Dying to Teach (24 page)

The couple bent their heads bent together talking in low tones. Kiana couldn’t distinguish their words but the way the man tilted his head when he talked—

When Evan’s hand clamped over her mouth she realized she’d gasped in recognition. The couple stopped the conversation and turned to stare in their direction. The man stood up and walked toward them.

Kiana pushed Evan’s hand away from her mouth and took a step. She wasn’t sure where she’d go but Plan A formed in her head. A simple plan that involved running very fast in the opposite direction. Surely she and Evan could outrun old people. After all, they had to be in their forties.

The woman stood up too, and called out that it was probably a squirrel. The man laughed and went back to sit down.

Kiana chuckled inside. Of course, it had to be an animal. No way would anyone else, potential witnesses to this clandestine meeting, be out at five in the morning.

The couple returned to their low-toned talk. Kiana barely noticed because another recognition had taken place. When the woman stood up, Kiana realized she’d seen her before too. But where?

Evan tugged on Kiana’s sleeve. He wanted to leave. Embarrassed at catching illicit lovers or scared of being caught catching them? She wasn’t sure. But she had to know more. She yanked her jacket out of his grip and moved in a low crouch to another bush. The couple had relaxed and resumed talking.

“I thought you were going to call today,” the man said.

“Sorry, I had rehearsal. And I spent the afternoon moving things. You know about the move, right?”

“Of course. How’d rehearsal go?”

“Same as usual.”

“You excited about the show?”

She leaned away a moment so she could look up at him. “Sure.”

“Not nervous?”

She looked up at him again. “No. Why so many questions?”

Kiana fell back on her haunches. This scene wasn’t at all as she originally thought, a meeting between two lovers. Well, it was, but the reality of it was growing at an alarming rate. This person in the knit hat wasn’t, as Kiana originally thought, an adult keeping warm. She was a student from the school—acting in Kiana’s own play—and wearing the hat to disguise her identity. To hide the fact that she was dating an adult! A person employed by Carlson South High School.

She turned to see if Evan had made the identification also, but he had disappeared. When Kiana again focused on the couple, they were walking along the path, back the way they’d come. She rose from her hiding spot and followed.

She stopped on the edge of the parking lot. They stopped between their cars, ducked their heads together a moment, probably for a kiss good-bye, though Kiana couldn’t tell from this far away. Each got into their cars and drove away. Kiana took special notice of the girl’s car. Tomorrow she would seek out this girl. Why? Maybe to talk some sense into her. It was illegal for students to date teachers, wasn’t it?

The only other vehicle in the parking lot was Evan’s motorcycle. Where was he? Skirting the perimeter of the lot, in case some rapist came, she made her way to the bike. Just then, somebody hissed at her from behind. It was Evan. He hurried toward her.

“Where did you go?” she asked.

“I wanted to leave.”

“But you knew I’d kill you if I had to walk home from here,” she said, climbing on the motorbike.

“You’re going home?”

“Yeah. I want to take a shower.”

As Evan chugged toward her house, Kiana put thoughts of students messing with adults aside for a moment and wondered about Mr. Reynolds. It must be hard hiding a secret such as his. Hard to find somebody to go out with. Did he go to gay bars—things like that? Was there a gay bar in Carlson? Kiana didn’t think so, but there had to be several in Nashua.

The question was, did it matter? Could Mr. Reynolds’ possible relationship with another man have anything to do with Gwen’s murder?

TWENTY-SIX

The tongue flicked and the snake tilted its head. Angie slammed the drawer and backed away from the dresser even though the snake was too big to get out any of the tiny openings around the drawer.

Eyes riveted to the dresser she ran to the phone on the bedside table and dialed 9. When the operator answered she said, “I need help in room 554. There’s a snake in my dresser.”

“A snake, ma’am?”

“Yes. You know, big long and slimy, with scales and venom.”

Several second’s silence was followed by, “I’ll send someone right up.”

“Send a manager too.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And the police.”

More hesitation and then, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Angie, will you tell me what the hell is going on there?” Tyson was shouting. Probably he’d done so more than once.

Angie shook herself like a dog getting out of the water, hung up the table phone then said as calmly into the cell phone as she could, “There’s a snake in my dresser drawer.”

She had to give him credit; he didn’t question her like the operator had. He said, “Get out of the room, you don’t know what else has been done there.”

“I have to wait for management.”

She sat on the bed, making sure to keep at least one eye on the top drawer just in case it was some sort of magical snake and could osmose itself out of there. Maybe Tyson was right and she should leave. More than likely the snake was just meant to frighten her, which it had. But no way would she let whomever did it know.

“Make them give you another room.”

“Don’t worry. They’re gonna have to give me new underwear too.”

“Did you piss yourself?” he said. “I would’ve.”

“No, the thing’s in my underwear drawer. Tyson, you should see it, it’s got to be twenty feet long. It was looking up at me like I was invading its territory. No way I’m wearing those again.”

“I could make a joke here, but you’d probably hurt me when you got home.”

“No doubt.”

The knock on the door, though expected, startled her into almost dropping the phone. “They’re here,” she said. “I’ve got to go.”

“Not yet. First, make sure that’s who it is.”

She asked, “Who else would it be?” but he’d been through enough with her to know anyone could be standing on the other side of that door.

Angie stood and went to stick an eye against the tiny peephole. Two men stood in the hall. One wore a brown sports jacket and blue tie—yuk. The other wore a blue uniform shirt and carried a cardboard box.

“I think it’s them,” she said.

“Don’t hang up till you’re sure,” he said.

“Okay.” Angie opened the door.

The one with the sports jacket said in a voice just above a whisper, “You reported a snake in your room?”

“Yes.” She backed so they could come in. “I asked for the police too.”

“I want to assess the situation before I call them,” said the manager. “Where is this snake?”

He said it as though he believed she’d merely had a nightmare, that no way could a reptile be in his hotel. She didn’t argue. He’d see soon enough.

“It’s in the top left hand drawer.” She didn’t bother whispering.

They stepped into the room and shut the door. Angie almost recommended leaving it open in case they had to make a run for cover.

“Is the snake alive?” the manager asked in a normal tone now.

“Yes, unfortunately.”

“How big is it?”

“Well, it was all in a pile because I dumped it out of my scarf.” She pointed to the red silk lying on the floor in front of the dresser. “My brother had a snake whose head was about that big and it was eight feet long.” Even though she’d told Tyson it was twenty…

The manager’s brown eyebrows disappeared into the crinkles in his forehead. The one in the uniform shirt shrugged as if snakes were all in a day’s work. He pushed aside her hairbrush and jewelry case on the dresser top and set the cardboard box on the shiny surface. He pointed to the drawer in question. “Here?”

She nodded.

He gestured for the sports coat guy to turn on the overhead light then also pulled a penlight flashlight from his pocket. Safely armed with all the lighting he could need to save them from the monster in the dresser, he inched open the drawer and shined the small light inside. And nodded.

Good, now they all knew she hadn’t called them here for some sort of weird sex orgy.

He opened the drawer further. And further. Angie squeezed back against the wall as he laid the light on the dresser then reached toward the drawer. Angie fought the urge to close her eyes—movie scenes flashed into her head, of creatures leaping out and leaving everyone in the room a gory mess. Then it was up to the forensics guys to figure out what happened.

Perhaps she should’ve done as Tyson suggested after all and gotten the heck out of there.

She’d forgotten Tyson. She put the phone to her ear. “You still there?”

“Yeah. Everything all right?”

“So far.”

The man’s hand disappeared into the drawer. Angie held her breath till he lifted the thing out, one hand gripping it behind the head, the other holding it about halfway down the long, smooth length. He lifted it high and set it in the box. There was a bit of a struggle when the snake realized it was being shut into another small place, but the man managed to get it in without incident. He brushed both hands together in an
easy as pie
gesture. “Gentle as a lamb,” he said.

“I’ll take the lamb next time if you don’t mind.”

“Is this your brother’s snake?”

“What?”

“You said your brother had one.”

“My brother had a snake when he was ten. He’s in his forties now.”

“I hear snakes live a long time.”

“This isn’t my brother’s snake!”

“How did it get in here?” the manager asked.

“How the heck should I know?” Angie told herself to calm down. Be rational and they’d listen better. “Something woke me around three-thirty. That had to be when the intruder got in. Needless to say I’m not impressed with your security. Now I’d like you to phone the police.”

“I don’t think we—”

“Well, I do. If you don’t call them, I will. Now.”

“Atta girl,” Tyson said in her ear.

“Tyson, I’ll let you go now, the situation’s under control.”

“Okay. If you need anything gimme a holler.”

“Thanks partner.”

The manager had gone to the phone and was talking to someone.

“Who would put the snake here?” the worker asked.

“I don’t have any idea, but I appreciate you taking it out.”

“This snake has been somebody’s pet. He’s used to being handled. A snake this species, and size, is worth a lot of money.”

“Well,” she said as the manager hung up the phone, “I think you deserve to keep him as payment for doing such a good job.”

The manager nodded agreement. Why not? It saved him the responsibility of disposing of it. “The police are on the way,” he said.

“Look, I know you don’t want cops all over, but I work at the high school—”

“Where that teacher was murdered?” the worker interrupted.

“Yes.”

“Why are you staying at our hotel?” Did she detect a trace of suspicion in his voice? Like maybe her house was overrun with snakes and she moved here to get away from them?

“I am standing in for the teacher who died.”

The manager didn’t try to conceal his concern that the hotel was about to host the next murder.

“How about you switch me to another room and make sure it’s kept secret. Change my name on the registry so none of your staff can inadvertently give out my name. I’m sure you do it for dignitaries all the time.”

“What name are you registered under now?”

“Probably Carlson South High School, or something of that nature.” She gave her name anyway.

“I will facilitate the change immediately. Also, I will see to it your things are laundered.”

“Fumigated too.”

A knock came on the door. The manager opened it to a man wearing jeans and a very nice western style shirt. He showed a badge, said, “I’m Detective Rodriguez,” then stepped inside. His dark hair was pulled back at the nape of his neck. He shook hands with the manager. “I hear you’ve got an unwanted intruder.” His eyes came to rest on Angie and he smiled. What was that all about?

The manager gestured toward the box on the dresser. “Ken, you can take that thing home if you’d like. Unless the officer needs to see it. As evidence.”

“I really should take a look,” Rodriguez said.

The worker handed the officer the small flashlight. He nudged up a corner of the box and squinted inside. After a second he let go of the box, handed back the flashlight and smiled at Angie. It wasn’t a flirty smile—it was more of a knowing grin. Again she wondered what was going on.

The worker picked up the box. The manager held the door for the man to leave but remained standing there. “If there’s nothing else…”

“I’ll stop and see you on my way out,” the detective said.

“Thanks,” Angie said to the hotel men. She shut the door and faced the cop who now held a notebook and pen. Angie gave a play-by-play of her time since waking at 3:35 a.m. Detective Rodriguez wrote everything down, asked all the obvious questions, and received the same answers she’d given the hotel people.

Fifteen minutes later, he slapped the notebook shut. “I guess we’re done.”

“Why did they send a detective and not a regular officer?”

“I happened to be closest.”

Angie gathered up her purse and jacket. He held the door for her; they went out together. “Okay, so what was that look for?”

He asked, “What look?” even though it was clear he knew what she meant. “I met with Detective Jarvis late last night.”

Ugh. He must know Jarvis had just left her hotel room. Her face grew warm. Gosh, she wasn’t blushing, was she?

Thank goodness they’d reached the stairs. She opened the stairwell door and stepped into the echoing chamber, which earned a frown from the cop. Realizing he had no intention of taking the stairs, she said, “Meet you in the lobby,” and let the door swing shut.

Which was a very bad idea because on the landing sat an enormous, furry spider. She eased open the door, even though everything inside her screamed to run like hell, and backed into the hallway. The officer was just stepping into the elevator.