Schooled in Deception: A Michael Bishop Mystery

by Anthony J. Pucci

  “Who told you that?’

  “Just a friend,” she answered. She seemed intent on keeping her source confidential.

  “I’ve been working with Lieutenant Hodge on the Ed Cooper case, and I happened to hear that Mr. Cooper was seen talking with you. I was just trying to follow up on that.”

  “Who told you about me and Ed?”

  “Just a friend,” he said with a smile. Two could play that game. He thought it interesting that she referred to the victim as “Ed” and not as “Mr. Cooper.”

  She smiled as well. If you wanted to know anything, why didn’t you just ask me?”

  It was a very good question. He would have talked with her directly had he thought that she could be helpful in the investigation. “You’re quite right, of course. I should have come to you directly, and for not doing that, I apologize.”

  “No problem,” she responded. “It happens all the time around here. People prefer talking behind your back rather than talking directly to the person in question.” The cell phone in her bag began vibrating, but she ignored it.

  The word he had gotten was that this girl was flighty. There didn’t seem to be anything flighty about her. By confronting him with her concerns, she demonstrated a maturity that he had not anticipated.

  “Okay, then. Let me just ask you directly. Was there anything going on between you and Mr. Cooper?”

  Without any hesitation, she said, “We were friends.”

  “In school or out?”

  “Both.”

  This conversation was headed in a direction that he hadn’t anticipated. Both? She had met him outside of school? Was it possible that she had information that would lead him to the killer? Could she be the killer herself? If she had killed Ed, he doubted that she would have come to him of her own accord, unless she was much more clever than anyone imagined.

  “Tell me about you and Ed.” He sat back, not knowing what she would say.

  “I first met him at the Blue Moon. That was before he started working here.”

  To Bishop, this was a moment of déjà vu. Debbie Bates had also met Ed at the Blue Moon. She was the one who told him about the job opening at Trinity. Of course, Debbie had known Ed previously. Samantha had not.

  The Blue Moon was a bar in one of the seedier neighborhoods on the other side of town. It didn’t seem to him the type of establishment that Debbie would frequent. It was even less likely that a seventeen-year-old would do so.

  “The Blue Moon?” he asked as if he hadn’t heard correctly.

  “Yeah,’ she explained matter-of-factly. “Lots of Trinity kids go there, especially on weekends. They have live music.”

  “Don’t you get carded?”

  “Sure, but there’s this one bartender, Phil. If you slip him an extra five dollar bill, he’ll take care of you, you know?”

  It didn’t surprise Bishop that underage students would find a way to get alcohol or whatever else they wanted. It made him realize how difficult it must be for parents of this generation. Those were issues for another day. He wanted to get back to Ed.

  “So you met Ed at the Blue Moon. Go on.”

  She started twirling the ends of her hair through her fingers. She seemed suddenly less confident. Perhaps she was still dealing with the fact that this man that she had met only weeks earlier was dead.

  “He wasn’t like most other guys, you know? He didn’t try to impress me. He didn’t talk about himself all that much. He was really interested in me. Besides, he was funny and good-looking. He made me feel … good, that’s all.” She let go of her hair and started fidgeting with a silver bracelet on her left wrist.

  “Did he buy you that bracelet?” It was a shot in the dark, but what did he have to lose?

  “This? No way.”

  Another swing and miss for Bishop.

  “He didn’t even have a car. I gave him a ride home a few times. I didn’t mind picking up the tab. He didn’t really have much money at all even after he started working at school. I guess they don’t pay their help very well.”

  Bishop thought of Debbie Bates whose hopes for a raise of ten cents an hour were dashed by the salary freeze. He wondered if Samantha knew about Debbie.

  “Why did you tell your friends that Ed was a creep?”

  Samantha gave him an annoyed look. “That was after Mr. Slater yelled at Ed for talking to me. I didn’t want my friends to know about Ed and me. They wouldn’t have understood.”

  She was probably right about that. They might have pointed out that this guy was about ten years older than she was. He had conned her into buying him a few drinks. Who knows what he might have done next?

  “Do you know of any reason why someone would have wanted to hurt Ed?”

  “No,” she said as she remembered that day. “I was sick that day and stayed home. Someone from your AP class texted me that they had found his body under the stage. Nobody thought it was murder at that point. I was totally shocked. He was a nice guy.”

  There was no point in trying to dispel her of that notion. He thanked for her for stopping by and promised that anything that she had just told him would go no further.

  ***

  Debbie Bates! He had completely forgotten that he had intended to check in with Debbie after lunch. Between the food fight and Sister Pat’s health scare, he forgot to stop by the kitchen to ask Debbie why she had called on Saturday. Since she would certainly have left the building by now, he decided to give her a call before he had a chance to forget again.

  “Debbie? This is Michael Bishop. How are you?”

  “Good,” she answered unenthusiastically. “How was your day?”

  “Other than a food fight in the cafeteria and Sister Pat collapsing and being taken to the hospital, not bad,” he answered with a laugh.

  “I left before they had any word on her condition. How is she?”

  “It wasn’t a heart attack. It’s her gall bladder. She’ll be back to normal in a few weeks.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Considering what her normal is, being back to normal isn’t such a great prospect.”

  “I hear you.”

  “I’m glad you called, Mike. I was going to give you a call later this afternoon.”

  He decided not to tell her that he knew that she had called on Saturday and that he had forgotten to call earlier. “What’s up?”

  “I’ve been thinking about this for a few days. I don’t know if it’s my imagination or what.”

  Bishop had no idea what she was talking about so he just listened.

  “Remember I told you that my car was about ready to conk out?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I took your advice and called Dan Morehouse on Saturday to see if he had anything that might be in my price range.”

  “Good.” He assumed that Dan would offer her some sort of a deal since she was a part of the Holy Trinity family.

  “Not really.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “He was very nice on the phone. He told me that he had several vehicles with decent mileage that I might like. He even offered to work out a loan payment plan that wouldn’t break the bank.”

  Bishop was trying to figure out what the problem might be. “Have you gone over there to look at the cars?”

  “No.”

  “Would you like me to go with you when you go for a test drive?”

  “No. That’s not it.” She sounded increasingly upset. “I’m not going for a test drive. I don’t want to go near that place.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s his voice.”

  It was as if she were speaking a foreign language. He just didn’t understand why she was so upset. He let her continue.

  “After I hung up, I realized something.”

  “What?”

  “Remember I told you that I heard Ed talking with another man the morning he was killed?”

  “Yes.” He felt a
sudden chill course through his body as he realized what Debbie was about to say.

  “I think Dan Morehouse killed Ed.”

  ***

  Could this be it? Could Debbie’s memory of that voice lead to an identification of the killer? He had known students whose voices were quite similar. Could Debbie be mistaken? Could hearing his voice over the phone have altered her perception? Why would Dan have been in that storage room? Why would Dan kill Ed? Debbie had previously told him that Ed and the other man had been talking about the stock market. As a businessman and as the board’s finance chairman, he would most likely be quite knowledgeable on the topic. If Dan were the killer and if he knew that Debbie could place him at the scene of the crime, Debbie’s life might be in danger.

  “I’m going to call Lieutenant Hodge and tell him what you’ve just told me.”

  “I can’t be sure that I’m right,” she admitted.

  “I understand that, but it’s the best lead we’ve had thus far. Just sit tight and don’t tell anyone of your suspicion.” He didn’t want to alarm her, but he was concerned for her safety.

  After ending that call, he tried to contact Hodge without success. He had left the station for the day, and he wasn’t picking up on his cell. Bishop left a short message relaying what Debbie had just told him and suggesting that Debbie might be in danger if Morehouse realized what she knew.

  He checked the clock on the classroom wall. The dealership would still be open. He quickly packed up his briefcase, closed the windows, turned off the lights, and headed out to the parking lot.

  He wanted to confront Dan.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  As he opened his car door, a blast of hot air hit him. He was reminded of a line in Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18, “Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines.” He lowered all of the windows and made the short drive to Morehouse Motors, hoping that Dan would be there.

  What possible connection could there have been between Dan and Ed Cooper? They didn’t exactly move in the same social circles. Dan might not even have known that Trinity had hired a new custodian. Ed was talking to someone about the stock market. Lots of people followed the market. The more he thought about it, the more uncertain he was that Debbie’s belief that the man talking with Ed in the storage room that morning was Dan.

  He had passed by the place hundreds of times without paying much attention. This dealership looked like most dealerships throughout the country. There was a showroom with the latest models on display, and there were hundreds of shiny cars and trucks parked in neat rows. Some vehicles were parked close to the street. The intention was to attract prospective buyers to stop in by focusing on a few loss leaders.

  Then it hit him. He recalled a grammar school teacher from many years ago. Whenever a student who had been particularly obtuse on a topic, suddenly understood it, she would announce to the class, “Light dawns over marble head.” Most people from the Bay State were familiar with the reference to Marblehead, a town on the coast of Massachusetts. Why didn’t he think of this sooner? The windshields of these cars and trucks had numbers and letters written all over them. “2013 … 4 x 4 … $19,995 … Special 1.9% for 60 mos.” Elwin Crimins had seen one of these vehicles parked on the street in front of his house that morning.

  Even though it was quite warm, as he got out of his car, he grabbed his sport coat and put it on. A young man wearing a white long-sleeved shirt and dark gray pants almost tripped as he rapidly prepared to greet a potential commission. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?” he asked as he reached out to shake Bishop’s hand. “My name is Greg. How can I help you today?”

  “I’m here to see Mr. Morehouse.”

  His hopes for a sale before closing time dashed, Greg’s big smile and enthusiasm vanished. “Through the showroom. Second door on the right.” With that, he turned and walked slowly back in the direction from which he had come. Such was the life of a car salesman. Ten percent using every gimmick in the books to close a deal. Ninety percent boredom.

  Bishop walked through the showroom without looking at any of the cars on display. He passed a row of empty cubicles where salesmen could meet with customers in semi-privacy while waiting for the manager to approve their “best offer.” The second door on the right was open. As soon as Morehouse saw Bishop, he jumped up to greet him in a manner similar to that of Greg. He still sported the shiner that Frank had delivered in the faculty lunchroom.

  “Michael Bishop! Nice to see you! Come on in. Sit down. Can I get you something to drink?”

  “No thank you,” said Bishop as he sat in a comfortable leather chair. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a mint.

  “So, you’ve finally decided to trade in that old Corolla. Smart move. Are you interested in new or used?”

  “Neither,” replied Bishop. “I’m afraid you’ve misunderstood the purpose of my visit.” Bishop saw the same dramatic change in manner that Greg had displayed.

  “Look, if you’re hear to discuss the salary freeze or the staff cuts, I’m afraid you’re wasting your time.” He picked up a stack of papers on his desk as if to suggest to Bishop that he had a lot of important work to do.

  When Debbie told Bishop that she thought that the voice she heard that morning was Dan’s, he had made up his mind to confront him, but he hadn’t had much time to think through exactly how he should do that. Seeing the display cars with the numbers on the windshields as Elwin had described also supported his theory. In addition, Ed had told Debbie that someone was stealing from the school. With the irregularities that Bishop found in the school’s financial records, it all started to make sense. Perhaps he should have discussed this with Lieutenant Hodge first, but he hadn’t been able to contact him. Besides, he thought he might get more out of Dan if Hodge wasn’t there. He decided to use the approach that he had used so often with students who had done something wrong. Make them think that you know more than you actually do and let them incriminate themselves.

  He looked directly at Dan and spoke in an authoritative voice. “Dan, I’m not here to discuss board decisions.” He paused to let that sink in. “There are two witnesses who can place you at Trinity on the morning of Ed Cooper’s death.” He paused again as shock registered on Dan’s face. When Dan jumped out of his seat, Bishop didn’t flinch although the possibility that Dan would attack him crossed his mind. Dan closed his office door and sat behind his desk once again. He glanced at the monitors that gave him different views of what was happening in various areas of the dealership.

  “Mike, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said without making eye contact. He poured himself a glass of ice water from a pitcher on a small table near his desk and tried to regain his composure. “Who are these witnesses? They’re lying.”

  “I’m not going to put their lives in danger by giving you their names.” Bishop’s primary worry was for Debbie. If Dan knew that Debbie could identify the voice of the killer, she would be a target. It didn’t occur to Bishop that he was also putting himself in danger of retaliation.

  “I think those witnesses are telling the truth, Dan, and I think you know that as well.” He then proceeded to recount what he felt must have happened. “You went to meet Ed because he figured out that you were stealing from the school. You drove one of your display vehicles to the school early that morning, parked on Newbury Street, and cut through the wooded lot. You used the back entrance to enter the building. You got into an argument with Ed Cooper, and you caused him to fall to his death.” Dan kept shaking his head as Bishop described what happened next. “Then, you broke a few of the steps of the ladder to make it look like an accident.”

  Dan rubbed his face with both hands as if he could remove the guilt that he felt. “All right,” he said with resignation. Bishop’s heart began to pound. Had he extracted a confession? Would it hold up in court? Dan spoke softly. “All right. I was there that morning,” he said as he looked directly at his accuser, “but I didn’t kill him.”

  ***

/>   Bishop did not have to prompt him to continue. Once that initial barrier had been breached, it seemed clear that Morehouse wanted to unburden himself of his guilt.

  “Somehow Cooper had managed to hack into the school’s records and discovered evidence of stock manipulation. He asked around and found out that I was chairman of the finance committee. He threatened to expose me if I didn’t give him five thousand dollars.” He picked up a pencil and began doodling on a pad of paper on his desk.

  Extortion. That was consistent with Tim Kelleher’s claim that Cooper had demanded money for his silence. Both Debbie and Amy remembered Ed bragging about coming into some big money. Dan’s five thousand dollars was the big money.

  “Go on.”

  “He told me where and when to meet him. He was a little drunk when I got there. I guess he was already celebrating his good fortune. He kept telling me how he was a genius when it came to the stock market and how easy it had been for him to detect the fraud. I wanted to kill him, believe me, but I swear I didn’t.”

  “What made you think that he wouldn’t contact you again demanding more money?”

  Dan shrugged his shoulders. “Wishful thinking, I guess. I figured if he really did make some money in the market, he’d leave me alone.”

  The veteran teacher didn’t want to reveal to Morehouse that he had followed a path similar to that of Cooper in discovering some abnormalities in the school’s stock portfolio. “I still don’t understand how you did it.”

  “That was easy.” He became more animated as he explained the process. “Over the years, a number of people have donated stock to the school in order to avoid paying taxes on their gains. Let’s say the school has 585 shares of Microsoft on the books. When the next report comes out, there are 85 shares on the books. That’s a difference of about fifteen grand. Do that enough and you’re talking some serious money.”

  Bishop recalled finding a similar error in the number of shares of Google stock.