2 Death Makes the Cut, page 17
“So,” he said at last, “the bottom line is that this coach…”
“Coach Fred,” I supplied.
“… that this Coach Fred had an argument with a violent parent, that he also had some kind of connection with drugs or with someone who had access to drugs, and that he knew a secret that he planned to share with you and that he kept locked up somewhere. And someone killed him for one of those reasons.”
I frowned. “It doesn’t sound right when you say it like that. You don’t understand what he was like.”
“It doesn’t matter what he was like. You have to concentrate on the facts,” said Alan.
But it did matter. It mattered who Coach Fred had been, how he’d spent his life, what he’d accomplished. Colin and now Alan seemed to think that Coach Fred had done something very wrong, which had somehow led to his death. I did not agree. I frowned at Alan.
He went on without noticing. “What if he’d gotten in too deep with these drug dealers and he was going to leave you their names as insurance? Or maybe not their names—just the key so that you could find their names if something happened to him. That would explain what it was that he had locked up. Only they killed him before he could get it to you.”
“No!” I protested. “What the hell? This wasn’t a hit. Fred worked with kids, not the Corleone family. And it’s not like it was bags of cocaine—it was a few ounces of marijuana. Willie Nelson keeps more than that in his sock drawer.”
Affronted, he held up his hands. “Well, you explain it then.”
I sighed. “I can’t. Not yet anyway,” I said, thinking about my options. There were still things I could do.
For one thing I hadn’t spoken to everyone at the school yet. And I still needed to figure out why someone had attacked me. Had I unknowingly frightened one of the people I’d questioned, frightened them badly enough to make them act? If so, who could it be? And why the heck ransack my house? Unless, of course, it was to look for the key I no longer had?
“What do you mean ‘not yet’?” asked Alan. “You can’t seriously be thinking about pursuing this on your own.”
“I’m not on my own,” I said, thinking of Colin and Kyla and all they’d done for me. And there was Laura Esperanza, too, who’d promised to ask questions for me.
I frowned at that thought. I should call her today to let her know what had happened and to tell her not to ask those questions after all. “And it’s not a matter of pursuing it,” I went on. “I’m involved whether I want to be or not, and I need to figure out what’s going on.”
“No, you don’t. This is a job for the police. You can’t go around putting yourself in danger. In fact, you should get away for a while.”
His concern was touching, but his suggestion was impossible.
“I can’t do that. I have a job.”
“After what’s happened, I’m sure you could get a leave of absence for a few weeks.”
“Yeah, right.”
I thought about the school, wondering if there was someplace there that Fred might have hidden a lockbox or a little safe. I’d searched the tennis shed thoroughly, but maybe he had a hiding place in his classroom. Or somewhere at his home. Even if his wife hadn’t known about it, maybe she’d be willing to search or to let me search.
Alan slapped his palm on the table, and I jumped. “You’re not listening to me.”
“I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“I said you need to leave here.”
“I heard you. I just didn’t think you were serious. I can’t leave.”
“Yes, you can. You were injured at a school-sanctioned event. They’ll be so happy that you aren’t suing them that they’ll probably beg you to take some time off. You could come to Dallas,” he added quietly and reached out to take my hand.
I looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time since he’d arrived, taking in the furrowed brows and lines of tension around his mouth. I had no doubt that he was really worried for me. But was it anything more than the concern of the moment, of one human being for another? Feeling his warm hand around mine, I realized this was the first time we’d touched in weeks. And as much as I’d missed it, it no longer felt the same.
I squeezed his hand, then pulled away, rising to get more coffee, and tried not to notice the hurt look on his face.
“I can’t leave. I have students and classes and now the tennis team. And regardless of how it looks, I don’t think I’m in any real danger anymore. Whatever is going to happen has already happened. Plus, I’ll be watching more carefully. Coffee?” I asked, holding up the pot.
He watched me through narrowed eyes, as though he was trying to figure out a particularly complicated puzzle.
Leaning back in his chair, he said, “So tell me more about this cop.”
Chapter 14
STAGES AND STOOGES
On Monday night I met Kyla at the Hyde Park Bar & Grill on Westgate, which had a small outdoor patio where you could get a reasonably priced dinner and happy-hour priced drinks. It was true that the patio was basically in a mall parking lot, but it was enclosed by walls and potted plants, which masked the lack of scenery, and it was fun sitting outside in the twilight in the warm evening air. It was only seven o’clock, but already the clear summer sky was aflame with vivid orange and gold, fading into pearly grays. Autumn was undoubtedly on the way, even if the central Texas temperatures hadn’t received the memo yet.
I sipped on a Brazilian merlot in a long-stemmed glass, while Kyla took a long deep draft of a Bombay Sapphire martini, which came with its own frosty shaker. She gave a great sigh of satisfaction.
“These are so good here. You really need to try one. Here, you want a sip?”
I declined. “Infidel. It would war with the fruity nose and exuberant plumminess of my merlot.”
She laughed. “That would be more impressive if you knew what it meant. I want to be a wine snot.”
“We should take a class. It would be fun.”
“So how did things go yesterday with your boys?”
“They aren’t my boys. And it was awful. No, wait. Awful is at least two steps above what it was. What is worse than awful?”
“Catastrophic? Horrific?” she suggested.
“Yeah. Both of those.” I stared into the burgundy liquid in my glass, feeling deeply depressed. “What am I going to do?”
Kyla gave me a measuring look. “So Alan walked in on you and Colin?”
“You make it sound like something was going on. Which it wasn’t. But yeah. He finally came right out and asked if Colin was sleeping with me.”
“What did you say?”
I frowned at her. “I told him no. Because he’s not. But I was mad at him for asking.”
“I don’t see why. Seems like a reasonable question to me. A blind monkey could tell Colin wants to.”
“What? Why a monkey?” I asked, diverted for a moment.
“Why not? They seem stupid and unobservant. Pick another animal, I don’t care. The point is, wait … what’s my point?” She took another sip of her martini, which was apparently already working.
“God only knows.”
“Oh, I know. The point is that Colin is interested, and there’s definitely some major chemistry going on between you two. Alan isn’t stupid. Well, he’s stupid about the way he’s been acting, but he’s not stupid about that. And let’s face it, he walks into your house early in the morning and Colin is there. What’s he supposed to think?”
“He’s supposed to trust me.”
“Yeah, well that gets back to the stupid bit. But come on. If the situation was turned around, you’d be having some questions.”
“What, you mean if Colin answered Alan’s door early in the morning? Yeah, I guess I would have some major questions. About both of them.”
She grinned. “That’s a good one. But you know what I mean.”
“I guess so.”
The waitress arrived, a young woman with a pierced nose and an intricate band of tattoos running from shoulder to wrist. “Y’all ready to order?” she asked.
“Sonora salad, chipotle ranch on the side,” said Kyla.
“Chicken fried steak with extra gravy, please,” I said.
“And your side?”
“Macaroni and cheese,” I said, ignoring Kyla’s expression of outrage and poorly disguised envy.
The waitress went off to place our order.
“Wonder if her mom hates the nose ring or the tattoos more,” I said.
“I don’t know, Grandma,” said Kyla. “So where are your two men now?”
I shrugged, taking a sip of wine to stall. I finally answered, “Alan went back to Dallas. He didn’t seem very happy. And I haven’t seen Colin since he left after meeting Alan.”
“Have you and Alan broken up?”
“I’m not sure. Not formally, anyway.”
“And just how depressed are you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You just ordered enough comfort food for a football team.” I began to protest, but she held up her hands. “Never mind,” she said. “You’re entitled. So what are you going to do? And I’m talking about your two boyfriends, so don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean.”
“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be sitting here drinking with you, now would I?”
* * *
On Tuesday morning, I got to school early and went in search of Laura, finding her, as expected, in her classroom bent over a stack of papers, reading glasses perched on the end of her nose. Today, her waist-length brown hair was falling loose around her shoulders in a shining soft curtain. She looked up as I opened the door.
“Queso paso,” I called by way of greeting.
She jumped to her feet. “God, I’m glad you’re here!” she said, then did a double take. “Whoa—what happened to you?”
I put a hand to my face. The bruises were fading to yellow and green, which was a good sign, but they were actually getting larger and uglier if that was possible. And apparently my makeup, which I’d practically applied with a spatula, was not doing a very good job of concealment.
“I’ll tell you later,” I said. “What’s up?”
She grabbed my arm and pulled me out the door. “Come on. You are never going to believe this.”
She hurried down the halls, out the doors, and across the courtyard to Building A, which held the gym, cafeteria, and theater. Her short legs meant she was taking two steps to each one of mine, her high-heeled sandals tapping out an allegro rhythm on the concrete floors. And still I found myself panting to keep up with her.
“You are not going to believe this one. You know how I told you I’d check with Roland about that night Coach Fred died? I came up here yesterday near lunchtime to pick up some homework to grade, and I saw the drama kids were having rehearsal. So I figured, what the heck, it was probably a good time to have a chat with him, right?”
“Well, maybe, but about that, Laura. I don’t want you asking any more questions,” I said, suddenly worried. I should have called her the day I was attacked. I hadn’t anticipated that she might come up to the school over the weekend.
She cut me off. “Never mind about that. You aren’t going to believe what I saw. I still don’t believe it.”
“What was it? And look, Laura, did you talk with Roland? Or anybody?”
“I did, but it wasn’t super helpful. He’s such a douche.”
We had reached the entrance to the theater, and she looked up at me. “Are you ready?” she asked, eyes sparkling.
“For what?”
“For this.” She grinned, and slowly pushed open the heavy door.
I peered around her. We stood at the back of the dark auditorium. Before us, the empty rows of theater chairs sloped downward toward the stage where a single set of soft lights illuminated a couple of kids who were rehearsing lines. It was what shared the stage with them that riveted my attention and had my jaw dropping in shock.
The stage set was spectacular. Glittering gold-sequined curtains covered the back wall, twinkling and sparkling with a thousand colors as they swayed in response to an unseen air current. Large platforms, painted blue and rose and lavender, stood at varying heights, all on wheels, capable of being moved and turned as the scenes required. Lavish furnishings filled the nooks: a plush red chaise longue that looked as though it were a real French period piece, a massive gentleman’s chest carved with cherubs and scrollwork, a delicate claw-foot table with two matching chairs. From the ceiling, a gilded trapeze swing cushioned with scarlet velvet hung suspended above the lights.
It was a set that was about a hundred times grander than the normal high school theater production. But the crowning glory stood just left of center, a fourth platform carved to look like an enameled and bejeweled elephant. On its back perched a flat dais made to look like a maharajah’s howdah, with golden posts supporting a silk awning dripping with tassels and gemstones the size of my fist.
I just stared.
Laura poked me in the ribs. “Come on,” she whispered, and we backed out of the theater, holding the door to keep it from making a noise as it swung shut.
Kids were starting to fill the halls, so we walked back toward our classrooms, keeping our voices low.
“What was that?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“No, really. What was that?”
“Yeah, I know.” Laura was almost beside herself with suppressed excitement. “They’ve done it this time. I’ve always thought they were funneling funds away from somewhere, and now we’ve got proof. I don’t care how many concessions they sell or raffles they hold, you can’t tell me the booster club earned that much.”
“No. There’s no way. That must be fifty thousand dollars worth of stuff.”
“And that’s not even the half of it. They had the costumes on a rack behind the stage when I was here yesterday. We’re talking real costumes, not just stuff the moms have sewn in their spare time. Even if they rented those, they’re still costing a small fortune.”
“And the elephant,” I said in awe.
“Yup. The elephant. It’s something else, right? I’m so excited. That bitch Nancy Wales will never get out of this one. I’m going to get Pat Carver to go over their books with a fine-tooth comb. That money came from somewhere.”
I was thinking hard. “They can’t possibly think that no one is going to notice.”
Indeed, the posters in the halls were already proclaiming the musical as “visually stunning” and urging students to get their tickets early for what were sure to be sellout performances. Until now, I’d thought this was the typical hyperbole of advertising.
Laura rubbed her hands together. “I wonder how they got the money,” she mused. “I can’t imagine them slipping anything by Pat. She’s like a pit bull. Last year, she wouldn’t even let the lacrosse team buy Windbreakers.” Her eyes widened. “Ooh, maybe it’s not even paid for. Maybe they charged it all, and the shit’s going to hit the fan after the performances.”
“Why are they doing all this? And why now?” I asked out loud, though I knew Laura had no way of knowing. “Nancy’s been the drama coach since the school opened. In fact, I’m pretty sure mammoths still roamed the earth when she started. Why would she suddenly put on a blowout performance? This isn’t even the normal time of year for the musical—they usually do it in the spring.”
“Who knows? Maybe she’s dying, and she wants to go out with a bang. Do you think she’s dying?” she asked, a little wistfully.
“No. Remember, only the good die young. Which means Nancy is immortal.”
We’d reached my classroom, and I stopped at the door. “One way or another, the money for that stage set will have to be explained. If you want to pursue it with Pat, go ahead, although I don’t think it’s necessary. Something like that is definitely going to come out. But, Laura, please don’t ask any more questions about the night Fred died. Not of Roland, not of anybody.”
She turned to face me. “Why? What’s this about?”
I pointed to my face. “Someone mugged me and trashed my house, and I can’t think of any other reason than because I was poking around about Fred. I don’t want the same thing to happen to you.”
Her eyes widened. “That’s crazy,” she said at last, but without conviction. “You think that whoever killed Fred is still hanging around here?”
She looked up and down the corridors uneasily, as though expecting to see a shadowy figure lurking in some corner like Snidely Whiplash.
“It’s a possibility,” I said. “I definitely think it’s someone connected with the school. Someone who thought that he was safe from suspicion until I started asking questions.”
“So, what did you find out?”
I sighed. “Nothing at all. That’s the weird thing. I haven’t learned one single thing that I thought was important. But I must have. Something I said or heard must have worried someone. I wish I knew what it was. But I don’t want you accidentally doing the same thing.”
She pressed her lips together, looking stubborn. “Are you sure it’s not just a coincidence and doesn’t really have anything to do with Fred?”
“I’m not sure about anything anymore, but please don’t take the risk. Besides,” I added as a distraction, “you have bigger worries now.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nancy is never going to move that elephant off the stage so that you can have the FLS recital.”
Her eyes widened, and a dull red flush slowly rose from her neck and suffused her cheeks like a rosy sunset. Her teeth clicked together with a snap.
“We’ll just see about that,” she said, and then tapped off toward her classroom.
