by Jane Tesh
He looked at his brother. “We don’t belong to a church. We’re having Mother cremated as soon as possible.”
Marshall Lever said, “Not to sound too harsh, but we didn’t get along with Mother that well. When we heard you folks were going to do this tonight, we thought being here was the least we could do.”
Jerry gave me a look. I knew what he was thinking. You have to be desperate or damned uncaring to come hear a few words about your dead mother at an elementary school PTA meeting. Or maybe “relieved” was the word I was looking for. The Lever boys showed no signs of grief.
“It’s too bad your mother forgot she was wearing a nicotine patch,” I said.
The brothers shared another unreadable glance. “Yes,” Kevin said. “It’s not like her to forget anything.”
“Could something have happened to distract her?”
“Not at school,” Marshall said. “She was single-minded about her work.”
“She was single-minded about everything,” Kevin said. “Did she have any friends here? Don’t worry. I’ll be very surprised if you say yes.”
I could tell Rachel was choosing her words carefully. “She was hard to get close to.”
“Did the children like her?”
“They respected her. Ronald Brown, especially.”
Thad Murphy came over, and soon the Levers were surrounded by other parents and teachers. Rachel, Jerry, and I stepped away.
Rachel introduced me to other members of the faculty. Everyone said pretty much the same thing. Amelia Lever was a good teacher, but a difficult person. She wasn’t a joiner, she was very strict with her students, and she should’ve retired years ago.
“Why didn’t she, then?” I asked Rachel.
“Who knows?”
“Maybe she needed the money,” Jerry said.
“And if she was too strict with her students, why wasn’t she let go?”
“Oh, her students always scored very high on the end of grade tests,” Rachel said. “That’s extremely important to the school. I’m sure if her kids had done poorly, Thad wouldn’t have put up with her as long as he did. Could you excuse me? I need to get to my classroom. The parents will be coming in to have a look at their kids’ artwork.”
“We’ll see you later,” I said. “We’re going to walk around. Where’s Mrs. Lever’s classroom?”
“The end of the first hall.”
From the art room, Jerry and I walked the short distance to the cafeteria. No chance of finding any incriminating footprints. The steps down to the cafeteria and the floors were scrubbed and shiny.
“Let’s go out to the loading dock first,” I said. “I may have overlooked something.”
The dock was empty and clean. “No clues here,” Jerry said.
“Let’s check around the trash cans.”
We went down the short flight of metal steps to the driveway. The area around the trash cans was clean. The trash cans were empty.
“I’m glad to know our public schools are this tidy,” Jerry said. “But it plays hell with finding clues.”
There was a narrow strip of grass between the dock and some sort of large generator or air conditioning unit. I bent down and searched through the grass, finding a dime, a marble, an eraser, plastic wrap from a cigarette pack, and a small piece of clear plastic.
I held it up. “Any idea what this is?”
Jerry took it. “Looks like the top part of a pen. I don’t know.” He handed it back to me. “Could be a piece of a kid’s toy.”
“I’ll take all these things, too.”
We went back inside and walked down the fourth grade hall. Teachers stood at their classroom doorways, greeting parents. Mrs. Dorman stood at the door to Mrs. Lever’s classroom.
“Mrs. Dorman, could we come have a look around?” I asked.
She frowned at me. “This is not the time. I’m very busy talking with parents.”
“I don’t need to ask you any questions right now. I’d just like to see Mrs. Lever’s classroom.”
She glared at me and lowered her voice. “Come back tomorrow afternoon when no one is here. There’s no reason to upset the children.”
From what I could see, the children were eagerly showing their parents their schoolwork and projects. “It doesn’t look like anyone’s upset.”
“Of course not! The children haven’t grasped the seriousness of this matter, and their parents are trying to act as if everything is normal. Please go away. You can look all you like tomorrow.”
I certainly didn’t want to make a scene. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
“Well, that’s an ornery old turtle,” Jerry said as we walked back up the hall.
“I can’t fault her for trying to keep things normal.”
“Normal? Try invisible.”
“Excuse me.” A tall man in a blue track suit stopped us. With him was a sturdy-looking dark-haired boy. I recognized the boy as the same student who had asked me about whacking Bernice King with the umbrella. “I couldn’t help but overhear you talking with Mrs. Dorman. I’m Oscar Brown, and this is my son, Ronald. Do you have a child in the class?”
“No,” I said. “I’m Madeline Maclin Fairweather, and this is my husband, Jerry.” I didn’t want to mention the possibility of foul play in front of Ronald. “We’re just visiting the school.”
We all shook hands, and Oscar Brown said, “Well, we’re not all heartless around here. Ronald liked Mrs. Lever, and I appreciated her tough approach to teaching. We were very sorry to hear about her, but, unfortunately, she was a heavy smoker. Ronald and I had talked about that.”
“Yeah,” Ronald said. “She wheezed all the time.”
“Did she ever try to quit?”
“She was trying those patch things.”
“Too little too late,” Oscar Brown said. “I understand she’d had health problems for years.”
“And now we’re going to have that sappy Ms. Olsen,” Ronald said.
His father frowned. “Ronald, I told you not to make any more comments like that about your new teacher.”
“But, Dad, she’s like a big ball of goo.”
I could tell Mr. Brown was trying to keep a straight face. “You still need to respect her. You might learn something from her.”
“Yeah, how to make daisy chains and sing ‘Kumbaya.’”
Oscar Brown looked at us apologetically and shrugged. “It’s going to be an adjustment. Come on, Ron, you wanted me to meet your P.E. teacher. Nice to have met you folks.”
We continued up the hall. “Well, it’s good to know Amelia had at least one fan,” Jerry said.
“And it’s beginning to look more and more like she died from a heart attack.”
“If she had a heart,” said a voice.
We’d reached the last classroom on the hall. A young woman grinned at us. “Sorry. Had to say it.”
“Did you have a problem with Mrs. Lever?”
“Certainly did. A little matter of an art and music grant.”
“The same one Mrs. Sigmon applied for?”
The young woman’s expression hardened. “That was the most blatant piece of sabotage I’ve ever seen. Lever deliberately screwed up the part she was supposed to write until it was too late to make the deadline.”
“And why would she do that?”
“She thought the arts were useless. She never wanted to send her kids to art, or to music, for that matter. She said art and music were just a waste of time.”
A group of parents approached, and the young woman’s expression returned to bright cheerfulness. “Hello! Welcome to the music room!”
“Yup, just one devoted fan,” Jerry said as we walked away.
When we came back to the art room, Rachel was talking to an overweight young woman with long curly brown hair and stiff bangs.
“I can’t tell you how excited I am to finally get this job,” she was saying. “Not that I’m rejoicing over her death, you understand, but things worked out really well for
me.”
“Madeline, this is Norma Olsen,” Rachel said. “She’ll be taking over Amelia’s class.”
I shook Ms. Olsen’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Norma Olsen had a wide beaming smile that probably never dimmed. “Thanks. This will be my first class ever. I’m really excited.”
I wondered if anyone else had been considered for the job. “I’m not sure how it works in a school. Were you next in line?”
“Sort of. I’d been promised the job last summer, and then Amelia came back for another year. I was really furious, and then I thought, well, that’s just another example of how this school system operates. Now I have to take back all the ugly things I said about Thad and the school board.”
“Everyone was expecting Mrs. Lever to retire?”
“She should’ve retired years ago. She wasn’t just burnt out. She was nothing but ashes.”
She is now, I thought. Or soon will be.
“Well, I’ve got tons to do to get ready for tomorrow. See you tomorrow, Rachel!”
When Norma Olsen had gone down the hall, Rachel said, “Did you find out anything?”
“No, but I’m coming back tomorrow after school to talk with Mrs. Dorman.”
“Would I sound completely hard-hearted if I asked you to come a little earlier and continue your talk with my art classes?”
“No, that’s fine.” I didn’t mind an excuse to be at the school.
“Great! See you tomorrow, then.”
Jerry and I had just left the art room when Austin and Denisha rushed up to us.
“Madeline, what do you think? Are you going to solve the mystery? She was murdered, right? Who do you think did it?”
“Hold on,” I said. “We don’t know for sure what happened to Mrs. Lever.”
Denisha clapped her hands. “In our own school! This is so neat. It was lucky you were here.”
Denisha’s aunt, Averall Mercer, and Austin’s mother, Samantha Terrell, came up. Both were shaking their heads.
“Austin, for heaven’s sake, calm down,” Samantha said.
Averall made a “tsking” sound with her tongue. “Denisha Simpson, you control yourself. Stop jumping on Madeline like you haven’t got good sense.”
Austin was still bouncing. “But it’s a murder, Mom, and Madeline’s a detective.”
“It was an accident,” Samantha said.
“Then why is Madeline at PTA?”
“I’m just making sure I have all the information,” I said. “Right now, it does look like an accident.”
“But nobody liked her,” Denisha said. “I was so glad I got Mrs. Forrest instead of her.”
Averall shushed her niece. “That doesn’t mean someone killed her. There are lots of unlikable people walking around. Mrs. Lever shouldn’t have been smoking.” She steered Denisha toward the door. “Time to go home. Tomorrow’s another school day.”
Austin tugged on his mother’s arm. “They oughta close school on account of Mrs. Lever being dead. It could be a national day of mourning.”
“It could be, but it’s not going to be,” she said. “Come on. You’ve got some homework to finish.”
“Awww.”
As Jerry and I went out, we saw Kevin and Marshall Lever standing just outside the front door of the school, still accepting condolences from parents and teachers.
Jerry snapped his fingers. “Now I know where I’ve seen those guys before.”
“Amelia’s sons?”
“Yes, the winners of the Moe Howard look-alike contest. One of them was in the store the other day with a woman who must have been Amelia.”
“What did they buy?”
Jerry tried to look innocent and failed. “Well, I never eavesdrop on my customers’ conversations.”
“I’m sure that never happens.”
“But they were arguing so loudly, everyone in the store heard them. I should say she was arguing. The poor guy was trying to get in a word or two. It had something to do with a wedding. I gathered she wasn’t too happy about his choice of a bride. She said, ‘No one in the Lever family has ever married without permission.’ Then the man said something about wanting ‘Silver Archer Number Six,’ and she told him he was an idiot.”
“Anything else?”
Jerry shook his head. “A lot of times couples argue over the merits of having a comic collection. I try to keep out if it.”
“Did he buy the comic?”
“No, she made him leave without buying anything.”
“So she didn’t approve of his bride to be. A lot of mothers don’t.”
“The Lever brothers look old enough to make their own decisions.”
“They don’t seem very grief-stricken, but they said they weren’t close to their mother. I’m not really close to mine.”
“But would you give her a Deadly Cigarette of Doom?”
“That sounds like something Bufo might do, not me. I’ll visit the Lever brothers tomorrow after I’ve had a word with Mrs. Dorman.”
“And Tori Satterfield. I can’t wait to see Castle Groundhog.”
“She’s very shy,” I said. “She spends her time creating scrapbooks of different ballets.”
“So she’s not really an artist?”
“Not in the ordinary sense. And speaking of art, I’d like to get home and do some work.”
Back in my studio, I got so involved with the field landscape, I couldn’t believe it was almost midnight when Jerry came in to check on my progress.
He stood in front of his portrait, chin in hand. “Well, the picture of me can hardly be improved upon. Have you decided on a third?”
I’d spent the last thirty minutes agonizing between rust and gold on the leaves. “I don’t know. I’d like all three pictures to work together, but there isn’t a common theme.”
“Leave mine out and do a third abstract landscape.”
“I’m not sure there’s time. It’s already Tuesday morning.”
“Come on to bed. You’ll have a better idea in the morning.”
“I hope so,” I said.
He grinned. “Meanwhile, I have some ideas.”
“I’ll just bet you do.”
***
I set my alarm clock for seven and managed to get up when it rang. I started another abstract and worked in my studio until about eight, when Jerry called up the stairs that breakfast was ready. He’d fixed bacon and eggs. I sat down to eat when the phone rang. He answered it and then handed it to me.
“It’s Valerie Banner.”
Valerie Banner sounded as if she were about sixteen years old. “Mrs. Fairweather? I’m Valerie Banner, reporter for the Parkland Herald. How are you this morning?”
“Fine, thanks.”
“I’d like to set up a time when we could meet so I could interview you for the paper. If we could do it today, I’d have the article ready for the Sunday edition.”
“We can do it right now.”
“Oh, but I’d like to get a photo. What’s your schedule like today? I could come to Celosia if that’s easier for you.”
Besides going to Tori’s, I had my return appointment with Rachel’s art classes, and many more people to talk to. “Ms. Banner, I have limited time today.”
“Could I meet you for lunch somewhere, then?”
“I’ll probably be at Deely’s Burger World if you’re familiar with it.”
“I’ll say! I love their cheeseburgers. I’ll meet you there around eleven thirty, if that’s okay. I won’t take but about twenty minutes.”
I started to describe myself so we could find each other, but she interrupted.
“Oh, I know what you look like. See you later.”
I hung up. “She’s going to meet me at Deely’s.”
Jerry put more bacon on my plate. “Did she say how you could recognize her? She sounded like a teenager.”
“No, but she said she knows what I look like. I hope she’s not a pageant groupie. I really don’t want her story to have any sort o
f beauty queen angle.”
“I don’t think Valerie was alive when you were Queen of Parkland.”
I reached over to smack his shoulder. “Thanks a lot.”
“You’ll have to ask her if she’s got a relative working in the newspaper business. Seems to me I’ve heard the name Banner before.” The phone rang again, and he answered it. “Good morning. Oh, hi, Sylvie. Any luck?” He listened for a few moments and then said, “What, this morning? Sure, come on. Yeah, I’ll be here, no problem. Okay, see you after a while.” He hung up. “Flossie Mae and Sylvie didn’t find the watch behind the door.”
“I’m shocked.”
“Sylvie seems to think a quick trip to the spirit world is in order.”
“So they’re coming over right now?”
“Just Sylvie. Flossie Mae has a hair appointment.” He put more eggs on his plate and sat down at the table.
I took a sip of coffee. “Now would be the perfect time to come clean.”
“We’ll see what the spirits have to say.”
“Will the spirits be done by the time we’re expected at the chateau?”
“I’m sure they will.”
“Jerry, just tell her there’s no gold watch. It’ll save everybody a lot of trouble.”
I thought I had him convinced until Sylvie arrived. “Oh, gosh, I’ve interrupted your breakfast,” she said.
“Not at all,” Jerry said. “Come sit down and have some coffee. I can fix more bacon and eggs, if you like.”
“No, thanks.” She pushed back her untidy long brown hair. “I know this is sort of sudden, but I really need to know the location of the watch.”
I gave Jerry a warning glare, which he ignored. “I’ll be glad to help. Give me a few minutes to set up.”
He went into the front parlor. “Sylvie,” I said, “you shouldn’t rely on what Jerry tells you. This isn’t real, you know. It’s more like entertainment.”
Her eyes were wide. “Oh, it’s very real to me. I know he has a link to the other side. You can’t fake these things.”
Okay. Looked like the harder I protested, the more she was going to believe. “I don’t want you to be disappointed if he can’t find this watch.”
“Well, really it’s up to me and Aunt Flossie to find it. We just have to interpret the clues he gives us.”
“What exactly will you do with it if you find it?”
