Schooled in Murder

by Zubro, Mark Richard

  “Smart,” I said. “The killer was planning. No traces on his or her own car if Higden’s is used. But using his car brings up several more questions. How’d the person get in the car? If Higden was in the car, how’d the killer get him out of the car and in a position to be run over?”

  “Those are the right questions,” Rohde said. “He was run over twice. The first time, they got his legs. He was still alive when they got his upper chest and neck.”

  “My god, that’s awful,” Scott said.

  “Hell of a way to die,” Rohde said. “But none of it gives us much of a clue to who did it. We’ve got lots of possibilities. Everybody here had a good laugh at the descriptions of the fights within the English department. Are these really adults? Teachers? What kind of idiot administrators are these that countenance that kind of shit?”

  I said, “It takes a special brand of stupidity. If I weren’t living it, I wouldn’t believe it.”

  Scott asked, “When did Peter die?”

  “Not long before you found him is all I know. Nobody saw Higden after he was questioned–or at least, if anybody saw him, they aren’t admitting it. So far, Gault and Vulmea are the last ones who admit to seeing him alive.”

  I said, “I don’t think Gault and Vulmea killed him.”

  “They’ve got alibis,” Frank said. “They were questioning everybody.”

  Scott asked, “Is Tom off the hook?”

  Frank said, “Yes. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be very careful. We found some interesting things when we searched their homes. Mrs. Eberson had an office in her home. The screensaver on her computer was a picture of Ann Coulter with quotes from her speeches superimposed along the edges.”

  I said, “That homophobic, right-wing, Nazi bitch.”

  “Eberson or Coulter?” Rohde asked.

  “Both,” I said.

  Rohde said, “One of the quotes said that she was just trying to be funny and outrageous.”

  Scott said, “That has to be one of the most moronic and insensitive things anyone has ever said. That woman shows nothing but stupidity and ignorance every time she opens her mouth.”

  Rohde said, “Eberson obviously revered her.”

  I said, “That is sick shit.”

  Scott said, “These people hated you. This is all about you. These people are all homophobic pigs. Someone is trying to pin the murders on you. They lied about where you were. I’m afraid for you. Maybe you shouldn’t go back there.”

  I said, “It’s their faction that’s dead.”

  Scott said, “But it’s you they hate.”

  I asked, “Is there really a sexual angle to this?”

  “Gault and Vulmea think so,” Frank said. “We’ve got rumors and denials from several sources. Higden isn’t married and as far as we can find out was not dating anyone. He lived in one of those condos just south of the Loop in Chicago. You know, the new places. According to Gault, the parents didn’t seem to have a clue about their kid’s life. He didn’t have brothers or sisters. They didn’t know of anyone he was dating seriously. Eberson’s husband seemed genuinely confused and upset when they suggested the possibility that his wife was unfaithful. He claimed their sex life was fine and that his wife would never cheat. You told me one of the teachers confirmed that she was having an affair. Gault and Vulmea will have to check again.”

  I said, “Some teachers were worried about being safe in school. I assume they are also worried about the kids being safe. We do have two unsolved murders.”

  “You know, it’s odd. The administrators didn’t call us about that. We had to call them. We had reporters asking us questions about safety. We’re going to have a police presence at the school. Only one entrance is going to be available for the kids, one for the teachers. At the beginning and end of the school day there will be cops at all exits and entrances. Cops will be patrolling the halls. It’s a volatile situation.”

  I asked, “Did the administrators say why they didn’t call?”

  “They said they were trying to avoid publicity.”

  “Avoid publicity?” Scott said. “Are they out of their fucking minds? Publicity? They’ve had two murders.”

  Rohde said, “You’re not going to get an argument on that from me.”

  Scott asked, “Are the police planning to tell the administration about Benson and Frecking trysting in the closet?”

  “I’m not sure what Gault and Vulmea told them. As far as I can tell, what they were doing has nothing to do with the murder.”

  I said, “I can’t imagine they did it. Who can make love after doing something like that? They lied about me, though–doesn’t that make them more suspect?”

  “But Gault isn’t totally convinced yet that they’re lying and you’re not. It’s complicated. They’ve found more evidence of sexual activity.”

  “There were more people in that storage closet?”

  “I don’t know yet. Right now they’re checking to see if it’s old or new residue. Also, Peter Higden had fresh semen stains in his underwear.”

  “I’m finding this hard to believe. They don’t need to get hotel rooms, they could just rent out a wing of the school.”

  Rohde said, “I’ve seen some killers do some pretty insane things. But Benson and Frecking didn’t strike Gault and Vulmea as killers. From what they said and from your description, I agree.”

  “Would their lying implicate them in a larger conspiracy?” Scott asked.

  I shook my head. “It marks them as desperate and not too bright, but I’m not sure they’d be in on it with the administrators. Maybe.”

  Rohde said, “Gault is an honest, hard-working cop. I’ve talked to him and his partner a couple times. Vulmea doesn’t like you.”

  “I don’t like him either.”

  “Neither do I, but Gault is a good cop.”

  As we got ready to leave, we thanked him. He said, “I’ll say it again: be very wary, very careful.”

  35

  We headed back to Chicago. As we drove, we talked. I said, “I have no idea what to do. I am completely stumped. Abbot is frightened out of her mind.”

  “You’re not going to say anything to the other administrators?”

  “I gave her my word, and I’m not sure how much good it would do anyway. If they know I’m onto their conspiracy, it could drive them to more desperate measures or further underground. If I can keep getting information from Abbot while they think I don’t know, that might be best.”

  Scott said, “If one, some, or all of them are killers, then Abbot could be in danger if you told.”

  I said, “I think every person at that school is in danger while that administration has anything to do with running the place.”

  He said, “You could just quit. You don’t have to work.”

  We’d had this discussion numerous times. Yes, he’s got plenty of money and high school teachers in Illinois don’t make bad money. I wouldn’t have to give up eating chocolate if I quit. But early in our relationship I’d sworn to myself I would never live off Scott and his fame. I have my pride, and he seldom pushed it. At the moment he was trying to give me an alternative to a horrible situation.

  I said, “I’m not going to quit. Leaving would be an admission of guilt. It would cede the field to them. I’m frightened, and I’m angry. I want to beat those motherfuckers. I want them to suffer and be miserable.”

  “Tom, I’m worried for you. They can push any number of your buttons. You need to stay calm at all times.”

  “I’ll be careful.”

  “Maybe you should have a security guard.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Don’t be alone with them. You need a witness or a lawyer or somebody. Remember what Todd Bristol said about having an escort in the building.”

  “I’ll talk with Teresa Merton tonight.”

  When I got home, I called Merton and told her the whole story leaving out only the name I’d promised to keep secret. She said, “I know you will anyway, but I
urge you not to worry. You’ve done nothing wrong. I’ll contact the union legal service first thing in the morning about all the issues. It’s time we brought the cheating on statistics to a head.”

  I said, “I’ll do whatever I can to help with that.”

  She added, “Brandon Benson called. He doesn’t want you as his rep.” She gave a comfortable laugh, then said, “I hope that son of a bitch is squirming and miserable every step of the way as you represent him. Traitors don’t get to pick who talks for them or who represents them.”

  I said, “Thanks.”

  “No need to thank me,” she said. “I’m doing what’s right. Those who feel they are above the rules don’t get to dictate to the rest of us our behavior or our reactions to their behavior.

  We don’t have to cower in the presence of the assholes in the universe, and in this case Brandon Benson is one of the sillier.”

  I said, “The administration might not find out about them being in the room.”

  “And sometimes the assholes get lucky. You might encourage him to quit before they get a chance to find out.”

  “I already did.”

  She said, “That’s why I like you as building rep. You think of the basics and tell them honestly. Thanks.”

  I told her about the suggestion that I have some kind of escort in the building.

  She said, “I’ll work out a schedule. You’ve got Morgan Adair in that third-floor corridor with you. Set something up with him, and then we’ll cover for any other times.”

  I called Morgan. He readily agreed. “Should we all be scared?” he asked.

  “They are frightening people.”

  “Got that right. I’ve given up on Frecking. I’m never going to date someone I work with again.” I thought this was a sane notion.

  Scott and I worked out, took showers, then sat on a mound of pillows in front of the fireplace.

  Scott said, “I desperately want to say everything is going to be okay. I know I have no control over that.”

  “These people are dangerous and vicious. They’re out of control. I think they would try anything. They would tell any lie. It’s like watching people having a tantrum and not being able to stop them. And all that leaves out the fact that two people have been murdered.”

  “These people have tried to pin everything on you. They’ve failed.”

  “Not from lack of trying.”

  Scott said, “You’ve got good people in your corner making plans and giving support.”

  “You’re the most important one.”

  He put his arms around me, and I leaned my head back onto his shoulder.

  He said, “You know I’ll do anything.”

  “I know. I wish I could count on the assistant superintendent taking a stand.”

  “You and I will stand together, no matter what it takes.”

  I took great comfort in his arms that night.

  36

  Monday morning I felt a little better, but I was still tired from lack of sleep. I arrived at school about an hour early. On normal days I did that to be able to grade papers left over from the days before (a perennial problem), to make sure all my technology requirements for the day were set (any sensible teacher always assumes the technology in his classroom will break down), to double check the plans for the slow kids (if they didn’t have enough to do they could get restless; if they had too much to do they could get restless), and finally to sit, sip coffee, and think (sanity check).

  Georgette Constantine met me at the teachers’ entrance. She motioned me into a nearby janitor’s closet. She was shaking. Her eyes held mine as she said, “Amando Graniento told me to keep you busy. He is down in your classroom. Spying. Sabotaging. I don’t know what all. It can’t be good.”

  “I won’t tell him I saw you.”

  “You can tell him I met you with bagpipes and a brass band and escorted you to your classroom. Don’t worry about me.” She took out her cell phone. “You’ll need a witness. Call me now, and leave your phone in your pocket.

  When Teresa Merton and Meg come in, I’ll send them down to your room.”

  I said, “You think of everything.”

  She said, “This is murder, and we all need to take precautions.”

  I thanked her. As I hurried toward my classroom, I repeated to myself my pledges about remaining calm. I was angry. Were these coordinated attacks? Maybe. I wondered if Graniento’s presence represented the second team. I’d had a confrontation with Spandrel and Bochka–was it going to be Graniento’s turn?

  The building was mostly quiet. I nodded to the few other early teachers. Through the window in my classroom door, I could see that the computer monitor light was on. I paused at the doorway. I took deep breaths until I was under control. I took out my cell phone and checked to make sure it was on. I put it in my shirt pocket and pulled my jacket tighter to cover it.

  Graniento sat at my desk. He was going through the drawers. Every few moments he’d tap several computer keys, then go back to searching. Occasionally, he added a piece of paper to a pile in the middle of the desk. I’d left no such pile last Friday. I thrust the door open and strode in. I made sure the door didn’t shut all the way.

  Graniento jumped about a foot. I loved the simple-minded gape on his face.

  “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

  I said, “I work here.” I laughed. Really. I felt a little of the tension drain away. If he was that stupid, how much of a threat could he be? A lot, I warned myself.

  I walked up to the desk and around to the side that he was on. As I moved, I got a continuous glare. I looked at the monitor. He tried to reach to turn it off. I grabbed the keyboard and moved it out of his reach. “The bigger questions are, what are you doing here, and why would you be at my computer?”

  “We have a right to look at how you’ve been using the Internet.”

  “Do you?” I tapped several keys. “And here’s the recent history. Let’s see, for the past ten minutes someone has been attempting to access pornographic Internet sites on this computer.”

  “You’ve been doing that.”

  “Too sad for you, Tiger Lily. Georgette met me at the door. She knows you were here and what time you left your office to come in.”

  “Georgette will be fired.”

  “She’s got a union, and she’s got protections, just like I do.”

  “You can’t prove I did that. You probably have it set on a timer.”

  I laughed. I said, “Good try on getting into the pornographic sites. I, however, let the students in my classroom use this, and I’ve got the most sophisticated blocks and firewalls possible on this computer. Weren’t you beginning to wonder why you couldn’t get to any site?”

  He stood up and moved around to the other side of the desk. He was wearing the most godawful combination of a brown suit, a green tie, and an orange shirt. The colors may have been supposed to suggest autumn but looked more like someone had ingested a Hawaiian flowered shirt and puked it up.

  I sat down. I picked up the papers he’d placed in the middle of the desk.

  “Let’s see what you’ve been looking through, or perhaps trying to plant.”

  “I can look through your things.”

  “What were you expecting to find here?” I asked. “A secret stash? You could have brought drugs to plant, but then you’d have to bring them to school yourself.” I checked each drawer. Only the one on the top left seemed to have been disturbed. I said, “In here you would have found my lesson plan printouts, copies of my notes to parents, and copies of weekly progress notes on each of the kids with learning disabilities.”

  I kept separate files on each kid and made daily notes on significant progress or problems, as well as a record of discussions with parents or LD teachers. These included times and dates for everything.

  “Why are you here?” I asked.

  “I can be here.”

  “At the moment, I’m not disputing that. I asked why?”

&nbs
p; “Looking for clues to solving the murder.”

  “Really, in my desk? How odd. Did you expect to find a smoking eraser? Or perhaps an extra automobile?”

  “I don’t answer to you.”

  “But what you’ve done is suspicious.”

  “You’re the one who’s the problem,” he said. He put his fists on the edge of my desk and leaned toward me. “You’re the one who can’t get along with people. You’re the one who causes trouble. You’re the one who stops anything from happening in this department.”

  I said, “I rarely say a word at departmental meetings, which you don’t attend.”

  “I get reports.”

  “Do you? And you’ve done what to solve the problems?”

  “I know all about you. You ignore all the directives.”

  “Name a time and date when I have not complied with every single one of your memos, e-mails, commands, and directives. Produce a scintilla of evidence.”

  “I don’t have it with me.”

  “You don’t have it at all. Unless you plan to make it up. How would you do that? You couldn’t have a witness. You don’t attend our meetings. Even the superintendent never attends meetings. Until last Thursday, he’d never been to my classroom. Bochka hadn’t either. Until then, I’d never met with you and any combination of them together.”

  “They will vouch for me.”

  “They who? And vouch for what?”

  “Everyone. All the trouble you cause.”

  “And what trouble would that be? Try to be specific.”

  He leaned back and crossed his arms across his chest. “You know what I’m talking about.”

  I said, “Nope. Not a clue.”

  He said, “You’re always defending the teachers.”

  I said, “Yes, that’s what a union representative does.”

  “Even when they’re wrong.”

  “Right or wrong, they’re entitled to representation. When they’ve done something wrong in the past, I’ve worked with administrators to try and help them improve their teaching, or to get them to stop doing what they weren’t supposed to be doing. You’re the ones who felt the need to be autocratic and bid and command. I was willing to work with you. You’re the one that wanted to run roughshod over the union.”