A Question of Judgment: A Michael Bishop Mystery

by Anthony J. Pucci

  “Okay, Jeannette. What’s on your mind?”

  “Well, why doesn’t Faulkner have Caddy narrate one of the sections of the book? I mean she does seem to be the main character.”

  “That’s a very good question.” He spent the next few minutes establishing the narrative perspective of each of the four sections of the novel. Caddy Compson has three brothers, Benjy, Quentin, and Jason, each of whom narrates one section. The last section, although not told in the first person, places the focus on the black servant, Dilsey, who has served the Compson family for years.

  “Now, Pete, what do Caddy’s three brothers have in common?”

  Without hesitation, he replied, “Nothing!” That elicited a smile from some of the students.

  “Can you explain that, please?”

  “Well, … you know … they are not alike at all. Benjy has numerous disabilities and functions on the level of a three-year-old; Quentin, who attends Harvard, is an extremely intelligent but very confused young adult; Jason, who becomes the head of the family when the father dies, is just about the meanest character that we’ve encountered all year.”

  Jeannette raised her hand again and Bishop nodded approval for her to speak. “Pete’s right about how different they are. Even Faulkner’s writing style changes dramatically in each section.”

  “Jeannette, I want us to get back to your original question regarding Caddy, but Maggie, do you agree with her assessment of Faulkner’s style?”

  “Absolutely,” she replied without hesitation. “Benjy’s section is so hard to read because he jumps back and forth between moments in the past and in the present so quickly. It’s a reflection of how his mind works.”

  “What about Quentin as a narrator, Maggie?”

  Before she spoke, she reached for some strands of hair that had fallen out of place and curled them behind her ear. “Quentin’s section is even more difficult because it is almost totally stream-of-consciousness as he struggles with issues that overwhelm him.”

  “Good. And what about Jason’s section, Pauline?”

  “As far as understanding it, his section was the easiest to read. He used complete sentences and stuff like that.”

  “All right,” Bishop said, “now let’s deal with Jeannette’s original question. You’ve had a few minutes to think about it. Why doesn’t Faulkner have Caddy narrate a section of her own?”

  Maggie raised her hand tentatively. “I guess it’s because he didn’t need to.” Ed gave her a look that suggested confusion but also interest.

  “Can you explain what you mean by that?”

  “Well, by the end of the novel, we already know so much about her.” Another cryptic answer caused Bishop to gesture for her to go on. “Each of the brothers sees her in a different way.” Looking at Bishop’s eyes, she knew that he wanted her to elaborate. “Benjy loves Caddy and sees her as more of a mother to him than his own mother is. He wants her to remain in the childlike existence that he lives in. Quentin loves Caddy and can’t deal with her loss of innocence because he is troubled by his own sexuality. Jason hates Caddy because he blames his loss of a job opportunity on her promiscuity.”

  “Very good,” Bishop said as he straightened up in his chair and looked around the circle. “Which brother’s view of Caddy is the correct one?”

  “They all reveal a lot about themselves, and that affects how they view Caddy,” Maggie concluded.

  “Absolutely! And that might be a way of answering Jeannette’s earlier question. Don’t you agree, Jeannette?”

  “Well, yeah. I see what you mean. None of the brothers fully captures who Caddy is, but taken together, they present a more complete picture. If Faulkner had made her a first person narrator, she would have told a very different story.”

  Bishop went on to discuss other aspects of the novel with the class. Before he knew it, class was over, and the students repositioned their desks and headed out for their next class. Bishop sat down at his desk to check his email. As his laptop woke up, he realized that the lesson about narration applied to his search for Nick Borelli’s killer. He would have to remember that as he learned more about Nick from various individuals, he would be learning as much about the person who was providing the information. And one of them more than likely was the murderer.

  ***

  There was a message from Ron in his inbox with the word, Important, in the subject line. He quickly clicked on it and read the brief message. Mary Ellen just quit!!!

  Chapter Ten

  He sent back a quick message, What?? I’ll be down next period. As soon as all of the students left his next class, he locked his room and made his way to Ron’s office. He heard a “Pssst! Pssst!” as someone sought his attention. It was Terry. She motioned him over. She had something to share.

  “Mary Ellen’s been fired,” she whispered as she made sure that no one was too close to overhear her. The way her eyes lit up suggested that she was more excited to have this nugget of news than she was concerned about what would happen to Mary Ellen if it turned out to be true. She was too caught up in the drama of it all.

  Not wanting to tell her that he had already heard a different version of events, he feigned surprise, “Really? I wonder what’s going on.”

  “Well,” she said, “there was a big meeting in Sister Ann’s office this morning that lasted for quite a while. When it was over, Mary Ellen went back to her office for a few minutes. Then she slammed her office door shut, and went into Ron’s office. When she came out of there, she was crying.”

  “Have you had a chance to ask Ron about it?”

  “No. I thought it would be better if I waited a while.” She looked at him with a devious grin, “Why don’t you ask him?”

  “Good idea,” he said. He wrapped his knuckles on her wooden desk as if he wished himself good luck.

  ***

  Ron’s office door was partially open. Bishop peaked in and asked, “Busy?”

  “No. Come on in and shut the door.” Ron took a sip of Coke from the can on his desk. “Want one?” he asked gesturing with the can.

  “No, thanks. I’m good.”

  Ron put the can down, then instantly picked it up again and took a larger gulp.

  “Mary Ellen’s gone,” he said dejectedly.

  “I know. Did she tell you why she quit?”

  “She didn’t have to.” He nervously tapped his fingers on the aluminum can. “I was at that meeting.”

  Bishop’s eyes widened. “You were?”

  “Yup. They rarely ask me to sit in on meetings when important decisions are made, but I guess they wanted to see how I would react.”

  “What made Mary Ellen quit?”

  Jennings partially opened the bottom draw of his desk, leaned back in his chair, and used the drawer as a footrest. He knew that anything he told his friend would remain confidential.

  “Sister Ann lit into her first, listing all of the mistakes that she had made including that mess with the payroll. Mary Ellen acknowledged that she had made mistakes, but made the point that she had been thrown into the breach without the benefit of any training when Annette suddenly left.”

  “They couldn’t argue with that defense,” commented Bishop.

  “Not directly, no. But Gleason remarked that her errors had damaged the reputation of the school in the business community, and Sister Pat chimed in that she had damaged the morale of the faculty.”

  “Are you kidding me? That woman has done more harm than Mary Ellen could ever think of doing.”

  “You know that, and I know that, but try telling that to her. Anyway, Gleason brought up the issue of post-dating the checks, and that’s when things got out of control.” Ron’s phone rang, but he ignored it. “If it’s important, they’ll leave a message.” He returned to what happened at the meeting. “Mary Ellen told Gleason that she post-dated the checks at the insistence of Sister Pat at which point Pat slammed her fists on the desk, got all red in the face, and called Mary Ellen a liar.”

&
nbsp; “Oh, brother!” Over the years, Sister Meany, as she was known among the students, often spoke before thinking. “How did Mary Ellen respond to that?”

  “Let’s put it this way,” Ron said with a sardonic grin, “she didn’t take that sitting down. In fact, she leaped out of her chair, jabbed her finger in Pat’s direction, and shouted that she couldn’t believe that a nun could sit there and tell an outright lie with a straight face.”

  Bishop could believe it. Backed into a corner, he knew that Sister Pat was capable of just about anything.

  “Is that when Mary Ellen quit?”

  “Not exactly. After she accused Pat of lying to cover up her own mistake, Sister Ann demanded that she apologize to her immediately. Mary Ellen refused, and she gave her an ultimatum. If she didn’t apologize, she would be fired.”

  Bishop thought about how painful this must have been for Ron to witness. He said nothing as he waited for his friend to continue.

  “Mary Ellen, who was still standing, was visibly shaking. She turned to me for support, and I told her that the best thing to do under the circumstances was apologize. With her eyes starting to tear up, she refused to apologize or to take the blame for something that she didn’t do. At that point, Ann told her she had five minutes to clear her belongings out of her office and turn her key in to the office.”

  Bishop was saddened more than surprised by Sister Ann’s harsh treatment. He knew that attempting to change her mind would be an exercise in futility. Unless he had some bargaining chip to use, there was nothing he could do to help. He was confused on one point.

  “If they fired her, at least she’ll be able to collect unemployment until she finds another job.”

  “Wrong, “ Ron said as he exhaled deeply. “Mary Ellen told Sister Ann that she couldn’t fire her because she quit. She fumbled with her keys until she had removed her office key. She flung it on Sister’s desk with so much force that it skidded right off and clanked on the floor. Sister Pat screamed at her to get out, and Mary Ellen stormed out of the room.”

  “I can understand her frustration, but that was a big mistake,” Bishop said as he looked at the clock on the wall behind him. “I’m sorry that this happened, Ron. Let me know if there’s anything that I can do.” He started to get up from his chair.

  “Wait a sec,” Ron said, “there’s more.”

  Bishop sat back down. He couldn’t imagine what more there could be. Ron had given him a clear idea of what had happened.

  “Jack must have been eavesdropping because when I left a moment later, Mary Ellen was asking Jack to let her into her office. I came back in here, feeling terrible that I hadn’t said or done more to help her.”

  “You can’t beat yourself up about that,” counseled Bishop. “If you had played it any differently, they would have fired you too.”

  “I know that. I’m thinking that that’s the reason they wanted me at that meeting. Maybe they thought that I would give them a reason to fire me too. Or better yet, maybe they assumed that if they got Mary Ellen to quit, I would follow suit. I can’t afford to lose my job,” he said dejectedly.

  It was a scenario that Bishop hadn’t considered, but one that he wouldn’t put past those two sisters.

  “Anyway,” Ron said as he drank the last of his Coke and tossed the can in the recycling bin, “before Mary Ellen left the building, she came in here and blasted me. She said that she couldn’t believe that I just sat there and advised her to apologize and that we were through.”

  Bishop knew that Ron had been badly hurt in some previous relationships.

  “I’m so sorry, Ron. Is there anything I can do?”

  “Nah, I’ll be all right. I just wasn’t expecting it. That’s all.”

  “She couldn’t really expect you to quit your job. She’s obviously very upset right now. I’m sure that when she has a chance to think about it, she’ll change her mind about you.”

  “We’ll see,” Ron said skeptically. “Anyway, thanks for listening.”

  “No problem.” As Bishop put his hand on the door handle, he had another thought. “Listen. I made an appointment to meet with Mrs. Urbanski after school today to look for Nick Borelli’s chemistry notebook. She says that she hasn’t touched any of his things. I’d appreciate it if you came along.”

  “Sure, why not?” Then, with a puzzled look on his face, he asked, “Wouldn’t the police need a search warrant to do that?”

  “Undoubtedly, but we’re not the police, and she is giving us permission to look.”

  ***

  He had time to stop by Terry’s desk. He wanted to ask her what she knew about Dr. Andrews, but she wasn’t there so he kept on walking through the mostly empty hallway. Just before he reached the stairs, Frank Wilson approached from the opposite direction.

  “Good morning, Mike.”

  “Good morning. How are you today?”

  Bishop thought that Frank would offer a brief reply and continue on toward his destination. Instead, he came to a complete stop as he asked, “Got a minute?”

  There were still five minutes before the next class period started.

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  Frank looked around before he spoke. “Well … I just wanted to thank you for what you did at the bank the other day. I guess I overreacted a little bit.”

  “Forget it,” advised Bishop.

  Again, he hesitated before speaking. “I don’t know whether you’ve heard or not, but the administration had a big meeting this morning, and Mary Ellen was fired. I can’t help but feel that I’m to blame for that.”

  Bishop decided that it would not be appropriate for him to explain that Mary Ellen actually had quit when faced with the choice of apologizing to Sister Pat or being fired.

  “I wouldn’t take all the blame on yourself. As I recall, there were a lot of very upset people that day. The whole situation is very unfortunate.”

  “Do you think that they’ll ask Annette to come back?”

  “They might, but I doubt that she would.”

  “I wonder who they’ll get to do that job now. Mary Ellen probably would have worked out just fine.”

  Bishop felt that Frank’s last observation was likely true. If only people hadn’t panicked, but when money is involved, that’s what happens. Frank had also raised a question that Bishop hadn’t considered. Who would be the next business manager? For a moment, he feared that it might be Sister Pat, but then he smiled to himself as he realized that that would never happen. That woman had never done a productive day’s work in all of her years at Trinity. Why would she start now?

  ***

  When he walked into the faculty lunchroom that day, he saw that Ron and Blake were seated at a table near an open window. Ron, who had his back to the window, pointed to the spot next to him when he noticed Bishop coming in.

  “Mike, I’d like you to meet Blake Everett. He’s subbing for Sister Pascala for a couple of weeks.”

  “We met this morning as I was explaining the finer points of using the copier,” he said with a laugh. He placed his lunch bag on the table and sat down next to Ron. He reached into the bag and pulled out a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, some carrot sticks, and a bottle of water.

  “How did your morning classes go?” he asked Blake as he took a bite of his sandwich.

  “Fine. Just fine. The kids are great, and Sister Pascala has every class mapped out for me.”

  “I’m not surprised at that. She is a very dedicated teacher. I’m sure that it was difficult for her to leave her classes, but family comes first.”

  “Agreed,” said Ron who had already finished everything on his tray except for a few French fries that he was using to soak up the remaining ketchup.

  A couple of female faculty members came in and glanced in Blake’s direction. They probably were wondering about the identity of the well-dressed gentleman sitting in their midst. Sister Ann had neglected to make an announcement or send an email welcoming Mr. Everett.

  As he sipp
ed his cup of coffee, he remarked, “I didn’t realize that one of your basketball players had died several weeks ago. The kids in homeroom were telling me that the authorities now think that it was murder. Is that so?”

  Bishop was very interested in what the students might have told this outsider. “Unfortunately, it’s true. Someone slipped a lethal dose of caffeine into his drink during a game. What exactly did the kids have to say?”

  Everett pushed his coffee cup off to the side. Perhaps he had decided that he had had enough caffeine for the moment.

  “They were surprisingly open about it. They were all shocked by the news, of course, but there seemed to be a difference of opinion about the young man. What was his name again?”

  “Borelli. Nick Borelli,” answered Bishop. “What do you mean about different opinions?”

  “Nothing, really,” said Everett defensively. “I just thought it strange that most of the kids said that this fellow … Nick … was a great guy, but this one girl, in particular, thought he was conceited and arrogant and thought he could get away with anything.”

  Bishop thought of the discussion that he had had that morning with his AP class. The perception of Caddy in Faulkner’s novel depended on who was telling the story.

  “Do you remember that girl’s name by any chance?”

  “I’ve met so many people already today that I’m lucky I remember my own name,” he said with a self-deprecating smile.

  Ron returned to a subject that the two men were discussing before Bishop had arrived.

  “Blake tells me that he’s staying at the Weary Traveler Inn.”

  “Really? Does the Proulx family still run that place?”

  “I believe so, yes.”

  “They are good people,” Bishop said. “Their daughter, Janice is a Trinity graduate. Perhaps if you mentioned that you were subbing here, they might give you a discounted rate.”

  “I didn’t think of that,” said Ron shaking his head. “That’s a good idea.”