Chapter 5
The Friday night football game between Holy Trinity and Riverside had been rescheduled for Saturday. There had been some talk earlier in the week that the game would be cancelled due to the tragic death of the coach. That didn’t last long. Practices were held even on Monday, the day of his death. Two of the assistant coaches, Russ Chandler and Doug Sanders, organized a team meeting that afternoon. The players decided that they wanted to play the game. They wanted to dedicate the game to their coach. Sister Ann had the final say.
Bishop was initially surprised at their decision. He wondered how much the assistant coaches had influenced the players and how much Sister Pat had influenced Sister Ann. When he mentioned his concern about the appropriateness of playing the game to Sister Ann, she got a little huffy.
“What’s wrong with playing the game? That’s how the kids want to honor their coach.”
Bishop wanted to comment on her sudden interest in what the kids wanted, but prudently kept quiet.
Sister added, “Both Russ and Doug called a number of times on Monday to express their sympathies and to offer their help in any way. Russ told me that Zappala had promised him the head coaching position when he decided to retire. Doug told me the same story.”
“What did you say?”
“I told them that I would have to think about it.”
Bishop had heard that line so many times over the years. It usually meant that she had already made up her mind, and she didn’t want to give you the bad news just yet. Bishop surmised that she had already made up her mind about Zappala’s replacement, just as she knew what she was getting when she had hired the coach. She was willing to tolerate his flaws for the sake of his proven expertise on the field. With either Russ or Doug, the new coach would be no different in that respect.
“Sister, you do realize that either Russ or Doug lied to you about what Zappala said, don’t you?”
“I guess it’s possible that one of them lied. It’s also possible that both of them lied and that neither had been promised the job by Zappala. It doesn’t surprise me. I know how desperately they both want this chance.”
“Sister, weren’t both of them finalists for the position when you hired Zappala?”
“Yes, they were.”
As Bishop left her office, the words of Sister Pat from a similar conversation that he had overheard were still fresh in his memory. “What right did that bastard Zappala have to tell either of those two guys who the next head coach would be? That’s up to you, not him!” For a Sister of The Holy Rosary, Sister Pat’s language in private wasn’t what one would expect.
On his way to his next class, Bishop came up with another possibility regarding the conflicting statements of the two assistants. Perhaps both of them were telling the truth. Zappala might have said whatever he needed to say to keep his assistant coaches happy. He needed them to do the drudge work during practices, in the training room, before and after games, and on scouting trips. Bishop thought of Iago’s response when he had been passed over by Othello for a promotion. “I follow him to serve my turn upon him.”
***
One benefit of playing the game was that it gave Bishop an occasion to forget about the events that had transpired in H. Andrew White’s office the previous day.
The game began late because of a brief tribute to Coach Zappala which Sister Ann had written herself. She mentioned nothing of his sizeable donation to the school. That announcement would wait for a more appropriate moment. Bishop sat with Ron Jennings, Steve Marshall, and some of the other guys in the midst of the largest crowd of the season. There hadn’t been any further talk of last week’s benching of Chris Delaney by the coach. That seemed such an insignificant issue in light of this week’s events. Still, Bishop wondered what Chris could have done to merit that treatment. Chris was widely admired by the staff and the student body. A gifted athlete and an excellent student, he was a polite young gentleman who didn’t let success change him. He was pulling a 90+ average in Bishop’s Advanced Placement English class. His essay on Moby Dick had been among the best in the class.
“Hi, guys. Mind if I sit here?”
Bishop was so lost in his thoughts about Chris Delaney that he hadn’t noticed Stephanie Harris approach. He was a bit startled that she wanted to sit with the guys rather the group of female teachers who had gathered in the next section of the bleachers. It was a rather mild October evening and she was wearing a turtleneck and jeans.
Ron quickly moved a little to his left to make some room between himself and Bishop. “Sure, Steph. Please sit down. I was hoping that I would see you tonight.” That was as good an understatement as any that Hemingway had ever written. Bishop wasn’t the first faculty member to take notice of Ron’s interest in Stephanie. Sarah Humphries was sure to start making comments about what might be going on between those two.
Bishop would be pleased if a romance blossomed between Ron and Stephanie. Ron was his closest friend on the staff. He had started at Holy Trinity shortly before Grace passed away. He had helped him get through the darkest days that had followed. Although neither was much of a cook, they had shared many meals together. Bishop learned that Ron had suffered his own loss several years earlier. He had been engaged to one of the phys ed teachers at the school where he had worked before joining the staff at Trinity. Paula Siracusa had even moved in with Ron. He had never been happier. A few months before the wedding, Paula unexpectedly called off the wedding. She had reconnected with a physician she had dated previously. Paula moved to Seattle and married the doctor a few months later. Ron never heard from her again. Robert Frost described a similar situation in his poem, “The Impulse.” The ties between a young married couple were broken suddenly and swiftly. If Stephanie were to fill that void in Ron’s life, no one would be happier for him than Bishop.
The group spent most of the game in the kind of small talk that made everyone relax. They stood for obligatory cheering when Trinity scored or made a nice play. Delaney scored three touchdowns and the game dedicated to Coach Zappala went into the record books with a W.
Earlier in the day, Ron told Bishop that he planned on asking Steph at halftime if she might like to go someplace for coffee after the game, but he didn’t get the chance. First, a couple of freshman boys came over to say hello to their French teacher. They stood there awkwardly for a moment and when their gawking became obvious, they quickly left, laughing and joking with each other. Then, several parents came over to chat about everything from the weather, to the week’s events, to the game. Just as Ron prepared himself to ask Stephanie if she would like to go with him to get a coffee, she turned to Bishop.
“Mike, would you like to meet me at the Bean Tree in about twenty minutes? I need your advice.”
Bishop desperately wanted just to get home, put on some classical music, and read before bed. However, that was out of the question if she needed his advice. He wondered what the problem might be but knew he would find out soon enough.
“The Bean Tree it is. See you there.”
Bishop read the disappointment on Ron’s face. He felt guilty that Ron’s plan had been thwarted. He told himself that Ron would have other opportunities to ask her out. Perhaps this had saved him from the embarrassment of having Stephanie decline his offer in front of the other teachers. Imagine what Sarah would have done with that tidbit!
***
When Bishop arrived at the Bean Tree, Stephanie was already seated in a booth with a cup of coffee and a half moon cookie on the table. “I hope you don’t mind that I already ordered.”
“Not at all,” he replied as he got the attention of the waitress. She was a heavy-set girl about eighteen years old. The uniform shirt and hat that all employees wore did nothing to enhance her appearance.
“What can I get for you?” she asked with a half-hearted smile.
Taking a quick glance at her nametag, Bishop said, “Amy, I’ll have a cup of hot tea. And those half moons look good. I’ll take one of those also
.”
They spent the next few minutes talking about the game and about how much paperwork they each had facing them that weekend. After Amy had brought him his tea and cookie, they spent the next few minutes more focused on eating than on talking.
When the cookies were gone, Amy came by with refills on their drinks. Stephanie looked into her coffee cup as if hoping to find the right words. At first she hesitated, then she said, “For what it’s worth, I want you to know how much I appreciate your friendship. You’ve helped me so much since I have been here at Trinity. Letting me observe your classes, answering my endless questions, offering your insights and wisdom. I don’t know how I could ever thank you.” She paused again and added, “I really owe you so much!”
“Nonsense,” replied Bishop. “Thank you for saying that, but I really haven’t done that much. Now, what’s this business about advice that you need?”
She put down her coffee cup and leaned a bit closer to him. “Well, it’s really nothing, I guess, but I thought I’d run it by you.”
“Go ahead.” Bishop had no idea what to expect, but after so many years in the teaching profession, there wasn’t much that any teacher or student could say to him that could surprise him any more.
“Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve noticed Sister Pat walking back and forth outside of my classroom and sometimes just standing near the door. The kids have noticed too. It’s getting on my nerves.”
“I have seen her out there myself, now that you mention it.” It would have been hard to miss her. She was just a few inches over five feet tall, and she was well north of two hundred pounds. Bishop knew the way Sister Pat operated. She was conducting some unofficial classroom observations. If Stephanie, as a first-year teacher, was having any problems, she wanted to know about it. If her intention had been to help Steph, Bishop might have given Sister Pat the benefit of the doubt regarding her tactics. However, he was fairly certain that there was nothing positive in her motivation. She was looking, perhaps hoping, to find problems. If she noticed that Stephanie had difficulty with classroom management or if she didn’t start class with a prayer, she would eagerly report that to the principal. Nothing made an insecure person feel better than to find flaws in others.
“Do you think that I should just close my door when I see her hovering around in the halls?”
“No, I wouldn’t do that. You would be admitting that her presence bothered you.”
“Then, what would you recommend?”
Bishop took a sip of his tea as he thought of a response. “Next time you notice her out there, go right out and invite her in.”
“Really?”
“That’s what I recommend. You would be showing her that you aren’t intimidated by her and that you’re confident in what you are doing in the classroom.”
“Do you think that she actually would come in?”
“I seriously doubt it. She’s not interested in sitting through a French lesson that she wouldn’t understand. She’ll find someone else to harass.”
“You’d think that she could find something more constructive to do with her time.”
That was a sentiment universally shared by the faculty. “Amen to that,” said Bishop emphatically. He was pleased to have earned this woman’s trust. She was quite a girl. He hoped that Ron Jennings would find another opportunity to ask her out soon. He thought that they would make a nice couple. Then he realized that he was beginning to sound like Sarah Humphries. One Sarah the Blabber was enough.
Chapter 6
Two weeks after the death of Coach Zappala, Trinity seemed to be getting back to normal. There was laughter in the halls, and the decibel level in the cafeteria during lunches was back to its typical, jet engine range. The football season was almost over. The boys had won both games under their interim coach, and they were headed for a playoff game. Who had asked whom to the Halloween dance was a major topic of discussion, not only among the students, but among most of the faculty as well.
Bishop had met with Attorney White a couple of times with questions regarding his role as executor. He still wondered why he had been selected for this thankless and time-consuming job, but he was determined to do the best that he could. He was also determined not to let any of this affect his teaching or his ability to devote the necessary time to the grading of his students’ essays. They deserved no less.
Planning to grade a few papers during his prep period, Bishop walked into the faculty break room. Just as he did, Sarah Humphries and Mary Nickerson broke off their conversation. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything, ladies,” he said as he took a seat at an empty table.
“No, no,” whispered Sarah. “You’re fine. We were just being careful. You know, some people around here are just big snoops and can never keep anything quiet.”
Bishop was tempted to explain the definition of the term, “irony,” but decided against it.
As the two women resumed their conversation, he pulled out a stack of essays. He wasn’t sure that he was going to be able to concentrate as it was impossible not to overhear what they were saying.
“Well, as soon as Terry had given the message to Sister Ann, she gave me a buzz,” Sarah explained to Mary. “Guess who wanted to talk to the principal?”
“How would I know?” replied Mary, obviously waiting for the answer.
“Lieutenant Hodge!” Terry made this dramatic announcement as if that explained everything.
Mary’s response was a clueless, “So?”
“So? What do you mean ‘so’? Don’t you get it? Hodge wouldn’t call unless something was up.”
“There could be lots of reasons to call,” explained Mary. “Maybe there was a party after the game and some kids got busted for underage drinking.”
Bishop was again tempted to insert himself into their conversation, perhaps by reminding them that Hodge’s phone call to Sister Ann was obviously none of their business. Doing so, he realized, would accomplish nothing except alienating himself from these two colleagues. Bishop hadn’t been at Trinity for over forty years without knowing that it was sometimes best to let things go.
Just then the chatter between Sarah and Mary went into silent mode again as another teacher entered the room.
“Does anyone know what’s going on here today?” asked Jack Slater, one of the school’s custodians. He was a short and thin man in his mid-fifties who had taken the job at Trinity after retiring from the city public works department. His rough hands told the story of a lifetime of hard, physical labor. He had a good pension, but after a few months at home, he found himself bored in retirement.
Sarah took the bait, and returned his question with one of her own. “What do you mean?”
Jack pulled up a chair and sat in it backwards so that he could fold his arms over the back. “They’re having a big powwow in Sister Ann’s office.” He went on to explain that the door was closed and that a curtain had been pulled over the window in the door.
“Who’s in there with her besides Sister Pat?” wondered Mary. It was a given that Sister Pat would be one of the participants in any high level meeting. No one had ever been able to figure out exactly why that was the case. She was living proof of the adage that those who can’t teach end up in administration. Although Bishop had known several good administrators over the years, they were the exception to the rule. Pat had an opinion on everything and rarely bothered to think before she shared that opinion with the world.
Jack had managed a peek inside the principal’s office from outside the building as he ostensibly picked up a few pieces of trash that the wind had conveniently blown in that direction. “Well, Hodge is in there for one.” That wasn’t a big surprise since they had learned from Terry that he had called that morning. In addition, a police car was parked illegally near the front entrance to the building.
“Who else?” asked Sarah as the possibilities of the nature of the meeting must have swirled in her head.
“I only got a chance for a quick look but Jennin
gs was in there.” No surprise there as he was part of the administrative team. “I’m pretty sure that the other guy I saw is Andy White.” That added a little fuel to the fire. White was Coach Zappala’s attorney, but he was also the school’s attorney.
“Maybe it has something to do with Zappala’s will. Maybe the school isn’t going to get that all that money after all,” said Mary without any basis for such speculation. A few days after the funeral, Sister Ann had sent an e-mail that made reference to Zappala’s “most generous” donation to the school.
Jack had saved the most interesting participant in the meeting for last. “And Sister Pascala was in there, too. And she didn’t look too happy, I’m sure of that.” To look at Sister Pascala, one would assume you were in the presence of a very holy person. She was a petite woman with a very plain face. She was one of the few nuns left who had kept the name she had taken when she entered the convent. She also continued to wear the old habit with its long, black, bulky skirts almost touching the floor, and an oversized rosary dangling from her waist. Looks are often deceiving, however, as they were in the case of Sister Pascala, who taught science. The kids knew her as an angry and bitter old woman whose age they often speculated to be in the 90s although, in fact, she was only a few years older than Bishop. Nothing her students did was ever good enough. She constantly berated and belittled them. Occasionally, she even resorted to slapping a student for which she always managed to escape a reprimand.
The prep period just about over, everyone headed out of the break room. Bishop hadn’t been able to get through even one essay. As he walked up to his classroom on the second floor, he was concerned about the nature of that meeting. Was it possible that a student or a parent finally had filed charges against Sister Pascala?
Outline for Murder Page 4
