Band Room Bash

by Candice Speare Prentice

  Chapter Fourteen

  Saturday was cleaning day. Everyone pitched in for two hours to get the house in shape. Then Max took the kids out in the afternoon without me—something he started months ago after we realized that Karen was resentful of all the attention he paid to me.

  As I swished my mop across the kitchen floor, I thought about my bad parting with Abbie the night before, and I hurt, like a lead-weighted fishhook was hanging from my heart. I kept wondering how I could have said things differently.

  I’d tried to call her all morning, but she didn’t pick up, and I left five different messages. I was so distressed, I hadn’t even bothered to write the information my mother had given me about Georgia’s murder in my steno pad.

  I was debating about driving to Abbie’s apartment and kicking in her door when the beep of my cell interrupted my thoughts. I dropped my mop and raced to get it, hoping it was her, but it wasn’t. It was Sherry.

  My whole body slumped. I had assumed she wasn’t investigating anymore, because I hadn’t heard from her. So her calling me now either meant bad news—that is, her father was rampaging even after my great advice to him, or she had more new clues. That would mean that sooner or later her father would be rampaging again.

  “Hi, Sherry,” I said.

  “Did you know that Connie Gilbert is a suspect in Ms. Winters’ murder?” She wasted no time on nonessentials.

  “Yes.” I dropped onto a kitchen chair.

  “Well, Aunt Elissa is going to handle the costumes for the play. Ms. Bickford asked her to, and we’re going to pick up some things from Connie today. Aunt Elissa thought you might like to come.”

  A distraction. That would be a better alternative than being arrested for bashing in Abbie’s front door. Besides, with Elissa along, I wouldn’t be responsible for Sherry’s being involved in the investigation. That meant I’d be free to gather all the clues I could. Not only that, but I wanted to get to know Elissa a little better.

  Elissa drove her Mazda as though she were in a car chase on a reality cop show. The daredevil in me appreciated her skill. The mommy in me was scared to death.

  Sherry must have sensed my emotions. She leaned forward from the tiny backseat and said, “Don’t worry. Aunt Elissa has had training driving cars. She used to be a cop, like Dad.”

  Elissa was a cop? I glanced over at her.

  “It’s true,” she said.

  I didn’t have a chance to pursue my questions, like why she walked with a cane, because she roared up Nettie’s driveway and skidded to a stop, tires spitting gravel.

  Sherry headed for the front door of the house, followed by Elissa. I walked more slowly, looking around. Nettie’s farm had changed since I’d been here last.

  Contrary to what my mother believed, I did remember that she used to attend garden club meetings here. Even at that young age, I’d been impressed by the color-coordinated flower beds that Nettie had created. But now everything had changed. Weeds grew profusely in gardens that had once been tended with great care.

  Elissa rang the bell. I joined her and Sherry on the front porch.

  When Connie answered, she barely glanced at us. “Come in.” She held the door open.

  The wide foyer led into a gloomy, wood-floored hallway that was lined with furniture. On the right side, a staircase disappeared into the darkened upstairs. The air was stuffy and smelled of mothballs, toast, and the floral perfume I’d smelled in Georgia’s classroom. It must be Connie’s scent.

  “I’m sorry about your loss,” Elissa said to Connie once we were all inside.

  Tears welled in her eyes. “It’s been horrible. Georgia and I didn’t always get along, but she. . .” She took a deep breath. “Well, I know you didn’t come to listen to me cry.”

  “It’s okay.” Elissa patted her shoulder.

  “I’m a suspect, you know.” More tears glistened in Connie’s eyes. “The police think I killed her.”

  Connie’s tears might have been real, but in the dismal atmosphere of the Victorian farmhouse, I couldn’t tell.

  She turned to Elissa. “Thank you for doing the costumes. I suppose I could just decide not to provide costumes for the play, but I won’t do that to the kids. Trish, I’ve lost one of the keys to my storage units. I’d really like to keep the one I have left. Would you like me to pay for a new lock?”

  “I have a master,” I said. “We’ll use that.”

  She turned to Sherry. “Would you please give me a hand getting some boxes from upstairs? I don’t want Trish carrying anything, and Elissa. . .” Connie glanced at Elissa’s cane.

  “Funky leg makes things hard,” Elissa said. “Best to let the youngster do the carting.”

  “I can do it, no problem,” Sherry responded eagerly.

  Connie motioned toward a room to her right. “You two can wait in the parlor.”

  I was hesitant to let Sherry go alone with Connie, but Elissa didn’t seem worried. While Sherry trailed Connie up the creaking wood staircase, I followed Elissa into the parlor, passing a long, narrow, marble-topped table in the hall, on top of which lay a bag from the drugstore.

  Heavy red drapes hung on the tall parlor windows. Dark wood furniture and uncomfortable-looking velvet-covered sofas filled the room. In true Victorian fashion, ornate tables were covered with knickknacks.

  Elissa turned a sharp eye to me. “I know what she’s doing.”

  “Huh?”

  “My niece.” Elissa began walking the perimeter of the room, eyeing everything. “She’s trying to solve this mystery. She’s worried about her boyfriend—your son. Corporal Fletcher told me.” Her lips curled into a small smile. “He thought I might handle that piece of information better than her father.”

  Yea for Corporal Fletcher. I liked him better and better. The heaviness of responsibility for Sherry dropped from my shoulders. “Oh, I’m so glad. So you talked her out of it, right?”

  Elissa laughed. “You’re joking, of course.”

  “Well, I was hoping.”

  “No, I wasn’t able to talk her out of it. Sherry comes by her stubbornness honestly. She’d continue even if we told her not to.”

  “Don’t you think her investigating is dangerous?”

  A flicker of concern passed over Elissa’s face. “Yes, it could be. That’s why I’m getting as involved as I can, especially with the play. I have a feeling things are going to get worse before they get better, and this way I can assure her father I’m taking care of her.” She glanced around the room then gave me a quick smile. “Now let’s get busy.”

  “Busy?”

  “Don’t be dense, Trish. Snoop.”

  “Is that okay to do?” I asked

  “She left us here, didn’t she? It’s not like she told us to close our eyes. Just don’t touch anything.”

  With that, I began looking around. On the coffee table I noticed a newspaper from Charlottesville, Virginia.

  “Look at this,” I pointed.

  Elissa limped over to join me.

  “This is where Connie used to live,” I said.

  She stared at the paper. “Obituary section. Interesting.”

  Most of the deceased were elderly people, but one notice caught my eye. A very nice-looking man, maybe in his thirties. Aaron Bryant.

  “Remember that name,” Elissa murmured, pointing to the news photo.

  Two thick books about antiques were piled on the other end of the table. I walked over to look at them. Peeking out from underneath the pile was a piece of paper on which I spotted a familiar fleur-de-lis.

  I waved at it. “I’ve seen something like this before.”

  Elissa shifted on her cane. “Oh, I recognize that. It’s a receipt from a chain of pawn shops in Baltimore.”

  “I saw one of these on Marvin’s desk at school,” I said. Elissa met my gaze with a frown, but before we could look talk anymore, we heard Sherry’s voice, followed by footsteps on the stairs. She and Connie were on their way down. No more time to snoop.
r />   Their hands were full of costumes in plastic cleaner bags.

  “I’ll start carrying these out to the car,” Sherry said. Elissa nodded at her.

  “Some of these costumes will need alterations,” Connie said. “When the time comes, I’ll need to show you how I do that without ruining the costumes. I have all the kids’ sizes on forms that I left on Marvin’s desk. I’ll get those for you.”

  “That sounds good,” Elissa said. “But are you sure you’re up to it?” She nodded at the obituary on the table. “Have you lost more than one relative? That would be very painful.”

  Connie reached over to pick up the paper, her eyes tearing up again. “Well, in a manner of speaking.” She swallowed. “Aaron and I were talking about getting engaged. It was a tragedy. He died the day before Georgia.”

  An elderly woman walked into the room carrying the plastic shopping bag from the drug store. “Did you bring this?” she asked in my general direction.

  “I did, Granny,” Connie said.

  With gnarled hands, Nettie sifted through the bag. “I need my medicine.” She turned to Connie. “Did you bring my medicine?”

  “Yes. It’s in there.”

  The older woman began pulling out the contents and strewing them on the couch.

  Connie caught Nettie’s arm. “Granny, we’ll get to all this in a minute. Wait until our company leaves, okay?”

  Nettie held up a box. “What’s this? A watch? Did you get a new watch?”

  “Yes,” Connie said.

  “Why?” Nettie asked. “You had one.”

  “Yes, but I broke it.” She took the bag from Nettie’s hand and replaced the items inside. “Where is it?” Nettie asked.

  “I gave it to Aaron to get it fixed—” Connie’s voice broke, and she pressed her fingers against her eyes.

  I felt so sorry for her I didn’t want to believe she was a murderer. “There are a lot of broken watches going around,” I said by way of distraction.

  “What?” Connie glanced at me.

  “Oh, Carla broke her watch, too. One of the links. A beautiful thing. Gold. Looked expensive.”

  Nettie clapped her hands. “Carla. That’s Georgia’s friend. She comes a lot. We always have nice dinners.” She paused and looked around the room. “Where is Georgia?”

  My heart ached for her.

  “Granny, it’s time for your lunch.” Connie placed the watch back in the shopping bag then turned to us. “I’m sorry. I really can’t talk anymore.”

  “We understand.” Elissa’s expression matched my feelings—sympathy mixed with suspicion.

  Sherry still hadn’t come back, so we picked up the rest of the costumes to carry them outside.

  Connie walked us to the door and murmured a quick good-bye as we stepped onto the porch. As the front door closed, Sherry walked around the corner of the house. She hurried over to me and took the costumes from my arms.

  “Where were you?” Elissa asked.

  “Checking out the gardens and stuff. Since Daddy implied poison, I was looking to see if there was anything suspicious. I didn’t touch anything, though.”

  “And?” I asked.

  “Well, there’s this huge garden shed back there with all sorts of things in it. Squealing hinges. . .I was afraid someone would hear me. The shelves are filled with bags and bottles and stuff. Rat poison, bug poison. You name it, it’s there.”

  We all climbed into the car and Elissa turned the key, shifted into gear, and careened down the driveway. “There’s something with the boyfriend,” she said. “According to the article, he died very suddenly. Seems strange that two people in Connie’s life died without warning. It would be interesting to find out more about Aaron Bryant.”

  “And what about the pawn shop?” I explained to Sherry about the receipts. “Marvin said something about pawning school instruments the other day. But that wouldn’t bring in a lot of money. Do you think Connie is pawning Nettie’s belongings? There are a lot of valuable things in that house. And there were books about antiques on the coffee table.”

  Sherry had her head between the two front seats. “Maybe that’s why Connie killed Georgia. To take the stuff and sell it.”

  Elissa glanced at her niece. “We don’t know that Connie killed Georgia.”

  I frowned. “Besides, if Connie wanted money, she could have sold the whole farm. Georgia wanted to. Then Connie would have had half of everything. But she didn’t want to.”

  “I’m going to make a few calls on Monday morning,” Elissa said. “We’re missing something here.”

  The Four Oaks High School marching band was leaving the field after halftime. The show had fallen flat, as if the band members were moving in a fog. The football team was losing. Jason had fumbled several plays. Without Coach Smith and Marvin Slade, the kids weren’t holding together well.

  I left Max with Charlie and Sammie on the bleachers so I could stretch my stiff body, as well as take a bathroom break—something that was occurring with more frequency. I noticed Detective Scott in attendance. He was in close conversation with a woman whose casual appearance didn’t cover the fact that she was a cop. I desperately wished I could be privy to what they were talking about.

  I passed Carla Bickford in a huddle with several parents. She was still wearing a suit, although this one was more casual, with pants and a loose jacket. I imagined her closet full of rows of suits, sorted by color.

  Ten minutes later, when I was washing my hands in the bathroom, two women I knew by sight, who were also parents of high school students, walked in together. One had flaming red hair that could only come from a bottle. The other was a natural mousy brown. They were so busy talking they didn’t even look at me.

  “She is just too big for her britches,” the redhead said.

  “Oh yeah. She thinks she’s better than the rest of us, that’s for sure. I heard her family in Virginia was dirt poor.”

  The conversation stopped when they noticed me standing there.

  “Trish, how are you?” the one with brown hair said.

  I rubbed my stomach. “Besides feeling like I’m going to pop, I’m fine.”

  She nodded. “How awful about Georgia.”

  Both women watched me closely, and I recognized the look. They were eager for information and thought I could provide some, but I didn’t want to. “Yes, it was awful.”

  When I said nothing else, the redhead began to speak. “My husband is on the school board, but I’m still thinking of removing our daughter from the school. Even with a police officer there, I just don’t feel like it’s safe.”

  The other woman nodded in agreement. “School resource officer, they call her.”

  I wondered if that was the young woman Detective Scott had been talking to earlier. “So she’s assigned to the school now?”

  “Just came on,” the brown-haired woman said. “Has her own office and everything.”

  “Of course, Carla is going to do everything in her power to put a positive spin on this,” the other one said. “Make it look like it was all her idea, even though it wasn’t. It was the school board’s.”

  “She’s becoming a dictator.”

  That wasn’t a stretch for Carla.

  “Well, you know why, don’t you?” the redhead asked.

  “Yes. She probably wants to keep moving on. Leave her past behind.”

  They began joking about what kinds of pasts someone would want to leave behind. I’d learn nothing else here. Besides, I was hungry. I left the bathroom and detoured to the concession stand. There I considered buying a hot dog, which I love to eat with lots of onions and mustard.

  Onions make me burp when I’m pregnant, so I debated whether the momentary pleasure would be worth the price. Then I caught a glimpse of Carla Bickford out of the side of my eye. She was stalking Marvin Slade, who was walking with two uniformed band members. I was surprised to see him, since he’d been put on leave. When Carla finally reached him, she tapped his shoulder. He whirled around
and frowned at her. I wasn’t close enough to hear their words, but I surmised from the way the two band members hurried away that the conversation wasn’t pleasant.

  Marvin’s voice grew loud, and Carla pointed toward the parking lot. When he finally walked away, she patted her hair and headed for the bleachers. My curiosity got the best of me, and I followed Marvin, moving as fast as I could.

  “Marvin, wait,” I yelled.

  His startled gaze met mine, and he hurried toward his car. When he reached it, I thought he might ignore me and take off, but his shoulders slumped, and he leaned hard on the roof of the car.

  “Hello, Mrs. Cunningham,” he said when I reached him.

  I didn’t reply, just crossed my arms and stared at him. The baby was kicking my ribs again, and I felt a slight twinge in my abdomen. I needed to slow down. When I opened my mouth to tell Marvin I didn’t appreciate his deception, he started talking first.

  “I know what you want.”

  “No, I’m not sure you do,” I said. “I’m angry because you lied to me at Four Oaks Self-Storage. You led me to believe you were still teaching.”

  He smiled sadly. “The second part of that statement is the truth. I did lead you to believe that, but I never came out and said it.”

  “Sin of omission.”

  He shrugged. “What can I say?”

  “So why were you there?”

  He reached for the car door handle. “Let’s just say, I’m a fool in love trying to save someone from herself.”

  “What?”

  “In love for the first time in my life.”

  “Connie?”

  He opened his mouth, then looked over my shoulder. His eyes flickered and he pulled his keys from his pockets. “I gotta go.” He flung the door open and scrambled inside, slamming the door hard.

  He turned on the ignition and threw the car into gear. I backed away just in time for him to squeal away.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was avoiding me,” a voice said over my shoulder.

  I turned around. Coach Smith was standing right behind me. Based on the muscles in his shoulders and arms, I had no problem believing he took steroids.