Game Change: A Nina Bannister Mystery (The Nina Bannister Mysteries Book 3) (11 page)

“Not really. Owner had the good sense to get them outside. There were a couple of broken doors, couple of broken mirrors, a glass or two shattered, something about a pool cue, a busted out window, and somehow a dog got its lip cut.”

“A dog.”

“Yes, ma’am. We’re still trying to piece it together.”

“Those bloody off shore blokes!” Max screamed, balling up his fist and banging on the bars.

“They think they’re so almighty tough! Not one of them, though, not one of them, is a match for a real literary man!”

Upon hearing the words ‘literary man,’ Tom Broussard grunted, swore inaudibly, and turned over on his stomach, where he passed out again.

“My God that man can write!” whispered Max Lirpa.

It was at this time that Penelope Royal arrived, hurtling down the stairs with the mincing delicacy of a rhinoceros.

She barged into the cell area, stared at Moon, then bellowed at him:

“YOU ----!! IF YOU-------I’LL-------AND---

“Yes, ma’am,” Moon replied.

Then Penelope turned on Max:

“-------------------------------------------------!!”

She stopped to catch her breath.

He’d taken a step back, then another step as the fusillade continued.

Now he was standing pressed against the wall, staring at Penelope, his mouth open.

As for her, she was now glaring at Moon.

“Open the ------------------------ door!” she bellowed.

Nina had never heard a door described in such a way.

She stared at it; it seemed to shrink and cower.

Moon took from his pocket a key made for The Tower of London.

He turned it in the lock, yanked once, and pulled the door open.

Penelope, ignoring Max, somehow got her arms around her husband, and with massive strength, got him upright.

This action brought him into a semi-conscious state, so that he could look down at her as she was supporting him.

“Honey?”

She stroked his cheek with one of her massive palms and said, quietly:

“Are you all right, Baby?”

He nodded, a bit of brown drool seeping from his mouth as he did so.

“I think so.”

“Let’s go home, Darling. I’ll take you to the boat. You’ll be ok.”

He nodded, dazedly:

“All right.”

Somehow the tangle of muscle and hair and vomit and flesh that was now both of them lurched and staggered its way up the stairwell.

Penelope turned and said to Moon:

“-----!”

Then she said to Max:

“-----!”

Then she disappeared up the stairwell.

Max Lirpa continued to stare at the now empty stairs for a time.

Finally, he walked to the now open cell door, looked at Nina, and said:

“What a magnificent woman.”

Nina turned and left.

CHAPTER 8: FIRST MEETING

“And I reckon them that are good must suffer for it the same as them that are bad.”

––
William Faulkner
,
Light in August

On Monday, January fifth, school resumed in Bay St. Lucy.

On Wednesday, January seventh, April van Osdale made her first appearance.

Nina had been apprised of it and was waiting in the doorway when a large black van, dispatched from city hall, pulled to the front curb and stopped.

April van Osdale, a briefcase clutched in her right hand, got out of the car and waved:

“Ms. Bannister!”

Nina waved back.

The woman walking up to her had inverted her outfit, and was now wearing not a white angel food cake with strawberry trim but a strawberry cake with white angel food trim.

Red red red…

…and a little white white white.

She extended a hand, which Nina took, thinking as she did so that the handshake was firmer than one would have expected from a pastry.

“I’m so sorry we didn’t get to talk more at the press conference!”

“I am, too.”

“So many people, you know.”

“There was a crowd. Have you gotten moved in at city hall?”

“Yes. Everything’s been done. They’ve created a nice office for me. You’ll get to see it, I’m sure. We’ll be spending a lot of time together in the next months.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” said Nina.

Gag a maggot.

“And so—what does our schedule look like today?”

“English faculty first, then, history, then math. That should give you a pretty full morning.”

“Wonderful. And by the way, Nina—I can call you Nina, can’t I?”

“Of course.”

“By the way, I’ve been hearing some wonderful things about you. You’ve just come out of retirement?”

“Yes. Paul Cox asked me to.”

“So I hear. Well, Mr. Cox has some interesting ideas. I’m sure he’ll be a major help to the governor.”

“I hope so.”

“At any rate, everyone in town remembers you as a teacher. Wherever I go, it’s ‘Nina taught us this’ and ‘Nina taught us that.’ And then, you spent your last years as principal?”

“Yes. The last four.”

“You must be somewhat overwhelmed. So much has changed.”

They were inside now, walking along the main corridor toward room 102, where Eunice Duncan and the five other English teachers were awaiting them.

Except for Max Lirpa, who had called in sick this morning.

Thank God.

Some time April van Osdale would have to find out about Max.

But not today. Not today.

“And Nina, this is somewhat embarrassing, but––”

“Yes?”

“I do feel as though, thinking about it, we may have met somewhere.”

“Strange. I have that feeling too.”

“Were you at the state conference on Innovative Teaching Strategies last March?”

“No. No, didn’t make that one.”

“Well, that’s not it, then. Sometime though, and somewhere, our paths have crossed. It will come to me.”

Not from me
, thought Nina.

If you don’t remember, then to hell with you.

She did not say this.

“I’ll try to figure it out too,” is what she did say.

And they were at the door of the meeting room.

Most faculty meetings were held in the library, which could seat seventy people comfortably. The room they were now entering was known simply as a conference room. It held a round table, several chairs, and audio visual equipment that allowed Power Point presentations to be flashed on a screen in the front of the space.

“Good morning, Ladies!” said Nina, in a voice that was much cheerier than her mood.

Group response:

“GOOD MORNING!”

Everyone standing.

“Take a seat,” she said, “Take a seat.”

Everyone did so.

Now she and the vegetative growth beside her stood before the group.

“I want to introduce to you Dr. April van Osdale. Dr. van Osdale, as I’m sure you know by now, has been named Educational Liaison Officer by the office of our state senator and will, in the following months, be helping us to improve the performance of our students. And so, I give you Dr. van Osdale!”

Some faint applause.

Then April van Osdale:

“I want to begin by telling you how much I look forward to working with you, and how much I appreciate the toil and effort you put in, each and every day. I’ve spent more than my share of years in the classroom, and I realize just how arduous the job can be.”

Pause.

“Still….”

Uh oh
, Nina found herself thinking.

Something ominous about that ‘still.’

“Still, ladies, we’ve got a lot of work to do. Bay St. Lucy’s combined scores for the November tests are extremely low in comparison to similar institutions elsewhere in the state. This is not satisfactory to anyone. Not to the people who represent us in Jackson; not to the parents of our children, who represent, as I’m certain you all know, our most precious asset; and not to me. In short, it’s going to change.”

No answering that.

The five ‘ladies’ addressed; Eunice, Cyntha Barnhart, Candice Wilkins, Terry Starr, and Ronda Wilkinson, all sat quietly and continued to nod.

A bell went off, uselessly.

Two coaches sauntered down the hall, uselessly.

“First, Ms. Duncan, I must ask you: how often are you MOCK MACEING?”

The Mock Mace was an approximation of the actual MACE. It was a practice test.

“We try to do one MOCK MACE per month.”

“That’s all?”

“Well, there are other activities that…”

“What activities?”

Silence.

“Do you not understand that this test takes precedence over everything else?”

“Yes, we know that, Dr. van Osdale. It’s just that…”

“Just that what?”

No answer.

“Ms. Bannister?”

“Yes, Dr. van Osdale?”

“Do you have an explanation for this?”

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”

“I’m referring to the fact that not nearly enough MOCK MACEs are being administrated. Do you know if this is true in other departments as well?”

“I have to say, I’m not sure.”

“Nina,” piped up Eunice, bravely, “has only been with us a few weeks.”

“I see. That does explain a few things.”

“And Paul––”

April van Osdale cut her off.

“—that doesn’t matter now. What Mr. Cox’s policies—or lack of policies—might have been, is irrelevant..”

She glared at everyone evenly and said:

“Our policy is now going to be weekly MOCK MACEing. Let me be very clear: if the test scores go up, good things will happen to this faculty. If not…”

Silence in the room.

A few drops of dust filtered down from air ducts in the ceiling and could be heard making a crashing noise on the carpet.

Otherwise, there was complete, utter, unbroken, endless, interminable, and unendurable, silence.

“Are there questions?”

There were no questions.

“Good. Well. So far as I’m concerned, the meeting is over.”

And it was.

Of course, everything else was only beginning. The history meeting took place, and the math meeting took place, and each went like the other, and the women teachers sat with smiles frozen on their faces and the men teachers who were not coaches (there were five of them in the school) sat with no expressions at all, and the coaches found excuses to be absent.

April van Osdale, not wanting to be subjected to fish sticks and tater tots, left shortly before lunch.

During lunch, and for most of the afternoon, Nina sat in her office and tried to console various teachers or groups of teachers who entered in panic mode:

“Who
is
she, anyway?”

“Does she really have the power to do all of these things?”

“We can’t prepare for a MOCK MACE every week!”

“We won’t have time to do anything else!”

“Can she fire me?”

“I’ve been here twenty years: can she fire me?”

Nina, knowing the answers to none of these questions, decided it would be boring simply to answer “I don’t know” to every query, and so she decided to spice up her life a bit by choosing three answers out of an answer hat and alternating them.

“Yes.”

“No.”

“I don’t know.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t know.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

And so on and so on.

Finally, there was a lull in the storm, and she had time to call Jackson Bennett.

“Jackson?”

“Nina? What’s going on? Oh, by the way, I heard about Lirpa and the fight. I think we’re going to be able to keep it quiet.”

“Good. But I’ve got to see you.”

“Can’t. Got to be at the court.”

“You have a case?”

Silence for a time. Then:

“Not in court, Nina. At court.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The girls have an afternoon game at Hatteras. Aren’t you keeping up with the schedule?”

“You’re going to a basketball game?”

“The Hattiesburg game won’t mean anything if we don’t win this one. I’m leaving the office to drive over now.”