Prepped to Kill (Ricky Steele Mysteries Book 1)

by M. Lee Prescott

  “Dinny, this is harassment. The police can go after him for this.”

  “There’s no way to prove Jared sent this.”

  “Who else could it be? You said yourself, no one else knows about this except you, Ellen and your aunt.”

  “And Rolly. Rolly knows most of it.”

  “Well, he sure as hell didn’t send this.”

  “No, of course not. Look, forget it. It’s just a day in the life, you know? Headmastering isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, especially when your wife is sleeping with one of your faculty members.”

  Oh, dear, wallowing in self-pity would never do. I pointed to the packet. “Dinny, can I see the rest of them?”

  As he pushed the folder toward me, our food arrived, served without fanfare by Alberta, who had no time for chitchat. I gobbled up my entire stack of blueberry pancakes, slurping up every last bit of syrup along with the homemade sausage Alberta had insisted I get on the side. Dinny barely touched his omelet, chasing it around the plate before retiring his knife and fork. I was tempted to reach over and try a few bites, but I restrained myself.

  Finally, I said, “Why don’t we get out of here? Clear our heads before planning our next move, okay?”

  That seemed to perk him up. “I know just the spot. We can even take a short walk, if you like.” He grabbed the check, threw a bunch of bills on the table and waved to Alberta on our way out.

  I had in mind a quick chat in the parking lot, but dutifully followed his black Lexus until he turned off the road at a sign that read: “Red Fox Trail, two miles.” Ours were the only cars in the lot. It was a clear day, the sun just peeking through the treetops as we started along the path. We ambled along, gradually winding our way to the crest of a small hill where trail markers pointed to either a five-mile trek along Beaver Pass, or a quarter-mile path to White Birch Falls. We chose the latter and soon reached a clearing at the edge of a stream, the rushing and roaring of the falls just above us.

  “Come here,” he said, taking my hand, crouching down to lead me into what looked like a briar patch. Miraculously, we emerged unscathed a few yards later in a small tree-shrouded clearing, an old log bench perched at the edge of the falls. “Nice, huh?” He sat down on the bench, patting the seat beside him. “We found this a few years ago, Ellen, the kids and I. I’ve never told anyone else about it. It’s kind of our secret place. I’ll bet that’s the way it is for everyone who finds it.”

  “It’s beautiful,” I murmured, although I’m not sure he heard me over the roar of the falls.

  He did. “So are you.” He reached over, touching my cheek. “You’ve grown up, quite a lot, haven’t you?”

  His touch unleashed sensations from my cheek to my toes. I pulled back, and he dropped his hand, smiling. “How is it that you’re not married?”

  “I was, for a short time.”

  “Kids?”

  I shook my head. “I’m not sure I’d be the greatest mom.”

  “When did you split up?”

  “Almost a long time ago.”

  “No one else?”

  “There have been a few. Nothing serious.” How did we get on this subject?

  “Dinny, I’m not sure what you expect here, but nothing’s going to happen. You’re not in the best place right now and while I’d like to help you out, I’m not real eager to take part in a revenge-on-the-wife scheme.”

  He laughed, turning away to stare at the falls. “You know, I almost kissed you that day in the woods. Remember the day I brought you out to set that silly squirrel free?”

  How could I forget? It was the end of a tortuous week that had included at least four trips to Mrs. Petty’s office, none of them pleasant. Katie and I had adopted Waldo, the squirrel, and he had been living on our fire escape for over a month. We’d been feeding him, petting him and forming a serious adolescent attachment to the little guy. With time, Waldo grew tame enough to sit on our shoulders and let us stroke his back. Everything had been hunk- dory until Sissy, my roommate, had one of her temper tantrums simply because Waldo gave her the tiniest nip—probably deserved—and chipped one of her painted fingernails. Before we could calm her down, she ran crying to the housemother. I can still see Sissy, smug and self-satisfied as she returned to the room, the tottering Miss Gray following in her wake.

  Of course, Miss Gray tottered straight to Muriel, who slated Waldo for immediate extermination. I tried everything, even broke down and called my father, pleading for him to intervene. Predictably, he sided with Muriel, as did Katie’s parents, the dreadful specter of rabies hanging over the spectacle. Finally, in an act of compassion, Dinny intervened at the zero hour and offered to drive us to the nearby woods to set Waldo free, thwarting Muriel’s plan, which involved traps, poison, and a local exterminator. On the designated day, Katie came down with the flu so it was up to me to capture Waldo, put him in a small cage, and drive with Dinny alone to say goodbye to our beloved little friend. “Yes, I remember.”

  “There was always something about you, Steele. The rebellious wild child, no mother, always angry at your dad, belligerent and stoic no matter what punishment Aunt meted out. Then, there you were, at the edge of the woods, crying your eyes out over a stupid squirrel.”

  I opened my mouth to protest that Waldo was not stupid, but lapsed into silence, not wishing to dwell on memories of that painful period.

  “I wanted so badly to kiss you, although of course, I couldn’t, teacher taking advantage of a vulnerable student and all. We were only about six or seven years apart in age, when you think about it. Could well have meant the end of my career, but somehow, I couldn’t shake the feeling that that’s what you needed at that moment.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Who knows. Maybe a magical kiss from you would have snapped me out of five years of misery just like Sleeping Beauty.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “It’s okay, don’t worry. I’m flattered, really.” I stood up, turning my back on him.

  “I wanted to make you feel loved. That’s what I meant. You looked like you needed that. Hell, I needed that. You were… There was just something about you.”

  “Must have been the braces.”

  He took hold of my hand, pulling me back to sit. “No, it wasn’t your braces, Ricky Steele. It was you. And I stayed as far away from you as I could for the next few years, afraid if we had another opportunity I would cross the line.”

  I turned, staring into the deep blue eyes. Was he telling the truth or was this just a come-on? He reached over and touched my cheek. This time I did not pull away and when his lips met mine, I responded for two or three seconds. Then, wobbly knees and all, I stood and stepped away.

  Pull yourself together, Steele! “Dinny, I repeat—this is not going to happen.”

  He nodded, unconvincingly in my opinion, then led the way toward the path. We walked the rest of the way in silence, sodden leaves muffling our footsteps. When I reached my car, I reached in and pulled out the folder of letters and notes from him. “We didn’t get far on these. I’ll take good care of them and don’t worry. I’ll get them back to you in the morning if that’s okay.”

  “Fine. Listen, Ricky…I—”

  “Dinny, it’s okay.”

  “But, I want—” He stopped, his hand grazing my cheek. “I don’t want you to think I was trying to… I mean, this wasn’t some sort of payback to Ellen.”

  I smiled, knowing the truth, but letting him off the hook. “I know.” I opened my car door, but he held on, spinning me around. This kiss was slower, and I have to admit, I lingered a little longer before pulling away, barely getting into my car without passing out. “Gotta go,” I mumbled. “See you at the luncheon.”

  He smiled, waving me off before returning to his car. Who says girls don’t get to live out any of their fantasies?

  CHAPTER 12

  When I returned to the Breeze Bye, Lolly was still asleep, so I took the packet of letters to the lobby and sat in a corner by the window. No sooner
had I opened the envelope than our innkeeper emerged from the back room.

  “Gonna have some coffee?” Amanda was dressed in what appeared to be a chenille bedspread, a lovely shade of chartreuse. Not a flattering look for her, in my opinion, but then, what I know about fashion could be written on the head of a pin.

  “Sure, gee, almost forgot.” I hopped up, sidling over to the breakfast table.

  “Take a bagel, too. They’re fresh.”

  “Actually, I’ve had breakfast, so I’ll just have some coffee.” Why was I explaining myself to her?

  “Breakfast here not good enough for you?”

  Did she badger all the guests, or was it just me? “No,” I answered, slowly. “I had a business meeting.”

  “Too embarrassed to bring your business associates here?”

  “I didn’t know we could invite people for breakfast.” I smiled sweetly, dropping three packets of sugar and lots of cream in my coffee.

  “Five dollars extra, but sure. We allow it.”

  “That’s so nice of you, but I didn’t have a chance to ask. Besides, he picked the place.”

  “Oh, I see. You got a sweetheart up here?”

  “No, like I said, it was business.” I was beginning to think I’d landed in the Bates Motel.

  “Uh-huh. That’s what they all say, honey.” Her smirk created two extra chins.

  “Coffee’s great.” I lied, taking the tiniest possible sip, desperate to change the subject. Actually, it had the consistency of tar and tasted like burnt peas. Someone had worked very hard to make coffee this bad. “Do you grind the beans yourself?”

  “You kidding! Who has time for that? No, they’re straight off the truck.”

  “Straight off the truck? Mmm.” I didn’t ask. Didn’t want to know. “Listen, I’ve gotta get going. Thanks. How long’s breakfast open? I’ll send my roommate down for something.”

  “Eleven. What about your papers there?”

  “Thanks,” I said, grabbing the envelope and retreating to my car. Checking the lobby windows to make certain I was out of Amanda’s line of vision, I deposited my full cup of coffee into a trash bin on the way.

  The letters were ugly things, ravings of a disgruntled, deeply disturbed individual. Most were attacks on Dinny or Brooke Richards. They all alleged that Richards was incompetent and Dinny refused to deal with the school’s obvious “crisis in leadership.” While the letters never referred to Phelps by name, they accused the administration of squashing any dissent by illegal firings. Often they railed about how Dinny persecuted faculty who disagreed with his decisions, particularly in regards to staffing. There were illusions to administrative misconduct and accusations of a lack of morality among administrators and certain staff members. There was a particularly ugly tirade in one letter about sexual morals, and how the administration was standing by, allowing faculty with aberrant sexual orientations to infect students. What was that all about? I wondered, noting the date. Two weeks after Jared Phelps’s dismissal.

  I went through them again, trying to find a common theme or clear political agenda underneath the vitriol, but came up more confused with every pass. Except for the tirade about sexual orientation, which I took to mean homosexuals, I would have guessed the letter writer to have quite liberal political views. From what I’d heard of Jared Phelps, I had him pegged as a liberal. Most of the letters “from a concerned community member” sounded like him, but somehow the ranting about homosexuals didn’t fit.

  The last four letters made reference to the affair between Ellen Petty and Phelps, but to the best of Dinny’s knowledge, no one but himself had received these. The first two had been typed messages, no pictures. The third, delivered to his office a week ago, had a crude drawing of a tree with a heart drawn on its bark, “J.P. loves E.P.” Why would Jared suddenly change his tactics, and what was he trying to accomplish with these latest letters? There had been no demands made, no “or elses,” just threats to expose the affair. But why? To embarrass Dinny, and by extension the school? It didn’t make sense. In every letter, Jared’s agenda came across loud and clear—dismiss the current administration and hire new people, preferably himself and other lunatics he managed to coerce. Ellen’s affair, no matter how titillating, would not necessarily bring about Dinny’s dismissal.

  Glancing at my watch, I was startled to find it was close to eleven. Time for Lolly to get up, especially if she wanted to catch the tail end of the Breeze Bye breakfast buffet. I crammed all the letters back into the manila envelope and headed back to the room.

  “‘Bout time you got back!” She was dressed, in another blazer and shorts ensemble, this time in pale yellow. Her makeup was perfect, hair pulled back in a yellow headband that matched her suit.

  “You look nice.” The understatement of the century. “How’d you get ready so quick? I popped in here a little while ago and you were dead to the world.”

  “You slammed the door on your way out, dearie. Now, sit—I wanna hear every detail.”

  “Let me shower and then I’ll fill you in on our way to campus. Where are we meeting Katie?”

  “At the luncheon. She wanted to visit with her dear old friend, Ruth Weyman, in admissions. You know Briarwood, schmoozing every minute.”

  “Be right out,” I said, peeling off my clothes. “If you want something, they still have breakfast laid out in the lobby.”

  “Great,” I heard her say as I stepped into the shower. “I need coffee.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Lolly slid into the passenger seat, a grande Starbucks hazelnut roast in hand. “There ought to be a law against people like Miss Breezie owning establishments that serve the public. Honestly, Ricky, that muck, whatever it was, practically killed me. And, dearie pie, you’re officially on my shit list for suggesting I go down there in the first place!”

  I laughed, swinging the car out onto Main Street, hoping the distraction of her encounter with Amanda Breeze would spare me the third degree about breakfast with Dinny. No such luck. As I turned up Tucker Road, she set her coffee in the cup holder, turning to face me. “Okay, let’s hear it. What happened with darling Dinny? Don’t leave anything out.”

  “It’s too long to go into now, Loll. I’ll fill you in tonight. And remember, not a word to Katie.”

  “I was nearly poisoned by Amanda the Hun and now, no gossip? This lunch had better be good.”

  We parked the car and headed for the enormous white tent that had been erected in the quad. Halfway to our destination, Gerry Weinstein intercepted us. Freshly showered in a beige linen suit, he almost sparkled. No sign of the lovely Ms. Gold. “Ladies, we meet again. How goes the reunion? Having fun yet?” He had a dazzling smile and I wondered how many Whitley young women spent their time in chemistry class fantasizing about him.

  “We’ve barely begun.” My arm circled Lolly’s shoulder, standing my ground.

  “You know,” he said, eyes scanning us in a borderline inappropriate fashion, “the years have certainly favored you ladies.”

  Lolly beamed, flipping her hair back, adjusting her jacket front.

  “Where’s Wendy today?”

  He laughed, turning to me. “This is not exactly her thing.”

  “Hmm…” That was a big surprise. It wasn’t my thing either, but here I was, making the supreme sacrifice in the line of duty.

  “How long have you been at Whitley, Gerry?” Lolly actually batted her eyelashes.

  “Fourteen years and I’m ready for a change.”

  “Oh?” I would have liked to probe further, but a nudge from Lolly stopped further conversation.

  “There she is.” Lolly pointed to the crowd under the tent. “Gerry, we’re meeting our dear friend. Gotta go.” With that, she waved, steering us away.

  I nodded to Gerry before turning my attention forward to find Katie locked in conversation with none other than Aunt Muriel. The size of a small grizzly, Katie greeted us with bear hugs. “High time you two arrived. Look who I’ve got here. Mrs. Petty! Mr
s. Petty, do you remember these two? Lolly Pruit and Ricky Steele?”

  “Why Lolanda and Dorothy, how good of you to come.” Syrupy-sweet pleasantries from the mouth of a cobra.

  “Mrs. Petty, hello.” Lolly leaned forward, kissing the powdered cheek.

  Muriel looked apoplectic in the aftermath of Lolly’s display of affection, so I confined myself to a simple handshake. “Hello, so nice to be here. The campus looks wonderful.” I smiled, studying our hostess. Was it my imagination, or were her eyes pleading with me? A second later I looked again and the pale liquid eyes had glazed over, her expression inscrutable.

  Katie beamed. “Guess what, Rick? I’ve been asked to give a speech. Well, really just say a few words, you know, about our class.”

  Lolly and I exchanged looks.

  “Then we better get a good seat.” Lolly nodded to Muriel, pulling Katie toward a table by the podium. “We’ll save you a seat, okay Ricky?”

  As soon as my companions were out of earshot, Muriel turned to me. “Have you seen him?”

  “Who?”

  “You know very well who. Don’t play coy with me. I know you had breakfast together.”

  “That was hours ago.”

  “My point exactly.”

  “Mrs. Petty, I left Dinny at around ten. I have no idea where he went after that.”

  “Ten! How on earth could a breakfast take three hours?”

  I was getting annoyed. “You’ll have to ask Dinny about that,” I replied a trifle too coyly.

  Red blotches peeked through the layers of pancake makeup. “How dare you? I demand to know what’s going on!”

  “Listen, Mrs. Petty. You hired me to do a job and I—”

  “Mrs. Petty! Hello! Remember me! It’s Sally Cooper! How are you?” One of my least favorite former classmates stood shaking Muriel’s hand.

  “And who’s this?” Sally turned to me, staring.

  “Hi, Ricky Steele. Nice to see you, Sally.”

  “Why, Ricky, you look terrific. What happened to you?”