Little Broken Things

by Cheryl Bradshaw

  “Olivia Spencer was one of your students, right?” I asked.

  “A few years ago, yes.”

  “Did you ever flirt with her or do anything to make her feel uncomfortable while she attended this school?”

  He huffed out an angry, “No! Of course not. Who are you, anyway? What’s this about?”

  “She’s the detective overseeing Olivia’s murder investigation,” Leslie said.

  Scott grabbed a glass off of one of the shelves, filled it with water, and swallowed it down.

  Leslie had been eyeballing him ever since we’d entered the room like she no longer recognized him.

  “Scott used to tutor Olivia, after school, at our house,” she said.

  Scott choked on the water in his mouth and glared at her. “I’ve tutored several students over the years. Most of the time, you were there with me, Leslie.”

  “Most of the time isn’t all of the time, Scott,” Leslie spat.

  “How long did you tutor Olivia?” I asked.

  “Her sophomore year, I believe.”

  “Did Olivia’s parents know you were tutoring their daughter?” I asked.

  Scott nodded. “They did. Nothing happened. Not a damn thing. Not with Olivia or anyone else.”

  “What about Kennedy Nixon? Did you tutor her?”

  He drummed his fingers along the countertop and whispered her name to himself like he was trying to place her.

  “Oh, come off it, Scott!” Leslie said. “You tutored Kennedy after school for two years.”

  Scott put the empty water glass into the sink and grabbed a notebook off the table. “I’m done answering questions. I have a class in five minutes.”

  He made a swift exit, flashing me a smug look on his way out, a look which sickened me. The girl he’d kissed in Texas hadn’t been the only one. There were others, like Abigail, he’d crossed the line with too. It was a gut feeling I had, and my gut feelings were never wrong.

  He left the room with a look on his face like he was pleased he’d had the last word, but he’d underestimated the woman he was dealing with, and I wasn’t done yet. I stepped into the hall, approached a group of girls chatting away at full volume, and said, “Hey, I was wondering … do you have an intercom system in this school, or a room where someone makes announcements to the students each day?”

  A freckle-faced girl in black leggings and a pink, button-up crop top knotted at the waist pointed to one of the rooms across the hall. “Yup, it’s in there.”

  I made a beeline for the room she’d pointed out, pleased to find it was empty. I closed and locked the door behind me, sat in front of the intercom, and switched it on. “Students, may I have your attention please? My name is Detective Georgiana Germaine. It has come to my attention that your math teacher, Mr. Scott Bartlett, has been involved in some inappropriate behavior with some of his female students over the years. If anyone is willing to share their story, you can find me at the San Luis Obispo Police Department. I know how hard it can be to tell your story. If you’d rather come in and keep your statement anonymous, you can. Also, two girls from this school have died in the last few years. One whose death was accidental, and one who was murdered. I need your help to catch the man responsible for Olivia Spencer’s murder. If you have any information, please come forward. I hope you all have a wonderful day. Thanks for listening.”

  Chapter 34

  I managed to make it back to my car, which I’d parked in the high school parking lot, unscathed. I was sure the principal, along with a handful of others on staff, were reeling after hearing my impromptu public service announcement. I’d baited the hook. Now I’d wait to see if I got any bites.

  Beneath the left windshield wiper of my car, a crumpled-up note had been folded in half and left for me to find. I took it out and opened it. The note wasn’t a note at all. It was a poem. I sat in the driver’s seat, staring at the handwriting I’d come to recognize. It was Olivia’s.

  Who had left the poem on my windshield and why?

  And what were they trying to tell me?

  I read it aloud and had my answer.

  * * *

  you’re smaller than a blueberry

  and yet, i know you’re there

  stirring inside me

  * * *

  i want nothing more

  than to love you

  to care for you

  to be your mother for

  the rest of your life

  * * *

  and yet, i’m not sure i can

  or what would happen if i did

  or if i could survive

  knowing that your entrance

  into this world wasn’t the

  entrance you deserved

  * * *

  and so, forgive me, little one

  my dearest sweetheart

  * * *

  forgive me for choosing

  my own life over yours

  no matter what happens

  i will love you … always

  Chapter 35

  I took a seat next to Harvey in his hospital bed and said, “You’re looking a lot better. Have they said when they’re going to let you out of here yet?”

  He shook his head. “They just keep saying soon, which is their way of answering the question without answering the question.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Not bad, all things considered. Expect I’ll be back to normal in a few days. How’s the investigation going?”

  “You sure you want me to talk about it?”

  He glanced around the room like he was going stir-crazy. “I’m bored out of my mind. Indulge this old man, will you?”

  “It’s been a busy day so far.”

  “Oh, yeah? You gettin’ anywhere yet?”

  “I have my eye on one of the teachers at the local high school. I found out he was fired from the last school he’d taught at for kissing a student. Olivia’s friend Abigail had some issues with him when she was in his class, and it turns out he tutored Olivia after school at his home for a time. He tutored Kennedy Nixon too.”

  “Did he now … interesting.”

  I glanced over my shoulder, making sure my mother hadn’t returned from the cafeteria yet. “There’s, ahh, something else. Someone left a poem beneath the windshield of my car. The handwriting … it’s Olivia’s.”

  I took a copy of the poem out of my handbag and handed it to Harvey. He reached for his glasses, sat up, and scanned through the words.

  “Unless she was writing about someone other than herself, I believe at one point, Olivia was pregnant,” I blurted. “She must have had an abortion. I doubt her parents knew about it. If they did, I’m sure they would have said something to me.”

  “Even if her parents don’t know, someone does. Someone left this poem for you to find.”

  “My guess? Leslie Bartlett, Olivia’s poetry teacher. I’ll get in touch with her once school lets out for the day.”

  “Good plan.”

  Harvey handed the poem back to me and gave me an awkward smile, which told me we were about to have an awkward conversation. Then he cracked his knuckles, a habit he exhibited when he was about to deliver unpleasant news.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “You remember a couple of years ago when I talked you into coming back to town and resuming your position at the department after you’d been living off the grid for a while?”

  “Yeah, what about it?”

  “For a long time, I never thought you’d come back to detective work again. And then you did. It meant a lot to me, and I want you to know the time we’ve worked together has been among the best memories of my life. Your father would be proud of the detective you’ve become.”

  I sat on the edge of the hospital bed, contemplating his words—what he’d said, what he hadn’t. And then I said something I didn’t want to say. “You’re not coming back, are you? You’ve decided to retire.”

  “It’s time, Gigi. Hate to admit it, but your mother’s
right. Putting in so many hours is like being married to two women, and as we both know, your mother is all the woman one man can handle in life.”

  I wanted to laugh.

  I wanted to cry.

  I wanted to be selfish, to refuse to accept we’d no longer be working together.

  He was doing what was right for him, just as I had done what was right for me after Fallon had died.

  “When you had a heart attack last night, all I could think about was what we needed to do to keep you around as long as possible,” I said. “If it means stepping down from your position, I understand, and I support you. Although, I will admit I hope they find a better replacement than this Blackwell guy.”

  “I don’t know much about him, but what I’ve heard hasn’t been good.”

  “If Ivan Blackwell stays in his lane and out of mine, we’ll be okay. If not …”

  Paul entered the room alongside Simone.

  She looked at me and said, “Did you just say ‘Ivan Blackwell’?”

  “Yeah, why? Do you know him?”

  She nodded. “How do you know him?”

  “He’s standing in for Harvey as the interim chief of police.”

  “For how long?”

  “I don’t know. Why?”

  “He’s not the easiest person to get along with, Gigi.”

  “Tell me about it. We met this morning. It didn’t go well.”

  I said my goodbyes to Harvey, gave my brother a quick hug, and stepped into the hallway with Simone.

  “Okay, spill it,” I said. “You have history with Blackwell. How bad is it?”

  She leaned against the wall and crossed one leg over the other. “All right. Remember when I told you I used to be a police officer in San Francisco?”

  “Yeah, you left law enforcement to become a forensic pathologist.”

  “Ivan Blackwell is the reason I changed career paths. Back then, he was head of my department. We didn’t get along.”

  “The guy has an abrasive personality, but I’m guessing there’s a lot more you’re about to tell me.”

  She nodded. “About ten years ago, I was out on patrol. Officer Williams was my partner at the time. About eight o’clock, we received a call about a black man lurking around someone’s back yard. We arrived at the house, went around back, and noticed the yard was fenced all the way around. We tried the wooden gate. It was locked, but some of the slats had rotted away enough for us to get a good look at the young man in the back yard.”

  “What happened?”

  “We identified ourselves, and he identified himself as Tyler Gibson. He said he’d open the gate. As he walked toward it, Officer Williams swore he saw something in Tyler’s hand. He decided it was a gun, and before we could determine whether it was or not, Williams scaled the fence and started shooting. Gibson was shot three times. He died before I could even get the medics on the phone.”

  I remembered seeing the story on the news.

  As it turned out, Tyler didn’t have a gun in his hand or on his person.

  “I seem to remember the pants Tyler was wearing had no pockets, so he was carrying his wallet, a wallet your partner mistook for a gun.”

  Simone nodded. “And the house he was at? It was his cousin’s house. He’d gone over to play video games and was hanging out in the back yard until his cousin arrived home.”

  “The officer you were working with back then, Williams, he wasn’t disciplined, was he?”

  “Nope. He was not.”

  “He still works for the department, right?”

  She nodded. “He’s a detective now. And guess who fought to ensure he was exonerated of all charges brought against him?”

  I didn’t need to guess.

  I already knew.

  Ivan Blackwell.

  Chapter 36

  When Blackwell received news of my shenanigans at the local high school, he called my cell phone, no doubt to cuss me out. He got about four words in before I hung up on him, a move I was sure I’d pay for later. For now, other pressing issues demanded my attention. His reprimand would have to wait.

  Assuming the school was on high alert, watching and waiting for my possible return, I decided to drive by Scott and Leslie Bartlett’s house in the hopes she’d be home and he wouldn’t. Not long after I arrived, she pulled up behind me, parked, and headed in my direction.

  “The entire school is talking about you,” she said. “Principal Warner isn’t happy.”

  “I’m sure he isn’t.”

  “What are you doing here?” she asked. “Scott will be home any minute.”

  “This won’t take long. As I was leaving the high school today, I noticed someone had left a poem beneath my car’s windshield. I was hoping you’d read it.”

  I handed it to her. She looked it over and then stared at me, stunned.

  “Was it you?” I asked. “Did you leave this on my car?”

  “I … no. It wasn’t me.”

  “Did Olivia ever write poems about babies or pregnancy or … abortion?”

  “Not that I recall, though I’m certain the handwriting is hers.” She leaned against my car and folded her arms. “So many secrets in this town. I’m not sure how much more I can take.”

  “How did things go with Scott after I left the school?” I asked. “Have you seen or spoken to him?”

  “He tried striking up a conversation with me in between classes. I don’t know what to think. I’m having a hard time believing a word he says now. After Olivia’s funeral, I’m going to my parents’ house for the weekend—maybe even longer. I need time to think—away from him.”

  “If it helps, I can wait around for a bit. Who knows how he’ll react when he realizes you’re taking off.”

  “I’ll be fine. My mom is on her way over now He knows better than to mess with her.”

  Something we had in common.

  “One last question before I go,” I said. “Is Scott tutoring anyone at the moment?”

  “One girl, Molly Simpkins. I called her parents on my way home and said he’s too busy to tutor her for a while. I gave them the name of a retired teacher I know who also tutors from time to time. They’ve already booked a session with her.”

  “Good thinking.”

  She slung her handbag over her shoulder and walked toward her house. “Until I know who my husband is and who he isn’t, I’m not taking any chances.”

  Chapter 37

  I entered the chapel and stood at the back, amazed at the turnout for Olivia’s funeral service. Aside from Olivia’s family, I saw the familiar faces of many people I’d questioned over the last week. Shawn noticed me when I walked in and acknowledged me with a nod. Before I’d arrived at the chapel, I phoned his alibis for the night Olivia died. They confirmed the story he’d told me. Even so, he wasn’t off my radar yet.

  I scanned the room and saw Abigail sitting next to David. To my surprise, they were holding hands. It seemed she’d taken my advice and dropped by his house after all. Casper was sitting with his parents, sobbing against his mother’s shoulder. The love he had for Olivia was apparent. Maybe he was right, and I was wrong. Maybe true love was possible to achieve in such a short amount of time.

  Roxie was sitting next to a man I assumed was her father—Lars Moreno, one of the best lawyers in the county. No wonder she was out on bail. She met my gaze and held it for a time before looking away, the mischievous expression on her face giving me the feeling she was guilty of something.

  Was she guilty of something or did the funeral service have me on edge?

  Aunt Laura slid in next to me and draped an arm around my shoulder. “How are you doing today?”

  “All right. Hoping there’s a break in Olivia’s case before the week’s out.”

  It was Saturday evening.

  The odds weren’t in my favor.

  But the week wasn’t over yet.

  “I’m not talking about the case,” she said. “I’m talking about Harvey’s decision to retire.”
<
br />   It was a loaded question—one I wasn’t sure how to answer.

  “I don’t know how I’m going to continue working for the department without him,” I said. “He’s been by my side since day one. I’ve never worked for anyone else before.”

  “I believe you’re going about it the wrong way.”

  “I didn’t know there was a right way.”

  She grinned. “I believe everything in life happens for a reason. So Harvey won’t be the police chief anymore, and he’s decided to close that chapter of his life. Just because one door has closed to you doesn’t mean you’re stuck behind it. There’s more than one door to life, kiddo. Find your way to the next one, open it, and see what’s on the other side. I bet you’ll be surprised.”

  She was the wisest woman I knew, her advice often reminding me of my father.

  The sermon began, the pastor sharing several memories of Olivia throughout her life while a photo montage of Olivia from birth to present day played on a screen behind him. Following his remarks, those from the audience who wished to share a few words were invited to approach the microphone. A couple dozen people stood, walking to the front and forming a line, one behind the other.

  Casper also stood. I thought he planned to join the rest of the line at first, but when he ambled to the end of the row he’d been sitting in, he turned in the opposite direction, heading straight for Shawn.

  “Shit,” I muttered under my breath.

  Aunt Laura caught sight of him and rubbed her hands together. “Well, now. This should be interesting.”

  I speed-walked toward Shawn, the floodgates of a heartbroken Casper pouring out in the meantime. He pointed at Shawn and said, “You! You did this to her! She’s dead because of you!”

  One look at Roxie, and I understood Casper’s sudden flare-up. She’d gotten to him, filling his mind with her unsubstantiated opinions about Shawn, and his possible role in Olivia’s death. I had to hand it to her, she’d been smarter this time around, enlisting someone other than herself to take the heat while doing her bidding.