Address to Die For

by Mary Feliz

  “Possibly,” agreed Stephen. “But suicide is an individualized business.” He tapped his ring against his coffee mug. “Let’s say Miss Harrier decided to end her life, but wanted to hide the fact that she’d committed suicide. She could have transferred the pills to another container. Or, the person Elaine saw running from the scene could have taken the bottle for any number of reasons.”

  “Why?” said Flora. “What would be the advantage of taking the bottle? It was a plain orange plastic pill bottle, I assume?” Flora chewed her lip and pulled at a lock of her hair.

  “That’s the type of bottle the police are looking for,” said Stephen. “As for a motive for taking it? Someone might have wanted to confuse the investigation.”

  Elaine leaned forward. “Someone who cared about her might have found her body and taken the bottle to protect her from scrutiny and public debate,” she said. “They could have thought that taking the bottle would make it look less like a suicide.”

  “It would be handy to find it in the pocket of the murderer,” I said. “After that, they could cut to a commercial, because stuff like that only happens on one of those crime dramas where they wrap everything up before the credits.”

  I looked at my watch. This process might be important, but it wasn’t getting us anywhere. No closer to finding out who killed Harrier, why she might have killed herself, or what else was wrong in Orchard View. I wanted those answers. I wanted to know what had happened to the foundation money and who was willing to put my family at risk to damage my home and the school. I was growing frustrated, but short of jumping up, waving my arms, and shouting “Round up the usual suspects,” I didn’t know what to do. If I’d known the names of any usual suspects, I might have been tempted. Instead, I took a sip of my coffee, grabbed another cookie, and tried to pay attention.

  “What about secrets?” Stephen said. “Could someone have a secret she’d threatened to expose? Could she have had a secret she was desperate to keep hidden?”

  Secrets. I leaned forward and looked surreptitiously around the room. Now we might be getting somewhere. Who knew what other secrets were hidden behind the tidy front yards and doors of this town?

  “She had access to a lot of confidential information,” April said. “She knew who qualified for free lunches and field-trip assistance, whose parents were out of a job, whose supposedly divorced husband was really in prison, which couples were separating or divorcing . . .”

  April paused and looked around the room. “Stress is a huge problem for kids and families, and mental-health issues push privacy buttons. We’ve had kids who were cutting themselves with razor blades, parents who were in rehab programs, kids with eating disorders, and a couple of students who were considering gender-reassignment surgery. Those kinds of things rock families at their foundations. You never know how far a parent will go to protect their child, do you?”

  Stephen fiddled with his ring. Flora smoothed her skirt. Elaine shifted in her rocking chair, and April brushed crumbs from her sweater. Pauline Windsor checked her phone. I wondered if we were all thinking about the pressures on our own families.

  “What about the vandalism at my house?” I said. “Could that be connected? Jason said it was likely the kid is violent and his behavior is escalating. Could someone that angry be capable of killing a person? Are there children you know of who have those kinds of issues?”

  Pauline made a tsking noise. “Vandalism again? We’ve got a plan to keep an eye on it at school, isn’t that enough? You can’t really expect us to solve your problem at home too.”

  As usual, Pauline’s words left me speechless. Tess sucked air in through her teeth, but Stephen quieted her with a look.

  “That brings up a good point,” Stephen said. “Where were the dog walkers who were supposed to be keeping an eye on the school? Pauline, do you have a list of who was scheduled for Sunday?”

  Pauline sat up straight, tapped her phone, and scrolled. “We had trouble finding people for Sunday,” she said. “Both the Giants and the Forty-niners were playing. It was Big Game weekend for Stanford and UC Berkeley. It was the final day of the Mountain View Art and Wine Festival, and move-in day for new students at a lot of the colleges.” Pauline frowned at each of us like a disappointed schoolmarm.

  “There were no volunteers last night,” she said.

  “But Pauline . . .” Elaine began.

  Stephen shushed her. “Pauline, let us know if there are any other holes in the schedule, and I’ll make sure we’ve got coverage. In the meantime, now we know there aren’t any volunteers who might have been on site and be able to provide information about what they saw Sunday night. That’s a big help.”

  I tuned Stephen out and looked around the room. Pauline knew there had been no volunteers on Sunday. Could she have taken advantage of that information and confronted Miss Harrier when no one could overhear? I knew how volatile Pauline could be over something as simple as a parking spot. Could something else have bothered her enough to drive her to murder? I didn’t know.

  I really didn’t know much about any of these people, and it was making me increasingly frustrated. In Stockton, which was a much larger community, I knew people in a wide variety of fields and it would have been easy for me to tap into expertise and experience that would have allowed me to figure this whole situation out much more easily.

  I was aware of Tess’s secret alter ego, yet that seemed like an open secret. And Stephen had revealed his past to me, a virtual stranger. But what about the others?

  The group broke up soon after that. We’d made no progress, or none that I could see. I looked at my watch. Ten o’clock. I had time to ask a few more questions and get to know these people better.

  I moved into the kitchen with Tess and Stephen after saying goodbye to Flora, who had to meet an administrator at her mother’s assisted-living facility. Pauline said she wanted to round up more volunteers to patrol the school. Stephen asked her to share the list with the police. April returned to work.

  As we’d done after the first meeting, Elaine, Tess, Stephen, and I washed, dried, and put away the dishes.

  “You know,” said Tess. “I didn’t want to mention it while Flora was here, but she has a secret she didn’t offer up. Her herbalism business? There’s a recurring rumor that says she grows marijuana and isn’t particular about who she sells to.”

  Stephen made a growling noise. “Does she sell to kids?”

  “Flora? I don’t think so . . . no, she wouldn’t do that,” Tess said. “Remember, I don’t know if the rumor is even true.”

  “As long as it doesn’t involve kids or big business or other drugs, the police aren’t that interested,” said Stephen. “They have bigger problems to tackle.”

  Elaine handed Stephen a saucer to dry. “What about April?” she said.

  “What about April?” I asked. As far as I was concerned, April could do no wrong. She’d said my son was a good kid.

  “She wanted Harrier’s job,” Elaine said.

  “What is her title now?” I asked. “Assistant principal?”

  Elaine nodded. “April was the logical choice for principal. She’d been teacher-in-charge and was experienced. When the district offered her the second-banana slot, I told her not to take it. They were taking advantage. She could run a major company single-handedly. But she wouldn’t listen. She’d helped interview all the candidates, so she’d met Susan Harrier and had Harrier’s number from day one. She wanted to provide a buffer between her and the rest of the school.”

  Okay, so that made sense. A buffer was exactly the role that April had played to help Brian and me work with Harrier. But financially? And career-wise? If April was qualified to be principal here, she could have found a better-paying job in another district. Was she waiting, hoping Harrier would move on? Had she grown impatient?

  These people were friendly and open up to a point, but they all could be hiding something.

  I looked at the coffee mug in my hand and wondered ho
w long I’d been drying it. I handed it to Tess to put in the cupboard over the counter.

  I picked up another mug from the drying rack. “Stephen,” I said, seizing the opportunity to ask a question that had been bugging me for a while. “How come you’re always on the spot when things go wrong, day or night? Do you have a police scanner, or do you have an alter ego like Batman or Underdog? How do you have the time for that and your day job?” I looked pointedly at the ring on his left hand. “Does your wife mind your odd hours?”

  Elaine stopped washing dishes and stared at me.

  Tess turned and looked at him.

  Stephen blushed.

  My face burned and I stammered, “I’m sorry. I’ve put my foot in something.”

  No one said a word, so I stumbled on. “I’m new and I don’t know the rules. Do you tell me what I’ve stepped in or do we move on and pretend I didn’t say anything?”

  Tess and Elaine looked at Stephen, who shrugged. He took the mug from my hand, finished drying it, and handed it to Tess to put away.

  “It’s not really a secret,” he said. “I’m surprised you don’t know. Jason and I were one of the first couples to be married when the Supreme Court made gay marriage legal in California. We’ve been together many years and I’m proud to be his husband. I think he feels the same way about me.”

  Yikes. I’d called him my fairy godmother. I held my hands against my face to cool the burn. I wanted to sink into the floor.

  Tess snorted. “I can’t believe you didn’t hear about it, even in Stockton. Jason and Stephen were the poster couple for the news outlets. A front-page picture of them went viral. Cop marries Marine, the headline read. The photo showed the two of them looking insanely happy, in love, and drop-dead gorgeous in their dress uniforms.”

  Elaine patted Stephen’s arm. “You’re one of the nicest couples I know.”

  Stephen smiled. “Like I said, it’s not a secret. It’s just awkward when folks jump to the conclusion that if you’re a guy and you’re married, your spouse is a woman.”

  “I try not to jump to conclusions,” I said. “Or put people in boxes based on stereotypes. I apologize, Stephen. I like both you and Jason and I hope I haven’t offended you. I’m sorry I called you my fairy godmother.”

  Tess snorted again. “You didn’t.”

  “I did.”

  “I loved that, Maggie,” Stephen said. “And it’s not your fault you assumed I was married to a woman. I’ve done the same thing to guys I don’t know. But look, it’s like this: You don’t walk up to people you barely know and say, ‘Hi, I’m Maggie, I’m married to a man.’ Right?”

  I nodded.

  “I don’t, either.”

  “Good point,” I said. “Friends?”

  “Friends,” Stephen said. “Now, do you want to help me set up some wireless cameras and see if we can catch your vandal? If we nab him, we can see if he’s connected in any way to Miss Harrier’s death.”

  “Did you get any useful information from this meeting, Stephen?” Elaine said.

  Stephen turned to me. I guess he felt the need to explain his role in the investigation.

  “My canine partner and I had police training in the Marine Corps, and our first assignment was with a law-enforcement unit. I’m an unpaid police consultant. I know when Jason’s called out, of course, and I provide victim support when I can. It’s an arrangement that wouldn’t work everywhere, but this is a small town and the chief’s on board with it. The other detectives call me sometimes too. That’s why I gave you the Batman impression, I guess.” His blue eyes twinkled. “I need to get a cape.”

  “I’ll make you one, if you want.” Elaine slapped Stephen’s leg with the end of her dish towel.

  “Your teddy bears and quilts are sufficient, Miss Elaine,” Stephen said with a slight bow.

  Tess explained. “Elaine makes patchwork quilts. Every patrol car has teddy bears and quilts in the back. When kids are in trouble, the officers pass them out and it comforts the kids.”

  I thought about how soothing a soft kid-sized quilt would be. A comforter, in every sense of the word.

  “I know you’ve got your hands full, Maggie,” Elaine said. “But if you’re interested in joining our guild or learning to quilt, let me know.”

  She turned back to Stephen. “So, don’t deflect. Do you think you got anything useful out of this meeting?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ll hand it off to Jason and see what he thinks. Keep an eye on the school for us, will you?”

  “As always,” Elaine said. “As always.”

  We said our goodbyes. I cringed when I thought about all the hints I’d seen and heard that pointed to Jason and Stephen’s close connection. Hints I hadn’t picked up on. Now that I knew, Stephen’s professional and emotional ties to the Orchard View Police Department and his commitment to its chief detective made perfect sense.

  I walked to the car. I was happy thinking about my growing group of friends and tried not to dwell on the death of Miss Harrier. Unless I could find the pill bottle or wrap up the case in a tidy little bow, there was little I could do for Miss Harrier right now.

  Chapter 18

  When a job seems infinite, a list can create a number of finite steps toward progress. Lists aren’t for everyone, but I’d be lost without them.

  From the Notebook of Maggie McDonald

  Simplicity Itself Organizing Services

  Monday, September 8, 11:30 a.m.

  I was in a good mood, feeling like a combination between Sherlock Holmes and Lara Croft. I hummed the James Bond theme song as I drove home.

  Stephen and I spent an hour putting up cameras at the front and back doors of the house. We installed four more to cover the barn. Stephen suggested I hire an electrician to install spotlights on the barn and the house to illuminate the yard. I didn’t really want our rural landscape lit up like a parking lot, but I told him I’d think about it.

  I had visions of a spruced-up front yard, with driveway lights that would make it easier to find our address and navigate the path to the house without tripping. In the back, though, I hoped we could keep it dark enough to see the Milky Way and teach the boys to identify constellations.

  Lights that we could flick on at any sign of trouble wouldn’t be bad, though. Even without vandals and violence and the death of Javier Hernandez, it was a little spooky not knowing what animals might be lurking in the yard when I let Belle out at night.

  Using computer magic I didn’t understand, Stephen showed me how to access the video feed for the surveillance cameras on my laptop and my phone. He refused my offer of lunch, but grabbed an apple from the bowl on the kitchen table and dashed off for an appointment with a veteran interested in working with one of the discharged Marine dogs.

  I set to work unpacking more boxes, glancing at the camera feeds every time I passed my computer. I didn’t expect the vandal to return in the daytime, but I wanted to get in the habit of checking on things.

  An alarm on my phone reminded me it was almost time for school to get out.

  David had a trumpet sectional for band after school, so I drove straight to the middle school.

  * * *

  “Mom,” Brian said, poking his head in the car window, “can we give Diego DeSoto a ride home? He lives just up the hill from us.” I agreed and Brian waved over a young boy, shorter than most of the other seventh-graders, with thick dark hair that hid his eyes.

  Diego kept his head down, but muttered “Thanks for the ride” when I invited him to hop in the car.

  “Do you want to borrow a phone to text your parents?” I said. “Will they know where you are?” Diego shook his head and looked out the window. I couldn’t tell whether he was shy, rude, tired, sick, or depressed. Something wasn’t quite right with this kid, but that was the case with most seventh-graders from time to time.

  “Mom,” Brian said, “we have to call Jason. I thought of something.”

  “What’s that, honey?” I said, barely listen
ing as I navigated the crowd of kids on foot, skateboards, and bicycles, all under the influence of after-school euphoria and hormones. My goal was to exit the parking lot without killing any of them.

  “I remembered something that was missing from Harrier’s office. Her iPad. Remember how she used to hit and slap it all the time? She was always taking pictures and writing notes. She never went anywhere without it. But it wasn’t in her office.”

  “Maybe the police took it?”

  “But what if they didn’t? What if it’s missing? What if she wrote something in there that the killer didn’t want anyone to know? Maybe that’s why she’s dead. To keep her quiet and destroy the evidence.”

  We were stopped in a long line at a stoplight, waiting our turn to cross Foothill Expressway. I looked at Brian, sitting on the edge of the backseat, quivering with excitement. Was this some sort of conspiracy theory he and his friends had cooked up at lunchtime to scare themselves silly? Or was his observation the key to breaking the case open?

  “Mom, we need to call Jason now. He needs to look for the iPad. That’s the key; I know it is. I figured it out during my math class. We had a test and I finished early. I was staring out the window and the teacher was entering grades in her iPad. That’s when I remembered. Harrier always carried hers with her.”

  If Brian was right, if Miss Harrier had been murdered and the iPad really was the key, it could be dangerous for him if the killer knew he’d figured it out. Diego knew, obviously, but I wondered if Brian had mentioned it to anyone else. It was definitely time to get the police involved.

  “Pick up my phone, Brian. Jason’s on speed dial. If you can’t reach him, leave a message and call Stephen. And when you’re done, make sure their numbers are in your phone. There are a couple more I want you to add later, just in case.”

  “Is this for real?” Diego said. “You really think this is for real?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “But it’s worth checking out.”