Murder Wears a Veil

by Maddie Cochere

  He snatched the bill from my hand. “I believe he does. She left with a woman.”

  “But was the woman really a man? Was he a crossdresser?”

  “Yep.”

  What was I supposed to do now? I couldn’t remember the name or address of Mabel’s bed and breakfast. I wouldn’t know how to tell a cab driver where to take me. I was angry as I hit speed dial number six.

  “What’s up, Sherlock?” Glenn answered cheerfully, even though he had surely been sleeping at this late hour.

  “I’m at a crossdresser’s club in Chicago, and Addie ditched me to go off with some man. I can’t remember how to get back to Mabel’s place. It was Gardner’s Bed and Breakfast, or Guardian’s Bed and Breakfast, or something that started with a G.”

  “Take a cab to a hotel and stay there for the night. If Addie doesn’t call you, just fly home in the morning.”

  “But my ticket and my clothes are back at Mabel’s.”

  The burly bouncer cleared his throat. He looked at me with eyebrows raised and held his hand out with fingers rubbing together. He wanted more money. He knew something.

  “What? What do you know?”

  He didn’t answer. He smiled, and I almost asked him how he liked having horse teeth. I was tired, cranky, and still a little drunk. It was difficult containing my thoughts.

  “I gave you my last twenty dollar bill. All I have left is Mr. Lincoln.”

  “Mr. Lincoln would have told you what you wanted to know before, so he’s good enough now.” He laughed and said loudly, “Gotta love the circus.”

  He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a piece of paper that had been folded over several times. As I opened it, a fifty-dollar bill fell to the ground.

  “Hey, there’s Mr. Grant,” the bouncer said with a smile. “I think everyone’s been to this party tonight except Mr. Washington.”

  I picked up the bill and looked at the note. With her fancy handwriting, Addie had provided the address to Garner’s Bed and Breakfast. A final comment at the end told me to be ready seven a.m. for airport.

  I punched the bouncer on the shoulder without much oomph behind it. “Why didn’t you give this to me when I first came out?”

  “You didn’t ask if she left anything for you, and everything costs something when you’re sittin’ in my chair.”

  I faintly heard Glenn and realized my phone was still in my hand, and he was still on the line.

  “Everything’s ok,” I said. “Addie left the address for me. I’ll be ok now.”

  After saying goodnight to Glenn, I found a dollar bill in the bottom of my bag. I handed it to the bouncer. “Here. Does this make you happy? How about getting me a cab?”

  He smiled and stood from his stool. He was one big man with some scary big teeth. “It does, little lady. It does.”

  He stepped to the curb and whistled.

  Daisy, her husband, and their friends came out onto the sidewalk. I had completely forgotten about them. Pete and Naomi weren’t with them.

  I apologized and explained that my friend had left, and as I had an early flight, I was going back to the inn. I did ask if Petula and his girlfriend were joining them.

  “They were parked out back, so they went out the back door. She was tired and wanted to go home.”

  Swell. Addie planned this trip so we could solve Natalie’s murder, but my only mission had been to talk to Pete Sinclair, and I had failed.

  I was only going to get a couple hours of sleep, and it was going to be a miserable trip home.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The bell rang. Doors opened. Students poured into the hall. It was lunchtime, and there were smiling faces all around.

  I glanced at my watch. Jackie was conducting a follow-up interview with Buxley school superintendant, Heather Wood.

  We were on our way to the Ramada Express out by the interstate to drop off extra decorations for Nancy’s bridal shower when Jackie’s editor called with the news of the interview providing she went right away. I wanted to wait in her car, but she insisted I come inside.

  “I’ll only be twenty minutes. You might as well be out of the sun and comfortable.”

  Ha! I wasn’t comfortable at all on the metal bench in the hallway, and I had already been waiting forty minutes.

  I felt as if all eyes were on me as teenagers passed by on their way to the cafeteria. The majority of the students were dressed well, but the number of crop tops worn by the girls surprised me. We could have never gotten away with wearing those when I was in school.

  The odor of something spicy wafted down the hall. My mouth watered. I remembered the food in the Buxley High School cafeteria being really good, and I hadn’t had anything to eat yet today.

  I tried to take my mind off eating by replacing thoughts of food with the events in Chicago. Addie and I didn’t talk much on the flight home. She knew I was angry she had ditched me at the club. She assured me she knew the man who picked her up, and they had prearranged the meeting ahead of time. I didn’t care. She should have told me instead of leaving me to flap in the wind like a boat without a rudder - or something to that effect.

  Addie was convinced more than ever that Pete killed his wife. The new motive was that he wanted to be with her sister, Naomi. I reluctantly agreed with her. Something still didn’t feel right about the conclusion, but even I could see there was no other explanation. That Pete was a crossdresser made his wearing a bridal gown when he killed Natalie much more believable.

  I stood and paced back and forth in front of the bench. There was something about Pete’s demeanor when Glenn and I met with him in Hawaii. I was convinced he didn’t know Natalie was dead at the time. On the other hand, he had stage experience. Maybe he was a good actor.

  I walked down the hallway and peeked through the cafeteria door. A student sat just inside the doorway at a table with a small cash register.

  “Are you having lunch?” she asked.

  “I’m waiting for someone who’s seeing the superintendant. Do you think it would be ok if I had a bite to eat?”

  “Sure,” she said cheerfully. “Lunch is two dollars and sixty cents.”

  I opened my bag, but I had given the last of my cash to Mr. Burly Bald Bouncer last night.

  “Never mind,” I said. “I don’t seem to have any cash on me.”

  She picked up a cell phone with a swipe device attached to the top. “That’s ok. We take credit cards.”

  I felt old. I didn’t know anyone who had a credit card when I was in high school.

  I grabbed a tray and checked the express lunch first. The only option was macaroni and cheese with a dinner roll, and the entire mess looked thick and dry. I moved over to the regular lunch line. A lone student stood behind the counter to assist in my selection.

  The choices were disgusting. Instead of a regular slice of pizza, there was teriyaki pizza. The student assured me it was tasty. Instead of the mashed potatoes and meatloaf I remembered, there were crispy chicken sandwiches that looked leftover from last week. Instead of a fresh garden salad, there was a cold bean salad soaking in strong vinegar liquid. I knew this because I could smell the vinegar. And what happened to the brownies and apple crisp? There wasn’t anything sweet in sight. At the end of the line was a huge basket that had held dinner rolls. There were just a few left.

  I decided on a slice of pizza. The student plopped one on a paper plate and slid it onto my tray. I turned around and looked for a place to sit.

  The room was nearly full. The popular kids were obvious. Several of the girls were whispering and giggling while looking my way.

  One table had two extra seats. The students sitting there looked like nerds. I approached them with caution.

  “Do you mind if I sit here for a few minutes while I eat this unbelievably nutritious school lunch consisting of one slice of pizza?”

  A girl with wild, curly hair and red glasses smiled. “Sure. Have a seat.”

  “Thanks,” I said and sat down. “I’m w
aiting for someone who’s in a meeting with the superintendant.” I took a bite of the pizza. It was dry and chewy. “I remember the food being good when I used to come here. How do you eat this stuff?”

  “We don’t,” the boy next to her said.

  I looked around the table and noticed all of them had a bagged lunch. They were all also wearing glasses. Maybe contacts weren’t so popular anymore.

  “Do you have a job?” one of the boys asked.

  I nodded. “I’m a private investigator.”

  “Really?” the girl with the curly hair asked. “Are you here to investigate Miss Wood?”

  “No. I’m not involved in her case, but my friend is a reporter, and she’s interviewing her right now.”

  The pudgy boy sitting next to me said in a hushed tone but loud enough for me to hear above the din, “She’s innocent. Wes Bing put all that stuff online and spread the rumors that it was Miss Wood.”

  I frowned. “How do you know?”

  “I want to be a journalist myself. Specifically a foreign correspondent. War will be my specialty.” He paused, and I wondered if he was picturing himself on the battlefield, writing his report as the action took place around him. He snapped out of his momentary daydream to say, “I pay attention, and I’m a good eavesdropper. When I’m done eating, I spend some time in the restroom. No one knows I’m in there, and I can listen in on conversations.”

  I took another bite of the pizza. It was sort of growing on me and not so gross now. “You heard something about the superintendant?” I asked.

  “Yeah. It was a little over a month ago. Wes was talking to someone, but I don’t know who. He was telling the guy that the porn was downloaded, and he had the password to pass out to the guys.”

  “Maybe Superintendant Wood downloaded the pornography and gave the password to Wes. Isn’t that what she’s accused of?” I asked.

  “Yes, but Wes said he was the one who did it the night before. He also said he paid a guy from the comic book shop to hack into the school’s system. That’s how everything was downloaded and some of the grades were fixed.”

  The girl with the curly hair spoke up again. “Wes is the captain of the football team. He’s not used to not getting his way. I heard he made a pass at Miss Wood, and when she told him no, he didn’t like it. This is his revenge.”

  “Why don’t you tell someone?” I asked. “You can’t just stand by and let an innocent woman lose her job and maybe go to jail.”

  A small, mousey girl on the other side of the curly-haired girl leaned closer to me and said, “Because no one would believe us. First of all, we’re all in the band, and that dismisses us right off the bat, but there’s a bigger reason.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Wes is the football coach’s son, and no one messes with that family.”

  “Yeah,” one of the boys farther down the table said. “Wes gets away with anything he wants, and no one ever questions the Bings. His dad had it covered up when Wes and his friends stole a car and went joyriding. He wasn’t even charged.”

  I had a feeling they were right. The football coach had brought in several regional championships in a row, and the town adored him. The residents of Buxley wouldn’t want to believe his son could do something so cruel to the superintendant, and I suspected Coach Bing would have everything swept under the rug before it ever made the light of day.

  “Would any of you be willing to talk with my friend? She’s a reporter for the Buxley Beacon. Maybe she can get to the bottom of this.”

  I could see hesitation in all of their eyes. A small, timid-looking boy at the end of the table said, “We’re all vying for college scholarships. It wouldn’t be prudent for us to talk with a reporter at this time.”

  The boy sitting across from me suddenly had a look on his face like he’d seen a ghost. I followed his gaze and saw Jackie had come into the room. The boy’s look wasn’t one of fright; it was one of awe.

  One of the other boys let out a low whistle and said, “Wow.”

  Heads began turning at all tables. The popular girls donned frowns, and the guys may as well have been drooling.

  As usual, Jackie looked amazing in a tight black dress. She and Matt were headed to Patterson Plaza after work for dinner with several of Matt’s clients, and she was already dressed for the occasion. She had brushed her thick red hair so it swept forward, nearly covering her left eye and cascading in waves well below her left shoulder. I waved her over to our table.

  The boy across from me asked, “Do you know her?” He appeared flustered she was headed in our direction.

  “That’s Jackie Ryder. She’s the reporter for the Buxley Beacon.”

  The timid boy at the end of the table said, “I changed my mind. I’ll talk to her.”

  “Me, too,” said another.

  Jackie’s smile disarmed the boys even more. “How did you wind up here?” she asked me. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  “You took forever, and I was hungry. These nice students let me sit with them, and you need to talk to them, especially him.” I clapped the boy beside me on the back.

  “I have what I need,” Jackie said. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to talk with students without permission from their parents.”

  “Nonsense,” I said. I stopped for a second. I’d never used the word nonsense in that context before. That blasted Addie! She had even wormed her way into my speech patterns. “Isn’t it freedom of the press, free speech, or whatever other code you live by?”

  “Yes, but it’s not something I personally want to do.”

  “But he’s an ear-witness to what really happened with Heather.”

  “Yeah,” the boy said. “I heard everything when I was hiding in a stall in the boy’s restroom.”

  Jackie took a pen and notebook from her purse. “Write down your name and phone number. If I need anything, I’ll check with your parents, and we can arrange a meeting.”

  He was quick to grab the notebook, jot his information down, and pass the book on to the other boys at the table.

  A tall, clean-cut boy with good looks walked up to Jackie and held out his hand for a shake. “Hi. I’m Wes Bing. My dad’s the football coach here. If there’s anything you need, I’d be happy to help.”

  “Thank you,” Jackie said with a dazzling smile, “but I’m good.”

  A girl from the popular table rushed over and grabbed Wes by the arm. “We’re going to be late for chemistry. Are you coming?”

  I couldn’t help smiling at the entire situation. This was something that belonged on television. If this was Wes’ girlfriend, he was going to get an earful later.

  A dinner roll sailed across the room and hit Wes in the back of the head. He swung around just as another roll hit him in the face. The crust edge from a piece of pizza hit his girlfriend in the chest.

  Before Jackie and I had barely made a run for it, a food fight was in full force. Where was the supervision in this room? Dinner rolls pummeled my back and something harder hit the back of my head. Why was I a target?

  We made it into the hallway where we saw three male teachers running toward us and, presumably, the cafeteria. Jackie slipped her notebook into her purse and went through the motions of brushing off the front of her dress, but she didn’t have a speck of food on her.

  She laughed. “It’s been ages since I’ve seen a food fight. Those kids had good aim. Do you think that’s a common occurrence?”

  I attempted to brush off my back. “No, I don’t think it’s a common occurrence. If it was, there would have been teachers stationed in there, and they probably wouldn’t have let me in to eat in the first place.” I turned around. “Do I have food on my back?”

  “Not really, but you do have a little … uhm … I think it’s chicken … in your hair.”

  “Swell.” I flicked at my hair until what looked like a quarter-sized piece of teriyaki chicken from a slice of pizza fell to the floor.

  “Come on,” she
said. “Let’s get out of here. I’ll drop you at the hotel and then I have to get back to the office. I need to talk with Harry about this story.”

  Harry Elsberry was the editor for the Buxley Beacon. He pretty much let Jackie do and write whatever she wanted. I was surprised to hear her say she wanted to talk with him about the story.

  On the way to the hotel, I filled Jackie in on what the kids had told me.

  “I know,” she said. “There’s been a lot of talk amongst the students, and the story finally got back to Heather. She went to the school board with the information, and they want to throw her under the bus.”

  “What do you mean? They want her to take the fall for what Wes did? That’s horrible. That’s not fair. We have to do something.” My voice was louder with every word.

  She half laughed and put a hand up to stop me. “No. They aren’t asking her to take a fall. They simply want it all to go away as if it never happened. They don’t want any publicity, and they’re afraid if they go public with the truth, Coach Bing will resign and move out of the area. She and the board have talked with the coach, and he’s assured them he’ll discipline Wes, and something like this will never happen again. Wes is potentially looking at several football scholarships to choose from, and the coach doesn’t want his son’s future ruined for a youthful indiscretion.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Youthful indiscretion my butt. This isn’t right. There was pornography involved, and accusations of a woman having sex with a minor. How does she come back from that? Everyone in the community thinks she did it.”

  “That’s what I want to discuss with Harry. The board’s solution is to print a story stating the charges against Heather were false, and the hacking came from an outside source, because, in essence, it did. The employee at the comic book store helped Wes with everything.”

  “Why don’t they charge that guy?”

  “If they do, he’ll go public with the truth. I’m not entirely certain, but I think Coach Bing will be giving that young man some cash to leave the city. Heather thinks he’s not originally from here and would be happy to leave.”