Schooled In Lies

by Angela Henry

  “Is blondie your friend?”

  “More like an acquaintance and she’s not your type, Joy. She’s married with kids,” I said, laughing.

  “You’re right, she ain’t my type. A little too much meat on her bones and I never was into blondes. But just ‘cause she ain’t my type don’t mean I ain’t her type. She’s definitely into chocolate.” She grinned.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I seen blondie and her girlfriend at a club I bartend part-time over in Dayton ‘bout a month ago. They was all over each other.”

  “You mean the woman she was just in here with?”

  “Yeah. I thought they was gonna have to call the fire department to pry blondie’s tongue outta ole’ girl’s mouth.” Joy started laughing.

  “You must have made a mistake. It had to have been some other woman you saw,” I told her, shaking my head in disbelief. Joy was not anyone whose word I’d take on faith alone. I still remembered back to a few months ago when she had me running around the neighboring city of Springfield like a fool looking for my best friend Lynette who’d gone AWOL days before her wedding.

  “Naw, it was her all right. She was tossin’ back virgin Margarita’s like they was goin‘ outta style. You say she’s got kids?”

  I nodded.

  “She’s got five kids, right? I know this ‘cause she showed me pictures of them kids. They all got names that start with C. Colleen, Callie, Cassidy, Christopher, and Cory.” Joy said the last name with a grimace because her ex-girlfriend’s name was Cory and she’d backed over Joy with her car a year ago. Talk about a relationship killer. Exactly how does one keep love alive when you’ve seen the underside of your sweetie’s car?

  Having heard the names, I knew she couldn’t have made it up and you could have blown on me and I’d have fallen over. Audrey Grant, former cheerleading queen bee of the Springmont High Class of 1986 and married, stay-at-home mom to five kids, was a lesbian. Now, I’d officially heard everything.

  Later, Rollins walked me to my door. I stared at him shyly, half expecting him to kiss me, because he usually wanted to. Instead, he gave me a tame peck on the cheek.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, suddenly worried that I’d offended him somehow.

  “Let’s just say I finally get it,” he said, chuckling softly. I opened my mouth to speak but he held up a hand to stop me.

  “You love Carl. I get it now. I thought maybe you might develop feelings for me. But I was wrong. I can’t keep being satisfied with the little bits of attention and occasional kisses you toss my way. It’s not fair to either one of us and it’s certainly not fair to Carl. I need to move on. I hope you’ll let me,” he said softly.

  I was startled but couldn’t deny the truth of what he was saying. I nodded in agreement and was surprised to feel my eyes filling with tears.

  “We’re still friends, right?” I asked in a small voice, unable to look at him.

  “Always.” He gave my hand a firm squeeze and was gone.

  The emergency meeting of the reunion committee was scheduled for that next evening. But all that next day at work, I couldn’t help but wonder who Ms. Flack knew that was getting out of prison soon and why she was so upset about it. Who was this Vermillion person? Was it a man or a woman? My supreme nosiness was prodding me to find out. So, when I got off from work, I headed over to the records office at Kingford College to talk to someone who might be able to help me.

  Myra Gaines had a line of about six students in front of her age scarred wooden counter. Myra was my uncle Alex’s girlfriend Gwen Robins’s best friend and had been the registrar at Kingford College for twenty plus years. And lucky for me, Myra also had a boyfriend named Bone who called the London Correctional Institution home. It was a long shot, since Ohio had a dozen prisons, but I was hoping Myra could ask him if he might know a fellow inmate by the last name of Vermillion who was getting out soon. I waved to her as I got in the end of the line. By the time I reached the counter, we were alone in the office. At the mention of Bone’s name, Myra called a student worker from the filing room to cover for her, and we went outside to sit on a nearby bench on the college green to talk. The August sun was scorching hot that day and I was grateful we were able to find a place in the shade to sit.

  “Sorry, Kendra,” she said, pushing her glasses up on her nose and looking around. “I don’t want anybody I work with knowing my man is incarcerated. You know how it is with folks around here. These academic types can be so damned uppity like ain’t none of them ever made a mistake.” She lit up a cigarette, took a long drag, and blew the smoke away from me.

  I’d never been real clear on just why Bone was in prison, since he was already an inmate when Myra met him on the prison’s pen pal website. But Gwen had told me was serving a twenty year sentence. So it must have been one hell of a mistake. I filled her in on what I wanted to know but left out Ms. Flack’s name instead telling her it was something to do with a student of mine.

  “No problem. I’ll be talking to him tonight.” Her face lit up like a Christmas tree. “I’ll ask him and then give you a call, okay?”

  I thanked her then we chatted a bit. “And how’s that fine lawyer of yours?” she asked, after stubbing out her cigarette and tossing it in the trash basket next to the bench. “What’s his name again, Clark?”

  “It’s Carl and he’s fine.” I tried hard to keep the sarcasm out of my voice and wished I were telling the truth. Myra was lucky in one respect. At least she knew where Bone was every night.

  To my surprise I was the last one to arrive at the high school for the meeting that night. Even Detective Trish Harmon, looking as serene as a coma patient, and her chubby partner, Charles Mercer, looking well fed and cheerful as usual, were there standing off to one side of the room watching everyone. My fellow committee members were already sitting at the round table. No one spoke. Ms. Flack was looking down at her lap. Dennis sat stony faced with his arms crossed. Gerald was leaning back in his seat with one leg crossed over the other drumming his fingers impatiently on the table. Audrey looked tired and sad and sat slouched in her chair staring into space. The only one who looked like she didn’t have a care in the world was Cherisse. She gave me a smile as I sat down next to her.

  “Is this everyone?” Harmon asked Ms. Flack. She nodded silently and Harmon and Mercer joined us at the table.

  “It is our understanding that the members of this committee have been experiencing some strange incidents. I’ve already talked to Ms. Clayton and Ms. Flack; we need to hear everyone else’s stories,” said Charles Mercer, while his partner observed everyone. I could tell Harmon still thought the whole thing was just a big joke. No one spoke up.

  “We don’t have to do this in front of everyone. We can speak to each of you privately,” Mercer said when he saw that he might not get any takers.

  “I’ll go first if no one else will,” Cherisse finally said, standing up. Harmon and Mercer led her to a table on the other side of the cafeteria.

  “This is the biggest waste of time. Why would anyone be after me? I haven’t lived in Willow since graduation. I’ve only been back here for six months.” Dennis glared at me.

  “And I was supposed to be with my kids tonight.” Gerald looked at me like I was dirt.

  “And I’ve got a splitting headache and should be in bed, not sitting here because of someone’s overactive imagination,” whined Audrey, rubbing her temples. She looked over at me and shook her head.

  Ms. Flack got up from the table and walked away like the meeting hadn’t been her idea. I was on my own and for a split second I felt like I was back in high school. But high school was a long time ago and I wasn’t the same scared little teenager anymore. Funny how time leveled the playing field.

  “And you know what?” I said through gritted teeth. “I’d rather be shoveling shit than sitting here listening to you assholes bitch and moan. You can give me all the dirty looks you want, but something weird is going on and the police need to know about it s
o they can investigate before one of your sorry asses turns up dead.” It was my turn to glare and I stared each one of them down. I could tell they weren’t expecting this kind of outburst from me and I enjoyed their discomfort.

  Feeling a little too powerful for my own good, I continued on. “As for what you’ve done to make anyone target any of you, all you have to do is think back to high school and all the kids whose lives you made miserable with all your teasing, tormenting, and bullying. That’s motive enough right there.” As soon as it was out of my mouth I regretted it because all of their attention turned to the opposite side of the room, where Cherisse was giving her statement to Harmon and Mercer. Suspicion etched itself across each of their faces. I could see the wheels turning and knew they thought Cherisse must be the culprit.

  “You may as well look at me, too,” I added quickly. “If you’ll recall, I’m the reason you all passed Mr. Fields’s science final. You guys were pretty persuasive in getting me to change my mind about getting that test for you, remember?”

  Audrey at least had the nerve to look ashamed, but remorse wasn’t something Dennis was familiar with.

  “High school was a long time ago. Man, you really need to get rid of that chip on your shoulder. Just get over it. Hey, Teddy loved you. Wasn’t that enough?” he said, laughing loudly. I could see Gerald’s lips twitch in an effort to keep from laughing. But surprisingly Audrey wasn’t laughing.

  “If anyone needs to let it go, it’s you, Dennis. You’re the same loudmouthed, mullet-wearing clown you were back in high school. Still living in Julian’s shadow. But you’ll never fill his shoes, will you? Even your own parents preferred him over you, their own son,” Audrey said, shocking the hell out of me.

  Dennis puffed up angrily and his mouth opened and closed rapidly in an unintentional impersonation of a large mouthed bass. He started to stand up, but Gerald put his hand on his arm and gave him a warning look urging him to sit down and shut up, which he did with great reluctance. Instead, he sat there breathing heavily and giving Audrey murderous looks.

  No one else said a word and when Cherisse returned to her seat, Dennis jumped up and went over to give his statement.

  “Kendra, do you really think someone is after us because of stuff we did in high school?” Audrey asked in a small voice.

  “I don’t know. It was just a suggestion.” The anger I’d felt towards my former high school tormentor had suddenly evaporated. It felt good to have unloaded all the stuff that I’d had been pent up inside me for eleven years.

  “Maybe we’re all looking at this the wrong way,” said Ms. Flack, who’d been sitting a couple tables away from us silently watching the drama. She got up and came back over to the round table. “Maybe whoever is doing this isn’t targeting the class as a whole. Think about it. Kendra and Cherisse weren’t a part of any popular clique in high school and I was a staff member.”

  It was a plausible theory. But I didn’t know if I bought it. What about the vengence1986 e-mail address? I wanted to say something but knew Gerald would immediately know that I’d snooped through his e-mail.

  “So what are you saying?” asked Cherisse.

  “I’m saying maybe we’re being targeted for something we each may have done individually. Can anyone think of anything they’ve done that someone might want revenge for?” Ms. Flack said.

  The only person I could think of who’d want revenge against me was Stephanie Preston, the woman I was set to testify against at her upcoming murder trial. Though she was a very sick woman, I supposed she could have had someone else do her dirty work. But that still didn’t explain everyone else’s accidents.

  “I accidentally killed a dog a few weeks ago. He just ran right out in front of my car before I could stop. His owner was pretty upset. I felt horrible,” said Audrey.

  “I might have a few pissed off clients whose investments lost money, not to mention three disgruntled ex-wives.” Gerald laughed. I had a feeling whatever his clients had lost ended up in Gerald’s pocket.

  “It’s no secret that quite a few people hold me responsible for Julian’s death.” Cherisse looked around the table defiantly.

  “What about you, Ms. Flack?” I asked. She opened her mouth to speak but Dennis returned to the table.

  “You’re up next, Prozac Queen,” he said to Audrey, who got up from the table and stalked back to where Harmon and Mercer were waiting.

  Gerald filled Dennis in on Ms. Flack’s theory, which made Dennis laugh though there wasn’t a trace of amusement in it.

  “Man. What have I done recently that someone would want revenge for? That’s an easy one. I’m still alive while my so-much-better-than-me cousin, Julian, is dead.” He laughed a harsh angry laugh.

  But no one disagreed with him.

  Chapter Nine

  THE MEETING ENDED TWENTY minutes later. I was relieved that the police now knew about what had been going on. But I had no faith that they’d make looking into the matter a priority.

  “Is that it?” I asked, hurrying to catch up with Harmon and Mercer in the parking lot. Harmon gave me an annoyed look, while Mercer looked like it was past his dinner time and he wasn’t happy about it.

  “We’ve taken statements from everyone and we’ll be looking into the matter. What more do you want us to do?” said Harmon.

  “At least tell me if I should be worried. Someone is definitely targeting us, right?” I persisted.

  “So it would seem,” Harmon said, opening the car door.

  “And please call us if you get any more messages or anything else strange happens,” Mercer added. They got in their unmarked Crown Victoria and took off, leaving me feeling anything but reassured.

  Instead of going home, I headed over to the Kingford College library to talk to the custodian on duty. I was hoping it would be the same one who was working the night the stone planter fell, or more likely was pushed, off the roof and almost killed me. After inquiring at the information desk, I was directed to the basement of the library where they kept the archives and books that no longer circulated. The hallway in the basement was narrow and dimly lit and lined with shelves filled with box after box of old books. It smelled a little dank and moldy and I suppressed a sneeze. I could see a light on in an office at the end of the hall. When I got to the doorway of the office, I saw a man who must be the custodian seated behind a gray metal desk playing a game of solitaire on the computer. A large cork message board covered in pushpins and Post-it notes was attached to the wall behind the computer, while the top of the desk was covered in dark rusted rings that must have been left behind by the cracked green Kingford College coffee mug sitting next to the computer’s keyboard. Shelving along the back wall held cleaning supplies. When he saw me standing there watching him, he jumped and then quickly clicked on the mouse making the game disappear.

  “Students ain’t s’posed to be down here,” he said testily. He was a heavyset middle-aged man with graying red, slicked back hair. His brown uniform pants looked a little snug around the waist and the sleeves of his tan work shirt were rolled up exposing muscular forearms covered with thick reddish brown hair. The name sewn onto the front pocket of his shirt read: Harlan.

  “Sorry to bother you, sir, but I was the one who almost got killed when that planter fell from the roof the other night and I was wondering if you found out how it came loose?”

  “I can’t talk to you if you’ve filed a lawsuit against the college. Could lose my job.” He eyed me suspiciously.

  “Oh no,” I assured him. “I was just curious. I’m not planning to sue. I promise.”

  He continued to stare at me like he didn’t quite believe me then took a swig from his coffee mug and cleared his throat. “What is it you need to know?”

  “I just wondered how such a heavy planter could have fallen from the roof? Was it loose?”

  “Those planters are pretty old and fallin’ apart. It wouldn’t take much to knock one over, which is why we don’t let people up there. I must have ch
anged the lock on the door to that roof a dozen times, but they always manage to get up there somehow. My guess would be that some students were up there messin’ around and accidentally knocked that planter off the roof. I’m always findin’ condom wrappers and whatnot up there.” He shook his head in disgust and took another loud slurp of his coffee.

  “Were you working that night? Did you find anything up there after the planter fell from the roof?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I was here all right. They called and interrupted my dinner break to come clean up that mess. Went up to the roof afterwards and all I found was some empty pop cans and these,” he said, opening his desk drawer and pulling out two small white shiny objects and tossing them on his desk. I walked over to take a look.

  I could tell he didn’t know what they were, but I recognized them immediately. They were fake fingernails. The cheap press-on kind you can get at any drugstore. They were pearl white in color and oval shaped. Dirt was caked onto the sticky adhesive on the back of each one. Could the person who pushed that planter off the roof have been a woman and a couple of her fake nails had popped off in the process? Or was the custodian right and it had just been some students fooling around. No telling how long the nails had been up there. I told the custodian what they were and he wrinkled his nose in disgust and swept them off his desk into the wastebasket.

  “I thought they were guitar picks,” he said still frowning. I thanked him and left.

  Five minutes after I got home there was a soft knock at the door. It was Carl. I silently stood aside and he walked in. It felt like I hadn’t seen him in months. I was tired, too tired to fight with him about Vanessa. She wasn’t worth the toll it was taking on our relationship. Carl looked tired, too.

  “Kendra, I’m—” he began before I silenced him with a kiss.