Murder Is Private

Murder Is Private

(A Susan Wiles Schoolhouse Mystery)

Diane Weiner

Dedicated to teachers everywhere

Prologue

Susan’s blood pulsed against her neck like a jackhammer. A bear-like hand covered her mouth, squeezing her cheeks, thwarting her attempts to scream. Sweating in spite of the cold night air, she kicked the inside of the car door, over and over again.

“Stop! Please stop! I’m not going to hurt you,” said the attacker. His grip grew tighter as she continued to struggle.

She wriggled her shoulders, but couldn’t break free. Her throat choked with panic. Her wet bangs clung to her forehead.

“Stop!” The attacker hesitated. Susan fought harder. Then the words tripped out of his mouth. Words she’d never heard before. He took a deep breath, looked her in the eyes and said, “I’m your brother.”

Brother? Did he say brother? The words ricocheted in Susan’s head like a rogue tennis ball. She stopped kicking. The blood rushed away from her face. The attacker released his grip. With her pulse still racing, she said, “My brother? I don’t have a brother. What are you doing here? What do you want?” She stared into a pair of espresso-colored eyes.

“Our mother, Audrey, wants to cancel your visit, but she needs your help.”

Susan released her clenched fists and let her shoulders fall.
Our mother?
Audrey Roberts?
She sat up straight. The gut-wrenching panic began to wane.
“
You want my help, so you abducted me
?
You couldn’t just call or knock at the front door? What kind of a lunatic are you?”

“With that detective daughter of yours? I wasn’t born yesterday. A stranger claiming to be your brother, asking you to come to Florida to solve a mystery? She’d think I was a kook, just like you do, but
she’d
throw me in jail. I had to convince you in person.” Susan looked at his face; a chipped canine tooth accentuated his creepiness.
       

“So you’ve been stalking me?”

“Stalking, no. Researching, yes.”

“How do I know you’re really my brother?”

“Call Audrey. I have no reason to lie. Here’s my driver’s license.” He pulled it out of his wallet.

Susan took the Florida license and held it close up. In the darkness, she squinted to read the name. George Roberts. Same last name as her newly-discovered mother.

Chapter 1

The plane descended through a cotton-candy cloud. Susan saw nothing but blue sky, ocean, and green. Lots of green. Fort Lauderdale. Quite a change from her home in snow-covered Westbrook, New York. Finally, she was about to meet the birth mother who’d given her up sixty-two years ago. She tingled from anticipation like a child on Christmas morning. Her baby granddaughter, Annalise, stirred in the seat next to her.

“Lynette, why don’t you give her the bottle so her ears don’t start hurting?”

“I’m a step ahead of you, Mom.” Lynette had already pulled a bottle of juice from the diaper bag. Annalise mostly drank from a Sippy-cup these days, but for the sake of simplicity, Lynette had packed a bottle. With one arm in a cast, managing a toddler was challenge enough.

“I’m anxious to meet Audrey,” said Susan. What she didn’t say was how much her heart ached for the mother who’d raised her. People tell you grief lessens with time, but Susan felt the opposite. She’d trade just about anything to hear her mom’s voice, or see her lopsided smile one more time. “My curiosity is killing me, Lynette. What do you think Audrey mean when she told me not to come because it was too dangerous? What could be dangerous at a tony performing arts school in the heart of Banyan Beach, Florida? I think Donald Trump has a hotel there.”

“Who knows? You haven’t met Audrey yet. She could be an alarmist old lady, for all we know. Her idea of danger might be a stray cat stalking the school grounds at night.”

“But my . . . brother, George, came all the way to Westbrook to track me down. He’s taking this seriously.”

“A new-found brother, and a weird cookie at that from what you described,” added Lynette.

The flight attendant gave the command to buckle up and raise the seat backs. This flight was ending, and a new adventure was about to begin.

In the airport, Susan recognized her brother immediately, though she’d only met him once, when he’d pulled her into the backseat of Lynette’s car, scared her half to death, and then begged for her help. He’d done his research and knew Susan was not only a retired teacher, but also a sleuth extraordinaire. He’d read how Susan had helped solve several school-related murders along with the help of his niece––her daughter, Detective Lynette Green. Susan had to admit feeling a bit like a proud peacock when he’d told her that.

“George, this is my daughter, Lynette, and my granddaughter, Annalise.” Annalise squirmed in Susan’s arms. When George stroked her cheek, Annalise wailed and buried her head in Susan’s chest.

“Welcome to Florida,” he said, taking the diaper bag and car seat from Lynette. “Let me get that.” His tanned biceps bulged under his thin t-shirt. George looked to be a good twenty years Susan’s junior. He had the same wavy blond hair as she did, kissed two shades lighter by the abundant sun. He sported the same puppy dog nose as she and Lynette. Odd that she noticed a family resemblance when a week ago she didn’t even know her brother existed.

The ride to the school took them past strip malls, gated communities, and more restaurants per mile than she’d ever seen back in New York. Sunlight warmed her arm through the open car window and the wind brushing her face ushered the aroma of salt water through her nostrils.

“The school’s coming up on the left,” said George. Susan’s heart thumped in anticipation of meeting her birth mother. In her mind, she rehearsed for the hundredth time what she was going to say when they stood face to face for the first time.
Hello, Audrey. I’m your daughter, Susan––the one you gave away sixty-two years ago.
She imagined shaking her mother’s hand. She didn’t want to hug this complete stranger.
Her mental practice was aborted when two police cars, sirens screaming, flew past them.

“What’s going on?” asked Lynette. “Looks like they’re diverting traffic away from the school.” Annalise was now awake and crying.

“I don’t know,” said George. When he got closer to the detour, he rolled his window down and asked the uniformed officer what the fuss was about.

“The area is blocked off. It’s a crime scene; you need to follow the detour.”

“A crime scene? Here?” George gave Susan an
I told you
so
look.

George drove down the street, then turned into an alley. Susan’s stomach churned. Something felt wrong.

“I know a back way. Let’s try that or we’ll be here all day. I wonder what happened.” He tried calling his mother but it went straight to voice mail. “Mom never turns her phone off. I’m worried.” Susan heard the tightness in his voice, indicating his sincere concern for his mother.
At least Audrey has bonded with one of her children.

George parked the car near a green dumpster, ripe with flies and the fruity stench of rotting food. He motioned them to follow. Susan spotted an ambulance.
Did this have anything to do with the danger Audrey had mentioned on the phone?
Surely she wasn’t walking into a crime scene her first day in Florida. Or was she? A blond woman in an expensive pants suit ran up to them.
Is that my mother?
wondered Susan
.
Short of breath, the woman addressed George, ignoring Susan, Lynette, and the baby.

“George, I don’t get it. She’s dead. Celia Watkins, the chorus director. One of the students discovered her hidden behind the Banyan tree.” It was her mother––Audrey Roberts. The woman’s voice was resonant. Under different circumstance, Susan would characterize it as authoritative—commanding, in spite of a southern drawl.

“Mom, are you sure?” George put his hands on his mother’s shoulders. Susan drank in the image of the flesh and blood birth mother standing before. The mother she’d just found out about shortly after her adoptive Mom had died. She’d discovered the adoption papers days after the funeral, and had spent the past couple of years searching. This woman standing before her was tall, with wide hips and delicate skin. Her eyes were chestnut brown, like Lynette’s.

Susan’s mind snapped back to the present and she looked down at the body of a middle-aged woman, lying on a pillow of blood. George’s shortcut behind the school and Audrey’s position as principal had brought their car close to the crime scene. A pair of mangled, wire-rimmed glasses lay on the ground next to the body. A monogrammed leather briefcase spattered with red dots of blood, sat beside the glasses.

To Susan, this scene felt like a replay of Vicky Rogers’s death. Shortly after retiring, Susan had discovered her former boss dead, during intermission at the school holiday concert. Thus had begun her sleuthing hobby.
This can’t be happening again,
thought Susan, as they all exited the car.

“Susan, I’m so sorry about this,” said the woman. “I should have insisted
 
that you stay home! I was worried something like this might happen.” Audrey paced in circles, frown lines etched into her cheeks. Then she froze suddenly and looked at Susan, as if finally taking a moment to acknowledge her long lost daughter standing in front of her. Their eyes met, and Susan’s hands trembled as she reached out to shake Audrey’s hand.
Should she hug her instead, even though she’d previously decided not to? What would Miss Manners say?
Susan felt like crying, giggling, and screaming all at the same time.

“Susan, I can’t believe you’re standing here in front of me. I wish I wasn’t so distracted with this horrible murder after anticipating our reunion for so long. You are beautiful. And Lynette is too.” Susan spotted tears on Audrey’s cheek. Annalise reached for Susan, saying “Ga, Ga,” which was toddler speak for
Grandma.

“And you have a great granddaughter,” added Susan. She took the baby from Lynette. Audrey touched Annalise’s cheek, causing Annalise to cry and bury her head in Susan’s shirt––her typical response to strangers.

“It’s the age,” said Lynette. “Stranger anxiety they call it.” The business at hand brought them back to reality as a policeman approached.

“Are you the principal?” asked a uniformed officer.

“Principal Emeritus,” replied Audrey. “I’m in charge of the school if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Come with me, ma’am. The detective would like to speak with you.”

Audrey excused herself. Lynette looked at her mother and shook her head.

“Mom, it’s like you’re some sort of a murder magnet.” Annalise squirmed, trying to break free of Susan’s arms. “Maybe we should just get a cab to the hotel.”

“Lynette, we came all this way. I’m sure Audrey will be done soon.” Meanwhile, Susan again scanned the crime scene. The body was lying face down, with a gaping wound on the back of her head. In no universe could this have been an accidental death. A wooden sign hung from an ivy-covered walkway with an arrow that read
Arboretum
. Someone could have easily hidden amongst the greenery and surprised the victim from behind. Susan wondered if they’d searched for a murder weapon. Eventually, Audrey, finished giving her statement, walked back toward her.

“Susan, Lynette, let’s go into my office while the police do what they need to do.” She walked the women toward the building and inside. “I don’t know what to tell the staff or the students. This has probably gotten out on Twitter already. Poor Celia. Everyone loved her. I’m sure it must have been an attempted robbery. What was she doing out in the arboretum anyway? I have to call her family. I don’t know what to say to them.” Audrey’s staccato words spit from her mouth like bullets from a machine gun.

Susan remembered the leather brief case left at the scene.
If it was a robbery, wouldn’t the thief have taken it?

“Audrey, I think Mom and I’ll just go to the hotel. It looks like you have your hands full,” said Lynette. Audrey offered little protest as they entered her office door.

“I’m so sorry. I was looking forward to our reunion. I hate that it was spoiled. My head is buzzing right now.”

George burst into the office, sweat stains all over the front of his shirt. “They just removed the body. Coroner thinks she died sometime last night. They’re still processing the crime scene. They’re asking around, seeing if there were any witnesses.”

“And a murder weapon?” said Susan.

“Not yet. Let me drive you all to the hotel. You must be exhausted.”

“Go on. I’ll call you when things quiet down,” said Audrey. She gave both Lynette and Susan a hug goodbye. Annalise snuck a peek, then buried her head into Susan once again.