Chelsea parked in the driveway and entered the house through the garage into the kitchen. She smelled something baking in the oven, and checked the timer to see if it was almost done. Ten minutes were still on the clock, so Chelsea continued moving.
She knew from experience BevAnne would be in the living room. She was resting in a reclining chair with Mistletoe snoozing on her lap.
The white kitten they rescued after a homeless man’s death belonged to all of them, but she stayed with BevAnne after the Powell sisters moved out. Mistletoe was a good companion for BevAnne now that she lived alone.
BevAnne stroked Mistletoe’s back and said, “Come in and sit, Chelsea. We won’t disturb her.”
Chelsea leaned down and hugged BevAnne. “What’s in the oven? It smells divine.”
“I thought a chocolate pound cake would taste good. It should be almost done,” she said.
“There are still a few minutes yet. I’ll check it so you won’t have to get up and wake Mistletoe.” Chelsea sat down. “Do you remember going with Nana Jean years ago to see Principal Black?”
BevAnne’s mouth turned down. “I certainly do. What an odious man. He accused you and Amanda of fighting over that pretty boy softball coach, and implied you accused him of killing Amanda to cover that up.” She reached out for the glass of iced tea on the table next to her, but didn’t drink.
She held the glass in one hand and stroked Mistletoe with the other. The repetition seemed to soothe both of them, and she finally drank from the glass. “Jean was having none of it. She told him in no uncertain terms that he needed to control the coach. Rumor had it he was taking an unhealthy interest in some of the girls, and Jean knew from several mothers it wasn’t just rumor. Principal Black backed off, but he said he couldn’t have you making unfounded accusations against the coach.”
“I remember,” Chelsea said. “Nana Jean hugged me and said she knew how hard this was for me, but nothing I said or did would bring Amanda back.”
Mistletoe stirred and stood up, arching her back and stretching. She jumped down to the floor and walked to the kitchen, turning to look over her shoulder as if to say Aren’t you coming with me?
The timer beeped. BevAnne and Chelsea followed Mistletoe into the kitchen. BevAnne put on pretty blue and white toile oven mitts, removed the cake from the oven, and set it on the cooling rack already on the counter. She set the timer for 10 minutes and took the mitts off.
She and Chelsea sat at the round glass-topped table in the breakfast nook. Sunlight slanted in through white plantation shutters and warmed the area. Flowers outside in window boxes waved their petals in a breeze.
“It was a terrible time for all of us. Jean was afraid you might think she was taking the coach’s side,” BevAnne said.
“I never thought that. I was upset about Amanda, and Joshua told me after the funeral that if I’d been a better friend she wouldn’t have killed herself. I blamed myself for years.” Chelsea took a tissue from her pants pocket and dabbed her eyes. “I know I wasn’t to blame. At the time, though, it cut me to the quick.”
“Oh, sweetie,” BevAnne said. She got up and hugged Chelsea. “Jean and I didn’t know you blamed yourself. I’m so sorry you went through that by yourself.”
Chelsea let herself be enveloped by the smaller woman. The warmth and love BevAnne always gave them made her feel better now, and Chelsea felt the tension stirred up by thinking about Amanda easing.
“I think we need cake,” BevAnne said. “Tea and sympathy is fine, but chocolate is better.” She bustled around the kitchen, taking the cake out of the pan to continue cooling, going into the pantry and coming out with two red velvet cupcakes.
“Chocolate and cream cheese frosting suit you?” she asked.
Chelsea smiled. “Always.”
They ate the cupcakes and caught up about mutual friends. Chelsea told her that Sarah Malden would be taking Brittany’s place as hostess. Soon after, they said goodbye and Chelsea left.
She knew who the killer was, but not yet how to catch him.
Chapter 6
Wednesday morning
Chelsea was certain Principal Black killed Coach Johnson. Nana Jean had known women with daughters who had been involved in some inappropriate way with the coach. Was Coach the pursuer or the pursued? Had the school district been compelled to pay off parents to keep from being sued?
Worse, had the school district kept a predator on staff in a position where he continued to have access to prey? It was clear to Chelsea that if Principal Black was protecting the coach, school board members could have been doing the same.
Suspecting who killed Coach Johnson was one thing. Proving it was another.
Chelsea called Troy to report her conversations with Mrs. Duncan and BevAnne. He was going into a meeting and they arranged to meet at Beach Tea Shop at 10:00. They would have time to talk before Beach Tea opened for business at 10:30.
Troy arrived on time. He and Chelsea shared their findings and made a plan.
“Thank you,” he said. “We wouldn’t be this far along without having someone who remembers what happened back then. Your help will go a long way to getting us the information we need to make a conviction stick.”
“I want justice for Amanda,” Chelsea said.
They reviewed details of their plan one last time before Troy left.
~*~
Chelsea made an appointment to see Principal Black that afternoon. She was surprised she didn’t feel nervous. Finally, she was doing something. It made her feel strong.
Dani and Alex finished preparing for the lunch rush, and Chelsea unlocked the front doors. The first wave of customers came in, and Chelsea had no more time to think about what the afternoon would bring.
~*~
Troy met Chelsea in the parking lot of Citrus Beach High School. Chelsea came from work and still wore her uniform of black pants and white button-down shirt. Black sneakers completed her outfit.
“Ready?” he asked.
“As I’ll ever be,” she replied.
He nodded and she went into the school for her meeting with Principal Black.
The receptionist signed her in and gave her a visitor’s badge. Chelsea sat in the waiting area for a few minutes before the principal’s secretary escorted her to his office.
Chelsea had not been in this office in more than ten years. Many photos of Principal Black shaking hands with civic leaders, local celebrities, and politicians covered three walls. Framed diplomas were centered among the photos on one wall.
Principal Black sat behind an imposing carved wooden desk. His black leather chair dwarfed the two armless chairs in front of the desk. Chelsea thought the chair gave the impression of a throne, and that it suited the principal.
“How can I help you today, Chelsea?” he asked. “My secretary said it seemed urgent, but didn’t know what you wanted to discuss.”
“My apologies for leaving a cryptic message,” Chelsea said. “I wanted to clear up a question I had before I talked to law enforcement.”
He sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers in front of his chest, a man at ease. “What question is that? You’re not dredging up that nonsense about Coach Johnson again, are you?”
“No, that’s not it. On Monday I heard you arguing with him about money. What were you arguing about?”
“Budget issues, that’s all. Nothing you need to worry about.” He sat forward, no longer unconcerned about Chelsea’s questions. “Why do you ask? And why would this be of interest to law enforcement?”
“It didn’t sound like nothing to me. It sounded like he was costing you money in some way,” Chelsea said.
“Everyone loved him. How could he cost me money?” Principal Black’s assertion about the coach raised the hackles on Chelsea’s neck.
“Not everyone loved him. Say what you want, but I know he behaved inappropriately with several girls. I think at least you, and some if not all school board members, knew about it and paid off the parents.
”
Principal Black turned an ashy color before turning red. “You’re an unstable young woman. I’ll not have unfounded accusations levied against me. The school board won’t stand for it either.” He stood, indicating the conversation was over.
Chelsea remained seated. She wasn’t done yet. “They’re not unfounded, and I have proof. I’ll be taking my information to law enforcement tomorrow. I’m sure you’ll be hearing from them soon.”
She stood up and walked out of the office, returned her visitor’s badge, and left the school. After she was out of the air-conditioning that chilled her, the heat felt good.
Troy called before she’d driven out of the parking lot. “Do you think he took the bait?” he asked.
“I think his ego is too big to let a woman get the best of him,” Chelsea answered. “Have you been in his office? Every photo on his walls is with a man. You’d think women don’t exist in his world.”
“We’ll be watching. Take care.”
Chelsea said, “I’ll be waiting.”
Chapter 7
Chelsea returned home and prepared dinner for her sisters. She wondered how to tell them about the plan she and Troy hatched to catch a killer so they wouldn’t worry.
Troy had the tools to get the financial information they needed to prove payoffs were made. Would she be able to get the killer to admit why he’d killed Coach?
Local knowledge was the key, Chelsea thought. She knew what happened to Amanda. Troy had an idea about getting the killer to reveal himself. Would it work?
Dinner was over, the plan laid out, and Dani and Alex went to visit BevAnne.
Chelsea was alone in the house. She turned on the TV but was too restless to watch. She decided to catch up on her reading and settled in with a cozy mystery. The house was quiet, the only noise coming from the air conditioner humming in the background.
Branches snapped in the backyard. Chelsea didn’t look up, but her heart rate skyrocketed. Was this it? Was their plan working?
The back door slammed open against the inside wall, and someone rushed into the room where Chelsea now stood. Her mouth was dry. Her nerves were fizzing.
Principal Black stood there. He looked pleased with himself. He’d trapped a woman in her own home.
“I’ve been expecting you,” Chelsea said.
That rattled him. His eyes dipped down, and he looked at his hands.
“You’re lying.” He looked around as if to reassure himself they were alone.
“I’m not. You killed Coach Johnson. You came here to kill me.” Chelsea felt in control. Their plan was working.
“I will kill you,” he said. He took a step forward. “You killed my friend.” Principal Black said the words as if he was testing them, getting ready to tell others a story.
“You killed Amanda all those years ago, and now you’ve killed Coach Johnson, too.” He snapped to attention at her words, just as Chelsea hoped. She wanted him focused on her.
“Coach Johnson killed Amanda. It was my idea to make it look like suicide. It was easy.” He sneered. “Lovesick girls, mooning over him like he was so special. I made something of myself, and he was just coached girls softball.”
“You’re special, all right,” Chelsea said. “You should be Superintendent of Schools by now. Doesn’t the school board recognize what you’ve done?” Three walls in his office told her what would keep him talking; she just needed to stroke his ego and he’d talk all night.
Talk, he did. “They keep harping on the budget. Coach was costing me a promotion, with lawsuits every few years. We’d settle, and would they thank me for saving money by not going to court? No, they would not.”
Principal Black paced in front of the doorway. He was growing agitated. Chelsea feared he would take his frustration out on her. He’d already steeled himself to kill her. It was just a matter of time.
“Did you get enough?” Chelsea asked.
“What?” He looked at her in confusion.
“Not you. Them.” She pointed to the sheriff’s deputies behind him. “They know how special you are.”
Troy stepped forward, ready with handcuffs to snap on Principal Black’s wrists. Deputies filled the room. He didn’t put up a fight.
“Thanks, Chelsea. We couldn’t have gotten him to hang himself the way you did,” Troy said.
“You’re welcome. He answered a question that’s been burning in my heart for years.” Chelsea watched Principal Black being led out of the house through her ruined back door.
“I’ll get someone to help with that door,” Troy said.
“It’s going to be a long night. Help is appreciated.” Chelsea hugged him before he left, and felt at peace for the first time in years.
Chapter 8
Wednesday, late evening
Chelsea knocked on Mrs. Duncan’s door. Joshua answered it and ushered her inside. Mrs. Duncan sat in the living room with her granddaughter Olivia on her lap. Joshua sat down on a sofa next to a woman he introduced as his wife, Ava. To Chelsea, they seemed apprehensive.
Joshua said, “I’m sorry I said it was your fault Amanda was dead. I was upset and lashed out at you. Can you forgive me?” He looked forlorn, and Chelsea’s heart melted.
“I forgave you a long time ago,” Chelsea said. “I wanted to tell you what I found out tonight. You’ll hear pieces of the story in the next few days, but not everything.”
Mrs. Duncan hugged Olivia close. The little girl reached up a hand to her grandmother. It smoothed the tension from Mrs. Duncan’s face, and she looked at Chelsea with an expectant look.
“Principal Black was arrested for the murder of Coach Johnson,” Chelsea said. “Another lawsuit against the coach had been filed, and they couldn’t ignore the big problem they had. They thought it was frivolous lawsuits, and it turned out to be something much worse. They were concerned that settling the lawsuits made them complicit in a cover up of abuse. They were on the principal’s back to fix the problem. He says he snapped.”
Joshua said, “He knew that Coach Johnson was abusing girls all along. If he killed the coach, it’s because he thought he could get away with it.”
“You’re right. He calculated the risk and the reward. He wanted to become Superintendent of Schools. He saw Coach Johnson as an impediment. He has such a low opinion of women he thought everyone would believe him if he started a rumor I had something to do with Coach’s death.” Chelsea felt calm deserting her, and concentrated on her breathing.
Mrs. Duncan said, “Was that it? They were concerned about the money, not the girls?” She sounded angry and resigned at the same time.
“He said the school board has talked about getting therapy for the girls who were taken advantage of by the coach.” Chelsea paused to regain her composure before continuing.
“Coach Johnson killed Amanda. He kissed her, she pushed him away and ran out. He was afraid she would tell someone about him, so he went after her. She tripped and fell, hitting her head against a table. She broke her neck in the fall. He panicked and called his friend, the principal. That’s whose idea it was to make it look like Amanda committed suicide.” Chelsea took a deliberate breath and released it.
“Coach Johnson held it over Principal Black’s head. He couldn’t trust that the coach wouldn’t spill his secret. I think that was the real reason Principal Black killed the coach.”
“You were right all along. Coach Johnson did kill Amanda,” Joshua said.
“I never wanted to be right. I wanted my friend back,” Chelsea said. She felt her control slip away, and tears ran down her face.
They all hugged. The Amanda-sized hole in their lives would always be there, but knowing the truth about what happened helped Chelsea realize there was nothing she could have done to prevent it.
She didn’t feel relieved.
She felt grateful that finding out what really happened brought Mrs. Duncan and Joshua back into her life. The truth about Amanda’s death would come out and remove the tarnish from her memor
y.
Chelsea and her extended family would heal. Love made sure of that.
--The End--
Linda Gordon Hengerer is the author of the Beach Tea Shop mystery series, and several non-fiction books on football and wine pairings. A New Jersey native transplanted to Florida, she enjoys winters with sun and sand instead of snow and freezing temperatures. She is a board member of Mystery Writers of America-Florida Chapter. Many years of working in corporate America have made her grateful for her writing time. Visit her at LindaGordonHengerer.com.
The Glass Birdhouse
By Carole W. Price
Editor’s Note: Glass artist Bella Storm hopes to find clues about her student's death in the woman's unfinished glass birdhouse.
Chapter 1
“Stay in the car, Bella,” Detective Peter Bronsen said, as we pulled up to the crime scene. He parked on the street near the driveway, which was full of emergency vehicles.
“Why? This isn’t my first crime scene.” I’ve been a police volunteer for the Carmel-by-the-Sea Police Department for years, and have been on many ride-alongs.
“Bella Storm, have you forgotten that you’re pregnant? Carbon monoxide wouldn’t be good for you or the baby.” Detective Bronsen got out of the unmarked car, but stuck his head back in to emphasize his command. “Stay here, Bella. Please.”
With that he was gone, walking through open iron gates toward the crime scene, bathed in blue and red by the flashing lights.
The report over the car radio was for a female who had died inside her car in the garage at this address. Charing Cross was populated with large Tudor-style houses, separated by immaculate landscaping and set far apart from each other. If foul play had taken her life, no one would be the wiser.
I struggled against the urge to follow the detective, trying to think of anyone I knew who might live in this area. I rolled the window down to freshen the stale air inside the car, keeping my ear to the radio for updates.
Happy Homicides 4: Fall Into Crime: Includes Happy Homicides 3: Summertime Crimes Page 6
