by Sara Rosett
“No, only that first time. Believe me, the envelope was sufficient for me to know what was being demanded.”
“And that first note?”
“I burned it on the barbecue grill at my apartment complex. So, no evidence, just Peg’s smug looks.”
“Still, you should tell Detective Waraday. You can talk to him about your notes for the computer game at the same time. I’m sure that you can get them back, at least a copy, especially since they don’t seem to have any relation to Klea’s death.”
She jumped up from the desk where she’d been perched. “No. I’m not talking to him. I have a criminal record. He’s not going to believe anything I say, especially after—” She stopped speaking and looked down at the Taser, fidgeting with one of the little flap-type things that covered the end of the barrel.
Watching her pick at the flap of the Taser made me nervous—it was still pointed loosely in my direction—but the guilty cast of her face looked just like Nathan’s when I pointed out to him that I knew from the crumbs all over the counter that he’d had a snack when I told him not to.
“That wasn’t the only note,” I said. “There was also the note you wrote to me.”
Her head popped up. “You can’t prove that.”
“Oh, I’m afraid I can. Or, at least, Detective Waraday can.” I glanced at the handwritten lesson that was still on the whiteboard. “You left a sample of your handwriting here on the board as well as in the game notes. Why did you write that note to me, if you didn’t kill Klea?” I asked, realizing that despite all her lies and misdirection, I really did believe her when she said she hadn’t killed Klea.
Ms. McCormick swiped at a strand of hair that had fallen over her forehead. She pushed it back. “It was stupid. I see that now, but I thought if I could just get you to keep quiet and not ask any more questions . . . then it would all be okay. No one had been interested in my previous job—or whether or not I’d even had a previous job. If I could get you to leave it alone, it would all be fine.”
I’d been so focused on what Ms. McCormick was saying that I hadn’t been paying attention to what was going on in the hallway outside the door, but we both realized that there were several sets of footsteps ringing out on the tile.
“I have to go,” Ms. McCormick said quickly. “Tell that Detective Waraday everything I told you, okay?” Ms. McCormick moved across the room. As she flitted by me, she stuffed the Taser back in her purse, but kept her hand around the handle, inside the bag. She reached the door at the same time that Mrs. Kirk appeared. They almost ran into each other, but Mrs. Kirk stepped back, her face shocked. “Ms. McCormick! What are you doing . . . ?” She trailed off as she took in Ms. McCormick’s rough appearance.
Ms. McCormick pushed by Mrs. Kirk and hurried down the hall. I rushed into the hallway and grabbed Mrs. Kirk’s arm to help steady her. Ms. McCormick had pushed her off balance, and Mrs. Kirk had half-fallen against the wall.
She righted herself and we both started after Ms. McCormick, but she was too fast for us. By the time we got to the end of the hallway where it met the lobby, all we could see of Ms. McCormick was a glimpse of her blue dress as she disappeared out the front doors of the school. We hurried to the doors and saw Ms. McCormick’s little blue car already bumping over the dip at the exit of the parking lot and accelerating into the street.
Organizing Tips for PTA Moms
Social Media and Schools
If your school doesn’t have social media accounts and you enjoy social media, volunteer to create and maintain a profile for your school on one of the social media websites. Facebook probably has the widest reach so it would be a good starting point.
Use the account to post information and reminders about upcoming events, link to volunteer signup opportunities, and promote school spirit with images and reports about events, but check with your school district about their policy on photography releases before posting any images of students.
Chapter Sixteen
Mrs. Kirk shook her head. “I can’t believe it . . . that she showed up here.” She turned and went into the main office. I followed her more slowly, my thoughts spinning. Should I tell Mrs. Kirk what Ms. McCormick had told me—her suspicions about Peg? Ms. McCormick was sure it was Peg who was blackmailing her, and it seemed like that was the logical conclusion, but what if Ms. McCormick was wrong? What if it was someone else who worked in the office . . . ? Marie and Mrs. Kirk worked in the office, too.
I didn’t want to go there—not even in my thoughts, but all three women worked in the office . . . and then there was Klea’s list as well. After discovering that Mrs. Harris was writing under the name Alexa Wells, I couldn’t help but wonder why the other names were on the list with those two. Could it be that everyone on the list had something to hide? Ms. McCormick certainly did. And now it appeared Peg did as well. Marie and Mrs. Kirk’s names were on that list, too . . . so perhaps keeping the news to myself until I could tell Detective Waraday about it was the better call.
I went to the main office and headed for the computer, intending to sign out before I left the campus, but I realized I hadn’t signed in at all, which was getting to be a bad habit. It was the second time I’d forgotten to sign in, but the shock of spotting Ms. McCormick had pushed everything out of my mind.
Mrs. Kirk was in her office, on the telephone with the door closed, but she saw me through the glass panel that ran along the side of her door. She stood and walked to the door, but kept the phone pressed to her ear. She tilted the lower portion of it away from her mouth as she said, “Ellie, you’re not leaving, are you? I’m on the line with the sheriff’s department. I’m sure they’ll want to speak to you.”
“Yes, of course,” I said. Of course Mrs. Kirk would call Detective Waraday. He needed to be informed that Ms. McCormick had shown up at the school. I sat down on the long wooden bench, mentally kicking myself for not immediately telling Detective Waraday about the rumors Margo had mentioned. There was definitely something shady going on in the school.
Peg’s desk was off to the side and, despite the tall counter that blocked Mrs. Kirk and Marie from my view, I could see Peg. She sat at her desk, tapping away on her computer, looking completely calm, occasionally taking a sip from her coffee mug. Could she be a blackmailer? A stack of orange inter-office folders sat in a basket on the corner of her desk. I wished I could get a peek at them, but that was crazy. I shifted on the bench, recrossing my legs in the other direction. I was too nosy. Maybe Gabrielle was right that even if I wanted to leave the questions around Klea’s death alone, I just couldn’t do it.
I glanced back at Peg. When I’d first met her, I’d wondered if she was shy because she hardly ever spoke to anyone and only answered if she was asked a direct question, but as time went by, I’d decided she wasn’t reticent because she was nervous or embarrassed. I’d realized that there was a sullenness to her personality that came through in every interaction we’d had.
She must have felt my gaze on her because she looked over at me and raised her eyebrows. “Did you need something?” she said, her tone sharp.
“No, nothing. Sorry.”
I took out my phone and checked my calls, then noticed a message had come in a few minutes ago through my website, a request for an organizing consultation. The person, Marguerite, had left the section for the last name blank. She wanted to meet this afternoon and had checked off kitchen and closets as the areas she wanted help with. I ran over my schedule in my mind. I’d planned on stopping at the office supply store, but I could put that off. It would be best to get in as many appointments as I could before summer hit and the kids were home all the time.
A strange sound—a half gulp, half gasp—made me look up, my mom senses on full alert. I knew that sound. It was the prelude to someone throwing up. Peg, one hand clasped over her mouth and the other over her stomach, lurched to the door and disappeared into the restroom across the hall.
I stood up and looked at Marie. “Do you think she’s
okay?”
“I better go see.” Marie bustled around the tall counter, her sky-blue shirt swishing with every step.
I waited a moment, then decided that Peg didn’t need a second person hovering over her in the bathroom and sat back down. My phone buzzed with a new text. It was from Abby, letting me know that she and the kids had arrived at school.
I went into the lobby in time to catch the kids and say hello to them. They answered distractedly and hurried on to the cafeteria, where they could talk quietly with their friends until the bell to go to class sounded. I turned to Abby. “Everything go okay?”
“Oh, sure. We had a short panic when Charlie couldn’t find his math homework.” She rolled her eyes. “I really should get you to organize his room. It’s a disaster.”
“I could do that. This summer?”
“Yes, please.” She shifted her feet, and I knew she wanted to get to class, so I said quickly, “Have you ever heard any rumors about . . . well, shady things going on here at the school?”
She went still and tilted her head. “What do you mean, shady?”
Two teachers passed us, and I waited until they were in the teachers’ lounge before I said, “There’s really no way to phrase it subtly. Have you heard anything about people being blackmailed?”
I’d expected Abby to look shocked and immediately say how crazy that thought was, but she didn’t. She shifted her gaze around the lobby, where more teachers were entering the building. She grabbed my arm and pulled me down to the turn where the second-grade hallway branched off the lobby. “What have you heard?”
“You mean it’s true?” I asked.
“I don’t know, but I have heard . . . rumblings . . . nothing concrete—that’s why I didn’t say anything to you. I figured it was just some moms exaggerating.”
“It was moms—parents—you heard talking about it?”
“Two moms. I walked into the workroom one day and heard what I thought was the word ‘blackmail.’ The two women shifted their conversation to something else right away, and I decided it was just too absurd. I must have misheard them.”
“Who were they?”
“I don’t know. Not any parents I’ve come in contact with before, but the school is pretty big. There are lots of parents that I don’t know. And people are always moving in and out, coming and going. I don’t know everyone. But you’ve obviously heard something, too—something more than the word blackmail.”
“I’ve heard a couple of things—”
The bell rang, and Abby sighed. “I’m late. I have car circle duty today. I have to go, but we have to talk later.”
I nodded and went back to the office, passing Mrs. Kirk. “Detective Waraday is on his way,” she said. “He does want to speak to you.” She moved to the main doors, her walkie-talkie in hand.
A runaway teacher might have returned unexpectedly, but the routines of the school day, like monitoring morning drop-off, continued.
“I’ll wait in the office,” I said, and returned there to find Marie making a tsking sound as she picked up the stack of papers Peg had been working on. Marie dropped them in the basket on top of the inter-office envelopes, and carried the whole thing over to her desk. She went back to Peg’s desk and switched off the computer, then picked up her coffee mug. Marie took it to the back of the room, where there was a little bar-type sink in the counter next to a coffeepot. She dumped the coffee, rinsed out the mug, and returned it to Peg’s desk. “I just hope none of the rest of us come down with it.”
“Oh, no. What does Peg have?” I asked.
“I hope it’s food poisoning. She said she had a fast-food breakfast roll on the way to work today. Otherwise, we’re all in for it.”
“I hate to wish food poisoning on anyone, but I hope that’s it and not something else contagious,” I said, thinking of how quickly viruses and flu bugs spread through the school.
Marie moved back to her desk. “I told Peg to go on home. She didn’t want to, but she looked as green as the grass out that window. No use her sitting around, spreading germs, if she is contagious.”
“And she seemed fine a few minutes ago.”
“You know how those things are,” Marie said. “They come on sudden.”
Marie attacked the pile of papers she’d transferred to her desk, and I went back to my phone, automatically tapping out a reply that I could meet my new client at two o’clock, wondering if it was too much of a coincidence that Peg had become ill and had to leave the school shortly after Ms. McCormick returned. Had Peg somehow overheard what she’d said? I bit my lip, trying to remember how busy the hallway had been. A few people had been moving around—teachers, I’d assumed, going to their classrooms. But from the point when Ms. McCormick mentioned blackmail, I had been so focused on her that I hadn’t noticed anyone in the hall.
I supposed Peg could have been hovering outside the room listening to part of the conversation. I couldn’t be sure, so I sent a long text to Detective Waraday, summarizing what Ms. McCormick had told me, and sat back to wait, hoping that Marie might get called away, and I could sneak a look at the basket of inter-office envelopes.
Chapter Seventeen
“I was caught completely off guard,” Mrs. Kirk said. Mrs. Kirk, Detective Waraday, and I were in Mrs. Kirk’s office with the door closed. It was close to noon. I had spent the morning hanging about the school, waiting for Detective Waraday. I had lingered for a good hour in the office, but Marie hadn’t left her desk once.
After retrieving my laptop—which I’d gotten into the habit of bringing with me because I could get a lot of work done while waiting in the car circle line at the end of the school day—from the van, I’d finally moved down to the workroom and cleared my email inbox, then created a checklist for a client who was moving soon.
Detective Waraday had arrived, and I’d been called to the office shortly before noon. I’d thought it might have taken him so long to arrive because he had gone to Peg’s house to speak to her, but he’d explained that he’d been delayed because a report had come in that he had to investigate. Ms. McCormick’s car had been spotted at a park on the other side of North Dawkins. It had been abandoned, and there’d been no sign of her, but a search of the surrounding area had to be made.
Mrs. Kirk tapped a pencil on her desktop. “I find it very disturbing, Detective, that Ms. McCormick returned to the school this morning and slipped in before the students arrived.”
“I can understand your worries,” Detective Waraday said. “I’ve instructed an officer to be here from the time the doors open until the school is locked at night. He should arrive soon. I’ve told him to check in with you, but I doubt Ms. McCormick will return to the school. I understand that what she was looking for wasn’t here,” he said, glancing at me.
Mrs. Kirk sat forward, her surprised gaze fixed on me. “She spoke to you? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“You had drop-off, and with Peg getting sick . . . there was so much going on, I thought I’d tell you both, at once.”
Mrs. Kirk frowned. “Well, what did she want?”
I looked at Detective Waraday, and he gave a nod of his head, indicating I should tell her. “The notes for her game.”
Mrs. Kirk’s chin came down, and she looked at me with raised eyebrows. “She came back to the school for a game?”
I was surprised that Detective Waraday hadn’t told Mrs. Kirk about the game. He’d definitely known about it yesterday and could have informed Mrs. Kirk about it then.
Detective Waraday said, “Yes. It appears Ms. McCormick was creating a computer game. I think Mrs. Avery can explain it better than I can.” He motioned that I had the floor.
I gave Mrs. Kirk a quick summary of the game, noticing that while Mrs. Kirk’s attention was focused on me, Detective Waraday was watching her intently. I said, “So Ms. McCormick wanted those notes, the flowchart schematic thing. That’s what she was looking for today.”
Mrs. Kirk shook her head. “Of all the things . .
.” She picked up a pencil and tapped the pencil’s eraser on the desktop rapidly. “And they weren’t there? She didn’t find them?” Mrs. Kirk’s voice had an edge to it. She wasn’t happy that I hadn’t informed her of all this before Detective Waraday arrived.
“No,” Detective Waraday said, “I have them.”
“I see,” Mrs. Kirk said, and gave him a long look that I was sure made the kids squirm in their chairs, but it didn’t seem to bother Detective Waraday. After a second, Mrs. Kirk went on. “Well, creating a game on the school’s computer system and using students to beta test it, as you called it, is certainly something she should have run by me.”
The beat of the eraser increased, then stopped abruptly as Mrs. Kirk replaced it in a pencil cup. “But, as we all now know, Ms. McCormick had quite a few things that she preferred to keep to herself, things that she should have informed me of.” She inched her chair back. “If that’s all you need from us, Detective . . . ?”
He said, “That’s not quite all. Do you have an extra classroom where I can speak with Mrs. Avery?”
I had been wondering if I should launch into the whole blackmail story of Ms. McCormick’s in front of Mrs. Kirk. It seemed that Detective Waraday wasn’t sharing all the details of the investigation with her, and I didn’t want to give anything away.
Mrs. Kirk stared at him a moment, a frown on her face. “At the moment, no, there is not a free classroom, as we have a substitute in Ms. McCormick’s classroom today, but you may use my office.”
She stood and left, closing the door behind her.
Detective Waraday looked at the door for a moment, then turned back to me. His expression seemed to say, I’m not getting any bonus points here, thanks to you. He cleared his throat and adjusted his sport coat as he shifted in his chair so that he was fully facing me. Today he wore a dress shirt, tie, and jacket with his khakis. I wondered if he’d had to testify in court or attend some other important meeting. “So, blackmail?” he asked.