Usually Angie found it calming. Not today. The weight of her words to the girl hung like a solid mass.
“I do understand,” Kiana said, apparently having the same thoughts. “It’s just that…”
“I know exactly where you’re coming from. I just don’t want you expecting things that cannot happen.” Change the subject. “So, tell me about the play. The title’s
Adrift
, right?”
“It seemed an appropriate title for my character.” Kiana slid into a seat in the next to last row. Angie sat across the aisle. “I tried to embody as many aspects of a teen’s life as I could. The story opens with geeky Jennifer having an argument with her football player boyfriend. He’s not the star of the team but he wants to be. Always seems to be second, know what I mean? Jennifer tried out a dozen times for the cheerleading squad but they wouldn’t have her. Anyway, Jennifer gets pregnant. I know, I know, it’s ordinary, but too many teens get pregnant. I felt the audience could relate. Next, the boyfriend is arrested for possession of drugs. Long story short, Jennifer bends under the pressure and leaves town—to live with a relative till the baby’s born. She ends up losing the baby but doesn’t come back to town. By that time, she can’t face the opinionated people who she feels chased her away.”
In the dim light, Angie saw Kiana sigh. “I guess I made it sound sad and sort of morbid, but it’s basically an upbeat story because everyone finds happiness in the end. We have a great musical score.” Without missing a beat, Kiana said, “Is your theater like this?”
“We have more seating and red curtains instead of emerald, but otherwise it’s the same,” Angie whispered back.
“Could I see your place sometime?”
“Of course.”
The uneasiness waned. Angie followed the girl down the aisle, then up the stairs onto the stage’s apron. Kiana led the way into the wings but Angie moved to the right instead. She stepped under the proscenium arch and onto the stage. Suddenly the stage lights came on. And the auditorium filled with people, most all wearing police uniforms. A woman midway along one aisle waved a plastic banner of crime scene tape. Someone up back shouted, “I’ve found a clue! It’s Evan, it’s Evan!” A tall man in the front row held up a giant magnifying glass that reflected light back into her face, making her flinch. The man stood up. He took off a gargantuan deerstalker hat and pushed his fingers through thinning hair. When he lowered his hand, Jarvis’s face grinned up at her. Angie whirled around and moved briskly off the stage.
Kiana waited in the wings. “Is something wrong?”
Angie threw a peek over her shoulder. The stage lights were out, the house quiet. “No.” Angie chose to believe the ghostly apparitions had appeared as reassurance that they were on the job solving Gwen Forest’s death. To let Angie know she could relax and work on this production without reservation or interruption. “Actually, everything is quite well.”
Angie followed Kiana down a short hallway and around the back of the stage. She dropped her briefcase on a long table in the green room, the place where actors gathered to await their entrance. In smaller venues, like this and Prince & Pauper, it was also used as a meeting place for cast and crew. It was where they celebrated successes and lamented bad performances.
The place was a mess. Obviously the cops had been here already. Kiana groaned but went along anyway. She gave Angie the grand tour, stepping over the mess, and occasionally picking up something to put away. She described each character and the personality of the student they’d selected to play him or her. By the time the final bell of the day rang, Angie felt like the proverbial fifth wheel. No way was she needed here. No way in the world.
“Of course you are,” yelled a female voice from out in the auditorium. “You’re needed to solve the murder.”
No more detecting.
After last month’s vacation where she was nearly thrown in jail, suspected of murdering her neighbor,
and
after she and Jarvis were almost killed—Angie swore off crime solving. The professionals could deal with the aggravation and the danger.
“Are you all right?” asked Kiana.
“I think a better question would be, how are
you
? Are you up to this today?”
Kiana said, “I’m fine,” but Angie knew this had to be extremely hard for the girl. Randy said she and Gwen had been close. To the left, a door squeaked open. As footsteps and rustling clothing and teenage voices came in Angie gave Kiana’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
The somber faced cast gathered around the long table in the green room, dumping backpacks and stacks of books in a multi-colored heap on top of Angie’s briefcase. They left the seat at the head of the table open and stood waiting, their questioning gazes flicking back and forth between Kiana and Angie and the mess in the room.
Kiana stepped up to the open space and remained standing behind the hardback chair. A sandy haired boy with bright green eyes moved up beside her. Tall and wiry, he seemed more suited to a basketball team. He wore his hair a bit on the long side and seemed quite at home in chinos and sport shirt rather than the accepted attire of jeans and tees. The group’s attention focused on he and Kiana, who pulled in a breath and made a joke about cops being slobs. She went on to murmur a teary-eyed eulogy for their leader, then gave the floor to the sandy haired teen so he could do the same. By now the entire cast and crew, including a half-dozen boys, were in tears. Kiana introduced Angie, who likewise expressed her sorrow over the great loss of Gwen Forest. Angie suggested they postpone rehearsal till the following day but the group unanimously opted to remain. For Ms. Forest.
Everyone shuffled off to clean up the mess left by the cops, and to prepare for rehearsal amid great discussion as to who might’ve killed their teacher. Kiana’s attention followed them. As the others rounded the corner out of sight, she dragged herself back to the moment and introduced her wiry sidekick as one of her writing partners: Evan Harris. He stretched a hand to Angie. The skin was soft, uncalloused—definitely not that of a basketball player. This was the person Randy suspected of murder? Not that someone as down to earth as this boy
couldn’t
do such a thing. Hadn’t she said the same to Randy a short time ago? But this man-child certainly didn’t give off that sort of vibe.
“Nice t’meetcha,” he said in a soft voice.
“The idea for Adrift’s plot was all Evan’s,” Kiana said proudly.
“No it wasn’t. You said you wanted to do something that embodied the ups and downs of a teen’s life in high school.” He faced Angie. “We came up with it together.”
“Kiana has outlined the story for me. I look forward to seeing it performed.” Angie gestured with one arm. “Shall we get to work?”
Angie fell naturally into the job of directing the show. If she were to be honest, the kids were easier than dealing with the prima donna at P&P. On top of that, the play was a winner, alternating between tears and hold-your-belly laughter.
Rehearsal wound down. Everyone gathered in the now-neat green room. Angie stood near the middle of the table. The spot at the head remained open. “I have to say, I’m very impressed, not only with the quality of your play,” Angie nodded at Kiana and Evan, standing side by side in the doorway, “but your professionalism. Ms. Forest would’ve been very proud.”
Again all eyes welled up with tears. Angie envied that Gwen had been so well liked. She hoped the kids had similar feelings toward her when they were through. “This was my first introduction to your play. You’ve all done a fabulous job and I look forward to working with you. Together we’ll make this production all you’ve dreamed.” The group broke into spontaneous applause. “See you all tomorrow.”
Randy expected her in his office to recap her first day. Well, that’s what he’d said earlier but she knew that, in spite of his words, he still expected her to be gathering clues. The ‘recap’ would consist of discussing the clues. Best to avoid it.
FIVE
Angie’s heels clicked down the empty corridor and onto the tar sidewalk. Carlson South High School was three stories of glass and cinder block. The landscaping was mature. The grass could use mowing. Only one other vehicle, a red pickup, remained in the lot on this side of the building.
Angie set her purse and briefcase on the passenger seat. She shut the door and moved around the front of the car when a bulky looking man in a bright blue sweatsuit stepped in the way. He had dark hair and thick black-rimmed glasses. He smiled. It was a friendly, hello-type smile. Even so, her first thought was to run, or scream, or push that silly red panic button on the car’s remote control. But a sadness tinged his demeanor, a level of uncertainty that didn’t send
I’m dangerous
vibes. The sweatsuit had no visible pockets—Colonel Mustard probably wasn’t concealing a Glock or a lead pipe in the school parking lot. Both his hands were in sight. One shot toward her and she jumped back.
“Ooh,” he said in a voice that didn’t match his unassuming appearance. The voice was deep and silky, like melted chocolate. Like one you’d hear on those late night radio shows her mother listened to after her father moved out. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Ted Chalmers, the gym teacher.”
The one Gwen was dating, or marrying, if you believed the rumor. Even so, Angie poised her left finger on the remote control’s red button as she shook hands with her right hand—after all he just might be a murderer. Angie wouldn’t let those thoughts intrude on a very nice day.
“Angie Deacon. I’m filling in for Gwen Forest.”
“Yes.”
Of course he knew. Everybody did. All day long, she’d been pointed at as the one who took over for Ms. Forest.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” was all she could think of saying. How many times as an ER nurse, had she said that? She had the sinking feeling that by the end of the week she might be wishing she worked back at the hospital.
Ted blinked several times. His lips compressed as he held in the emotion. Again Angie felt a sense of loss, regret that she hadn’t known this woman whom everyone loved. Well, not everybody. Someone disliked Gwen Forest enough to commit murder.
Suddenly Angie realized their meeting wasn’t coincidence. Ted Chalmers deliberately sought her out. What could the gym teacher want from the substitute drama teacher? Whatever it was, Angie expected it wouldn’t take long to find out.
But it did. Silent seconds stretched into a minute.
Angie decided to help his hesitation along. “Well, it was nice to meet you. I’m truly sorry for your loss. Perhaps I’ll see you around the school.” She edged left, stepping toward the car.
The gym teacher’s hand shot out and touched her sleeve. Her finger made contact again, with the red button.
“Could I maybe buy you a cup of coffee?”
Angie had been craving a cup all afternoon. And if she were going to talk to this oddly silent stranger, it was best to do so in a public place. So she agreed to meet him at McDonalds—a place with bright lighting and bustling with people.
* * * *
They met on the sidewalk in front of the building and walked in together. Ted ordered two coffees and settled into a booth at the back, near the bathrooms. Angie waited for him to voice his thoughts. Unfortunately another wait seemed in order. At least she had coffee; freshly brewed Newman’s Own made waiting easier.
He busied himself working the cream and sugar into the steaming liquid, then spent time boring a hole in the table with an increasingly tattered napkin. Angie passed time watching a girl in tattered jeans and a black tank top duck into the ladies room, chattering on a cell phone. A mother rattled a stroller in through the glass doors. At a nearby table, two men in utility company uniforms discussed a woman one of them had met at a club.
Finally Ted spoke. “Gwen and I were…seeing each other.”
She nodded.
“Oh yes, Randy would’ve told you.”
He bowed his head into his cupped hands on the table. She knew the power of the emotions swirling inside him. There was nothing she could say to make things better. Only time could do that.
His hands dropped to the table with a thunk. His eyes were bloodshot. “I was glad when Randy told me you were looking into this because—”
Not again. “Ted…”
“I have no doubt that when I get home tonight, the police will be waiting on my doorstep. Frankly, I’m surprised they weren’t all over the school like locusts today.”
“Why would authorities focus on you?” she asked, not mentioning that they’d been in the auditorium area.
“Isn’t the spouse, or the significant other, always the main suspect?”
“I suppose so, but still, you shouldn’t worry so much about something that hasn’t happened. Besides, it’ll only mean you’re the prime focus. If they don’t find any reason to look at you, then they won’t.”
“Tomorrow my face will be splashed all over the news. I’ll lose my job, my career, my life. Gwen and I… We—” Again he covered his face with cupped hands.
“Look Ted, I’m really sorry about all this. But I have to tell you, Randy misled you. He misled us both. I’m not here to solve Gwen’s murder. I was asked to make sure the production goes off smoothly. To save the drama program. I am not a detective.”
Ted looked up. His whole face was red. The color subsided a bit as he took several deeps breaths and a sip of the coffee. “Gwen and I went to a movie last night.”
Okay, so the man needed to talk. To get things off his chest. Angie drank more coffee.
“We walked back to her place. I left about—”
“You don’t live together?” she asked.
“No, Gwen’s very…proper. She likes—liked—her space. We saw the movie then stopped for an ice cream in the park. I walked her to the front door. Didn’t go inside. It was around eleven.” His voice broke on the last words.
Wait just a minute, hadn’t Randy said he had dinner with her? So, he wasn’t the last to see her alive.
“If only I’d insisted on going up.”
“If you had, you might’ve been killed too.”
He shook his head. “My being there would’ve scared him off.”