Band Room Bash (18 page)

Twila shook her head firmly. “I don’t think so. This is one thing I agree with Carla about. Georgia’s death was an accident. No matter what the cops say. She was always drinking those herbals teas she mixed up at home. A special blend that gave her energy and suppressed her appetite. You gotta be careful with things like that. Too many stimulants can kill you.”

“I still think it was Coach Smith.” Sue surprised me by defending her opinion. “The guy was freaking out when Georgia refused to date him anymore. Or it was Marvin. He asked me out once.” She shivered. “You know, I could be dead right now.”

“Well, with the coach, it was just his ego,” Twila said. “He had other girls, believe me. A lot of good they’ll do him in jail.”

As the two debated, I decided to go chase down Carla and get this over with. I left the office just in time. The secretaries’ conversation had moved into a discussion about how Coach Smith was probably going to come back, shoot them all dead with a shotgun, splattering the walls with blood.

My mouth still felt dry, and I needed a drink of water badly. I was about to go in search of a vending machine when I saw Tommy heading my way.

“Hey, Mom.” He had half a doughnut in his hand.

“Hi, honey.” I stood on my tiptoes and pecked him on the cheek, figuring it was fine since no one else was around. “Where’d you get that, and what are you still doing here?”

“Trying to keep my part in the play.” He grinned sheepishly. “We just finished practicing with the new teachers in charge. I’m sucking up to everyone. I brought doughnuts.” He took another bite.

“Did you see Mr. Slade?”

Tommy’s smile died. “Yeah. Just a couple minutes ago. It’s really sad. He was in the band room packing his stuff. I left him some doughnuts, too.”

“Where’s Sherry?”

He shrugged. “Probably in the auditorium. I left right after practice.”

“Well, aren’t you two—?”

“Mom, the way things are right now, I can’t go there, okay?”

I blinked at the vehemence in his voice. “Has Detective Scott questioned you again?”

“No. And I’m going to do my best to make sure he doesn’t have to.” Tommy edged away from me. “Listen, I gotta go now. Gotta get to work.” He turned and jogged on up the hall, and I resumed my walk toward the band room.

When I passed the doors to the auditorium, I saw teenagers were milling around the room. Sherry was there, too, and she looked up and waved at me. I waved back, even as I picked up my step and hurried on, trying to avoid her, but it did no good. She made a beeline for me, rushing out into the hallway.

“Hi, Mrs. C. I have a message from Aunt Elissa for you.”

I slowed down, and she fell into step next to me. “What’s that?”

“That receipt you guys saw at Connie’s was from a pawn shop in Baltimore. They have a number of things there that fit the description of things that are missing from Nettie Winters’ house.”

I stopped in my tracks. “You’re kidding.”

She shook her head. “Aunt Elissa thinks either Connie or Georgia was pawning things. I wonder if it wasn’t Connie and she murdered Georgia because she found out. And that’s not all.”

“What else?”

“Well, that boyfriend of Connie’s? The fiancé? He died in a suspicious death. It looks like someone broke into his house to rob him and shot him to death.”

I began walking again, trying to piece things together in my mind, and Sherry followed close on my heels.

“I think Aunt Elissa is helping Dad or something, because before she talked about the whole thing with me, but now she won’t. And she’s been in to talk to Ms. Bickford. Everyone’s a traitor, I guess.” She paused. “Have you seen Tommy?”

I glanced at Sherry. “Yes, he’s on his way to work.”

“He’s ignoring me.” Her mouth quivered like she was going to cry.

I touched her arm. “You understand why, don’t you?”

Her eyes flashed, and her lips firmed. I knew exactly how she was feeling and felt very, very sorry for Detective Scott. He’d better handle the situation differently, or he would drive her away.

“I’m going to clear Tommy’s name once and for all.” She crossed her arms. “I don’t care what anybody says. Then, when we practice our kiss, I won’t feel like I’m pressing my lips on a cardboard cutout. When we first started practicing, there was some real feeling.”

Oh, great. That’s all I needed to hear about. Passionate kisses between my son and his girl. I wanted to clap my hands over my ears and say, “La la la la la la, I can’t hear you,” but that would have been too obvious. Instead, I glanced up at the ceiling so I could recover my equilibrium.

“Mrs. C.?”

“Mmm?” I twisted my head, trying to decide if the brown water stain right above my head looked more like a dog or a cow.

“Are you mad at me, too?”

The tone of her voice was so forlorn, I felt terrible. I met her gaze again. “No, I’m not.” I knew what it was like to be in love with a Cunningham man. Once it happens, you just can’t help yourself.

“Where are you going?” Sherry asked.

“I’m looking for Carla—Ms. Bickford. Her secretary said she was meeting Marvin in the band room. She was also looking for Connie.”

“I’ll come with you.”

I began to argue with her but decided I wanted company. With the school practically empty, I didn’t want to be alone with my imagination.

“We have a substitute band teacher,” Sherry said as we walked toward the band room. “And someone else is taking Ms. Winters’ class for the rest of the year.”

“Your aunt will still be doing the costumes, right?”

“Yeah. Aunt Elissa wants to talk to you about that. She wants your help.”

When I reached the band room door, I had a weird sense of déjà vu. I didn’t like the chill that crept over my head, making my hair feel like it was standing on end. Sherry’s presence offered small comfort, especially since I was responsible for her safety.

I pushed the door open. The lights were on. So was a DVD, playing the movie
Arsenic and Old Lace.

“Carla?” I called. No answer. “Marvin?” No answer.

“This is sort of creepy,” Sherry said.

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

A box of doughnuts lay on Marvin’s old desk. Beside that was a packing box partially filled with music books. Then I noticed splotches of liquid dotting the floor next to a shattered ceramic mug and a half-eaten doughnut.

Sherry’s breath hissed through her teeth.

From the television, Mortimer Brewster said, “You. . . Get out of here! D’ya wanna be poisoned? D’ya wanna be murdered? D’ya wanna be killed?”

The words were ironic given that Marvin Slade was in a heap on the floor.

Chapter Seventeen

I slouched on a chair in the hallway of the school with my eyes closed. I felt heavy, like someone had opened the top of my head and poured in concrete. With emergency personnel and cops in and out, I paid no attention to the sounds of the footsteps around me until someone stopped next to me.

I opened my eyes and looked into the eyes of Detective Scott.

“I might have known.” His tone was resigned.

I wasn’t surprised to see him. Sherry had called him as soon as we discovered Marvin on the floor. I tried to sit up straight, but I didn’t have the energy. “He’s okay, right? He had a pulse. I watched the paramedics take him away.”

“He’s alive.” Detective Scott’s gaze searched my face. “How about you? How are you feeling?”

“Numb.”

“You’re pale.”

“Probably just shock.”

His searching gaze made me feel defensive. “I had a good reason to be here, you know.” “I’m not surprised. You usually do.”

The heaviness in my legs increased. “Tommy did, too.”

He drew a sharp breath. “Tommy was here?”

Me and my big mouth. Still, Detective Scott would find out sooner or later. “Yes. He was bribing teachers with doughnuts.”

I didn’t like the look on the detective’s face. Corporal Fletcher appeared, and when I tried to smile at him, my mouth wouldn’t work. I took a deep breath, and my vision turned to spots. I began to slide out of the chair.

“Oh, hey!” The corporal rushed forward and grabbed me under the arms.

Next thing I knew, I was laid out on the floor, and Detective Scott was kneeling next to me with his finger on my pulse. “Fletcher, get the paramedics.”

“Yes sir.” The corporal walked down the hall, talking into the mike on his shoulder.

My mind felt muddled. “No ambulance,” I whispered.

“Yes, an ambulance,” Detective Scott said.

“I don’t want to go to the emergency room.” I spoke louder and tried to clear my vision. “You don’t understand, Detective Scott. They know me by name there.” I felt the baby kick. I forced myself to relax and take deep breaths.

Detective Scott stared at me, eyebrows in a deep V. “Would you please just do something without arguing? Just this once?”

Since I had just slid out of the chair, I decided to agree. “Okay.”

“Okay?” His eyes widened. “Just like that? Okay?”

“Yes. Okay.” I took another deep breath and felt the fog in my head lifting. Maybe I just needed to remember to breathe. “How is Sherry?”

“Fine.” The way he answered told me he was annoyed with her.

I met his gaze straight on, or tried to. “Don’t blame her, Detective. Neither of us was investigating. I was here to find Carla to deliver advertising commitments. Sherry was just walking with me. She’s a good girl, you know, but she’s very vulnerable right now.”

He closed his eyes for a moment then opened them again. “I know.”

I decided to let the topic drop. There was only so much I could do for either of them, and now wasn’t the time for an in-depth conversation. I took more deep breaths and began feeling a bit better.

“I’m going to need to question you, but it can wait until later on,” he said.

“It wasn’t just an accident then?” I asked. “Was Marvin attacked? Like hit? I didn’t see any blood or anything.”

Detective Scott stared at me, and I could almost see the cogs in his brain working. “I don’t think so.”

I felt a brief sense of relief. “I was afraid Coach Smith had come in and bashed Marvin over the head.” Then I realized what the detective had said. “What do you mean, ‘I don’t think so’? Do you think someone did something to Marvin? Like, he ate something funny?” I began to panic, thinking about Tommy and the doughnuts. “He probably had a heart attack. I know that—”

“You need to calm down.” Detective Scott patted my arm.

“I hate it when people say that to me.” I struggled to sit up.

In a gentle manner that belied his irritated scowl, Detective Scott reached an arm around my shoulders, helped me sit up, then propped me against the wall.

Corporal Fletcher joined us again, and the detective stood.

I looked up at both of them. “Do you think this has anything to do with Georgia?”

“Stop talking,” Detective Scott ordered.

“Yes, but what happened to Marvin? If he wasn’t bashed in the head, then was he poisoned? Coach was out on bail.” I looked up and down the hall, expecting to see Carla marching around giving orders. “Where is Carla?”

“On her way back,” he said. “She’d gone home.”

“What about Connie? She was here, too, you know.”

Detective Scott exchanged glances with Corporal Fletcher, whose forehead was creased with worry lines.

“We’re not going to discuss this right now. I’ll come by your house later.” The detective motioned to another deputy. “Watch her until the paramedics get here.” He crooked a finger at the corporal. “Fletcher, come with me. I’m afraid this is my fault, although I told Marvin not to come here.”

Linda Faye King, the emergency room nurse, was wrapping a blood pressure cuff around my arm. “Well, we haven’t seen you in quite some time. I figured you were trying to be careful, since you’re pregnant and all, but here you are.”

The implication, of course, was that I was still as foolish as ever, even risking my baby’s well-being by doing stupid things.

“I’m just a little dizzy is all,” I said, not hiding my irritation. “I think maybe I hold my breath when I get stressed. I’ve had a few tiny pings in my abdomen. Probably Braxton Hicks.”

“Lots of people have false labor pains, but we’ll see.” She pursed her lips and pumped up the cuff. “Dizziness can be a sign of lots of things. Like the placenta could be detaching, and the baby could die.”

Fear gripped my stomach as the cuff tightened on my arm.

She watched the gauge then made a notation on my chart. “Your blood pressure is fine. That’s a good sign. We had a lady in here last week who lost her baby. Poor thing. Stillbirth. Imagine.”

I was going to throw up.

“The lady’s mother was already in here with some sort of heart palpitations. Those coincidences happen a lot—like Nettie Winters and her niece a couple weeks ago.” Linda Faye efficiently folded up her blood pressure cuff. “I mean, can you believe that? All in one family? On the same day?”

“I’m not sure I follow.” And I wasn’t sure she should be telling me all this information about other people.

“Connie was in here, too—the same day as Nettie. Heart pounding.”

I had another wave of dizziness.

“And here we go again,” Linda Faye continued. “You and Marvin Slade here at the same time. Then the police were here, too, and—”

The curtain to the room was swept aside by Bill Starling, our general practitioner and regular physician at the hospital. Linda Faye shut up like someone had slapped her.

“Surprise, surprise.” Bill smirked. “Imagine seeing Trish Cunningham in the emergency room. I guess I’d better call your obstetrician.”

Max appeared behind Bill. That’s when I started to cry.

Two hours later, I sat on my bed, wearing one of Max’s old shirts over black leggings. Whenever I feel insecure, wearing something of his helps me, even now, when we were at odds. My favorite pink, cross-eyed bunny slippers lay on the floor, and I was wrapped up in my favorite afghan.

The baby was fine. For that I was very grateful. But my doctor said I had to be careful now, especially because I’d been having minor contractions. I was also dehydrated and probably stressed. They’d given me fluids to get my metabolism back in order.

I’d had some problems with dizziness at the beginning of my pregnancy, as well, so my present reaction wasn’t totally unexpected.

“Honey? You awake?” Max walked into the bedroom carrying a cup of hot chocolate and my steno pad, my Bible study, and a pen. “I thought you’d like these.” He set everything down on the nightstand and stood next to the bed.

“Thank you.” I reached for the hot chocolate and took a sip to avoid meeting his eyes.

We hadn’t yet spoken about our argument earlier in the day, and we were awkward around each other, a little like acquaintances instead of husband and wife. Funny how unresolved issues between people can build walls, and the longer it goes on, the higher the walls become. But I suspected that his bringing my notebook was a form of apology. Besides, he probably thought I’d be writing down notes anyway, so he might as well accept it.

“We need to talk, I guess.” I put the mug back on the nightstand.

“Yes.” He brushed a strand of hair from my face. “But not now. Let’s do it later when we won’t be interrupted.”

“All right.” Normally, I like to get things over with, but I was glad for the reprieve. I still felt too raw and hadn’t had time to sort things out in my head.

His eyes watered. “Baby, just know that I love you more than anything in the world. If anything happened to you. . .Well, we’ll work all this out.”

Tears came to my eyes. I leaned against him, and he hugged me.

Karen appeared at the bedroom door. “Mom, are you okay?”

“Yes, honey.” I saw the worry in her eyes and felt bad. “Really, I’m just fine.”

She smiled. “Good. Grandmom is here. She brought Charlie and Sammie home.” After a last glance at me, she turned and left.

“I have to go see to the kids.” Max headed for the door, talking over his shoulder. “Your mother is making dinner.”

“Do the little kids know what happened?”

“I’m not sure if your mother told them or not. If not, I will.” Max stopped in the doorway and turned slowly to face me. “I want you to know that I’m going to try to stop the housing development project. I don’t know if I can, but I’ll try.”

“Max—”

“I didn’t bring it up to discuss it right now. But you’re more important to me than any business venture. That’s the least I can do.”

As I watched him leave, I wasn’t sure how I felt about the project anymore. Yes, I felt betrayed by his lack of trust in me, but how much of that had I brought on myself by being grumpy?

A few minutes later, buoyed by the warmth of the hot chocolate and the green and white afghan, I finally relaxed. The baby was pressed up against my ribs, making it hard to breathe, but I didn’t care. I was just grateful everything was okay.

I picked up my Bible study book and opened it to the latest lesson. The main scripture was 1 John 3:18: “Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue but with actions and in truth.” The words niggled at my brain. I knew there was something the Lord was trying to tell me, but the words grew blurry under my tired gaze. I set the book aside, rolled over on my side, and drifted to sleep, only to be awakened shortly by the sounds of my mother’s voice and my youngest children’s footsteps on the stairs.

“Land sakes. Your mother is a magnet for trouble lately. But then she’s always been in trouble. Did I ever tell you kids about the time she was twelve, and she took Abbie for a ride in her granddaddy’s truck? Gonna herd cattle, was what she said later. I thought my heart would stop in my chest when I saw the two of them rolling by in the pasture, cattle scattering to the wind and. . .”

I’d heard that story approximately ten thousand times. So had everyone else in the family. While she stood just inside the doorway, droning on and on, Sammie and Charlie burst into the room. Sammie caught herself just before she jumped on the bed. I hugged her and eyed Charlie over her head. His lips were in a thin line, and his body was tense.