April Fool Dead

by Carolyn Hart

  Annie didn’t bother to look toward the house. A neighbor across the inlet would not need a motorboat to reach Kay’s house. That was the extra fact known only to Annie and Max. And to Laurel, of course. Someone in a motorboat tried to shoot Laurel on the night Kay was killed. On the night, in fact, that Kay was shot to death. That could not be a coincidence. Laurel must have come near a motorboat carrying Kay’s killer.

  Max was hoping Pete Garrett would quickly solve the murder, then Laurel would be safe.

  “If Kay didn’t do those flyers…” Annie realized two facts at once, two terrifying realities: If Kay Nevis didn’t have anything to do with the flyers, Pete Garrett was looking in all the wrong places for a determined, clever and canny murderer and Laurel was in deadly danger. But who had reason to kill Kay? “All right, Henny. You knew Kay Nevis, knew her well. If no one in her family wanted to kill her and if there isn’t a secret in her personal life, what’s left?”

  Twelve

  ANNIE WALKED FAST. It was her natural gait. Moreover, the faster she walked up the crushed-oyster-shell path, the less time it gave her to think about (a) getting thrown out of Broward’s Rock High School, home of the Island Cougars; (b) ending up in jail for messing in a police investigation; and (c) carrying out a brazen plan that depended on chutzpah worthy of Selma Eichler’s Manhattan P.I. Desiree Shapiro.

  Annie’s heart thudded. Why had she ever agreed to do this? But it wasn’t simply that Henny was persuasive and an old friend and a woman whom Annie respected. Annie was motivated by a cold edge of fear. Pete was ferreting out everything there was to know about the people accused in the flyers. What if Pete was wrong? What if Kay Nevis had nothing to do with the flyers? What if the teacher’s death was, as Henny insisted, orchestrated by the person who created the flyers, thereby providing the subsequent murder investigation with a list of suspects? If that was so, the murderer might go to great lengths to make certain Laurel didn’t divulge her knowledge of the boat without running lights.

  Annie reached the main walk to the school, an L-shaped, two-story buff brick building. The parking lot was behind her. A soccer field stretched to her left. Built in the fifties, the school looked old-fashioned, not much different from the one Annie had attended in Amarillo, except for the row of palmetto palms and the softly green water of the Sound. Annie had been inside the building several times since Rachel came to live with them. Most recently, she’d helped out for a fund-raiser for the tennis team. The bake sale, used books and collectibles had been in the gym, which made up the short stem of the L.

  A circular drive curved in front of the main entrance. Bright red tulips bloomed in a round bed. High in the air, Old Glory and the South Carolina flag rippled sluggishly in the gentle breeze. Annie reached the top of the wide shallow front steps and stopped, staring at the big red doors. She glanced at her watch. Twenty minutes to eleven. Rachel had mentioned there were two lunch periods. Annie was pretty sure she’d arrived before the first one. She took a deep breath, pulled open the door.

  A poster sat on a tripod in the vestibule. The message was clear:

  ALL VISITORS REPORT

  IMMEDIATELY

  TO THE OFFICE

  Rm. 101

  A red arrow pointed to the right.

  Annie obediently turned into the hall to her right. None of her earlier visits to the school had included a stop at the office. At the first door, another poster on a tripod announced: OFFICE.

  Annie opened the door, stepped inside. On the other side of a brown wooden counter, three desks were occupied: a bony woman with iron-gray hair peered intently at a computer, a faded redhead flicked through a stack of cards and a plump, round-faced woman with mounds of dark curly hair tapped her desk with a pen while she listened on the phone. There were several offices on either side of the open work area. Nameplates were attached to the doors.

  Annie remembered Henny’s instructions: “…decent guy…treats women with great courtesy…don’t hesitate to ask for help…big on family…let him see you’re stressed…”

  Annie had no difficulty looking stressed. She was there under totally false pretenses, despite Henny’s assurances that Kay’s daughter had given Henny carte blanche and Henny was deputizing Annie. As Henny saw it, all Annie had to do was announce she represented Kay’s family and everything would be easy.

  Annie cleared her throat. It was easy to fall off the Empire State Building if you climbed over the guardrails and jumped from a parapet. “Hello.”

  The plump woman looked up, smiled, waved her pen at the redhead. “Janine, will you help her?”

  The slender redhead gave Annie a languid glance. “Yes?”

  “I wonder if I might speak with Dr. Allensworth?” There, she’d done it, asked to see the principal. Annie was committed now to playing out the charade that she was at the school on behalf of Kay’s daughter. “Mrs. Nevis’s daughter asked me to come.” Annie was so immersed in her effort that it took her a moment to realize all three women were staring at her.

  The dark-haired woman tugged on a curl, spoke rapidly into the phone: “Yes. Please tell Mrs. Thornton that the high school called about her son’s absences. Please ask her to call us at her earliest convenience. Thank you.” And she plopped down the receiver and pushed back her chair. “Is something wrong with Mrs. Nevis? We called the house this morning when she didn’t arrive, but there wasn’t any answer. I left a message.”

  It had never occurred to Annie that the school didn’t yet know about Kay’s death. Annie had assumed the police would have been to the school. Perhaps that would yet take place. But Kay Nevis died at her home and the investigation was focused there. The fact that the school hadn’t been contacted was simply more proof that the investigation was directed toward the people accused in the flyers. Henny was not only confident that Kay had nothing to do with the flyers, Henny believed the creator of the flyers was quite likely someone at the school and that Kay’s murder must have grown out of some incident at school. Henny had put it somberly, “School was her life, Annie. That’s where she spent most of her time. She had no family on the island. She lived on an isolated inlet. The answer has to lie at school. And we’ve got to find it.”

  Right this minute Annie scrambled for an answer to the secretary’s question. Annie couldn’t simply announce that a teacher well known to these women had been shot to death.

  The round-faced woman, who had a face made for laughter and good times, slowly rose, walked heavily toward the counter. “Something’s happened, hasn’t it? Something bad.”

  Annie’s hand tightened on the strap of her shoulder bag. “I’d better—please, I should speak with Dr. Allensworth.”

  In the silence, Annie was terribly aware of the worried faces turned toward her. The secretary swung about, hurried to the principal’s door. In the tense silence, the sound of the knock was shocking. She opened the door. “Dr. Allensworth. There’s a woman here to see you. Something’s happened to Mrs. Nevis.”

  The gray-haired woman, her dark face creased with concern, hurried from her desk to open the gate at the end of the counter. She stood aside for Annie.

  When Annie reached the open doorway, Gerald Allensworth was coming around his desk, a tall, angular black man with a narrow, sensitive face. He was a little over six feet tall and fence-rail thin, his gray suit coat loose on his shoulders, his trousers flapping around his ankles. He pushed horn-rim glasses higher on a bony nose above a thin black mustache flecked with silver. “Is there illness? This is most irregular. Someone should have called.”

  “Dr. Allensworth.” Annie stepped inside, pulled the door shut. “I’m Annie Darling.” Annie didn’t give him a chance to respond. She wanted this moment over with. “Mrs. Nevis’s daughter asked me to come. I have bad news. Mrs. Nevis was shot to death last night at her house. The police are looking for the murderer.”

  And so am I, she thought. But you aren’t to know that. Annie didn’t know what to do or say next. She hoped for inspiration and wished h
er heart would stop pounding as if she’d run a race.

  Allensworth lifted long, thin hands as if in protest. He stared at her in disbelief.

  “I’m sorry,” she said awkwardly.

  He fumbled to pull a chair closer to his desk, gestured toward it, then walked slowly to his chair, sank into it, his face stricken. “Kay’s dead? Murdered?”

  “I’m sorry.” Annie perched on the hard edge of the yellow oak chair. “It happened last night. Henny Brawley found her body this morning. Henny’s spoken with Mrs. Nevis’s daughter, Charlotte. Henny is handling everything until Charlotte arrives. She’s flying in tomorrow. I’ve been asked to talk to you, to ask for your help.” It was scary how a little piece of truth could be stretched like taffy on a warm day. Or like a rope pulled from a coil. Annie envisioned a noose dangling above her head, pushed the thought away, hurried to speak while Gerald Allensworth was in a state of shock and unlikely to question her status. “The memorial service is scheduled for Monday. If you could direct me to the teachers who knew Kay the best…” She let her voice trail away.

  “Oh, of course. I’ll be glad to help.” He sat up a little straighter in his chair. “I would be proud to speak on behalf of Broward’s Rock High School. I’ve known Kay for almost thirty years. A fine woman. A caring teacher. A woman of high moral principle who always met her responsibilities.”

  Annie wondered what he would think of the possibility that Kay had authored the scurrilous flyers. Perhaps that question could be asked later. She smiled. “The family will be honored to have you as a speaker. Could you suggest one or more of the teachers who knew her well?”

  Allensworth picked up a paperweight, turned it over and over, the leaping cougar within appearing to fly through sea-green space. “Possibly Mrs. Riley, who teaches art. And Mrs. Thompson, algebra. But”—he frowned—“we need to have an assembly. The students mustn’t learn of this terrible tragedy through the media. And I need to speak with someone in authority. I don’t understand why I haven’t been contacted.” Frowning, he placed the crystal weight on the desk and flipped open his Rolodex, found a card. He picked up the phone, punched a number. “Gerald Allensworth here. Broward’s Rock High School. To whom am I speaking?” He listened. “Oh, hello, Billy”—Allensworth’s voice was friendly. Had Billy been a favorite student?—“May I speak with the officer in charge of the investigation into the death of Kay Nevis? Oh, I see. Will you ask him to call me, please? We had not been informed of this dreadful occurrence. I wish to confirm the information I’ve received…oh, a representative of the family is here to make plans for the memorial service…”

  Annie managed to keep a look of pleasant interest on her face. If only Allensworth didn’t feel compelled to identify that representative. She didn’t like to envision Pete Garrett’s expression if he learned Annie was at the school.

  “…and I intend to call an assembly to inform our faculty and students. Can you please give me the details about Mrs. Nevis’s death?”

  Annie wished she could hear what Billy was saying.

  Allensworth picked up a pen, began to make notes, muttering as he listened “…No evidence of a break-in…died as a result of several gunshot wounds…believed to have occurred between ten P.M. and two A.M…. Investigation is continuing…. Oh yes, of course, I’ll be glad to make that request.” He glanced at his wristwatch. “I’ll call an assembly at two o’clock and ask anyone with information concerning her death to contact the police department…. Yes, of course I will do that…. Problem here at school? Absolutely not, Billy. Kay got along well with both faculty and students and certainly had no enemies here. I’m quite certain of that. I know all of us will do everything we can to help in the investigation. Don’t hesitate to call on us…. Yes, Billy, thank you. And I’ll expect to hear from Chief Garrett.” Allensworth was frowning as he hung up.

  Annie scooted the heavy chair forward. The legs screeched against the floor. “Trouble at school—that’s one reason I came, Dr. Allensworth. We know Kay was upset about something here at school—”

  Allensworth’s pointed chin jutted forward, his thin shoulders stiffened. “That seems highly unlikely. Kay would surely have spoken with me had there been a serious problem. And we don’t have the kind of problems…” His voice trailed away. His gaze dropped to his desk.

  Once that might have been true. Schools in the not too distant past had been havens of safety and rationality and order. No more. And no one knew that better than the principal.

  The blinds were closed behind Allensworth, probably because the sunlight would put a glare on the computer screen that sat to the right of his desk. He was computer-literate, a graceless term that everyone in the new century understood. Computer-literate—Emma Clyde saw that as another black mark against Kay. Everyone in a high school knew computers. Even more damning was the information in the flyers that seemed clearly linked to the school: the red Jeep that may have killed Bob Tower, the sad death of Colleen Hamilton.

  Colleen Hamilton. Always a creature of impulse, Annie blurted, “I suppose Kay was worried about Jud Hamilton’s parole.”

  Allensworth’s thin fingers brushed at his mustache. “All of us were worried. I don’t know what we’ll do if he shows up here. He’s a violent man. But that can’t have anything to do with Kay’s death. She and Colleen weren’t close. Jud wouldn’t have any reason to be angry with her.” There was the faintest emphasis on the pronoun.

  Annie spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. “No. I guess he’s mad at Chief Saulter.”

  “That’s what they say,” Allensworth agreed. “Amy Mendoza—she teaches biology—was close to Colleen. Amy said the fellow who claimed to be with Jud, then changed his testimony, was telling everyone there wasn’t any cocaine in his car. I don’t know the ins and outs of it…”

  Annie heard the faint regret in his voice. Gerald Allensworth struck her as a man eager to know everything about those around him. But obviously those at the school knew a great deal more about the background to Jud Hamilton’s conviction than had been reported in The Island Gazette.

  “…but that can’t have anything to do with Kay’s death. Murder…” His voice wavered.

  “Yes, it’s terrible.” Annie stood. “I want you to know that the family appreciates your help. Now, I’d like to find Mrs. Riley and Mrs. Thompson.”

  He pushed back his chair, came around the desk. “Mrs. Jenkins will get you a hall pass and I’ll have her show you to the rooms. You’ll let us know when the service is set?”

  “Yes, of course. At the assembly, please announce that services are pending and there will be an announcement in The Island Gazette.” Annie reached out, shook hands.

  As they stepped out into the office, three strained faces turned toward them. Allensworth cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to have to tell you that Mrs. Nevis was shot to death in her house last night. The police are investigating.” He inclined his head toward Annie. “Mrs. Darling is here for Mrs. Nevis’s family. They are in the process of arranging the service. Mrs. Jenkins”—he glanced at the pale redhead—“please issue Mrs. Darling a visitor’s pass. I would appreciate it if you will show her to Mrs. Riley’s room and Mrs. Thompson’s. Mrs. Otis”—he nodded at the round-faced woman, whose fingers plucked at the silver chain around her neck—“there will be an assembly at two o’clock. Required attendance. I will announce the assembly during first lunch period.”

  “Yes, sir.” She shook her dark hair, cut her eyes toward Annie, large, scared, saddened eyes.

  Annie hurried to the redhead’s desk.

  Mrs. Jenkins picked up a red felt pen. “Your name, please?”

  “Annie Darling.”

  The redhead printed the name in all capital letters on a small rectangular white card, slipped it into a plastic holder with a clip on the back, handed it to Annie.

  Annie took the holder, clipped it to her blouse. “Thank you. Now, perhaps we can go.”

  “Mrs. Darling.” Allensworth pulled off his glasses, gestu
red toward the hall. “We have a substitute in Mrs. Nevis’s room. However, I can ask the class to move to the library if you wish to clean out Kay’s desk.”

  “Her desk?” Annie had a quick memory of the late Cubs baseball broadcaster Harry Carey warning a pitcher against the opposing team’s slugger when the bases were loaded, “Be careful here. Be careful here.” She nodded judiciously. “That’s a very good idea. But perhaps we’d better leave the desk unchanged until the police have had a chance to check everything. However, I’d be glad to take a quick inventory and give that to the family.” How could Pete Garrett complain? Annie felt suffused with righteousness.

  Allensworth nodded his approval. “That’s a good idea. Mrs. Jenkins, please ask the substitute to take the class to the library. Mrs. Darling can inventory the desk, then meet with Mrs. Riley and Mrs. Thompson. And I”—he drew a deep breath—“shall prepare for the assembly.”

  As the students trooped out of Kay Nevis’s classroom, a long-legged blonde in a cerise T-shirt and white shorts leaned close to Annie. “I’ll tell Rachel you’re here. Everybody’s coming to the meeting after school.” She was gone before Annie could answer. Annie decided the girl had to be Christy. The plan to enlist students to seek out the creator of the flyers now seemed like an innocent hope from another world. Annie would have to find Rachel, cancel that gathering. Annie had a gut-deep sense she didn’t want any students poking into the mystery of the flyers. As for the flyers found in Kay’s house, maybe the police would keep that quiet. It certainly wasn’t information Annie intended to provide. Annie felt a flicker of anger. If Henny was right, Kay’s murderer wanted to destroy both her life and her reputation. If Henny was right…

  As the last student left the classroom, Mrs. Jenkins held the door for Annie. She stepped into the classroom, noting the open windows with a view of the marsh and a long pier that led out to a deeper channel. There was a red boathouse at the end of the pier.