Band Room Bash

by Candice Speare Prentice

“Would I be standing here if he had?” I giggled, but it was from nervousness. “In fact, he assured me he hadn’t killed her.”

  Shirl rolled her eyes. “Mark my words. Something’s up with him.”

  I walked back to my office and fired up my computer, trying to quell the shakiness in my knees. After checking through some e-mails and opening the bills, I had calmed down enough to think logically. Maybe I should look over my notes. I needed to start thinking of intelligent questions to find the answers to.

  A big one: Motive. What reason would the suspects who had access to Georgia have to murder her?

  I looked at my suspect list. I had to find out more about everyone. Including Georgia. But I could jot down a few ideas.

  Marvin Slade—pawning instruments? He had a key. He was there.

  Carla Bickford—has a plan. What plan—is it what she mentioned about upping the school security system?

  Connie Gilbert—angry with Georgia? Why? Fighting over selling the farm?

  Coach Kent Smith—giving kids steroids? Didn’t want Jason kicked off the team?

  No other suspects made sense.

  “That Marvin person is leaving,” Shirl yelled from the other office. “Now what do you suppose he was doing? Hiding a murder weapon?”

  “I doubt it,” I yelled back. I didn’t tell her my suspicions.

  I jotted down, How: Was she murdered with the bassoon, or was it poison?

  I needed to find out more about the people involved in this, and I knew one person who had access to information from all over town.

  I called Doris’s Doughnuts, and my mother answered. She must have seen my name on caller ID. “Trish, I hope this isn’t bad news. I’ve been worried sick about you. Just sick.”

  I felt guilty for leading her on the day before. “I’m fine, Ma. I just have a question for you.”

  “Are you sure you’re fine? You should go to the doctor.”

  “I am. Tomorrow. Listen, I need to know everything you know about Georgia, Marvin Slade, Connie Gilbert, Carla Bickford, and Kent Smith.”

  “Well, hallelujah and pass the offering plate. You are solving this mystery.” I heard her hand rubbing on the receiver as she covered it. “Girls,” she yelled. “You wouldn’t believe it, but Trish is going to solve this mystery.”

  “Ma, please. Don’t advertise the fact.”

  She laughed. “Nobody here is going to tell anyone.”

  Right. And doughnuts are fat free.

  “I’ll do some asking around.” She sounded excited.

  “That would be great. And you’re watching Charlie and Sammie tonight so I can go to Bible study, right?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  Maybe this would put me back in her good graces for a while. I hung up and tucked my steno pad back into my purse. I would go even though I hadn’t finished studying and just fake my way through the study. That made me feel very guilty.

  I picked up Charlie and Sammie from the sitter’s, and Charlie babbled all the way home about getting a pine snake. He’d wanted a snake for a long time now, but I wasn’t ready for a reptile in my house.

  When I pulled into the driveway, I was surprised to see Max’s car. That reminded me of my conversation with Shirl, which reminded me how good-looking Max was and how we’d had so little time together lately. Like he’d been avoiding me.

  Charlie was still trying to convince me as we got out of the SUV.

  “It’s just a little pine snake,” he said.

  “Not right now,” I said as I walked inside the house.

  “But—”

  “No,” I said again. “We’ve talked about this enough, Charlie. I told you, no snake right now.”

  “Maybe I should just go somewhere like a private school to live. Then I could have a snake. I could have anything I wanted.” Charlie stalked past me, through the kitchen, and into the family room.

  Where had that come from? The phone started ringing before I could follow him and discuss his sour attitude. I didn’t need this on top of my raging hormones.

  Max walked into the kitchen. I blew him a kiss and yanked the receiver from the wall. “Hello.”

  “Patricia.”

  Only one person in the world calls me Patricia. Lady Angelica Louise Carmichael Cunningham, otherwise known as Max’s mother. She’s not a literal lady. She just plays one in real life. That’s not nice to say, of course, but she’s not nice. At least not to me. Max was passing behind me with his briefcase.

  “Hello, Angelica.”

  Max put the briefcase on a kitchen chair and held out his hand. “Give me the phone,” he mouthed.

  “Hang on. Max wants to talk to you.” I handed the phone to him.

  Without even so much as a smile, he removed it from my hand.

  “Mother?” he said into the mouthpiece. “I’m on my way to Dad’s office now. . .no.” After a pause, he glanced at me. “No.”

  Max was being more abrupt than usual with his mother. Normally they treated each other with cool dignity and just a touch of affection at special times, like birthdays and Christmas. On occasion he’d get irritated with her and treat her with gentle disdain, much like his father did. The only time I’d ever seen him angry with her beyond reason was when she had insulted me in front of him. She learned quickly. Now she waits until he’s not around. She knows I’m not a sissy, and I’m not going to go whining to my husband. I like to settle my own differences.

  I busied myself doing nothing at the kitchen sink so I could listen, but Max left the room with the phone. I was tempted to follow him. His odd behavior the last few days in combination with this cryptic phone call was enough to make me start a mystery notebook dedicated just to him.

  As I emptied the dishwasher, Karen passed through the kitchen on her way to work. “Hey, Mom, you’re still working on the mystery, right?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Good, because things are getting really bad at school. Mr. Slade wasn’t there today.”

  “What?” I turned around. “He wasn’t there all day?”

  “No.” She opened the door to the garage. “Oh, I’m going to the football game Saturday night. I put it on the calendar.”

  “Sure, that’s fine.”

  She left, closing the door gently behind her, and I turned back to the sink. Why had he led me to believe he had been at school today?

  Karen’s mention of the football game gave me an idea. Maybe I could collect clues there.

  When Max returned to the kitchen, I stood in his path. “I’m going to the football game on Saturday. You want to go?”

  Max raised one eyebrow. “You don’t like football.” He knew exactly why I wanted to go to the game.

  I stuck my chin in the air. “I think I should support the school right now, given everything that’s going on.”

  “Right,” he said. “Yes, I’ll go. If for no other reason than to keep an eye on you.”

  “That would be great.” I paused. “Max, are you still attracted to me?”

  He blinked. “Why would you ask me that?”

  “Because Shirl said that you said I was eating three times as much as normal.”

  He laughed. “You are.” He slipped his arm around me and pulled me into a hug. I opened my mouth to protest, but he leaned down and cut me off with a kiss. When Max sets out to deflect my attention, he does a great job.

  It wasn’t until after he’d left to take the kids to my parents’ house that I realized he’d also deflected my attention from asking more about his mother’s phone call.

  During Bible study at church, one of the women brought up the scripture from Romans about food and eating, “If your brother is distressed because of what you eat, you are no longer acting in love.” The group discussed this at some length, and I tried to fake my way through, but I was distracted by all the other things on my mind and couldn’t concentrate. I didn’t understand what that had to do with a lesson on the fruit of the Spirit, particularly love. Afterward, as I was leaving,
Marion, the leader, called to me. My stomach clenched, thinking she noticed somehow that I hadn’t done my work. I hated to disappoint her, she was so nice.

  “Trish, I’m glad I caught you.”

  I smiled.

  “I just want you to know how sorry I am that you’re involved in such a tragedy. I spoke with Georgia on numerous occasions about the Lord when I went to visit her and Nettie, and I’m confident that no matter how horribly she died, she is now rejoicing in heaven.”

  My heart felt instantly lighter. I hadn’t realized how badly not knowing that had bothered me.

  “I’m on the school board, you know.” She leaned closer to me. “I’m telling you this just to keep you from worrying about your children. Coach Smith and Marvin Slade have been put on administrative leave.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.” She patted my arm. “Just know that I’m praying for you.”

  As I left the church, I felt warmed by her compassion, but that the feeling was mixed with anger. Why had Marvin led me to believe he was going into Connie’s storage unit for school play purposes if he was on administrative leave?

  Chapter Twelve

  One of the worst parts of pregnancy is the frequent doctor visits toward the end. Since I was starting my ninth month, I was now going each Friday morning to be poked and prodded in personal places. The paper gown felt rough on my skin as I pulled myself up on the examining table. I determinedly avoided looking at my ankles. I was glad I couldn’t see my rear end.

  I wanted to distract myself from my fat flaws by rechecking my steno pad, but it was across the room in my purse, and I didn’t feel like clambering off the table to get it.

  I heard a knock. “Come in.”

  Dr. Williams breezed in and smiled at me. Her gray-haired bob was cut just below her ears. “So, Trish, how are you feeling?” She motioned for me to get into position.

  “Oh, pretty rotten, really,” I said. “I’m exhausted. My ankles look fat. My pants are tight. And I’m really cranky.”

  “That good, hmm?” When she was done with her exam, she patted my knee and told me to sit up. “Things look great with the baby. Right on target, although you need to remember that you had Sammie a couple of weeks early.” She slipped her gloves off and dropped them into the wastebasket. “Everything you’ve mentioned is perfectly normal for most women. However, you’ve gained more weight than I would have liked. Especially within the last few weeks. I know you were thin to begin with, but gaining this much weight isn’t good.”

  I wanted to sink through the floor. “Are you saying I’m fat?”

  “I want you to stop eating for two now.” She made a note on my chart. “Just cut out the sweets. That should do it.” She closed my folder. “Do you have any other questions for me?”

  “Yes. Would herbal teas help me?”

  From Dr. Williams’s immediate frown and the way she put her hands on her hips, I might as well have said, “Do you mind if I sniff glue?”

  “Do not use anything like that unless you check with me first,” she ordered. “Herbs. . .and drugs can be dangerous to babies. In fact, they can be dangerous, period, if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

  I was discouraged. Even my doctor thought I was fat. To distract myself, I decided to hit up some places for advertising on my way back to the office. I started at the Shopper’s Super Saver. Then I stopped at Bo’s Burger Barn, where I bought some onion rings to soothe my emotions. The doctor had said no sweets. She hadn’t said no onion rings.

  I ended my trip at the dry cleaners where I always take Max’s suits. The owner’s daughter, a cute teenager, was behind the counter and smiled at me as I walked in. “Hey, Mrs. C.”

  “Hi.” I put my purse on the counter and explained why I had come.

  “I think Dad’s already helping,” she said. “We dry-cleaned some of the costumes for the play for free. Mr. Slade came and picked them up.”

  “He did? When?”

  She bit her lip and thought. “Well, it wasn’t yesterday, because I wasn’t here. It was probably Wednesday.”

  The day before he came out to Four Oaks Self- Storage. Was he helping Connie work on costumes even though he was on leave? I shifted my purse strap to my other shoulder.

  The owner’s daughter put her elbows on the counter. “You know, Mr. Slade acted really weird.”

  “Like how?”

  “Well, I found some papers in the pockets of the clothes and put them aside like I always do. Dad drilled that into me for years and years. When Mr. Slade came, I handed them to him. He got all upset and grabbed them from my hands.”

  “Really? What were the papers?”

  She shrugged. “Dunno. They just looked like receipts to me, and maybe some bills.”

  “Were all the clothes costumes?”

  She frowned at me. “Dunno.” Her gaze flickered over my shoulder as a buzzer signaled someone entering the shop. There probably wasn’t much more she could tell me, anyway.

  “Thank you,” I said. “And I’ll make sure to mention in the program that your father is helping.”

  “Thanks.” She turned to the new customer.

  My cell phone rang as I got into my car.

  “Hello.”

  “Mrs. C.!” Heavy breathing wooshed through the receiver. “You wouldn’t believe what just happened!”

  “Shirl? Stop yelling. I can’t understand you.”

  “The police were all over the place!”

  “What?”

  “The place was crawling with cops. Looked like an FOP meeting or something.”

  “FOP. . .what is. . .never mind. Just tell me what’s going on.” I turned the key in the ignition, my heart pounding.

  “They searched Connie’s units. All of them.” Shirl was breathing so hard, it sounded like she was standing in a windstorm.

  “I’m on my way.” I started to put my SUV in reverse.

  “Wait!” she said.

  “Shirl—”

  “Just hang on. You shouldn’t drive when you talk on the phone. You know how deadly that can be. It’s bad enough people are keeling over at the high school and—”

  “I’m about to get irritated with you,” I said. “I want to know what’s going on right now.”

  “Hang on.” She paused.

  “Shirl?”

  “Just hang on, I said. Mr. C. wants to talk to you.”

  I wanted to scream into the empty air.

  “Trish.” His deep voice sounded calm. “Hang on while I go to my office.”

  If one more person told me to hang on, I was going to hang up. The phone clicked; then he picked up again. “Honey, Shirl’s in an uproar, but things are fine.” He laughed. “She loves drama.”

  That was an understatement. My heartbeat slowed.

  “Why were the cops there?”

  “They said it was routine.”

  “They always say that.” My mind went in a million directions. Had Marvin put something in a unit? “So they did search Connie’s units like Shirl said?”

  “Yes. It’s part of the investigation. They had a search warrant.”

  I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel. “Are they gone now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was Detective Scott there? Did they take anything away?”

  “Yes, he was here. And, yes, I think they took some things away.”

  Oh, I wished I had been there. “Is Connie a suspect?”

  “Honey, I don’t know,” he said. “What I want to know is what the doctor said today.”

  “Oh, I’m fine. The baby’s fine.” I didn’t mention how fat I was getting.

  “Good. Well, I’m headed out to Baltimore. Shirl is calming down.”

  “Would you please tell her that I’ll be there in about an hour?”

  “Sure.”

  We exchanged telephone smooches, and after we hung up, I pulled my steno pad from my purse and made some notes. After staring at what I’d written for two minutes, I knew exactly wha
t I had to do next.

  Chapter Thirteen

  That I would willingly appear in Detective Eric Scott’s office was a minor miracle. He must have thought so, too, because his face was screwed up in a quizzical frown.

  “Have a seat.” He pointed to the chair in front of his desk. “You know we were out at Four Oaks Self- Storage this morning, right? We talked to Max.”

  “Yes, and that’s why I’m here.”

  He took a deep breath. “We had a warrant.” Dark, puffy circles under his eyes and the tension lines creasing his forehead made me inclined to feel sorry for him.

  “I don’t care about that. It’s fine. I’m just here to help you.”

  He winced. “To help me?”

  By his tone of voice, I could tell my offer of help wasn’t welcome. My sympathy faded, and I bit back an angry retort. “Don’t panic. It’s just something you should know.” I reached into my purse and pulled out my steno pad.

  “Is that what I think it is?” he asked.

  “My clue notebook.” I licked a finger and flipped the pages.

  A stream of breath hissed through his lips.

  I glanced up at him. “Oh, come on. Stop with all the sighs. Can’t you just accept the fact that I collect clues and quit making a big deal out of it?”

  He shook his head. “No. You’re a civilian. You’re not a trained police officer. It isn’t safe.”

  “You sometimes use informants, don’t you? Besides, I came here of my own free will, out of the goodness of my heart, to tell you something. The least you could do is be friendly.”

  He tapped his pen on the desk and stared at me. “Fine. What is it?”

  I put my finger on the page. “Connie just got her new unit last Tuesday. The day after the murder.”

  He pursed his lips. “Okay.”

  “On Thursday, Marvin came to Self-Storage with a key to look inside one of Connie’s units.”

  “Shirl told us that,” Detective Scott said. “And Max assured us that’s on this side of legal. If someone has the key and the code.”

  “Yep. The thing is, he insinuated he was there for school play business.” I stared at the detective. “But he was already on administrative leave. He had no business there. If I had known that, I probably wouldn’t have allowed him in.”