Are You Nuts? (9 page)

“We can tell them to cancel everything.”

“Until the baseball strike is over, and then I'll have to pitch. I want to pitch. If I wasn't gay, I wouldn't have any of this hassle. Is my life, are our lives always going to be like this? I want it to change.”

I remembered saying that to the first person I came out to when I was a teenager. I knew how he felt. “I think our only choice is to be who we are.”

“I know what I am and who I am. I'm just tired of wasting so much energy over who we are.”

“I understand.”

He stopped leaning against the window and put his arm around my waist. He said, “I love you so much. I couldn't get through this without you. I don't know what I'd do if I ever lost you.”

I squeezed his shoulder and wrapped my arm around him. “I'm not going anywhere.”

For the third time since he'd been home, we made passionate love.

 

Scott was quiet the next morning. He had nothing scheduled, but he got up and ate breakfast with me.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, I think so. I needed some sleep in my own bed with you nearby.”

“You had me a little worried.”

“We've both had more pressure about our private lives than anybody, except maybe the most prominent politicians. I never dreamed of anything like that happening. Last night was a bad moment. Finally being home and at ease let loose all those emotions that running around had kept at bay. Don't worry, I'm not turning into a self-hating gay person, like Trevor.”

For some reason, through all the regular early-morning activities I found myself brushing up against him, touching him, wanting to soothe and caress him. He noticed and smiled and took me back to bed for a lengthy and gentle session of pleasure.

I called Todd and checked the exact time of Meg's bail hearing. It would not be until late morning.

Scott decided to stop at his penthouse in the city before we met in court. I drove to the River's Edge police station for a prearranged meeting with Frank Murphy.

Frank's eternally rumpled suit looked rumpled, as rumpled suits are wont to look.

I sat across from his desk. He drank Thunder Bay Clear water.

“Can you tell me anything about what's happening with Meg's case?” I asked.

“You know about the fingerprints?”

“Right.”

“It's not my case, so I don't know much more than that. Word is the two of them didn't like each other.”

“That part I know.”

“I can't give you specific information. Mostly I don't have it, so we don't have to go through that song and dance about what I can tell you. I do know from the talk after everybody got back from the school yesterday that there are a lot of people who do not like a lot of other people in that school and in this town. The fights have been political and personal from races for mayor to infighting in organizations like the PTA. I wouldn't want to be working at the school. Sounds vicious and nasty.”

“You remember any names in these fights?”

“Not specifically, although Meg seems to have been in the thick of a lot of it.”

“She was always concerned about the community, and she loves to gossip.”

“Have you thought of the possibility that Meg might have done it?”

I didn't answer for a few moments, then nodded. Honesty with Frank was important.

“Not a pretty thought,” he said.

“Why would Meg kill him?”

“The police aren't working on motive here. They're sticking to hard evidence. Fingerprints on the murder weapon are not a good thing.”

“But they could have gotten there during the normal course of her working day. It was a book in the library and she is the librarian.”

“But there were no other prints on that encyclopedia.”

“There should have been from kids, other teachers, somebody.”

“No, this is more a librarian reference book. It's kept behind the desk. No one else has access to it.”

“The killer did.”

“Yeah. Let me tell you, Tom, the detectives on the case are convinced Meg is the killer. This wouldn't be the first time the disputes in a small community spilled over. River's Edge isn't that unique.”

“Any suggestions on who in the community I should start with?”

“A lot of the immediate problem seems to be connected to that school board election. I'm not saying you should investigate this. I do know that if I was looking for more information I'd talk to some of the candidates.”

The first person I ran into at school was Beatrix Xury. I wondered if she kept a periscope in her room so she could watch for me. Or a “Tom Mason Radar Detector.”

Her first words were, “Did you call about the air-conditioning?”

I said, “Beatrix, you've been here nearly thirty-five years. What do you know about the fights in the community?”

“Nothing.”

“Come on, Beatrix. You must know some of these people. I need some information.”

“Well, I don't think I know anything.” She trotted away. I wondered if bringing up the murder would be enough to drive her away every time. Only for the briefest moment did I think how convenient it would be for me if there was a murder every day. “A murder a day keeps Beatrix away”—as a saying it had a certain oblique charm.

I found Georgette in the office.

“How's Meg?” she asked.

“I should see her later this morning at the bail hearing. I hope she's okay.”

“I do too. She's so wonderful.”

“Aren't you going to miss Jerome?”

“We didn't talk much.” Georgette leaned closer. “He kind of abused the secretaries. He'd be mean to us for no reason. I know Mavis especially tried to be extra nice to him, but Jerome was real nasty anyway. It started with little things. Like he was always late turning in his paperwork.”

“Late grades?”

Georgette rolled her eyes. “Every single time. You know we hate to get teachers in trouble. Sometimes we cover for people, but he was just impossible. He turned nothing in on time. Forms for parking permits, forms for faculty admittance to extracurricular events, just everything. We wound up chasing around after him year after year. Most of that little stuff is due at the beginning of the year, and who has time then or ever to monitor somebody who should know better? When we would remind him about these items, he would be rude and surly. I can tell you this, Tom, but no one else. Jerome was not real popular in this office. Nobody's glad to see him die, but still …”

“At this time of the year, I'm surprised you've had time to help out with Meg.”

“No matter how crazy it gets, there are certain priorities. She's one of them.”

“Any more angry phone calls about me?”

“No, things have started to calm down already. Maybe the murder distracted your detractors. We're working on getting a crisis team in here in case faculty or students need help coping with Jerome's death.”

“Do you know who Jerome's friends were on the faculty?”

“A couple people in the math department.” She wrote down several names. “The head of the department is in today.”

I decided to start with him. Lester Piesman was in his classroom. Half of his walls were decorated. I had to get into my room sometime today to get more done. A calculator bulged from Lester's T-shirt pocket. He wore dark horn-rimmed glasses. His hair was thinning on the top, so he'd combed it over from the sides to try to fill in the gaps. He wasn't fat, but his stomach had started to protrude over his belt. His T-shirt had math equations stenciled on the front and back. It's good to be enthusiastic about what you do. When I entered, he was tacking a poster of Einstein to the front bulletin board.

His greeting was friendly but not effusive. He had a large fan blowing hard. I stood in the draft. The school was too warm already. I tried to picture the OSHA police hauling away custodians and administrators. This thought cheered me up.

Without preamble Lester said, “It is such a shame about Jerome. Is the union going to send flowers? I already arranged for it from among the department members.”

“I'll have to check.” Another thing to do.

He continued, “He was a good math and calculus teacher. He really knew his subject and he could get kids to really learn.”

I almost said, “Really,” but thought better of it. I said, “I'm trying to help out Meg. I know she didn't kill Jerome. I want to find out who did.”

“In this department, we got along okay. We had a few squabbles, although not as many as some. In the English department, before Jon Pike, you guys had squabbles. With Jon Pike, you have squabbles. It's not too different over here. Nobody was ready to kill over the differences.”

The academic departments in high schools fight about a variety of things: their budgets, who in the department got how much money to spend on supplies, or who got to teach which classes—the bright kids, the slow kids, or the specialized, most desirable electives. This last was important. If you had nasty teachers with a rotten reputation teaching the electives, fewer students would sign up for them. The enrollment in your department goes down and teachers lose jobs.

“He ever have fights with anyone in the department?”

Lester thought a minute. “No, not really. We aren't perfect, but we got along okay.”

“Did he talk much about running for union president or his campaign?”

“I never did follow that very well. What he told us was that he was afraid this Seth person would get in and ruin everything.”

“Like what?”

“You know. Those elementary teachers keep trying to transfer over here. We can't let that kind of thing happen. We could get people in here who aren't qualified to teach higher levels of math. This isn't simple arithmetic.”

Seth had mentioned this earlier. Purists in the high school departments wanted only people who had majored in their field to be hired. Elementary teachers tended to have general ed certificates with a minor in or barely enough hours to qualify for teaching in a specialty. This horrified the superspecialized high school teachers who might have fifty or more hours in their major. The superior attitude of the secondary teachers infuriated their elementary colleagues.

“Jerome promised us he'd make sure none of those underqualified elementary teachers would make it into our department. He had some pretty strong support here.”

“Did he ever remind you the union has no control over hiring and firing?”

“I guess I knew that, but he seemed so positive.”

“How could you believe him? He was so totally wrong.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Why would he say it if it wasn't true?”

“He was a lying sack of shit and desperate to be elected.”

“Oh.”

“He ever make comments about a social agenda?”

“Not to me. He never seemed to care about that kind of thing. He just didn't want the elementary teachers taking over. I don't think he had a lot to criticize about what Kurt's done. I think Kurt's done a great job.”

“Do you know if Jerome was involved much in the politics in the community?”

“He never talked about that kind of thing to me. As far as his dealings with the community, everybody has the usual hassles with parents over the years. He had a few more complaints about grades than most since he was such a tough grader. But you've got to have standards or what's the point of grades? His standards were high and I had no quarrel with them.”

“He get a lot of complaints?”

“Not really. One or two a year at most.”

“No arguments of any kind with coworkers?”

“At lunch it was kind of odd. If he was around, we didn't discuss certain topics.”

“Like what?”

“Religion. He's in one of those very strict religions—no cigarettes, no alcohol, no going out to movies. We'd be kind of careful around him. Nobody swore or anything if he was nearby, but he never tried to convert anybody. He left us pretty much alone. I think he did have some fights in the community about his religion. Maybe I heard something about that.” Lester thought a moment or two. “Nothing comes to me.”

“Did you know his family?”

“I met his wife a few times. She seemed very nice. She was in early this morning to clean out his desk. She was pretty broken up. I helped her with his stuff. She only took a few pictures and a couple of other personal items.”

“He have any close friends here at school?”

“Try Deliphinia Schuster. I think she's in.”

 

Deliphinia was in her classroom. All of her bulletin boards were decorated. There were charts on one wall about class rules. More charts listed goals and expectations for each unit. One to be taught each month. Two per quarter. Another huge chart listed dates for the quizzes and final tests to be given on each unit. When I walked in, she was staring out the windows at the stunted trees that surrounded part of the parking lot.

When I entered, she smiled at me. I'd helped her untangle a parent complaint several years ago. She'd been accused of clipping her toenails in class. For one of the few times in her tenure as principal, Edwina had stuck up for her teacher right down the line. Delphinia said it was absurd and it never happened. To my amazement, Edwina had believed her, not argued, and all but told the parent where to stick it.

Deliphinia plucked a tissue from a box and dabbed at her eyes. “It's sad about Jerome,” she said.

“You were good friends?”

“Yes. We knew each other at the University of Southern California. I'm from the northern suburbs. When there were no jobs up there, he told me about the opening here. He went out of his way to be nice. I know his wife, Dana. We went to a movie the night of the meeting. She is such a nice, gentle woman. She is totally broken up over this.”

“Did you talk to Jerome before the PTA meeting?”

“No. We talked the day before. He didn't really want to go, but he felt like he had to. He wanted to show up Seth.” She shook her head. “I told him no one would care, but he didn't listen to me.”

“Do you know if he had planned to meet with anybody specific while he was there?”

“No. Why do you ask?”

“I don't think Meg is guilty.”

“I only know her a little. She always seemed like a nice person. I can't imagine anyone wanting to hurt Jerome.”

“Did he seem like he was anxious or worried about anything lately?”

“No, he was looking forward to school starting.”

“Did he have any enemies?”

“No … well, he disliked Seth, but I'm not sure they ever met. It was just an election thing.”

“Did he have any arguments or fights lately?”

“He and I discussed all kinds of things. When we disagreed with each other, we said so, but those aren't arguments. During the school year, he and I ate lunch together every day. In the summer we talked on the phone at least once a week. Sure, you have to make allowances for friends, but he was a good person. I'd know if there were fights.”

“What about in the community? I heard he wasn't happy with the school board election.”

“I know you've been a union official for a long time and you were very helpful, but he wanted to change some things. I think change is good once in a while. With Kurt retiring, he thought this was his chance.”

“Did he get along with Belutha Muffin and Lydia Marquez?”

“He talked about them once in a while. Weren't they in the same church? He never said mean things about them. Jerome was never mean.”

Her tissue caught another tear. She looked around her classroom at her charts and dates and deadlines. “You can be incredibly organized and terribly efficient,” she said, “but it doesn't stop a tragedy from happening.”

“Being a slob doesn't stop it either.”

“No, I guess it doesn't.” She blew her nose and almost smiled.

I left. I needed to get moving to make it to the courthouse in Markham where Meg would have her hearing.

 

When I arrived, Scott and Todd were talking outside the courtroom. All three of us were dressed in dark suits and somber ties. Todd's was flat black. Hard to outdo Todd when it came to depressing clothes.

Todd went over the procedure again, then said, “I think Meg may have enough for the bail. Her house is paid for, and that's what she'll probably use as collateral.”

“If she needs anything, we're ready to help.”

Todd nodded. “I'll go through everything with her and then I'll talk to her awhile. We'll meet you downstairs later.”

When her case was called, Meg was brought in. She hung her head and never looked left or right. The hearing itself took only a few minutes. Meg was given bail of a quarter of a million dollars. A half hour of paperwork later, we finally met in the main hall of the building.

I rushed up to give her a hug. Instead of putting her arms around me, she pulled away.

“What's wrong, Meg?”

“I've been accused of murder.”

“I want to talk to you about that. I've been talking to a lot of people.”

“Don't.”

“Pardon?”

“I don't want you to do anything.”

“What's wrong? Did something happen in jail?”

I looked at Todd. He shrugged.

“If you mean was I mistreated, no. Nothing happened. I don't want help, at least not from you.”

I was totally confused and hurt.

“I've begun to unearth some important stuff, I think. If you could tell me a few—”

“I'm not going to be able to tell you anything. I want to go home. Please leave me alone.”

No one else was there to drive her.

“Scott and I can take you.”

“No.”

Todd volunteered and she accepted.

I looked from one to the other. Meg had not met my gaze the whole time. She looked completely worn-out and very depressed. She walked on a little way past us. I touched Todd's arm. He held back a moment.

“What's going on?” I asked.

“You know as much as I do. I told you. People get down. You can't help her if she doesn't want to be helped. Leave her alone for a little while. You've been good friends for a long time. Give her some space. This has been the most humiliating and most embarrassing moment of her life. At least I hope it has. She needs time to assimilate all this. She's going to have to have some fighting spirit. In time that will happen. You need to be there then.”