that could hurt Brianna.”
“She’d like to see Mr. Ripari’s murderer put away as much as I would. I’d feel a lot safer about her going to school if I knew the killer was behind bars.”
“If you’re looking for leads, talk to Patrick Evans. Bill had been tutoring him.”
“Why wasn’t he helping Ricky? From what I’ve understood, Hannah’s son needed to improve his grades in history class.”
“Hannah wouldn’t let Bill be alone with her kid.”
“Why not?”
Vicki leaned inward after casting a furtive glance around them. The only adult nearby was Mr. Lynch. The maintenance man was busy picking stray pieces of popcorn off the floorboards with a long tool and putting the debris into a bucket.
“Bill had different tastes. If I’d known then what I know now, I wouldn’t have…”
“You wouldn’t have what?” Marla prompted, when the woman failed to finish her sentence.
“I wouldn’t have started things. It was a mistake I’ve paid for ever since.” She glanced at Rose with a tender expression. “Well, not in every way.”
Chapter 5
Did Vicki mean what Marla thought she meant? She supposed Vicki Sweetwater and Bill Ripari could have been in the same class.
“What did you study in college?” Marla asked in a casual tone, hoping to learn more about the woman’s earlier relationship with the histor
y teacher.
Vicki squared her shoulders. “I’m an accountant. I do mostly corporate work. Our busy season starts in another couple of months.”
“I can imagine. Are you from Florida originally? Did you go to school here?”
“I went to the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. Those were carefree days, at least until my last year.” Her tone turned bitter. “I couldn’t have known why he’d lost interest, could I? I’ll bet he didn’t even realize it himself. He did try to do the right thing, at least from his viewpoint, but I couldn’t carry out his plan.”
“Do you mean Mr. Ripari? Were you and he an item in college?”
“Whatever gave you that idea?” Vicki said with a false giggle, her eyes lacking mirth. “I’m talking about an old boyfriend. We graduated, and that was the end of it.” She pointed toward a student cheerleader. “You should be more concerned about Maya. She wasted her efforts on Bill.”
“How so?” Marla’s forehead wrinkled in confusion at the change in subject.
“She tried to get Bill’s attention in that way, but he wasn’t interested. Maya should have let it go, but she could be spiteful when rebuffed.”
Marla gaped at the teen performing with her group on the football field. “She meant to seduce Mr. Ripari? How did you hear about it?”
“Darling, I made it my business to learn everything about him. And her pathetic play for the man was rather obvious. Never mind that he could get dismissed for consorting with a student. That hadn’t stopped him before, but usually he was more discreet. In this case, she wasn’t his type. It took her a while to understand.”
Marla shook her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t follow how this relates to you.”
“Never mind. What matters now is up to my lawyer.”
“Can you be more explicit?”
“Let’s talk about something more pleasant. I understand you own a beauty salon?”
Aware the woman wished to divert her attention, Marla chatted about her work, concluding their conversation by handing over a business card. Vicki didn’t reciprocate.
Marla hurried back to Dalton, who’d acquired a bag of chocolate candies in her absence and was happily consuming them.
Happy Homicides 4: Fall Into Crime: Includes Happy Homicides 3: Summertime Crimes Page 46