“The whole situation isn’t making sense,” Meg said. “And speaking of not making sense–”
“And we were.”
“I’ve heard of dissension in their ranks. They wrangle and fight among themselves, but then they go out drinking and partying and then everybody’s best friends again. My problem with them conspiring among themselves to do each other in is that they’d almost certainly have had to plan what they were doing. I don’t think they could organize any better than a first grader. They are not the brightest bunch.”
“They may be stupid, but they’re running things.”
Meg said, “Remember when they tried to organize a strike before negotiations even began last time? I’ve seldom heard of anything stupider. Gracie and Peter were at the heart of that. Remember that huge meeting they called?”
“And they were the only ones who showed up to the meeting. Even the other suckups weren’t willing to go along with that. But their lack of success at organizing didn’t stop Gracie and Peter.”
Meg said, “I heard they had buttons and fliers and banners and picket signs printed up and all set to go before the beginning of school, nearly a year ahead of time. Actually spent real money on it.”
“What I never understood about all of that,” I said, “was that if the suckups are total buddies with the administrators and the president of the school board–”
“And they seem to be.”
“–then why would any of them be part of organizing a strike which assumedly the school board and the administration would be against?”
“Maybe all of them wanted a strike.”
“But why? What does it gain any of them?”
Meg shook her head. “You’re right. It doesn’t make sense.” She sighed. “I don’t get the administrators.”
“Does anybody? One thing I don’t understand is why no one on the board stands up to Bochka. She’s queen bee of that board, sure, but this isn’t an absolute dictatorship, yet. Although I’ve seen them at meetings. They all seem to be best friends. Nobody dissents.”
Meg said, “I told you I heard that Bochka was supporting the suckups, invited them to her home for a holiday party?”
“She denied supporting them.”
“Well, she’d have to, but my source is unimpeachable.”
I seldom asked Meg for her sources. That could be delicate, and she was a good friend. She’d never steered me wrong.
“Can your source get more information about them?”
“I will try.” She shook her head. “How you maintain that neutrality between the two factions, I’ll never know.”
“Yeah, I hate the suckups and their stupidity, but I haven’t noticed the old guard making a great case for themselves.”
“They need a leader. Someone with sense and experience. You’d be my candidate.”
“I’ve got enough balancing rival factions in my life. Navigating the maze of politics in the gay community would keep an army of lab rats busy into eternity and beyond. With halfway decent leadership in the English department this wouldn’t be happening.”
“But it is. I did pick up some hot gossip in all the flurry of calls last night. It seems our administrators and more than one school board member are under investigation for fixing test scores and inflating graduation rates.”
This was hot new nonsensical educational crap brought about by the same people who thought killing other people’s children based on colossal lies was acceptable behavior. The ostensible reason for No Child Left Behind was to help children. The real goal was to destroy the educational system and ruin or dilute the power of the teachers’ unions. The mindless drones behind it wanted mobs of ticky-tacky drones to succeed them. What better way to do this but to institute endless testing that doesn’t test kids’ ability to think but their ability to memorize random bits of useless knowledge? Basic knowledge is important. Being able to be articulate and accurate about what you are thinking about is even more important. If you didn’t produce enough drones, some administrators resorted to cheating. Grover Cleveland High School was on the dreaded “watch list.” I had this vision of the watch list police coming to get administrators, taking them away in handcuffs to prisons where they would have no rights of habeas corpus.
I asked, “Is there proof?”
“Supposedly inspectors have been in. Notice Graniento and Spandrel have been around even less lately? Word is they’re attending meetings to cover up the problem, and/or do paperwork on the problem.”
“Who exactly is in on this?”
“I heard mentioned Graniento, Bochka, Towne, and Spandrel.”
“They could lose their jobs and their careers.” “Yep. I’ll try to get more for you.”
I said, “Speaking of gossip, are Mabel and Gracie lesbians?”
“It’s an odd question. Gracie always struck me as relentlessly heterosexual. She’s got pictures of her husband and kids all over her desk in her classroom. He is a hunk. I’m sure the success of his coffeeshop has a whole lot to do with him being out front and smiling from the minute they open.”
“You’ve been?”
“It’s pretty much on my way to work. I like coffee. I’m curious and nosy. I like to check things out. He was worth checking out. If I wasn’t a few paychecks short of retirement, I’d think about having an affair with him. I’d also have to be fifty years younger.”
“What about Mabel?”
“Her I’m not so sure. You know she’s married?”
“I guess I knew that. I’m not sure I ever cared before.”
“Her husband writes those science fiction novels, but for his day job, he’s some kind of fitness trainer. Supposedly he’s a partner in that big fitness club they just built on Route 30 in Frankfort.”
“Is he a stud, too?”
“I’ve never seen him. I think Mabel has kids, but they’re older. She never struck me as lesbian.”
“How about Gracie having an affair with a kid?”
“Nah. Gracie doesn’t strike me as the type.” Meg said, “That she only tutored boys isn’t odd. You only get the kids who sign up.”
“And supposedly Spandrel is the one who did the implying.”
“Meaning she’s turning on her friend?”
“That type would,” I said. “They have no morals and no sense of loyalty or decency.”
“You got that right,” Meg said, “but it just doesn’t make sense about her doing it with a kid. I mean, if she had several hundred males in there it might seem odd, or, I guess, having just one would be most suspicious, but it’s a program run by the school. Kids just sign up. They don’t know which teacher they’re going to get. If she threw out all the girls and only kept one or two boys at a time, that might be something else. The evidence of the sexual activity in that storeroom most likely came from the two darlings you discovered.”
“My guess is kids use the place, too. Hell, maybe other teachers do. Maybe everybody’s been humping away in there and once again, I’m the only one missing the action.”
“Well,” Meg said, “I wasn’t supposed to tell you, but…”
That elicited my first smile of a grim morning. I said, “I can’t believe Benson and Frecking were so stupid as to deny even being in there.”
“They must have left you and immediately started planning their version. It wasn’t a tough lie to tell. We were in this place instead of that place, and we were just talking. Doesn’t take much.”
I said, “I’ve seen some pretty stupid stuff in my years as union rep, but that’s right up there with the stupidest.”
“Did you really think the police believed them?”
“I couldn’t tell. Benson and Frecking’s story hung together. They weren’t in the hall when the police first arrived. They could have easily gotten to Benson’s classroom without being observed. It’s right across from the washroom they were using.”
“Why not use the classroom for their tryst?”
I said, “Too easy for a student to
walk in on them, like I did in the storeroom. A bathroom is a more traditional venue for gay men, or at least a cliché, but their choice to have sex anywhere in school is dumb. I suppose which venue they chose was subject to chance and their belief in how safe they were. That stupid storeroom door does creak. I’m just still really angry that they tried to dump it all on me. They told an out-and-out lie. I’m flabbergasted.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’ve got to find out who committed the murders. The cops were not nice.” “What can you do?”
“Talk to people, I guess. I have strict instructions from my attorney not to say a word more to the police without him being present.”
“Sensible advice. I’ll snoop around a bit. There’s got to be gossip. I could even indulge in the time-honored custom of sneaking around and listening in corridors.”
“You wouldn’t?”
“To catch a killer? Yeah. To find out what these people are up to? Yeah. Because I think these people are a danger to you? Yeah.”
“I’m certainly under suspicion.”
“Somebody’s lying and that’s got to stop, but there’s at least one killer on the loose and that’s more dangerous. We’ve got to find out who it is before they strike again.”
I said, “Even if it’s just another suckup that dies?”
I got a grim smile from her. “I wish it were that simple. You hate to think of the killer branching out to someone we like. And I’ll talk to Victoria Abbot, the assistant superintendent. I knew her mother, who was also a teacher. Maybe I can find out what she knows. Or at least get her to talk to you.”
16
The did-they-arrest-Mabel-Spandrel question was answered when I walked in the school door and saw her surrounded by a bevy of suckups including Milovec, Pinyon, and Looie the Loon. All traces were gone of the near-tears from the night before. Their voices murmured and then Spandrel’s laughter rang through the corridor. It sounded brittle and forced.
When I walked into the school’s main office that morning, Georgette Constantine, the school secretary, gave me a brief hug. “How are you holding up?” she asked. “Is there something I can do for you?” Georgette often presented a befuddled persona to the world. I’d long ago learned that behind the veneer of dim-wittedness was a smart, tough secretary who was an expert at every computer program used in the school district. She saved many a teacher at grading time.
“Thanks. I think I’m okay.”
She said, “It must have been awful.”
I said, “I still shudder when I think about them.”
She said, “I’m sorry. I won’t mention it again.”
“It’s okay. I don’t mind friends being concerned.” I leaned over the counter. She moved closer. I said, “I’ve got to find out more about Peter Higden and Gracie Eberson.”
She looked left, then right, then eased herself to the far end of the counter. I followed. Others in the office would be unable to overhear. She placed her elbows on the counter and leaned farther toward me. She said, “He was in this office day and night. That fake cheerfulness of his? What a pain in the ass. Some days I’d want to just slug him. And he always brought those plain, cheapo, crap doughnuts. Day-old, usually, and never chocolate-filled doughnuts.” Frankly, this last was a hanging offense as far as I was concerned. “Unfortunately, besides being an obsequious dolt, he often had some business in here. He always had to talk to an administrator. There was always some kid who was complaining about him or some faculty member who was after him or some parent who was unhappy. Did you know that one of the staff referred to him by using the n word?”
I said, “I would have heard if that teacher was fired. He or she should have been fired.”
“It was a scandal that no one is supposed to know about. Bochka was in here for hours. Some kind of deal was made.”
I said, “Why would Higden make a deal, and what on earth could he get?”
“For someone on the staff being a racist and using the n word in front of him, I bet Higden could get a great deal. It’s a big bargaining chip. What does he get in return for his silence? What’s the biggest thing a fourth-year teacher needs?”
“Tenure?”
She nodded. “So now he had tenure. We all know he was one of the worst teachers around here.”
I knew who “we” was. The secretaries in a school know everything, and if they don’t, the custodians do and are happy to spread the news.
Teachers in Illinois have four years of probation before they can be up for tenure. That fourth year was often fraught with tension. Higden had never brought any problems to me.
I said, “But he was one of the suckups. Why wouldn’t Mabel Spandrel have given him tenure?”
“Who was it you think used the n word?”
This got a genuine gape out of me.
“Spandrel? Really?”
She nodded.
I said, “But Higden was on her side in the fights.”
Georgette said, “I just report the facts. No one is supposed to know about the deal. Several people do. If it will help, feel free to use the knowledge, but please don’t say who you heard it from.”
I didn’t question her. She was a good friend and a help. I said, “Of course.” And I wouldn’t. I always keep faith.
She said, “I couldn’t stand Higden. None of us could, and while the administrators loved him, there were problems. No administrator is completely blind. I always assumed that’s why he was sucking up so much: to get tenure. Some of them go that route. At the very least, they try to keep a low profile. If I hear anything else about that, I’ll let you know.”
We leaned back and sipped our coffee. I know she waited every year at about this time for Starbucks to come out with its pumpkin spice latte. We glanced around the office. It was still early enough that the lights weren’t on and most of the staff wasn’t in. Nevertheless, I leaned toward her again and asked, “Were Mabel Spandrel and Gracie Eberson having an affair?”
“Possible.” She thought a few moments. “Not likely. They may have gone drinking to the same places together, but Portia sometimes went drinking with that crowd. She didn’t say a thing about it.”
Portia was one of the other secretaries. I asked, “Is Portia reliable?”
“As any of us. I’ll check with her for sure.” I said, “Do you know anything about administrators fixing grades?”
A look of relief flooded over her face. She said, “Finally.” I gave her a quizzical look.
“You know how those new computer programs are designed to bamboozle people?”
I nodded.
“I studied them. I figured them out.” She craned her neck around the office. No one was near us. She said, “No one, absolutely no one, is supposed to know this. The administrators have been at that program for months. They asked me once how to do something, but I chose to be my befuddled self.” She fluttered her hand against the gold chain around her neck. “Good thing. They tried to get Portia to show them things, but Portia actually doesn’t understand the program.” She leaned close enough so she could whisper in my ear. “They wanted her to change grades.”
“You’re sure?”
“Portia has no reason to make that up. What they don’t know is I can detail how and when people get into various programs in the office and even when they try to do it on the Internet from home. I also know where they keep the file of secret passwords.”
“Georgette, that’s dangerous.”
“Not to me.” Again she swiveled her head around. “How do you think the state got wind of something fishy going on in this district? These people have got to be brought down and brought down hard.”
“Georgette, I’ve never been more honored to know you.”
“Pah,” she said, “these people are insane. They can’t keep doing what they’re doing and not get caught. I caught ’em. I’m proud of it.”
“Do they know that?”
“Oh my, no. I’m very careful. No, the board and t
hose administrators have been after the secretaries, trying to cut our benefits, extend our workload. We’ve had to fight like the teachers have, although some of us haven’t been willing to fight. This way is perhaps more satisfying.”
“Is the scandal going to be made public?”
“If I have anything to say about it.”
“Who exactly does what?”
She looked around. Several of the other secretaries had come in.
I said, “Scott’s coming in for lunch with Meg and me. Would you like to join us for lunch?”
She nodded.
A crowd of teachers looking for schedules for the day trooped into the office. Georgette grabbed a stack and began passing them out. When they left, she handed me one. She said, “If you need anything, you know all you have to do is ask.”
I smiled at her. “I know. Thanks.”
17
As I stepped into the hall, a weeping Francine Peebles rushed up to me. She carried a jumbo box of tissues with her. Trust Francine to move from ineffective peacemaker to hysterical mourner.
“You found the bodies.” Her voice was just below a shriek. She grabbed tissues and wiped her face.
Milovec stomped up to me, “They should have called school off. Can’t the union do something about that?” Instead of a tapered white shirt and garish tie, he wore a white T-shirt with a pocket and his trademark tight black jeans.
Francine said, “The students, oh my, the students. We should call school off for a week. Will they ever recover?”
From the week off? Gracie’s and Peter’s death were sad and certainly students may have felt close to them. I didn’t see that as a reason for hysteria. I thought all the kids in both teachers’ classes should be talked to Monday by a social worker and the principal. Then any students who wished to talk to a counselor should be allowed to do so. But, just like you can’t vote against Santa Claus, you can’t argue with death-driven unreason. Just ask the Republicans. They’re masters at it.
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