“I don’t know how long it’s been missing.”
The detectives seemed unimpressed until Van de Sant threw down his trump card.
“I wouldn’t have said anything if it hadn’t been his. William’s. It seems significant. It was the award William won earlier this year. He wanted to share it with the Danbury community so he asked it be kept here.”
He wanted to show it off, Van de Sant thought. The insecure prick wanted everybody to see he’d been honored. He probably was worried Olivia would throw it away if he left it at home. She had impeccable taste, and it was a particularly garish trophy—a crystal column with William Abernathy’s name etched in it. FOR EXCELLENCE IN THE COMMUNITY.
“How long ago did he get it?” the younger detective asked, peering at the case.
“About two months, maybe. I can have my assistant get the specific date for you if you’d like. The ceremony was here at Danbury.”
“Was it open to the public or by invitation only?”
“We don’t ever open anything to the general public.” The dean tried to smile kindly at the clueless detective. “This was no exception. It was attended by the usual representatives of the Danbury community. Olivia and both their daughters were there, of course.” Van de Sant thought back to the ceremony and party. Alcohol flowed, but only those with addiction issues overindulged. The speeches were witty and warm. Abernathy was surprised, delighted, and humbled, blah, blah, blah. The man had annoyingly straight, white teeth. He must have spent a fortune on dental treatments.
“So William Abernathy was well liked?”
“Mr. Abernathy was very respected in the community,” Van de Sant told the detectives. He hoped they were buying his sincerity. “His presence will be sorely missed.”
He didn’t mention Abernathy and his wife left the event separately. People had no idea what he was capable of. If they knew the truth, he would have been run out of town. The award was ironic at best. Abernathy was anything but a good man. Van de Sant knew it. He bore his own guilt where the man was concerned.
22. WHERE ALL BODIES ARE BURIED
A faint rumbling sound echoed through the empty hallway, bouncing off the plaster walls and polished terrazzo floors. Then, a squeal of delight. Mason ran full throttle, pushing a library cart with Kaylee sitting on top. She was laughing and holding on for deal life as he zigzagged along. “Stop!” she yelled. But she didn’t want him to. He pointed the cart toward a water fountain and headed straight for it. Kaylee closed her eyes. “I know you won’t hit it. I know you won’t!”
She was right. He switched direction at the last minute and then hopped on the back, standing on the bottom shelf. But his weight made it wobble and he had to get off, holding on until the cart slowed to a stop. Kaylee grabbed him and hugged him. “You could’ve gotten me killed. Or injured, or something. How would I have explained to my parents that I had an accident with a water fountain?”
“You’d just blame me and they’d believe you.”
“Good point.”
They kissed and Mason lifted her from the cart to standing.
“I love being in the school when it’s empty like this.” Kaylee walked down the hall, gazing at the glass cases filled with photos, trophies, and plaques from years gone by. There were at least twenty black-and-white pictures of men in baggy knee-length golf pants with huge caps on their heads, standing arm and arm and grinning like idiots. Other pictures showed football players in what passed for padding back in the 1920s. “It makes you realize how old everything is. How much history there is.”
“You should see the attic.”
“I want to see the attic. I want to see all the secret stuff.”
“You should talk to my dad. He knows where all the bodies are buried.”
“Really? Like what?”
“I don’t know. Just the normal stuff.”
“You can’t tease me with that and then not give me details.”
“Okay. Let me think. Like, you know the French teacher Ms. Melkanoff? She keeps a bottle of schnapps in her desk.”
“I thought schnapps was German.”
“You’re missing the point.”
“What else? I need more.”
“Mr. Simmons, the Algebra teacher, was having an affair with Miss Campbell. He would leave her love letters in her desk.”
“Eeeew. He’s like, a gorilla.”
“I believe the word is hirsute.”
“I thought the word was gross.” She leaned over and pushed Mason against the trophy case. “I like that we have the whole place to ourselves. We could do anything, anywhere.” They kissed. When she opened her eyes, she focused on something behind him. “Weird.”
He turned and followed her gaze. “What?”
“We’re making out in front of my dad’s award.” She pointed to a crystal spike etched with her father’s name.
“How was he excellent in the community?” Mason asked as he read the inscription.
“Something to do with brokering a deal to bring a factory to town. And then the school somehow decided since he was a grad here and on the board, they should make a fuss over it.”
“That’s odd.”
“That’s my dad.”
“Yeah. He’s not my favorite person.”
“Me neither.”
“He fools people, doesn’t he? Everybody thinks he’s some saint.”
“He did help bring the factory to town.”
“I wonder how many people he paid off to do it.”
“Probably lots.”
Mason considered her. “You’re pretty great for somebody with such a nutso father.”
“Is that right?”
“That is totally right.” He took his time kissing her. “You know what I’m going to do?”
Kaylee shook her head.
“I’m going to go get the keys to the attic and show you where the skeletons are hidden.” He started to walk away but then turned back. “Real skeletons. I’m not kidding. There’s one up there from like, 1943. Wait here.”
Kaylee smiled and nodded. When Mason was gone, she turned her attention back to her father’s award. She opened the case and took it out, feeling the weight in her hands. After a brief look around, she slipped it into her bag. She had just shut the door to the case as Mason returned.
“You ready to meet Chubby?”
“Chubby?”
“The skeleton.”
23. DADDY’S LITTLE GIRL
“So you think someone stole the award and killed William with it?” Olivia sat with Anne. She shook her head. “Can you tell if he defended himself? Did he fight back?”
“We don’t know anything yet.” The female detective said gently.
“Was it one quick blow or was he beaten?”
“Mom, please.” Anne clearly did not like the images that were flashing in her head. “Do we really need to know that?”
“Wouldn’t you feel better if you knew it was quick?”
Anne stared at her mother a moment, a response on the tip of her tongue. But she decided to hold back. She turned to the detectives and changed the subject to something less emotionally charged. “If someone used the award to kill my father, that would be significant, right? Like someone was trying to make a point?” Anne asked. Olivia rolled her eyes and interjected, “I’m no expert, but in general, when someone kills someone else, they’re making a point.”
The two detectives shared a look. People never ceased to surprise them in how they reacted after a tragedy. That was assuming, of course, this woman thought her husband’s death was a tragedy. “The choice of the murder weapon may be significant,” the female detective explained, focusing her words toward Anne. “However, we don’t have a cause of death yet. Until we have that, we won’t have any idea what the murder weapon might have been. If it’s determined he was bludgeoned to death, we will absolutely look into who had access to the award. And if it was the award, we will certainly look into why that particular weapon was chosen. It coul
d have been used for convenience. . . .”
“But someone stole it from the case. That’s not convenient . . .,” Anne pointed out.
“. . . Or it could have been used because someone else wanted the award.”
That idea disturbed Olivia on a different level. It was pathetic, really, to think that someone might have been so desperate to win a meaningless award that they took revenge on the winner. If the award was the murder weapon, this was a planned attack, not something someone did in the heat of the moment. Passionate anger seemed less threatening than cold-blooded premeditation. “None of this makes any sense,” she told the detectives. “William was well respected and well liked. I don’t know of any enemies he had.” She didn’t say what she was thinking, that she knew of numerous enemies, but none whose identity she was willing to share with the police. He had made many in the business world, but exposing them would mean exposing the family to financial scrutiny, and Olivia did not want that.
“What was Kaylee’s relationship like with her father?” the female detective asked.
“Kaylee loved him.” Anne piped up. “She would never do this to him.”
They had a special relationship, Olivia agreed. “She was Daddy’s little girl.”
The woman detective shot a glance to see if Anne was hurt by a comment that showed such obvious favoritism. Olivia saw the woman’s reaction. “Please don’t misunderstand. He loved both his daughters equally. Both were Daddy’s little girl. It’s just that Kaylee enjoyed the attention more than Anne.”
Anne nodded. “It’s okay. Kaylee was his favorite. I know that. He was still a good father to me.”
“We’ve heard that your father didn’t approve of the relationship with Mason. Do you think it’s possible they did this to him?”
Both Olivia and Anne shook their heads.
“Kaylee would never do this,” Anne said. “And Mason would do what Kaylee said.”
“Mason is not her puppy. He has a mind of his own,” Olivia insisted. “I know you think he’s devoted to your sister, and I don’t doubt he is to some degree, but you can’t ignore the fact that he has a temper. And he’s smart. Smart enough to get that statue and hold on to it until the time was right.”
Anne shook her head. She couldn’t believe her mother was trying to pin this on Mason when she knew of a much more obvious choice. Olivia was feigning ignorance. Who could be more obvious than Mason? She stared at her daughter blankly, but Anne knew her mind was racing. She was willing her to keep silent. Anne had to hand it to her, her mother was brilliant at maintaining a facade. The thing was, she was tired of the facade.
“My mother hated my father,” Anne told the police. “She was cheating on him.”
24. HER FACE SCREAMED GUILT!
Glinda was a bit disappointed her big revelation didn’t get more of a reaction from the detectives. Her info was primo fantastico considering who the dead guy was, but these two took it in stride.
“How did you know Mrs. Abernathy was having an affair?” The younger detective smiled in encouragement. He seemed to like Glinda more than the old dude. It didn’t surprise her. Old dudes generally didn’t approve of her hair. Or her nails. Or her shoes. Or her personality.
“I was cutting class a few months back. When I do that I usually just wander around the school. My mom would say I was looking for trouble, but really I was looking for entertainment. Anything out of the ordinary, you know? When I cut, it’s usually to get out of English Lit. My teacher, Miss White, so appropriately named, by the way, does not have a creative bone in her brittle little body. The woman wears the same outfit every single day of the year, in different colors: tweed jacket, blouse, skirt, and sensible low-heeled shoes. She’s a crime against vision. Anyway. She wants us to write essays the same way she dresses, boring, with the exact same structure every time.”
“About the affair?”
“Right. On that particular day, I’d excused myself to use the restroom, and then decided to take a walk. I was on the administrative area of the school, right outside where we are now. It was during class, so the hall was empty. The door to Dean Van de Sant’s office opened and out walked Kaylee’s mom.”
“Why was that surprising?”
“In itself, it’s no big deal to see a parent coming out of the dean’s office, her in particular. She’s one of those ladies who lunch, you know? She’s on every board and committee. She might have loads of reasons to meet with the dean. But I could tell this wasn’t about some committee.”
“How so?”
“When she saw me, the look that flashed on her face screamed Guilt! And she was smoothing her hair. It had been mussed. You know? Not messy. Mussed.” Glinda said the last word with a salacious tone.
“Did you say anything to her?”
“What was I going to say? ‘Was it good for you?’ I didn’t say anything to her and she didn’t say anything to me. She just got her game face back on and walked by me. I turned to watch her leave. She had a serious strut going, like the hallway was a runway and her dress was part of the new spring collection. Which it wasn’t.”
The younger detective gave a little cough to get Glinda back on track.
“Right. So I’m watching her, and then, behind me, the dean opened the door. He was tucking in his shirt.” Glinda demonstrated what she meant. “He may as well have been zipping his fly.” She laughed at the memory. “He was a little out of breath and looked positively perturbed when he saw me. ‘Shouldn’t you be in class, young lady, getting an education?’ He asked, all uptight.” Glinda did a fair job of mimicking Van de Sant’s formal cadence.
“What did you tell him?” the younger detective asked.
“I told him I was getting an education at that very moment. I knew way more than I had a few minutes before.”
The dean’s eye twitched a little when she’d said that. Ever since then, she’d made sure to give him a wink every time she saw him.
“Yes. I was having an affair with the dead man’s wife,” Van de Sant said with resignation, maintaining his best poker face. He vowed to expel that little monstrosity Glinda the first chance he got. If she so much as littered, he’d boot her. “I realize the implication.”
What an implication it was. Of all the people to get murdered, it had to be his mistress’s husband. Van de Sant knew it looked bad, but he told the detectives the truth. “I did not kill William Abernathy. While Olivia and I are involved, you must understand there is no ill will among the parties. Was no ill will. Bill Abernathy was an agreeable cuckold, one might say. Cuckold in that he was being cheated on.”
“Is that what cuckold means? Gee. I didn’t know.” The older detective’s voice dripped sarcasm.
“He knew his wife had outside relationships. Bill and Olivia had what some might call an open marriage. Please, ask Olivia about the specifics of their agreement. I personally preferred not to hear the details. Olivia and I have been discreet, certainly, but not because of fear of discovery by spouses. We were much more concerned with keeping up appearances in the community.”
“Of course.”
The detective was being adversarial and Van de Sant bristled, but he had to make his case. “Why would I provide you with details about what might be the murder weapon if I were the guilty party? Surely you realize how illogical that would be.”
“Where were you last night?” the younger detective asked.
Van de Sant nodded. Finally, a relevant question. “I was with Olivia. At the EconoLodge off I-Ninety-Five.” The older detective’s face was still, but Van de Sant knew he was judging the choice of accommodations. “Olivia likes it there. We, of course, could go to my home, but a hotel provides a certain anonymity that can be freeing.” Olivia liked a lot of things he didn’t feel the need to share. When he told them about the affair, he thought the detectives might have been a bit impressed. Olivia was a fine specimen of womanhood. Just thinking about her taut body sent a pleasing current through him.
He was at her me
rcy really. The affair had already put him in a compromising position and made him shirk professional responsibility, but he couldn’t bring himself to break it off. Mason Henry should be grateful to Olivia. She’s the only reason he was still a student on campus and not some gangster’s punching bag in a public school. When Mason attacked Jared Slater, Van de Sant was ready to punish him. It would’ve been standard. But Mason’s father had come to him and told him if he kicked Mason out, he would leak the affair between him and Olivia. It was blackmail, pure and simple. Olivia would have been embarrassed by the disclosure, but Van de Sant would have been ruined. The Danbury board of trustees would have fired him. He was good at his job and they respected that, but he was not one of them. Sleeping with someone in their social strata would not be tolerated.
“Why are you even bothering to dredge up this nonsense?” Van de Sant looked at the detectives. “Isn’t it obvious who killed Bill? Surely you don’t think it’s a coincidence that Mason and Kaylee ran away the same night her father was murdered?”
25. WE WEREN’T SCHOOLGIRLS
Olivia watched Anne leave the room after her great declaration about Olivia having an affair. What a little bitch. Olivia knew she wasn’t particularly close with her daughters, but that revelation was really uncalled for.
She turned back to the detectives. “My husband and I have an arrangement. We are, were, good friends who no longer felt the passion of a new relationship, but we didn’t want to divorce and break up our family.”
“So you had affairs?” The older detective seemed completely nonplussed.
“Basically, yes.”
“So your husband, he was having affairs too?”
“I’m sure he wasn’t celibate.”
“Who was he sleeping with?”
Runaways Page 2
