“I haven’t been able to find anyone who knows why she left. Can’t help wondering if it was just a coincidence of timing: she’d decided to move along and the annulment provided the perfect excuse. Maybe a school in California offered a better major. Or maybe she wasn’t as agreeable to his situation as she pretended.”
“Possible.” Jarvis drew his notebook from a breast pocket. He’d already copied the information for Rodriguez. He tore out the page and waited for the friendly-faced man to read it. “Try talking to her old roommate. Name’s Debbie Fingerman.”
Rodriguez pointed at the paper. “Where’d you get this name? I kept hitting dead ends. You been able to interview her?”
“Got her name from the other woman on the list, Vicki Fredette, who works in the college office. Worked with Gwen back then too. And no, there was no time to talk to Fingerman. Apparently she’s married to the third name on the list—a Jason Ellis.”
“Great. Appreciate it.” He folded the paper and stuffed it into his shirt pocket. “I’ll let you know what I find out.”
“I think the Fredette woman’s got a lot more to tell. Some judicious memory-jogging would probably help. Deeper questions than can be done over the phone. Got it in the budget to go down there?”
Rodriguez’s laugh was cut short by the arrival of the waitress. Jarvis leaned back while she poured more coffee. As she walked away, he watched her rear end, wishing he’d stayed at the hotel with Angelina. When he looked back Rodriguez’s eyebrows were raised. He rolled his eyes and grinned.
“I checked out that photograph your lady friend found.” Rodriguez doctored his coffee. “I was able to learn through a check of some very skimpy financial records—and believe me, they were skimpy since it was twenty-some years ago—that the deceased transferred to the University of California where she got a degree in childhood education.”
Jarvis nodded.
“You knew?”
“No, but last night, my lady friend, as you call her, suggested we check the résumé Gwen provided to Carlson High School. This would also tell us if she hid the arrest information. Angelina planned to check with the principal today but she got sidetracked with all the crap going on.”
“Angelina?” Rodriguez leaned forward as if about to share a secret. “Angelina Deacon?”
“Yeah, why?”
“She was in the paper recently for solving a murder in your area.”
“She’s solved several.”
“She working on this one?”
Jarvis shook his head. “Last month, during that case you read about, we were both almost killed—twice. Because of it, she’s sworn off investigating.” Jarvis smeared jelly on a wedge of white toast. If Angelina saw him eating what she called “that white goop” he’d hear about it. He took a bite and chewed. Maybe she was right, since switching to the whole-grain stuff, this really didn’t taste very good. Or maybe it was just guilt. He swallowed and set down the rest of the slice. “I asked her to go see the principal, to ask about the résumé. Seemed easy enough.”
Rodriguez laughed. “I know what you’re doing—you’re keeping her involved.” Jarvis shot him a sly smirk, to which Rodriguez replied, “You’re different than most cops I know. They’re very territorial about their cases but you don’t mind her poking her nose into things.”
He said, “She doesn’t poke,” but knew that wasn’t true. When Angelina got her hooks into a case, she was like a rabid raccoon. “I only care that the cases are solved before anybody else gets hurt.”
“Your lady is good at putting clues together?”
“She’s amazing.”
“And best of all she’s right there on-scene.” Rodriguez drained his cup. “Hey, do you think I should talk to her? Maybe I could convince her to help.”
Who knew—she might have a soft spot for a stranger’s request. “Give it a try; maybe you’ll have better luck. She’s staying at the Marriot on Tara Boulevard.”
“I’ll catch her at the school in a couple hours. I sure hope she’ll help. Having this involved with school kids scares the crap out of me.”
“I think it’s part of the reason she’s holding back. Afraid of putting them in danger.”
“Makes sense, but if somebody’s setting fires, they’re in danger anyway.”
Jarvis set down his fork. “She probably doesn’t realize it but way in the back of her brain, she’s working this thing out. I keep feeding her information.” He grinned. “Whatever I can do to help the cause. So, what else you got?”
Rodriguez shifted back into official mode. “The deceased got her degree from UC in ‘96. From there she moved back east. We lost track of her for a while, but she turned up again here in Carlson about five years ago. Can’t find any family here that she would’ve moved to be near.”
“Maybe she liked the weather.”
“Better than California? Yeah, sure. Anyway, I’m still working on it.”
Jarvis placed his fork and knife across the empty plate and pushed it toward the edge of the table. Rodriguez did likewise, setting his atop Jarvis’s.
“You looking seriously at the boyfriend Chalmers for this?”
“No.” Rodriguez slapped both palms on the table. “Right now, like I said, I’m zoned in on that kid—what’s her name—Kiana Smith.”
TWENTY
Kiana should be sleeping. She’d lost three hours last night and would lose more tonight. She needed to rest. But she could do nothing but lay there thinking about what Evan overheard between Mr. Chalmers and Gwen. What exactly was the wording? “Do that to you” and “think like that.” Kiana expanded the words into complete sentences. “Why would I do that to you?” and “How could you think like that?”
Obviously Mr. Chalmers accused Ms. Forest of something. Even with her limited love experience, Kiana knew those words often related to people cheating on each other. It couldn’t be in this case. Ms. Forest wasn’t like that. She hated people who cheated—she’d said so herself when one of the other kids mentioned the reason her parents were separating.
Of course, many more meanings could be construed into the words. Simple things like why had she made hamburger for dinner when she knew he hated it. How could you think I’d do something like that? The thought made Kiana grin. She’d have to tell Evan. Maybe it’d help him stop worrying. Not! He’d said if it was something silly like that, they wouldn’t be throwing things.
Well, she’d say it if she ever spoke to him again after he ditched her like that. She’d thought she had one loyal friend in the world. Still, it was odd; if Mr. Chalmers started the argument by making accusations of any kind, whether about cheating or hamburger, why was Ms. Forest the one who got angry? Maybe because the accusations were so ludicrous, so off the wall, they pissed her off. Or they were things they’d rehashed a dozen times before. That could piss off even the most laid-back person.
Did the fact that this happened almost a month ago negate it from being related to her murder? Why would Evan worry the argument was related to Ms. Forest’s death—unless he suspected Mr. Chalmers of killing her?
Which was just as dumb as thinking Ms. Forest would cheat on him.
That line of thinking gave Kiana a headache so she switched to wondering about the fire. If the janitor started it, the first question would be, why? Seemed stupid to take a chance of destroying an entire school, and maybe hurting someone, in order to pay back a couple of kids for not handing over a picture taken so many years ago. Which made Kiana wonder about the photo itself—and whether the janitor really could be the man with his arm around Ms. Forest. Might be time to find out exactly who this guy was. Maybe they should be searching his belongings instead of the teachers’.
What did he say his name was? Lincoln somebody. For the life of her she couldn’t remember. But she would. She just needed to put her mind to work for a while.
From the bedside table, the alarm on Kiana’s cell phone rang. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, unsure when she’d fallen asleep but grateful she finally had. The LED display on the clock showed 4:31. She got dressed as quietly as possible, then tiptoed downstairs, skipping the squeaky fourth step from the top, and scribbled a note for Mom while she munched on a toaster pastry. The thermometer said it was 43º so she grabbed gloves and a headband from the top shelf in the closet.
Outside, the brisk air filled her lungs and woke them with a start. Kiana turned right and started along the sidewalk toward school. Searching Mr. Reynolds’ home would have to wait till she got to his office and found the address. Added to the list—at the top—was to get that janitor’s home address also. Stupid not to have thought of it sooner. Were the cops looking at him as a suspect too?
Kiana had just made the turn onto the main street when a familiar sound chugged up behind. Evan came to a stop beside her. She was very glad he’d changed his mind about coming. Last night she’d been so hurt that he quit, she wouldn’t think about the possibility of his return. She didn’t waste a second squeezing into the helmet and climbing aboard the motorcycle. He looked in the mirror to check for traffic, then whipped the small bike into the lane and drove to the school. They parked in the same place as the day before and made their way to the same entrance.
In a whisper, she told him her thoughts regarding the janitor. Evan slapped himself on the side of the helmet. “Man, why didn’t we think of him before?” They stowed the helmets and backpacks, then skulked along the walk to Mr. Reynolds’ office door.
Again it was unlocked. Again the red security lights lit the secretary’s chamber. They went right to work with Evan in Mr. Reynolds’ office, Kiana in Miss Shaw’s.
Kiana found the personnel folder. Lincoln Underwood’s information was last. First on the top of the page: his home address. He lived only three blocks from—
“Oh. My. God.”
Evan’s hoarsely uttered words had Kiana scrambling to jam the folder back in place. With two sheets of paper in-hand, she ran to the other office. Evan stood in the far corner, a tin wastebasket with a picture of the Grand Canyon in one hand, something small in the other. It was the small object that caused his exclamation.
“Oh. My. God,” he said again.
Kiana took the object from his fingers. It was a simple rainbow arch decal, the vinyl kind that magnetically adhered to bumpers or back car windows. She turned it over a couple of times then put it in her pocket, unsure what upset Evan so badly. Yes, she knew the significance of it, and obviously so did Evan. But big deal if Mr. Reynolds was gay. Homosexuality was nothing remarkable these days…unless Justin Bieber said he was, or something like that.
She took the two sheets of paper purloined from the personnel file and ran them through the copier. The rainbow decal did explain a few things. Well, more than a few things. Like, maybe Gwen had been killed because she found out about Mr. Reynolds and threatened to tell people. It didn’t sound like something Gwen would do. She usually wasn’t vindictive, and she wasn’t anti-gay but sometimes people did unexpected things.
Evan stood stiffly in the corner, dismay oozing from every pore. Kiana poked him in the arm. He followed robot-like, to the small janitor’s room tucked under a stairway at the back of the school. The room was locked. How could they get in? Wait for one of them to arrive, of course—then Evan could distract him while she searched. He might insist on doing it the other way around but right now he was in no shape to do anything more than act as a decoy. She would’ve liked to look in Mr. Philmore’s class but time had gotten away from them once again. She led Evan back to the bike.
He stood beside it without moving. It was time to get to the root of the problem. “What is wrong with you? Scratch that, I know you’re about to say nothing’s the matter so I’ll reword the question: what is wrong with Mr. Reynolds being gay?”
Evan sucked in a long breath and let the words out on the exhale. “It’s gross. It’s disgusting. It’s against everything the bible teaches.”
“I know, but it’s his choice. It’s none of our bus—”
“It is! If he’s coming in contact with kids every day.”
“Evan, being gay only means he doesn’t like women. It has nothing at all to do with kids.”
His objection raised an interesting point. Would the school board be so lenient? Would they too worry it would somehow reflect on the student body?
“One thing you should consider before getting all down on him. It is possible he confiscated that decal from a student.” She said this even though she didn’t believe it. Kiana put on the helmet and nudged him to do the same. “Come on, let’s go to his house.”
“What!”
“That was the original plan. Let’s stick with it and get this over with.”
“He’s probably there.”
“I’m sure he is.” She swung her leg over the seat and spread them wide so he could settle himself between. “We were going to wait till he leaves.”
“What if—”
“Evan…”
“Okay, okay.”
What was it about men? One little bump in the road and they got all weirded out. Mr. Reynolds lived on the first floor of a three-family apartment building. Lights glowed behind the drawn shades. His car sat in the driveway beside three others.
“What now, Sherlock?” Evan asked.
He didn’t have to be rude. She shot him a look then went to see if Mr. Reynolds’ car doors were locked. As she checked the driver’s side, the front door of the apartment house burst open. A movement to her left said Evan had thrown himself into the bushes at the property boundary.
Kiana jumped away from the car. No time to heave herself into the greenery beside Evan. A round woman approached. She wore a blue NY Giants jacket that made her look even bigger. Now probably wasn’t the time to say so.
“What are you doing in Randy’s car?” Her hand reached into one of the enormous pockets and groped around.
Reaching for a gun? Cell phone?
TWENTY-ONE
Kiana put up a palm. “Wait. Wait. I’m not a thief. I’m not
in
his car.” Kiana pulled in a breath and prepared to tell the biggest whopper of her burgeoning crime-fighting career. She lowered her voice and ducked her head close to the woman. Get shot up close or from a few feet away—not much difference as far as she was concerned.