Schooled In Lies

by Angela Henry

  “Meet your new little friend.” She turned me around and I was almost cold nose to cold nose with a black and white cat. It was Ms. Flack’s missing cat, Tamsin. The cat had been stuffed as well. Its mouth was pulled back over its sharp little teeth in a permanent hiss. But unlike me, the cat could still yowl which it did loudly in my ear.

  I woke up with a start and found myself lying on the floor between my couch and the trunk that served as my coffee table. The sound of my alarm clock buzzed loudly from my bedroom. It wasn’t until I’d showered and was on my way to work that I realized the significance of dreaming about the pets of two dead women.

  It was the one thing that Clair Easton and Ivy Flack had had in common. Both women had been very fond of their pets. Now both Clair Easton and her dog were dead, and Ms. Flack was dead and her cat was missing. It finally hit me that the cat hadn’t run away. Ms. Flack’s killer must have killed her cat as well. The cat must have attacked the killer and been killed because of it. But the killer couldn’t leave a dead cat behind because then everyone would know that Ms. Flack’s death hadn’t been an accidental electrocution.

  But what I couldn’t figure out was why in the world was poor Jeeves killed? He died almost a week before his master. The only reason for Jeeves dying first that I could possibly think of would be that whoever killed Clair Easton must have planned her death at least a week in advance and didn’t want her dog attacking them or barking and alerting Clair, or her neighbors, to their presence in her house or on her property. Maybe the killer learned their lesson after being attacked by Ms. Flack’s cat and didn’t want to take any chances the second time around.

  Of course I could be completely wrong about all of this, which was probably the case. I knew why Ms. Flack had most likely been killed. But since Gerald hadn’t really stolen her money, why would someone kill Clair Easton? Plus, hadn’t Emma Kirby claimed that Jeeves had gotten into some rat poison in Clair Easton’s garden shed. Not that it wouldn’t be easy enough for someone to feed a dog something that had been poisoned. I guess the bigger question was why I cared so much. I really didn’t need this added stress. Carl was coming over after work that night and I needed to decide what I was going to tell him. That’s what I needed to be worrying about. Not two dead women and their dead pets. I decided then and there that I was going to put it completely out of my mind. After all, it had nothing to do with me. Ah, if it were only that simple.

  Fridays are half days at the literacy center. Fridays are also pretty sparsely attended. Today’s attendance was worse than usual. It was just me, my coworker and fellow teacher, Rhonda Hammond, and exactly two students. I blamed it on the weather. It was gorgeous outside and for once not too hot. I wanted to be someplace else as well. The county fair had just started and thoughts of funnel cake, cotton candy, and corn dogs on a stick filled my brain. I wanted to leave. Instead, Rhonda and I graded papers and watched the clock. We didn’t even talk much. Rhonda wasn’t in the best of moods.

  “Are you trying to grade that quiz or kill it?” I asked, after watching her stab at the paper with a red marker. Rhonda gave me an annoyed look.

  “Why are men so damned stupid?” she asked loudly to no one in particular. One of our two students, thankfully both of them were female, glanced up at us and laughed and nodded in agreement.

  “What’d he do this time?” I knew she was talking about her husband, Kevin. Lately, he couldn’t do anything right.

  “For the last two nights people have been prank calling our house. We answer the phone and someone will ask us what kind of poopies we have. How many poopies do we have? Or what color are our poopies? Are they big poopies or little poopies? I was about to call the police until I saw this.” She pulled a copy of the Willow News-Gazette out of her desk drawer and tossed it at me. I picked it up and looked. The paper had been turned to the classified section and was folded in half. I couldn’t tell what I was supposed to be looking at.

  “Okay. Help me out here.”

  “It’s right here.” She pointed to an ad in the center of the page.

  I read it and almost wet myself. It said: Beautiful Mixed Breed Poopies. Free to a good home. Poopies are eight weeks old and have had shots. I could tell she was highly pissed. I laughed anyway.

  “It’s not funny! Kevin put that ad in the paper. I asked him to make sure to have the person at the paper read it back to him to make sure it was correct. He swore he did. He couldn’t have or we wouldn’t have idiots calling our house asking about our poopies. We got into the biggest argument last night.”

  I laughed even harder.

  “Whatever. I’m glad you find my misery so funny. I need a damned cigarette.” She rubbed the fingertips of her right hand together. Something she always did when she was craving nicotine. She pulled her cigarette case and lighter from her purse and stalked out of the room.

  I started reading the rest of the newspaper. One story in particular caught my eye: “Murder Witness Breaks 30 year Silence.”

  The story was about an 82-year-old Urbana woman named Sybil Myers. Thirty years ago, Sybil Myers had been out late walking her dog and witnessed Maurice Groves’s brutal murder at the hands of the Righteous Whites. The article went on to say that despite what she had seen, she’d never spoken about that night to anyone besides the police. There were more details about what Ms. Myers had witnessed, but I’d stopped reading. Not because I couldn’t stomach the gory details, but because I’d finally figured out why Clair Easton and Jeeves may have been killed.

  Sybil Myers had been out late one night walking her dog and had seen something she wasn’t supposed to see. According to Dennis, Clair Easton also had a habit of walking Jeeves at all hours. What if when she was out walking him and saw something? Something that got her killed. I remembered my visit to her house. She’d never mentioned anything about her dog having been poisoned by someone. She was a paranoid woman, but she never mentioned seeing anybody or anything that was a threat to her life. She’d only been interested in getting her money back. Could she have seen something that she didn’t even realize she’d seen? Was there something weird going on in her neighborhood late at night? If so, how was Ivy Flack involved? But, again, it wasn’t my problem. I needed to be thinking about what I was going to tell Carl that night.

  Later that evening, Carl and I sat across the kitchen table from each other eating the Chinese takeout he’d brought over. He was still wearing the suit he’d worn to work and was quiet and subdued. So far he hadn’t even mentioned his marriage proposal, which should have made me happy but didn’t. I was in the middle of telling him all about how I almost clobbered Mrs. Carson’s son, Stevie, with a baseball bat. I was trying to get him to laugh and not having much success, when he made a startling announcement.

  “I’m moving to Atlanta.”

  “Huh?”

  “I applied for a job with a law firm in Atlanta a year ago, right after Vanessa left me, before I even met you. I obviously didn’t get the job but they were impressed enough with me that when the person they hired quit, they gave me a call this morning and offered me the job.”

  “And you took it?”

  “Yes.” He wiped sweet and sour sauce from his mouth. I felt like I’d been kicked in the stomach.

  “I thought you liked your job?”

  “I do. But I need a change. This law firm takes on a lot of high profile criminal cases. I’d still be involved in criminal law, only from the other side. And the money is almost three times what I’m making at the prosecutor’s office. How could I turn it down?” I sat staring at him, my eyes rapidly filling with tears.

  “I know you’ll miss your grandmother, but she can come visit us anytime she wants. She can even have her own room,” he said when I didn’t say anything.

  “What are you talking about?” I wiped my eyes with my napkin. He looked as confused as I did.

  “You know, after we get married.” He was staring at me and all I could do was look down at my half-empty takeout container.r />
  “Sorry. I need to do this the right way, don’t I?” He pulled a small black ring box out of his suit pocket and laid it on the table between us.

  I reluctantly picked it up and opened it. Inside was a half carat marquis cut diamond engagement ring. Carl reached over and took the ring from the box and got out of his chair, bending down on one knee. He took my left hand and slid the ring onto my ring finger.

  “Kendra Clayton, will you marry me?”

  I felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. I was lightheaded. He continued to stare at me expectantly, hope shining in his eyes. I didn’t know what to say. I did love Carl and the thought of him moving to Atlanta, and away from me, made me sad. But I didn’t know if I was ready to get married, either.

  “I just need a little more time, Carl.”

  Carl’s face fell and he slowly got to his feet and started walking to the door. I hurried after him.

  “I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad. I love you. But I just need more time to think.”

  “I’m not mad,” he snapped, then, hearing how his words came out he grabbed my hand and squeezed it hard. “I just thought we were on the same page. I thought you wanted this, too.”

  “It’s just all happening so fast. Getting married is a huge step and now moving away to a big city where I won’t know anybody but you.”

  “Damn! I’m getting really tired of this small-town mentality of yours. I guess it was asking too much for you to be happy and excited. This could be a whole new beginning for us, a new life. Why are you so hell-bent on staying in this town? It’s dead. Nothing’s going on here. You don’t even have a fulltime job. Don’t you want more than this?”

  “My small town mentality?” I snatched my hand out of his and took a step back. “Do you hear yourself? You sound just like your uppity mother,” I said, referring to the fact that Carl’s mother, Martha Brumfield, didn’t think too highly of me because I worked two part-time jobs, one of them as a lowly restaurant hostess, thus giving me yet another reason not to want to rush down the aisle with her son.

  “Leave my mother out of this!”

  “Okay, let me get this straight. So, because I’m not jumping for joy because you’re leaving and didn’t so much as ask me, the woman you claim to love and want to marry, how I feel about you taking a job out of state, I’m un-ambitious? I’m supposed to just blindly follow you wherever you go without question and be damned happy for the invitation? I can’t believe you. Here—” I pulled the ring off my finger and shoved it into his hand. “I hope you’re very happy in Atlanta.” I shoved him out the door and slammed it behind him. I could hear him cursing and pacing angrily in front of my door for a few minutes before giving the door a savage kick and leaving. It appeared my decision had been made for me.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  THREE HOURS LATER, I was sitting in my car parked two doors down from Clair Easton’s house. There’s nothing like drowning your sorrows by immersing yourself in matters that don’t really concern you. I chalked it up to my small-town mentality. There was still yellow crime scene tape across Clair Easton’s front door. It was after midnight and the neighborhood was dark and deserted. Most of the houses that I could see had no lights on, indicating that the residents were either asleep or not at home. I got out of my car and looked around briefly before heading up Clair Easton’s driveway. I knew I wouldn’t be able to get into her house, but her house wasn’t really what I’d come to see. It was her garden shed I was interested in. Emma Kirby said that Jeeves had died as a result of getting into some rat poison kept in Clair’s garden shed.

  I headed to the end of the driveway, stopping in front of a large detached garage. To my left there was a high ivy covered wooden gate leading to the backyard. I tried to push it open, but it was latched from the other side. There was no other entrance to the backyard. I tried to wedge some sticks I found on the ground through the gate to pull up the latch. The first one I tried was too thin and snapped and the next one was too fat to fit through the gap. I looked around and saw a trellis on the side of the garage next to the fence.

  I hurried over and started to climb. Once I was level with the top of the fence, I swung my right leg over the top. I got my balance by bracing myself against the fence and the side of the garage. I made sure to put most of the pressure on my non-sprained wrist before swinging my other leg over and jumping down into the backyard. I landed on my ass on top of a pile of compost. I quickly jumped up and brushed grass clippings and fruit peelings off of my pants. I pulled the small flashlight I’d brought with me out of my pocket to make sure it wasn’t broken. It wasn’t and I switched it on.

  The backyard was huge. The grass was a little long but, from what I could see in the dark, it was lush and green. There was a large gazebo with peeling white paint and a peeked roof in the center of the backyard. I shone the flashlight inside but except for mouse droppings, and a broken stone birdbath covered in bird crap lying against one wall, it was empty. The shed was at the back of the yard and was a big gray metal box with a flat roof. There was a large rusty padlock looped through the handles. I doubted very seriously that Jeeves could work a padlock. If he’d gotten into something in the shed, how did he get in there? I jerked hard on the lock, and to my surprise, it opened. I slid open the shed door and winced as a loud metal scraping sound penetrated the darkness.

  I hesitated a few seconds before stepping inside. The smell of gas, rust, and manure smacked me in the face. Once inside, I could see there were shelves lining the back of the shed. On the shelves were various sizes and shapes of ceramic pots for plants, an ancient grime covered gasoline can, a large half empty sack of manure enriched lawn fertilizer, a rusted out lawn chair, and a shovel. There was a spray bottle of insecticide, but no rat poison. There was no way Jeeves could have even gotten into the shed let alone gotten into poison. Someone must have given him something poisoned.

  I started to leave and head back towards the gate when I heard voices. I crouched down against one side of the open shed door and switched off my flashlight. The voices were getting closer and were coming from the other side of the fence behind the shed. I saw a section of the fence swing outward as another gate, completely hidden by the thick ivy, opened. I remained still as a statue as two figures walked into the backyard right past the shed and me. It wasn’t until they’d gotten to the gazebo and walked through a narrow shaft of moonlight that I was able to make out who it was. It was Gerald Tate and Dennis’s mother, Emma Kirby. Oh, boy. They went inside the gazebo and I crept closer. I could see them embracing through the gazebo’s open latticework. They were pressed together so tightly they looked like one shadowy, pulsating entity. Soon the sound of heavy breathing and moaning joined the sound of crickets.

  To get a better look, I shone my flashlight inside and saw that Gerald had Emma Kirby pressed against the wall. His pants were down and her legs were wrapped around his waist. I knew Gerald was a dog but damn! I could not believe he was doing Dennis’s mama. They were getting louder and louder. I watched as she unwrapped her legs from his middle and he spun her around and bent her over taking her from behind. He was banging her so hard I thought her head might go right through the wall. They were so into it, they didn’t notice the light from my flashlight. Hell, I could have done the electric slide dressed as Smoky the Bear right in front of them and they wouldn’t have noticed. I turned the flashlight off.

  I wondered how long the two of them had been fooling around in Clair Easton’s gazebo? Is this what she’d seen that had gotten her killed? Was Jeeves poisoned in order to keep him from barking and alerting Clair to the presence of illicit fornicators in her backyard? But had she seen them anyway and threatened to tell Emma Kirby’s husband? How would Ellis Kirby handle knowing his wife was getting busy with their son’s black friend in a neighbor’s gazebo? Probably not well considering he’d had a conniption over Jeeves digging up his azaleas. I’m thinking having his wife diddled behind his back might send him over the edge. />
  This new development also put Gerald back into the mix. Maybe Cherisse hadn’t told her buddy Ms. Flack about Gerald stealing from Clair Easton. Maybe, she found out he was screwing Emma Kirby and was hurt and told Ms. Flack who in turn blackmailed him and was killed for it. If that was the case, then Cherisse could have also lied to me about the conversation I’d overheard between her and Gerald about Sunny Abou being deported. I was so lost in thought I didn’t realize the noises in the gazebo had stopped. I peeked inside again and saw Emma and Gerald hurriedly fixing their clothes. They kissed passionately and then headed for the door of the gazebo. I crouched down out of sight and watched as they walked across the backyard and disappeared through the hidden gate. As I passed by the entrance to the gazebo, something in the grass glittered in the moonlight and caught my eye. I bent down to pick it up. It was a platinum bracelet with large pearls dangling from it. I recognized it as the bracelet Emma Kirby was wearing when Dennis had given me a ride home. I thought it only fair that I return it to her.

  I arrived at the Kirby home the next morning and sat in my car in front of the house until I saw Ellis Kirby leave in his shiny silver Jaguar, followed about ten minutes later by Dennis in his work clothes. Wanting some time alone with the lady of the house, before the men folk came back, I hurried up the steep driveway and had to catch my breath before ringing the doorbell. The front double doors were high, narrow, arched and made entirely of glass. The center of the doors was decorated in frosted, white geometric designs that kept visitors, both invited and unwanted, from being able to look directly into the house. I had to ring the doorbell a second time before a young and very pretty redhead wearing khaki pants, tennis shoes, and a gold polo style shirt with the words Willow Memorial Hospital stitched over the right breast.