“What are you writing?” he asked me irritably.
“Notes.” I chewed on the pen.
“I knew it.” Detective Scott sat down hard on the chair with an exaggerated sigh. “Trish.”
I looked up at him. “Yes?”
“Why are you making notes?” His expression hadn’t changed from earlier in the band room.
“Well, it helps me remember everything, and then I can help you better.” Unfortunately, he knew about my mystery lists. Me and my big mouth. I’d told him during the investigation into Jim Bob’s murder.
“Listen to me,” he said. “I just need your statement. I don’t need your help.”
“There’s a difference?” I asked.
“You know exactly what I mean, you’re just being obtuse.” His right eye twitched. “I don’t want to have to worry about you. Especially now that you’re expecting. Last time was plenty for me. I’m sure Max would agree.”
“Oh, I get it.” I gripped my pen tighter. “You’re threatening to tell Max that I was sitting here making notes. And you hope he’ll keep me under control and make me stop.”
“Got it in one.” Detective Scott pulled a notebook from his pocket.
His attitude was reminiscent of the way he’d acted in the past. So was my immediate annoyance with him. “Your reaction must mean that this was a murder,” I said.
He eyed me. “We don’t know anything yet.”
“Sure. As usual. And you really won’t know anything until the case is solved, at which time you’ll tell me everything I need to know.” I looked at my list, fighting a growing sense of irritation.
His breath hissed through his teeth. “Trish, would you please pay attention and answer my questions?”
“Of course.” I laid the pen and paper on my knees and folded my hands on my stomach. “I’m listening.”
The nerve at the corner of his eye continued to twitch. “Why do I feel like you’re just tolerating me?”
I shrugged.
He tapped his pen on his notebook. “Were you alone when you found Georgia?”
“No. Tommy was with me.”
He jotted a note. “Did you and Tommy arrive together?”
I frowned. “No, he was already here.”
The detective’s eyes narrowed, and he bounced his pen on his leg. Tap, tap, tap. “Was he with you when you discovered Georgia?”
“Yes. . .well.” I met his gaze. “He got to the band room right after I did, but he noticed her first.”
“I want to know everything you saw from the moment you pulled into the school parking lot.”
I took a deep breath, pointedly picked up my pen, lifted the paper, and shook it for emphasis. I heard him sigh as I began to read. He interrupted me when I mentioned Connie.
“Connie who?” he asked.
“Gilbert. She does the costumes for the play. I spoke to her in Georgia’s classroom before I went to the band room.”
He made a note. “All right. Proceed.”
He didn’t interrupt me again, and when I finished, I put the paper down and stared at him.
“Thank you,” he said as he jotted down notes. He glanced up at me. “Now, tell me again exactly what you saw when you were walking up to the victim. You skipped that part.”
I swallowed. I didn’t want to talk about that. I didn’t want to remember Georgia Winters’ dead body.
“I’m sorry, Trish,” he said in a softer tone. “This is very difficult for you, I know. I can arrange for you to talk to a victim advocate if you’d like.”
“No!”
He looked startled, but I didn’t want to talk to her. I’d met her once. She was very sweet, with one of those soft voices pitched just right to be soothing. Anyone who acted like that couldn’t possibly be real, and that made me suspicious.
“No, thanks,” I said with less emphasis. “I’ll be fine.” I told him exactly what I’d seen in the band room. “My biggest question is how whoever murdered her—if she was murdered—got out of the band room. There was a chair behind the door to the room, you know.”
He asked me to describe that to him again, which I did. “I didn’t even look at the door in the instrument storage room,” I said, “but you said it was locked, right?”
“Is that all?” Of course he didn’t answer me, just tapped his pen hard on his leg.
“Yes,” I said.
“Are you sure?”
“Aren’t I always sure?” I slapped the paper on my lap, irritated at him again.
“Unfortunately.”
But before I could ask him what, exactly, that meant, I heard the library door open. I turned and saw Tommy holding it for the pretty teenage girl he’d been talking to in the hall. Now I remembered where I’d seen her face. From a photo in Detective Scott’s office.
“Hey, Daddy,” she said. “You remember my car is in the shop?”
Tommy looked at me then at Detective Scott, who wasn’t smiling.
“I remember,” he said.
“Well, Tommy was supposed to drive me home so we could practice for the play. I’ll wait until you’re done talking to him.”
The detective’s gaze had fallen on my son, like an exterminator studying a cockroach. Finally, he looked back at his daughter. “I’ll have one of the deputies drive you home. I’m going to talk to Tommy next. We could be here for a while.”
A flash of anger lit her eyes. “I don’t want to ride home with one of your people. Can’t I just wait for Tommy?”
Detective Scott glanced from her to my stepson, frowning. “Uh, no. I want you to go home. Why don’t you call your aunt?”
The anger remained in his daughter’s eyes. “I know what’s going on. It’s all over the school. Ms. Winters got bashed in the head. A lot of people were mad at her. But Tommy and I still need to practice.”
What the detective’s daughter had said just dawned on me. “You’re in the play, too?”
She and Tommy exchanged chummy grins. “Yeah, isn’t it great?” she said.
“Sherry’s got the part of Elaine,” Tommy said. “I’ve got the part of Mortimer Brewster.”
I met Detective Scott’s startled gaze. For one of the very first times, I could precisely read his thoughts. Dismay. Our teenagers were in the same play. Their parts involved romance. With each other.
Chapter Three
Detective Scott cleared his throat. Tommy and Sherry severed their glances.
“I’d like to speak with you in the hall,” the detective said to his daughter.
She whirled on her heel without a word and headed for the library door. He followed her with a stiff back.
The situation wasn’t good. Neither was Tommy’s expression. Worry creased his brow.
“Detective Scott wants to talk to you,” I said. “I do, too.”
“Yeah,” Tommy said. “But I gotta get to work after he talks to me, and I still have to get my trig book from my locker.”
I glanced at my watch. “I’ll go get the book and then wait for you. Why don’t you give me the combination?”
“Okay, but can’t we talk later?” he asked.
Was he avoiding me? “No, I’ll wait,” I said. “I’ll go get the book right now, then I’ll be back. We can talk on the way to your car.”
Tommy told me how to get into his locker. I heaved myself from the chair and across the room. Then, as I reached for the library door handle, Detective Scott opened the doors and passed me with a scowl on his face.
Out in the hall, Sherry stood with her face twisted in her own scowl, watching her father shut the doors. She noticed me and made an effort to smile then turned to leave. She was heading the same way I was.
I stepped up and walked next to her. “I’m going to Tommy’s locker to get a book.”
“My locker is in the same hall. Corporal Fletcher is meeting me.” Her words were chopped and tense.
“He’s a nice man,” I said by way of trying to soothe her.
“Yeah, maybe, but he’s my dad’s friend.”
She said “dad’s friend” as if it were a bad word. Things were definitely not good at the Scott household. Maybe I could distract her by asking her some questions.
“So, how long have you and Tommy known each other?” I thought it odd that he hadn’t mentioned her before. The school wasn’t that large.
“Only this year,” she said. “We met the first day of school. He helped me settle in. I was in a private school before.” She glanced at me. “I lived with my mom until this year.”
“Where was that?” I asked.
“Virginia Beach,” she said. “My stepdad is in the military. He just got transferred overseas.”
“It must be rough to switch schools so close to graduation.”
She shrugged. “I’m used to moving around. I wanted to go with them.”
“And you couldn’t?”
She shook her head, brows lowered. “All the adults got together and made the decision. Nobody asked me what I wanted.” The tone of her voice was bitter.
“Your dad mentioned your aunt. Is that his sister?”
Sherry nodded. “Yeah, Aunt Elissa. She moved in with me and dad for this year.” She glanced at me. “They say it’s because she’s on leave right now and needs to rethink her life. I know it’s because they think I’m going to do something stupid. She’s my keeper.”
I glanced at her and realized there was far more to her than met the eye. “Any particular reason they think that?”
She stared straight ahead. “I don’t always do what I’m told.”
I wondered what that meant. She didn’t look like she used drugs, but one couldn’t always tell by physical appearance.
She peeked at me and read my thoughts correctly. “It’s nothing like you’re thinking. I just have definite ideas about how things should be. I didn’t want to move in with my dad, and I threatened to run away.”
That made me smile. “I threatened to run away a lot when I was in high school.”
“You did?” She seemed surprised.
“Sure.”
“Well, what did your parents do?”
“My mother offered to help me pack.”
Sherry stared at me in disbelief, then she laughed, a contagious sound that made me join in. “Wow. That’s reverse psychology, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, but it turned out okay. Nobody got upset, which really helped calm me down.”
“I wish my dad was calm.” The expression on her face became gloomy.
“He’s worried, I’m sure. If you haven’t lived with him before this, he’s probably feeling overwhelmed.”
“Yeah, that’s what Aunt Elissa says.”
By that time, we’d reached the hall where the lockers were located. I stopped short. I saw Corporal Fletcher and another deputy poking around in a locker, while a third looked on.
I charged up to them. “What are you doing? Is that Tommy’s?”
“No need to get excited, Mrs. C.,” the corporal said. “We’re just doing a routine investigation.”
“Yes, but why Tommy’s locker?” I wondered if this had to do with Detective Scott questioning him. Was my son a suspect?
The corporal gently took my elbow. I allowed him to pull me away, mostly because I knew I wouldn’t have any choice in the matter. Sherry’s cold and distant expression as she watched the other deputy work reminded me of her father.
When the corporal and I had walked a ways down the hall, he let go of my arm. “Everything is fine. We just need to eliminate Tommy.”
“Eliminate him? From what? Is he. . .” My voice trailed off. Tommy had been in the right place at the right time to commit murder. This was not good. Not at all.
I got back to the library just in time for Tommy to open the door.
“I have to get to work,” he said.
“I know. I’ll walk with you to your car.”
“Did you get my book?” he asked.
“Yes.” I glanced at him. “After I convinced the deputies searching your locker to give it to me.”
Tommy’s nostrils flared. “They were searching my locker? Why?”
“To eliminate you,” I said.
He took a deep breath. “I just talked to Dad.”
“You reached him?”
“Yeah. I caught him just when he was leaving a meeting.”
“And?” I asked.
“I told him everything is fine. He was really worried about you, but I told him that you’re okay. He told me to tell you to call him when you get home. He’ll keep his phone on vibrate, so even if he’s in a meeting, he can get it.”
I felt like Tommy was trying to distract me, so I gave him my mother eye. “Is everything really fine?”
“Yes.”
The mother eye didn’t work. He wouldn’t look at me. “What did Detective Scott ask you?”
Tommy stared straight ahead. “Probably the same things he asked you.”
“And that would be?”
“Just why I was here and what I was doing. I told him I was practicing.”
We reached the door that led to the parking lot. “So, what’s with you and Sherry?”
He shrugged. “She’s really cool. We’re in the play together.”
I suspected she was more than cool, but he wasn’t going to tell me. Besides, his legs were so long, and he was walking so fast, I was having trouble keeping up with him.
“Someone told me you were looking for Georgia?”
We’d reached his car, and he unlocked the door. “Yeah, I had to talk to her. Listen, I have to get to work.” He leaned down and kissed my forehead, an action so like his father that I couldn’t speak. “It’ll all be okay, you just wait and see.”
I considered Tommy’s words as I stopped by the local Dairy Delite for a chocolate milkshake. I needed something in my stomach besides packaged crackers. My nerves felt ragged, like they’d been scraped raw on a cement sidewalk. I hoped that something sweet and chocolaty would soothe me.
When a picture of Georgia’s body flickered through my mind, I deliberately turned my thoughts to other things. The problem was, everything that came to mind right now was disturbing. Seeing Georgia dead. And Tommy. The fact that he’d made such an effort to assure me not to worry made me worried. What was so significant that Detective Scott had reason to search Tommy’s locker? How big a suspect was he?
As I pulled around to the drive-through, I finally hit on a good memory. All the nights I’d come here with my best friend, Abbie, when we were in high school. That made me realize I hadn’t spoken to her in a couple of days. I really needed to talk to her now.
At the drive-up window, I ordered a milkshake and looked inside and saw the manager, Norma. I waved at her out of politeness, and she hustled over to the window, pushing aside the teenager who had just taken my order.
“Trish! Oh my! I heard about what happened at the school. How horrible for you!”
“It wasn’t pleasant.”
Norma had a habit of speaking in exclamation points. She leaned out the window, her chest smashed on the sill. I wondered if it hurt.
“I can just imagine!” She tried to wiggle closer to me, and I was afraid she was going to cut herself in half. “What was it like?”
“What was what like?” I asked.
“You know,” Norma said in a stage whisper. She glanced over her shoulder, which put her at risk for losing her balance and falling out the window. “Finding her. I can’t even imagine that.”
“Um. . .it was unpleasant?” Her relish for details about Georgia’s death was going to ruin my appetite for a milk shake.
She nodded as though I’d said something terribly profound. “I understand, I really do.”
I doubted that. Not unless she’d ever found a dead body.
“You know,” Norma continued, “she was the kind of person who was easy to be mad at.”
Her comment rang a bell, and I remembered that Sherry Scott had said something similar. “How come?” I asked.
“Oh! I went to
school with her, you know. She was overbearing, but lately!”
“Lately?” I asked.
“Well, she’s gotten a real attitude. Especially with her family. I’m sure there are a few people who will be happy she’s dead.”
Happy? What a dreadful thing to say. Someone called her name at the same time my milk shake arrived. I watched with relief as she pulled herself back inside the window.
As I drove away, I passed the strip mall where my mother had her doughnut shop, Doris’s Doughnuts. I thought about stopping, but I didn’t want to face the grilling I’d get there. I’d wait until I got home to call her.
The milkshake had the desired effect. In just a few miles, my stomach wasn’t churning anymore. I had managed to tamp down all my screaming worries and enjoy the scenery. Only two minutes out of town in any direction and everything turns to farm fields. I could tell fall was coming. The lush fields were no longer green with growth. The trees would start changing colors soon.
The serene landscape made me feel peaceful. I took a deep breath, relaxed my shoulders, and began to look forward to my evening with Max. When my cell phone rang again, I eagerly dug it out of my purse, but when I glanced at the little screen, my heart plummeted. It was my mother.
Chapter Four
I debated answering my cell phone at all. I love my mother, but I don’t always like talking to her. That’s because of the conversational arrows I have to evade. Still, she’d probably heard about the murder, and I didn’t want her to worry.
I pushed the button and jammed the phone against my ear. “Hi, Ma. Did Daddy pick up Charlie and Sammie after school?”
“Of course he did,” she said. “When we say we’ll babysit, we always do it. We don’t ignore things like some people do. I saw you drive right by the shop. I can’t believe you didn’t stop, and you haven’t called me. Once again, I’m the last to know that my daughter is involved in a crime.”
I sighed. “I’m not involved in a crime. I don’t even know if it really was a crime. Maybe it was an accident. Besides, I haven’t even talked to Max yet, so you aren’t left out.”
“Well, I’m your mother. And it was a crime. I heard it was murder. I nearly had a heart attack. One day you’re going to kill me. It’s just hard to believe that I actually carried you for nine months and you could be so insensitive. And the labor was the worst pain of my life. . . .”
Band Room Bash Page 3