The Ghost of Robert Brown: A Mystery Novel

by P. Wish

  “Larry did. You heard what Larry said. There was a call in the afternoon that day. He’d been sending messages to a particular number.”

  “Stalking.”

  Detective Myers nodded. “It would seem like it.”

  “Did he ever get a reply?”

  “No.”

  “But the last phone call…it was from the person he was sending those messages to, wasn’t it?”

  Detective Myers nodded. “That’s when I started suspecting something was wrong.”

  “Based on the proof we have, this seems like the most logical conclusion,” Jane said. “He even signed up for dining hall duty after the break. That means he assumed he’d be alive after the break.”

  “The range of suspects is narrow,” Detective Brown said. “Any of them could’ve done it. Have you managed to figure out who pushed Robert?”

  “Not yet,” Jane said. “I know I’m missing something, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

  “Why would Mr. Greene plan a murder?”

  “Revenge,” Jane said. “How would you feel if you found out that your son had been murdered by someone and the whole episode was dismissed as suicide? Wouldn’t you want to harm the person who did that to your child? Wouldn’t you want the whole world to know the truth?” Jane asked, bursting with emotion.

  Detective Myers stiffened. An unreadable expression came over his face. Jane cleared her throat and drank some coffee, trying to clear the air.

  “What I mean is that he’d figured out that Robert had been pushed after reading the diary. He’d always believed it wasn’t a suicide. After finding out for certain, he put together a plan to kill the murderer the same way his son was killed. He seems to be a detail-oriented man. He chose a day when the weather was exactly like the day of his son’s death. It was the same date. The same place. And the same method. I’m assuming the person he wanted to kill knew how to swim.”

  “Hmmmm….”

  “He must’ve known the identity of the person who pushed Robert.”

  “I’m sure he did. You know, that diary…” Jane paused to drink some coffee. “I found the missing pages in Mrs. Wolverhampton’s room.”

  Detective Myers’s eyes widened.

  “That’s not all. I think Mrs. Maeda passed on the diary to Mr. Greene.”

  “Why?”

  “There’s a lot you don’t know, Gary,” Jane said.

  “Tell me.”

  Jane drank some coffee and took a bite of the croissant. She looked around and noticed that they had company now. An old couple sat in one corner of the cafe. A middle-aged man was reading the newspaper in a chair in the middle of the coffee shop. The sun had risen completely, flooding the room with light. Jane turned to Gary, whose light eyes reflected the sunlight.

  “Mrs. Maeda… witnessed one of Robert’s earlier suicide attempts and called his father. That’s how she knew it was Mr. Greene. Over the years, they’ve been in touch.”

  “Do you think they were—”

  “Lovers? I don’t know. I wouldn’t go that far,” Jane said.

  “That is an interesting twist,” he said, his eyes widening. “I wonder if that makes it more or less likely that she was involved.”

  “You should ask her,” Jane said. “We need to find the person who pushed Robert that night. That person is the key to this case.” She stood up. “I should get going. If I’m gone too long, people will start wondering where I am.”

  Detective Myers and Jane reached the door. He opened it and stepped out.

  “You’ll have to take the bus back,” he said. “We don’t want you losing your job.”

  “Speaking of my job, when are you leaving for Liverpool?”

  “Soon.”

  He walked towards his car and waved goodbye. Jane waited for at the bus stop. She watched Detective Myers drive away. She was going to miss him. She was going to miss this.

  Jane took the bus back to St. Anne’s. By the time she reached the school, the sun had risen, casting daylight on the majestic St. Anne’s. Jane stared at it, wondering what secrets lay behind those walls.

  ***

  Jane walked out of her office room at 1:00 p.m. for lunch. As she strolled down the hallways, she noticed Mrs. Maeda’s office was open. Through the narrow gap, she could see Detective Myers was seated in a chair across from Mrs. Maeda. The green curtains that covered the window appeared a shade lighter, framed by the sunlight.

  “So, Detective, how can I help you today?” Mrs. Maeda asked.

  “I’m wrapping up the case,” he said. “I wanted to confirm a few facts.”

  “What facts?”

  “We managed to access Mr. Greene’s computer and it seems…he confided something in you.”

  Mrs. Maeda stilled. Jane pulled back before anybody saw her snooping. She rested her back on the wall, listening in on the conversation.

  “Wh—what?”

  “Do you know about the diary? Robert Brown’s diary?” Detective Myers said.

  “Wh—what are you talking about?”

  “Robert Brown’s diary,” Detective Myers said. “How did you get it?”

  “I don’t know—”

  Detective Myers pulled out a crumpled sheet from his pocket and laid it on the table. Mrs. Maeda picked it up and read it.

  “It was one of the pieces of information we found on Mr. Greene’s computer. He scheduled a meeting on his computer for meeting you to ‘ask about the diary three years ago.’”

  The police had done a good job of digging through his computer correspondences, especially those around the time he met Tim.

  “It was another diary.”

  “Which one?”

  “The teachers’ sign-up diary.”

  “You came in to hand over the keys, that day?”

  “Somebody else could’ve gone in there.”

  “You have the keys. That means you have access to every room in this building.”

  “I didn’t steal the diary.”

  “I didn’t say you did.”

  “Then why are you asking me about it?”

  “I asked if you know about the diary, and it seems like you do,” Detective Myers said.

  “Am I a suspect?”

  “No. Not at all. I’m wondering how the diary got to Mr. Greene. Do you have any ideas?”

  Mrs. Maeda hesitated.

  “Anything you say will be helpful in finding the person behind this,” Detective Myers said. “Don’t you want to find the person behind this?”

  “Well…” Mrs. Maeda looked around. “I got it for him.”

  “How did Mr. Greene know about the diary?”

  “He was Robert’s father.”

  “How did he know Mrs. Wolverhampton had the diary?”

  “Well…he didn’t. When he came here four years ago, he wanted to find Robert’s diary and the truth behind his death. He knew Robert wouldn’t kill himself. He also knew about the diary and he wanted to find it.”

  “And you decided to help him?”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever told you this, but I once stopped Robert from committing suicide.” Mrs. Maeda’s face filled with lines.

  “When?”

  “It was a year before he drowned. I went to his room one day to find him. He was trying to kill himself. I called the ambulance. I tried to call his mother, but she wasn’t answering, so I called his father.”

  “That’s how you met Mr. Greene?”

  She nodded.

  “Wasn’t he in Paris?”

  “He was in England for the summer.”

  “He came?”

  “Yes. Immediately. He made sure Robert started counseling and stayed with him until his mother arrived a few hours later.”

  “Did you know he was planning to join St. Anne’s?”

  “No. It came as a surprise. He didn’t tell anyone about his relationship to Robert.”

  “Hadn’t anyone seen him?”

  “As you know, Mrs. Brown and Mr. Greene separated a f
ew years ago. I was the only one who knew who he was.”

  “And you kept it a secret?”

  “He asked me to. He wanted to find out what really happened to Robert. I’m a mother too. I understand how a parent would feel after losing their child. So, I agreed.”

  “Did you help him?”

  “Help him?”

  “Get the diary. Find information.”

  “I didn’t know about the diary. He was the one who told me about it.”

  “Had he been looking for it?”

  “Yes. He looked all over the school, but he couldn’t find it.”

  “How did you find it?”

  “It was by pure coincidence. He looked everywhere but never found it. That day, when I went to return the keys, I accidentally knocked some papers over. While picking them up, I saw the diary in Mrs. Wolverhampton’s drawer.”

  “In her office?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why would she leave the diary in her office?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “But pages were missing from the diary?”

  “Yes. She must’ve torn them out. They must have pointed to the identity of the person Robert met that night.”

  “Robert was supposed to meet someone the night he died?”

  Mrs. Maeda nodded. “I don’t know who it was, though. I’ve never read the diary.”

  “Who was at school before the break?”

  “Me, Mrs. Wolverhampton, Mr. McEwan, the administrative staff and some students.”

  “Some students?”

  “We don’t keep a list of them. They leave for home on different days.”

  “Do students stay over the break?”

  “Yes. If they have work to do.”

  “And there’s no way to know who stayed?”

  “No.”

  “What did Mr. Greene think of the diary?”

  “He never said anything about it. I asked him if he’d found something.”

  “What did he say?”

  “No. He didn’t find anything. Some of the pages in the diary were missing. He thought those pages contained the identity of the person who was at the lake that night.”

  “Did he ever find the missing pages?”

  “No. I don’t think he did.”

  “Did you know about what he was planning?”

  “What he was planning?”

  “Why did he go to the lake that night?”

  “I don’t know. I was on my way to London.”

  “I see. Thank you for talking to me.”

  “Detective, who was it?”

  “You’ll know when I figure it out. Soon.”

  Jane backed off the door. The door opened. Detective Myers walked out. Their eyes met for a moment before he continued down the corridor. Well, at least now she knew how the diary had gotten to Mr. Greene.

  ***

  At 6:00 p.m., Jane stood outside the counselor’s office in the NHS facility in Tenterden. The door opened. Natalie’s familiar face stood on the other side of the door.

  “Come in,” she said.

  Jane walked into the room and took her spot on the sofa.

  “Water?” Natalie asked.

  “Yes, please.”

  Natalie filled a glass with water and placed it on the table before Jane. She grabbed a file from her desk and sat facing Jane.

  “So, how have you been feeling?”

  “Better. A lot better.”

  “Have you been thinking about your son?”

  “I haven’t thought about him much. I’ve been distracted.”

  “Distracted?”

  “Umm… a lot is going on at school.”

  “I’m sure it’s getting busy.”

  “It is.”

  “Well, if distraction works, I say do more of it.”

  “More of it?”

  “You need time to work on your guilt issues. If you feel burdened, it may slow down your progress. So, I suggest focusing on something else to keep yourself distracted. What have you been doing?”

  “Ummm…I met an old friend.”

  “The one you told me about last time?”

  Jane nodded. “We’ve been meeting up more frequently.”

  “A lot of people with mental issues retreat into their shell, but it’s always a good idea to go out into the world,” the counselor said. “It helps get your mind off it. Does your friend know about your son?”

  “He does.”

  “Do you think talking to him about it would help?”

  “I’ve spoken to him about it once and…well, we don’t talk about it anymore.”

  “So, it didn’t go well?”

  “I wouldn’t say that. It’s just that…I forget all about Charlie when I’m with him. We talk about old times…when things were different. He makes me think of the happier things in life.”

  “That’s a good sign,” the counselor responded with a smile. “Keep talking to this friend of yours.”

  Jane smiled.

  “Have you been sleeping well?”

  “No. I’m still having trouble sleeping,” Jane said. “I’m a chronic insomniac. Must be all those years in the police,” she muttered.

  “Are you still taking sleeping pills?” Natalie asked.

  “Sometimes. But I’ve been trying to avoid them.”

  “That’s good. You only want to take them when you really need them. Have you managed to get around to looking at your son’s photographs?”

  “No.” Jane knitted her fingers. “Not yet.”

  “Have there been any other incidents you want to talk about?”

  “There was one more than a week ago. One of the students attempted suicide. I’ve seen him hurt a few times but I always assumed…I always thought he was being bullied and someone else had hurt him. But last Tuesday…” Jane paused.

  “Take a deep breath,” Natalie reminded her.

  Jane took a few deep breaths until the pace of her heart returned to normal.

  “It reminded me of Charlie’s death,” Jane said. “When I saw him lying on the floor, I was paralyzed. I didn’t know what to do. Then, he whispered…” Jane swallowed. “He said he didn’t want to live anymore.”

  Natalie didn’t break eye contact. Jane gazed at the carpet and continued, “My senses stopped for a second. I couldn’t see or hear anything. It was like watching history repeat itself. I knew I was supposed to get him out of the room, but in that moment, my body shut down.”

  “Then?”

  “Then I snapped out of it. I knew I couldn’t let him die like Charlie. I knew I had to make sure he lived.”

  “That’s brave of you.”

  “I carried him downstairs to the ambulance.”

  “What helped you snap out of it?”

  “I guess my mind was louder than my emotions. It’s almost like Charlie’s death made me aware of the problems people that age face. I wanted to help him. I wanted to help him get better and I knew it wouldn’t happen if he didn’t live.”

  “Did the student live?”

  “He did. It wasn’t a major wound. He’s on medication.”

  “That’s a relief,” Natalie said. “You’ve made some improvement. Congratulations, Jane.”

  “It isn’t much. I still feel guilty whenever I remember the incident. I’ve been recalling it less often, but every time I do, I feel like a failure.”

  “We need to get rid of those feelings of guilt,” Natalie said.

  “I have something to say,” Jane said. “Charlie’s teacher called me. She wants me to come down to London to pick up some of his stuff. She found a few of his notebooks and papers that she thinks I should take a look at. The school doesn’t want to keep them anymore, so she asked me if I wanted them.”

  “Are you going?”

  “At first, I told her to get rid of the papers, but I ended up calling her back five minutes later. I told her I’d come. I want to preserve everything Charlie left behind.”

  “Jane, you don’t have to go
if you don’t feel comfortable.”

  “I want to. I want to go back there again and see how I feel. I want to try.”

  “That’s a good start. You’re trying to move ahead, which is a sign of progress. When are you going?”

  “This weekend. I got a ticket to London.”

  “Let’s do this, then,” Natalie said. “This will be a good opportunity to face your fears head-on. Remember to breathe, be calm and be deatched. It’s going to be better than you think.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Jane said.

  “We’re done for today unless you want to talk about something else.”

  “No.”

  “Good. Should we schedule the next appointment the week after you come back from London?”

  “That would be great.”

  Natalie moved over to the computer on the desk and entered Jane’s appointment. “All done. See you soon.”

  “Bye.”

  “Good luck with the visit. If you get nervous, take a deep breath.”

  “I’ll remember that.”

  ***

  Wednesday, April 24, 2002

  At 7:30 a.m., Jane walked through the door of St. Anne’s. To her left was Dr. Daniels’s room, which was closed. To her right was the counselor’s office. Jane’s eyes skimmed the heavy wooden door. The door was closed, but she heard voices behind it. With a light foot, she walked towards the door. She heard whispers in the counselor’s deep voice. Jane moved closer and pressed her ear to the door. She jerked back, afraid that somebody might find her. But the counselor’s office was shielded from the main corridor by a wall. Jane looked through the keyhole. What she saw made her breath catch in her throat.

  She saw Jack’s lifeless eyes staring at the dark maroon carpet. The window was covered with thick curtains, making it appear duller than it was. Jack twiddled his thumbs while the counselor wrote something down. Jane glanced at her watch. School wasn’t supposed to begin until an hour later. She could listen in. Jane pressed her ear to the brass keyhole.

  She could hear the counselor’s sharp voice more clearly.

  “Why did you lock yourself inside?” she asked. Jane heard her pen tap on the wooden desk.

  “I…” Jack’s voice startled her.

  “Jack, this is a safe place. You can say anything you want,” the counselor reassured. “I want you to talk. That’s how you’ll get better.”

  Jack nodded.

  “So, why did you lock yourself in?” she asked.