Band Room Bash (11 page)

“Did you get it straightened out?” Max pulled two glasses from the cupboard.

“Not really,” I said. “I, uh, sort of yelled back at him.”

Max glanced at me over his shoulder. “You yelled at him? That probably wasn’t real sm— Um, productive.”

That hurt. “Detective Scott deserved it. He insinuated that Tommy was guilty and that he didn’t want Sherry involved with him.”

Max poured the lemonade and handed me a glass. “Are you sure you didn’t misunderstand him?”

“Well, it’s possible,” I said grudgingly and slouched in the chair and took a sip as I considered how I felt. “It’s really possible. I’m afraid, Max, and my fear could be coloring everything. I don’t like the way things are going right now. Not with the kids involved.”

“Yeah, me, too.” He leaned back against the counter.

“Do you think they’re safe at school?”

He hesitated before he answered. “I want to think so.”

“Did you know that Karen wanted to investigate, too?”

Max put his glass down hard on the counter. “This keeps getting worse. I hope you told her no.”

“Of course I did, but I can’t stop what they do at school. And Detective Scott keeps questioning me.”

Max stared at me. “I don’t think Eric seriously believes that Tommy murdered Georgia.”

“Well then, why won’t he leave us alone?” I asked.

“He’s doing his job, that’s all. And I suspect he’s making sure you tell him everything you saw that’s relevant. The faster he gets this crime solved, the faster some things get back to normal.”

Max turned around and stared out the window above the sink. Something else was bugging him. Could today’s conversation behind a locked door have anything to do with what he had hidden from me on his desk at work? He took a deep breath then picked up the pitcher.

“Max, what’s wrong?”

He opened the refrigerator and slipped the pitcher onto the shelf. “That’s a silly question.”

“Well, you act like you’re keeping secrets from me,” I said. “Remember when Jim Bob was murdered? We agreed. No more secrets. I kept my word. I told you when I was keeping notes. Today you had your office door locked. You were also shoving something around on your desk at work yesterday. What was that about?”

The fridge door thumped shut. Max took a deep breath and turned to face me. “I have a lot of things on my mind right now and—”

The door to the garage flew open and banged against the wall. Karen burst into the kitchen, followed by Sherry.

“Tommy is at the sheriff ’s office,” Karen said.

“What?” Max and I said at the same time.

Sherry started crying. “My dad took Tommy in for questioning. This is all my fault.”

Chapter Ten

Max knows lawyers with Harvard educations because he went to Harvard, and he takes

full advantage of their services when he needs them. I was familiar with the man he hired to represent Tommy. Calvin Schiller had represented me during the investigation into Jim Bob Jensen’s murder months ago.

I hadn’t liked Calvin’s attitude back then, and it hadn’t changed. When we arrived at the sheriff ’s office, he was waiting for us in the lobby. He glanced at me as if I were a wad of gum stuck on the bottom of his shoe. Then he smiled at Max.

“Everything is fine,” he said in his newscaster quality voice. “They can’t question him until I get to the interview room. It’ll be short and sweet, believe me.”

I imagined Calvin came across well in court. His gray suit hung on his portly body with the perfection one can buy only from a personal tailor. He looked to be the perfect combination of sophistication and aged wisdom.

“Should we go with you?” I asked. “I’d really like to be there.”

Calvin lost his self-possession for a moment and looked horrified. “No,” he said quickly. “I’ll take care of everything.”

I glanced at Max and read his thoughts. I should butt out.

I tamped down my protective nature while the two of them talked in hushed tones. Max had relaxed.

I guessed everything would be fine. Calvin might be a snob, but he was a smart snob. If he said things were okay, I believed him. I told Max I’d meet him outside, then I went out to the SUV. I had some thoughts to put in my notebook.

As I walked to the vehicle, I pulled out my phone. Before I could do anything else, I had to console Sherry, who had begged me to call her with any news.

She answered on the first half of the first ring. “Mrs. C., is Tommy okay?”

“The lawyer is here and assures us things are fine.” I unlocked the doors to the SUV and plopped into the passenger seat and shut the door.

Her rapid breaths hissed through the speaker. “Well, this is my fault.”

I was relieved she thought so. She should leave the investigation in more capable hands. Like mine and her father’s.

“So you’ll stop sleuthing, right?” I asked. “Stop asking questions?”

“No way,” she said.

I was momentarily speechless, which was just as well, because she obviously had more to tell me.

“I have to keep going on this. I’m in a great position to hear things at school. Like I said, no one pays much attention to me. I can find out stuff even you can’t. I’ve already learned a couple of interesting things.”

As much as I wanted to know the interesting things she’d found out, I was more afraid of her father’s reaction.

“Sherry, you, uh, said Tommy being hauled down here was your fault for investigating. What did you have in your notebook?”

“Not much. Just a few things. But enough that Daddy knew what I was doing.”

“But if your investigating got Tommy in trouble, shouldn’t you stop before something else happens?”

She laughed—just a little maniacally, I thought. “Oh, I didn’t mean it was because I investigated. It was my fault because I was stupid enough to leave my notebook where Daddy could find it.”

Her statement was illogically logical. Shades of me. That was scary.

“I don’t know about this—”

“Don’t worry, Mrs. C. I’ll be fine.”

“Your father is frantic with worry. I understand how he feels.”

I felt anger in her silence. “Sherry—”

“Does that mean you don’t want to hear what I’ve found out?”

“If I can’t talk you out of investigating, will you promise me something?”

“What?” she asked.

“Keep your cell phone with you at all times. Don’t put yourself in any dangerous situations. Make sure your dad knows where you are.”

“I will. I promise.”

She had agreed too quickly, and her promise was about as useless as mine was to Max. Sometimes dangerous situations just happen. I had to think of a way to get her to stop, but in the meantime, I wanted to know what she had discovered.

“All right. Tell me what you learned.”

“I volunteer in the library sometimes, and the librarians are always gossiping. They think Mr. Slade likes the costume lady.”

“Connie Gilbert?”

“Yeah. And Ms. Winters and Ms. Gilbert, the costume lady, had a huge fight the day Ms. Winters was murdered. In the library. Ms. Gilbert was in there using the computer.”

“The librarian said something about an argument.”

“Well, Ms. Winters made Ms. Gilbert get off the computer and leave the library.”

“Do you know why?”

“Nope, but they were both really mad. I wonder if there was some sort of love triangle going on between Ms. Winters, Mr. Slade, and Ms. Gilbert.” Sherry’s breath came faster. “Maybe Mr. Slade and Ms. Gilbert were. . .you know.”

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 straightened, 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.”