by Glen Ebisch
Chapter 11
We all stared at the noose for a moment as though a body were slowly swinging from it. The shock seemed to bring Elaine completely back to her senses.
“What happened?” I asked.
“I . . . I’m not sure. After you left me I stayed in the lobby for a while talking with a couple of girls on their way out, then I came up here. I remember opening the door and coming inside, but just as I turned on the lights something hit me.”
I patted her hand and made a soothing sound.
Templeton got up from where he had been slouching in the only chair. “Was the window unlocked when you left the room?”
“No. I always lock it, because the fire escape landing is right outside.”
“Then whoever was here must have opened it to escape,” I said. “But how did he get in?”
“Vicky’s key was never found,” Templeton answered.
“How do you know?” I asked.
“I gave a security guard a small gift in return for some information. No key was found on her body, so the murderer probably has it.”
“Damn,” I said.
“Indeed, and if we hadn’t gotten here when we did, you’d be hanging up there now,” Templeton said to Elaine, pointing to the dangling circle, “It wouldn’t be pretty, and the murderer would have arranged it so everyone thought it was suicide. People would say, ‘The poor girl, I guess she couldn’t take it anymore and decided to end it all. But maybe it’s for the best.’”
“You don’t have to frighten her!” I said angrily. Elaine stared at the noose as though mesmerized. I climbed up on the chair and pulled the rope down. “You said yourself that the murderer only wants to frighten Elaine.”
“Perhaps his plans have changed. Maybe he’s concerned that she’s a greater threat than he originally thought.” Templeton said. He turned to Elaine who was lying limply on the bed. “I want you to understand that someone may actually kill you unless we find out who murdered Vicki. I want you to be so sure of this that you tell us the truth instead of lies.”
“She is telling us the truth,” I said and turned to Elaine, “Aren’t you?”
Elaine looked around as if this was one of those times when she didn’t know how to act. “Well, Templeton is sort of right, Charlie, I didn’t lie, but I haven’t told you everything.”
“Perhaps you should begin now, while there is still time,” Templeton suggested.
Elaine took a deep breath. “I told you before that I didn’t know anything about why Vicki got away with things, and that wasn’t exactly true. About two months ago she asked me if I could get her student file from Mr. Hawthorne’s office some time when I was working in there by myself.”
“Why did she want the file?” I asked.
“She told me that she had been referred to a psychologist because of some problems at her last school, and there was a report of the referral in her file. She didn’t want that kind of information to follow her here.”
“But Hawthorne had already seen it,” said Templeton.
“Sure, and Vicki said he had been very nice about it, but she was afraid that next year when she had a new advisor it might be held against her. I could understand that; after all some people think that once you’ve been crazy you never get over it.”
“What did she do with the folder when she got it? I’m assuming that you did steal it for her?” Templeton asked.
“More like borrowed, really. All she did was take out one piece of paper while I watched, then give the file back to me to return to Mr. Hawthorne’s office the next day. I don’t think he ever noticed it was missing.”
“Did you see what was on the paper?” Templeton demanded.
“No.”
“Do you know what she did with it?” he asked.
Elaine shook her head. “All she told me was that she put it someplace where only crazy people like ourselves would think to look. And since all of her things have been sent home to her family in Connecticut, it’s probably gone.”
“Let us hope not,” Templeton responded, flopping into the chair and putting the tips of his fingers under his chin. He carefully surveyed the room. “What other words are there that mean the same as ‘crazy’?”
“Insane, mad, lunatic,” I began.
“Irrational, mentally ill, neurotic, psychotic,” Elaine said.
“Bonkers, nuts—” I said
“Nuts! That just might be it, Wood,” said Templeton, walking over to the wall by the door and taking down the plaque with the school crest. With a look of triumph he removed a piece of cardboard that was taped to the back. “Fortunately the fruit of knowledge is acorns, and these nuts have fallen on fertile ground,” he announced dramatically. As he read, his expression became thoughtful.
“What’s the matter? What is it?” I asked.
“A transcript of Vicki’s grades from her last school.”
“But I really thought it was a psychiatrist’s report of some kind,” Elaine said, as though we were about to accuse her of lying again.
“I’m sure you did, but apparently Vicki was not above lying, even to you. Nor was she a very good student. There are a number of ‘D’s’ and ‘F’s’ here,” Templeton said, and turned to Elaine. “You said before that you knew why Vicki got special treatment. Why was that?”
“Well, I thought she had a history of emotional problems, and that was why Mr. Hawthorne gave her special permission to do things. But now I don’t know.”
“What did he give her permission to do?” I asked.
“To go into town during the week, to miss bed check, stuff like that.”
“And you are sure that it was Hawthorne who gave her this permission?” asked Templeton.
“Yes, I sometimes saw him sign the permission slips myself.”
Templeton leaned against the wall and swung one of his long thin legs back and forth like a pendulum. I don’t think he was aware he was doing it. He was lost in thought and his body had to sort of take care of itself until he came back to the real world again.
“Our course of action is obvious, but I’m afraid that some risk is involved,” he finally said.
“I’m ready,” Elaine said a little too quickly.
“No, this is something for Wood and me to do. We must break into the headmaster’s office and check Vicki’s official records.”
“Don’t be silly,” Elaine said with a laugh.
Templeton glared at her as though silliness was one thing he had never been guilty of in his life.
“Just tell me what you want. I use the files in the headmaster’s office almost every day when I check things for Mr. Hawthorne. The secretaries know me well enough now that I can get into the files without attracting any attention.”
“Find the headmaster’s official list of Vicki’s previous grades and compare it with this,” Templeton said, tossing her the sheet he had taken from behind the plaque.
“I’ll do better than that. I’ll make a photocopy of the headmaster’s card so you can compare it yourself,” she said flipping it back to him.
“Humph,” Templeton grunted. “Do whatever you want. But do it quickly and don’t get caught.”
“You’ll have it on Monday,” Elaine said, giving Templeton a mock salute.
“What are we supposed to be looking for?” I asked.
“For the motive for blackmail. If your memory can go back a month, Wood, to when you first joined us, you’ll recall that Hawthorne copied the grades from your high school transcript onto a large yellow card. That card is what goes on file in the headmaster’s office and is the basis for your cumulative average and class rank. If the grades on the headmaster’s form are higher than these, then we know that Hawthorne deliberately gave Vicki inflated grades.”
“But why would he do that?” I asked.
“For money,” Elaine suggested.
“Of course,” said Templeton. “Vicky came from a well-off family as all of us do, and she had a lot of poor grades. Hawthorne offer
s to change the grades for a price so she has a better chance of getting into college. She writes home and says things are more expensive than she thought, and she needs a little extra allowance. She pays Hawthorne and in one stroke improves her chances in life and his meager scholarly income.”
“But what went wrong?” Elaine asked.
“You have it in your hand. Vicky decided it might be fun to blackmail Hawthorne. With this official transcript she could prove that Hawthorne had changed her grades. There are probably too many changes for him to claim he just copied the grades incorrectly, and if she went to the headmaster with this kind of proof, Hawthorne would never work in education again.”
“But wouldn’t Vicki have gotten in trouble, too?” asked Elaine.
“Not as much as he would, and with her ability to lie, she could probably have convinced the headmaster that she didn’t know what was happening,” I said. “You know, I remember now that when I first met with Hawthorne that he seemed kind of disappointed that my grades were so good. I bet this is something he’s done with other kids.”
“Yes,” said Templeton, “but none of the others were more devious than he was. Vicky probably got tired after a while of being paid off in special privileges and demanded money. Hawthorne became desperate.”
“Sure,” I said. “He killed Vicki, and then sent that motorcycle gang after Elaine because he was afraid she knew about his grade scam from Vicki. When she didn’t crack up, he decided he had to kill her, too. And he came visiting tonight.”
“So that’s why she got special permission to do things,” Elaine said sadly. “She never was mentally ill. And she got killed over a few bucks. Poor Vicki.”
“Poor Vicki, indeed,” said Templeton. “Remember she lied to you and used you. Her only mental problem was greed. Ultimately she was nothing more than a common blackmailer.”
“She was my friend!” Elaine said fiercely.
“You should have higher standards for friendship,” said Templeton.
“Oh, yeah, and you’re so wonderful. Charlie told me how the two of you blackmailed those bikers for information by threatening to go to the cops. There’s no difference between that and what Vicki did.”
“But we didn’t do it to get money. We’re only trying to help you,” I protested.
“Maybe you are, but he’s in it just for the thrills,” she said, nodding at Templeton.
Templeton looked at her with something close to admiration. “Possibly you are right, but I am also in it for the truth.”
“Well, now we have the truth,” I said. “All we need is the final piece of evidence that Elaine is going to get for us on Monday and the case is solved.”
Elaine gave a smile of relief. Templeton didn’t.
Chapter 12
The next day was Sunday, but I got up early to get started on the studying I would have done on Saturday if I hadn’t gone to visit a motorcycle gang. Catching murderers could certainly interfere with homework.
Last night, Templeton had refused at first to discuss the case any further after we left Elaine’s room. He flapped his hand at my questions as though he were swatting flies, until I gave up. Then he had sat in his usual chair, thrown some more wood in the fireplace, and stared at the flames with so much intensity that you’d have thought they’d somehow offended him.
“What’s the matter?” I finally had asked.
“We have a problem.”
“What do you mean ‘we’? The case is solved as far as I’m concerned. All we need to cinch it is the card Elaine is going to copy for us on Monday.”
“You think it’s solved, but it isn’t,” he had answered and gone quiet.
“You missed a good detective movie tonight, The Maltese Falcon. You would have enjoyed it; the plot was real challenging,” I’d said, just to be friendly.
“Bah! The end comes as a surprise only because you spend most of the movie concentrating on who stole the statue of the bird rather than on who committed the murder. The first step in detection is to decide how many criminals are involved.”
“Okay.” I’d tried another conversation starter. “Why do you say Vicki’s murder hasn’t been solved?”
Templeton had given a deep sigh like an adult being annoyed by a persistent child. “Because two questions remain unanswered. Why would the person who murdered Vicki hire the bikers only to scare Elaine? If you are willing to kill once, why not twice? If the killer was a man, he could have waited along the road that leads from the highway bus stop up to the school and killed both of them that night. Why involve the bikers?
“The second question is, why would Hawthorne, if he met Vicki behind the restaurant to kill her, drive back to North Hill with the body and dump it in his own back yard?”
“Maybe you just violated the ‘first rule of detection’? Maybe there are two criminals instead of one,” I’d said, just to get his goat.
The effect had been phenomenal! His body had jerked spasmodically as he twisted around to face me. “What did you say?”
“Maybe there were two criminals,” I’d said weakly. I figured I’d done something else particularly stupid.
Templeton had returned to not speaking and sat silently before the fire for the rest of the night.
* * *
He was still in the same spot when I woke up early Sunday morning, but by then all he was staring at were ashes. I was determined not to speak first, so I sat at my desk and began working on chemistry. After an hour or so of that, I went out to get breakfast at the dining hall. When I returned, Templeton had a battered portable typewriter set up on his table and was pounding away furiously. That went on for what seemed like hours until finally, with a grunt of satisfaction, he pulled the paper from the machine, threw on his coat, and rushed out without a word.
A few minutes later there was a knock on the door. When I opened it, there stood Sergeant Foster and next to him a nervous looking young guy in a rumpled gray suit.
“We’d like to speak with you for a few minutes, Wood,” Foster said, pushing past me into the room. Over his shoulder he said casually, “This is Sergeant Stromberg of the police. He’s in charge of the investigation into Vicki Girard’s death.” Something in the tone of Foster’s voice suggested that he thought Stromberg wasn’t fit to investigate a parking ticket, let alone a murder.
Stromberg cleared his throat and stared up at the ceiling as though looking for some inspired questions. “I’ve already spoken with Ms. Elaine Sharp, and she’s told me about your confrontation with the bikers. But could you please tell me what happened, in your own words?”
I repeated my story, but it was difficult to concentrate with Foster prowling around behind me as though he were searching for something. Which he probably was: something—anything—that would get Templeton in trouble.
“Did you see anyone from the time you left this building until the time when you ran into Ms. Sharp?” Stromberg asked when I was through.
“She ran into me,” I corrected. “And no, I didn’t see anyone.”
“What about on the way back? I understand you escorted Ms. Sharp back to her dormitory, although Miss Carmody didn’t see her come in.”
“Yeah. I walked back with her to the dorm, but we didn’t see anyone on the way back either.” I didn’t like lying, but the idea of squealing on Jameson and spending another year in junior English didn’t appeal to me either. Plus, if I admitted to one lie, they’d tear my whole story apart quickly enough and find out that Elaine had spent the night in my room.
“Are you certain you didn’t see anyone?” Foster’s voice cracked like a whip from somewhere behind me.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” I said without turning to look at him.
“What time did you leave Ms. Sharp at the dorm?” Stromberg asked.
“It must have been around eleven forty-five.”
“Give or take how many minutes?” Foster asked.
I ignored him. He came around in front of me and stared. “I asked you a question, son.
I expect an answer.”
“I don’t know. I didn’t look at my watch.”
Stromberg seemed to have run out of questions. He thanked me and stood rocking back and forth nervously as Foster slowly completed his survey of the room. Finally he nodded to Stromberg and they headed out. At the door Foster turned back. “Tell Templeton that I’m reporting his illegal use of the fireplace to the headmaster,” he said with a nasty grin.
Great! I thought. If Templeton had been here he would have found some way to hide the ashes. Now I’d get the blame for another bonehead move.
Aside from a quick trip out for lunch I spent the rest of the day in the room by myself. Once or twice, when I glanced out the window during study breaks, I could see Templeton striding with determination across the campus from one building to another, but he didn’t come back to the room. Maybe it was just as well, because I was in no hurry to give him Foster’s message.
I had planned to visit Elaine after dinner to see if she was okay and double check what time she was going to pass along the copy of Vicki’s headmaster’s card to me tomorrow; but when I went into the dining hall around five, she was already there with a couple of other girls. Relieved to see her safe and sound, I sat with them.
I hadn’t been very worried about Elaine because before we left her room last night, Templeton and I had moved her dresser so that with a small shove she would be able to use it to block the door. I’d gotten her to promise that she would ask Miss Carmody to have the janitor install a new lock on her door—something Miss Carmody would definitely rush to do because of her belief that young ladies should always have locks on their doors in order to keep out young men. The janitor might wonder how the lock had gotten broken, but one look at petite Elaine and he certainly would never accuse her of having done it.
Templeton had assured us that the murderer probably would not strike the next day because on Sundays the dorm was always crowded, and it would also be easy for Elaine to find other people to walk with whenever she went out.
I had offered to come over to check on her in the morning and afternoon as well as evening, but Elaine said she was afraid some of the girls would start talking if I came to see her too often. I wasn’t sure what she was worried about, but a depressing suspicion told me she didn’t want people to think we were going steady or anything.