Band Room Bash

by Candice Speare Prentice

  I didn’t want Sherry to be thinking about things like. . .you know. Especially since she was interested in my son.

  “Maybe that’s why Ms. Winters is dead,” Sherry said.

  Love triangles. That meant potential hostility. Lots of it. “This is really serious. You shouldn’t—”

  “And Ms. Bickford has a plan,” she announced.

  “A plan? What kind of a plan?”

  “I don’t know. I overheard that when I was in the library, too. You should have heard that librarian.” Sherry giggled. “She hates cops and was bragging that she was questioned and didn’t give in. I don’t think she knows who my dad is.”

  “I guarantee she doesn’t know who your dad is, or you wouldn’t be in there helping her.” I questioned Sherry for more details about Carla, but she had none.

  “There’s an emergency closed-door school board meeting tonight,” she said. “Oh, and one more thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “This is really strange. My dad told me not to eat or drink anything that anyone gives me. Only what I bring to school myself.”

  “Why?” I remembered what Corporal Fletcher had said about socializing at the school.

  “He wouldn’t say, but I already told Tommy.”

  That changed things. The danger wasn’t hypothetical anymore; it was very real.

  “Sherry. . .” I wanted to try to stop her from investigating further.

  “Don’t say it, Mrs. C. You can’t talk me out of it. I’ll call you if I find out anything else.” Then she hung up.

  I pushed the End button on my cell phone. Sherry was right. She could find out things that no one else could. However, the more I learned, the more concerned I was.

  Max made a good point earlier. I would want to know if one of my kids was behaving like Sherry. As much as I dreaded doing it, I had to let Detective Scott know she was pursuing her investigation.

  In the meantime, I needed to add to my notes. I got my clue notebook and awkwardly balanced it on the purse on my knees. I added, Connie and Georgia had a big fight in the library. Georgia made Connie get off the computer. Possible love triangle between Georgia, Marvin, and Connie. Carla has a plan. Detective Scott told Sherry not to eat or drink at the school.

  I paused to reflect on that last point. Did that mean that Georgia hadn’t been bashed in the head? Maybe she’d been poisoned? I tapped my pen furiously on the paper, rereading everything I’d written.

  I was flipping through my pages when a tap on the window made me jump. I looked up and saw Corporal Fletcher standing there in his uniform.

  “Hey,” I said, after I rolled down the window.

  “Hi, Mrs. C. You okay?”

  “Yep.”

  He looked at the notebook in my hand then back up at me with a sharpened gaze. “Keeping notes?”

  I slapped the notebook shut. “Yes. Now perhaps you can tell me why I should avoid socializing at the school.” He cleared his throat and wouldn’t meet my eyes.

  “Just trust me, Mrs. C.”

  “You mean, like don’t ingest anything anyone gives me?”

  “Um, yeah.”

  The way the cops had to pussyfoot around irritated me.

  After glancing over the top of my SUV, he rubbed his shoe on the pavement then met my gaze. “Listen, Sarge is a good guy, really.”

  “Well, you couldn’t prove it by me,” I said irritably.

  “He’s worried and under a great deal of pressure to solve this case.” Corporal Fletcher sighed. “I shouldn’t talk about this, but he, um, really likes your friend.”

  “Really? Well that’s too bad. I wouldn’t wish him on anyone.”

  “Come on, Mrs. C. That’s a little harsh.”

  “Well, he was really rude to me today.”

  “He’s worried about you and about Sherry.”

  “Then he should say that instead of acting like a jerk.”

  The corporal shook his head. “You know what our jobs are like. We aren’t trained to be sweethearts.”

  “Maybe not, but I still don’t like it.”

  “Listen, you only see his cop side. Really, he’s a great guy. A lot of fun to be around.” Corporal Fletcher was so earnest.

  “Abbie thinks he’s going to get even with her for turning him down. Like not helping her research her books anymore.”

  “That’s not like him at all.”

  “Well, after we had our discussion this afternoon, and he found out I knew about Abbie, he immediately went and pulled Tommy in for questioning.”

  “One had nothing to do with the other.” He leaned toward me. “He wouldn’t hurt her. He likes her a lot.” He eyed me with one slightly raised brow.

  I met his gaze, and the truth finally dawned on me. “You want us to play matchmaker, don’t you? I can’t believe you. No. I don’t think so, Corporal Fletcher. You don’t know Abbie. She’s—”

  He put his arms behind his back and stared at me with no expression.

  “Oh yeah,” I said. “Go hide behind your blank cop look. I’m a mother. I can read minds.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched. “He makes good money. He owns his own house. He’s stable.” He winked at me. “He thinks your friend is a knockout.”

  “He thinks Abbie is. . .well, I have to agree. I’m glad he noticed, because she is. But, really. He has an angry daughter. He’s annoyingly persistent. He carries a gun, and he has irregular hours.”

  “Mmm,” was all Corporal Fletcher said.

  “Mmm,” I imitated him. “I hate it when you guys mmm.” Then a sudden thought crossed my mind. “Did Detective Scott request to be Abbie’s consultant?”

  For a moment, I didn’t think Corporal Fletcher would answer. Then he nodded.

  Perhaps the corporal was right. If Detective Scott wanted to see Abbie that badly, she should at least go out with him. Maybe he would be nicer to me if he was dating her.

  “So?” Corporal Fletcher asked.

  “Oh, okay. Fine. I’ll give it some thought.” I eyed him. “So, while you’re being so friendly and all, how close are you to solving the murder?”

  The amused look in his eyes died. “It’s an ongoing investigation.”

  “I know, but why would someone kill Georgia?”

  Corporal Fletcher stood taller and put his hands to his side. “Mrs. C., you know better. I can’t talk about that.”

  “Not even just saying yes or no? Like, if I ask a question, you could just nod or shake your head?”

  “Not even,” he said.

  “Figures,” I grumbled. “Well, I’m keeping my ears open, anyway.”

  “What have you heard?”

  “Is that fair?” I said to the corporal. “You won’t tell me anything, but you expect me to share?”

  “You should tell us anything you know that could be useful,” he droned.

  I shrugged. “I have very little information, but I plan to talk to some other people.” I took a deep breath. “Sherry is still insisting on asking questions, too, even though her father told her not to.” I felt like a traitor.

  “That young lady has real issues.” The corporal leaned against my SUV. “If you know that for sure, I should tell Sarge she’s still up to that.”

  “I agree. Better you tell him than me. Corporal Fletcher, I’m a mom, and despite how irresponsible Detective Scott thinks I am, I don’t want anyone’s kid in danger.”

  “He doesn’t think that, and neither do I.”

  “Earlier today he implied I lacked good judgment.”

  “He was just frustrated. Really, we just think you’re. . .” He stuck his thumb in his belt. “Well, we think you’re overzealous.”

  I had to smile at that. “That’s a nice way to say that I’m terribly annoying. All right. I’ll let you know if I find out anything important.”

  The front door of the building opened, and Max and Calvin Schiller strode out onto the sidewalk and headed toward the parking lot.

  Corporal Fletcher straig
htened, a frown etching deep lines in his forehead. “I gotta tell you this one more time, Mrs. C. You investigating this is not a good idea.”

  “Why not?” I asked.

  “I don’t have to tell you that. You know exactly what can happen when a murderer gets mad.”

  Chapter Eleven

  When I walked into the self-storage office on Thursday morning, Shirl greeted me with a toothpaste commercial smile. That was unusual. Stranger still, I saw books on her desk that weren’t her usual bodice-ripping fare. But the oddest thing of all was the lineup of assorted sizes of bottles and plastic bags filled with dried green and brown weedy-looking stuff.

  “Hope the cops don’t come by. It looks like you’re dealing drugs.” I grabbed the mail. “I assume these are legal?”

  She sniffed and waved her arm over the assembled plastic containers. “These are herbs.” She pronounced the H. “They’re going to keep me from having to ever use pharmaceutical drugs again.”

  Pharmaceutical. That was a big word. I glanced over her collection and wondered if one of them was black cobash.

  She tapped the stack of books. “I’m studying these now. That’s where I’ve been going at lunch. To classes. My pharmacist teaches them.”

  “Oh.” I thumbed through the envelopes looking for bills to pay.

  She narrowed her eyes and stared at me. “You really do look like you could use something. You’re pale and puffy, and you look tense. There’s herbs for that, too, you know.”

  “Puffy?” I looked at my fingers. “I’m puffy?”

  She looked me up and down. “Your ankles maybe. It could just be all the weight you’ve gained, but you’re probably holding water, too.”

  “All the weight I’ve gained? Are you saying my ankles are fat?” I knew my pants were tight, but. . .

  Shirl stared pointedly at my hips. “Well, it’s to be expected. Mr. C. said you’re eating like three times as much as normal.”

  “He said that?”

  Before Shirl could answer, she was distracted by someone outside. “Now who is that, I wonder?”

  I didn’t care. I had my leg extended so I could stare at my ankle. It did look swollen. I had to call Max right away and ask him if he thought I was fat. Was that why he was avoiding me lately?

  Shirl squinted. “That guy out there sure looks familiar, but he hasn’t been here before, I know that. I know all of our customers by sight and name.”

  Finally, I turned and peered through the large front window at the man getting out of his car. I would have recognized his lanky frame anywhere.

  “It’s Marvin Slade,” I said to Shirl.

  “Marvin Slade?” Shirl stood and leaned over the counter to stare at him as he walked up the sidewalk to the front door. “Name sounds familiar.”

  “It should. He’s the band director at the high school.”

  Shirl harrumphed. “One of the suspects, you mean.”

  Marvin met my gaze through the glass as he grabbed the doorknob.

  Shirl was breathing hard. “We need to get him out of here as quickly as possible, Mrs. C. We don’t need murderers coming. . .”

  “Hi, Marvin,” I said over her voice. “What can we do for you?”

  “I’m just here to check something in Connie’s new storage unit. Costume stuff.” He pulled a shiny key from his pocket. “I have the key and the code to get through the gate. Is it okay for me to go in there?”

  “As long as you have the key and the code, you can go into the unit.”

  Shirl made noises behind me, clearing her throat, and opening a file drawer and slamming it, but I ignored her.

  “Is Connie okay?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “How should I know?”

  “Well, that’s what I thought,” Shirl said. We both turned toward her.

  She waved a contract in my face. “Connie’s got Georgia down as her emergency contact, not Marvin.”

  He swallowed and turned his watery gaze on me.

  I felt sorry for him and wanted to agree with what my daughter had said. This man couldn’t possibly be a murderer. Still, some of the worst killers in history looked and acted harmless in public.

  “What does that mean?” he asked. “I can’t go in?”

  Shirl sniffed. “Well—”

  “It’s fine,” I said to Shirl. “You know the rules. When someone has the key, they can go in. Besides, I’m part of all this, too, because of the play.” I turned to him. “You can go in. You’ve got my permission.”

  Marvin’s wide, bony shoulders were hunched over as if he were in pain. He looked like a hound dog someone had hit with salt pellets from a shotgun. He smiled weakly at me. “I don’t know where her units are.”

  “I’ll show you.” I motioned to the door. “I’ll walk up there. Once you get through the gate, you can follow me in your car.”

  As I walked behind him to the front door, Shirl jumped up from her chair and it hit the desk with a bang.

  “Now I know where I saw you,” she blurted out. “At the pharmacy. Night before last, around seven.”

  Marvin turned and eyed her over my shoulder as though she were a stalker. I didn’t blame him.

  “Shirl has a memory for faces,” I explained. “That’s why she’s so good at her job here.” I didn’t bother to tell him she could rival my mother for collecting gossip and facts about people.

  “Oh.” He still looked at her with drawn brows. “Well, I’ll be going then.” He edged toward the door.

  “You be careful,” Shirl said. “What with your heart and all, we wouldn’t want you to keel over dead in the parking lot.”

  My mouth dropped open, probably in a good imitation of Marvin’s. Whatever herbs Shirl was taking seemed to have short-circuited what little control she normally had on her mouth. I had my back to her, so when Marvin glanced at me with wide eyes, I rolled mine toward the ceiling and mouthed, “I’m sorry.”

  He dipped his head in acknowledgment, turned, and left without further comment.

  “He’s a weirdo,” Shirl said behind me.

  It takes one to know one, as my mother would say. I faced her. “How do you know he has a heart problem?”

  “I heard him talking to my new pharmacist about some kind of heart medicine.”

  “And you just stood there and listened?”

  She shrugged. “Can’t help but overhear things, the place is so small.”

  “Well, why is he a weirdo?”

  “He’s known as a ladies’ man. Now that I’ve seen him, I’m shocked. Can you believe it, the way he looks with that bald head and elf ears? I heard he’s always dating someone.” Shirl shook her head. “Makes you wonder what he’s got going for himself. Can you imagine?”

  No, I couldn’t. Nor did I want to.

  “I’m going to show him where Connie’s unit is.” I twisted the knob on the front door.

  “If you’re not back in five minutes, I’m calling the cops and coming up there with a baseball bat. I keep one in my car, you know.” Shirl opened a large tote bag and began stuffing her various bottles and bags into its depths. “You shouldn’t be alone with a murderer.”

  “We don’t know he’s a murderer.”

  “And we don’t know he isn’t. I’ll tell you what. There’s just something not right about a man like that. Ugly as a catfish but gets women. You mind my words. It’s a black widower thing. Some kind of attraction that normal women can’t feel, but the victims. . .they’re needy.”

  “Shirl!”

  “You know it’s true. Now, if he looked like Mr. C., I could understand it. I mean all the women swoon over him. He’s as nice as he is good-looking. You should hear what they say when he walks away, especially about his. . .” She glanced quickly at me then away again. “Well, anyway, he just gets better looking as time goes by. I’m surprised you don’t have to put a ball and chain on him to keep him from wandering.”

  Just what I needed to hear when I was already feeling fat and undesirable. Unwelcome feelings
of insecurity crammed my mind with pictures of model-like women swarming all over my husband. And me with my tight maternity pants, fat behind, and swollen ankles. Why hadn’t I noticed I was gaining that much weight? I had to get away from Shirl because I had a sudden urge to cry.

  I met Marvin at the entrance to the climate-controlled building and showed him how to use the code. We stepped inside, and I pointed to Connie’s units, keeping a good five feet between us. I intended to question him, and if he made a move toward me, I would be able to escape. My first goal was to determine which of the two women he had been interested in.

  “I’m really sorry about your loss,” I said.

  His forehead wrinkled in a frown. “My loss?”

  “Um, yeah. Georgia?” I backed up a few steps toward the door, getting ready to run if I had to.

  He blinked. “Why would I care about her? All she did was make people’s lives miserable. Well, at least Connie’s.”

  He sounded angry. I pressed my body against the door. “Have you seen Connie lately?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Why do you want to know?”

  I shrugged. “Just wondered. So, are you on your break or lunch or something?”

  “Break?” he asked.

  “Yeah. I’m surprised you aren’t at school today.”

  His eyes flashed with annoyance. “Yeah, a break.” This wasn’t going to be productive at all, and he was making me nervous.

  Suddenly, his eyes met mine, and his face darkened with anger. “I know what you’re doing.”

  “You do?”

  “You’re trying to solve this mystery, aren’t you? I’ve heard about you.”

  I stepped backward toward the door until I felt it against my back.

  “I didn’t kill her,” he said.

  I groped behind me for the door handle. “Um, that’s great. I’m glad. You could go to jail for that. And be executed. . .and all.” Shirl’s words about him being a murderer kept ringing in my head. “Do you need anything else?”

  He shook his head. “No, nothing. I’m fine. Thank you.”

  I yanked the door open, rushed down the parking lot, and flung open the door to the office.

  Shirl looked up from her computer. “Well? Did he try to kill you?