California Demon (8 page)

Needless to say, Laura and I were greatly relieved. We could still be best friends even if our girls weren’t. But it was a heck of a lot easier this way.

Around us, parents, kids, and teachers were shifting to stations that had been set up around the perimeter of the gym. Drama club, math club, surf club, cheerleading. And, of course, the snack table. I wondered idly what kind of cupcakes Laura had bought, but it didn’t really matter. At the moment, all I cared about was my brilliant and accomplished daughter.

As the choir started up with a medley of Christmas songs, Allie bounded across the auditorium, all composure now abandoned. “A check!” she yelped, as Eddie caught her in a hug. “Mom, Eddie, look! I got a check for five hundred dollars!”

Eddie took it from her, then held it at arms length, squinting at it through his thick glasses. “Whoa-ho there, hotshot. Look at you. You’re rich!” He ruffled her hair, and she didn’t even duck away like she usually does when I show too much affection around her peers.

Eddie leaned in closer, his eyes on me as he spoke sotto voce to Allie. “Run,” he said. “Run now. And if anyone mentions educational savings accounts, you shoot first and ask questions later.”

I tried to look stern as Allie giggled and linked her arm through Eddie’s. Beside me, Laura stifled a smile as she looked from one to the other. “Good luck,” she finally said, giving me a quick pat on the shoulder. Then took off across the gym toward the choir risers, leaving me to deal with my insane family alone.

I sighed, and hoisted Timmy up onto my hip.

“So?” Allie said, bouncing from one foot to the other. “Can I buy an iPod? Please, please,
pleeeeeze
?”

“I don’t know,” I said, a little distracted because I saw Marissa stalking across the room toward us.

“Oh, come on, Mom! Eddie’s right. It’s my money. And I promise I won’t use it during class.”

That caught my attention. “I really hope you’re kidding. Because if that’s even an option at this school, we’re going to have to seriously consider the value of a private education.”

I was being serious, but that was lost on Allie. “Oh, Mom!” Then she looked at me with puppy dog eyes until I gave in.

I sighed. “It
is
your money—”

“Yes!” She shot her fist up in celebration. “You’re the bomb, Mom!”

“I know,” I said, amused. Timmy squirmed, demanding to be put down. I did, and then Allie grabbed his hands and did a little dance with her brother.

All in all, a nice little family moment. Except for the fact that we were missing part of the family.

A skinny girl with a long ponytail walked by with a tray of cookies and a determined expression on her face. Timmy immediately stopped dancing and looked at her longingly.

“Cookies!” Timmy said. “Want a cookie!”

Since the girl hadn’t heard him, I reached for his hand, figuring that was as good an exit line as any, but Eddie got there first. “Come on, youngster,” he said. “I’m gunning for one of them chocolate chunk monstrosities.”

“Monsters?” Timmy said, looking more excited than scared. “I wanna see the monsters!”

I frowned and met Eddie’s eyes, certain that he could read my mind. Because the last thing in the world I wanted was for my little boy to meet up with the wrong kind of monster.

“I’ve got him,” Eddie said. “We’ll find you in a few.”

“
Mom?
Hell-ooo?” Allie waved a hand in front of me. “Where’s Stuart? He
swore
he’d be here.”

“Um,” I said, cursing since I really should have been prepared. I mean, I’d definitely seen that one coming.

Fortunately, I was saved from responding by my arch-enemy. Marissa sidled up, her brow furrowed, her mouth a thin red line. “Dammit, Kate. Since you insisted on chaperoning, I’d appreciate a little help over there.”

“Sure, Marissa. No problem. I’m just talking to my award-winning daughter.”

“Hi,” she said, barely acknowledging Allie. “You want to get over there and help me?”

I pulled myself up on my toes and looked over her shoulder. Four of our charges were still sitting on the bleachers, staying out of trouble as far as I could tell. The others were scattered around the gym, students at their sides and smiles on their faces. “I think most everyone is taken care of,” I said. “Until it’s time to go back, shouldn’t we let them hang with their families?”

“Taken care of?” She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I don’t think Dermott Sinclair is taken care of.”

Actually, he was, but I wasn’t about to say as much. Instead, I tried to look appropriately baffled. “Sinclair? I thought he was with you.”

“What are you talking about? I left him with you on the bus.”

“Right. But then he hurried out. To find you guys, he said. I assumed he’d catch up to you in the gym.” I kept my eyes on hers, daring her to call me a liar.

“Well, he didn’t,” she said sharply. “I’m so glad you signed on to chaperone today, Kate. You’ve been such a big help.”

I forced a bright smile. “But it looks like you did just fine on your own. Everyone’s here and happy.”

“Except Sinclair.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “That
is
odd.” I scooted toward Allie and hooked an arm around her shoulder. “We’re going to go make the circuit, okay? And we’ll keep an eye out for Sinclair. He’s got to be here somewhere. I mean, where else could he be?”

A loaded question, but not one I wanted answered.

Marissa fidgeted, but she didn’t press the point. I took the opportunity to flee. Demons, I can handle. An irritated soccer mom? No thank you very much.

Allie was watching me curiously as we walked away, and I tried to run the conversation back through in my head, wondering if I’d said anything suspicious. Thankfully, though, demons weren’t on my daughter’s mind. Instead, she turned back to another uncomfortable subject: Stuart.

“So where is he?” she asked.

“On his way,” I said. “Probably already here. He was in his car the last I talked to him,” I finally said, desperately resorting to the kind of lies that would attract lightning from the Heavens.

“Oh. I was hoping he’d . . .” She trailed off with a shrug and a smile. “It’s okay. He’ll be just as impressed with the check. But there’s no way I’m donating it to his campaign.” The last was said with an impish grin, but I know my kid well, and her light tone was laced with hurt. Can’t say I blame her. I’d skipped right over hurt and moved directly to enraged. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars.

“He hasn’t been here too many times,” she said, rummaging in her purse and pulling out her cell phone. “What if he’s wandering the blue halls? Should I give him a call?”

I hesitated, certain that the only wandering Stuart was doing was the kind that sent him meandering down the primrose path toward the promise of campaign dollars. Not entirely sure what to say to Allie, I chose the ever popular “Um” response.

She started to dial.

“Allie!” I said, snatching the phone out of her hand.

“What?”

“You’re only supposed to use your phone for emergencies,” I said. “Stuart and I were perfectly clear about that.”

She blinked at me, her expression befuddled. “Well, yeah, but you’re here.”

“Right. But Stuart’s not. So when he sees that you’re calling, he’s going to think it’s an emergency and worry.” I put my hand on my hip for effect. “I know I did when you called earlier.”

She actually looked contrite. “Right. So, um, I guess I won’t call Stuart.”

I nodded, hoping I didn’t look too relieved. Then I slipped her phone into my purse. Just to be safe.

“
You
call him.”

I blinked. “What?”

“Come on, Mom! It’s not like he’ll worry when he sees
your
caller ID, right? And I really want to tell him about the check. And you know Stuart. He’s never going to call us and admit he’s lost.”

I frowned. The trouble was, I did know Stuart. And I knew the odds were good he was nowhere near this building.

But since I couldn’t think of a graceful way to refuse to call my husband, I reached into my purse. I made sure to keep the book hidden, all the while praying that Stuart would draw on his fast-developing political skills to ensure Allie’s feelings didn’t get hurt.

It wasn’t until I’d pawed through all the detritus in my bag, though, that I remembered. “I can’t call Stuart,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound as gleeful as I felt. “I dropped the phone, remember?”

“Oh.” She made a face. “Right.” I could practically see the wheels turning in her head. “He might be trying to phone you. I should probably call and let him know you’re okay.”

I wanted to argue, but what would I say? We’d reached the point where it would be ridiculous for me to protest anymore. And, frankly, I was so irritated with Stuart for not having shown up, that I figured it was only fair that he get put on the spot. Passive-aggressive? Perhaps. Or maybe I was just tired.

At any rate, it didn’t matter. Because just as I was about to hand Allie her phone, Mindy raced over.

“Did you hear! Did you hear! They found a dead guy in the basement. Isn’t that just the grossest thing ever?”

“No shit?” That from Allie, who immediately shot me a mortified look. “Sorry. I mean, no kidding?”

“Honest! Mom and I were talking with Principal George when the EMS guy came in and pulled her away. I heard everything.” She leaned in closer and added, conspiratorially, “They said his face was bashed in.”

“Ew!” Allie squealed, as I tried to look both disgusted and concerned.

Laura, who’d been following Mindy at something less than a sprint, sidled up beside me. “A little drama in these hallowed halls,” she said. “You’ve heard?”

There wasn’t anything unusual about her tone or her words. Even so, I knew what she was asking:
Was this your handiwork?

“Yeah,” I said. “I’ve heard.” And I really needed to know what was going on in that hallway. Did they believe it was an accident, or were they going to be looking for me?

“Come on,” Mindy said, gesturing for Allie to follow.

“Hold on a second, girls,” I said. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“No way, Mrs. Connor! This is a totally good idea. I’m on the newspaper staff, remember? And they never give the freshmen anything to write except profiles of the teachers. This is like a total break for me.”

“Forget it, Woodward,” Laura said.

Mindy blinked. “Woodward?”

Laura just shook her head. “You’re not prowling the halls to go see a dead body.”

“But, Mom!”

“No,” Laura said. “Now go. Shoo. Both of you.” She pointed to the far side of the gym. Our girls hesitated, then shared one of those looks that all mothers of teenage girls are familiar with. The one that says,
My mom is a freak.

“Whatever,” my daughter said. Then off they went, their heads bent close as they ran down a list of their mothers’ imperfections.

I turned to Laura, unable to stop my grin.

“What?”

“If I tell you
I’m
going, are you going to call me Bernstein?”

“Very funny. And you can thank me later for getting those two out of our hair.” She cocked a head toward the door. “Let’s go.”

I hesitated only long enough to make sure the girls weren’t watching and to scan the gym for Timmy. I found him and Eddie in a corner that the PTA had set up as toddler central. He (Timmy, not Eddie) was neck deep in a kid-die pool filled with plastic balls, the grin on his face so wide I could see it from yards away.

I waved, managed to catch Eddie’s attention, and gestured for him to come over. He did, first making sure that one of the ladies standing nearby would keep an eye on my boy.

Laura and I met him halfway and gave him a brief rundown. “We’re going to go see what’s up,” I said, ending the story in the vaguest way possible.

“You gals go on ahead,” he said. “I’ll watch the youngster.”

“You’re sure?” I asked.

He met my eyes. “Not my business anymore, is it?”

I nodded. Because the truth was, as much as I appreciated having Eddie around, I was the Demon Hunter in these parts. And at times, that responsibility weighed heavily.

As Laura and I hurried out, I heard a few of the PTA ladies calling to me. I pretended a sudden case of deafness and kept on going. Demons first. Refreshment Committee later.

We racewalked back through the halls until we saw the uniformed officers standing near the door. Yellow crime-scene tape had been spread across the hall, essentially barring anyone from passing. A stretcher—empty—took up a large chunk of space near the door. The stretcher didn’t bother me. The cops, however, did.

I noticed David Long standing off to one side in a cluster of other teachers, and waved. “What happened?” I asked, since that seemed like a normal, I’m-not-involved kind of thing to say.

David stepped away from the other teachers, one of whom I recognized but couldn’t place. From my new perspective, I also noticed the janitor, decked out in green coveralls and a sour expression. I couldn’t blame him. I’d had a demon die in my kitchen a few months ago (or, more accurately, I’d
killed
a demon in my kitchen a few months ago), and it’s put a pallor on cooking ever since.

“Damn kids,” the janitor muttered, his voice so low I was reading his lips more than hearing his voice. “Always causing trouble.”

The gripe seemed out of place, so I tossed another query into the mix. “Do they think kids did this?”

David looked surprised by the question. “I don’t think so. Heart attack’s what I’ve been hearing, not that they’re giving us any solid information yet.”

I pondered that. Considering Sinclair had a spike through his eye, “heart attack” seemed a tad unreasonable. Then again, the man
had
suffered a fatal heart attack. At least, he had originally. There were probably still signs. And if the EMTs assumed that he had an attack, and then fell on the spike . . .