Like soldiers on a mission, they removed helmets and slipped the straps over the seat rest. Kiana slung her bag over one shoulder. The first search on the agenda was Mr. Chalmers’ office. Since he had been suspended from school—he must be the authorities’ main suspect. Therefore, she and Evan would focus their initial investigation on him.
Before leaving school Evan had taped the lock on the door leading to Mr. Reynolds’ outdoor office. About a week ago, he noticed that nobody had gotten around to installing the security system around the new construction. At that time he never expected the information to come in handy. Yet, here they were.
The brick wall was cool. They clung close all the way to the outdoor office. Evan twisted the doorknob and they slipped inside. The only light came through the glass front of the outer office, a red glow given off by the security system mounted in most of the hallways.
They hurried from the office and ran on rubber-soled feet to the gym two right hand turns and three long corridors away. Mr. Chalmers’ cubbyhole-sized office was tucked between the two locker rooms. Not locked. When they opened the door, Kiana realized why nobody bothered locking it. The place was a mess. Both his desk and a counter that stretched the length of the room were stacked a mile high with books, sports equipment and crumpled uniforms. Kiana even spotted a power saw. She was afraid to breathe for fear the mountain would come tumbling down, burying her and Evan forever. He pushed the door shut and turned on the light.
“Yuk, what’s that smell?”
Evan pointed at a mound of takeout containers in one corner.
Had the police inspection caused this catastrophe? No. This clutter was here already. Man, she would’ve hated being the cops assigned to look for evidence in this room. She also didn’t want to think what his house—where they would go later—looked like.
“So. Where do we start?” she asked.
“I’d say his desk. That’s a more private area, a more logical place to hide something.”
“You could hide an elephant anywhere in here.”
Evan nudged her arm. “You take the left side, I’ll take the right.”
He didn’t waste any time digging into the bottom drawer. Kiana knelt, first checking to make sure she wouldn’t put her hands in anything disgusting. Maggots crawling everywhere wouldn’t have surprised her.
“I wonder if he’ll notice we’ve been here,” Evan said.
“He’s banned from coming near the school till this is solved.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot. I guess that means we’re—woo-wee, what’s this?”
Glad for the delay, she looked over her shoulder to see Evan dangling a lacy neon green thong from his index finger.
Several images went through her mind right then—none of them good. First, she couldn’t believe Gwen would wear a thong, especially one in lime green. Kiana had pegged her mentor as the cotton brief type of person. The second image was one of Gwen and Mr. Chalmers in the process of removing that thong. The third image nearly made her barf. Gwen, a most fastidious housekeeper, and Mr. Chalmers had been doing it here—amongst this pigsty.
Evan twirled the underwear on his finger for several revolutions then let it fly. It landed atop a pair of sweat pants bearing the school’s panther logo. Evan laughed and disappeared back into the drawer.
“Glad you can find something amusing about all this.” Kiana sighed and pulled the top drawer open. She pawed through several handfuls of paper clips and pushpins, a box of staples, an unopened bottle of brandy, and a brand new box of condoms. “Eeuw.”
“What?”
She showed the two jock straps hanging from her fingers. She heaved them on top of the thong.
“Gimme the flashlight, please.”
Kiana dug it from her bag and handed it over. “Did you find something?”
“No, but it’s dark under here.” Evan, on all fours, shined the light under the desk.
She reluctantly went on to the second drawer. A jingling from Evan’s side of the desk delayed her search once again. This time, dangling from his finger was a trio of keys. One bore the Ford logo, obviously it went to Mr. Chalmers’ hatchback. Kiana recognized the keychain itself, a small silver panther. The kids sold them as a fundraiser last year. The other keys looked familiar. She drew her set from the chain around her neck. A comparison proved her suspicions: the keys matched the ones to Gwen’s office and apartment. Evan dropped them in his shirt pocket.
So far he’d done all the discovering. He was also the one who found a most distressing clue, a small container of lighter fluid and one of those long-stemmed fire starters Kiana’s father used to start their BBQ grill. Evan flicked the button. A small flame leaped from the end. Why would anyone in school need something like this?
“I know what you’re thinking,” Evan said, touching her arm. “Anybody could’ve put this stuff in here.”
He was right. “Should we give this to the cops?”
Evan shrugged. “Probably just our fingerprints on here now. Besides, haven’t the cops been here already? If they thought it was worth anything…”
“Come on, let’s go.” She moved to stow the lighter and fluid in her bag, but Evan stopped her.
“We don’t want to be caught carrying this.” He smudged at the fingerprints with the tail of his shirt then set the stuff back on the shelf where he’d found it.
They stepped out of the room and shut the door. A muffled sound came from the end of the hallway, in the auditorium.
“Mrs. Deacon’s here already,” Kiana whispered to Evan.
“Probably. Let’s get out of here. We can come back tomorrow.”
They hurried out to the motorbike and sped toward Mr. Chalmers’ house. The plan was—if he were home, they’d try to search his car. If not, they’d try to find a way inside. He lived in a sparsely populated area. Chances were the neighbors would be hyper-vigilant. Evan stopped the bike two blocks away, and they walked to the small cottage-style house. Kiana stifled her disappointment seeing the blue Ford in the driveway.
The grass was all bent over and brown on the tips. A rusty lawnmower sat abandoned in the center of the postage stamp sized yard. No way could Kiana picture Gwen coming here, but she had, frequently.
They tiptoed to the side of the car nearest an overgrown hedge. All the doors were unlocked. Kiana stood watch while Evan pawed through the multitude of to-go containers.
“Guess he doesn’t believe in cooking.”
He stood and shook his head. They eased the doors closed. Evan motioned for her to duck into the shrubbery. He had his cellphone in his hand and was dialing. “Mr. Chalmers, it’s Dawson—Dawson Young. I’m sorry if I woke you but there’s kind of an emergency at school…I know you’ve been suspended, and I know Mr. Todd has taken over coaching the team, but…can you just come? I’ll explain when you get here.”
Evan shoved the phone in his pocket. He urged Kiana deeper into the bushes and further back on the property. They didn’t have to wait long before the gym teacher raced from the house and sped away.
“Now, all we have to worry about is whether he locked the place.”
“Or if he has a Rottweiler.”
They tiptoed to the backyard and up to the door. The unlocked back door. Evan went in first, peering in all directions for a huge dog amidst the mess. No dog launched himself out of the rubble, but two kittens mewed from under the kitchen table. Kiana started to pick one up but Evan rushed her along. “He won’t be gone long.”
They performed a cursory search of the kitchen, bathroom and living room, finding nothing. Evan opened Mr. Chalmers’ bedroom door. The bed was unmade; the sheets and spread were heaped in the center. Evan searched the dresser. Kiana went for the closet. “Sheesh.”
“What’s wrong?”
When she didn’t reply, Evan appeared at her side. “Wow. There’s more of Ms. Forest’s clothes in here than his.”
Kiana fingered a lavender dress with a short flowing shirt. “This doesn’t look like anything I ever saw her wear.”
“Kee, we never saw her outside of school.”
Kiana had. Not in a dress-up sort of situation like this dress would go with—but she had been in Gwen’s apartment and never seen any indication her mentor wore thongs or frilly dresses. Gwen was a jeans and T-shirt kind of person most all the time. She slammed the door shut, not at all liking what her brain was saying—that Gwen might’ve been the kind of woman who played dress-up sex games.
She forced herself to ask, “Find anything in the dresser?”
Evan reached into a top drawer and came up with a handful of fancy underwear. “Just more of this. Come on, let’s get out of here.”
“There’s one more room.”
“Waste of time.”
Kiana took the initiative and pushed open the door to what was probably a spare bedroom. And nearly fainted. This room was perfect in every way, spotlessly clean. The pink canopy bed was covered in a frilly pink spread.
“Wow,” Evan said. “I didn’t know Mr. Chalmers had a daughter.”
“He must be divorced.”
“Well, at least one member of the family is neat. Let’s get out of here.” His words were calm but held a measure of trepidation, as though he’d learned something about his teacher that he hadn’t wanted to know. As they drove away, Evan’s voice came over the headphones, “I bet those underwear belonged to his wife.”
Kiana almost said the words that squeezed into her throat. His dead wife. And he killed her just like he killed my Gwen.
THIRTEEN
Jarvis and Irish Red arrived at the police department by 7 a.m. Jarvis carried a steaming jumbo-sized cup of coffee bought moments ago at the local drive-thru. He had printed the photo Angelina sent. It rested in the pocket of his flannel shirt. Red had finally reached the stage where she didn’t need a leash to go from the car to the station. She pranced along beside him.
They spent a moment in the inner lobby where the dispatcher made cooing sounds at the puppy and presented her with a St. Bernard sized treat. Finally Jarvis was able to extricate the pup from the dispatcher and they made their way to his office, the treat almost knocking Red over as she dragged it down the hallway.
He sat at the computer terminal, coffee in one hand, photo in the other, and Irish Red wedged between his feet. He laughed at how she just fit in the space under his desk. What would she do when she reached her full weight of sixty pounds? No—a better question would be, what would he do? Not that it was a question at all. No doubt he’d scrunch up his legs and go home all bowed up and arthritic looking, which would make Angelina laugh. She couldn’t understand his compulsion to keep the dog comfortable in spite of his own discomfort. Someday maybe she’d understand how dog owners acted around their
children
.
He set the coffee on the corner of the desk and punched keys to bring up marriage records. He knew the general year and probable location so it wasn’t long before the records appeared. Gwendoline Marcia Forest and Randall Jacob Reynolds were married by a Justice of the Peace in East Bridgewater, Massachusetts on December 14
th
, 1993. A few more keystrokes turned up their annulment on November 2
nd
of 1994. Eleven months was all it lasted. Sounded right. Eleven months was just long enough to become comfortable enough to desert your best behavior in favor for your normal personality.
Still not sure of the compulsion driving him to do this Jarvis telephoned the records office at Bridgewater State College. After a mere three minutes, he located a woman named Vicki Fredette who not only was willing to help but also remembered Gwen.
“Gwen worked with me here in the office for two years. A lovely girl, kind and polite. She stood out from the others in that way. Kids these days have forgotten about manners.”
“Do you remember her being with Randy Reynolds?”
“Heavens yes. Gwen was head over heels for him. I think he was a year older, so that’d make him a junior. I tried to warn them about jumping too quickly; these things never last, but you know how hearts can be at that age. They think nothing’s going to change that initial flood of passion.”
“What was Gwen’s major, can you remember?”
She was quiet a moment, then said, “I’ll have to check.” Jarvis waited while computer keys tapped in the background. “Oh yes, here it is. She entered as a major in business administration. Then in September of her sophomore year, she switched to childhood education. I have a note here that she worked part time in a local kindergarten.”
“Was switching like that anything unusual?”
“Definitely not. Students frequently ‘discover themselves’ after a year or so.”
“Did she work in the kindergarten to earn money?”
“I’d expect she was planning using it as part of her thesis for graduation.”
“What do you remember about Randy?”
“I always thought he was a little weird. A nice guy but a little weird. In spite of that, he and Gwen complemented each other pretty well. He wasn’t freaky weird or anything, just different. You know, like if all the other guys were wearing blue shirts, he’d be wearing a pink one.”
Jarvis made notes.
“I’ve always wondered if there was something physically wrong with him.”
“Care to elaborate on that?”
“Well, since I worked with Gwen I saw them a lot. They still held hands, but after say, around Christmas, they seemed different, like there was something wrong. No, not
wrong
in the sense of not getting along. I just had the idea something wasn’t
right.
You know what I mean?”
He did, sort of. “No idea what it could have been?”
“No. He still came and walked her home every day. And, like I said, they still held hands, still laughed together. There was just something different.” She sighed.
“So, you never asked.”
“No. It wasn’t my place. I figured if she wanted to tell me, she would.”
There was a moment of silence that Jarvis didn’t break. Good to let her arrange some thoughts. Finally she said, “I’m sorry, I guess all that gibberish wasn’t much help, was it?”
“Linda, you never know what’ll turn out to be helpful. When did they graduate?”
“Oh, Gwen never did, at least not from here. One day in early September of, let me see, it had to be ’94, Gwen and Randy came into the office and she gave her notice. She said she and Randy were getting an annulment and she was transferring out. She wouldn’t say where she was transferring but she wrote a few times after that. She never gave an address so I could write back, but the postmarks were from different towns in California.”