Murder Is Secondary

Murder Is Secondary

(A Susan Wiles Schoolhouse Mystery)

Diane Weiner

To my best friend Karen Moffett Mathis who I wish was alive to read my books. I miss her every day.

Chapter 1

“Isn’t it supposed to be fall?” asked Susan Wiles. “My t-shirt is already drenched and we’ve barely gone half a mile.” She brushed her damp blonde bangs to the side and wiped her face with the bottom of her bright teal shirt.

“You’ve lived in New York long enough to know the weather can be unpredictable this time of year. Give it another week or two,” said her Teddy bear of a husband. “By the end of the month, it will be cooler and in another two months you’ll be cursing the ice and snow.” Mike glanced at his Garmin watch. “Besides, we’re making progress and the heat is probably making us burn extra calories. Didn’t Dr. Oz say anything about that on his shows? Anyhow, this was your idea.”

“Yes, my idea,” said Susan sarcastically. “It was your doctor who said you needed to exercise to lower your blood pressure.”

“And yours who said you need to lose twenty pounds.” Mike looked as though he regretted his words the moment they left his mouth. Susan gave him a hard swat with her sweaty hand.

“What I meant to say was that even though you look even more beautiful than you did thirty five years ago on our wedding day, we should both do everything we can to stay healthy and grow old together.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” said Susan. Her face softened.

“Besides, I like my women with a little meat on them.” Susan gave him an even harder swat.

“We’d better keep going. I have to get to work on time,” said Mike.

“How far have we gone?” asked Susan, after they had gone a bit further. The humidity was making it hard to breathe.

Mike responded, “Far enough. Let’s turn around and call it a day. Besides, it smells like it’s going to rain. Hang on, that’s my phone.” Mike took his phone out of the pocket of his basketball shorts, which hung below his belly like a hammock.

“Hey, what’s up, Tank? What? What did you say?” Mike stood still. Susan saw his face turn red.

“What? Why? That’s bull.” Mike began walking faster and faster. Susan noticed the veins begin to pop out of his neck. “Susan and I are out walking. Let me get back home and we’ll come right over.” Susan quickened her pace to keep up with her husband. He ended the call and returned the phone to his pocket. The color had drained from his face.

“What’s wrong?” asked Susan. She tried to keep up with Mike. “It sounds serious.”

“It was Tank and it is serious. We have to get over there right away. My buddy is in a whole lot of trouble.

Chapter 2

Susan and Mike hurried home, then jumped into Mike’s black Bronco. “What kind of trouble?” asked Susan.

“I’ll have to let him explain.”

“What’s it about?”

“I’m not sure I got it all. He was talking so fast. It sounds bad.” In the small town of Westbrook, nowhere was far from anywhere else so they arrived at Tank’s within minutes.

Tank Copland was pacing on the front stoop waiting for them and opened the front door before they could even make it up the steps. His hair was disheveled and it looked like he had spilled coffee on his shirt. Tank had earned his nickname during his football days. Forty years later, balding and noticeably less muscular, the nickname still stuck. They followed him into the living room.

“So, start at the beginning,” said Mike. He and Susan took a seat on the floral sofa. It had been a while since she’d been here, but Susan noticed that Tank hadn’t changed a thing since his wife’s death.

“Well,” said Tank. He took a breath as if to calm himself down. “After school, I was cleaning up the chemistry lab when I got called to the principal’s office. Even at my age, you still get the heebie jeebies when you get called to the principal’s office. He asks me to tell him about the Amber Bernstein situation. I’m like, “what are you talking about?” He tells me sexual harassment accusations have been made against me.”

“What? You? That’s bull,” said Mike. “Is he out of his mind?”

“Of course, he is. I’ve been at Westbrook nearly twenty five years. Twenty-five years of teaching at that damn school. Now this bimbo goes and does this and I get in trouble.” Tank paced around the living room as he talked.

“What the heck? Why?” asked Susan.

“Who the hell knows? She was angry that I recommended another student’s project for the National Science Contest last year instead of hers. She’s even madder now that the boy, Joey, actually won. You know how great that looks on college applications? Those top schools pay attention to things like that and they hardly ever choose more than one student from a school.”

“No one is going to take her word over yours,” said Mike.

“That’s what I thought, but they say they’ve got something else on me. They have
evidence
.”

“Evidence? What kind of evidence?” asked Susan.

“I have no fricking idea,” said Tank. “I can’t even fathom what it could be because there isn’t any. I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“I’ll talk to Lynette right away,” said Susan. Having a police detective for a daughter had opened doors in the past. She picked up her phone and tried to call Lynette but it went straight to voicemail.

“I’ll help you find a good lawyer,” said Mike. “They’re not going to get away with this.”

“You know, I volunteer over in the media center on Thursdays. I’ll see what I can find out,” said Susan. Mike shot her the ‘don’t you dare start snooping’ look. She’d seen that look many times before. Both he and Lynette were always getting on her case about her sleuthing, although she knew that neither of them could deny that she was quite good at it. After all, she had been instrumental in solving her former boss’s murder just a few months ago.

“Thanks,” said Tank. “What would I do without you?”

Chapter 3

The next morning, Susan woke up to the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. As soon as she opened her eyes, she remembered the seriousness of Tank’s situation and felt an urgency to get moving. “Move over, Johann,” she said as she nudged her black cat off the bed. She decided to eat breakfast with Mike before showering, so she put on her pink slippers and headed downstairs.

“Hope you saved me some eggs,” said Susan. Mike was seated at the table dressed for work and reading the paper. He had dark circles under his eyes. Susan knew he hadn’t slept well. She had felt him tossing and turning all night long.

“Sure did. They’re on the stove. I even threw in a few egg whites just for you.”

She made herself a plate, poured some coffee into a mug that said ‘Grandma in Training,’ and sat down with her husband.

“So, what’s our plan?” she asked. “How are we going to get Tank out of this mess?”

“I don’t know. First, we’re going to call Lynette at the police station and see what she thinks. It’s too bad we couldn’t reach her last night.”

“What kind of evidence could they possibly have against Tank?” said Susan. “The man is practically a saint. Remember how he stayed at Renee’s side all those months while she was sick? I don’t think he’s even been on a date since she died. No one will believe those accusations.”

“You never know these days,” said Mike. “A girl cries sexual harassment and ‘Bam!’ ‘Throw the guy in jail.’ ‘Guilty until proven innocent;’ that’s how it is these days. Come on, you watch the news.”

“I’m volunteering at the school this morning. I’m gonna nose around a little and see what I can find out.”

“Oh, no you don’t. Don’t get mixed up in this. I know you want to help, so do I. I think we need to let the police handle this. If you want to help ask around for lawyer recommendations or bake Tank some lasagna. Wait, on second thought, nix the lasagna.” Susan knew Mike hadn’t married her for her cooking ability.

“Sure. I can do that.” Susan hoped she sounded enthusiastic enough to appease Mike.

He gave her a kiss and locked the front door on his way out.

Susan cleared the table, filled up the cat food bowls, and ran upstairs to get ready. She was going to find out what they had on Tank one way or another. She jumped into her Prius and headed to the school.
I’m going to get to the bottom of this
, she thought, feeling a twinge of excitement in her stomach.

Chapter 4

Susan opened the heavy glass door and walked into the main building of Westbrook High where she was greeted by a friendly voice. As she took out her driver’s license, she chatted with the receptionist who was behind the front counter. She’d known her for many years.

“Have I missed any good gossip since last week? I heard some buzz about a sexual harassment suit,” said Susan.

“Since you asked,” said the receptionist, “Rumors have been flying. The police were here yesterday. There was a hush-hush meeting behind closed doors after school. I left before it ended, but as I was getting ready to go, I heard raised voices coming from the principal’s office.”

“Hmm, that sounds juicy,” said Susan.

“Remember, you didn’t hear anything from me. Mum’s the word.” Mary Ellen covered her ears in a ‘hear no evil’ pose.

“Didn’t hear a thing,” said Susan. She left the office and proceeded down the hall to the media center where the media specialist was busily straightening the chairs and piling up books that had been left on the tables.

“These kids never put things back where they belong,” she said. “They don’t listen either. They’re supposed to stay away from the construction site, but do they? No. They keep tracking dirt all over the floor.”

“Don’t worry, Janet. I’ll get it taken care of.” Knowing how obsessive-compulsive Janet was, Susan immediately got to work.

“Janet, what have you heard about the sexual harassment rumors going around the school?” said Susan.

“Oh, I hear it was that Amber girl who stirred things up. That girl’s trouble. The boys swoon over her and Lord does she use that to her advantage. I’ve seen them copying articles for her, typing papers, doing homework. She’s a real user as they used to say in my generation.”

“Do the teachers like her?” asked Susan.

“No, they don’t like her. I’ve seen her act mighty nasty to some of them. Last year, she happened to be in the media center along with Mr. Copland and the rest of her class when the principal announced over the loudspeaker that Joey Martin had won the National Science Contest. The girl went ballistic. Had herself a little temper tantrum right here in the middle of the media center. Mr. Copland––you know that man is always a gentleman. He calmly picked up my phone over on the desk and called Security. They suspended her for a few days. Hope those high-falooting colleges she’s trying to get into get wind of that. Come to think of it, they won’t. Amber’s daddy takes care of every little problem that girl ever has.”

Susan heard the turnstile at the entrance, and turned to see Julie Martin enter. Julie was an athletically-built science teacher whose dark hair stood out in contrast to her fair skin. A sprinkling of freckles across her nose and upper cheeks was partially concealed with foundation. Susan greeted her.

“Congratulations. I saw your son on
Sixty Minutes
last week. You must be so proud of him, winning that big science contest.”

“Oh, I sure am. I was proud of him way before he won the contest. He makes it easy to be a single mother.”

“Yes, I feel sorry for the parents of some of these kids. Some are downright disrespectful, and slobs to boot,” said Susan, as she neatened a pile of books.

“Mean spirited too,” added Julie. “Do you know that when Joey won the contest, one of his classmates––Amber Bernstein––wrote all over Twitter that he’d stolen her idea? Can you believe it?”

“I do believe it. Guess there’s a lot of competition these days,” said Susan.

“That’s no excuse. That Amber girl is poison.” Julie looked at her watch. “I have to get back to my classroom. Planning period goes so fast.”