School's Out for Murder (Schooled in Murder Book 2)

by Tracy D. Comstock

  As if sensing her exhaustion and desire to be anywhere but there, Tad made their excuses and hustled Emily back to his car. Sliding into the passenger seat, she let her head fall back against the headrest. "You okay?" Tad asked softly, reaching around to massage the back of her neck.

  Emily let her head fall forward, enjoying the firm pressure of his fingers kneading out the multiple knots of tension that had taken up residence at the base of her skull. "Yeah," she sighed. "I've wanted to figure things out. To protect Amelia from being blamed for a crime she didn't commit. But now that she's in the hospital and Susanna's lost her home and we're no closer to figuring this whole mess out, I just feel helpless. I haven't had a decent night's sleep in weeks, and…I'm whining," she trailed off, giving Tad an apologetic look.

  "I think you're entitled to some whining. But if you want some cheese with that whine, I could definitely handle some lunch." He gave her one of his slow, brilliant smiles.

  She laughed, as he had hoped she would. "Only if you're hungry for something greasy, unhealthy, and loaded with carbs."

  "Pizza it is," Tad laughed.

  * * *

  Two, okay three, slices of garlic parmesan pizza and a pitcher of Dr. Pepper later, Emily's headache abated from a steady bass drum to a light snare tap. Still, her comfy bed was calling her name. A nap was just what the doctor ordered. Tad had some paperwork still to finish up at the school, so Emily had him drop her off at her duplex on his way. "I'll call you later. Get some rest," Tad told her, pulling her in for a slow, sweet kiss. "Sweet dreams."

  "You got it," Emily told him dreamily, her head swimming with exhaustion. In a haze, she floated up to her front door. Before she got her key in the lock, however, Helen and Barnes stepped out on Helen's porch, and seeing her, waved her over.

  Biting back a sigh of frustration, Emily pocketed her key, and went to join them. The first words out of Helen's mouth were, "Did you get any sleep, Emily? You still look exhausted."

  "Yeah, Taylor, you look like you could use forty winks or more," Barnes joined in.

  "Gee, thanks, guys. Guess it's a good thing I'm not scheduled to appear on America's Next Top Model for another month," Emily told them, choosing to take the high road and ignore Barnes' audible snort.

  "We won't keep you, dear," Helen broke in smoothly. "I just wanted to know if you had seen Amelia yet or knew how she's doing."

  "As a matter of fact, Gabby and I went to see her first thing this morning. She has quite a nasty cut on her noggin, but she'll make a full recovery," Emily told them. She sat down on Helen's porch swing and set it in motion with a push of her foot.

  "That's wonderful news!" Helen exclaimed. Emily nodded her agreement, the motion of the rocking swing making her too sleepy to do much else.

  "Any news from your Detective Gangly-Arms on how the investigation is going?" Barnes asked her. Emily felt like his voice was coming from a long distance as she was half -asleep already, but when she registered his words, she was reminded of the motion of the Ferris wheel car when she had been buffeted by the wind, stuck at the very top. She stuck out her foot and stopped her momentum.

  "He's not my anything," Emily began, "but no. However, Larry McBain showed up at Amelia's room this morning, and what he had to say was quite enlightening." She filled them in on Larry's confession, and was surprised when Barnes, who had been nodding throughout her retelling of the morning's events, gave his two cents' worth.

  "I played a few rounds of golf with Larry and Superintendent Johnson a couple of times. He always seemed like a man without a mission, if you know what I mean. A little lost or something." Emily tried to reign in her bulging eyeballs at such a sincere comment coming from Barnes, who she thought of as a cold fish. When she was trying to think kindly of him, that is. Looked like Helen was having quite the positive influence on the toad.

  Thinking back on the conversation she had overheard between Larry and Superintendent Johnson, Emily asked, "Do you think Janice could have been having an affair also?"

  "When would she have had the time?" Barnes countered. "The woman was constantly working. I hate to speak ill of the dead, but it seems she spent more time thinking up ways to irritate people around town than on how to garner more votes. Looks like her workaholic ways took a toll on her marriage, too."

  "I hate to say it," Helen added, "but I'm happy for Susanna. I think she's carried a torch for Larry ever since their high school days. The last time I was at the library—" Helen broke off as they all heard the unmistakable ringing of her phone through her open front door. "Excuse me," she told them, hurrying inside to catch the call before the answering machine kicked on.

  Emily tried not to panic at being forced to talk to Barnes alone. But she needn't have worried because Helen was back in seconds, a portable phone in her hand. "Emily, it's for you."

  "For me?" Emily asked, confused. "Who would call me here?"

  Helen merely shrugged and passed her the receiver, her hand covering the mouthpiece. "I don't know, but whoever it is sounds upset."

  Intrigued, and concerned, Emily gave a tentative "Hello?"

  "Emily, I'm so glad I found you. You have to come over right away," said a high, strained voice on the other end of the line.

  "Maclaine?" Emily asked, thinking the voice sounded familiar.

  "Yes, it's me," Maclaine responded, her voice taking on a hard edge. "I've found something that belongs to you, and I would appreciate it if you would come by and pick it up as soon as possible."

  "What could you possibly have that belongs to me?" Emily asked, but she was talking to dead air. Maclaine had already hung up. Looks like her nap was going to have to wait just a little longer.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  On the short drive over to the McBain home, Emily wracked her brain, trying to decide what Maclaine could possibly have found that would belong to her. Part of her wondered if Tad could be considered a possession in Maclaine's eyes, but Tad was working up at the school. Maclaine had left her no chance to ask questions, and frankly, she was just tired enough to be thoroughly irritated at the unqualified summons to appear. Whatever Maclaine had found, or thought she had found, better be important. She was exhausted, cranky, and in no mood for games. In fact, she was really in no mood for Maclaine. She'd seen and heard enough of her lately to last her a while. But, she had to admit, she was curious if Larry would be there and whether or not he had told Maclaine about him and Susanna.

  Parking in front of the gorgeous home, Emily once again made her way up the front steps, but before she could even press the doorbell, Maclaine flung the doors open and unceremoniously yanked Emily by the arm into the foyer.

  "Hey!" Emily exclaimed, jerking her arm free and rubbing at the spot where Maclaine's fingers had dug into her upper arm.

  Maclaine spun on her heel, completely ignoring Emily's irritation. She stalked the length of the foyer, snatched something off a console table, and then whipped around to face Emily, her long blonde curls lashing her cheeks as she did so. Emily stared at her, wondering if Larry had told her about him and Susanna and that was what had her so rattled. For Maclaine looked like a woman who had just learned terrible news. Her eyes were wide and her cheeks flushed, but as she began to march back to where Emily still stood by the partially open front door, Emily could see that it was more than shock that was holding Maclaine in its grip. Maclaine was furious. The next words out of her mouth left Emily with no doubt that she had Maclaine's overriding emotion pegged.

  "How dare you?" Maclaine spat, spittle flying from her perfectly made up lips and landing on Emily's cheek.

  Emily raised a hand to her cheek and carefully wiped the dampness from her face. She hesitated to answer, completely in the dark as to why Maclaine was so angry at her. She had nothing to do with her uncle's affair, so what else could she be referring to? Did she think Emily had something to do with her aunt's death? Speaking slowly, afraid to anger Maclaine more, she held out her hand and said, "It's obvious you're upset, Maclaine. But
I honestly have no idea why you are angry with me."

  Apparently, those were the wrong words to say. Maclaine's entire face turned as red as the gorgeous silk blouse she was wearing. Her entire body vibrated with the force of her anger, and for the first time since walking through the door, Emily wondered if she should be afraid of Maclaine. Had Emily been right in her musings the night before? Was Maclaine the guilty party? Was she angry at Emily for messing up her murderous plans?

  But no, that didn't seem to be the issue as Maclaine pushed right up in her face and said, "You can't have him, you know that, don't you? No matter how innocent you play, I know what you've been doing."

  Him? Emily was at a loss. What him was Maclaine referring to? Tad? But Maclaine knew that Emily and Tad were together. She tried again to get a straight answer out of Maclaine. "Him, who? Seriously, Maclaine, I have no idea what you're talking about? What has you so upset?"

  This time Maclaine's blonde curls lashed Emily's own cheek as Maclaine whipped her body around to once again stalk away from her. Whirling around once she reached the other end of the foyer, she snapped, "You have no idea why I'm so upset? Are you kidding me? You're not fooling anybody. You've been against me since the day I got here. Was this your way of trying to get rid of me?"

  Emily was losing patience. "Get rid of you? From where? School? Ellington? Why would I want to get rid of you?"

  "Because you're jealous," Maclaine sneered. "You're jealous because I'm prettier, younger, richer, skinnier— You name it, I've got it."

  Now Emily felt her own face burning with anger. "Alright, Maclaine, I've had just about enough. This has been a long enough week without having to play guessing games with you. I get you're mad at me. Now, if you want to tell me why, fine. If not, I'm leaving. I will not stand here and be insulted." She turned and grabbed the handle of the front door, but before she could turn it, Maclaine had her by the hair, dragging her back.

  In complete shock, Emily let out a primal scream of anger. Maclaine had been right about one thing—Emily did outweigh her. Using that to her advantage, she stepped back and using her more ample hips, knocked Maclaine off balance. With a screech, Maclaine fell backwards, but her grip on Emily's hair never loosened, leaving Emily no recourse but to fall with her. Landing on the polished wood floor, Emily felt the breath rush out of her lungs. She lay still for a moment, trying to regain her breath, her hand clamped on Maclaine's where she still held a hunk of Emily's hair in a death grip.

  Maclaine recovered before she did, and finally letting go of Emily's hair, she scooted back so that her back was against the stairs and promptly burst into tears. Emily struggled to stand, straightening her rumpled shirt and smoothing down her hair. She was now convinced that something had caused Maclaine to snap. She sat sobbing hysterically, something cradled in her left hand. Emily wasn't sure whether to call for help or try to reason with her one last time. She checked her pocket and then remembered she'd left her new phone charging in the console of her car. Heaving a resigned sigh, she moved cautiously toward Maclaine, trying to stay out of striking range. "Maclaine, what is going on? I'll help you if I can."

  "I'm all alone," Maclaine sobbed, lifting her tear-streaked face to Emily. She took a deep breath and then continued to sob, "I've lost Aunt Janice. Uncle Larry has Susanna now, and I have no one. No one!" So Larry had told her about his feelings for the town's librarian.

  "That's not true," Emily told her, lowering herself to the floor next to the heartbroken young woman. "You have friends here. We're all glad to have you as a part of the Ellington staff. And what about your boyfriend? Did something happen with him?"

  Instead of answering her, Maclaine began to cry even harder. She lifted her left hand and let what she was holding drop into Emily's lap. Emily picked it up in wonder. It was her missing cell phone! "Where did you find my phone?" Emily asked, still unclear as to why her phone seemed to have sent Maclaine over the edge.

  "It was at his place. I went over there to talk to him about what Uncle Larry had told me about him and Susanna. He wasn't there, but I know where he keeps his spare key. He had your phone shoved under some papers on his desk, but when I went to write him a note, I knocked over the papers and found this. It's yours, right?"

  "Yes, it's mine. I've been looking for it since the night Amelia was arrested. Where did you say you found it?"

  "At his house!" Maclaine wailed. "You can't have them both, Emily! It's not fair! You already have Tad. Why did you have to try to take him away from me, too?"

  Emily stared at her, dumbfounded. Was Maclaine in her right mind? "Who can't I have? Where did you find my phone?" Emily asked her again with more force. Whatever sick carnival ride Maclaine was on, Emily wanted off.

  "I found it at my boyfriend's house," Maclaine ground out through her tears. 'How long have you been seeing him? Two months? More?"

  Emily pushed up from the floor and held out a hand for Maclaine. "You've lost it, girl. Stand up. Let's talk about this like reasonable adults. I just told you that I lost my phone. I have no idea who your boyfriend even is. You've never once mentioned him by name."

  Maclaine brushed Emily's hand away and scrambled to her feet by herself, shoving at her tumbled hair. "That's because he told me that we needed to keep things on the down low. He knew Aunt Janice and Uncle Larry didn't like him. But we thought, when the time was right, we could tell them, and they'd see how happy I was, and—and I guess none of that matters now. But what I want to know is how you could cheat on Tad. He's an amazing guy, and he deserves better. So do I," she ended softly, her sobs slowing.

  "For the last time, Maclaine, I have no idea who your boyfriend is. I lost my phone. And I have never, nor will I ever, cheat on Tad. I don't know what scenario you've cooked up in that blonde head of yours, but you're way off base here." Emily wondered if reasoning was the right way to go with Maclaine. She had been under a terrible strain the past few days. Maybe she was finally cracking. She pressed the power button on her cell phone hoping it might still have a charge. She needed to call someone to help with Maclaine. The screen on the phone began to light up and Emily felt a surge of hope, but in the next second, with a quick beep, the phone turned black in her hand. Apparently, she was on her own with this crazed version of Maclaine.

  Hearing a reduction in Maclaine's sobs, Emily looked up to see her staring glassy-eyed at the phone in Emily's hand. She was shaking uncontrollably, and automatically, Emily moved toward her. Maclaine flinched at her touch, but Emily said, "Why don't we go into the kitchen and get some water? Then we can sit down and hash this out."

  Maclaine turned and made her way down the hallway to the kitchen like a person in a daze. Pointing at the refrigerator, she collapsed onto the bench in the breakfast nook that Emily had so admired the first time she was here. Emily pulled open the enormous fridge door and extracted two bottles of water. Snatching a roll of paper towels off the counter, she pushed both towels and a bottle in front of Maclaine before taking a seat opposite her.

  "Okay," she started, trying to catch Maclaine's eye, "you went to your boyfriend's house to talk to him about Larry. Then, while leaving him a note, you found my phone. The phone I lost earlier this week," she emphasized. Maclaine nodded. Taking this as an encouraging sign, Emily continued, "And you think, because you found my phone at his house, that I'm involved with your boyfriend. Is that right?" Emily tried to clarify.

  Maclaine looked her in the eye now, the anger in her own eyes burning through the tears that still shone there. "I know you are." Her voice was full of venom. "You're Emily Taylor, Miss Perfect, with the perfect family, the perfect friends, the perfect boyfriend. But that wasn't enough, was it? You had to have my boyfriend, too."

  Emily tried to push back her own anger in order to get through to this traumatized woman. "I'm sorry you've such a low opinion of me, Maclaine, but I assure you, I'm not seeing your boyfriend. I don't even know his name, so how could I possibly be involved with him?"

  The sound of the front
door closing had both of them halting their conversation. "It's probably Uncle Larry," Maclaine told her. "I just have one question, Emily," she then continued. "Why did you pretend to be a friend to me when all along you were sticking a knife in my back?"

  "For Pete's sake, Maclaine. For the last time, I am not having an affair with your boyfriend!" Emily was out of patience.

  Maclaine glanced up and toward the door to the kitchen. Her eyes welled, and her hand shook as she pointed behind Emily. "You really expect me to believe that? Why don't you ask him? Maybe he'll tell me the truth about your affair."

  Emily spun around so fast she practically gave herself whiplash. Standing in the doorway to the McBain kitchen was one of the last people Emily would ever have expected to see. She suddenly realized why Maclaine never mentioning her boyfriend's name had bothered her so much. Clearly, Maclaine's boyfriend had quite a bit to hide.

  "So, ladies, what have I missed?" Trent Winters asked, sliding onto the bench beside Emily, effectively blocking her escape.

  * * *

  "Trent is your boyfriend?" Emily asked Maclaine stupidly.

  Maclaine nodded, sniffling into her paper towel. "Why?" the brokenhearted blonde asked Trent. "If you're not involved with Emily, like she's been insisting, why did you have her phone?"

  Trent leaned over to pat Maclaine's hand in a condescending manner, and then he leaned back and stretched out his arms along the back of the bench he and Emily were sitting on. "I picked her phone up by mistake one evening. No big deal. You'd have to be certifiable to think I'd ever have an affair with someone like Emily Taylor. I mean, look at her," he raked his eyes over Emily, disgust in his every word. "She's definitely not my type."

  In another world, Emily might have been insulted, but at that moment, she couldn't imagine anyone whose opinion mattered less to her than that of the cheating scumbag Trent Winters. Smiling widely, she told him, "I consider that a true blessing."