Toni Donovan Mysteries- Books 1-3

by Helen Gray

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Who is it?” Gabe asked.

  “We don’t know. The police will have to investigate and figure that out.” They could see the K-9 officer and his dog, and another deputy with a metal detector, working their way along the creek line.

  When Toni turned onto the road that led to their subdivision, the boys twisted in their seats so they could still view the scene as they moved past it. “Maybe you could help,” Garrett suggested. “You did before.”

  “No, it’s their job. I need to stay out of their way,” Toni told them firmly. “I only helped because the situation caught me up in it.”

  The cell phone in her purse began ringing—if you could call the Batman theme a ring.

  “I’ll get it.” Gabe reached for it. “Hello.” A pause, and then a grin. “Hey, Dad, when will you be home?” Another pause. “Great. Will you pick up Chinese for us? Okay, thanks.” He replaced the phone in Toni’s purse. “Dad says he’ll be in about six. And he’s bringing Chinese for supper.”

  Toni glanced over at her take-charge eldest child. “I heard whose idea that was. Did you consider that I might have other plans?”

  “Nope,” he returned instantly. “It’s Friday, and you’re tired from your field day and your kids finding bones.”

  He was right, as usual. And she couldn’t complain too much about his decision-making. It hadn’t been all that long since he had made some phone calls on his own initiative that had been to her benefit, calling his dad and the police when she had confronted a killer and come closer to dying than she cared to remember.

  Chapter 3

  Toni’s husband, Kyle, was a pilot for Heartland Air Transport, work he loved but that required him to be away from his home and family more than either of them liked. He was often away overnight, but was home most weekends—except when he had to do special runs. They had survived some tough times, but he was still Toni’s hero.

  After her first experience with a murder investigation, they had resolved to find ways to be together more. It was still a struggle, but they were doing better. Kyle was a good provider, and he did his best to balance his family and work hours.

  Toni Donovan lived a very ordinary life. After all, school teachers were painted with a stereotypical image that ran to boring. Toni didn’t consider herself the best teacher in the world, but she took pride in her stellar evaluations and invested a lot of herself into her work.

  She had friends, but they were mostly members of her church and colleagues at school. The school staff was like an extended family, with the bulk of her daytime hours spent with them—so much that she often wrestled with guilt attacks over spending so much time working. She took her boys to school with her in the morning and brought them home with her in the evening. She even had the holiday and summer breaks with them.

  Since most of her days were spent at school, Toni’s evenings revolved around her home and family. She was a fairly good cook, but wasn’t above cheating with fast food or pick-up orders when she was pushed for time or just not feeling up to kitchen duty. Weekends were when they went places and did things together.

  She wasn’t involved in a lot of civic clubs or organizations because she simply didn’t have any extra time beyond her home, school and church involvements. Maybe someday that would change.

  Toni turned onto the subdivision road, drove to the last home on the right, and pulled into the driveway. This was one of the newer subdivisions, and it was still developing. She and Kyle had been one of the first families to purchase a lot when they became available. The ranch style home they had built sat in front of a wooded hillside. There were no houseplants inside it, but a variety of flowers and bushes decorated the yard. Toni loved plants, but preferred them outside in their natural element.

  No pets greeted them, but that could change if the boys ever asked for one. So far they seemed content with their busy lives and had made no such requests. Toni and Kyle had agreed that they would just wait and see if they ever did.

  The weekend was pleasant and uneventful. Kyle arrived home as scheduled, and they spent a comfortable evening at home. Toni related the story of the human bones and her conversation with the chief of police, including mention of Garrett’s dream. Kyle shared her caution about word of that getting around.

  Saturday she chased dust bunnies, cleaned the kitchen, tidied the rest of the house, did the laundry, went to the grocery store, and accepted her mother’s invitation to supper. That night Toni dreamed. Huge black eyes followed her everywhere, and then chased her to the edge of a cliff. She was falling—falling. Rudely awakened by the sensation, she lay there a long time before her heartbeat returned to normal and she was able to go back to sleep. Sunday they went to church, and then watched the St. Louis Cardinals play the Chicago Cubs on television.

  When Toni returned to school Monday morning she felt somewhat relaxed and refreshed. That feeling continued throughout the day. Seventh hour she stood in the hallway by her classroom door and watched her final class of the day file into the room.

  Smack! A paper wad caught Jeremy Barnes in the neck. He halted in the doorway and looked around quickly to see who had thrown the missile.

  “Air mail message,” Dack Murphy called from a few feet up the hall, not bothering to escape detection.

  Jeremy grinned and picked up the paper wad. He smoothed it out and moved on to his desk while reading it. There didn’t seem to be any animosity involved, so Toni ignored their slight immaturity. They were seniors, with only two more weeks of classes left, and they were in high spirits.

  Graduation was scheduled for Friday the eighteenth, so seniors would be taking their finals May tenth and eleventh, a week before graduation. Underclassmen would take theirs during the final week. Once exams were over, the seniors would not return to the school until the morning before graduation for a rehearsal of the ritual.

  As soon as Toni had her attendance report prepared and attached to the little clip outside her door, she began the day’s lesson.

  Bookshelves crammed with bulky textbooks lined the front half of the right wall of the room. The back half of the wall was lined with windows. An emergency eyewash station stood at the front of the left wall. To the center and back of the room was a multicolor plastic DNA spiral and tables where students worked in groups. A centrifuge and a thermal cycler, used in genetic fingerprinting exercises, sat on the counter along the back wall. Test tubes and micropipettes occupied desks. An aquarium inhabited by Snappy Turtle and Lizzy Lizard inhabited a spot in front of the windows.

  “Today’s discussion is about protecting a crime scene,” she informed the class. “Let’s see how well you read the chapter. Who can tell me when the protection of a crime scene begins and ends?”

  Beth Price’s hand shot up and waved for attention.

  “Okay, Beth, what can you tell us?”

  “Protection of the crime scene begins with the arrival of the first police officer at the scene and ends when the scene is released from police custody,” she quoted.

  “That’s right. The first officer should make notes about the condition of the scene as it was upon the officer’s arrival and after the scene has been stabilized, keeping notes on significant response time. Also, notes should be taken if the officer has to alter anything in the course of the investigation. An effort must be made to disturb things as little as possible. Can someone tell me what should be done next?”

  Dack’s hand shot up.

  “Yes, Dack.”

  “The scene and any other areas that might yield evidence should be roped off to keep unauthorized people from entering and contaminating the area,” he recited, as if having memorized the textbook. Then his face brightened. “Like they did Friday at our scavenger hunt. They roped off the whole lower park and the walking trails around it, and the area across the bridge where we found the bones. Do you think that person was killed, Mrs. Donovan?”

  “There’s always that possibility,” she allowed, “but
I don’t want to speculate on that case here in class. Maybe we can discuss it later, after the police have had time to get some test results, do some investigating, and make that information public. Let’s continue with our chapter for now.”

  Toni didn’t want to ignore a real life lesson opportunity for this class, but she also didn’t want to let the students begin premature speculations that could be retold and rehashed outside of class and grow into wild tales the way rumors had a way of doing.

  “What are some things that should not be allowed at a crime scene?” she asked.

  “Don’t discuss the crime with witnesses or bystanders,” one student spoke up. “I think that’s what you just did with this class.”

  Toni grinned.

  “Protect evidence that might be in danger of being destroyed,” another student cited.

  “Eating, drinking, and smoking should not be allowed. They can wreck a crime scene and also be a health hazard,” Jeremy added.

  “One person should never be left alone while processing a crime scene,” came from Q. “The investigators need to be protected.”

  “That’s right,” Dack seconded with fervor. “Jeremy, Q, and I are going to open a detective agency after graduation, and we’ll be looking out for one another. We don’t want anyone putting us in danger while we’re solving our local case of the unidentified skeleton. We’re going to find out who it is, and what happened,” he announced to Toni and the class, the last phrase punctuated with certainty.

  “Solving this case could give us a great start as detectives,” Jeremy said. “Then people would want to hire us.”

  “Okay, everyone turn to page two hundred sixty-one in your textbook, read the three case studies there, and decide how you would handle them,” Toni instructed, bringing the subject back to their lesson. “Then we’ll discuss them.”

  When the bell rang at the end of class, Dack, Q, and Jeremy didn’t hurry out the door as usual, but hung back while the rest of the students left. Then they approached Toni’s desk and waited until she joined them from her post at the door.

  “Something on your minds?” she asked them collectively, taking a seat at her desk and looking from boy to boy.

  “We’re serious about solving the skeleton case,” Dack informed her, hooking his thumbs under the straps of the book bag on his shoulders.

  “I’ve been working on it,” Jeremy blurted, his voice thready and high pitched. His mannerisms were a bit nervous, but there was genuine animation in his eyes and expression. “Over the weekend I did an internet search on any missing person cases I could find. I can’t get anything like the kinds of information the police can without…”

  “Hacking into their files,” Dack finished for him when he paused. “He’s smart enough to do that, but he’s playing by the rules,” he assured Toni.

  She just smiled and listened.

  Jeremy cleared his throat. “Anyhow, I looked for any stories I could find about missing persons in the area, and then I talked to my parents. My dad says the newspaper office has all their previous issues stored on microfiche in Columbia.”

  “We all talked to our parents,” Dack interjected again, unable to keep quiet.

  “I was able to come up with three stories,” Jeremy stated with pride.

  Toni’s ears were beginning to perk up. The boys were making her curious. Jeremy’s dad was a reporter and photographer for their local newspaper, and his mother taught at the elementary school. Jeremy was an A student and had a reputation as a computer whiz, so he was definitely capable of ferreting out information. Or hacking, heaven forbid.

  She focused on Jeremy. “Tell me about them.”

  “The first story I found was about a teenage runaway from another town,” he said, speaking more clearly as he got into his topic and realized he had her attention. “Her name is Sharon Chandler, and she disappeared about a year ago. The story said she had been gone over a week before her parents reported it to the police. I couldn’t find anything that said she’s been found yet, but I don’t think she’s our skeleton.”

  Toni tilted her head slightly. “You don’t?”

  Jeremy shook his head. “No, I think that skull was too big. It was an adult.”

  Toni nodded. “I think you’re right,” she admitted slowly, hoping she wasn’t saying too much.

  “The second story I found was about a man who disappeared. I think that one’s a better possibility,” the boy declared. “I don’t know the man’s wife, and neither do my parents…”

  “Ours don’t know her either,” Dack interrupted.

  “Her name is Mrs. Bonnie Finnegan,” Jeremy continued, cutting Dack off, an unexpected aggressiveness Toni had never seen in him. He and Q usually let Dack run things and do most of their speaking for them.

  Toni supposed Dack inherited his take-charge attitude from his dad. Gerald Murphy owned the local Country Club and ran it with a firm hand. Mrs. Murphy was a local realtor and had her own office.

  “Mr. Finnegan told his wife he was going to get some work done on his car eighteen months ago, and she hasn’t seen him since,” Jeremy continued, his voice becoming higher pitched and breathless with excitement. “I think she might have killed him.”

  “What’s the third story you found?” Toni asked, not prepared to pursue a string of conjectures about the Finnegans.

  “Well, about two and a half years ago there was this preacher who took off with a bunch of the town’s money.”

  Before Jeremy could utter another word, Toni’s mind did a wild leap, and her heart nearly stopped. She remembered the story well—and the preacher’s name.

  “This Reverend Goldman was involved in a whole lot of stuff around town, the food kitchen for the needy, and a bunch of other things,” Jeremy said, confirming the name Toni had remembered with significance beyond any reasonable explanation.

  They found gold by the water, Garrett had said. The skeleton had been found by the water, and there was someone named Goldman who was missing. Toni struggled to keep from letting the boys see her stunned reaction.

  “One of the things this guy did was to serve as chairman of the Fall Festival,” Jeremy continued. “At the end of the festival over two years ago he disappeared with all the money.”

  “We have to be at baseball practice in fifteen minutes,” Q spoke up quietly, his voice deep and gruff, probably from disuse, since he seldom talked about himself—or anything, for that matter. He was a part of the teenage groups and activities, but he was a listener rather than a talker. His lack of talkativeness was probably the reason he was so well liked. He never got into arguments. His expertise came in the area of mechanics and electronics. The other boys liked to boast that Q could fix anything. Which shouldn’t be too surprising, in Toni’s opinion. The boy’s dad was a mechanic, a good one, and had his own garage. His mother was a secretary at City Hall.

  Q headed for the door.

  Jeremy glanced at his watch. “I guess we need to go, but I wanted to tell you what I’ve found so far.”

  “Hey, Mrs. Donovan, we have a home game tomorrow. Can you come?” Dack asked at the doorway, pausing as the other two boys went out into the hall.

  “I think I can do that,” she said, smiling as he waved good-bye.

  As soon as they were gone she went to the phone, dialed the police station, and asked for Buck. The officer who answered the phone informed her that the chief was in St. Louis for a meeting but would be in the next morning. He asked if he could help her.

  Toni declined, saying she needed to talk to Buck personally. The truth was, she didn’t want to discuss the missing preacher’s name with anyone but Buck. She thanked the officer and disconnected.

  *

  Tuesday, May 1

  Toni was nearly late to school Tuesday morning. After seeing Kyle off to work at five a.m., she had gone back to bed and overslept by fifteen minutes. Frustrated by the loss of time, she literally jumped into a pair of black slacks, a white blouse with black trim, and comfortab
le black shoes.

  As she was unlocking her classroom door, John Zachary came from next door and followed her inside. Toni put her purse and satchel on the desk and turned to face him.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, reading trouble in his expression.

  “I just had a very disturbing conversation with Doyle Ross.” One of their three English teachers, Doyle was an intense young man who had only been in the district two years.

  Toni glanced at the lidded coffee mug in John’s hand, wishing she had time to go get one. “I hope it’s not serious.”

  “We were having a donut and coffee in the staff lounge, and he told me that when he was in the school grade book system yesterday checking some grades, he found a couple that weren’t what he had entered at the end of the third quarter.”

  Toni’s breath caught at the implication. “You mean he thinks they’ve been changed?”

  “He says they’re definitely not what he entered. He only found two that are in question, but it raises enough questions in my mind that during fourth hour I’m going to check all my first semester grades. I thought you might want to look at yours.” Fourth hour was his plan period.

  “It won’t take that long to check,” Toni said. “And if there’s hacking going on, we need to know immediately. I’ll try to get mine checked third hour.”

  “We can compare notes over lunch. Did you bring yours?”

  Toni nodded.

  “Good. Why don’t you come to my room and eat with me?”

  “I can do that.”

  The first warning bell rang. “Gotta go,” he said, leaving the room.

  As soon as her second class ended, Toni went to her computer and logged into the network grading program. She had just accessed her first class list when her phone rang. She paused to answer it.

  “I understand you tried to reach me yesterday,” Buck Freeman said. “I was planning to call you today anyhow. I’ll buy you a Coke if you’ll come by the station after school.” He chuckled. “Your dad says you’re bribable, that you’ll do anything for a Coke.”