Game Change: A Nina Bannister Mystery (The Nina Bannister Mysteries Book 3) (14 page)

“So many people are using the Auberge these days, Alanna.”

“Yes. Theater groups, painting classes, music students—it’s functioning exactly as we had hoped. That’s precisely why this news is so disheartening. It’s simply—well, I can’t imagine why such a decision could have been made.”

“What decision?”

“You’ll have to read for yourself, my dear. I can’t seem to talk about it. I begin to stammer. Then there is a temptation to fall into profanity, which, as you know, is never warranted.”

Nina knew no such thing, but she had learned dirty words so late in life, and their use so ill-suited her saccharine personality, that she avoided using them for fear of making people break into laughter.

“Come. This way, down the hall. The letter is in the original music room of the mansion. Actually, it’s my favorite room. I’ve left the old instruments, and the pictures, just as they were; but I’ve transformed what space is left into my own special study.”

“You like living here?”

“Very much.”

“Isn’t it a little spooky?”

“Not at all. To me, bungalows and house trailers are spooky.”

“Well. I suppose you may have a point there.”

“Of course, I do, darling.”

“It’s just that this place is based on money made by criminals.”

“I believe that can be said about all art.”

Why did she ever try to converse with Alanna?

She would give it up in the future, and confine her utterances to grunts of slight pain and yowls of delight.

“Here we are. Come in, Nina.”

Nina could see the yellow glow emanating from inside before she could see the room itself.

“Oh my!”

“Yes. Isn’t it wonderful?”

And it was.

The first thing to catch one’s eye was a harp, golden, shaped like angels’ wings, standing exactly in the center of the room, forming the sun around which various planets—grand piano, smaller spinet piano, violins mounted on walls, pictures of opera houses and composers—had been frozen in their rotation and now stood ready for some final concert which would probably never come.

The two women entered and padded like cats, their shoes scuffing on a worn hardwood floor, their hands not daring to touch the instruments, their mouths turned respectfully away, for fear of careless breaths clouding enamel and gold finishes.

“The original music room of The Robinson Mansion.”

“It’s incredible.”

“Yes. Yes, it is. But here is the most wonderful part. Over here, on this stand. Come, come this way.”

Nina followed and found herself led to a phonograph, its great curved bell yawning out over the rest of the room like some giant sea shell out of which one might hear the roar of breakers, the comings and goings of the tide. It sat regally on a square oaken box, which, like a desk upended, seemed to have been made specifically to support it.

“When I was a young girl,” she whispered to the center of the record, where a dog was listening to a replica of the phonograph that now sat staring down at them—“A wealthy friend took me from New Iberia to New Orleans to hear my first opera. Oh, how I remember it!—I could only gawk at the massive balconies, the people in their evening clothes, the quiet talk between acts mixed with the clinking of champagne glasses—all such things

“Just last week, Emil Reittinger, Director of the Mississippi State Opera Ensemble—they’re based in Vicksburg—came here to talk to six of our music students. He was marvelous. He played several recordings on this old, wonderful
 
Victrola, then talked about the lives of Caruso, Gobi, and others. The students were enchanted.”

“I remember,” Nina said, quietly, “when the bus brought them back to the high school. They were almost in tears.”

“So was I, darling. It was unforgettable. We paid Emil Reittinger—the great Emil Reittinger—one hundred dollars. One hundred. Now. Look at this letter.”

She pulled a sheet of paper out of a cavernous pocket.

Nina took it.

It was carefully embossed, official in its appearance, dirty to the touch, and evil in intent.

“Dear Ms. Delafosse,” it began.

“It has come to my attention that several sums of money have been dispersed, over the past three months, to both you and to an institution known as Auberge des Arts. While I am quite certain that your intent in utilizing these sums has been constructive, you must realize that they have been made available without prior authorization and are, consequently, to be viewed as in no way other than illicit, and highly objectionable. It is the intent of the school system of Bay St. Lucy to provide for its students a broad range of cultural and scientific opportunities, and, toward this end, we seek to identify and utilize all resources within our purview; still, in light of ever shrinking budgetary parameters and ever growing demands for precious classroom time, I cannot allow the continuance of activities which are simultaneously unsanctioned, unscrutinized by official channels, and irrelevant to clearly-stated classroom goals and objectives.”

“In short, these dispersals of funding shall cease and desist immediately, and all future projects potentially involving them are to be summarily cancelled.”

“Again, I appreciate your efforts to be a part of our ongoing mandate of community excellence; I cannot though refrain from adding my astonishment that such activities have been allowed to escape proper administrative supervision.”

My Regards,

Dr. April van Osdale

“The bitch,” said Nina, quietly.

Alanna did not laugh.

Perhaps Nina was learning to use profanity after all.

CHAPTER 9: SECOND MEETING

“It’s better to build a tight chicken coop than a shoddy courthouse.”

––
William Faulkner
,
As I Lay Dying

The following morning—Friday—Nina arrived early at school only to be told she was expected later on at city hall.

She had been summoned by April van Osdale.

Oh God.

But there was nothing for it. She had to go.

She delegated a few duties, then took the school van downtown.

At nine thirty, she parked and walked up to the building.

A receptionist met her at the door.

“Ma’am?”

“I’m Nina Bannister. I believe Dr. van Osdale wants to see me?”

“If you’ll wait, I’ll see if she’s available.”

“Thank you.”

The receptionist left and disappeared into the bowels of the building, while, behind various desks, people came and went and whispered and laughed and took things out of printers and stared at computer screens.

Two minutes passed.

“Ms. Bannister?”

“Yes?”

“Dr. van Osdale can see you now.”

“Thank you.”

She followed the woman, who, every few steps, looked around to be sure that she had not gotten lost.

April van Osdale’s office was situated in the back of a massive room, and had been cordoned off by several massive green curtains.

She appeared through a crack in these curtains, much as though she were taking a bow after a theatrical performance.

“Nina!”

“Dr. van Osdale.”

“April! You must call me April. Thank you so much for coming! I know you have millions of things to do!”

“It was no problem.”

“Come in, come in. Everything is a shambles. We’ve got packets of mock tests coming in from Jackson. Over there on that desk are the math tests. There, on the one beyond it, English exams. They’re exactly the same in format as the real ones will be. We’re taking the real examinations on February 16, you know.”

“Yes. All the teachers have that date circled on their calendars.”

“Here. Sit down.”

Nina did so.

April van Osdale said:

“I wanted you to know how much I enjoyed my time at the high school yesterday.”

“That’s good. We enjoyed having you.”

“Do you think the meetings went well?”

“Oh, yes. The faculty were very impressed.”

“I’m so glad! I want them to be inspired and not overwhelmed. There’s so much that can be done to help get these scores up; we just have to focus, focus, focus.”

“I understand.”

“Simply to disseminate the information we’ve already gleaned about test taking, will be a major help. It’s been shown, for example, that students who have no idea what a correct answer to a particular question is, will have a better chance of getting it right by choosing “C” over any of the other choices.”

“You’re joking.”

“No. It’s been proven. Not just on the MACE exam but on various others that have been given around the country.”

“That’s astonishing. You mean, no matter what the subject matter might be?”

“No matter. Math, English, History—always choose “C” when in doubt. Have our teachers been letting the kiddoes know that?”

“I don’t think so. I wasn’t aware of it.”

“Well, you’ve been ‘out of the loop,’ for a while, so to speak.”

“I have. I truly have.”

“Don’t worry about it; we’re going to get you current as soon as possible. Now, though, as I told you, I’m very glad you were able to free some time to come by this morning.”

Did I have a choice?
wondered Nina.

No.

But don’t let yourself be intimidated, Nina.

Go on the offensive
.

“April, I got a call last evening from Alanna Delafosse.”

April’s expression withered.

The uncertain glory
, Nina found herself thinking,
of an April day.

“Alanna had received your letter. She’s…well, she’s upset.”

“I see.”

The wind had changed.

The words ‘I see’ drifted across the desk in temperatures significantly cooler than the previous half minute had seen.

Nina bent forward, shivered slightly, and proceeded.

“A number of artists had come to the Auberge. The program seemed a success.”

“Nina, did you know about these visits?”

“Not originally. I wasn’t a part of the planning process. But I did learn about them last week.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“They seemed a good idea.”

“To send students off-campus, halfway across town—during class time?”

“They were meeting professional artists. Painters, writers…”

“And these people were being paid by public school funds?”

“Yes, from what I understand.”

“From what I understand, too. Nina, such a thing is simply intolerable.”

“The sums were quite small.”

“It doesn’t matter. Small, large—money is money, and the school doesn’t have an infinite amount of it.”

“No. That’s true, of course.”

“The point is, we have no time for artsy-fartsy.”

“For what?”

“For artsy-fartsy. We have serious work to do and we can’t be bussing our students halfway across the state to subject them to Greek opera.”

Nina said nothing.

“But I also made it clear that in the future all dispersals of funds, as well as all decisions on curricular matters and the use of time meant to be spent in classrooms, would be made by proper authorities.”

You
, thought Nina.

“I understand,” said Nina.

April continued:

“I’m glad we’re clear on this, then. Now. There was another matter. The actual reason that I asked you to come. I wanted to make a––well, a ‘social suggestion,’ if I may call it that. I hope you won’t take it amiss.”

“I’m sure I won’t.”

“I’ve been able to make several good friends in the short time I’ve been in Bay St. Lucy.”

“I’m glad to hear that. We’re a friendly town.”

“Yes, you are. Do you know Bill Kreisler?”

“I know of him. He’s involved in real estate.”

‘Yes, he is. He’s made a lovely home available for me. It’s over in the Berkshire section of town, on Fairway Drive.”

“Yes, I know that area. It’s very nice.”

“Oh, I love it. Nice sidewalks, tree-lined driveways.”

“And a golf course.”

“Yes. In fact, my home overlooks one of the greens. It’s very pleasant. But at any rate…”

What’s coming here?

Was April van Osdale inviting Nina over to play golf?

Probably not.

Then what?

“Well, the long and short of it is that Bill has a couple of nice condos—also overlooking the golf course, I might add—that are currently available. The question is, would you consider moving into one of them?”

“Would I what?”

“Like to live in a new condo. I haven’t seen them, but they’re supposed to be fantastic.”

“I have a place, April.”

April sighed.

“I know, Nina, but…”

April sighed again.

“It isn’t really appropriate, is it?”

“It isn’t what?”

“Appropriate. For the position you find yourself in at the present.”

“What do you mean?”

“You are a principal, Nina.”

“So?”

“You’re living in a shack. This would be fine for a beach bum…”

“It’s been fine for me. And for Furl.”

‘Oh, is Furl your cat?”

“Yes.”

“What an adorable name!”

“Thank you. Furl and I like it.”

“I’m sure you do, but, back to the main issue…your husband died some years ago, I hear.”

“Seven years ago.”

“I’m not sure what your financial situation is.”

“I have a little money. Not much. The firm didn’t do too well in Frank’s last years. He was ill for a while. That cost money.”

“Of course, it did. And now you’ve been living only on teacher retirement.”

“Yes.”

“So you’ve not been able to afford anything much better than where you are now. That’s understandable But your salary is going to increase, Nina. And, as I told the teachers at the high school yesterday, I’m going to have some discretionary funding available to dispose of as I see fit.”

“Bonuses.”

“Yes, bonuses. The bottom line is, we can afford to upgrade your—well, your living standard.”

“My living standard.”

“I suppose that’s the best way to put it. You’re going to want to entertain, Nina. That’s what people in your position do.”

“You mean parties and such.”

“Of course. There are various people in town who—well, who don’t really know you very well.”

They don’t hang out
, Nina found herself thinking,
with curio shop owners. Or beach bums.

They hang out on golf courses.

“I guess I have been rather limited in my social contacts.”

“And that’s completely understandable! It really is!”

It’s really understandable because I hate those people.