by P. Wish
“Thank you,” Jane said, receiving the sheets of paper from her and scanning them. The phone rang again. Mrs. Wolverhampton answered, a loud voice cutting through the stillness.
“I understand, Mrs. Jackson,” she said. “I assure you that the school takes safety of its students very seriously.”
The conversation went on for five more minutes. Jane finished reading the timetable and turned to Mrs. Wolverhampton. Her eyes sank deeper into their sockets.
“The parents are worried,” Mrs. Wolverhampton explained. “Once the police—”
“I saw him on my way here.”
“The inspector?”
“The Detective Inspector.”
“A detective?”
“He said his name was Detective Myers.”
“I see.” Mrs. Wolverhampton switched to her poker face.
Jane read the papers silently while Mrs. Wolverhampton signed off on a few files. A few minutes later, she laid the pages on the desk.
“I’m ready to begin,” Jane said with a smile.
“Great.” Mrs. Wolverhampton opened the drawer and pulled out a set of silver keys. “These are the keys to your office. It’s on the second floor, to the right. Students drop in during your visiting hours to ask any questions.”
Jane nodded. Mrs. Wolverhampton laid the silver key on the table.
The cold edge of the silver keys touched Jane’s fingers. She slipped them into her pocket and stood up.
“Dinner is served at the dining hall between five thirty and eight each night,” Mrs. Wolverhampton said. “All teachers dine with the students. You will have weekly dining hall duty and fortnightly dorm duty. Mrs. Maeda is in charge of the dining hall duty. She’ll send the timetable to you tomorrow. Let her know if you have any preferences.”
“I will. Thank you,” Jane said. She made eye contact with Mrs. Wolverhampton.
“Welcome to St. Anne’s,” Mrs. Wolverhampton said with a twinkle in her eye.
Jane bowed and turned.
“If you need any help, you can find me here.”
Jane bowed and collected the papers.
“Have you moved into the dorm?” Mrs. Wolverhampton asked.
“Yes,” Jane said.
Mrs. Wolverhampton nodded. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Jane. Best of luck to you.”
Jane thanked her and walked to the door. She exited the office, shutting the door behind her. The sound of high-pitched chatter filled her ears again. The drone of daily activity went on. The sharp school bell rang amidst the chaos. It was time for her first biology lesson.
She pulled a printout of her timetable from the plastic folder and found the location of the class. She followed the instructions and walked. She ended up back at Mrs. Wolverhampton’s office after a few minutes.
At 10:00 a.m., Jane stood before a classroom. Her shadow fell on the wooden door, which stood ajar. She heard voices behind the door and took a step towards the classroom.
“It was the ghost of Robert Brown,” one of the girls said. Jane’s footsteps froze outside the door. The girl’s high-pitched voice was low and heavy. Through the narrow opening, Jane looked in at the blonde girl in the brown cardigan she’d seen earlier. The girl, about fourteen, sat surrounded by other students. There was a spark in her blue eyes.
“You mean the Robert Brown?” a low male voice asked. “That is ridiculous!”
“Think about it, somebody drowned in the same lake.”
“That doesn’t prove anything,” a sharp female voice cut in.
“It’s not only that,” the blonde girl said. “He was found after Easter.”
“That’s a coincidence,” a short blond boy in school uniform said.
“The ghost wants revenge.”
“How original,” said another girl seated in class, rolling her eyes. “Aren’t we too old for ghost stories?”
“Make fun of me all you want, but you know I’m right. Did you see the crack in the bathroom mirror?”
“Which mirror?”
“The one on the girls’ bathroom on the second floor of the dorm.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“It’s a sign.”
“A sign of the doom to follow?” A raven-haired girl rolled her eyes.
The blonde cleared her throat. “The ghost of Robert Brown is here to avenge his killers.”
“He wasn’t killed, Melissa. He committed suicide,” the blond-haired boy reminded her.
“That’s what the detectives think,” Melissa said with an intense expression.
“My dad’s worried. He wants me to come home,” she began.
“My mom’s worried too. She’s been calling me thrice a day. She thinks I’m not safe here,” a hollow voice said. Jane couldn’t see the face of the boy who said that.
Jane’s hand unconsciously fell over the doorknob, casting a shadow on the front desk. The students turned. The classroom was silent for a moment.
Jane pushed the door open and cleared her throat. The chatter dissipated. Fifteen pairs of eyes turned to her. Jane walked to her desk and put the papers down.
“Good morning. I’m your new biology teacher, Jane Grey.” Jane saw their blank expressions.
The students rolled their eyes. Their gazes met one another. Behind Melissa sat a well-built boy with spiky blond hair and penetrating grey eyes. Jane guessed he was on the soccer team. The petite girl with raven-black hair sat next to him, shooting Jane a disinterested glance and turning to the window. At the back of the class sat a boy with overgrown brown hair and a fearful expression. He slouched over the desk. Jane sighed. Ninth grade felt like another lifetime.
“Today we’re going to study cell structures,” she said. The students stared at her blankly. She cursed herself for thinking that this job was going to be easy. Plastering a smile on, Jane sat in her chair and began speaking.
An hour later, she walked out of the classroom. Her first lesson at St. Anne’s was over. The noisy school bell rang. Shrill soundwaves penetrated her ears. Some things never changed. Jane dumped her books into her bag and closed the door.
Robert Brown. One can learn a lot by keeping one’s ears open. He had drowned in the lake five years ago and his case had been dismissed as suicide. Somehow, that name always showed up on Google when she searched for “St. Anne’s.” She didn’t know much about him otherwise, except that this death had tarnished the school’s reputation.
Jane navigated the high-ceilinged corridor and turned near the washroom. She walked into it and stood there, facing the mirror. Her face looked scared and confused at the same time. Her heartbeat ticked like the noisy wall clock in Mrs. Wolverhampton’s office. Echoes emanated through the empty space. She heard somebody flush. A cubicle opened and a female student walked out. She looked at Jane for a second before proceeding to the washbasin to wash her hands. The student fled the washroom a minute later.
Jane observed her aging face in the mirror. Her skin was beginning to lose its elasticity. Her muscles had degenerated into lumps of fat over five years. Fine lines filled the edges of her face and temples. Her eyes looked deeper than before. She was forty-two now. Her skin was neither elastic nor youthful. She sighed. Nobody could deceive time.
Gary’s face flashed in her mind. He too had aged, but the credit went to the donuts he had been consuming too frequently, not time. Streaks of silver were scattered on the edges of his dark brown hair, but his gaze was as intense as ever. She pictured the 2012 Dodge Charger, the endless supply of coffee, the long nights and the smell of cadavers. That was his life, not hers. Not anymore.
The door opened. Jane pulled away from the mirror as another girl walked in. Jane opened the tap and heard the water flowing. She splashed some on her tired face and walked out after pulling a few tissues out. She made her way through the corridor, drying her face with the tissues. As she passed through the corridor, she wondered why she had decided to become a teacher of all things. She pulled the sleeve of her sweater up and exami
ned the six light brown scars on her left arm. She covered them with her sleeve again and continued to class.
At 7:00 p.m., Jane stepped out of her new apartment in the teachers’ dormitory. The heated corridor welcomed her. She took one last look at her room before shutting the door. Cardboard boxes and bubble wrap lay scattered on the green carpet. One wall of the room was filled with a long table. She’d placed most of her things there. Perpendicular to the table stood a wooden bookshelf, which Jane had managed to fill in four hours. There was a single bed and night lamp on the other side of the room. The wardrobe lay next to the shoe rack at the entrance. There was a kitchen and bathroom on the other side of the room.
Though the place was called a dormitory, it was in fact, an apartment building. Jane’s “room” was a fully furnished two-room apartment equipped with basic electrical appliances, including a computer. The walls were made of brick and cement and painted light green. Jane had brought along a bedding set, just in case.
As she stared into the heater, her first with Gary lit up her mind. Memories rewound. It was a cold day in January, ten years ago and it was snowing in London. It was her first assignment as a Detective Constable. At two in the morning, she received a call saying a woman’s dead body had been found at at a third-grade on the outskirts of London.
She reconstructed the image in her mind. A middle-aged, light-haired woman lay before her, naked, except for the piece of cloth that covered her from down her naval. The forensic department was taking photos and gathering evidence. A full-bodied, red slash ran across her body. The room smelled of musty weed. Jane’s eyes moved to the packet that lay next to the body. From what Jane could gather, the woman had been smoking weed before being raped and slashed. Not what you wanted to see at 2 AM in the morning. To add to it, she hadn’t had any coffee.
“The rigor has set in,” the forensic expert said. Jane, new to all this nodded her head. Her heart beat loudly, drowning out the sound of everything else. She wanted to bend down and examine the body but sweat made her hands clammy. Either the heating was too warm or she was too nervous. She knew it was the latter. She wanted to prove herself. Her future was riding on this case. That was too much pressure. She couldn’t stop thinking of all the ways in which she could blow this.
“Who reported it?” Jane asked, trying not to look at the gruesome scene that had unfolded before her. No amount of training prepared you for the real thing.
“The owner of the motel.” The words only partially registered in her brain.
“Who was she with?”
“The owner says its private information.”
Jane sighed.
“Any signs of rape?”
“Yes.”
“Where is the other detective?”
The photographer shrugged his shoulder.
Jane glanced at her watch. 2:30. There was no sign of the other detective who was supposed to take on the case with her. Somebody was late. She bent down and looked for any identification on the victim.
“Did she bring a purse?” Jane asked. She saw that one lay on the bed. She opened it and emptied it out on the bed. A fiverr, a mobile phone, a wallet full of coins and cards, red lipstick, almost down to the pan, mascara, kohl, a roll of gum, tissues, a photo of the victim and some old receipts fell out. She opened the wallet and dug for any identification. The woman had her driver’s license and business card on her.
Jane looked around the room next. The window was closed and the blinds were drawn. Jane walked to the window. It was vacuum sealed. No exit was possible from there. Jane looked around at the room. There was a wooden cupboard. She glanced down at the floor. The cupboard had been pushed back. There were signs of exposed dust and dragging on the wooden floor. She walked towards the cupboard.
At that very moment, someone burst in through the door. With some measure of relief, she turned.
Before her stood Gary Myers, considerably younger than he was now. The first thing she noticed about him were his piercing grey eyes. He was well-built, and had an athletic frame. She couldn’t help but notice the effortless air of masculinity that accompanied him. His hair, which was a deep shade of brown, which contrasted his slightly tanned complexion. Since he’d woken up not long ago, it was scruffy. There was something raw about him, yet he looked easygoing. His jaw, slightly unshaven, only added to his charisma. For some reason, she couldn’t take her eyes off him. He looked at her, like she was the only woman in the room; the only woman in the world, a very strange feeling.
Jane swallowed as uneasiness rose in her belly.
“You’re late.” She said, steeling her voice. That was the first thing she said to him.
He looked at her and titled his head. In three strides he covered the distance between them. Jane looked up. He extended his arm.
“I’m Gary Myers,” He said, his voice friendly. Ah, the infamous Gary Myers. She should’ve known. He was a ladies’ man, to put it subtly. Though she’d heard about him, she’d never actually worked with him.
“Jane Grey.” She said, her voice professional and severe.
“Nice to meet you, Jane.”
“The victim, Sheila Simmons, age forty-three worked at a bar near Epping. She checked in with a man yesterday,” Jane said, turning towards her body. All this time, she was trying to avoid meeting his gaze.
“John Mallory,”
“Excuse me?”
“I believe that’s what he signed his name as in the register.”
“You had a look at the register? It’s private-“ Jane tensed up.
“I signed in before coming up. As a guest.”
“You booked a room-”
Gary smiled. Jane rolled her eyes. “For the record, I used your name to book it.”
“What!?” She wanted to burst out but upon seeing him smile, she realized it was a joke. To her surprise, she too smiled. The tension and nervousness that she’d been feelings melted away. And she knew then that this was the beginning of a strange relationship.
Jane sighed as she backed off from the heater. How distant that day appeared to be now that she was older. She checked the clock. It was time for dinner.
She turned the heater off before closing the door. She slid the card key into her pocket and backed off.
There was nobody in the corridor. Her gaze fell on the room next to hers. It was locked. It was quiet. Compared to the main building of the school, the teachers’ dormitory was quiet. Jane’s footsteps echoed through the corridor and rang against the hard wooden floor. She descended the stairs, stopping when she noticed a shadow hanging at the bottom of the next stair.
At the base of the staircase stood someone. Jane’s gaze traveled up from his shoes to his face. Gary Myers, Homicide Detective. Jane stood still. He was talking to Mrs. Maeda.
“Who did you see?” a deep voice resonated in the high-ceilinged corridor. Jane stopped and turned to look. She saw two shadows in the corridor to her left. Their voices grew louder.
“I can’t remember very well. It’s been a while,” a soft, feminine voice said. “I thought I saw a shadow outside the teachers’ dormitory.”
“You’ve never spoken about this before?”
“No,” the woman said.
Jane leaned closer to the shadows. The chandelier light hit upon the face of Detective Myers. Next to him, she saw a petite, dark-haired woman, dressed in a light pink dress and grey cardigan. She leaned on her right foot for support. Detective Myers’s grey eyes were narrowed on her.
“I wanted to have a look at his room.”
“I’ve unlocked it.” Mrs. Maeda said. Here are the keys.
“Thank you. I’ll be keeping them.” Detective Myers said.
“Is there anything else you need?”
“I’ll let you know if I do.”
“I’ll be in the dining hall.” The woman said.
“Thank you. Have a good evening.”
“You too….”
She walked towards Jane. They flashed each other a cordial
smile as the descended the staircase. Her eyes were fixed on Detective Myers.
“Good evening, Detective,” she spoke first. “Are you here—”
“Long time, no see,” he said, turning his intense eyes towards her. Jane’s heart skipped a beat, and she stared at him blankly. “Are you going to be a stranger?”
“I’m seeing you after five years, and the last time I saw you…well, you broke up with me.”
“You know I had to. They transferred me to Exeter.”
“Exeter is not on Mars. We could’ve stayed in touch,” Jane said.
“I don’t do long distance,” he said. “And, you and I both know we’re better friends than lovers.”
“Lovers,” Jane repeated.
“Why are you doing here at this hour?” he asked. His eyes held hers in a calculated stare.
“I work here,” she replied, smoothing out the creases on her cardigan.
“I heard. You’re the new biology teacher.” He held the railing for support and moved out of Jane’s way.
Jane nodded. “Were you examining Mr. Greene’s room?”
Jane saw the outline of something hard in Detective Myers’ pocket. The mobile phone. Her eyes went to the room. It was locked. He hadn’t been in there. Yellow tape crossed over the door.
“Why did you quit?” Ah, he had gotten straight to the point. The light from the ceiling fell directly on his face, illuminating the hard edges of his jaw and cheekbones. His eyes were hollow and his lips dark. She saw a semblance of the man she used to work with in the middle-aged detective.
“You’ve started smoking,” she said instead.
“You noticed.”
“Are there no attractive women in Tenterden to keep you company?” Jane asked.
“Only cows,” he said with a sardonic twist of his lips.
“And you’re not interested in them?”
“I have standards.”
That elicited a smile from Jane. Gary took a step to the left. Jane noticed the slight limp when he moved.
“What happened to your leg?”
“As observant as ever.”
“You’re going to tell me you fell down the stairs?”
