Relative Danger

by June Shaw

  Captain White looked at me. He left his wattle alone and peered at Kat.

  “I haven’t hurt anyone,” she said, “that I know of.”

  “Did you see anyone around your car when you left it this morning? Or when you drove up?” he asked, and Kat shook her head.

  Roger rushed through the doorway. “Kat!”

  “Dad.” She bounced up, and they hugged. Clung. The pain in Roger’s face mirrored all the sorrow he’d borne while watching Nancy die.

  Tears stung my eyes. I yearned to stop all this suffering in my son and grandchild.

  “I was checking out the motor in a car,” Roger said to all of us, “and just got back to the shop and received the message. I can’t believe this happened.”

  Captain White spoke to him. “I’ll need some information and then you can all go.” More questions would come later, at the station. Anguish remained in Roger’s face while he gave answers and held Kat. She looked more peaceful by the time we left, with her father’s arm still secure around her shoulder. Kat seemed especially frail, held by the gaunt man at her side, my grown boy.

  We were out of the building when Roger glanced at me. “I’ll take care of her, Mom.”

  “I could help.”

  He shook his head. “I’m taking Kat home. She needs rest.” They both thanked me for coming, and Roger said he would keep in touch.

  I watched them sag against each other. I had to keep my feet planted to keep from grabbing them and forcing them to come with me. I’d take them straight to the airport and shove them in a plane. We’d fly far away.

  I walked across the grass to my car, peering over my shoulder to keep the two of them in sight until they were gone from my view. Few people remained in the area. I slid into the Mustang and sat slapping the steering wheel, cursing whoever had caused my family such anguish. I peered out, saw a brilliant, clear sky, and cursed that, too.

  Vehicles were inching by, the people inside them staring at the school parking lot. I drove away, my inner eye viewing the grief I’d just witnessed. I wanted to be with Roger and Kat. But my son had taken charge. Could he find sudden power?

  The image of Gil’s shoulder came, the cushiony space where I had often leaned my head. I could curl up on his lap and let him hold me. Tell me not to worry.

  I gave my head a shake. Strength had to come from inside me now.

  Captain White had told Kat, Roger, and me that we’d have to go to the station as soon as possible to give more information. For me, this seemed like a good time.

  I drove there and walked in without concern about the place or its people, but noted the strong odor of a sweet cigar. Maybe the fruit trays weren’t working. The man I had spoken to before wasn’t here today. He’d probably gone to the school early this morning to question John Winston.

  Detective Sandra Jones led me to her office. The dark-skinned, petite woman told me to sit, and I did. She sat at her computer.

  “Who could have had a bomb?” I asked. “That should tell you who to arrest.”

  “Anybody with computer knowledge and a little sense could have learned how to build a simple pipe bomb. We’ll check with places that sell the parts and see if we can find out who bought them, but they’ll probably be hard to trace.”

  My mind rummaged through people from Sidmore High. No student in my first day’s classes could have figured out how to make a bomb. But all of those kids were in that construction class. They learned how to build things. Did all kids today have expert computer knowledge?

  “When you went to Sidmore High School to sub,” Detective Jones said, “did you antagonize anyone? Would any student have it in for you, Mrs. Gunther?”

  I made rapid eye blinks. “You think somebody did this to Kat because of me?”

  “Kids do all sorts of things to get even.”

  Her comment dumped a crushing weight on my chest. I had decided to do something about Kat at her school. And I could have caused her death. I slapped a hand over my mouth to keep from vomiting.

  Slumping back in the chair, I tried to force away all my trembling. My pulse throbbed in my head, and I leaned toward this young woman. Words tumbled from my mouth. Anything. I had no idea what information the police might be able to use. Sandra Jones wrote, her fingers seldom slowing on her keyboard. I told about Sledge. Roxy, who was probably okay, but she’d once pulled that knife on Kat. My head reeled. “Kat likes this teacher.” I talked a little about Marisa Hernandez, waiting to see Jones’s intense expression change. It didn’t. “I heard that Miss Hernandez has been a prime target in your investigation of Grant Labruzzo’s murder.”

  Jones stopped typing. She stared at me. “He was murdered? Do you know that for a fact?”

  I shook my head. “Uh-uh, but I thought—”

  She typed more while I told my concerns about murderous-looking Coach Millet and tiny red-faced Miss Gird. Jones’s eyes scrolled down to mine. “Are they connected to Katherine? Did either one of them threaten her?”

  “No. But Miss Gird teaches her now.” I considered. “Oh, and Roxy said the police should be questioning a teacher named Abby Jeansonne.”

  “Why?”

  I was blank. “Roxy just said.” I raised my shoulders. “Your killer could be anyone in the office or driving those trucks and Jeeps and cars.”

  “Again you say we have a killer. Are you sure of that, Mrs. Gunther?”

  Air left my lungs with great sound. “I’m not sure of anything.”

  Of course Detective Jones knew about Mrs. Peekers. She was fine, Jones said, when I asked of the woman’s condition. Went home from the hospital Saturday. “Anything else you can give me?” Jones asked. “Anything that seemed threatening? To you or your son or granddaughter?”

  “Roger only fears having Kat leave him soon for college.” A recent concern sprang to mind. “Do you know if anyone from your office questioned a student named John Winston today?”

  She didn’t know. I told her everything that had transpired with the boy. She typed, stopped, and with big brown eyes peered at my face. “Any threats to you?”

  My eyes rolled up. Which events to tell? Anything that might help Kat. I looked at Jones. “Well, my Lexus was keyed and kicked in when I parked with the students.”

  She nodded, making notes. “Kids do stuff like that all the time. Rebelling against adults.”

  “And somebody wrote on my mail truck.”

  Her head jerked back. “You drive a Lexus and a mail truck?”

  I certainly wasn’t going to tell her about the Mustang parked outside. “When I fly into a city, I like to rent different kinds of vehicles.”

  “Why? Most people rent the same kind of cars.”

  “I try to match what I drive to my mood. Variety keeps me from stagnating.”

  She turned to her keyboard. “What was written on the mail truck?”

  “‘Leave or die, bitch.’”

  Jones peered at me. “Did you talk to anyone in the office at school about that? Did you ask if anybody was seen around your mail truck?”

  “The staff was all busy. A kid pulled the fire alarm that day, and everybody had to go outside. Then they had to get the kids back into classes.”

  Jones made notations. “Okay,” she said, glancing up, “anything else done to you? Anything that might have scared or concerned you?”

  I didn’t like the way some kids looked at me, or that time Abby Jeansonne whipped her body around and gazed at me. Didn’t like the looks of some people in the office. “Nothing was done to my Mustang convertible,” I said without thinking.

  “Convertible?”

  I’d goofed. With a shrug, I said, “Let’s see, what else? I was locked in my classroom, I believe. Not long before Mrs. Peekers was locked in the custodians’ room. And then somebody shot at me.”

  Jones blinked rapidly. “Maybe,” I amended. I took the bullet out of my purse and gave it to her, explaining that I wasn’t sure it was new. And someone may have tried to run me down at a curb, bu
t again, I wasn’t certain. “The driver probably just cut the corner too sharply. And he—or she—drove through a red light. The person could have trouble seeing colors.”

  Little sighs sounding like exasperation came from Jones as she typed all I told, and as I considered all those small events together, they seemed like a mountain of trouble. Eventually Jones stopped. “Were any of the kids jealous of Katherine?”

  “Jealous?”

  “Your granddaughter’s popular at school. She makes good grades.”

  I asked how she knew, and Jones reminded me that deputies had been around Sidmore High. They’d gathered information about many people. Some of the teachers. People they were close to. She asked lots more questions, and when we were through, I felt as if I had taken an all-day exam and hadn’t studied nearly enough.

  How would Kat do on exams if she had to go through anything like this inquisition? And then, of course, the police had quizzed her. They would ask more questions. Prod her about enemies. How could anyone not like Kat? I wondered, leaving Detective Sandra Jones, who said she might contact me again for more information. She kept my bullet.

  I restrained my grandmotherly instinct that told me to rush to Kat. Instead, I phoned her house while I drove.

  Roger answered. “She’s exhausted from queries. And what happened.” He was fine, he said. His voice did sound strong. Fear for Kat must have invigorated him.

  “You try to rest, too,” I said.

  “I’ll want to inspect Kat’s car. And find the bastard who made that bomb.”

  I liked hearing Roger take control. I told him about the police station.

  “Locked your room?” he asked, incredulously. “And somebody shot at you?”

  “I’m not sure. Wish I would be.” Of course he was shocked to learn that I’d even gone to the school.

  “Why didn’t you tell me? Mom, I’m your son!”

  The power in my child’s voice commanded my tears to come. They seared my cheeks, their salinity finding my lips. “I love you, Roger.”

  “And I love you, Mom. Never forget that. Come to me whenever you have a problem. Please.”

  My hand clasping the phone quivered even once we clicked off.

  I gripped my steering wheel, wanting to speed to their house and hold Roger and Kat. They needed to rest, needed some time alone.

  I needed someone to lean on. I couldn’t help myself. My car closed in on the last remaining blocks to Gil’s restaurant.

  Chapter 21

  I rushed inside Cajun Delights, not pausing to think. I only felt. I felt a need to find comfort on Gil’s shoulder. Felt a need for him to love me.

  He met me as soon as I entered. “Cealie.” Gil’s face showed a mixture of joy and surprise. He was walking past the entrance but came to me, his arms outstretched.

  “Gil,” I whispered from my secure place against his chest, welcoming his arms around me. I clasped his back and felt its power. Lingering in his embrace, I ignored voices of hungry patrons who entered, the strength to meet Kat’s problems seeping back to me.

  Gil took my hand and moved me from the crowd gathering near the door. “What happened at Kat’s school?” he asked, sounding worried. “I just heard and was about to call you. A bomb blew up in the parking lot?”

  Hearing Gil say the words brought back all the images. The intensity of his gray eyes when he turned them to mine swamped me with emotions. I fought the sting surging up behind my eyes and nodded.

  “Kat didn’t get hurt?”

  “No, thank God, at least not physically.”

  His shoulders relaxed. “Do the police know anything? The news didn’t say much, only that Sidmore High had been evacuated.”

  “Nobody knows what happened yet.” At least nothing the police were sharing with me. I hadn’t considered the media. They obviously hadn’t announced that Kat’s car had been the one targeted.

  I was ready to tell him all about it. I’d tell Gil all of Kat’s problems and even share with him the news that I’d been subbing. Sticking my nose in police business and Kat’s, trying to make her take exams and show up for graduation. I’d pour out my woes to this man who had stood by me through turmoil in the past. I adored Gil, I realized while his firm hand clasped mine, guiding me toward the back of his restaurant.

  We passed tables filled with people eating stuffed flounder and bacon-wrapped shrimp. I’d tell Gil all and share my fears and my theories. Tell about threats that had, or might have occurred with me.

  He glanced at me, his breath blowing out relief. “At least Kat’s all right. We’ll have to talk more in the office.” He was leading me toward a door in the rear when my peripheral vision caught sight of mega cleavage above a woman’s tight black shirt. I glanced at Gil’s table, where Legs sat, watching us.

  Ramrod stiffness gripped my back. My hands grew cold, my neck muscles rigid. While I’d be pouring out my miseries to Gil, she would sit here to wait for him? And then after I left, she would ask him to tell her everything I said.

  My feet stopped abruptly. I pulled my hand away from Gil’s. “I don’t have time to visit,” I said.

  His eyebrows shot up. “Why not?”

  I knew his girlfriend was staring at my back. Refusing to give her a direct look, I replied to Gil in a cold, accusing tone. “You have a new friend.” I tilted my head to indicate that young woman.

  Gil grinned. “Cealie, you and I have been apart for a while.”

  “I only came in for one thing,” I said, my fury-blurred gaze managing to spy a passing waiter’s plate and giving me the idea. I needed to stop Gil’s upcoming spiel about an unattached man needing a lover. “I want French fries.”

  “You don’t even like French fries,” Gil said.

  My fingernails bit into my palm. “I do now. Could you get me an order?”

  He asked a waitress to fix me some. “And I want them to go,” I added. Gil stared at me, and I clenched my lips to pause my inner squirm.

  “Sorry I missed you last night,” he said. “I heard you came here with Kat and Roger.”

  “I figured you wouldn’t be here.” Was that a lie? I wasn’t certain anymore. I only felt the female eyes boring into my backside.

  “If I’d known, I might have been able to change my plans.”

  “No problem. We ate. The food was good.”

  Gil’s expression turned bland. Were we strangers? Acquaintances? People who’d known each other once but no longer?

  “I’m sure the school will close for a while,” he said.

  I nodded. “I guess the police will check everything out and make sure things are safe before anybody goes back there.”

  “Graduation might be pushed back.”

  I hadn’t thought about that. Didn’t really want to. “Maybe so.”

  “I’ll be invited?”

  My mind and body all felt stiff. “I’ll ask Kat.”

  Gil narrowed his eyes. “Cealie, can I help with anything? Don’t you want to sit down and talk?”

  I had already talked too much. “We’re all right. Thanks for asking.” I accepted my bag of fries from a waitress and gave her the same polite thanks. I held the bag up toward Gil. “Your treat?”

  His face was stern. I turned and rushed out with my eyes focused straight ahead.

  * * *

  At the condo I pulled on running shoes and used them to pound the cement. I ran so hard that my heart pumped harder than I could remember it ever doing. Not so good for a mature woman who hadn’t stayed in shape. But I needed to dump out every inch of fury coiling through my lungs. Every ounce of fear. Every concern I had for Kat and Roger. Forget Gil and counting on him.

  Where was my upbeat attitude? I wondered.

  Lost, it seemed, when my grandchild became threatened.

  I was panting when I returned. I didn’t feel like talking to Minnie. She leaned sideways in the pot. My fault for sure. Just like Kat’s problem. She hadn’t been in danger until I came around, shoving my nosey self into her scho
ol.

  I threw the French fries into a trash can and slammed the cover. Slumping across the couch, I heaved guilt-laden breaths. I needed to stop thinking of the restaurant, stop all the worry. Being angry at myself wouldn’t help me find answers to help Kat. I inhaled and exhaled slowly to purposefully calm my breathing.

  Detective Jones had mentioned jealousy. Could Kat have taken away another girl’s boyfriend?

  Hardly a reason for planting a bomb. But how would I know? I’d seen some of those female students who looked fearsome. Their tiny tops and bottoms. Some girls showed tremendous cleavage. And skirts almost to their panties, if they wore any. Some of those females were surely fooling around with young men. Who knew what they would do to keep them?

  Hannah Hendrick also had huge boobs. Anne Little had huge gold hoops on her ears. Cynthia Petre had small braces and mismatched clothes. Harry Wren had many cacti. Grant Labruzzo killed one of them. Tom Reynolds missed school. He hurried from the warehouse church after he saw me.

  I reached my arms out and stretched. My calves were tight. I’d run hard and hadn’t stretched before or afterward. My view of the ceiling took in the chandelier’s glistening teardrops. No spider in sight, but a piece of web clung to one of them. A deadly web…like the one Kat was caught in. I needed to set her free.

  Worry cluttered my mind. Of course, the detectives and Roger were doing all they could to help Kat now. But I’d been in different situations connected to her—or maybe some weren’t. I needed to sort things out.

  Detective Jones had suggested that another senior might’ve worried about Kat’s final average beating his or hers. Maybe that person would lose an important scholarship because of Kat’s grades. But if Kat didn’t show up for finals…

  The detective’s suggestion had pointed toward a good student going after Kat. With all of those apparent punks in the school, we also had to analyze those who weren’t? The good kids.

  Where had I heard of someone losing out on a scholarship?

  Sledge, caught in a compromising situation with a female student. Grant Labruzzo had turned him in.

  Now I was back to considering the bad kids. My head reeled, and I imagined Legs at Gil’s side, asking about the girl he wanted to watch graduate. What would he say? That he’d almost married her grandma? No, he wouldn’t tell her that. But Legs would want to attend graduation with him, if he went at all.