Relative Danger (19 page)

“Good.” He began rinsing his truck.

Kat’s kitchen smelled of food, this time baked biscuits. “I knew you’d be hungry,” she said when I entered, “so I went out for biscuit mix and whipped up a batch.”

“You already went shopping?” I snatched a couple of warm flaky biscuits from the oven and munched, shaking my head. “Kat, you’re really something.” And she was. Always, she had been the little homemaker. And a quality student. “You look nice,” I said.

She’d tucked her reddish-brown waves behind her ears. Her blouse of stretchy material, khaki slacks, and backless sandals made her look stylish. “Thanks. You too.” I wore a pistachio colored pant set I’d picked up in Dallas.

Kat liked the Mustang. I offered to let her drive, but she declined. She seemed carefree with the wind whipping her hair across her face, her smile almost as happy as mine.

She didn’t offer suggestions for which stores we should enter at the mall. I saw Le Boutique and thought the name interesting. “This is pricey. I’ve never been here,” she whispered while we meandered between the shop’s racks holding few garments.

The only other people were three female employees, all wearing black tops, skirts, nylons, and heels, reminding me of someone I chose not to consider. They raised their chins and gave us snooty expressions that asked, “Are you wealthy enough to shop here?”

“Yes, I am,” I said to the pencil-thin one nearing us.

“You are what?” she asked.

“I am looking for something extra special.”

“Oh!” She did know how to smile.

“I need part of a graduation gift,” I said. I turned to Kat. “Choose some things, as many as you like.” Her gaze skimmed the floor, and I urged, “Please do it.”

The skinny saleslady clutched Kat’s elbow. “Aren’t these beautiful?” the eager woman said, guiding Kat toward separates that all looked the same, except in different pastel colors.

I headed for a section called Delicate Undies. The woman with wedge-cut hair swooped down on me. Was their commission as much as a car salesman’s? “If I find something, you can ring me up,” I said, discovering she could smile, too.

Bras in Easter colors dripped from hangers. They didn’t have my actual size, with a long cup and space for sag near the armpit, so I grabbed one with the next-best dimension in yellow. Slim slips guaranteed to enhance a woman’s entire figure enticed me, but I no longer wanted anything like a girdle. Whatever my figure became at each stage of my life would be fine. My body parts could all expand and droop as they wanted. I did decide to let my cleavage poke out with the little black lace thing I plucked up. I snatched matching panties and six pairs of nylons without control tops in various shades, but mostly sheer black. Was I thinking of Legs again here? I told myself no, this was only for me, whenever I wanted to feel sexy.

Kat’s saleslady had her facing cashmere jackets. “Pretty,” I told Kat. “Why don’t you try one on?”

She tucked her chin. “No thanks. I have a nice jacket.” She and her sales rep held no garments. “I don’t see anything I want,” Kat told me.

“Are you sure?” I indicated leather skirts. “You’d look great in one of those. And you could get some of those pretty silk blouses to wear with it.”

“They’re called shirts now,” the sales rep said, her nose higher.

“What, they don’t make blouses anymore?” I considered a moment and said, “How about housecoats?”

She gave me a pained expression.

I wanted to buy Kat a suit, but she refused. “I guess that’s all,” I told the disappointed young woman at her side. I made my purchases and we left. I scanned other shops that might entice Kat, but she lowered her eyes and shook her head. My rear neck muscles tensed. Kat didn’t want to shop for clothes. A horrible sign.

“Macy’s,” I said, seeing that name on a store. Kat had always enthused about items she bought there with Nancy, and over the years, mentioned outfits she wished she could buy. I’d wanted to send her the money or get her a credit card but her parents had said no.

Inside the store, I grabbed a low-cut scarlet dress off a rack and held it up in front of Kat. “This is you.” At least she grinned as she pushed it away. I directed her to sportswear, tailored garments, swimsuits. Kat shook her head. “Oh, bedding,” I said, and her step quickened beside mine.

“Pretty,” she agreed when I pointed out sheets and comforters. I suggested she choose some things, but Kat said she didn’t need any. We neared a bed made up with muted green sheets sprinkled with burgundy leaves. Its matching coverlet was turned back. I kicked off my shoes and stretched across one side. “Come here,” I said, patting the pillow beside mine. Kat’s eyes widened in horror. “It’s okay,” I said gently.

A saleslady appeared and asked if I needed help. “I’m checking out the mattresses and bedroom sets. And I’ll let you, and only you, know if I find what I want,” I added, making her smile expand.

“Come on, baby girl,” I told Kat after the woman left. “People do lie on mattresses to check them out, you know.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You want a mattress, Gram? But you seldom even stay in one place.”

I raised my hand. “I can get anything I want, remember?” Kat smiled and nodded, and I said, “Climb in.”

She glanced around, probably to search for anyone she knew from school. She was concerned about appearances, and I couldn’t totally change that. But I could try a few alterations. Kat dropped her hips gently to the sheet, and I asked, “How’s this one feel?”

“Nice.”

I patted her pillow. “Now try this. I’m not sure whether I like these fluffy ones.”

Kat looked aghast, but I nodded and she laid her head back, leaving her legs over the side of the bed. I wanted to suggest that she kick off her shoes and relax, but she was Kat. “Soft,” she said, head sinking into the pillow.

When Kat appeared totally relaxed, I said, “Tell me about Mrs. Peekers.” She responded with a big sigh, and I said, “Is she a mean teacher?”

“I don’t think so. She’s tall. Some people think she and Miss Hernandez could be sisters.” There was love in the way she said Hernandez’s name. I thought I also heard bitterness.

I laid my hand over Kat’s. “What would make anyone think your friend—” Kat’s eye flicker made me pause, but I needed to ask it— “Why would they think Miss Hernandez could kill?”

Kat sat up. She faced away from me. I shoved up to sit and noticed shoppers staring at us. I gave them big waves, and they turned their gazes aside. Kat had started to walk off when the saleslady came. “I don’t care for this one,” I said, indicating the bed we’d been on. The lady’s falling expression almost made me tell her I’d take the entire package. I glanced at the exquisite bedding. I could have the whole ensemble shipped to the apartment I kept, I considered, jaunting after Kat. Nope, I already had new mattresses and sheets there.

Kat didn’t speak when we left the store. Eventually she slowed her pace. I led her to the food court, tempting with the scent of fried chicken. We stopped at a Greek counter instead and then sat picking at meat wrapped in grape leaves. Families ate around us, their voices and presence making our silent meal more solemn. I asked Kat how her food was, and she raised her shoulders with indifference. The entrée was bland, not at all like Cajun cooking. My thoughts flitted to Gil and left him. A carousel’s music attracted me. I eyed sparkling diamond shapes circling, along with little kids on rising and falling animals. “Let’s ride,” I told Kat.

“Not today.”

I stood in line, straddled a stiff tan rabbit, and waved to Kat each time the merry-go-round circled. She regained a half smile.

Afterward we strolled through the central corridor, Kat’s smile fading. This problem with her beloved teacher was making her almost as sullen as she had been during the end with Nancy.

Motion at a store’s entrance sought my eye. A stuffed ferret on a table tumbled over a ball. Amused, I moved Kat closer to watch. A toy dog strutted, barely missing the ferret. A monkey opened its mouth and sang the Macarena.

“Let’s go in,” I told Kat, needing to soften her mood and ask more questions.

“A toy store?” she asked.

“Why not? We can play.”

Chapter 15

“Look at this,” I said, entering the store and grabbing a Hula-Hoop. I thrust it over my head and tried to lasso Kat with another one, but she backed off. My hoop swiveled around my hips. “I’d forgotten this was great exercise.”

Kat looked away from customers who watched, suggesting she was highly embarrassed. I kept my hoop going a while and then it struck my knees. “Very good,” Kat said.

“Thank you very much.” I lunged for the next thing that enticed me.

Kat snickered. “You remember how?”

“Just like riding a bike.” I whipped the jump rope out of its container and clasped the wooden handles. “Such great memories.” I flung the rope around and tried to jump, but the rope caught toys on a shelf. Dinosaurs tumbled to the floor, and something shattered. Kat’s hands covered her mouth. “Of course,” I said, “I never did learn to ride a bike.”

A grim-faced man stomped to us, eyeing the scattered items.

“Sorry,” I said. “I’ll pay for them.” I replaced the jump rope, and Kat and I scooped up the remains of a piggy bank. “I’ll take care of it on our way out,” I told the clerk, and then I led Kat toward the store’s rear. Unseen by others, she giggled. A woman with bluish hair appeared and stared at her. My granddaughter and I smirked at each other and shuffled around corner shelves. We became like two bad girls, ready to pull something off.

“This used to be so much fun,” Kat said, drawing a box down from a counter.

“Oh, an Easy-Bake Oven. Would you like one?”

She frowned. “I have enough with my real stove.”

“Take this one just so you can play again. I’ll play with you.”

She slipped the carton back into place. “That’s okay.”

Getting Kat to lighten up was proving most difficult. I glanced at her serious face. Engaging Kat in play might distract her so that I could discover more. How could I get her to tell me what she knew about people who might be involved in a killing? Or anyone who might want to harm me? Surely no one would try to hurt her. Would they?

I shivered. Nobody from Sidmore High had given straight answers to all I wanted to know. And Kat balked every time I asked outright about motives of people connected with the school. Should I push her to return—or make certain she wouldn’t?

We needed to play.

I guided her to another aisle empty of people. Kat opened a book that played a tinny version of “Mary Had a Little Lamb,” and I pulled up all the ladders on a fire truck and made its little driver climb them. We touched fluffy stuffed animals and I offered to get some for Kat’s bed, but she declined.

“Now that’s great fun,” I said, spotting familiar boxes. Kat agreed. I opened a box, spread the Twister mat on the floor and spun the arrow. “Right hand, green,” I read. I placed my hand on a green circle. “Now your turn.”

Kat shoved the arrow. “Left foot, yellow.” Finding no spectators, she slid off her shoe and stepped on that color.

I spun right foot, blue. Kat took her turn, and we worked at getting ourselves into bent positions while not losing our footing. Once Kat was involved in the game, I said, “Yesterday medics took Mrs. Peekers away from school.”

Her face shot up toward mine. “What?”

“It was an accident. Probably.” I explained what I knew. From my twisted position, I raised a hand, pointed toward where her left foot should be, and almost fell over. Kat automatically shifted her foot. “Baby girl,” I said, “I like Miss Hernandez.”

Kat’s expression warmed. She almost smiled.

“Your turn,” I said, getting her attention back on moving her body. While she made the next move, I asked, “What connection did she have to Grant Labruzzo?”

Kat exhaled. “Miss Hernandez was at school late on the day he died.”

“I’ve noticed that many people stay around after the bell rings. Although I can’t imagine why anyone would want to do that.”

Kat didn’t grin as I’d hoped. I took one turn after another, striving to keep her distracted.

“All of the practices were over that afternoon,” Kat said, “and there weren’t any games the evening he fell.”

I didn’t want to move lest I jolt the scene playing in her head. I tightened my shoulders to make my arms quit wobbling.

Kat said, “Mr. Labruzzo yelled at her that day.”

“The custodian yelled at a teacher? Why?”

Kat stared off. Wanting to keep her with me, I stretched to spin and wound up bent like an aging pretzel. Kat spoke in a quiet tone. “Some kids in Miss Hernandez’s class said she asked him if he’d hang some things from her ceiling. With a long ladder, he could reach.” Her unfocused eyes slid to Sidmore High. “Before homeroom that day she’d told me she had an idea for displaying her students’ work. Their projects would make the room colorful, and if the students who needed incentive saw their accomplishments, they might work harder.” Kat took a breath. “That’s the last time she really spoke with me.”

“Do you know why Grant Labruzzo yelled at her?”

“She had stopped him when he was passing her room and glancing in it. And after she asked him to hang the pictures, he hollered that teachers needed to start doing their own jobs, cleaning their boards and desks, and taking care of stuff written on their walls.”

I shook my head. “So why would people think she killed him? Just because he yelled?”

“Miss Hernandez never got mad at anyone. And she was there late that day, doing things in her room.” Kat spoke lower. “She seldom stayed after school hours. It’s one of the things they’ve questioned.”

“They?”

Kat’s gaze flickered. “The police. Some kids in her class said she’d looked so humiliated when Mr. Labruzzo yelled at her in front of them. Her face turned kind of purple.” Kat stared off. She didn’t want to talk but needed to. “He just walked away, and Miss Hernandez raised her arms and made fists. She slammed them down, like she’d like to slam him, the kids said.”

“And then what?”

The portion of Kat’s face that I saw went blank. “And then the bell rang. She stormed out of her room before the last students left.”