Melanie Travis 06 - Hush Puppy (18 page)

Alice is an angel of mercy. I took her up on her offer before the words were even out of her mouth.

Though it was barely dusk, I fed Faith her dinner and fell into bed, exhausted. Sleep claimed me like a black void. I was half-afraid I’d dream of smoke and fire and pools of blood, but I was wrong.

I slept like the dead and dreamed of nothing at all.

I woke up Saturday morning with an aching wrist, a groggy head, and a dog who needed desperately to pee. At least one of the three was easy to fix.

Eugene Krebbs’s memorial service was scheduled for eleven o’clock. By ten-thirty, after several cups of strong, black coffee, a long walk around the neighborhood with Faith, and a cold, bracing shower, I found myself struggling to pull on panty hose one-handed.

Until that moment, I hadn’t been sure I was going to attend. Krebbs had been, at most, an acquaintance. To be honest, his death wouldn’t have made much of an impression on me if the fact that he’d been murdered didn’t keep intruding on my otherwise peaceful life.

Now, however, I was curious to see who else would put in an appearance. It also wouldn’t hurt to show myself, bandage and all, and see if that elicited any shifty looks among the assemblage. Besides, if I stayed home that would only give me more time to worry about the upcoming luncheon with Peg and Sheila Vaughn.

All in all, I was better off keeping busy.

Since I planned to go straight from the service to Aunt Peg’s, I took Faith with me. The March weather was suitably cool, and I cracked the windows in the Volvo and left her lying on the backseat, chewing on a new pig’s ear. Earlier, I’d brushed through her mane coat and tried some artful draping to hide the hole near her neck. It didn’t do any good. Barring an unexpected miracle, Faith was going to be out of the show ring for at least several months.

The chapel was a small building, seldom used, and joined by a covered walkway to the far end of the original stone mansion. Neither Joshua nor Honoria had been deeply religious, and Howard Academy was nondenominational. I imagined that the chapel’s original purpose must have been to serve as a refuge, or place of solace, rather than a house of prayer.

The one room was octagonal in shape. Stained-glass windows, depicting patterns of color rather than religious figures, adorned three walls. The pews were few in number, and when I walked through the door, most everyone I saw was standing. It looked as though the majority of the Howard Academy faculty had decided to attend. Since I doubted most of them had known Krebbs any better than I had, I could only assume that they’d all taken Russell’s speech about family to heart.

The headmaster stood up at the lectern first. He thanked everyone for coming, then spoke about Eugene Krebbs’s tenure at Howard Academy and the contribution the caretaker had made to the school. His eulogy was short on substance and heavy on hyperbole. After the first minute or two, I let my gaze drift around the room.

Michael Durant was there, looking bored. Obviously only his sense of obligation had brought him back to school on a Saturday morning. Ed Weinstein and Rita Kinney were seated in one of the pews with several other middle-school teachers.

Sally was standing off by herself. Her eyes were dry, and her expression, stony. I wondered if she’d heard about Krebbs’s will yet, and resolved to ask her about it when the service was over.

Detective Shertz arrived late and stood in the back of the room. He, too, let his gaze wander around the assembly of mourners. When our eyes met, I deliberately shifted mine away.

When Russell was finished, several of the older teachers stood up and talked about Krebbs as well. Though Sally had been at Howard Academy as long as any of them, she didn’t make a contribution. As soon as the last speaker finished, she bolted for the door.

Quickly, I jumped up and followed. Toward the back of the room, I glimpsed a flash of unexpected color: Jane, dressed in her customary blue jeans and sweatshirt. She glared at me defiantly, as if daring me to contest her right to be there. First things, first.

“Sally, wait!”

Her steps slowed, then stopped. Refreshments were going to be served in the dining room, but Sally was headed in the other direction. Her eyes flickered down to the bandage on my wrist, then quickly away.

“I heard you had some excitement yesterday,” she said. “How are you feeling?”

“Not great,” I admitted. “Faith and I were lucky to get out in time.”

“So I heard. Everyone’s talking about it. Is it true somebody set the fire on purpose?”

“Apparently so.”

Sally shook her head. “Is that crazy, or what? Two weeks ago, I’d have told you this school was just about the safest place on earth. The older I get, the more I realize the world is a strange and scary place.”

Just another cheery thought with which to face the day.

“I wanted to ask you about something,” I said. “Two things, actually.”

Sally looked at her watch. I wondered where she was in such a hurry to get to.

“Last time we spoke, you seemed pretty sure Krebbs wouldn’t have anything to do with bringing drugs on campus.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Nothing stays quiet around here for long. I assume you’ve heard that the police found half a pound of marijuana in the cottage.”

“That doesn’t prove anything.”

“No, but it sure doesn’t lay any suspicions to rest, either. And there’s something else.”

She rolled her eyes heavenward. “Why wouldn’t there be? Ever since this whole mess got started, it’s been one damn thing after another. Now what?”

“Have you heard about Krebbs’s will?”

“No.” Sally’s tone was cautious. “What about it?”

“He left behind a pretty sizable estate. Half is supposed to come to the school. The other half goes to a distant cousin by the name of Sarah Fingerhut, on the condition that she come forward to claim the money and acknowledge their relationship.”

Sally was frowning. She didn’t say a word.

“Does the name ring a bell?”

“Of course,” she snapped. “Fingerhut is my maiden name. I imagine that doesn’t surprise you.”

No, it didn’t. But what did surprise me was the way Sally seemed to be taking the news in stride. Though she’d professed not to have heard about Krebbs’s bequests, I had the distinct impression that she not only already knew about her cousin’s will, but she’d also decided what her response was going to be.

“So now what?” I asked.

“As if I have a choice,” Sally muttered.

“Don’t you?”

“Not anymore. I’m fifty-three years old, and I’ve spent my entire life working in a profession I love that pays me a fraction of what I’m worth. I’m not stupid. I’ve lived frugally and put money aside. I was the kind of person who thought she was never going to have to depend on anybody for anything, you know what I mean?”

I nodded.

“Six years ago my mother developed Alzheimer’s. Three years ago I had to put her in a nursing home. Her health insurance doesn’t begin to cover the costs. I’m her only child. If I don’t take care of her, no one will. So I do.”

Sally sighed. “Don’t get me wrong. The only sense in which this is a burden is financially. I’m to the point now where if I found a wallet on the street, I’d probably keep it. Of course, I’ll take Krebbs’s money. I’d take the devil’s money if he offered it to me.”

“I’m sorry,” I said softly.

“It’s not your fault. It’s just the way things are.” Sally spun around and walked away.

In a week when both a stash of drugs and a dead body had been found at the school, you had to wonder about a woman who’d said she deal with the devil if the price was right.

 

When I got to the Howard Academy dining room, the first person I saw was Jane. Standing near the buffet table, she was holding a glass of milk in one hand and a plate of finger sandwiches in the other. She was hesitating at the end of the table, gazing with naked longing at a tray filled with pastries and wishing, no doubt, for a third hand.

“Need some help?” I asked, walking over.

“No.” Her tone was sullen. “Why would I need any help?”

“I was thinking maybe you’d like an eclair or two to go with your sandwiches.”

“I figured I’d come back later. But you never know, they might be gone, so as long as you’re offering . . .”

I picked up an empty plate and selected several pastries from the tray. As I walked back to Jane, I noticed several people staring at the girl. For one thing, she was the only child in the room. For another, her attire was entirely inappropriate for the occasion.

But if Jane was aware of the attention she was receiving, she didn’t seem to care. By the time I got back to her, she’d already found a seat and polished off several sandwiches. She was licking her fingers when I sat down beside her.

“You’re not supposed to inhale those,” I said, handing her a napkin.

She placed the linen square on her lap, but didn’t look as though she planned to find much use for it. “They’re too small. Barely more than a bite apiece.”

“They’re delicate. You’re supposed to nibble at them delicately.”

“Nibbling is for gerbils.” Jane wolfed down another sandwich.

“And proper ladies.”

“No wonder it didn’t occur to me.”

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” I said.

“Why not? I heard Mr. Hanover say that everyone was welcome to come. So I came.”

The girl certainly got around. I wondered how many other tidbits of information she’d overheard while skulking around the school. “It’s just that I didn’t get the impression that you and Krebbs were friends.”

“So what? Nobody said that was a requirement. And the food around here is pretty good.”

“Mind if I join you?”

I looked up and saw Michael hovering above us, plate in hand.

“Not at all.” I pushed back the chair beside me, and made the introductions.

“I know who you are,” Michael said, eyeing Jane curiously. “You’re the girl who found . . .” Abruptly his voice died.

“Krebbs, yeah.” Jane finished for him. “That was me.”

“That must have been awful for you.”

“Must have been.” Jane’s snotty tone was back. I wondered if that was a response to adults in general, or to Michael in particular. As far as I knew, the two of them had never met.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” Michael leaned toward Jane, trying valiantly to connect with the girl. I knew where he was coming from; it’s a teacher thing. “Finding a dead body would be a traumatic experience for anyone, let alone someone your age—”

“Here’s something really traumatic,” Jane said, shoving back her chair. “Krebbs wasn’t dead when I got there, so I got to see him die. I’m going to go get some more food.” She picked up her plate and left.

I glanced over at Michael. He looked pale. “Sorry about that,” I said.

“She’s a tough little cookie, isn’t she?”

“She thinks she is, anyway. Jane’s had a rough life, spent part of it living on the streets with her mother. Now her grandmother’s supposed to be taking care of her, but she seems to come and go as she pleases.”

“It’s a real shame.” Michael sighed. His plate was empty, and he pushed it aside. “I need a cup of coffee. You want some?”

“No, I’m fine.”

After he left, Jane returned. She’d filled a plate with a second helping of dessert and looked as though she could probably handle a third. “How come you’re not eating anything?” she asked as she sat back down.

“I’m going from here to a luncheon.”

“Well la-di-da.” Jane grinned. “That sounds pretty fancy. You’d better stock up here. They’re probably serving these stupid little sandwiches.”

“Not this luncheon. My Aunt Peg’s the hostess, and she can put away food like a longshoreman. That’s why I’m saving my appetite.”

“Is she the one with all the dogs?”

“The very same.”

“Wow. Can I come with you? You said I could meet her sometime.”

I thought for a moment. Ever since Aunt Peg had announced her intention to get me and Sheila together, I’d been dreading this meeting. Having Jane along might provide just the sort of distraction I needed.

“Two conditions,” I said.

“Let’s hear them.”

“You’ll have to ride in the backseat with Faith, and she’ll probably climb into your lap.”

“Okay.” Jane said eagerly. “What else?”

“We stop by your house first and make sure this is okay with your grandmother.”

Her face fell. “She won’t care, honest. She won’t even miss me. As long as I show up at home later, she’ll never even know I was gone.”

“Sorry,” I said. “That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”

“I guess I’ll take it.” Jane didn’t look happy.

“Great. I’m ready to go, how about you?”

“Just give me a sec.” She leapt up and headed back toward the buffet table. “I need one more eclair for the road.”

As I’d predicted, Faith immediately decided that Jane’s lap made the perfect pillow on which to drape the front half of her body. For her part, Jane didn’t look as though she minded a bit. As we turned out the gate at the foot of the driveway, she gave me directions to her grandmother’s house.

Two turns took us into a quiet residential neighborhood within walking distance of downtown Greenwich. The houses were post-World War II vintage, and the plots of land they sat upon were tiny. New, they’d probably cost twenty thousand dollars; now, thanks to the desirability of Greenwich real estate, they were worth twenty times that.

A one-way street took us down a hill before we were able to double back. Completing the maneuver, I realized that the same car had been behind us virtually since we’d left the school. It was a dark Acura Legend, the kind of pricey, yet understated car that I think of as the typical Greenwich sedan. It was far enough behind us that I couldn’t see the driver.

“There!” said Jane, directing me to a small, white clapboard Cape. Unlike most of its neighbors, the house didn’t boast any recent renovations, but the yard was neat, and the porch looked freshly swept.

I glanced in the rearview mirror again. The Acura was gone. I pulled in along the curb and rolled the windows down for Faith.