“So that’s what she came here to do.”
Eleven
Wednesday morning, I got to school early. It wasn’t as if I had a choice. Michael Durant had scheduled the pageant committee meeting for eight o’clock.
Since that meant I had to leave home before the school bus came, I took Davey with me and dropped him off at Hunting Ridge Elementary. On the way, we stopped at a doughnut shop and picked up an assorted dozen. I like to think that my moral standards are pretty high, but times like this, I’m willing to resort to bribery if it will get the job done.
At the school, I let Davey out at the curb, then watched until he was safely inside. He’d been given strict instructions to take the box of doughnuts directly to the faculty lounge. That way, any teachers who’ d already arrived would know he was in the building and I could be sure he was in good hands.
Ah, the joys of motherhood. If my son ever actually did grow up and leave home, I’d have so much free time on my hands I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.
Though it was early, the teachers’ parking lot at Howard Academy was already half-full. Not surprisingly, Russell Hanover’s silver BMW was parked in its conspicuous spot next to the back door. He and I didn’t always agree, but I had to admire the man’s dedication to Howard Academy and all the school stood for. The headmaster was unrelenting in his quest to make the academy a showplace that any parent would be proud to be associated with.
Since the faculty lounge was bound to be busy first thing in the morning, Michael had asked us to meet in the library. Books had been important to Honoria, and the room she’d devoted to them was spacious and inviting. Volumes of poetry and literature filled the shelves; and a bevy of comfortable, overstuffed chairs enticed students to sit and read. Just entering the room always made me feel good.
Michael, seated at a long oak table near a window, saw my smile. “You’re in a good mood this morning. I hope that bodes well for our meeting.”
“Good mood be damned,” growled Ed, coming in behind me. “Do you know how early I had to get out of bed to make it here in time?”
“No,” said Rita, stepping out from behind one of the stacks. She was carrying a cup of hot coffee and looked as though she’d just as soon toss it at him as talk to him. “Why don’t you tell us?”
“You think I’m joking,” Ed groused. “The traffic on 95 is murder this time of day—”
“People!” Michael clapped his hands, cutting off the complaint. “Since we’re all here, let’s get down to business.”
I pulled out a chair on the other side of the table. “What about Sally? Isn’t she coming?”
“I haven’t spoken to her,” said Michael. “I left a note in her box, but I doubt she got it. She’s been out of school since Monday, and as far as I know, she isn’t back yet.”
“She was here for our last meeting,” Rita spoke up. “That was on Monday.”
“Apparently she left right after we broke up and hasn’t been seen since.”
“Chicken,” Ed muttered under his breath.
“Pardon me?” I said.
Ed chirped loudly and flapped his arms. Moron. “One small crisis and Sally Minor goes running home, leaving the rest of us to deal with it.”
“I’d hardly call a murder a small crisis,” Rita said quietly.
“Maybe she’s sick,” I said.
“We’re all sick,” said Ed. “Sick of running the media gauntlet. Sick of the police asking their interminable questions. It doesn’t mean we aren’t here, doing our duty by our students.”
“That’s enough,” Michael said. “I’m sure there’s a very good reason for Sally’s absence, not that it’s any of our business. We only have a limited amount of time this morning. Let’s try to get something accomplished, shall we?”
It took him a minute to get everyone organized and concentrating on the job at hand, but Michael did manage to turn the meeting around. There wasn’t much to discuss, however, as we still didn’t have a topic for the pageant, much less a script.
“You’ll continue looking through the archives, won’t you?” Michael asked me, sounding almost desperate.
“Of course. I’m enjoying it.”
“What about the Poodle?”
“What Poodle?” Rita looked back and forth between us.
“The one in the portrait,” said Ed. “How could you miss it? It’s sitting right next to Honoria. According to the plaque, its name is Poupee.” Obviously French wasn’t Ed’s strong suit; he pronounced the name poopy.
“I think that’s Poo-pay,” Michael corrected smoothly. “It seems that Melanie has a dog at home that looks just like that one. I was hoping we might be able to make her part of our pageant.”
Rita looked interested; predictably, Ed was frowning. “So now we’re making this a pageant about dogs?”
“It was only an idea.” Michael glanced around the table. “Something we’ve been sorely lacking in otherwise.”
“Is she one of those fancy Poodles you see in the Westminster dog show on TV?” asked Rita. “What fun! Do you ever bring her to school?”
“I haven’t yet—”
“But you should! I’ll bet the kids would love her. Old Mr. Bailey always used to bring Heidi to school, remember? It was like she was the school mascot.”
Michael looked every bit as clueless as I felt, but Ed nodded grudgingly. “Bailey used to teach social studies. He retired at the end of last year. Had a Collie that looked just like Lassie. I don’t know how it got started, but he always had Heidi here with him. She used to sleep in the corner of his classroom. Nobody seemed to mind.” Ed shot me a look. “Of course, his dog was very well behaved.”
“So is mine.” The impulse to defend Faith was strong and automatic.
“You should ask Mr. Hanover if you can bring her to school,” said Rita. “I’ll bet he wouldn’t mind, especially since she’s going to have something to do in the pageant. The precedent’s already been set, and I know the kids would be thrilled.”
“I will,” I said, delighted by the suggestion.
The only thing I’d ever regretted about taking on the responsibility of owning a dog was that Faith had to spend so much of each day alone. Poodles are naturally gregarious animals. Though she’d adapted to the situation, I knew Faith would be much happier if she could spend her days with me.
Out in the hall, the first bell rang. “Damn,” said Michael, glancing at his watch. “At this rate, we’d be better off rescheduling the pageant for spring of next year.”
“Don’t worry,” said Rita, gathering up her things. “It will come together. Things always do in the end.”
I followed the others out the door and hurried to my classroom. I had three tutoring sessions scheduled back-to-back, followed by the appointment with Detective Shertz at eleven.
I hoped Jane was planning to show up. Especially after the preemptory way I’d summoned him to the school, Detective Shertz wasn’t going to be pleased if she stood us up. Worse still, I wouldn’t even have an address or phone number to offer in her stead.
Fortunately, I was too busy with my students to spend the next few hours worrying. What most of the kids I tutor have in common is parents who are wealthy enough to provide them with the best education money can buy. But money alone won’t get you a Howard Academy diploma. Honoria Howard was a stern taskmaster, and her standards endure to this day. Any student who has hopes of making the grade at Howard Academy had better be prepared to work at the task.
Getting that point across isn’t always easy, and that morning I had some of my biggest challenges. That’s probably why it took me so long to notice that the carton of records I’d brought up from the basement on Monday had reappeared in my classroom. To my chagrin, I found the box by tripping over it.
“Ms. Travis, are you all right?” Willie Boyd, a tall eighth grader with long, dangling limbs and smooth brown skin, leapt out of his chair and rushed to help me up.
“I’m fine.” I scrambled to
my feet and dusted off my wool pants. “Where did that come from?”
“It was just sitting there,” said Willie. He was a really bright kid, the kind who could keep up with the curriculum easily and would have if, as a scholarship student, he wasn’t having some problems adjusting to the school’s distinctive ambiance.
“But how did it get here?” I was thinking aloud and didn’t really expect an answer, but Willie gave it a try.
“Maybe it’s school supplies, and someone forgot to tell you they were coming.”
“No, it isn’t school supplies.”
It was the archive box all right. Thank goodness the cleaning crew hadn’t thrown it out. But why had it disappeared and how had it been returned? The box had no identifying marks on it. Once it had left my classroom, how would anyone have known this was where it belonged?
“It looks heavy,” said Willie.
“It is,” I said, rubbing my shin.
“Want me to run it down to the office for you? I bet they’ll know what to do with it.” His expression was suffused with sincerity, as if he truly hoped I wouldn’t recognize his offer as a blatant attempt to get out of doing further schoolwork.
“No, it’s okay here. I’ll deal with it later.”
Disappointed, Willie got back to his books. We’d already succeeded in pulling his C in English Literature up to a B. Now we were aiming higher.
By the time the session ended, it was almost eleven. I’d asked Detective Shertz to meet us in my classroom because I’d thought Jane might feel more comfortable there. So far, there was no sign of her.
As Willie packed up his books, the door to the classroom flew open and a teenage boy came swaggering in. He had spiky blond hair, broad shoulders, and well-muscled forearms. He gazed around the room with a derisive sneer. “Is this the place?”
“Which place is that?” I asked, moving forward to block his access. Clearly, he wasn’t a student. Howard Academy only went through eighth grade; unless this boy had stayed back several years, he was much too old. “Who are you?”
“Brad.” His gaze stopped roaming and settled on me. “I’m a friend of Jane’s.”
“Where is she?”
“She’s coming. She sent me on ahead to scope out the place.”
He walked around the room, peering in closets and out the windows. Checking for escape routes in case they needed to make a hasty exit? I almost laughed. It looked to me like Brad had been watching too many action/ adventure movies.
“You okay, Ms. Travis?” Willie hesitated by the door, his expression troubled. “You want me to hang around for anything?”
“Everything’s fine. Detective Shertz will be here any minute.”
“I got a minute,” Willie persisted, staring hard at Brad. The two hadn’t exchanged a word, but the tension between them was palpable.
“No, go ahead to your next class. I wouldn’t want you to be late.”
Willie took his time leaving the room. I heard a thump in the hallway and realized he’d pushed the doorstop into position to hold the classroom door open. Interesting.
The gesture went for nothing when Detective Shertz appeared a moment later. He kicked the doorstop away and pulled the door shut behind him. Belatedly he seemed to realize that Jane wasn’t in the room.
“Where’s the girl?” he asked me. “I thought you said she’d be here. And what’s with him?”
“Jane asked me to accompany her to this meeting for moral support.” Brad’s voice was stiff, his posture even more so. I wondered if he’d practiced the speech in front of a mirror.
“Her family ought to be here for moral support,” Shertz said, frowning.
“Jane hasn’t got any family that matters. She asked me to help out.”
The doorknob turned, the door opened a sliver, and Jane slipped inside. She looked at Brad and smiled, nodded at me, then walked across the room to the policeman.
“You must be Detective Shertz. I heard you wanted to talk to me.”
“And you’re the girl who found the body.” It was more a statement than a question.
Jane nodded.
“How old are you?”
“Twelve.”
I gasped softly. I’d pegged her age as two years younger.
“Brad here says you don’t have any family. What about a guardian? Who do you live with?”
“My grandmother. I guess she’s my guardian. She thinks she’s in charge, anyway.”
“How about this?” said Shertz. “Let’s call her and get her over here. It’d be better if you had a grown-up here during questioning.”
“No,” Jane said firmly. “Ms. Travis is a grown-up. She can stay.”
Patience didn’t come easily to the detective. I could see him marshaling his. “Ms. Travis isn’t a relative.”
“It doesn’t matter. She’s the one I want. If you bring my grandmother over here, I won’t say a word.”
“What about him?” Shertz jerked a thumb in Brad’s direction.
“He’s my friend. When I told him I was going to be talking to the police, he said he’d better come along.”
Shertz didn’t look happy. “I guess that would be because he has experience in matters like this.”
“Hey, man!” Brad jumped up from his perch on the edge of a table. “We don’t have to be here. If you’re not going to be civil, we’ll walk.”
“Oh Brad, calm down.” Jane’s voice sounded weary enough to make me wonder how often she had to soothe his moods. “It’s no big deal. Let’s just answer the man’s questions and get it over with.”
“Maybe you should have a lawyer,” Brad said suddenly.
“That’s certainly her option.” Shertz’s tone was mild.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Jane. “Brad, maybe it would be better if you waited for me outside, okay?”
“No, not okay.” His face set in stubborn lines.
“I’ll only be a few minutes.”
“You need somebody here with you. Someone to be on your side.”
“Ms. Travis will look out for me. Besides, I doubt Detective Shertz is planning to threaten me with his gun.” She sounded amused. “Are you?”
“No, of course not.” Shertz didn’t find the question funny at all.
“There, you see? I’ll be fine.” Jane walked Brad to the door, pushed him through, and shut it behind him.
“Curious choice of friends you got there,” Shertz mentioned as Jane walked back and sat down.
“We hang around together sometimes, that’s all. I haven’t lived here that long. Brad knows more about the town than I do. He looks out for me, acts as my protector.”
“Down at the police station we know Brad pretty well,” said Shertz. “To me he looks like the kind of guy who looks out for himself.”
Jane remained composed. “I didn’t come here to discuss my social life. Ms. Travis said you have some questions for me?”
Slowly, in great detail, Detective Shertz led her through Monday’s events. The story Jane told was much the same as the one she’d offered me. I doubt that the recital offered the detective many clues, but it probably filled in some gaps. When Jane came to the part about Krebbs’s last word, Shertz made her repeat it twice.
“Jason,” he said. “Like J-A-S-O-N?”
“That’s what it sounded like.”
He nodded and wrote the information down. In less than fifteen minutes, the interview was finished. Jane left immediately.
Detective Shertz remained in his seat. He didn’t say anything for a minute.
“I’m surprised you didn’t ask for her last name,” I said. “We have to get in touch with her grandmother.”
“I already have. We needed her permission to proceed today.” Shertz glanced at me and smiled. “Don’t look so surprised. It wasn’t that hard. We had a first name. Jane’s too young to drive, so we had a probable school district. Judging by what you said, we also had a history of truant behavior.
“The school doesn’t know that, by th
e way. They think she has mono. Someone who says she’s the grandmother calls in with periodic updates.”
“Jane,” I said.
“That girl’s no dummy. On top of that, I gather she’s used to looking out for herself. This arrangement with the grandmother only came about in January. Before that she was in Boston with her mother.”
“She told me her mother lived on the street.”
“Sometimes she does. Sometimes Jane did, too. Bringing her down here was a last-resort option. I don’t think anyone’s welcomed her with open arms.”
“Except maybe Brad,” I said unhappily.
Shertz looked up. “He hang around here much?”
“Not that I know of. Today’s the first time I’ve ever seen him. Why?”
“That kid’s bad news. A high school dropout with no visible means of support. We’ve had him in a couple of times for vandalism and petty theft. He’s a problem waiting to happen, and I can promise you this: he isn’t doing Jane any good.”
The detective got ready to leave. “There’s something else. Didn’t you tell me that Jane and Krebbs were at each other’s throats? That kid thinks of Brad as her protector. Kind of makes you wonder who she needs protection from. By the way, I’d bet a bundle she doesn’t know his last name.”
“Does it matter?”
Shertz nodded slowly. “It sure as hell does. It’s Jameson.”
It took me a second to make the connection.
“Jason?” said Shertz. “Jameson? It just might be close enough.”
Twelve
As soon as Detective Shertz left, I headed over to the dining room for lunch. The menu posted near the door promised spaghetti bolognese, garlic breadsticks, and Caesar salad. My mouth watered just reading about it.
The first course was being served when Sally Minor slid into an empty seat beside me. “Good, I’m not too late,” she said, grabbing a napkin and smoothing it onto her lap. “Food always seems to disappear quickly on spaghetti day.”
“That’s because all the kids go for extra helpings.” I passed the breadsticks her way. “Are you feeling okay?”
Melanie Travis 06 - Hush Puppy Page 10
