Game Change: A Nina Bannister Mystery (The Nina Bannister Mysteries Book 3) (18 page)

Here were the tables, the desks, the ferns, the treasures, most leased from artists in the area or other shops in Bay St. Lucy, to be sold on consignment:

Handmade clay sculptures by Jennie McCardill, who first opened her business in The French Quarter in New Orleans in 1980. Pieces sculpted from white clay, hand painted and fired twice in a high temperature kiln.

And:

Six assorted white-shell boxes from Joyce’s Shells and Gifts, along with Four Cyprian Moneta Center Cut Shells.

And:

From Judy Trice at Tuesday Morning:

Hummel Keeping Time; Hummel Little Miss Mail Carrier; Hummel Chimney Sweep; Hummel Forty Winks.

And:

From Bay Breeze:

Hermann Traditional Mohair Bear; Hermann Little Starlight Mohair Bear

And:

From Denise, at M&L Gifts:

Limoges: Hinged Chef Hat; Hinged Delft Mini Duck; Swarovski Duck—Fancy Felicia

And more objects, more of the lovely things she had learned to love working around:

Pickle Casters: Meridian Basket. Pin Inverted Thumbprint.

Ruffled and Quilted Peach Bowl Art Glass Sweetmeat Server

She made her way out to the garden, where she and Margot had shared so many cups of coffee or tea, or, at the end of the day, the occasional glass of sherry.

And now Margot was to marry.

The shop would be sold.

No more mornings chatting around the cash register with someone who was paying for the latest Ramoula Peters seascape.

Nina sat at one of the tables and let her hand wurgle around in her purse until her fingers found the letter of resignation.

She took it out, held it up, and read by the pale blue light buzzing around her, the name typed on the envelope.

TO JACKSON BENNETT

Then she laid it on the table in front of her.

My God, the things that were happening.

Forty seven students labeled Special Education.

Learning Disabled.

Separate classrooms.

All of the grades entered into computer by Bay St. Lucy teachers now immediately available for access by…by whom?

Anyone with a bit of power who wanted to read them.

Forty seven students, their lives changed permanently.

So the test scores could go up.

“I can’t beat these people,” she found herself whispering. “Margot, I can’t beat these people.”

Monsters. Everywhere monsters.

“Nina, I have funds at my disposal. If these February test scores, are, say, an average of twenty-three points higher, why, that would put the school in the ‘Exemplary’ range. A great many people would be very pleased if that should happen. There would also be, I can promise you, significant bonuses all around.”

Significant bonuses.

What did that mean?

A thousand dollars for each teacher?

Ten thousand dollars?

Could she ignore that prospect?

And then there was Meg.

What in God’s name were you thinking, Nina?

“The team ate dinner here.”

Of
course
she should never have mentioned that!

What was Jackson, the smartest man in Bay St. Lucy, even thinking?

Well, he wasn’t thinking, of course.

He was doting-fathering.

But that was not the worst.

“Where
was
the coach, anyway?”

Out getting married.

“Her husband is from New Mexico?”

No, April, her husband is her wife.

She’s gay, April.

The coach of our women’s basketball team is gay.

“Margot, I can’t beat these…all these things. I’m an old woman. What am I supposed to do, Margot? I want so much to resign—but this is my town. They’re my teachers. My students. Meg and Jennifer are my friends. I can’t resign, Margot, can I? Can I, Frank?”

She waited.

Of course, Margot, being in love and thus absent, did not speak.

Her best friend was gone.

Nor did her husband speak.

For, despite all the comforting walks along the beach and all the imaginary conversations, he was gone, too.

She was alone.

CHAPTER 12: THE POINT GUARD

The following afternoon Meg Brennan was fired.

This was done carefully, and with as much sensitivity as possible.

At one fifteen PM, two Mississippi State Patrolmen entered Bay St. Lucy High School, showed their badges at the front desk, walked down the main corridor, entered the room where Meg was teaching fourth period Health and Wellness, and said:

“Ma’am, are you Ms. Brennan?”

“Yes.”

“You need to come with us.”

“Where?”

“We’re under instructions to escort you from the building, ma’am.”

“What?”

“You need to get your things together.”

It was at this point that Nina Bannister, who’d been showing one of the maintenance men a cracked window in the ladies’ restroom, came running down the hall, her face flushed, her short brown hair disheveled by the fact that she’d been running her fingers through it.

“What the hell is going on here?” she is said to have asked.

(Reports concerning all of these matters differ slightly.)

“Ma’am, I’m Patrolman Bartkowski. This is Patrolman Davis.”

“I’m very glad to know you both. Now, what the hell is going on?”

“We have instructions to escort Ms. Brennan out of the building and to her vehicle. She is to leave the campus immediately.”

At this point, the students, seven of whom were on the women’s basketball team, are said to have entered the discussion.

“Who
are
you creeps?”

“Is this a joke?”

“Are you guys from Hattiesburg or something?”

“What are you doing with our coach?”

The patrolmen, on the other hand, remained consistent in their approach:

“It would be better if you came now, Ms. Brennan. We need to go.”

“But what is going on?”

“All we know, ma’am, is that you are to leave the building immediately. It’s our job to make sure there’s no chance of an incident.”

“Nina?”

“I don’t know what’s happening, Meg.”

“Am I being arrested?”

Patrolman Bartkowski:

“No, ma’am. This is not an arrest procedure. You simply need to leave the premises. Now.”

“Says who?”

“Who are you creeps?”

“You leave our coach alone.”

Etc., etc.

“Please, officers, please! I’m Nina Bannister! I’m the principal here; I have to know what’s going on!”

“We’re simply acting on orders, ma’am.”

“But whose orders?”

“It would be best if Ms. Brennan would come with us immediately. We have to insist on that. Now, Ms. Brennan, please assemble your belongings.”

“Nina, what’s happening?”

What was in actuality happening at that point was that the hallways were filling up, both with teachers and with students, all of whom were standing and staring, open mouthed, at Room 153 where the confrontation was taking place.

Out of one of these rooms (102 to be exact), came Max Lirpa, who’d been moderating a very loud and completely chaotic discussion of the film
Inherit the Wind.

“What the bloody hell is going on here?”

“Sir, you need to step back.”

“Who the---are you?”

“Sir…”

“What are you bleedin’ Nazis gonna do if I don’t bloody choose to bloody step back?”

“Sir…”

“Max. Go back to your room.”

“Who are these damned goons, Nina?”

“Policemen. That’ all you need to know.”

“They’ve got no rights here!”

“Well, actually, they do. They’re Mississippi State Troopers. And this is Mississippi. Ergo…”

“They’re not ‘state troopers’! They’re---Nazis!”

“Sir, will you please moderate your language?”

“Who
are
you people, anyway?”

“What are you doing with our coach?”

“Are you creeps from Hattiesburg?”

“Nina, what is happening?”

“I’m going to find out, Meg.”

“Are they firing me? Am I under arrest?”

“You bleedin’ bloody pigs!”

“Sir, please step back into the corridor.”

“Make me! Come on! Make me!”

“Yeaahhhh! Go, Mr. Lirpa!”

“Max, please go back to your room.”

“The hell I will!”

“Sir, please don’t make us arrest you.”

“Try to arrest me! Just try!”

And at that time, the record of events becomes somewhat difficult to follow.

What is agreed upon by all though is that Max Lirpa, if he did not actually return to his room, at least stepped back far enough to allow the patrolmen to lead Meg Brennan away, and at least moderated his language sufficiently as to avoid being led away in handcuffs himself.

The students did pour out into the corridor, where they were joined by two hundred or so other students, who followed their coach and their principal and the law enforcement arm of their home state through and then out of their school, finally standing in a tight mass in the parking lot and bellowing:

SCREW YOU COPS! SCREW YOU COPS! SCREW YOUCOPS!

Until Meg had gotten into her van, along with Nina, and the black vehicle had inched its way through the crowd, the patrol car close behind it, the students still shouting and now beginning to throw handfuls of pea gravel.

It was in this way that an “incident” was avoided.

“What is happening, Nina?”

Meg was in tears, and hardly able to drive.

Nina thought about telling her to pull into the nearest parking lot, so that Nina herself could drive.

But Nina was frantically yelling into her cell phone with one breath and trying to pacify Meg with the next.

Both of these goals were proving difficult to accomplish, because: a) neither of the parties she’d been attempting to reach for the past mile and a half (Dr. April van Osdale and Jackson Bennett) were in their offices, and b) she had no idea how to answer Meg’s incessant question “What’s going on?” because she had no idea what was going on.

Except that she did.

Meg was obviously being fired.

Had been fired.

True, it might have been better if someone—she, Jackson, Meg,
someone––
had been informed of this fact, either orally or in writing, before a police presence had been thought necessary––but life was imperfect, and the secret of maturity lay in dealing with small setbacks with grace and as much aplomb as possible.

“Where is she? Where in God’s name is April van Osdale?”

“Ms. Bannister, Dr. van Osdale has been in Jackson all day.”

“Doing what? Doing what?”

“I don’t know.”

“There has to be a way to reach her!”

“I’ve been trying to call her on her private line; she doesn’t pick up.”

“Give me her private number!
I’ll
try to call her!”

“I’m sorry, but I’m not allowed to do that.”

“But we have an emergency here!”

“I’m sorry, but…”

Nina flipped the phone shut.

“Nina! I think I’m going crazy!”

“We both are, Meg.”

“Why did the students have to see that?”

“I don’t know.”

“I feel like a criminal!”

“Just try to take it easy; we’ll figure it out.”

“How?”

The cell phone buzzed.

“Jackson?”

“Yeah.”

“Jackson, have you heard?”

“Heard what? I’ve been huddled with a client.”

“Two patrolmen just came and escorted Meg Brennan out of the high school.”

“What?”

“Two patrolmen…”

“Okay, I heard! That’s crazy!”

“You better know it’s crazy!”

“Where’s Meg now?”

“I’m with her! We’re driving in her van.”

“Where?”

Nina looked at Meg, who was shaking her head and muttering inaudible sounds.

“Meg, where are we driving to?”

“I don’t know.”

“We don’t know.”

“You don’t know where you’re going?”

“No.”

“Then come here. Drive to my office. I’ll be waiting for you.”

They did.

He was.

Three PM signaled the beginning of rush hour in downtown Bay St Lucy. Nothing much happened in downtown Bay St. Lucy in the winter (or in the summer either, if one wanted to be scrupulously accurate), and so designations such as rush hour, mid-morning coffee break hour, early morning rush hour, and evening quiet time, did not mean very much.

But there they were, if one wanted to deal with them.

Meg and Nina parked in front of the red brick two-story building that housed Jackson’s current (and Frank’s once upon a time) law firm. They clambered out of the van and somehow got round to the sidewalk, Nina keeping her arm around Meg, who was still sobbing quietly, this being due to the fact that women are overly emotional, and sometimes react quite strongly to small events, such as losing a career and being humiliated by state troopers in front of two or three hundred of their students.

“I don’t understand this.”

“It’s all right, Meg.”

“No, Nina, it isn’t!”

And of course it wasn’t, so there remained little to say to that.

They approached the door and Nina pressed the appropriate button beside Jackson’s name. There followed an immediate ‘buzz,’ then a reassuring ‘click,’ then a strange and almost indescribable ‘quaat,’ then the door swung upon.

The stairs stared down at them.

“Come on, Meg. Let’s go up.”