A Lesson in Murder

by Nick Bishop

  “Don’t think I’m crazy, but I’ve been thinking a lot about us.”

  “Glad to hear it. Me too.”

  “And I know this is very short notice, but would you like to come over for dinner.”

  “This evening?”

  “Yeah, about seven”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “Not sure about the fun part.”

  “Oh? Is something wrong?”

  Jed turned on Seneca Drive and then into his driveway.

  “No, I just would like to talk about us. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. If you’d rather not, I certainly understand.”

  “Don’t even think such a thing, Sara. Of course, I’d like to see you.”

  “Maybe I’m getting a little ahead of the game. If you think…”

  “No, I’ve been thinking a lot about us too. You know, you’re the only woman I’ve ever loved.”

  “What a nice thing to say.”

  “It’s true. And I want you back in my life.”

  ***

  “Come on in,” Sara said. “It’s open.”

  Jed opened the door and stepped inside. He’d always loved her place—off-white walls dotted with colorful abstract art, lots of glass in the coffee and end tables, and rich, peach-colored furniture. Beyond was a dining room and kitchen. Jed was surprised to see a candelabra on the table, the candles flickering in the dim light.

  “Almost ready,” Sara said. “If you like you can pour us some wine. Bottle’s on the sideboard by the table. Jed noticed the bottle partially buried in the ice bucket.

  “Wow,” he said. “I’m impressed.”

  Sara wore a clingy, long-sleeved blouse; pale blue with darker blue slacks. “Beautiful,” he said.

  “What is?” she asked.

  “First of all, you are.”

  “Are you trying to embarrass me, Mr. Fredericks?”

  “Just reporting the facts as I see them, ma’am.” He paused. “And the setting too. It’s beautiful.”

  “Thank you, kind sir.”

  Jed poured the wine as Sara brought a covered platter to the table. Roast beef, he thought. As a boy, that had been his favorite Sunday meal, but it had been years since he’d had it. “Looks delicious,” he said.

  “Let’s just hope it is,” Sara said as she set a several side dishes on the table—potatoes, asparagus, and a bowl filled with a salad made of lettuce, tomatoes, peaches and walnuts. He never would have thought of such a combination.

  “All right,” Sara said. “Let’s eat.”

  There were two settings, one at each end of the small table, now covered in a lacy tablecloth.

  “Would you please carve the roast?” Sara asked. “That’s not one of my major accomplishments.”

  “I can try,” Jed answered, “but I don’t boast of my abilities in the world of butchery.”

  “The world of butchery, huh?”

  Jed laughed as he cut off a few thin slices.

  “Let’s just enjoy the meal,” Sara said, “and talk afterward, if that’s okay with you.”

  “I’ll concentrate totally on gastronomic pleasures while I empty my mind of anything else.”

  “You don’t need to go that far.” Sara chuckled. “Besides, I was going to ask you about your investigation. If you’ve made any progress.”

  “We’ve made progress—Ellie and I, as well as Sam Branson. But I’m not sure it’s leading anywhere.”

  “Explain.”

  “It seems as soon as we eliminate a suspect, something happens to put him back on the list.” He told her about Gary and that he and Ellie hoped to be able to talk to him again within the next day or two.

  “Getting a ‘C’ grade seems a pretty unlikely motive for a murder, or so it seems to me.”

  “To me, as well,” Jed answered, “but then there is the story that the boy skipped school the morning Joe was murdered—not because he was ill, as he told us he was, but to go into Dover.”

  “Maybe he was just doing something he didn’t want his parents to know about. Could that be the case?”

  “Possibly. I hope to know more tomorrow.”

  “I hope you’re able to solve the case.”

  “I’m sure we will, eventually, but who knows how long it’s going to take.”

  “How about you?” Jed asked. “Any interesting cases?”

  While they finished the meal, topped off with angel food cake and lime sherbet, they talked mostly about office politics at Sara’s law firm—how one person tried to take credit for ideas others came up with, and how this resulted in a near fist-fight in the reception area.

  “Fortunately, the two attorneys had enough sense to knock it off when the door opened and a client entered.

  Jed laid down his fork and leaned back with a sigh. “That was wonderful,” he said.

  “Glad you liked it,” Sara said.

  “So what did you want to talk about?” Jed asked.

  “It’s difficult.”

  “Why so?”

  “To be honest, I’m unsure of myself.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “When I was a girl, my mother told me about what she called ‘forward women.’”

  “Forward women, huh? And what exactly is a forward woman?”

  “In our society it’s the man who’s expected to make the moves, to initiate dating, to… I’m not saying this very well.”

  “Maybe the best thing to do is just to tell me what you’re thinking. I promise I won’t jump up and run out the door.”

  “But you may walk out and never want to come back.”

  “Sara, let me tell you something. I can’t think of any situation that involves the two of us that I would run away from… or even walk away from. I told you how I feel about you.”

  “And I feel the same about you, Jed. But I don’t know what went wrong.”

  “I’m with you, Sara”

  “We didn’t argue,” Jed said, “I can’t think of any single time when we did. We disagreed, of course. But we never reacted badly to that, neither of us.”

  “I agree with you. It just happened, and I don’t know why.”

  “So what do you propose we do about it?”

  “This is the ‘forward woman’ part. The move a genteel woman would never make.” She laughed at herself. “Jed, I’d like to try again. What do you think?”

  He read vulnerability in her tone and suddenly felt protective, as if he wanted to keep her from all hurt and disappointment for the rest of their lives. “What do I think?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve missed you, Sara. More than I’m capable of explaining. I guess I wasn’t mature enough for an on-going, serious relationship.”

  “Really?”

  “I think I was being much too selfish in my expectations. Like I said the other day and just now, I love you, Sara. I want to be with you. I want to spend every minute I can with you.”

  “Oh, Jed!”

  “It’s true.”

  “I love you too.”

  “So shall we break out the champagne?”

  “Sorry. I didn’t think that far ahead. But I do have a bottle of sparkling water.”

  Jed burst out laughing.

  ***

  Jed checked the time on his cell phone. It was still a few minutes before nine. He decided to call Ellie and see what they could work out for the next day.

  “Ellie Steiner speaking,” a voice answered.

  “Hi, Ellie, it’s Jed.”

  “What’s up?”

  “Hope I’m not calling too late.”

  “You kidding! I’m a night owl. Never go to bed before ten!”

  Jed laughed. “I see. Well, in that case I don’t feel guilty.”

  “Anything special?”

  “Just wondering about our game plan. We need to talk to several people—Briner, Gary, the principal, and Laura. Can you think of anyone else?”

  “Jacob Yoder is out, so far as I’m concerned, and so is the man in Michiga
n. So it has to be one of those four. And I don’t see how it could possibly be Old Sneaky.”

  “I don’t either. But I’ll talk to him tomorrow and tell him it’s just to see if we missed anything when we talked earlier.”

  “Right after school?”

  “Why not?” Jed answered.

  “Okay, and then maybe we can go talk with Laura, see if she remembers anything else she didn’t think of the first time.”

  I’ll give her a call and ask if she’s up to seeing us again. I’ll let you know at school tomorrow what she says.”

  “Have a good night, Jed.”

  “You too.”

  At least for the evening Sugar had shed her standoffish approach. Both she and Spice demanded Jed’s attention.

  “Tell you what, guys,” he said. “I have to make one more phone call. Then what do you say about going to bed and spending some quality time together. There’s not much I’d rather do right now than snuggle under the covers with the two of you.”

  The two cats seemed to agree with Jed’s suggestion, or at least that’s what he inferred from their purrs.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “It’s all set,” Jed told Ellie the next morning at school. “Laura said she’d be glad to talk with us this evening. She invited us to come by around seven, if that’s okay with you.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Great. Then we can start to follow up on the others. Of course, I’ll talk with Old Sneaky later.”

  “Good. Well, lots of luck with that, and with what goes on next door.”

  “Oh, I think that’s pretty well resolved. But just in case I’ll ask Staunton about stopping in and reinforcing what I said to his class about how things have changed. See you at noon.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Jed stopped in at Staunton’s room before the bell rang. “Good morning, Mr. Staunton,” he said as he knocked on the door and entered.

  “And a good morning to you too.”

  “How do you feel things are going with the class?”

  “Yesterday, as I’m sure you noticed, there was far less noise and commotion, and I squelched that pretty quickly—not by ranting and raving as I’d done previously, but with a little—what can I say—a little bit of understanding and a big change in my attitude. It’s amazing. I don’t seem to be doing all that much, but everything has changed for the better.”

  “That’s wonderful. I stopped by to ask if you’d like me to talk to the class again this morning. But it doesn’t seem I need to do that.”

  “Well, so far things seem to be working out. But if they start getting out of hand again—which I sincerely hope they do not—I’ll knock on your door.

  “Fair enough. And best of luck. I’m sure everything will be fine.”

  “Thanks. You’ve helped more than you can possibly know.”

  Jed nodded and headed toward his room.

  “Good morning, girls and boys,” he said after the bell rang. “Bet you can all hardly wait to dig into all those new math problems and then learn everything there is to know about the world.”

  “Mr. Fredericks.”

  “What is it, Dotty?”

  “We can’t possibly learn everything about the world. Nobody can do that.”

  “You mean not even your teacher?”

  “No, Mr. Fredericks.”

  “I’m so disappointed. I was so looking forward to learning everything there is to know, along with imparting all the important knowledge to my excellent students.”

  “I’m afraid you’re prevaricating, Mr. Fredericks.”

  “Prevaricating. That’s an awfully long word for you to know.”

  “That’s what my grandma always told me when I exaggerated anything.”

  “Okay, I admit, I may have been exaggerating, but just a little.”

  “Mr. Fredericks.” Dotty’s tone was one of mock disbelief.

  “Okay, okay, sometimes I exaggerate a lot.”

  “You prevaricate.”

  “Not exactly. It’s more like stretching the truth…but just a little bit.” He abruptly changed the subject. “Now, who hasn’t brought in today’s math assignment.”

  Tim raised his hand. “You don’t really expect anyone to admit that, do you?”

  “No!”

  “Then why did you say it?”

  “To see what sort of reaction it would receive.”

  “Oh, brother!” It was the glue eater.

  “What is it, Teri?”

  She laughed. “Nothing, Mr. Fredericks. Nothing at all.”

  “Well then, please pass your papers to the front. I promise not to look for missing names until I’m home eagerly looking forward to going over all these wonderful papers.”

  And so the morning passed.

  For some reason Jed felt hungrier than usual. He wasn’t sure why but hoped the lunch fare today was at least edible…and unlike the days of old, catsup was no longer considered a vegetable. Else, he thought, he’d glug down an entire bottle.

  Unfortunately, the meal did involve a lot of catsup…or mustard. No relish, nor pickles. Only the bare essentials for the boiled hotdogs. Boiled hotdogs with stale buns. Ah, yes, it was wonderful the way his appetite disappeared without his even taking a bite. He vowed that if he ever needed to go on a diet to lose weight, he’d seek out every open school cafeteria he could.

  “Are you unpatriotic or what!”

  “What are you talking about, Ellie?”

  “There must be something wrong with a person who refuses to eat hotdogs.”

  “Hotdogs, Crackerjacks, baseball! There must be something wrong with me. But, Mrs. Steiner, I notice your plate also is far from empty.”

  “Oh, I admit it. There is something wrong with me that I dislike hotdogs. Oh, I can tolerate one or two at a Fourth of July picnic…but boiled within an inch of their lives? ‘Uh, uh, uhhh,’ as the old commercial used to say.” She used her fork to dig into a mound of mashed potatoes. “At least the potatoes aren’t all that bad.” She took a bite. “So, I didn’t hear any noise from Staunton’s room this morning.”

  “Nary a disruption.”

  “You must have created some sort of magic spell.”

  “Maybe I did…without being aware. But I’m amazed that things have changed so quickly,” Jed answered.

  “I’ll bet the biggest change is in Staunton’s methods of teaching.”

  “Can’t argue that.”

  “I’m glad for his sake, as well as for everyone who had to put up with the noise,” Ellie said. She paused for a moment. “So you’re going to try to talk with Old Sneaky after school?”

  “Yep. Then later this afternoon, how about if I pick you up on the way to Laura Johnstone’s place? And I’ll tell you all about it?”

  “Sounds good.”

  As soon as the final bell rang, Jed hurried upstairs to the principal’s office. The door stood open, and Miller sat behind his desk. “May I come in?”

  He motioned Jed to a chair in front of his desk. “So, how did it go with Mr. Staunton?”

  “Well, I think.”

  “It certainly seems that way…at least judging by the lack of noise from his room.”

  “It’s been a long time since Staunton was in college. Maybe some things have changed; maybe what he learned in education classes has rusted a little with time. But I think he’s on the right track. In fact, I think he’s going to be a great teacher.”

  “Largely, thanks to you.”

  “I’m not so sure about that. Yes, I think I helped but not enormously.”

  “False modesty from a well-known and well-respected investigative reporter such as yourself.”

  Jed laughed. “Ex-reporter!”

  “I’ll concede.” He leaned forward. “What did you want to see me about?”

  “I was wondering if you’ve thought of anything else that might help in finding Joe Johnstone’s murder.”

  “Unfortunately, I haven’t. I did discover that Gary Bochart was not
ill the morning of Joe’s murder. And that, in fact, he was in Dover. But I don’t know why, and I don’t understand why he pretended to be ill.”

  “Sam Branson, my police detective friend, told me the same thing. But I don’t know the details, nor the reason Gary lied about where he was.”

  “Well, good luck in finding whoever it is that murdered poor Mr. Johnstone.”

  “Please, if you think of anything…anything at all…that might shed some light on the investigation, let me know.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  Jed stood. “My cats are calling me. It’s their dinnertime.”

  “You have cats?”

  “Two. A Siamese and a flame-point Siamese. And I’d never part with either of them.”

  “I always had a cat when I was growing up. Don’t know why I don’t get another one.” He stood. “Well, thanks again, on helping out with Mr. Staunton.”

  “Of course.”

  Well, Jed thought as he hurried down the steps and out to the parking lot, talking to the principal didn’t help. Maybe Laura Johnstone would come up with some sort of clue.

  ***

  By the time Jed arrived home he was starved. Ellie may have thought the potatoes were okay…but not in his book. No dried potatoes that came out of a cardboard box would ever be appetizing to Jed. He’d eaten far too many when he was away at college and couldn’t afford to go to the cafeteria. In fact, he’d be happy to live his entire life sans dried potato flakes.

  Because he was hungry, he didn’t want to wait to fix dinner and didn’t feel like preparing anything elaborate. He fixed himself a bowl of granola with milk. And a second bowl. And a peanut butter and banana sandwich. From being famished, he’d gone to feeling something like a stuffed turkey would feel…that is, if it could feel.

  Of course, he waited to stuff himself until after Sugar and Spice had both dry and canned food in their dishes. And then he gathered them both up and decided to see what was on national news. The usual; wars, famine, tragedy. He was glad at least that the New York Times had started a weekly good news section.

  He glanced at the time on his cell phone. Almost 6:45. If he wanted to arrive on time to Laura Johnstone’s house, he’d better be leaving, especially since he had promised to pick up Ellie along the way.

  They arrived at Laura’s condo just a couple of minutes before seven. In college Jed had known a woman who grew up in Germany. She said when she went with her mother to visit anyone, her mother insisted they not knock on the door until exactly the stated time of arrival. If they were ten minutes early, they waited around the corner. If they were two minutes early, they stood on the porch while the mother kept glancing at her watch. Only when it was exactly when they were to arrive would she knock on the door.