Murder Is Private (3 page)

Chapter 4

Susan and Lynette picked up a key lime pie to bring to Audrey’s on their way back from the beach. Susan felt like a kid with attention deficit disorder who’d forgotten to take her medicine. As she sat in George’s car on their way to Audrey’s, her mind jumped from one question to another. Why had Audrey given her up? What were Audrey’s parents like? Had they insisted she give away her baby? Had Audrey ever considered seeking an abortion from one of the few doctor’s willing to perform them at that time? Susan knew that the doctor in question was later arrested for talking girls into having their babies, then putting them up for adoption on the black market. Did Audrey know that? Intermittently, Susan tried to make sense of Celia Watkin’s murder. Who’d killed the music teacher, and why?

George knocked on the door, and immediately a ferocious sounding dog started barking. Annalise cried. When Audrey opened the door, Susan saw it was a tan and black German Shepard. She’d never been fond of dogs and instinctively she took a step back.

“Don’t worry about Wolfie. He’s a sweetheart, really,” said Audrey. She scratched the animal’s head, between the ears, and was rewarded with a drooly lick.

“Wolfie! He does look a bit like a wolf,” said Susan. Annalise, now smiling, pointed and said, “Doggy!”

“Oh, no, darling,” said Audrey, “that’s not how he got his name. He’s named after Wolfgang Mozart, my favorite composer.”

Susan couldn’t get over the coincidence. “I have two cats named Johann and Ludwig. After Bach and Beethoven.”

Audrey smiled. “I see we share a love of classical music. Come, sit down.” They walked across the white tile to a beige sofa covered with Mexican print pillows. Susan hesitated to put squirmy Annalise down. A toddler running around on a slippery tile floor was a recipe for disaster. Audrey offered them wine, and brought a platter of cheese and vegetables out from the kitchen.

“Susan, Lynette, I’m sorry I’ve been so preoccupied with the murder, but it’s time to put that aside for a while and address the elephant in the room. You must have a million questions––the first, I’m quite sure, being why I gave you up.”

“Of course, I wondered. Actually, I didn’t find out I was adopted until after my Mom died. I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to find you, but when Lynette was facing her recent health crisis, I became certain.” They were all aware that Lynette had recently thought she might lose her eyesight to a genetic disease, but the discovery of her long-lost biological grandmother had squashed that possibility.

“I was very young when I got pregnant with you,” Audrey began. “I was fifteen. Back in those days, the way to deal with teenage pregnancy was to send the girl away to ‘visit a relative’ or ‘take a trip abroad.’ My parents were high up on the Georgia social ladder and appearances were everything to them. They didn’t even want me to have the baby. They sent me to a doctor who performed abortions, hoping I’d be back in time for debutante season.”

“Then how did you wind up having the baby?” asked Lynette.

“The doctor talked to them and convinced them there were many Christian couples, wealthy high society couples, just dying to raise a child. My parents were persuaded, much to my relief.”

“Who was my father?” said Susan. Audrey’s expression changed.
To one of whimsy?
wondered Susan.
It looked more like fear
.

“Just a boy down visiting his aunt for the summer. Come September, I went back to school, and he went back home.” Audrey tried to say it casually, but Susan sensed there was more to it.

Lynette sat forward on the sofa. “What did he say when you told him you were pregnant?”

“Oh, I never did tell him. Never saw him again.”

So my birth father doesn’t know he has a daughter out there somewhere. How could Audrey have kept it a secret?
Susan thought
.

George stood up. “I’m starving and I smell biscuits.”

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Audrey raced to the kitchen. Lynette followed Audrey. George hung back and whispered to Susan, “Keep your eyes and ears open at school, Susan. One of the students or faculty members may have information they’re afraid to share with the police. Told you we could use your help.”

“Mom, are you okay?” said Lynette, returning. She put her good arm on Susan’s shoulder.

“About what Audrey said? I’m fine,” replied Susan. “It’s what I imagined. Teenage pregnancy. End of story. I am wondering what kind of person gets herself pregnant and doesn’t tell the father, though.”

“All I can say is,” added Lynette, “if it hadn’t happened, you wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t be here. And that beautiful daughter of mine never would have been born.” Susan hugged Lynette and her body relaxed.

“Come on, dig in,” called Audrey from the dining room. “We’ve got fried chicken, baked macaroni and cheese, and of course, biscuits.”

They sat at a glass table with chrome chairs. Picasso style artwork adorned the walls, and a straw area rug underneath the table muted the echoing in the austere room.

“You even have a highchair for Annalise,” said Susan.

“Of course. Borrowed it from a friend so my great granddaughter could eat comfortably.”

George dished out the bubbling casserole, while Susan cut a piece of chicken into toddler-sized bites.

“George, what do you do for a living?” asked Lynette.

Audrey answered before George could get his mouth open. “He works at the school. Does maintenance and grounds keeping.”

So that’s how he got that tan,
thought Susan. “How was the rest of the school day?” she asked.

“Like I’d imagined,” said Audrey. “Parent calls, media crawling around like maggots. Thank goodness spring break will be here soon. By the time school resumes, I hope the killer will be locked away in a jail cell.”

After dinner, Audrey made coffee and cut the key lime pie. Susan filled her in on the life and times of Susan Wiles and saw a hint of sadness in the watery reflection of Audrey’s brown eyes. How often over the years had Audrey thought of her? At fifteen, had Audrey felt an attachment to the baby swelling in her belly? Did she go right back to her teenage life after giving up her baby, or had she mourned the loss of her newborn daughter?

“Audrey, I think we’ll be going,” said Lynette. “Mom hasn’t taught for a few years. She needs her sleep so she can face those kids tomorrow.”

“I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’re here. And I really appreciate your mom’s help. Susan, meet me in my office tomorrow morning and I’ll bring you to your class.”

“Looking forward to it,” said Susan. She had a bit of trepidation over teaching high school students, but bigger problems, much bigger problems, were waiting around the bend.

Chapter 5

Susan stared at the alarm clock next to the bed and waited for it to sound. She’d never needed an alarm clock to wake her when she taught, and she still rose most mornings before the sun, but just in case, she put on a casual dress and sandals. If this job continued past this week, she’d definitely need to hit the mall for some teaching clothes.

Lynette rolled over in her bed. “Ready for re-entry?”

“Ready as I’ll get. I am a little nervous about teaching teenagers. Quite a jump from the elementary kids I worked with all those years.”

“They’re just taller. You’ll be fine. Just don’t get into any trouble. Remember, an attack and a murder happened on that campus recently. Do your job and come back right away so we can take Annalise to the beach again.”

Susan went to Audrey’s office as soon as the cab dropped her off. When Audrey hugged her, she recognized her scent––
Viva La Juicy
. Susan’s signature scent.
Was taste in fragrances genetic?
she wondered.

“Thanks again, Susan. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.” Audrey led Susan to the choral suite. The class was eerily silent. Audrey announced that grief counselors would be available all week. She assured the students that their teacher’s killer would be discovered and brought to justice. Then she introduced Susan and left her alone with the students.

Susan’s stomach did flip flops like it had done so many years ago when she’d begun her career. Her first impression of the students was that they were so... well…big. Susan thought carrying on with the class routine would be comforting. She explained the first exercise and sat at the piano with the seating chart.

“Who can sing back the example I just played?” A girl wearing a choker and glasses raised her hand. Her hair was the color of black cherry Kool-Aid. Susan looked at the seating chart and called on Starr Goldberg who performed the exercise flawlessly.

“That’s correct, Starr.”
Did she just see the boy behind Starr mimic her as she sang?
Susan felt the tension in her neck and shoulders begin to ease as she progressed through the class. The hour flew by, and Starr and two others came up to her when the bell rang.

“I can’t believe Ms. Watkins is dead. We all loved her so much,” said Starr.

“What a terrible tragedy! Yes, I’m sure you all miss her,” said Susan.

“I was afraid we’d get a sub who didn’t know music. I’m glad we have someone who does,” said Starr. She wiped her eyes, then introduced her friends––Bibi Muhammad, her head wrapped with a hijab, and a chunky boy with dimples, Manolito Gonzalez. All three were juniors.

“I taught music for many years, but I’ve been retired for a bit. This is quite a school.”

“Quite a school, alright,” said Bibi. “Some really odd things going on here this year.”

“What do you mean? Besides the murder?” Susan asked.

Manolito chimed in. “Over in the auditorium, we see lights flickering at night in the roof tower. Other kids see it too. I think it’s haunted.”

“That’s ridiculous, Manolito. Even coming from you,” said Starr.

“He may be right, Starr,” said Bibi. “I’ve heard eerie violin music coming from the windows when the auditorium is locked up. Other people have heard it too.”

“And don’t forget Trish,” said Starr.

Bibi said, “Trish is my roommate, Mrs. Wiles. She overdosed on prescription drugs not long ago, right in our dorm room. They’re calling it an attempted suicide. I know it wasn’t.”

“That’s awful. Was she depressed?” said Susan. Her foul play sensors perked up.
Interesting.

“I’ve known Trish since freshman year,” continued Bibi. “She loves dancing and always has a great attitude. I never once saw her depressed. In fact, she was planning on going to Aruba over spring break with a few of the other dance students. She’d even bought a new bathing suit and was going to the tanning salon.”

“I was friends with her too,” said Manolito, reclaiming the spotlight. “I know she hated taking medicine and had trouble swallowing pills. When she got a headache, she’d use acupressure before she’d take an aspirin.”

Bibi hesitated, then added, “She
was
having some issues over performing. She’d gotten the lead in the ballet and she was stressed. She beat out half a dozen other ballerinas for the role. Lots of jealousy floating around the dance department. The girls she beat were giving her the cold shoulder. One even posted a nasty comment with an unflattering picture on Instagram. Trish always felt pressure to be perfect. She went back to the studio every night to practice. She had trouble sleeping. I’d hear her tossing and turning.”

“Bibi, were you the one who found her?” asked Susan.

“Thank God, no. I’d gone home for the weekend. She missed a Saturday night performance. That was totally unlike her. I mean, she had the lead. She never would have missed the show!”

“Her friends from the show went over to our dorm afterwards to see if she was okay. They could see the light was on in her room, but Trish didn’t answer their knocks or her phone. They called campus police and when they opened the door, they found her unconscious on the floor.” Manolito’s voice cracked as he stifled tears when he spoke.

“Then, our poor security guard, Charlie, was brutally attacked,” added Bibi. “Our principal was in a freak car accident too. That’s why Mrs. Roberts came back. Rumors say our principal was run off the road. Mrs. Wiles, there haven’t ever been any attacks, robberies, or vandalism in the history of our school––until now.” Although she was a violinist, Bibi spoke with the inflections of a drama student.

“We better go, or we’ll be late for our next class,” said Starr. “Why don’t you come hear us play Thursday night over at Trinity Village? It’s an assisted living and nursing home. Our orchestra conductor is in charge of bringing a group over once a week all through the school year. It happens to be our turn this week. I’m concert master.” Manolito rolled his eyes.

“Can I bring my daughter and granddaughter?”

“Of course,” said Starr. “At least we’ll know there are three people in the audience who aren’t hard of hearing.” She smiled.

“Count us in,” replied Susan warmly.

The rest of the day flew by. Chorus rehearsal went better than she’d expected. These kids could really sing. Before she knew it, the dismissal bell rang.
It’s been fun, but I’m feeling my age.
I can’t wait to take a nap.
When she reached into her purse for her office key, she remembered the rubber band with the hair caught in it.
I’ll call Kevin. He gave me his card.

“Mrs. Wiles, what can I do for you?” the detective replied on the phone.

“It may be nothing,” said Susan, “but I found a tiny rubber band with hair caught in it near the murder scene. I have it for you if you think it’s important.”

“At this stage of the investigation, all evidence is important. I’ll come by and pick it up. Are you at the school?”

“Yes. I’ll wait here.” While waiting for the detective, Susan tried to learn more about Celia Watkins, the murdered music teacher. She looked around her office. Two impressionistic paintings hung on one wall, along with a framed photo of the Eiffel Tower. On the bookshelf, there was an interesting cuckoo clock, still displaying the correct time. The books ranged in topic from music history and scores, to travel books. No pictures of her husband or children
if she even had any
, or pets.

It took only a few minutes for Kevin to arrive.

“Let’s see what you found,”
 
he said.

She handed him the rubber band. “It’s probably nothing. It’s got hair attached, like it was yanked out or something.”

“I’ll run it through the lab. You never know. By the way, how’s Lynette enjoying Florida?” His voice had a lilt to it when he said Lynette’s name.
Does he still have a thing for her?
Susan wondered
.

“She and the baby are doing just fine. She already misses her husband, Jason. They still act like newlyweds, even after becoming parents.”
Maybe I’m slathering it on a bit thick,
she thought.

After Kevin left, Susan wanted to stop by Audrey’s office. On the way, she passed George coming out of the auditorium.
What sort of landscaping did he have to do in there
? she wondered. George walked right past her, his chin taut and his eyes toward the ground.
I wonder what’s got him so deep in thought.

She walked into Audrey’s office. “Audrey, I wanted to let you know the day went great. Nice kids. I’m going to call a cab and go back to the hotel.”

“Hotel? Susan, you saw my house. I have plenty of room. You and the girls have to stay with me! I’d love the company and we’ll have more time to get to know each other. Besides, I want to win over that precious Annalise. I miss having a baby in the house.”

Susan thought about how Audrey had given up one chance at having a baby around. George would have benefitted from having a big sister. He was an awkward character. Didn’t look you in the eye when he spoke. And working for his Mom at his age?

“It
would
be nice for Annalise to have room to move around.” Susan remembered the tile floors and glass table. Hoping Audrey would get the hint, she added, “She’s into everything. Had to baby-proof my entire house back home once she started crawling.”

“Say no more. I’ll stop and pick up outlet covers. I have a large area rug sitting in my garage that I can put down. I’ll come by the hotel and pick you up. I just have a few things to finish.”

Susan looked forward to spending time with Audrey. She still had so many unanswered questions. Besides, she’d be saving on cab fares. Audrey’s house was within walking distance of the school. Heck, she’d even burn some calories.