THIRTY-FIVE
Before the watery-eyed woman could hit the third number on her phone, Angie shot up a hand. “Wait. Please.”
If the kids hadn’t been here, she would’ve pretended to be a detective. Or maybe smooth-talked her with a giant lie. But lying and subterfuge weren’t things good role models did. So, Angie let blunt truth work in their favor. “Good morning. We’re from the high school. We’re looking for clues to Gwen’s murder.”
Evan’s eyes grew wide. These certainly weren’t words he expected Angie to say.
“Could you please shut the door?” Angie said. “We really don’t want to draw a crowd.”
The woman lowered the phone, did as requested. Angie stepped close with her hand out. “I’m Angie Deacon. I was hired to take Gwen’s place with the drama class. Evan,” she gestured toward the boy, who’d begun looking under the sofa, “and Kiana, who’s in the bedroom, are—were Gwen’s students.”
The woman took another moment to size up Evan and Angie—Kiana hadn’t come to see what the commotion was about. She slapped the phone shut. “Martha Benson.” Her voice was deep and raspy, a smoker’s voice. “You’ve made quite a mess here.”
“I can only hope you’ll believe it was like this when we arrived. I don’t imagine you saw or heard anything. This probably happened during the night.”
“I was at my daughter’s till around ten. A birthday party for my great-granddaughter. She turned six.” As she spoke her gaze took in the room. “What were they looking for?”
“We don’t know. They’ve done the same to the theater at the school. Were you and Gwen friends?” Angie asked.
Martha shook her head. “We had tea now and then.”
“Had she lived here long?”
“About two years. I’ve been a tenant for almost fifteen.”
“Did she, by any chance, ever give you something to hold for her?”
The woman’s face lit up. “Like, whatever they were searching for?”
Angie smiled.
“No. She didn’t give me anything to hold. Do they know who…did it?” She shook her head. “Of course they don’t. That’s why you’re here.”
“We thought we might find something the cops missed.”
She gave a small nod. “Happens on TV all the time.”
“Did Gwen have a lot of friends?”
Martha thought, then said, “I only know of three. One was that boyfriend. Ted, I think his name was.”
“Did you know he asked her to marry him?” Evan asked.
The grey eyebrows went up and then down. “They were getting married?”
“Ms. Forest hadn’t accepted.” Evan came to stand beside them. “You seem surprised to hear it.”
“I guess I am. I didn’t have the idea she was serious about him. She wouldn’t have to be for him to ask, would she? I mean, relationships don’t always go both ways.”
“You mentioned two other friends,” Angie said.
She nodded. “One was a pretty lady. Tall with reddish blonde hair.”
That would be Cilla. Martha went on to describe Randy. “Did they come around often?”
“Maybe once a week for the woman. Less than that for the man. Was she dating him too? I never wanted to ask.”
“He’s our principal,” Evan said.
Martha’s expression said the explanation hadn’t answered her question.
“They were just friends,” Angie said.
“She loved kids. I remember when she first came here. She said she’d always wanted to teach history.” Martha moved toward one of the living room chairs, picked up the cushion from the floor, placed it gently in the chair, and sat.
“Why didn’t she?”
“She did. But just a short time later—maybe a couple of months—she transferred to the drama department.”
“You don’t know why?”
After a brief hesitation Martha shook her head.
“Did you ever overhear, or did she ever mention, any problems with anyone?”
“Well, I normally wouldn’t say anything but…if it might help…I wasn’t eavesdropping, mind you. These old walls are thin.”
“I understand.”
“I did hear her arguing with somebody. About a week ago. Couldn’t understand their words—the walls aren’t
that
thin.” She smiled. “It went on a few minutes, then a door slammed. By the time I could get my door open, he was going down the stairs—”
“A man?”
Martha nodded. “There’s not much light in the hallway. All I saw was a dark color jacket. He wore a hat so I couldn’t see his hair.”
“What sort of hat?”
She thought a minute but shook her head. “Not a baseball cap. More like a toque.”
“Did you tell this to the cops?”
“Yes.”
Angie wondered if there were surveillance tapes. Most complexes had them these days. And surely the cops would’ve looked at them for the time period prior to Gwen’s murder. But how could she ask about a break-in last night? It would mean letting them know she’d been here. Of course, if there were cameras, and the cops had any reason to look at them
since
the murder, she and the kids would be on them.
She walked around Martha and bent to inspect the doorknob and lock. She was no authority in these matters but it certainly looked as though somebody had tampered with it. Which got them off the hook since Kiana had a key and wouldn’t need to break in.
Angie took out her business card and passed it into the gnarled fingers. “If you think of anything else…”
A smile spread across Martha’s face. “I was at your theater’s opening performance. Sad for someone to die like that in front of an audience. Thank goodness it didn’t close your theater before it got truly open.”
“Yes.” She steered Mrs. Benson toward the door. “It was very nice meeting you.”
After closing the door to the woman, Angie and Evan walked to the bedroom. It was in the same condition as the rest of the apartment. Clothing decorated every surface. All drawers were open, and empty, as was the closet.
They found Kiana seated on the bed, turning the pages of a photo album, though no way could she see through the blinding river of tears. Evan sat beside her and wound an arm around her waist. Kiana leaned against him.
On the floor were T-shirts, jeans, socks, sweatshirts, and a few dress clothes; two pairs of Converse sneakers, one pair of loafers, a pair of black heels; sports bras and cotton underwear. Angie opened her mouth to say they should get going.
Evan rose from the bed and picked something off the floor. A pair of cotton panties hung from his left index finger. Angie was about to chastise him for fooling around when he cleared his throat to get Kiana’s attention. She swiped tears from her eyes and nodded at the garment. “I knew it.”
“Knew what?” Angie asked.
Evan dropped the underwear on the floor. “The ones we found in Mr. Chalmers’ desk…they didn’t belong to Ms. Forest.”
“Come on, let’s go,” Angie said.
“That means he was cheating on her,” Kiana said softly.
“It doesn’t make sense,” Evan protested. “He asked her to marry him.”
Angie didn’t mention that people sometimes behaved in horrible, unexplainable ways.
What if Gwen found out he’d been cheating…one thing led to another and—
“Let’s get going.”
Evan started for the door. Kiana didn’t move. Angie eased the album from her hands and nudged her onto her feet. Kiana snatched the album away from Angie. “I want to keep it.”
Angie didn’t see any reason for her not to have it. Nobody else seemed to have turned up to claim anything. “Tuck it under your shirt.”
She did so. Then all the way downstairs and out to the car, walked with her arms around herself. No—nobody would guess she was hiding anything.
Angie wondered if Gwen did indeed have any family. She asked Kiana, who looked up from the intense stare she’d focused on the front of her jacket.
“Family? Um, no.”
Angie hit the remote to open the car doors. Evan held the passenger door for Kiana to slip inside. He climbed in the back. As Angie started the car, she noted the time, just before 10 a.m. She checked her cell phone and found that Jarvis had called several times. Hoping there was no further trouble she dialed him back.
Beside her, Kiana removed the album from her shirt and opened the cover, tears again gushing down her face.
Jarvis answered on the third ring. His barked, “Where the hell are you?” almost made Angie jam the phone back in her purse. Apparently Evan heard the sharp tone because he pushed forward in his seat to listen.
“In my car,” Angie said, catching Evan’s eye and raising her brows.
“That didn’t answer the question.”
“I’m here in Nashua. Where are you?”
“I’ve been looking all over for you.”
“I kind of figured that. Where are you?”
“At the school.”
When Angie asked, “What’s wrong?” Kiana looked up from the album. On the page was a 5x7 picture of two women, both about twenty. They stood in front of a white clapboard house. Along both sides of the paved walkway were pink flowers. Probably petunias. One of the women was Gwen. The other, also dark haired and about the same height, held a dark-haired girl of about a year old.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Jarvis said in answer to her question. “I thought we could spend some time together.”
Angie knew it was more than that but didn’t want to elaborate in front of the kids. “I’m on my way back to the hotel. Meet me there.”
“When?”
“A half hour.”
“Where
are
you?”
Angie held up crossed fingers that made Evan grin, and said into the phone, “Shopping.”
Jarvis’s “Figures,” said she was off the hook. About time her past addiction came in handy for something.
Angie hung up the phone then pointed to the album in Kiana’s lap. “Who’s that?”
“This one is Gwen, of course.” Kiana touched the face of the other woman. “This is her best friend from college. Her name is Deb Fingerman.”
“She’s pretty. Is that her baby?”
“She has two children now.” Kiana turned the page. Since the photo had been mounted on a page underneath a clear vinyl sheet, any possible writing was hidden.
At Farina’s Restaurant, Angie stopped the car next to Evan’s bike. She held the album while Kiana retrieved her backpack and handbag from the backseat. While she buttoned her coat all the way up, laughing about the chilly breeze on the bike, Angie thumbed through a few pages of the album. She recognized a group photo of the school drama club with Kiana crouching in the front row, right hand side. Another was of Gwen and Ted at some sort of formal affair. A third was taken at a church. A man of about twenty, with brown hair and a bushy mustache, held a dark haired newborn in a white dress. Deb Fingerman stood beside them. This must be the baby’s christening.
Evan stowed Kiana’s bags on the back of the bike then came to Angie. “Thanks for going with us. You saved us from that neighbor. She would’ve called the cops if you weren’t there.”
Angie handed Kiana the album, which she tucked inside her jacket. “We would’ve been in big trouble.”
“Kind of like Mrs. Deacon’s gonna be when Jarvis catches up to her.”
THIRTY-SIX
Evan’s prediction turned out wrong. Jarvis never mentioned a word about her shopping excursion though she knew he would once his mind was cleared of whatever errand they were headed out on. Which so far, he kept a secret.
Until he was ready to talk about it, Angie figured she’d better come clean about the morning’s events. While they walked out to the parking garage, she told him where she’d been and how Gwen’s place had been upside down when they arrived.
“I figured it was something like that,” he said. Then he laughed. “I knew you couldn’t
not
investigate.”
“Sorry to disappoint you Sherlock, it had nothing to do with me. The kids begged me to go, and I went because I knew they’d go regardless.”
His nod said he believed her. “Did you find out anything?” Jarvis asked.
“Nothing much. Kiana found a photo album. I let her keep it to remember Gwen by. Don’t look at me that way, if the cops, or the intruder, thought it meant anything, they would’ve taken it.”
“S’pose so.” Jarvis opened the passenger side door of the Lexus for her. “You want to stop someplace for lunch?”
“Depends. Will we be gone long?”
“Probably.”
“Then yes, let’s stop.”
Jarvis turned left, headed for Route 3 south. “I used to know a nice place over the state line in Chelmsford… I haven’t been there in a while. I hope it’s still there. Did it look like the intruder got what they were looking for at Gwen’s apartment?”
“When someone finds what they want they stop searching. Since the entire apartment was a shambles, it tells me they didn’t find what they wanted. Which makes me wonder if maybe they don’t know exactly what they’re looking for.”
“Oh, one of those
I’ll know it when I see it
kind of searches.”
“Possibly. Oh yes, we met Gwen’s neighbor from across the hall. An elderly woman.”
“She tell you anything newsworthy?”
“Not sure. When I asked if she knew anything about Gwen ending up teaching a drama class in a high school instead of history to grade-schoolers, she had a second’s hesitation.”
“You think she knows more than she’s saying?”
“I do.”
Angie leaned back in the seat. She was still determined not to work on this case, though it was becoming increasingly evident that people kept thrusting her into things—as Jarvis was doing now. In her defense, riding along while
he
investigated could not be considered
her
doing the investigating. Trouble was, the bits and pieces she gleaned every time somebody heaved her into the fray, were gelling in her mind. Were evolving into a mental investigation.
They crossed into Massachusetts. Nothing much to look at outside the window, especially this time of year when trees were bare and grass was turning brown. It seemed like this was the season everyone spent waiting for the onslaught of winter.
Jarvis laughed and she turned to look at him. “What?”
“I hear your hamster’s wheel turning.”
She refused to be baited into verbalizing her thoughts. She needed them to simmer a little longer without his input so all she said was, “You telling me where we’re going or will I just find out when we get there?”