The Skeleton Takes a Bow (A Family Skeleton Mystery) (6 page)

“M
om! We’ve got news!” Madison said. She dropped her backpack onto the floor with a loud thump and ran into the living room with Sid’s bowling bag. As she unzipped it and put Sid’s skull on the coffee table, he added, “Big news! There were police at school this afternoon!”

“They found the body?” I asked.

“We don’t know—nobody told us anything,” Madison said indignantly. “All we know is that a police car showed up right after lunch, and the cops were still there when school let out.”

“I wanted Madison to leave me out somewhere,” Sid groused. “Then when a student turned me in to lost-and-found, I’d have been in a prime location for listening.”

“And I told him it was a terrible idea!” Madison said. “What if the kid who found you decided to keep you?”

“But—”

“Madison’s right, Sid,” I said. “It would have been too risky.”

“Anyway,” Madison said, “the cops were in Mr. Dahlgren’s office, and lost-and-found is kept in the secretary’s office, so you wouldn’t have heard anything anyway.”

“They were just in the principal’s office? Didn’t they seal off the auditorium to examine the crime scene?” I asked.

Madison shook her head. “I heard the jazz band rehearsing in the auditorium, so it definitely wasn’t sealed off.”

“So what were they doing?”

“We don’t know. There was nothing about it in the afternoon announcements. But I did see a couple of teachers heading into the office as soon as the afternoon bell rang.”

“Which ones?”

“Mr. Chedworth and Ms. Rad. And that’s all we know. I guess we should have stayed at school to see what else we could find out.”

“No, no, this is fine. The body must have been found and now that the police are on the job, it’s not our problem. There’s no reason to draw their attention to you. We can wait until the story goes public.”

Sid looked aggravated. “Well, I can’t—I’m dying of curiosity. Or I would be if I weren’t, you know, already dead. Madison, can you take me upstairs so I can get onto my computer? Maybe the news has hit the Web!”

She hastily obliged and I was right behind them. We were most of the way up when Sid noticed that Byron was behind me.

“Don’t let that dog into my attic!” he said.

“Sorry, fellow,” I said, giving him a couple of good pats before closing the attic door with him on the other side.

Before long Sid had pulled himself together and was tapping enthusiastically away while Madison and I watched from either shoulder. I considered pointing out that Madison sure seemed to be sold on Sid’s story of overheard murder, but I didn’t want to spoil the moment.

“No body,” Sid said.

“Just like you,” I couldn’t help saying.

“Mom!” Madison objected.

“What? It was funny, wasn’t it, Sid?”

“Not your best effort, but not your worst.” Tap, tap, tap. “I’m still not finding any mention of any bodies being found in the area.”

“But the police were at the school!” Madison said.

I said, “Sid, search for recent mentions of Pennycross High School or the principal: Mr. Dahlgren.”

“Good idea.” Tap, tap, tap. “And I have a hit for PHS!”

He pulled up a news story, but it wasn’t about a murder. It wasn’t even a Pennycross listing—it was from the
Medford Transcript
, the paper in Medford, Massachusetts. “‘Medford man missing,’” I read over his shoulder.

“Gotta give ’em points for alliteration,” Sid said.

I read the rest of the article. “‘Medford resident Robert Irwin, twenty-nine, has been missing since last week when he failed to pick up Melissa Laplante, his girlfriend, when she flew into Logan Airport Friday evening after a business trip. When Laplante was still unable to reach Irwin by phone the next day, she went to his High Street apartment. Not only was Irwin not there, but accumulated mail led her to believe that he had been gone for several days. She notified the police, and after investigation they found that the last confirmed sighting of Irwin was in Pennycross, Massachusetts, this past Thursday. He had driven to Pennycross to meet with officials at Pennycross High School about a job opportunity, but witnesses report that he dined at the River Inn in town several hours after the interview. Irwin was last seen wearing a dark gray pin-striped suit and was driving a dark blue Honda Accord with Massachusetts plates. The Pennycross Police Department has been assisting with inquiries, and anyone with information about the missing man is asked to contact either the Medford or Pennycross police.’”

Sid rummaged around the Web a little more, but the
Transcript
article seemed to include all the available details.

“Do you think this Robert Irwin was the man Sid heard being murdered?” Madison asked.

“Either he was, or he’s somehow connected. What are the odds that a disappearance and a murder linked to the same location, on the same night, aren’t connected?”

“I wish we knew what his voice sounded like,” Sid said. “Wait, maybe we can find out.” His metatarsals flew across his keyboard, and a minute later he said, “I’ve got his home phone number.”

“He’s missing, Sid. I don’t think he’s going to answer.”

“But he probably has an answering machine, and he might have recorded his own answering machine message.”

“That’s brilliant,” Madison said, and I couldn’t argue with her.

Sid used his own cell phone to call the man’s number, but put it on speakerphone so we could all hear. After only three rings we heard, “Hi, this is Robert Irwin. I’m not at home now, but if you’ll leave your name, phone number, and a brief message after the beep, I’ll get back to you.”

Sid hung up without waiting for the beep and said, “What was he doing, reading from a script? No creativity, not even any personality.”

“It sounds like most people’s messages,” I said, thinking of my own exceedingly bland one. “But artistic critique aside, do you think it was him?”

He hesitated. “Let me listen again.” He repeated the process and sat thinking so hard I could almost see the wheels turning. If, of course, he’d had wheels in his skull. “One more time.” He repeated the procedure.

Finally he said, “It was him.”

“You’re sure?” I said.

“One hundred percent certain.”

“How can you be that sure?” Madison said. “I mean, you barely heard him at the school, and that message was, what, ten seconds?”

“It was him,” Sid insisted.

“Madison, you have to realize something about Sid. Other than unusual events like Halloween and that anime convention back in the fall, the only contact Sid has ever had with people outside this family has been from listening to them from the attic or from the armoire in the living room or from wherever he hid when somebody else came into the house. He recognizes people from their voices as accurately as I can from their faces. Maybe more so—I knew a pair of twins, and I used to get them mixed up, and Sid never did. He may not have ears, technically speaking, but he is the best eavesdropper in the world.”

Most people wouldn’t take being called an eavesdropper as a compliment, but Sid looked inordinately pleased with himself.

I went on. “So if he says Robert Irwin was the man he heard being murdered, then I guarantee that Robert Irwin is dead.”

“Okay, then,” Madison said. “What next?”

“Well, I hate to sound like a broken record, but I still say it’s a job for the police. I already told them what Sid heard, and now they’ll be able to make the connection with the disappearance.”

“Come on, Georgia,” Sid said. “Deborah told us what they thought of your call. They’ve probably already forgotten about it.”

“He may be right, Mom.”

“Yeah, you’ve got a point. Perhaps it’s time for another call.” So while Madison took Byron for his much-delayed walk, I took a drive to find another pay phone. I knew I was being paranoid from watching too many episodes of
Leverage
, but I just wasn’t comfortable making the call from our landline and didn’t want to call from the same phone as last time, either. It took me long enough to find a pay phone that I was actually starting to wonder about how much a burner phone would cost and exactly where I could buy one.

I finally spotted a pay phone outside a drugstore, parked, and tried to walk casually over to the phone, which meant I tripped over the curb and nearly ran into a shopping cart. So much for being circumspect. Fortunately nobody paid any attention to me as I dialed the number.

“Pennycross Police Department Tips Line,” that same voice said, sounding just as bored as she had the first time I called.

“I need to report something about that missing person, Robert Irwin.”

“Yes?”

“I don’t know if you’re the person I talked to before, but a few days ago I called in a tip about a suspicious incident at Pennycross High School’s auditorium. A friend of mine said he’d heard something that sounded like a man being bludgeoned to death.”

“Yes, I remember your previous call quite well.”

It was probably physically impossible to hear somebody’s eyes roll, but as the mother of a teenager, I can sense when it’s happening. I went on anyway. “At the time I thought it was something to do with the body that had just been found, but that was before I found out that that body was a woman and an overdose victim. So now I’m thinking that the murder my friend overheard has something to do with Irwin’s disappearance. I’m pretty sure that he was the victim, and that the murderer hid the body somewhere.”

“Do you—I mean, does your friend have a reason for suspecting that Mr. Irwin was the victim in this alleged event? I seem to recall that you—that nobody actually saw the event.”

“No, he didn’t see anything,” I admitted, “but it stands to reason, don’t you think? Since Irwin is missing? I know the police took a look at the auditorium when I called before.”

“Oh?” she said.

I realized I shouldn’t have been so certain about that—it implied more knowledge than I was supposed to have. “I mean, I’m sure they investigated because you guys are so thorough. But now that we know who the victim was, probably, it might be worth more investigation.”

“I’ll certainly pass on the information,” she said. “Are you sure you—or your friend—don’t want to come to the station so we can get all the details?”

“I’m sure,” I said. “You know all I do—I’m confident that you guys can handle it from here.” Then I hung up and walked back to my car, going as fast as I could without running. At least I didn’t trip again.

“What did they say?” Sid wanted to know as soon as I got back home. He and Madison had been waiting for me in the living room.

“It’s not really a conversation—I give information, I don’t get any back. She did ask a few questions, but nothing I could answer.”

“But she believed you, right?” Madison asked. “The police are going to investigate?”

“I hope so.”

“They have to,” Sid said, sounding as if he was trying to convince himself. “I just hope they wait until tomorrow to process the scene so I can be there to watch them go all
CSI
.”

It seemed to me that if the police believed me, they’d investigate that night and not wait for the trail to get even colder, but then again, it seemed to me that the woman I’d spoken to still thought I was a nut job.

T
he rest of the evening was spent on normal stuff; at least, it was for me and Madison. We had dinner; she did homework; I cleaned the kitchen. Meanwhile Sid scoured the Web for more information about the missing man and kept checking local news outlets to see if anything investigative was happening at PHS. He was still at it when those of us in the family who require sleep retired for the night, though by the time I got up the next morning, I think he’d temporarily abandoned his efforts in favor of online gaming.

The second of the semester’s three required essays was due on Friday, so I had an avalanche of work to look forward to for the weekend, but nothing of note happened otherwise. I did take Charles out to lunch after I noticed he seemed as if he’d been upset by the time spent packing up his dead friend’s apartment, and I think it cheered him up some. I also found myself checking my cell phone over and over again, hoping there’d be a text from Sid, but there was nothing.

It was ridiculous to be so focused on murder on a day like that. Spring had arrived with a triumphant fanfare, bringing along a bright, clear blue sky. The temperature was perfect for opening windows sealed all winter long, and a breeze was blowing away every bit of academic interest for students and faculty alike.

When only one student showed up for the first half of my office hours that afternoon, I decided to play hooky for the rest of the day. If anybody showed up—which seemed incredibly unlikely on such a spectacular day—they’d find a note to send me an e-mail with any questions. Then I headed out into the glorious day myself.

I just barely beat the others home. As I was unlocking the front door, Madison pulled up on her bicycle with Sid’s bowling bag in the basket.

“Well?” I asked when we were all inside and Byron had been appropriately greeted.

But before Madison could answer, there was a muffled complaint from Sid’s bowling bag, so she unzipped it so he could join in.

“Jeez, a guy could suffocate in there!” he said.

“Sorry,” Madison said.

“Ignore him,” I advised. “He doesn’t breathe. No lungs, and if he did have any, they’d be up in the attic with the rest of him.”

“Technically true, but it still
feels
stuffy. Probably because I feel cranky.”

“The police didn’t show, did they?” I asked.

Madison shook her head.

“Coccyx!” I said.

“I know!” Sid said. “Somebody take me up to my body, will you? I want to hit something.”

“You do it, Madison,” I said. “You’re younger than I am.”

“I just rode home on a bike while you were seated in a luxurious minivan.”

“One, I’m impressed you can call our minivan luxurious, even in jest. Two, all that bike riding means that you’re in considerably better physical shape than I am and therefore better able to withstand the trip.”

“Sid, can’t the rest of you just come downstairs by itself?” she asked.

“Sorry, kiddo, I don’t make the rules.”

“Then who does?” she asked.

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, we all know your existence doesn’t really make sense, right?”

“So you’re not buying my story about having been bitten by a radioactive skeleton?” he said with a grin.

“That’s a new one,” I said. The most logical theory we’d ever come up with was the idea of a ghost haunting his own remains, but in that case, why had he lost all memories of his life before waking as a skeleton? Most ghosts were all about the memories, after all, or they wouldn’t know who to haunt.

Apparently Madison wasn’t buying the story. “Anyway, it seems to me that you’re the only one who sets your limits.”

“Like in
Roger Rabbit
,” I said.

They both turned to look at me.

“Remember that scene when Eddie the detective and Roger are handcuffed together? Eddie tries to saw through the cuffs and gets mad when Roger slips out to make it easier for him. He says, ‘Do you mean to tell me you could’ve taken your hand out of that cuff at any time?’ And Roger says, ‘No, not at any time. Only when it was funny.’”

They continued to stare at me.

“I just thought it was applicable.”

They stared a moment longer. Then Sid said, “So, Madison, about the rest of my bones . . . ?”

“Fine!” She made an exasperated noise I would never be able to describe or repeat and stomped up the stairs carrying Sid’s skull. A few minutes later they returned, and both of them were stomping a bit. Well, technically Sid was just making louder rattles, but it was the closest he could get to stomping.

I said, “Okay, starting Monday, Sid can leave his skeleton in the armoire in the morning and then nobody will have to lug him up the stairs. Will that make everybody happy?”

“Yeah, that’ll work,” Madison said.

“Good. Now you two can stop stomping. Madison, you’re going to knock the pictures off the wall, and Sid, you’re going to break a bone.”

“Speaking of broken bones,” Madison said, taking her seat on the couch again, “Mr. Chedworth fell down the stairs at school today.”

“Jeez! Is he okay?”

“There’s been no official word, but the rumor mill says they had to call an ambulance to take him to the emergency room.”

“The rumor mill speaks truly,” Sid said. “I heard the EMTs arriving and then taking him away. He was conscious, at least—I heard him talking. I don’t think he sounded like the killer, but it wasn’t the best opportunity to listen to his voice.”

“Sid!” Madison said. “The man fell down the stairs.”

“Did he fall, or was he pushed?” Sid speculated. “Did anybody see it?”

“Yes, Liam was there—and no, he did not push him,” Madison said. “Anyway, I heard that he broke his leg or maybe his foot, which is bad at his age.”

“Broken bones are bad at any age,” Sid said with a noisy shudder.

I said, “Madison, remind me. Which one is Chedworth?”

“White hair, reddish face, chair of English Department, has been teaching since the founding of Massachusetts. I have him for SAT prep. Since he wasn’t there for class, Samantha drew him a card and all of us in the class signed it. Ms. Rad said she was going to go visit him after school and that she’d take it to him.”

Sid said, “Since the subject of people missing from school has been raised—”

“Smooth segue, Sid,” I said.

He ignored me. “So what’s the next step of the investigation? I mean, if the police aren’t going to do anything, we’re going to have to.”

“Sid, I’m sorry, but I’m out of ideas,” I said.

“Madison?” he asked. “You wanted in on this. Any out-of-the-box ideas?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve got nothing.”

“But we’ve got to do something!” he said. “The police are completely ignoring this important link, and there’s a murderer on the loose.”

“We know, we know,” Madison said with some irritation. “What do
you
think we should do?”

Sid’s jawbone moved up and down a few times, but no words came out.

“That’s what I thought,” Madison said.

Sid’s jaw moved again, and I was pretty sure words were going to come out this time and that I wasn’t going to like them. “Look, we’re all tired and we’re all frustrated. It’s been a long week, so why don’t we let it alone for a while?” Before Sid could argue, I added, “Just for a while. Madison, why don’t you take Byron for a walk? The weather is gorgeous.”

“Good idea,” she said, still glaring at Sid. “Mind if I go to Wray’s, too?”

“Sure, no problem.” I handed over her allowance just in case a comic or volume of manga needed to come home with her, and she and Byron went happily on their way.

Sid had moved onto the couch and was sitting with his arms crossed, looking rebellious. “Comic books? When there’s a murderer on the loose?”

“Even cops take time off,” I reminded him as I sat down beside him. “We’re not giving up, Sid. We’re just regrouping.”

“Yeah, right.”

“A few hours of doing other things, maybe even taking the whole evening off, is just what we need. We do have other things going on in our lives.”

“No, Georgia. You and Madison have lives.”

“Oh, Sid,” I said helplessly. “Are you really that miserable?”

“No, no, not really. It’s just that I feel so useless. You’ve got a job—you’re teaching kids and you’re making the money to support the house. Plus there’s all you do to take care of Madison. Madison has school and choral ensemble and drama and friends, and she’s taking care of Byron. What do I do for anybody?”

“You have lots of online friends.”

“I don’t think that sharing cat pictures and
Star Trek
jokes is adding that much to anybody’s life.”

“You’re helping Madison in her play. You help us around the house.”

“Being a prop and putting away groceries. There’s a pair of achievements to be proud of.”

“You do more than that,” I said, but I didn’t think that pointing out how many loads of laundry he’d done in the past week or the times he’d run the dishwasher would make him feel any better. “Do I have to remind you of how we met and what you did for me when I was pregnant with Madison? Not to mention more recent incidents?”

“And how long ago was that? What do I do for the family
now
? I can’t get a job—even if I knew how to do anything, I couldn’t get a job. Not like I am.” He held up his bony hands and stared at them.

“It’s not that bad.” I was hoping to jolly him out of his black mood, but instead I said one of the most monumentally stupid things I’d said in a long time. “Look at Byron. He doesn’t add to the family revenue stream, and it doesn’t bother him a bit.”

“I’m not a pet, Georgia,” he snapped.

“Oh jeez, Sid, of course you aren’t. I didn’t mean it that way, I just meant—”

“I know what you meant, but— But sometimes I don’t know
what
I am.” His voice was tight, and if he’d been able to cry, I think he would have.

My eyes filled for him. I reached for his hand and held it between mine. “You’re my friend, Sid. You are the best friend I’ve ever had, and I am so lucky to have you.”

“Thank you, and I know you mean it—”

“You can bet your coccyx I mean it.”

“Okay, you mean it, but Georgia, it just isn’t enough for me. I know I’m being ungrateful—my world is so much bigger than it was before you came back to Pennycross—but some days it just reminds me of how much I can’t do. I thought finding this killer was something I could do.”

“Sid, I am not giving up on finding that killer. We’ll come up with something, okay?”

“Pinkie swear?”

“Shouldn’t that be phalange swear?”

“How about a phalange vow, then?”

“Deal!” I said, and we completed the ritual entwinement of fingers. “Tell you what. You can start earning your keep right now and help me make pizza for dinner.”

“Can I flip the dough into the air?”

“As long as you clean it off the floor after you drop it.”

When Madison brought Byron home, she found us laughing and covered in flour, which got the evening off to the right start. After a night of watching TV together, we all felt better.

Of course, I knew it was only a temporary reprieve. In fact, even if we did manage to get our amateur investigation back on track and find the missing body and the killer, it would still be a short-lived resolution to Sid’s problem. Whether it was a job, a vocation, or a hobby—he needed something that was his own.

I kept thinking about how Sid had come into my life. I’d been in trouble, and I’d needed his help—that was the only possible explanation for why the skeleton of a murdered man had suddenly started to walk and talk. He continued to hold himself together because I still needed him. As far as I was concerned, I always would. But what if he ever stopped believing that? What if he decided he wasn’t important to me? I was afraid that he’d just fall apart and fade away. For good.