Murder Is Our Mascot

by Tracy D. Comstock

  "I bet," Emily muttered. No one accused of such a thing would want to remain in the same job. She scanned for a date. The article had been published twelve years ago. She wasn't positive, but she thought Mr. Barnes had not been at Ellington much longer than that. One person would know for sure, though. Snatching up her phone, Emily placed a call to her dad. Waiting for him to pick up, she did a little wiggle dance in place on the couch. Finally, she had hard proof to back up her claim that Barnes was one creepy dude.

  "How's my favorite girl?" Emily smiled at the warmth in her dad's voice, but she wasn't going to let him off the hook that easily.

  "Well, apparently I'm on house arrest now that Tad's calling the shots." She tried to sound more annoyed than she really was.

  "You see, about that, I knew that if your mom had her way, you wouldn't have a moment's peace. And I trust Tad, and…well, I worry about you."

  Emily softened. She knew her dad truly had her best interests at heart, and as much as she loved her mom, if she came to stay with her, Emily knew they would drive each other crazy within twenty-four hours. Her apartment wasn't big enough for the two of them. "I know, Dad. Thanks, really. I just hate feeling like a victim, you know?"

  "I do. And you're not. You're stronger than this." The encouraging, no-nonsense teacher voice that her dad had used in the classroom had its desired effect.

  Emily's shoulders snapped to attention, and she got to the point of her call. She wasn't a victim. She was going to figure out what happened to Jim and bring Helen home. "Dad, I was actually calling to ask you some questions about Mr. Barnes."

  "Ah, your favorite coworker. What's up?" Emily winced at her dad's words. Apparently her dislike of Barnes was not as well-concealed as she had hoped.

  "I did a Google search on him and came up with an interesting article. It would seem that Mr. Barnes was fired from his last job because—"

  "Because," her dad interrupted, "he was accused of inappropriate conduct with a student."

  "Yeah. Exactly." Emily was surprised that her dad knew about Barnes's indiscretion. She hadn't thought this would be the kind of information he would share with others. "I know that Principal Matthews would never let someone teach at Ellington that he thought was unfit, but…the evidence seems to speak for itself."

  "Not really. You see, the allegations were dropped because it was discovered that the claims were bogus. An honor student was upset with the grade she received in chemistry. It ruined her GPA and prevented her from getting some scholarship she had her heart set on. To get back at him, she accused Barnes of inappropriate conduct. I agree that Barnes is an acquired taste, Em, but I don't think he's dangerous."

  "I guess." Emily couldn't hide her disappointment.

  "Don't sound so thrilled." Her dad laughed. "Besides, you promised to leave this alone. No more poking your nose into other people's business. Believe it or not, the police can handle this without your and Gabby's help."

  "I know." She felt a twinge of guilt for her still-crossed fingers, but before she could come up with an excuse for looking into Barnes, her dad cut her short.

  "Sorry, Em. I'm gonna to have to let you go. Got to stop your mom before she burns the house down." The dial tone sounded in her ear.

  Emily stared at the receiver, puzzled. What was with her mom and fire lately? Discouraged by her dad's explanation and reminder to butt out, Emily put her laptop away for the day. The pain in her arm was making it hard to concentrate anyway. She gulped down a pain pill along with some cold fried chicken, surfing the channels. Lulled by the drama of daytime talk shows, she dozed off on the couch. In her dreams, she was having a confrontation with Mr. Barnes, but before she could accuse him of murder, someone was calling to her. She turned, distracted, and Barnes slipped away. Emily fought her way to consciousness as someone continued to call her name and gently shake her shoulder. When she finally managed to pry open her eyelids, sticky with sleep, Tad was looking down at her, a frown on his face.

  Emily tried to sit up and groaned. Her arm ached, her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and she could only imagine the bed head she had going on. She tried to surreptitiously wipe drool from the corner of her mouth before Tad could see it. He continued to frown at her as he switched on the lamp by the couch. "What time is it?" Emily croaked, then cleared her throat.

  Tad tucked a pillow behind her head and one under her arm. "Almost six," he answered. "I came straight here from school, but you were sleeping so peacefully, I didn't want to disturb you. But then you started muttering and thrashing around. I thought you might be having a nightmare, so I woke you up. You okay?"

  "Yeah, sorry. Must be the painkillers. You didn't have to come back tonight, you know."

  Tad kneeled down in front of the couch. "I know I didn't have to. I wanted to." Emily felt a part of her heart begin to ooze like melted butter on hot toast. She tried to tear her gaze from Tad's, but the moment stretched on. She was sure this was it. Tad was finally going to kiss her, but then he abruptly stood up. "Hope you're hungry," he announced with forced cheerfulness, "because supper is in the oven."

  Emily bit back her disappointment as she sniffed the air. "Smells amazing. I'm starved." She pushed frantically at her hair as Tad disappeared into the kitchen. He was back in moments with a steaming slice of her favorite Canadian bacon and chicken pizza. When she quirked an eyebrow, he caved. "Okay, I might have picked up a pie on the way home and reheated it."

  Emily smiled her gratitude. "Homemade or not, my stomach and I thank you." She dug in, not caring when cheese dripped down her chin. She figured if her looks hadn't run Tad off by now, a little messy eating wouldn't bother him either. She seemed to be right, as he also had strings of cheese drooping between his slice and his mouth.

  "Good," he mumbled. After swallowing, he said, "The kids really missed you today. I assured everyone you were fine, but Principal Matthews wanted me to tell you that you could have as many days off as you need."

  "That's nice of him, but I'm ready to get back. I miss the kids, too."

  Tad nodded his understanding. "I figured as much, but I promised to pass on the word."

  "Did Mr. Barnes ask about me?" Emily asked, trying to reign in her sarcasm.

  Tad looked nonplussed. "Not directly, no. You still intent on making him a murderer?"

  Emily ignored his own dose of sarcasm, instead filling him in on what she had discovered about Barnes while researching today. She ended by saying, "So what if Jim had found out about Barnes's past, and maybe even that his bad conduct had carried over to Ellington, and he was blackmailing him? Then Barnes got tired of paying, or refused to pay, and took Jim out."

  "I think it's time for another pain pill and that you should leave this alone. The police are perfectly capable of doing their jobs on their own." Tad carried their plates to the kitchen and then settled down with a stack of papers to grade.

  Emily snarled. "You sound like my dad."

  "Your dad is a very smart man, so I take that as a compliment." Emily frowned at Tad's smug tone but decided to let the matter drop. Gathering up her own stack of grading, she tried to whittle it down, but after several attempts of crabbing her comments in the margins of the paper she was grading with her left hand, she gave up. Tad was intent on his work, so she shuffled off to bed, figuring she would need the rest for her first day back at school tomorrow. Unfortunately, sleep eluded her. She wasn't sure if it was her worries about Barnes that were keeping her awake, or the fact that she had slept the day away. But combined with her awareness of Tad in the next room, the effect was that she was kept tossing and turning through the darkest hours of the night.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Emily smacked her alarm and pulled the covers over her head, seriously debating calling in again. She could hear Tad banging around in the kitchen and humming something cheerful. She rolled her eyes up to stare at the ceiling, but the smell of frying bacon had her lowering the covers below her nose. She was contemplating the giant step from comfy b
ed to cold floor when Tad's head popped around the doorframe, looking altogether too handsome and too awake for this early in the morning. Emily yanked the covers firmly back under her chin, swiping at eye crusties. Tad smiled at her and continued into the room, carrying a still-steaming plate. "Thought you might like some breakfast before I left today."

  Emily snaked one hand free and snagged a piece of bacon. No one had ever brought her breakfast in bed before, unless you counted her mom when she was little and stayed home sick from school. And then it hit her. "I'm still going to school today, but nice try," she informed Tad. He heaved a sigh and turned to the door.

  "It was worth a try," he mumbled, and then louder, "Be ready to leave in twenty then."

  The second he was out of the room, Emily threw back the covers and scurried to the bathroom, turning back for one more piece of bacon. Fighting through another miserable shower that consisted of rigorous calisthenics to keep from getting her cast wet left Emily in a worse mood than normal for morning. Her attempts at applying makeup left-handed left her near tears, so she compensated by picking out a cute outfit that would help boost her mood. She was slipping on her last kitten heel when Tad knocked on the doorframe.

  "Ready to go?" he asked. Emily admired his teal sweater and black slacks, thinking he looked yummy enough to eat. If they had had math teachers like Tad when she was in school, she might be an accountant today. She realized Tad was watching her stare at him, so she quickly checked for drool. She was good to go. Or so she thought. Tad was frowning and blocking the doorway.

  "What?" Emily asked him, confused.

  "Your shoes," he told her, pointing at her feet as if she might not understand what he was referring to.

  "What's wrong with my shoes?" Emily frowned down at her favorite pair of kitten heels in a houndstooth print. She thought they went perfectly with her steel-gray trousers, black turtleneck, and matching houndstooth scarf.

  "You already have one broken arm. And let's be honest, Pit, you're not the most graceful person in the world. Don't you think you should ditch the heels? At least until your arm heals?"

  Emily sniffed. Clearly, Tad underestimated her love affair with shoes. "That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. Mom swears I took my first steps in heels." She brushed past him, trying not to notice the rich, woodsy smell of his cologne. Instead, she scooped up her bag and waited by the door, tapping one of her lethal heels. Tad rolled his eyes but didn't say anything more on the matter, which Emily felt was very wise of him.

  Stepping outside, she came up short when she realized her beloved PT wasn't in the driveway. She swallowed hard. "I guess I need to go car shopping," she said in a small voice. Tad rubbed her arm sympathetically. "But that can wait. Let's roll." She might have sniffled another time or two, but then she set her mind on the day ahead. Today was the day that she was determined to get the goods on Barnes once and for all.

  * * *

  Emily let herself into her classroom, slightly breathless from all the hugs and well wishes she had received on her way up the stairs. It was good to be back. Setting her bag on her desk chair, she pulled out her lesson plan book. Glancing inside, she groaned. There was no way she could avoid the copy room any longer. The copies of the quiz she had planned had to be made today. She was trying to work up the nerve to make the short trek, when a soft knock at her door had her jumping. She let out a high-pitched squeal that sounded more like she was choking, and then was annoyed at her own nervousness. Looking up, she saw a fringe of dark hair outside the door. She waved Stevie in. He toed the floor, hesitant to speak. Emily waited him out, knowing he would say what he had come to say when he was good and ready.

  Finally, he flipped his hair out of his eyes and looked straight into hers. "I'm glad you're okay," he said softly.

  Emily blinked rapidly to keep the tears from showing, but she knew her voice was gruff when she answered, "I am too. Who else would teach you guys about mythology?" She had tried to play it lightly but was surprised when Stevie vehemently shook his head.

  "No, I don't mean I'm glad you're okay because you're one of our teachers. I'm glad because there has been enough violence. I'm glad because you're a nice person. I'm glad because you believe that Ms. Burning is innocent."

  This was the most Stevie had ever spoken to her at one time, so Emily was unsure of which of his comments to respond to first. She settled on, "Why do you believe Ms. Burning is innocent?"

  "She was going to try and talk my mom out of making me quit football. She felt it was good for me to be involved in the school. She…she understood me." Stevie looked so forlorn that Emily wanted to hug him.

  "Why did your mom want you to quit the team?" Emily was curious if his reply would be the same as his mom's.

  "She felt I was spending too much time on football and not enough time on schoolwork. She was pretty upset that my grades were so low. She thought Coach kept us focused only on the game." He paused to look at her intently. "But you know that Coach took our academics seriously. He had been on my case about my grades."

  His comment that Helen was going to try to keep Stevie on the football team now caused her some worry. In her experience, Helen always championed the child. But even if she felt Stevie should remain on the team, had she argued with Coach about the grades Stevie was carrying? Would they have met late at night at the school to discuss the matter? Barnes said he overheard them arguing earlier. But he also said they mentioned the police. The police would have no place in a conversation about grades. The police had to mean something more serious, possibly something more violent, and the way Coach had died could definitely be labeled violent. Emily gave a mental head shake. No. Helen would never resort to violence. She became aware that Stevie was watching her closely, as if trying to read her mind. Time to focus on the main issue here: Stevie's grades.

  "Why do you feel your grades are slipping, Stevie? When I spoke with your mom, she mentioned that you were normally strong in academics, especially English."

  "You talked to my mom?" Stevie's eyes were big. But before she could answer, he shrugged and said, "I'm sick of moving."

  "Have you moved a lot?" Emily knew the real estate market was fickle at best. Arlene had indicated that they had been moving so that she could get better jobs. Emily couldn't imagine the burden of raising a child alone. And it was clear that Arlene wanted only the best for Stevie.

  "Yeah. Mom's job demands it, I guess. At least that's what she always tells me. She promised that our last move would be the final one. I liked it in Iowa. But now here we are in Ellington. She promised me this would be the final move, too. I know she wants the best for me, but I'm really sick and tired of making new friends and learning new ropes." Stevie went back to scuffing the toe of his black Converse on the tile floor. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful. I have the best mom in the world. Really. And I promised her I would do better in school." He once again met her eyes. "I'll do better. Promise."

  Emily nodded. She believed him. She knew she was short on time to get her copies made before the final bell, but Stevie's comment about Iowa echoed in her mind. Jim had also come to Ellington from Iowa. Coincidence? She tried to sound casual as she asked, "Where in Iowa did you move from? Peculiar Bluffs? I know some people there." Well, she knew the principal and Elsie. That qualified as "some," right?

  "Nah. We lived in a small town outside of Cedar Rapids for my junior high years. Look, I better be going. I'll see you in class." With a quick smile, he slipped back out the door, shutting it quietly behind him. Guess it really was coincidence. Foiled again. Turning back to her desk, Emily squared her shoulders and sucked in an audible breath of courage. The copy room awaited. She was about to make the world's fastest copies.

  * * *

  Once she had faced her fears, the rest of the morning felt like smooth sailing. The students seemed glad to have her back, and it was comforting to be in a familiar routine. Her students laughed at her clumsy attempts to write on the board left-handed, but the mythology u
nit seemed to be a big success. Stevie paid close attention during lecture, and when they began their review for the quiz, he was the first one to raise his hand. Emily felt buoyed by her success, and despite her heavy cast, she practically bounced into the teachers' lounge at lunchtime. As she shoved a piece of leftover pizza in the microwave to reheat, she was thrilled to see that only she and Barnes had made it in for lunch so far. She flopped down on the chair opposite his and gave him a blinding smile. "Sure is nice to be back," she said in her most annoyingly chipper voice.

  Barnes barely glanced up from his three-bean salad. No wonder the man was so small—he ate like a bird. "Yes, glad to see you are up and about." Emily had never heard a more insincere comment in her life. She bared her teeth. She was determined to break down Barnes.

  "Of course, it's a little hard to get around without my wheels. My PT was one of the great loves of my life." She heaved a dramatic sigh. "I'm sure you understand," she continued.

  Barnes blinked at her, reinforcing his reptilian image. Emily waited for his tongue to dart out and snag an errant fly. "Why would I understand?" he slowly asked.

  "Why? Well, we've all seen that awesome new car of yours. Had to set you back a chunk, huh?"

  Emily had never known a man who didn't love to talk about his new toys, but Barnes just shrugged and went back to his beans. Emily chewed furiously, trying to come up with a comment that would goad him into responding. A couple more teachers had drifted in, and under the low murmur of conversation around them, she asked quietly, "What was it you drove before? A dark SUV, wasn't it?" Actually, Emily couldn't remember what Barnes had driven before. This was a Hail Mary pass. She watched Barnes from under her eyelashes. His eyes flicked up to meet hers, and he gave her a sickly smile.