Schooled in Murder (26 page)

I said, “I’m not going to quit. Leaving would be an admission of guilt. It would cede the field to them. I’m frightened, and I’m angry. I want to beat those motherfuckers. I want them to suffer and be miserable.”

“Tom, I’m worried for you. They can push any number of your buttons. You need to stay calm at all times.”

“I’ll be careful.”

“Maybe you should have a security guard.”

“Maybe.”

“Don’t be alone with them. You need a witness or a lawyer or somebody. Remember what Todd Bristol said about having an escort in the building.”

“I’ll talk with Teresa Merton tonight.”

When I got home, I called Merton and told her the whole story leaving out only the name I’d promised to keep secret. She said, “I know you will anyway, but I urge you not to worry. You’ve done nothing wrong. I’ll contact the union legal service first thing in the morning about all the issues. It’s time we brought the cheating on statistics to a head.”

I said, “I’ll do whatever I can to help with that.”

She added, “Brandon Benson called. He doesn’t want you as his rep.” She gave a comfortable laugh, then said, “I hope that son of a bitch is squirming and miserable every step of the way as you represent him. Traitors don’t get to pick who talks for them or who represents them.”

I said, “Thanks.”

“No need to thank me,” she said. “I’m doing what’s right. Those who feel they are above the rules don’t get to dictate to the rest of us our behavior or our reactions to their behavior.

We don’t have to cower in the presence of the assholes in the universe, and in this case Brandon Benson is one of the sillier.”

I said, “The administration might not find out about them being in the room.”

“And sometimes the assholes get lucky. You might encourage him to quit before they get a chance to find out.”

“I already did.”

She said, “That’s why I like you as building rep. You think of the basics and tell them honestly. Thanks.”

I told her about the suggestion that I have some kind of escort in the building.

She said, “I’ll work out a schedule. You’ve got Morgan Adair in that third-floor corridor with you. Set something up with him, and then we’ll cover for any other times.”

I called Morgan. He readily agreed. “Should we all be scared?” he asked.

“They are frightening people.”

“Got that right. I’ve given up on Frecking. I’m never going to date someone I work with again.” I thought this was a sane notion.

Scott and I worked out, took showers, then sat on a mound of pillows in front of the fireplace.

Scott said, “I desperately want to say everything is going to be okay. I know I have no control over that.”

“These people are dangerous and vicious. They’re out of control. I think they would try anything. They would tell any lie. It’s like watching people having a tantrum and not being able to stop them. And all that leaves out the fact that two people have been murdered.”

“These people have tried to pin everything on you. They’ve failed.”

“Not from lack of trying.”

Scott said, “You’ve got good people in your corner making plans and giving support.”

“You’re the most important one.”

He put his arms around me, and I leaned my head back onto his shoulder.

He said, “You know I’ll do anything.”

“I know. I wish I could count on the assistant superintendent taking a stand.”

“You and I will stand together, no matter what it takes.”

I took great comfort in his arms that night.

36

Monday morning I felt a little better, but I was still tired from lack of sleep. I arrived at school about an hour early. On normal days I did that to be able to grade papers left over from the days before (a perennial problem), to make sure all my technology requirements for the day were set (any sensible teacher always assumes the technology in his classroom will break down), to double check the plans for the slow kids (if they didn’t have enough to do they could get restless; if they had too much to do they could get restless), and finally to sit, sip coffee, and think (sanity check).

Georgette Constantine met me at the teachers’ entrance. She motioned me into a nearby janitor’s closet. She was shaking. Her eyes held mine as she said, “Amando Graniento told me to keep you busy. He is down in your classroom. Spying. Sabotaging. I don’t know what all. It can’t be good.”

“I won’t tell him I saw you.”

“You can tell him I met you with bagpipes and a brass band and escorted you to your classroom. Don’t worry about me.” She took out her cell phone. “You’ll need a witness. Call me now, and leave your phone in your pocket.

When Teresa Merton and Meg come in, I’ll send them down to your room.”

I said, “You think of everything.”

She said, “This is murder, and we all need to take precautions.”

I thanked her. As I hurried toward my classroom, I repeated to myself my pledges about remaining calm. I was angry. Were these coordinated attacks? Maybe. I wondered if Graniento’s presence represented the second team. I’d had a confrontation with Spandrel and Bochka–was it going to be Graniento’s turn?

The building was mostly quiet. I nodded to the few other early teachers. Through the window in my classroom door, I could see that the computer monitor light was on. I paused at the doorway. I took deep breaths until I was under control. I took out my cell phone and checked to make sure it was on. I put it in my shirt pocket and pulled my jacket tighter to cover it.

Graniento sat at my desk. He was going through the drawers. Every few moments he’d tap several computer keys, then go back to searching. Occasionally, he added a piece of paper to a pile in the middle of the desk. I’d left no such pile last Friday. I thrust the door open and strode in. I made sure the door didn’t shut all the way.

Graniento jumped about a foot. I loved the simple-minded gape on his face.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

I said, “I work here.” I laughed. Really. I felt a little of the tension drain away. If he was that stupid, how much of a threat could he be? A lot, I warned myself.

I walked up to the desk and around to the side that he was on. As I moved, I got a continuous glare. I looked at the monitor. He tried to reach to turn it off. I grabbed the keyboard and moved it out of his reach. “The bigger questions
are, what are you doing here, and why would you be at my computer?”

“We have a right to look at how you’ve been using the Internet.”

“Do you?” I tapped several keys. “And here’s the recent history. Let’s see, for the past ten minutes someone has been attempting to access pornographic Internet sites on this computer.”

“You’ve been doing that.”

“Too sad for you, Tiger Lily. Georgette met me at the door. She knows you were here and what time you left your office to come in.”

“Georgette will be fired.”

“She’s got a union, and she’s got protections, just like I do.”

“You can’t prove I did that. You probably have it set on a timer.”

I laughed. I said, “Good try on getting into the pornographic sites. I, however, let the students in my classroom use this, and I’ve got the most sophisticated blocks and firewalls possible on this computer. Weren’t you beginning to wonder why you couldn’t get to any site?”

He stood up and moved around to the other side of the desk. He was wearing the most godawful combination of a brown suit, a green tie, and an orange shirt. The colors may have been supposed to suggest autumn but looked more like someone had ingested a Hawaiian flowered shirt and puked it up.

I sat down. I picked up the papers he’d placed in the middle of the desk.

“Let’s see what you’ve been looking through, or perhaps trying to plant.”

“I can look through your things.”

“What were you expecting to find here?” I asked. “A secret
stash? You could have brought drugs to plant, but then you’d have to bring them to school yourself.” I checked each drawer. Only the one on the top left seemed to have been disturbed. I said, “In here you would have found my lesson plan printouts, copies of my notes to parents, and copies of weekly progress notes on each of the kids with learning disabilities.”

I kept separate files on each kid and made daily notes on significant progress or problems, as well as a record of discussions with parents or LD teachers. These included times and dates for everything.

“Why are you here?” I asked.

“I can be here.”

“At the moment, I’m not disputing that. I asked why?”

“Looking for clues to solving the murder.”

“Really, in my desk? How odd. Did you expect to find a smoking eraser? Or perhaps an extra automobile?”

“I don’t answer to you.”

“But what you’ve done is suspicious.”

“You’re the one who’s the problem,” he said. He put his fists on the edge of my desk and leaned toward me. “You’re the one who can’t get along with people. You’re the one who causes trouble. You’re the one who stops anything from happening in this department.”

I said, “I rarely say a word at departmental meetings, which you don’t attend.”

“I get reports.”

“Do you? And you’ve done what to solve the problems?”

“I know all about you. You ignore all the directives.”

“Name a time and date when I have not complied with every single one of your memos, e-mails, commands, and directives. Produce a scintilla of evidence.”

“I don’t have it with me.”

“You don’t have it at all. Unless you plan to make it up. How would you do that? You couldn’t have a witness. You
don’t attend our meetings. Even the superintendent never attends meetings. Until last Thursday, he’d never been to my classroom. Bochka hadn’t either. Until then, I’d never met with you and any combination of them together.”

“They will vouch for me.”

“They who? And vouch for what?”

“Everyone. All the trouble you cause.”

“And what trouble would that be? Try to be specific.”

He leaned back and crossed his arms across his chest. “You know what I’m talking about.”

I said, “Nope. Not a clue.”

He said, “You’re always defending the teachers.”

I said, “Yes, that’s what a union representative does.”

“Even when they’re wrong.”

“Right or wrong, they’re entitled to representation. When they’ve done something wrong in the past, I’ve worked with administrators to try and help them improve their teaching, or to get them to stop doing what they weren’t supposed to be doing. You’re the ones who felt the need to be autocratic and bid and command. I was willing to work with you. You’re the one that wanted to run roughshod over the union.”

“You were against every change I’ve tried to make.”

I said, “You pick the curriculum or the teachers pick the curriculum, I don’t care. The kids in my classroom will learn. You can have a lovely power trip or you can work collaboratively with the teachers. I don’t have time for your nonsensical politics. You’re the one who’s been a traitor to the teachers and the kids. You’ve taken bullying and backstabbing to new heights. All to what earthly purpose?”

“You don’t understand how real businesses work. If this was a real business, you’d have been out on your ass the first day I was here.”

“Really? How could that have happened, even in a real business? I didn’t even speak to you the first day.”

“People confide in you.”

“A hanging offense in this jurisdiction. Or is it that they wouldn’t go talk to you? I thought the suckups did come rushing to you.”

“You older teachers have had a wild run of this place for years. You’ve driven it into the ground. You need to be reined in. You teachers don’t know how to run a school.”

I said, “So this is what running a school has felt like. Gosh, I missed that all these years. I wish I’d have known I was running the place, I’d have gotten paid a ton more, and I’d have fixed things up better and more efficiently. Nobody tells me these things.”

“Don’t try and make light of this!”

I was surprised at how calm I did feel. Scott would have been proud.

I said, “Humor is not your strong suit.”

He said, “You’re not in charge. You’ll never be in charge.”