Schooled in Murder (13 page)

I said, “But he was one of the suckups. Why wouldn’t Mabel Spandrel have given him tenure?”

“Who was it you think used the
n
word?”

This got a genuine gape out of me.

“Spandrel? Really?”

She nodded.

I said, “But Higden was on her side in the fights.”

Georgette said, “I just report the facts. No one is supposed to know about the deal. Several people do. If it will help, feel free to use the knowledge, but please don’t say who you heard it from.”

I didn’t question her. She was a good friend and a help. I said, “Of course.” And I wouldn’t. I always keep faith.

She said, “I couldn’t stand Higden. None of us could, and while the administrators loved him, there were problems. No administrator is completely blind. I always assumed that’s why he was sucking up so much: to get tenure. Some of them go that route. At the very least, they try to keep a low profile. If I hear anything else about that, I’ll let you know.”

We leaned back and sipped our coffee. I know she waited every year at about this time for Starbucks to come out with its pumpkin spice latte. We glanced around the office. It was still early enough that the lights weren’t on and most of the staff wasn’t in. Nevertheless, I leaned toward her again and asked, “Were Mabel Spandrel and Gracie Eberson having an affair?”

“Possible.” She thought a few moments. “Not likely. They may have gone drinking to the same places together, but Portia sometimes went drinking with that crowd. She didn’t say a thing about it.”

Portia was one of the other secretaries. I asked, “Is Portia reliable?”

“As any of us. I’ll check with her for sure.” I said, “Do you know anything about administrators fixing grades?”

A look of relief flooded over her face. She said, “Finally.” I gave her a quizzical look.

“You know how those new computer programs are designed to bamboozle people?”

I nodded.

“I studied them. I figured them out.” She craned her neck around the office. No one was near us. She said, “No one, absolutely no one, is supposed to know this. The administrators have been at that program for months. They asked me once how to do something, but I chose to be my befuddled self.” She fluttered her hand against the gold chain around her neck. “Good thing. They tried to get Portia to show them things, but Portia actually doesn’t understand the program.” She leaned close enough so she could whisper in my ear. “They wanted her to change grades.”

“You’re sure?”

“Portia has no reason to make that up. What they don’t know is I can detail how and when people get into various programs in the office and even when they try to do it on the Internet from home. I also know where they keep the file of secret passwords.”

“Georgette, that’s dangerous.”

“Not to me.” Again she swiveled her head around. “How do you think the state got wind of something fishy going on in this district? These people have got to be brought down and brought down hard.”

“Georgette, I’ve never been more honored to know you.”

“Pah,” she said, “these people are insane. They can’t keep doing what they’re doing and not get caught. I caught ’em. I’m proud of it.”

“Do they know that?”

“Oh my, no. I’m very careful. No, the board and those administrators have been after the secretaries, trying to cut our benefits, extend our workload. We’ve had to fight like the teachers have, although some of us haven’t been willing to fight. This way is perhaps more satisfying.”

“Is the scandal going to be made public?”

“If I have anything to say about it.”

“Who exactly does what?”

She looked around. Several of the other secretaries had come in.

I said, “Scott’s coming in for lunch with Meg and me. Would you like to join us for lunch?”

She nodded.

A crowd of teachers looking for schedules for the day trooped into the office. Georgette grabbed a stack and began passing them out. When they left, she handed me one. She said, “If you need anything, you know all you have to do is ask.”

I smiled at her. “I know. Thanks.”

17

As I stepped into the hall, a weeping Francine Peebles rushed up to me. She carried a jumbo box of tissues with her. Trust Francine to move from ineffective peacemaker to hysterical mourner.

“You found the bodies.” Her voice was just below a shriek. She grabbed tissues and wiped her face.

Milovec stomped up to me, “They should have called school off. Can’t the union do something about that?” Instead of a tapered white shirt and garish tie, he wore a white T-shirt with a pocket and his trademark tight black jeans.

Francine said, “The students, oh my, the students. We should call school off for a week. Will they ever recover?”

From the week off? Gracie’s and Peter’s death were sad and certainly students may have felt close to them. I didn’t see that as a reason for hysteria. I thought all the kids in both teachers’ classes should be talked to Monday by a social worker and the principal. Then any students who wished to talk to a counselor should be allowed to do so. But, just like you can’t vote against Santa Claus, you can’t argue with death-driven unreason. Just ask the Republicans. They’re masters at it.

Francine said, “Aren’t we in danger? How can they keep the school open if we’re in danger? Isn’t there a killer on the loose?”

Milovec said, “Can you get them to call off school and not have to make up a day?”

Ah, the I’m-in-deep-mourning-as-long-as-its-convenient faction had been heard from. I said, “I’m sure they’ll follow whatever is the protocol in these situations.”

Francine said, “I’m frightened. The school district and the union have an obligation to keep us safe. I don’t feel safe. We have to be safe. And the children on Monday, will they feel safe? I’m so frightened. What’s the union going to do about it?”

To Francine I said, “Can I get you something? Would you like to sit quietly for a while? Do you need to lie down? I’m sure you could go home.”

“Would they charge me with a sick day?”

She wasn’t that distraught.

“Probably,” I said.

“Well, then, I’ll stay. I’ll be able to comfort some of the other members of the staff. Or should I talk to Teresa Merton? I’ll get some people together, and we’ll talk to her. She’ll make them keep us safe. You are going to do something about this?”

“This what?” I asked.

“None of us feels safe in the school.” Once again she repeated her fears, paranoia, and hysteria.

If she repeated them enough times, I might be tempted to find my own supply of overlarge chalkboard erasers. I said, “We aren’t the police. We don’t have goon squads or a protection racket. This isn’t some poorly written movie with a mafia-teamsters plot.”

“The union has to do something!”

“You want armed guards to patrol the halls? To accompany all the teachers? You want one guard per teacher?”

“Something has to be done. We’re not safe. You should talk to the superintendent.”

I said, “You were right earlier. I believe the best person to talk to is Teresa Merton. I know she’ll listen to your concern, and she’ll know exactly what to do.”

“Yes,” Francine said. “You’re right. What about the wake and the funeral? Are they going to call off school for both of those? If they’re during school, are they going to allow us to take time off to go? Or will they pick representatives from among the faculty? I should be one of the representatives. I was close to both to them.” This was news to me. Before I could respond to any of this, she was off down the hall in a flight of panic. I knew Teresa would have the right instincts: to put off Francine’s request without getting Francine upset. I wasn’t sure anything I would say at this moment would mollify Francine. I was leaning toward “Get out of my life” and “Grow up.” Not as helpful in delicate situations as one would like.

I motioned Milovec farther down the corridor, away from any other teachers. I said, “About Peter Higden.”

“You ran over him.”

“No. I found him before I could drive over him. Do you have any idea who might have seen him last?”

“I don’t know. Everybody’s running around trying to figure that out.”

“Did he talk to anybody after the meeting?”

“Not that I know of.”

“If you find out anything, let me know. The more I know, the more I might be able to help you guys out.”

He looked like he bought this. He left.

Georgette came out into the hall. “Victoria Abbot, our assistant superintendent, has officially told me to say she’d like to talk to you.”

Meg had been busy. We stood off to one side of the office. “Is she available now?”

“She just went into a meeting with Bochka, Towne, Graniento, and Spandrel. I don’t know what it’s about.” Georgette smiled. “She got a call from Meg a few minutes ago. Abbot is one of the few people around here who is likely to be on your side.”

And the secretaries usually knew everything.

She added, “Did you know Graniento, Towne, and Bochka met until after one this morning?”

“What for?”

“That I don’t know. Towne was complaining about the lateness when he came in.” “Were they meeting here?”

“I doubt it.”

I said, “Carl Pinyon had tons of information about who went to out-of-district conferences.”

“Yes,” she whispered. “We’ve been going nuts the past few minutes trying to figure out how he got it. It will take us a while, but we should be able to figure this out. We secretaries keep a tight rein on things. The more recent data would be in the teachers’ building files, but the old stuff is in storage. It would take hours and hours for several people to find all the data. It’s strange. We’re the only ones who go back there, and none of us have been in weeks. There’s no reason to, and I’d know if someone had been back there for hours. I do the time sheets for all the secretaries and clerks. None of them has put in for excessive overtime, and it would take excessive overtime to find that stuff.”

“Somebody is desperate,” I said.

“Or out of their minds,” Georgette said.

I said, “Was there much of an investigation when Pinyon reported getting those threatening notes?”

“Oh my, yes. We were told to keep an eye on the teachers’ mailboxes. For a while they were thinking about getting surveillance cameras in the hall. There was no money for it
in the budget. He could have put the notes in there himself.” She shrugged. “Hard to tell.”

The police made their presence known; detectives interviewing, uniformed officers patrolling the halls. They had all kinds of people to talk to about the Peter Higden murder. They were set up in a conference room near the main office of the school.

18