Hopscotch Homicide (Zoe Donovan Mystery Book 16) (10 page)

I ran toward the connecting door.

“Something’s wrong. The mama was nursing and everything seemed fine, but she started to pant and whine.”

I hurried over to the box and ran my hands over the mama cat’s stomach. “It looks like she has one more, and I think she’s struggling. Tell Ellie to get a blanket.”

Alex ran and did as I asked. I moved the kittens that had already been born to the blanket and then ran my hand over the mom’s belly. There was definitely another baby stuck in the birth canal.

“I’m going to reach inside to see if I can help the kitten out. I need the two of you to hold the mom. Be careful that she doesn’t bite or scratch you.”

Alex held the front legs while Ellie helped with the back. Mom wasn’t thrilled with my interference, but I was pretty sure she and the kitten would both die if I couldn’t work it out. I took my time and slowly eased the baby from the mom’s body. I freed it from the birth sac and gently massaged it to stimulate breathing.

“Is it alive?” Alex was crying.

“Yeah,” I assure her. “It’s alive.”

I cleared the placenta and made sure Mom was okay. She seemed to be, but I planned to call Scott Walden, our veterinarian, just to be safe. I replaced the towels in the birthing box with clean ones and returned the kittens to their anxious mom.

Ellie, Alex, and I watched as Mom settled in for a nap with her babies safely beside her.

“I can’t believe you knew how to do that,” Alex said as she settled in to watch the cat family nod off to sleep. “It was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Part of my job is helping mama animals deliver their offspring if they need assistance. Most animals do fine on their own.”

“Maybe I
will
be a veterinarian.”

I hugged the small and fragile yet exceptionally brilliant little girl. “Sweetheart, I think you can be anything you set your mind to.”

“Remember, it’s important to show Miss Maxwell your best manners,” I said to Scooter as I drove him to school on his first day of fifth grade. He was my third delivery of the morning. I’d dropped Pi at the high school at eight and Alex at the middle school at eight thirty. Scooter began classes at nine.

“And don’t forget that the other kids in the class are trying to listen to what the teacher has to say, so no talking out of turn,” I reminded the boy, who was dressed in brand-new jeans, a T-shirt, and tennis shoes.

“I know all this,” Scooter complained. “You’ve gone over all the rules a million times.”

“Maybe not a million,” I defended myself.

“Yes, a million. Next you’ll tell me not to play tricks on either the other students or the teachers, and then you’ll tell me a quiet body leads to an active mind, and finally you’ll remind me that we really need this to work out so I can continue to live with you and Zak.”

I sighed. “Okay, maybe I have gone over this a million times.” I pulled into the parking lot. “It’s just that I like having you living with us. Zak and I would both be sad if it didn’t work out and you had to go back to boarding school.”

Scooter grinned. He leaned over and hugged me. “I like living with you and Zak too. I’ll be good. I promise.”

“I know you will.” I leaned back and brushed Scooter’s bangs out of his eyes. He needed a haircut, but he absolutely refused to even consider it. I unbuckled my seat belt and Scooter did the same.

“Do you have the pencil box I bought for you?”

“Yes,” Scooter assured me.

“And the binder with extra paper?”

“Yes, even though the school probably has paper you can use.”

“I know. I just didn’t want you to run out. Do you have the extra erasers I picked up at the five and dime last night? You can never have too many erasers.”

“I have plenty of everything,” Scooter assured me.

“Okay. Here’s your sack lunch. I’m not sure if they’ve replaced the lunch lady yet, but just in case they have and you prefer hot lunch here’s five dollars as well.”

Scooter took the money and the paper bag from me.

“Did you fuss this much with Pi and Alex?” Scooter asked.

“No,” I admitted.

“I’m not a baby.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Do you want me to walk you in?”

“No,” Scooter said firmly. “I’m old enough to walk in by myself.”

“I know.”

I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. He immediately wiped it off.

“Have a good day, and I’ll be here to get you at three. We have soccer today, so don’t dawdle.”

Scooter opened the passenger door and slid out. “I never dawdle. What’s dawdle?”

“It just means come out to the truck quickly. Don’t stop to talk to your friends. We don’t want to be late for the last practice before your soccer game on Thursday.”

“Okay. I won’t dawdle.” Scooter slammed the door closed. “And don’t forget to bring my cleats,” he called to me as he jogged into the front door of the elementary school.

I looked at my watch. It was only eight fifty-five. The events committee meeting didn’t begin until nine thirty. Maybe I’d just sneak in, real quietlike, and take a peek, just to be sure Scooter had found the right room and had settled in with no problem. He was the same age as Alex, but he seemed so much younger. Alex was sophisticated and organized. She was more capable than I was in many ways, while Scooter didn’t seem to have as much control over his actions as he should. He reminded me of an energetic puppy who destroyed everything in its path while trying to maneuver his way through the most simple of tasks. I couldn’t help but worry.

I promised Charlie I’d only be a minute as I slid out of the driver’s side door and locked the truck behind me. If I was stealthy enough Scooter would never know I was there. I did notice as I snuck in through a side door that other than for the kindergarteners, most parents were simply pulling up and dropping off their children and then pulling away. Maybe I was being overly cautious. Still, as long as I was in the building …

I walked close to the wall, where I hoped I wouldn’t be noticed among the throng of five- to eleven-year-olds. It was a good thing I was short; I could practically blend in.

“Can I help you?”

I stopped and turned around.

“Principal Bower. What are you doing here?” I asked as innocently as I could manage.

“I work here. What are
you
doing here?”

“I just wanted to make sure Scooter found his classroom all right.”

Principal Bower looked around. “Where’s Scooter?”

“He went on ahead,” I admitted.

“Scooter will be fine. He’s in the fifth grade and he attended this school before. A word of advice: most fifth graders don’t appreciate having their parent or parent surrogate lurking about.”

“I know.” I sighed. “I guess I’m just nervous. It’s important that things go perfectly.”

“Things never go perfectly,” Principal Bower reminded me. “If Scooter gets through the day without causing anyone tears I’ll be happy.”

“Scooter knows the rules and he promised to be good. I’m sure things will be fine,” I reassured him.

“I hope so. Can I escort you out?”

“I know the way,” I grumbled as I turned and headed back toward the parking lot.

After exiting the building it occurred to me that now might be a good time to check out the side entrance, reserved for kitchen and maintenance personnel, which Mrs. Brown had used on the day she was killed. Mr. Bower had said he hadn’t seen her, but I seemed to remember that the parking area off the kitchen was visible from the front window in the administration building. If Mrs. Brown’s car had been parked in the kitchen lot wouldn’t Principal Bower and his secretary have noticed it?

When I arrived at the side lot I realized that while most of the lot was visible from the admin building, the spot closest to the Dumpster was set far enough back so as not to be easily visible from the front of the school. I made a mental note to ask Salinger about the location of Mrs. Brown’s car before letting myself in through the kitchen door, which just happened to be open.

The first thing I noticed was that something smelled wonderful. It smelled more like a bakery than a school cafeteria.

“Can I help you?” a woman who was as plump as Mrs. Brown had been thin and was dressed in a white apron and a hairnet asked.

“Are you the new cook?” I wondered.

“I am. My name is Tammy. And you are?”

“Zoe. I wasn’t expecting that Mr. Bower would have been able to replace Mrs. Brown so soon. It’s only been a week.”

“Mr. Bower hired me over a month ago. I don’t know all the details, but apparently, the woman who used to have this job wasn’t working out. Mr. Bower had to fire her, I’m afraid.”

“Fire her? But she was just here last week.”

The woman shrugged. “All I can tell you is that I was hired a month ago and have spent the last three weeks making up menus and ordering supplies.”

I looked around the room. It seemed to be well stocked and organized. As if someone had taken her time and not just stocked it at the last minute. It even looked like, in addition to the new freezer, which had already been mentioned to me, most of the other equipment was new as well.

“Something smells good,” I commented as I casually opened a drawer that held knives and other utensils.

“I’m baking rolls to go with the baked ziti I have planned for lunch. Are you looking for something?”

“No.” I closed the drawer. “I just noticed you have a lot of new stuff since the last time I was here.”

“The kitchen was quite dated. One of my requirements for accepting the job was that the equipment be updated.”

“Good for you, getting what you needed up-front. It really does smell wonderful in here. Did you make the biscuits from scratch?”

“I did.”

“I love homemade biscuits, but I hate rolling them out.”

“I have an industrial dough roller. I only need to feed the dough through and it’s ready to cut.”

“So you don’t need to use an old-fashioned rolling pin?” I hoped I wasn’t being too obvious.

“No. That would take forever.”

“So you don’t even have a rolling pin?”

“Why would I? I just told you, I use an industrial roller.”

I picked up a large white bowl and pretended to study it, as if to look unconcerned about the kitchen’s lack of the very instrument the sheriff and I believed had killed Mrs. Brown.

“Is the industrial roller new?” I asked.

“No. I understand it’s been here for several years. Why all the interest in rolling dough?”

I shrugged. “Just curious. It’s really amazing how you can make so much food for so many people in such a short amount of time.”

The woman frowned at me. I could see she was becoming suspicious of my questions.

“So what are you serving with the baked ziti and rolls?” I asked, attempting to stall while I continued to look around the room.

“A broccoli and strawberry salad.”

“Sounds delicious. A lot better than the slop I was served as a child.”

“Nutritional standards are much more rigid these days. A packet of ketchup is no longer considered a vegetable.”

“And fruit-flavored gummy bears aren’t a fruit?” I teased.

The woman looked appalled. “Hardly.”

“If you were hired a month ago, were you here last week on Wednesday?” I asked.

“No. Principal Bower informed me that the woman who used to work here had arranged to use the kitchen for a community event. I thought it would be awkward if I were here at the same time, so I went to visit my sister in Bryton Lake.”

So Principal Bower had known Mrs. Brown was here. What possible reason would he have had for lying to both me and Sheriff Salinger? Unless he was the killer.

“I imagine you’ve heard what happened to Mrs. Brown last Wednesday.”

“I have.”

I frowned. The woman seemed completely unaffected by the fact that the woman she had replaced had been killed just a week ago while working in this very kitchen.

“Aren’t you concerned that if you had been here on Wednesday it could have been you who met the heavy end of a rolling pin?”

“Principal Bower assured me the murder was a personal assault on Mrs. Brown and not a crime of opportunity. It’s been nice meeting you, but I really need to get back to what I was doing.”

The woman crossed the room and opened the door, leaving no doubt as to her intention to boot me from the building.

“It was nice meeting you as well,” I offered before exiting the building and returning to my truck, where Charlie had been waiting patiently.

“Something smells fishy,” I said to him as soon as I climbed back into the truck. “Not literally; the kitchen actually smells wonderful. But there’s something odd going on; I’m certain of it.”

Charlie put his paw on my leg.

“Principal Bower fired Mrs. Brown and hired a new lunch lady a month ago,” I began. “And he told Salinger and me that he hadn’t been aware that Mrs. Brown was on campus the day she died. The new lunch lady just told me that she went to visit her sister that day because the principal had warned her that Mrs. Brown was going to be using the kitchen. Thanks to Yolanda Snyder, I now know she was preparing food for the Boy Scout dinner.”

I looked down at Charlie, who was listening intently.

“Why would Principal Bower lie about knowing Mrs. Brown was in the kitchen? And more importantly, after all this time, why would he fire her? He put his job and his reputation on the line a whole lot of times over the years defending her. Why let her go now?”

Charlie barked.

“You know this makes him look guilty. I need to call Salinger.”

Charlie whined.

“Yeah, you’re right. He’s going to want more. I need to figure out what happened between Mrs. Brown and Principal Bower to create the situation in which he fired her in the first place. It happened over the summer, so I doubt it was due to a parental complaint or a conflict with another staff member. It almost seems like it must have been personal.”

I bit my lip as I considered everything I had learned to this point. I could hear the clock ticking on the truck’s dashboard as I tried to connect all the dots before it was time to head over to the events committee meeting, which was due to begin in just ten minutes. I’d skip it, but I’d probably be nominated to head up Hometown Christmas in addition to Haunted Hamlet if I wasn’t there to protect myself. There had to have been some variable that made all the difference.

“The baby,” I realized. “Principal Bower had a baby over the summer. Trudy Blacksmith moved across town because Mrs. Brown had become obsessed with her baby. If Mrs. Brown was obsessed with a neighbor’s baby, just think how obsessed she’d be with the baby of a man she’d been obsessed with since he was four. That has to be it.”

Charlie barked his agreement.