Game Change: A Nina Bannister Mystery (The Nina Bannister Mysteries Book 3)

by T'Gracie Reese

  “Thank you so much for coming, April. I do appreciate it.”

  “Unnnggggg,” answered April.

  At least that’s what it sounded like.

  “I know you have a busy schedule.”

  “Rrrgggttttm.”

  Finally April arrived, as did the waitress.

  This was the same waitress who had waited on Nina and Jackson, some nights earlier.

  “What can I bring y’all?”

  “Just...just a salad,” said April.

  “No meat?”

  “No. Just a salad.”

  “Ranch dressing?”

  “A little vinegar and oil.”

  “What?”

  “No dressing.”

  “None at all? We’ve got Thousand Island.”

  “No, just the salad.”

  “All right. And for you, honey?”

  “I’ll have a breaded veal cutlet,” said Nina. “And an extra portion of cream gravy. Oh, and do you have calf fries?”

  “We sure do!”

  “I’ll have a side of those, too.”

  “All right. I’ll get that right out!”

  The waitress left. Nina said:

  “April, I need to talk to you about these letters.”

  “You mean concerning new Special Education appointments?”

  “Is that what we’re calling them now? ‘Appointments?’”

  “Well, that’s what they are.”

  “Nina, these students are falling far behind in their classes. They’re holding everybody back.”

  There was a pause; finally Nina said:

  “We’re labeling these students as learning disabled because we don’t want them to take the tests, aren’t we?”

  “Special ed students are not tested. Nor should they be.”

  The waitress arrived, holding a purple headband.

  “Ma’am?”

  “Yes?”

  “They other night when the basketball girls were in here?”

  “Yes?”

  “One of them left this. Thought maybe you might take it to her.”

  “Sure. I’m not certain which one it was, but we’ll figure it out.”

  “Good.”

  She set the band down and asked:

  “Y’all want anything else?”

  “No. Thank you,” answered Nina.

  The waitress left.

  April van Osdale was staring at the band.

  “What was she talking about?”

  “A few nights ago the team ate dinner here.”

  “The team?”

  “The women’s basketball team. They came here and had dinner after the Portageville game.”

  “At whose expense?”

  Oh God, thought Nina.

  “Don’t worry, April. The school didn’t pay for it.”

  “Then who did?”

  Oh God, re-thought Nina.

  “Jackson Bennett.”

  “Bennett…the school board president?”

  “Yes. He’s also a parent of one of the players.”

  “And the coach let this happen?”

  Oh God, thought Nina, for the third time.

  It just gets worse and worse and worse.

  “Well, the coach…”

  “Who is the coach? What is his name?”

  “Her name is Meg Brennan.”

  “Was this Ms. Brennan not aware that financial benefits paid to student athletes are strictly forbidden? And that meals count as financial benefits? Nina, we could be placed on athletic probation because of something like this! Now once again, was Mr. Brennan not aware of the rules?”

  “She…”

  “Surely she must have known that. Did she not protest? How could she have let it happen?”

  “Actually, she wasn’t here.”

  “She what?”

  “She wasn’t here.”

  “Then where in Heaven’s name was she?”

  And what could Nina say?

  What could she say?

  Nina, you idiot you idiot you idiot.

  “She had left after the game.”

  “Left?”

  “Left why? To go where?”

  “I don’t…”

  “She just left the student athletes to get home from Portageville on their own?”

  “It was a special occasion. Jackson came home with them, driving just behind. They were perfectly safe.”

  “No thanks to Ms. Brennan! And what was this occasion?”

  Don’t answer don’t answer don’t answer…

  …but you have to answer, don’t you, Nina?

  Because you’re an idiot.

  “She was driving to New Mexico. To get married.”

  “Why New Mexico? Does her husband live there?”

  Well, that’s about enough for one lunch.

  Let’s just let it go, shall we?

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know why she went to New Mexico?”

  “There were special circumstances involved.”

  “Special circumstances.”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you realize, Nina, what could have happened to us if one of the students had somehow been injured? No coach present?”

  “I guess I didn’t think about it. Jackson…”

  “This is not Jackson’s affair. “

  “I just…”

  “And it’s not your affair now, Nina. It’s mine.”

  “April. I’m truly sorry if I’ve…”

  “You’ve told me what happened, to the best of your ability. That’s your job. I’ll look into the matter now. But…you must excuse me. I’m late for a one o’clock appointment.”

  “Sure.”

  “Thank you for the lunch. And once again, I’m sorry for not getting with you before the letters went out.”

  “It’s all right.”

  “Good day.”

  “Good day.”

  April van Osdale left the restaurant.

  The waitress approached the table, looked down at the untouched salad, and said:

  “She don’t eat no meat, does she?”

  Nina shook her head and said:

  “Don’t you believe it. She’s a cannibal.”

  Then she looked at her meal for a while, took several deep breaths, cursed herself, and went back to school.

  “It’s because I’m alone… If I could just feel it, it would be different, because I would not be alone. But if I were not alone, everybody would know it. And he could do so much for me, and then I would not be alone. Then I could be all right alone.”

  ––William Faulkner, As I Lay Dying

  “Sometimes I lose faith in human nature for a time; I am assailed by doubt.”

  ––William Faulkner, As I Lay Dying

  It was slightly after dark when she reached Elementals: Treasure from the Earth and Sea.

  The place was locked, of course, Margot having left two days earlier for The Candles, where she spent most of her time these days.

  That did not matter.

  Nina needed, if not the presence of her best friend, at least the ambiance of that friend.

  So she walked up the darkened stairs, rammed her fist down the metal cylinder labeled ‘Bannister Canister,’ took out the key that had been made especially for her, and unlocked the door.

  The shop gaped at her.

  There were only shapes hanging from the ceiling, standing by the windows, and sparkling softly in pale moonlight that filtered through the blinds.

  She walked in, made her way to the cash register counter, and flipped the light switch.

  An aura of orange light glowed around her.

  She walked on, happy to be if not home again, then at least home-away-from home again.

  Here were the tables, the desks, the ferns, the treasures, most leased from artists in the area or other shops in Bay St. Lucy, to be sold on consignment:

  Handmade clay sculptures by Jennie McCardill, who first opened her business in The French Qu
arter in New Orleans in 1980. Pieces sculpted from white clay, hand painted and fired twice in a high temperature kiln.

  And:

  Six assorted white-shell boxes from Joyce’s Shells and Gifts, along with Four Cyprian Moneta Center Cut Shells.

  And:

  From Judy Trice at Tuesday Morning:

  Hummel Keeping Time; Hummel Little Miss Mail Carrier; Hummel Chimney Sweep; Hummel Forty Winks.

  And:

  From Bay Breeze:

  Hermann Traditional Mohair Bear; Hermann Little Starlight Mohair Bear

  And:

  From Denise, at M&L Gifts:

  Limoges: Hinged Chef Hat; Hinged Delft Mini Duck; Swarovski Duck—Fancy Felicia

  And more objects, more of the lovely things she had learned to love working around:

  Pickle Casters: Meridian Basket. Pin Inverted Thumbprint.

  Ruffled and Quilted Peach Bowl Art Glass Sweetmeat Server

  She made her way out to the garden, where she and Margot had shared so many cups of coffee or tea, or, at the end of the day, the occasional glass of sherry.

  And now Margot was to marry.

  The shop would be sold.

  No more mornings chatting around the cash register with someone who was paying for the latest Ramoula Peters seascape.

  Nina sat at one of the tables and let her hand wurgle around in her purse until her fingers found the letter of resignation.

  She took it out, held it up, and read by the pale blue light buzzing around her, the name typed on the envelope.

  TO JACKSON BENNETT

  Then she laid it on the table in front of her.

  My God, the things that were happening.

  Forty seven students labeled Special Education.

  Learning Disabled.

  Separate classrooms.

  All of the grades entered into computer by Bay St. Lucy teachers now immediately available for access by…by whom?

  Anyone with a bit of power who wanted to read them.

  Forty seven students, their lives changed permanently.

  So the test scores could go up.

  “I can’t beat these people,” she found herself whispering. “Margot, I can’t beat these people.”

  Monsters. Everywhere monsters.

  “Nina, I have funds at my disposal. If these February test scores, are, say, an average of twenty-three points higher, why, that would put the school in the ‘Exemplary’ range. A great many people would be very pleased if that should happen. There would also be, I can promise you, significant bonuses all around.”

  Significant bonuses.

  What did that mean?

  A thousand dollars for each teacher?

  Ten thousand dollars?

  Could she ignore that prospect?

  And then there was Meg.

  What in God’s name were you thinking, Nina?

  “The team ate dinner here.”

  Of course she should never have mentioned that!

  What was Jackson, the smartest man in Bay St. Lucy, even thinking?

  Well, he wasn’t thinking, of course.

  He was doting-fathering.

  But that was not the worst.

  “Where was the coach, anyway?”

  Out getting married.

  “Her husband is from New Mexico?”

  No, April, her husband is her wife.

  She’s gay, April.

  The coach of our women’s basketball team is gay.

  “Margot, I can’t beat these…all these things. I’m an old woman. What am I supposed to do, Margot? I want so much to resign—but this is my town. They’re my teachers. My students. Meg and Jennifer are my friends. I can’t resign, Margot, can I? Can I, Frank?”

  She waited.

  Of course, Margot, being in love and thus absent, did not speak.

  Her best friend was gone.

  Nor did her husband speak.

  For, despite all the comforting walks along the beach and all the imaginary conversations, he was gone, too.

  She was alone.

  CHAPTER 12: THE POINT GUARD

  The following afternoon Meg Brennan was fired.

  This was done carefully, and with as much sensitivity as possible.

  At one fifteen PM, two Mississippi State Patrolmen entered Bay St. Lucy High School, showed their badges at the front desk, walked down the main corridor, entered the room where Meg was teaching fourth period Health and Wellness, and said:

  “Ma’am, are you Ms. Brennan?”

  “Yes.”

  “You need to come with us.”

  “Where?”

  “We’re under instructions to escort you from the building, ma’am.”

  “What?”

  “You need to get your things together.”

  It was at this point that Nina Bannister, who’d been showing one of the maintenance men a cracked window in the ladies’ restroom, came running down the hall, her face flushed, her short brown hair disheveled by the fact that she’d been running her fingers through it.

  “What the hell is going on here?” she is said to have asked.

  (Reports concerning all of these matters differ slightly.)

  “Ma’am, I’m Patrolman Bartkowski. This is Patrolman Davis.”

  “I’m very glad to know you both. Now, what the hell is going on?”

  “We have instructions to escort Ms. Brennan out of the building and to her vehicle. She is to leave the campus immediately.”

  At this point, the students, seven of whom were on the women’s basketball team, are said to have entered the discussion.

  “Who are you creeps?”

  “Is this a joke?”

  “Are you guys from Hattiesburg or something?”

  “What are you doing with our coach?”

  The patrolmen, on the other hand, remained consistent in their approach:

  “It would be better if you came now, Ms. Brennan. We need to go.”

  “But what is going on?”

  “All we know, ma’am, is that you are to leave the building immediately. It’s our job to make sure there’s no chance of an incident.”

  “Nina?”

  “I don’t know what’s happening, Meg.”

  “Am I being arrested?”

  Patrolman Bartkowski:

  “No, ma’am. This is not an arrest procedure. You simply need to leave the premises. Now.”

  “Says who?”

  “Who are you creeps?”

  “You leave our coach alone.”

  Etc., etc.

  “Please, officers, please! I’m Nina Bannister! I’m the principal here; I have to know what’s going on!”

  “We’re simply acting on orders, ma’am.”

  “But whose orders?”

  “It would be best if Ms. Brennan would come with us immediately. We have to insist on that. Now, Ms. Brennan, please assemble your belongings.”

  “Nina, what’s happening?”

  What was in actuality happening at that point was that the hallways were filling up, both with teachers and with students, all of whom were standing and staring, open mouthed, at Room 153 where the confrontation was taking place.

  Out of one of these rooms (102 to be exact), came Max Lirpa, who’d been moderating a very loud and completely chaotic discussion of the film Inherit the Wind.

  “What the bloody hell is going on here?”

  “Sir, you need to step back.”

  “Who the---are you?”

  “Sir…”

  “What are you bleedin’ Nazis gonna do if I don’t bloody choose to bloody step back?”

  “Sir…”

  “Max. Go back to your room.”

  “Who are these damned goons, Nina?”

  “Policemen. That’ all you need to know.”

  “They’ve got no rights here!”

  “Well, actually, they do. They’re Mississippi State Troopers. And this is Mississippi. Ergo…”

  “They’re not ‘state troopers’! They’re--
-Nazis!”

  “Sir, will you please moderate your language?”

  “Who are you people, anyway?”

  “What are you doing with our coach?”

  “Are you creeps from Hattiesburg?”

  “Nina, what is happening?”

  “I’m going to find out, Meg.”

  “Are they firing me? Am I under arrest?”

  “You bleedin’ bloody pigs!”

  “Sir, please step back into the corridor.”

  “Make me! Come on! Make me!”

  “Yeaahhhh! Go, Mr. Lirpa!”

  “Max, please go back to your room.”

  “The hell I will!”

  “Sir, please don’t make us arrest you.”

  “Try to arrest me! Just try!”

  And at that time, the record of events becomes somewhat difficult to follow.

  What is agreed upon by all though is that Max Lirpa, if he did not actually return to his room, at least stepped back far enough to allow the patrolmen to lead Meg Brennan away, and at least moderated his language sufficiently as to avoid being led away in handcuffs himself.

  The students did pour out into the corridor, where they were joined by two hundred or so other students, who followed their coach and their principal and the law enforcement arm of their home state through and then out of their school, finally standing in a tight mass in the parking lot and bellowing:

  SCREW YOU COPS! SCREW YOU COPS! SCREW YOUCOPS!

  Until Meg had gotten into her van, along with Nina, and the black vehicle had inched its way through the crowd, the patrol car close behind it, the students still shouting and now beginning to throw handfuls of pea gravel.

  It was in this way that an “incident” was avoided.

  “What is happening, Nina?”

  Meg was in tears, and hardly able to drive.

  Nina thought about telling her to pull into the nearest parking lot, so that Nina herself could drive.

  But Nina was frantically yelling into her cell phone with one breath and trying to pacify Meg with the next.

  Both of these goals were proving difficult to accomplish, because: a) neither of the parties she’d been attempting to reach for the past mile and a half (Dr. April van Osdale and Jackson Bennett) were in their offices, and b) she had no idea how to answer Meg’s incessant question “What’s going on?” because she had no idea what was going on.

  Except that she did.

  Meg was obviously being fired.

  Had been fired.

  True, it might have been better if someone—she, Jackson, Meg, someone––had been informed of this fact, either orally or in writing, before a police presence had been thought necessary––but life was imperfect, and the secret of maturity lay in dealing with small setbacks with grace and as much aplomb as possible.