Melanie Travis 06 - Hush Puppy (6 page)

Across the hallway, I could see into the classroom beyond and out its wide windows. A silvery blue police car was speeding up the long driveway, followed by an ambulance from Greenwich Hospital. Leanne Honeywell, the sixth grade math teacher, was hurrying down the hallway toward her room.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

She stopped, glanced around, then whispered, “I’m not really sure, but whatever it is, Mr. Hanover looked like he was going to have a stroke when he heard about it. He told us all to stay calm, go to our classrooms, and keep the kids inside. He was heading down the hill to the caretaker’s cottage.

“All I can think is that something terrible must have happened.”

The faculty lounge emptied faster than you can say Kibbles ‘N Bits.

Ed, Sally, and Rita went straight to their classrooms. Not having students to attend to, Michael and I volunteered to clean up and return the lunch trays to the dining room. When that was done, there was a certain sense of inevitability to the way we found ourselves standing next to the back door.

“We ought to go see what’s happening,” said Michael. My kind of guy.

“Maybe we can help,” I said.

“After the police and an ambulance crew have already arrived? Don’t bet on it.” His steps matched mine as I hurried out the door and down the stairs. “I just want to see what all the fuss is about.”

The caretaker’s cottage was a euphemistic name for an old wooden shed that stood next to the soccer field and housed most of the tools used by Krebbs and the groundskeeping crew. Erected at the same time as the original house, it had obviously suffered periods of neglect and haphazard repair. Two of its windows had broken panes, and the back wall tilted alarmingly. Though I’d passed by the building numerous times on my way to the sports fields, I’d never had occasion to go inside.

From the top of the hill, we could already see a knot of people gathered around the door to the cottage. Police and EMTs were bustling in and out. Russell Hanover was standing off to one side, looking deeply troubled. Michael and I headed his way.

“What is it?” Michael asked. “What’s happened?”

The headmaster wasn’t pleased to see us. “I asked everyone to stay inside. I don’t want the children alarmed in any way. Please go straight back to your classes.”

“We don’t have any classes,” I said. “Michael and I were working on the pageant. Is there anything we can do to help?”

Russell considered his answer for a long moment. This was the first time I’d seen his composure shaken. He looked like a man who had no idea what to do next.

“We seem to have all the help we need,” he said finally. “I’ve been asked to stay out of the way, and I suggest that both of you do the same.”

Michael craned his head around the group, trying to see inside the shed. “What’s going on in there?”

“Apparently there’s been an accident. Mr. Krebbs has suffered an injury, and the authorities are seeing to him now. I’m sure everything will be fine.”

Looking at what was happening around us, I didn’t share his confidence. Though I couldn’t see into the building, none of the emergency personnel seemed too concerned about the condition of Eugene Krebbs. He hadn’t been brought out, and nobody was rushing to his aid. Instead another patrol car had arrived, and an officer with a video camera had begun to tape the proceedings.

Having had the misfortune to be present at the scene of several murders over the last few years, I was pretty sure this sort of activity meant that Krebbs was anything but fine. The arrival of a dark blue sedan containing Detective Thomas Shertz, whom I’d met when a member of Aunt Peg’s kennel club had been murdered the year before, only confirmed my suspicions. He parked his car at the edge of the field and climbed out, his topcoat flapping around him in the wind.

If Detective Shertz had been born a dog, he’d have been a Chow. The attributes were all there: squat build, bushy hair, pugnacious features. Once I’d gotten the image in my mind, it was almost a disappointment to find that he didn’t have the requisite black tongue. The detective conferred with the officers at the scene, then came over to speak with Russell.

He introduced himself, then pulled out a small pad of paper and began to take notes. “I understand you’ve identified the man in the shed as Eugene Krebbs.”

“That’s correct. He’s the school’s caretaker. Krebbs has been employed at Howard Academy for decades. Longer than anyone else, I think.” Russell’s voice choked. “Is he . . . ?”

“Dead?” Shertz said. “I’m afraid so.”

“How did he die?” I asked.

“He appears to have been stabbed. Most likely with the pitchfork we found lying next to him.” Belatedly, Shertz’s gaze swung in my direction. He frowned slightly, as if trying to place me. “You would be?”

“Melanie Travis. I’m a teacher here. You and I met last year when Monica Freedman was murdered.”

He thought for a moment, then said, “The kennel club case?”

I nodded.

Beside me, Russell Hanover had grown pale. “Murder? Are you trying to tell me that Eugene Krebbs was
murdered ?”

“At the moment, it looks that way.”

“But that isn’t possible! Not here. Not at Howard Academy . . . !”

Shertz mustered a sympathetic expression; but his posture—shoulders thrust forward, chin jutted—radiated determination. No doubt he’d heard similar protests before. “I’m going to have to ask you some questions.”

“Of course,” Russell agreed. “We’ll cooperate in any way we can. Let me explain something, however. Some of the most prominent people in Greenwich entrust the care of their children to Howard Academy, and I have no intention of breaching that trust. My students’ welfare is my highest priority. I must have your assurance that their needs will come first.”

“What comes first is finding a murderer,” Shertz said implacably. “I understand your concerns, and I’ll do everything in my power to take them into consideration. But I won’t allow my investigation to be compromised in any way. Is that clear?”

Russell nodded curtly. He was much more accustomed to giving orders than taking them, and it showed.

“Who found the body?” asked Detective Shertz. He looked over at Michael, the one member of our party he hadn’t heard from yet.

The drama coach shook his head. “Melanie and I were inside in a meeting when the bell rang and we saw the commotion out here.”

“Mr. Hanover?”

“I don’t know,” Russell admitted. “I received a call from Mrs. Plimpton in the kitchen. I was in my office, and Harriet passed her right through. She was terribly flustered, and it took a minute before I could even understand what she was trying to tell me. She said she’d been told there was a body in the caretaker’s cottage. Of course, I was sure she was mistaken. I thought perhaps someone was playing a prank.”

“Is that the kind of thing that would pass for funny around here?” Shertz asked humorlessly. Even in a town as upscale as Greenwich, Howard Academy was considered a bastion of privilege. The detective wouldn’t be the first person, who couldn’t afford to send his children to the school, to assume that those who did attend were willful, shallow, and overindulged.

“Hardly,” Russell snapped. “However, at the time I didn’t see any other possible explanation.”

“Did Mrs. Plimpton tell you who’d given her that information?”

“Not that I recall. Our conversation was rather brief. I came directly outside to see what was going on.”

“And when you got here . . . ?”

“I immediately went into the shed.”

“You couldn’t see Mr. Krebbs from the doorway?”

“No, it was dark. I turned on the light. Of course, then I saw Krebbs lying on the ground.”

“Did you approach the body?”

“I’m not sure.” Russell shivered slightly, and I wondered whether his reaction was due to the chilly March air or the memory of what he’d seen. “I think so. Yes, I believe I must have. I thought he was unconscious. I certainly didn’t realize he was dead.” His cheeks grew pink. “I knew I had to go get help. I went right back up the hill to the school and called the police.”

Shertz flipped his pad over to a clean page. “Did you touch anything in the shed while you were there? Maybe pick something up or move a piece of equipment out of the way?”

“No, nothing,” Russell said firmly.

“You touched the light switch,” I pointed out. Shertz glanced in my direction, then back to the headmaster.

“Maybe I did.” Russell exhaled loudly. “I’m afraid I wasn’t paying any attention to details like that. As I’m sure you can imagine, this has all been a most distressing experience.”

“We’re going to need to get your fingerprints,” said the detective. “Who else has access to the building?”

Russell was silent, staring down at his hands as if imagining the ignominy of being fingerprinted. “I think pretty much everyone around here does,” I answered for him. “I’ve never seen the door locked, and during the day, when Krebbs and his crew are out working, it’s often sitting open.”

Shertz pursed his lips and made a note. “I’d also like to speak to the woman who called your office. Mrs. Plimpton, right? Where would I find her?”

“She runs our food services.” Russell gestured up the hill toward the main building.

Standing where we were, it was easy to see that if someone had left the caretaker’s cottage and gone for assistance, the nearest door would have led directly into the kitchen. But who had sounded the alarm? I wondered. And why hadn’t that person stayed around to help?

“I don’t understand any of this,” said Russell. “It makes no sense. Why would anyone want to do such a thing?”

“That’s what we’re going to find out.” Shertz flipped his pad closed and put it away. “Was anything of value stored in this shed?”

“As far as I know, just some tools and equipment. To tell you the truth, until this afternoon I’d never been inside. Krebbs was in charge of the caretaker’s cottage. I had no reason to question his stewardship.”

“Do you think he might have interrupted a burglary?” Michael asked.

“It’s a possibility,” said Shertz. “Until we know more, we’re not ruling anything out.”

“Detective?” one of the officers called from the doorway of the shed. “Could you come over here?”

“Excuse me,” said Shertz. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

“What an ungodly mess,” Russell muttered under his breath. “Once the parents get wind of this, all hell will break loose.”

Trust Russell to be more worried about the school’s reputation than the fact that Krebbs was dead. Then again, considering the tenor of my recent dealings with the caretaker, I wasn’t exactly overwhelmed with grief myself. Michael, meanwhile, had tagged along after Detective Shertz and was taking in the scene as avidly as a sightseer at a prime tourist attraction.

“The sooner the police get this wrapped up the better,” Russell said, turning to me. “Perhaps you could run up to the kitchen and fetch Mrs. Plimpton? I’m sure the detective won’t mind speaking with her down here.”

And even if he did, Russell probably wouldn’t allow him much choice. Already the headmaster was working to control the spin and distance the school from what had happened. If he could arrange for Shertz to conduct his interviews off school grounds, I was sure that would have pleased Russell even more.

Mrs. Plimpton was a motherly figure with soft, gray hair and a fondness for frilly aprons and support hose. The fact that her kitchen ran like a well-oiled machine, however, made me suspect that there was a core of steel beneath the cream puff exterior. As soon as I opened the back door, Mrs. Plimpton accosted me. Clearly she’d been watching the proceedings out the window.

“Well?” she demanded.

“It’s Eugene Krebbs,” I said.

“Oh Lord,” she whispered, crossing herself. “How bad?”

“He’s dead.”

“Dead?” The shriek came from the other side of the large kitchen, where two of her helpers were standing behind a stainless-steel counter. Mrs. Plimpton sent a glare in their direction.

“The police would like to speak with you,” I said.

“With me? Why?”

“They think he was murdered.” I’d lowered my voice, but it didn’t seem to matter. Another scream sounded, louder than the first.

“Murdered on the job!” cried a woman with the voice of Minnie Mouse. “What’s this world coming to? Who’s going to be next?”

“You are, if you don’t stop that wailing,” Mrs. Plimpton said sharply, before turning back to me. “I don’t know anything to tell the police. Why do they want to talk to me?”

“Mr. Hanover said you were the one who called him . . .”

“He’s in charge. Someone tells me something like that, I figure it’s up to him to see to it.”

“You did the right thing,” I said reassuringly. “I’m sure that’s all the police want to ask you about. Mr. Hanover asked me to come and get you so you could talk to the detective.”

“Outside?” From her tone, you’d think I’d suggested we take a dip in Long Island Sound.

“Mr. Hanover thinks it will be easier.”

“I’ll have to get my coat. I’m certainly not going out there like this, and catch my death of cold.”

I waited while she went into a back room. The kitchen help passed the time by standing around staring at me. If they had work to do, they weren’t in any hurry to get to it. One, a skinny young woman with buckteeth and a nervous smile, edged closer around the counter.

“Was there a lot of blood?” she whispered.

“I don’t know. I didn’t go inside the cottage.”

“I’ll bet it looks just awful in there,” said the other. From her voice, I recognized her as the shrieker. “I bet there’s blood and guts everywhere, just like in the movies. I wonder who they’re going to get to clean it up. They better not be asking me!”

“It’s a crime scene, stupid,” said the first. “Ain’t nobody going to be cleaning in there while the police are still looking for clues.”

“Krebbs, murdered.” The shrieker shook her head. “I always knew that man was up to no good.”

“Really?” I asked. “What makes you say that?”

“Just the way he acted. He gave me the willies, always skulking around and showing up places where you didn’t expect him to be. How old was that man, anyway? A hundred? What was he still doing working? This school gives me benefits. You better believe when I get to be his age, I won’t be working no more.”

“Wonder if he’ll turn himself into a ghost,” mused Buckteeth. “He was ugly enough for it. Big old house like this ought to have a ghost, you know?” She laughed at the thought. “Just a little something to threaten the kids with when they get out of line.”