by Diane Weiner
Murder in the Middle
(A Susan Wiles Schoolhouse Mystery)
by
Diane Weiner
This book is dedicated to my husband Robert for listening to endless drafts of my work, sitting through critique groups, proofreading, and being my biggest fan. He truly is the wind beneath my wings.
Chapter 1
Susan Wiles poured herself a second cup of coffee and went back to work on the crossword puzzle. That was one of the perks of being retired. She didn’t have to rush in the mornings. The days stretched out like endless ribbons of taffy. Knitting, scrapbooking, and vegan cooking hadn’t captured her interest like she’d imagined back when she was still teaching. She opened the blinds to let in the light, but in the midst of a Hudson Valley winter, the sun came out late and lazily, if at all.
The sound of her cellphone startled her. Who would be calling this early? It was Principal Antonio Petrocelli, her friend and former colleague, begging her to come down to his school––immediately. It was urgent.
“Antonio, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? Did something happen at school?”
“I need your help but I can’t talk about it over the phone. Just hurry.”
What could be wrong? The last help she gave Antonio was when she’d cleared him as a murder suspect. That was before he became a principal. Is that the kind of help he needed?
Susan rushed through the doors of Westbrook Middle School. When she got inside, her heart beating like a metronome set to presto, she heard the sound of muffled voices in the bookkeeper’s office. She entered and let out a gasp, announcing her arrival to Antonio and his secretary.
“Antonio, what happened here?” asked Susan. Papers and file folders littered the floor of the tiny office. The phone receiver hung over the desk, attached to its base like a bungee cord. A framed photo with an ominous looking crack across the glass had been knocked off the shelf of the credenza.
“I… I don’t know. I came in this morning and found this.” Antonio personified the cliché––he was tall, dark, and extremely handsome. He opened his arms to point out the mess like a hawk flaunting its wing span. “The door was unlocked and the light was on. I’m hoping there’s some explanation––that maybe Sophie just had some sort of emergency.”
The secretary’s caffeinated words tumbled out of her mouth. “But her purse. It’s sitting there on the desk. She wouldn’t have left without her purse, and her car. Her car’s parked outside in the faculty lot. I already called the police. Oh my God! I hope she’s okay. We have to find her.”
“Try not to panic yet. Like I said, maybe she just left in a hurry and forgot her purse. We checked the campus but I’m sure there are places we’ve missed,” said Antonio.
Susan knew that Antonio didn’t believe that. Otherwise he wouldn’t have called her. Within moments, two detectives entered the room. Detective Jackson Simpson was paunchy, with a receding hairline. His breath smelled like Doritos.
His partner was country girl pretty and sported a blond ponytail. She turned to Susan.
“Mom, what are you doing here?” she asked. Susan saw disapproval in her daughter’s chestnut eyes.
“I was invited. Antonio called me and asked for my help.”
“As soon as I saw this mess, I immediately thought of your Mom,” said Antonio. “Remember how she solved Vicky’s murder back when I was at the elementary school? Right after she retired from teaching music?”
Am I imagining it, or did Lynette just roll her eyes at me? thought Susan. Lynette didn’t seem to mind her mother’s help when she was pregnant and on bed rest last year, no, siree. She’d been nothing but supportive as Susan investigated and eventually cracked that murder case wide open. Now she was back to being annoyed whenever Susan offered her help. With a baby at home, she should appreciate her mother lending a hand.
Detective Jackson Simpson, Lynette’s longtime partner, bent down with his camera and photographed a fast food cup lying under the desk chair. Ice and soda had spilled out onto the floor.
“Hey, Lynette. Maybe we can get some DNA off of that straw,” said Jackson.
Susan thought he was an idiot for not recognizing the unlikelihood of Sophie having shared her drink with her abductor, but she held her tongue. Abductor? This certainly has the hallmark of an abduction, she thought. Wasn’t there an unsolved abduction in Westbrook less than a year ago?
Jackson continued to photograph the scene, while Lynette questioned Antonio.
“Her full name is Sophie Bartolo. She was still here when I left last night around five. From the parking lot, I could tell she was the only one there. All the other offices were dark.”
“Yes. Lots of times she stayed late on Thursdays to finish payroll,” added the secretary.
“How long has she worked here at Westbrook Middle?” asked Lynette.
“Ten years. She started here the same year I did. She should have listened to me. I always told her, ‘Finish before dark so you won’t have to navigate the winding mountain roads,’ offered the secretary. “Something’s wrong––I can feel it.”
“It looks like there was a struggle, based on the condition of this office,” declared Lynette. “I’ll get the CSI team over here to give it the once over. Jackson and I’ll go back to the station and call her family. Maybe they know where she is. This can’t be considered a missing person case yet. It’s too soon.”
Too soon? What if Sophie was kidnapped? Susan knew that the first twenty four hours were crucial in a kidnapping. By waiting they might miss something important. She followed Lynette out of the office.
“You know, I forgot to ask Antonio what time he needed me to help with the book fair tomorrow. Go on. Kiss Annalise for me. I’ll call you later,” said Susan. Annalise was Susan’s precious gem of a granddaughter.
As a precaution, Jackson sealed the room with yellow crime scene tape. Susan wanted to steal another look at the office after the police were gone. She chastised herself for quitting her yoga classes. Bending underneath that tape wouldn’t be an easy task.
Lynette called to her from down the hall. “And Mom, don’t even think about going back and contaminating the crime scene.”
Susan followed Antonio into his office. When they were alone, she asked him if he had any gut reactions as to who the perpetrator might be.
“I have no idea,” said Antonio. “She mostly keeps to herself. She lost her husband in a freaky hiking accident last year. I haven’t heard her talk about any other family members. She’s been spending time with one of our math teachers––Mitch Coniglio.”
“Did she hang out with anyone else here at work?”
“She eats with our guidance counselor most days. You could talk to her.” Antonio clasped Susan’s hands in his. It was like a scene in a movie. “Please help me, Susan. We don’t want parents and staff questioning our safety protocols. You know how schools work. Maybe you could quietly solve this before it blows up into a big police matter.”
Susan liked Antonio and respected his leadership, however, he had an ego the size of Jupiter. She knew he was worried about this reflecting badly on him and couldn’t wait 24-48 hours for the police to determine this was a crime. After all, he was the principal––and a new one at that. He’d recently been transferred here from Westbrook Elementary.
“I’ll do my best,” said Susan. She felt that familiar tingle in her stomach that she got whenever she started working on a case. Sleuthing was the one hobby that greatly enhanced her enjoyment of retirement. She was good at it, and it gave her a purpose.
On the way to her Prius, Susan noticed something shiny in the di
rty snow that flanked the parking lot. She carefully picked it up and examined it. It was a silver ID bracelet with the name Caleb engraved into it. A link looked as though it had been forcefully broken. She wrapped it in a tissue and put it in her purse. It was a longshot, but maybe the owner of this bracelet had something to do with this case.
Chapter 2
Mike, Susan’s husband of nearly forty years, was still at work. It was just her and her two cats, Ludwig and Johann, in the house today. The smell of burnt coffee greeted her as soon as she opened the front door and she realized that she’d left the coffee maker on in her haste to get to the school this morning. She grabbed a muffin––a low-fat bran muffin––and sat down at the dining room table to plan her investigation.
Susan carefully took the bracelet out of her purse. How did it wind up in the faculty parking lot? It could be nothing. But what if it was an important clue? She could start by figuring out who Caleb was. She knew she should turn the bracelet in to the police soon just in case it turned out to be evidence, but first she wanted to have a closer look at it. Maybe she should be wearing gloves, just in case there were prints. Too late now.
It was solid silver. The links were sturdy and thick, except for the one that had been broken. It would have taken some force to break that link. Did it happen during a struggle? Susan went to the computer and found the faculty page on the Westbrook Middle School website. There wasn’t anyone named Caleb on the list. She copied down the name of the guidance counselor. Didn’t Antonio’s secretary say that Sophie often ate lunch with her? That might be a place to start. Surely the police would interview her, but Susan had a way of drawing information out of people.
Susan began searching for Sophie Bartolo on the internet, but was interrupted by a knock at the door. She had forgotten that the repair man was scheduled to come by today and take a look at her anemic clothes dryer.
“Good afternoon, ma’am. Woulda been here earlier, but there was a traffic jam down the road. A couple of police cars blocked off the road by the school over there on Vineyard Avenue.”
“I wonder what’s going on there,” said Susan. “Was there an accident?”
“Don’t think so. It looks like maybe something happened around the school. Odd though. We sure don’t have much crime in Westbrook.”
“No,” said Susan. “Just a couple of murder cases that made the headlines last year.” Susan was surprised that the three separate murder cases hadn’t registered as crime in the repair man’s world. She hoped her sarcasm hadn’t registered either.
“Yeah. And that kidnapping case. It still hasn’t been solved I don’t think. That poor girl’s still missing and it’s been––what? Six months or so?”
“You mean the bank teller? She went missing after work, right?”
“That’s the one. They never talked about a ransom note or nothing. I’m sure she’s long gone, the poor girl.” The repair man checked the lint filter, then pulled the dryer out from the wall. “Looks like you need to replace the heating element. I’ll order the part and we’ll give you a call when it comes in. It’ll work good as new.”
“Thank you. At least we don’t have to buy a new dryer.” She showed him out and sat back down at the computer. Just as she was about to get to work again, her phone rang.
“Hi, Mike. The repair man just left.” She filled him in on the dryer repair, but not the events of the morning. She knew he’d start admonishing her to leave the bookkeeper’s disappearance to the police. He was as bad as Lynette. They were always worried that she’d get herself into danger. She’d tell him tonight over dinner. It’s almost 3:00. Maybe I’ll drop by the school and see if I can have a chat with the guidance counselor. Oh, and I can drop off the bracelet at the police station.
Chapter 3
At the police station, Lynette and Jackson assembled the information they had on Sophie Bartolo and decided to enlist the media’s help by putting out a description and picture. Sophie’s parents hadn’t heard from her and were convinced she’d been taken against her will. Jackson typed: “Sophie Bartolo is forty years old, five foot four, approximately 150 pounds. She has brown eyes and curly black hair.”
“How’s that sound?” asked Jackson.
“Wouldn’t get many hits on Match.com, but sounds accurate. Hopefully someone saw her and can tell us something. Let’s open an anonymous tip line too.”
“Lynette, do you think this is related to that bank teller who went missing last summer? That woman was about the same age as Sophie Bartolo. As a matter of fact, they even look alike––dark hair, slightly plump.”
“We can’t rule it out. That crossed my mind too. We haven’t gotten a ransom note yet. Sophie’s parents are heartbroken. They’re driving in from Rhode Island and will be here tonight. She’s their only child.”
“I can’t imagine what they must be going through. Lynette, remember that other case in Marlboro a few months ago? As far as we know, their police department is still investigating, but the trail must be cold by now. They had a witness who saw someone grab that dental hygienist and drive away with her in a white van.”
“Yes, I remember. Marlboro is only a few towns away from us. Could be the same perp. Let’s pull up the report.”
Jackson quickly found the information and skimmed through it. The dental hygienist was slightly younger than Sophie, but also a brunette, and with a similar build. She’d been abducted as she was leaving work. One of the patients in the office had walked across the street to Rite Aid to fill a prescription the dentist had given him. When he came out of the drugstore, he’d seen the girl being shoved into the back of the van.
Lynette read over his shoulder for several minutes. “But look, it says the witness may not have been very reliable. He’d just had some major dental work, and they’d given him some pain meds before he left the office. In any case, they never found the van or the victim.”
“Yeah, but we don’t have much else to go on at this point. I’ve been on pain medication before. You still know what’s going on. That’s two unsolved missing person’s cases in a short time. Sophie Bartolo makes three. More than a coincidence, don’t you think? Let’s get over to Sophie’s house and see if we can find anything there.” Jackson grabbed their jackets from the coat rack. A bag of barbecue potato chips stuck halfway out of his pocket. “I’ll drive.”
When Lynette and Jackson arrived, they canvassed Sophie’s house and yard before going inside. Nothing looked unusual. The front door was locked and the lights were off. They started in the kitchen. An empty coffee mug and yesterday’s newspaper were on the kitchen table. The refrigerator sported a photo of Sophie with a smiling blond man wearing a Santa hat.
“This may be a boyfriend,” said Lynette. She removed the photo from the fridge. Lynette followed Jackson into the bedroom where they found a framed picture of the couple on the nightstand next to Sophie’s bed. “Yep, I’d say boyfriend.”
Jackson checked the bathroom. “Here’s a man’s electric shaver and a second toothbrush,” said Jackson. “Boyfriend for sure.”
Lynette went into the living room and turned on the computer, which opened to Sophie’s e-mail. The messages were mostly store advertisements, but one caught her eye.
“Look, Jackson. This seems to be a threat of some sort. It says, don’t think you’ll get away with it. I’ll never let you rest.”
“Now that does sound like a threat,” said Jackson. It was sent by [email protected].” Jackson scrolled back through the e-mails. “Look. There are two similar messages.” Lynette looked over his shoulder.
“We can trace them, but I’ll bet whoever sent it wasn’t dumb enough to send it from his own computer.”
“So, we’re most likely looking at either a stalker, or a serial kidnapper with a preference for brunettes,” said Jackson.
“Until we find something else, we’ll go with that. Let’s go to the school and talk to the guidance counselor.”
“Sounds like a plan,” said Lynette.
Chapter 4
Susan crouched behind the bushes and watched Lynette and Jackson leave, before entering the school. She scratched her hand on a dry branch. Lynette would lecture her about sticking her nose into police business if she saw her and she wasn’t in the mood to hear it. She wished Lynette could understand that solving crimes kept her mind active and made her feel useful. She wasn’t trying to do Lynette’s job; she just wanted to help, especially now that Lynette had a baby to take care of.
“Your daughter and her partner just left,” said Antonio. “They interviewed my secretary and the guidance counselor, Elaine Cummings. I’m so glad you’re willing to help me. It’s not that I don’t have faith in the police department, it’s just that they have a full plate and can’t devote one hundred percent of their time to this like I know you will.”
“Always the charmer, Antonio.” Susan gave him a squeeze around the shoulders. “Antonio, do you have anyone on staff named Caleb? Maybe even a delivery man or maintenance worker?”
“No, I can’t think of anyone named Caleb. Why?”
“Never mind. Can I speak with Miss Cummings?”
“Sure. Her office is right around the corner.”
Susan knocked on Elaine Cummings’ door and was invited to have a seat. The office was slightly larger than Sophie’s. A black, microfiber sofa faced the oak desk. Susan detected the faint aroma of lavender.
“Miss Cummings, I’m trying to help find Sophie. My name is Susan Wiles. I understand you were friends.”
“Please call me Elaine. Yes, we’re friends. I’m worried sick about her.”
“I know you’ve already spoken to the police, but Antonio asked if I’d lend my assistance as well. As far as you know, did anyone want to harm Sophie? Did she have any co-workers with whom she didn’t get along?”
“She was––I mean is––quiet. She mostly stays to herself; she’s not overly friendly, but I don’t know of anyone who…” Elaine paused. “Wait a minute. There was something. One day last week, I walked into her office and I heard her talking on the phone. She sounded upset––told whoever it was never to bother her again. I don’t think it was just a telemarketer. I asked her about it, but she said she didn’t want to talk about it.”
