Melanie Travis 06 - Hush Puppy (23 page)

Shawna scowled at my lack of comprehension. “It wasn’t the kitchen, it was the stairs. You can get down to the basement from here. You can get up to the second floor, too.”

As far as I knew, the second floor contained only a few administrative offices and some storerooms. I’d never had occasion to venture up there, but I knew perfectly well that there was a wide staircase in the front hall and I said as much.

“A place this size, you don’t think it has back stairs?” Shawna scoffed. “Front stairs are for people who want to be seen, back stairs are for people who don’t. That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Who else have you seen using the back stairs? The girl, Jane?”

“She’s another one. Upstairs, downstairs. She’s been all over the place. We keep some extra supplies down in the basement, so when I go down, I got a reason. But that don’t tell me what everyone else is up to.”

“Who else?” I pressed.

“That new teacher, the drama guy. He’s another one who’s been poking around like he thinks he’s got a right.”

“Michael Durant?”

“That’s the one. Half the time, he don’t even care if I see. He looks right through me like I don’t even exist.”

“Do you think he’s looking for something?”

“How should I know?” Shawna sounded angry. “Man can’t see me, I think maybe it’s just as well if I can’t see him.”

Krebbs, Jane, and Michael. Apparently, Shawna had noticed all of them behaving in ways she found suspicious. But so what? Nothing she’d told me so far was enough to send Bobbi running from the room. There had to be something more.

“Who else?” I asked.

“Isn’t that enough?” Shawna shrugged. I didn’t need my teacher’s skills to know she was being evasive.

“Not if you’ve got more names to give me.”

She drew in a deep breath. “I guess there’s another guy. I don’t know his name. He wears those stupid tweed jackets with elbow patches. He heads up there to have a smoke. Like nobody can smell what he’s up to.”

Ed Weinstein. It had to be.

“Sometimes he isn’t alone.” She paused, waiting to see if I’d grasped her meaning.

I hadn’t. “So?”

“So he meets somebody up there, sometimes. And maybe they do a little business together.”

“Business?” I thought quickly. “Are you talking about Brad, that kid from town? Is that who Ed meets?”

Shawna glanced around the room, satisfied herself that we were alone, then nodded warily.

“Is that everybody?”

Shawna was squirming again. She’d already blown the whistle on Ed and Brad. What could possibly be left to make her nervous?

“Shawna?”

“You promised me I wouldn’t get into trouble,” she reminded me.

“You won’t,” I said firmly. “A man has been murdered. This is important, Shawna. You have to tell me what you know.”

She sat for a moment, weighing her options. Judging by the expression on her face, she didn’t like the conclusion she came to.

“There was someone else who’s been sneaking around,” she whispered.

I waited, letting her take her time.

Shawna’s eyes darted from side to side. I’ve seen rats in a maze that looked happier.

“It was Mr. Hanover,” she blurted finally. “You know, the Big Guy. The headmaster.”

I guessed that meant I needed to have a chat with the Big Guy. You know, the headmaster.

While I’d been trying to mind my own business, it seemed like half the school had been acting suspicious. Russell made as good a place to start as any. Besides, I’d brought Ruth’s diary to school with me as he’d requested, and I wanted to place the book in his hands personally.

The bell to announce the start of first period was ringing as I left the dining room. Already late, I stopped in the office and grabbed the mail out of my box. Aside from the usual batch of Monday morning memos, there was a terse note from Michael canceling the pageant committee meeting he’d scheduled for noon. No explanation was offered. Just for the heck of it, I bumped his name up to second place on my list.

When I got to my classroom, I found Willie Boyd sitting on the floor beside Faith’s bed. He was telling her about the Poodle that had belonged to his aunt. I knew that boy had potential.

Seeing me, Willie leapt to his feet and brushed off his pants self-consciously. “Just checking out your guard dog,” he said, unsure how much I’d heard. “I guess she’ll do.”

“She likes to be talked to.” I put my things down on my desk and walked over to where he stood. “I do it all the time.”

“You do?”

“Sure, Faith makes a great listener. Besides, she understands almost everything I say.”

“Nah, she’s not
that
smart.”

“Want to bet?”

Willie’s gaze narrowed. “This is a trick, right?”

I shrugged innocently. “Some people look at Faith and can’t see past the silly hairdo. They think she must be some kind of circus dog with mush for brains. That’s their mistake. Luckily, Faith’s way too intelligent to let other people’s ignorance bother her.”

“Don’t tell me. We’re having some kind of life lesson here, aren’t we?” Willie pulled out a chair and sat down. “You’re using that dog to make a point.”

“You catch on pretty quick for a kid who got a C- on his last Latin quiz.”

“Latin’s a dead language. I’m saving my energy for things that can do me some good.”

“College is going to do you plenty of good.” I took a chair on the other side of the table. “And top grades are what’s going to get you where you want to go. I know you’ve had some trouble fitting in here, and things aren’t going to get any easier when you go to Brunswick for high school next year. A lot of kids in Greenwich get everything they want handed to them. I guess that makes you luckier than most.”

“Luckier? How do you figure that?”

“Because you’ve already learned how to work hard and think for yourself. Some of my students will spend the next decade trying to figure out things you already take for granted. You have tremendous gifts, Willie, but it’s up to you to use what’s being offered. Slacking off isn’t going to make you popular. In the long run, the only person you’ll hurt is yourself.”

Willie leaned back in his chair, frowning. “You sound just like my mother.”

“Good.”

I figured that meant I was getting my point across. Besides, I’d met Willie’s mother on parents’ night. Emma Boyd was every bit as smart as her son, plus she had a wicked sense of humor. I didn’t mind the comparison a bit.

“You know, as teachers go, you’re not half-bad.”

“Thanks. Now let’s dig out your Latin book and have a look.”

“Sure.” Willie reached for his backpack. “But first there’s something you ought to know. Brad Jameson, remember you asked me about him?”

“I remember. What about him?”

“He’s gone.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just what I said. He’s gone, left town. Cleared out over the weekend and took his business with him.”

“What business was that?” I asked carefully.

“You know.” Willie frowned. “We talked about it before.”

“And you said you didn’t know anything about what Brad was up to.”

“No,” Willie corrected me. “I said I didn’t
need
to know. I wasn’t interested, and I didn’t have any use for his services. But that doesn’t mean I can’t see what’s right under my nose. Anyway, it doesn’t matter now because he’s out of here.”

That was an interesting wrinkle. I wondered if Detective Shertz had been keeping tabs on Brad’s whereabouts.

“Any idea why he left?” I asked.

“Maybe I heard a few things. People say Brad thought Greenwich was getting a little hot. Like maybe he needed to find a new place to set up shop where he wasn’t so well known.”

“Thanks for the information,” I said. “I’ll pass it along.”

Willie nodded and opened his book.

The tutoring session with Willie was followed by three others in quick succession. It was lunchtime before I had a chance to slip out and run over to Russell’s office; and when I got there, he wasn’t in. Now it was Harriet’s turn to look smug.

“Perhaps if you’d made an appointment,” she said primly. “You know how busy Mr. Hanover can be.” Her hand hovered above a pink notepad. “I’ll tell him you stopped by. Is there any message?”

“Just tell him I need to talk to him, okay?”

I left her scribbling on the pad and went off in search of Michael. No luck there either. Rather than waste the entire period running around in vain, I consoled myself by going to lunch.

The kitchen was serving chicken Florentine with chocolate chip brownies for dessert. I went back for seconds, then carried the extra brownie with me to eat while I took Faith outside for a run. Back inside ten minutes later, it was time to teach some more.

This is why Kinsey Milhone doesn’t have a day job.

At quarter to three, my intercom buzzed. Russell was in his office and would see me as soon as I was available. I gave my last student short shrift and made myself available immediately. Don’t forget, I still had Davey’s bus to meet.

Did I mention that Kinsey doesn’t have children either?

No matter what else is happening at Howard Academy, Russell Hanover’s office is usually an oasis of calm. The headmaster prides himself on setting an example worth following. His veneer of imperturbability is meant to inspire us all to keep a similarly stiff upper lip, and usually it works.

Not today. Today all hell was breaking loose. Even the unflappable Harriet looked frazzled.

“What’s up?” I whispered under my breath, as she shooed me past her desk and into the inner sanctum.

She shook her head slightly and pulled the door shut behind me.

“Mr. Hanover?”

He was standing at the window, staring off down the driveway. His back was to me, and even when I said his name, he didn’t look around.

“Is something wrong?”

Finally, he turned and walked over to his desk. “Is there anything that’s not wrong? In the last seven days, we’ve had a murder, a fire, a funeral, and a discovery of drugs on campus. I’ve been trying to hold things together, but regrettably, it may only be a matter of time before even I lose my grip. And those barbarians at the gate aren’t helping matters any.”

“The media?”

“Who else?” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his pants, ruining the elegant line of his suit. “I was asked to make a statement to the press, chastising the police for not solving the murder with more dispatch. When I refused, the reporter implied that perhaps the police were being hampered in their investigation because Howard Academy was stonewalling.

“It’s been a week, and they want a story. If one isn’t available, they’re not above inventing one to suit their purposes. Howard Academy has flourished for half a century. It saddens me to think the school may not survive my tenure as headmaster.”

I’d never seen him so morose. “I think you need a drink,” I said. A small bar was set up on a cart in a corner of the room. I assumed it was there for the benefit of visiting parents. Certainly, I’d never seen anyone make use of it. “Scotch?”

“In the middle of the afternoon?” Russell smiled slightly. “Is this how low we’ve sunk?”

“I’d say so.”

I opened a bottle of Chivas and poured him a double. Russell didn’t protest when I placed the glass on his desk. I put Ruth’s diary down beside it. He glanced at it, then flipped through the pages idly, not really looking at them.

“This must be the diary you told me about on Friday.” I nodded.

“Did it contain what you were looking for?”

“A theme for the spring pageant? No. Ruth’s story didn’t turn out to be suitable.”

Russell shrugged, his demeanor clearly conveying the thought: another setback, what else is new? Much as I’d always wished that Bitsy would use a little less starch in his shorts, I wasn’t sure I liked being confronted with the headmaster’s more vulnerable side.

Had he been this worn down by the past week’s events? I wondered. Or was something more going on? I was beginning to think that Russell looked like a man with a guilty conscience.

“There’s something I’ve been wondering about,” I said.

He picked up the drink I’d poured and took a hefty swallow. Good for him. I’d have pictured him as a sipper.

“What’s that?”

“Michael Durant was hired mid year. Isn’t that unusual?”

“No.” Russell’s voice was firm, but his eyes shifted away. “Not if there’s a need.”

“And Howard Academy developed a sudden need for a drama coach?”

“It was hardly sudden. I’d been thinking about making such an addition for a while.”

“And about adding a spring pageant to the school’s program? I understand this is the first year such an event has been held.”

“So?”

“One of the other teachers mentioned that Michael’s credentials were not as high as Howard Academy might normally be expected to demand.”

“They were perfectly adequate for the position he was being asked to fill.” Russell did not look pleased by my questions. “I’m not sure why you consider this to be any of your business.”

“It’s been hard not to notice that a number of people have been behaving oddly since Krebbs was murdered.” I decided it wouldn’t further my cause to mention that Russell’s own name was on the list. “Most have been associated with the school for years. Michael only arrived six weeks ago. Detective Shertz said he didn’t believe in coincidence. I’m not sure I do either.”

A minute passed while Russell sat and said nothing. His drink remained untouched. His fingertip traced an aimless pattern on the blotter.

“Howard Academy is a private institution,” he said finally. “Serving the best interests of our students is our first priority. In this day and age, that seems to be a somewhat idealistic notion. Unfortunately, one sometimes finds that idealism must be set aside in the face of practicality.”

“What does that have to do with the drama coach?”

Once again, Russell was silent.

“Is there something you know that you haven’t told the police?” I prompted. “Do you know who murdered Eugene Krebbs?”

The question shocked him out of his reverie. “Certainly not. I would never conceal such a thing. There has been something preying on my mind. A business transaction—perhaps a regrettable one—but nothing more than that.”

I didn’t believe him. There was something here. I was sure of it. “A business deal between you and Michael? Did it have anything to do with the drugs that were found in the cottage?”

Russell’s face suffused with color. “What sort of a person do you take me for?”

“One with secrets, apparently. I know how you feel about Howard Academy. You’d do anything to protect the school—”

“Quite right. And that’s precisely what I have done.”

“You made a deal with Michael Durant to protect the school? I don’t understand.”

“Of course not. There’s no reason you should.”

“Mr. Hanover, whatever you’re hiding—”

“Is hardly germane to what happened to Krebbs.”

I pulled a chair up to his desk and sat down. “Perhaps Detective Shertz should be allowed to decide that.”

“It’s not a matter I wish to have made public. Indeed, that’s how this whole sorry business got started.” Russell looked at me and sighed. “May I depend on your discretion?”

“Certainly, unless—” His look silenced me. I waited to hear what he had to say.

“As it happens, the circumstances surrounding Michael Durant’s employment were a bit unusual.”

“In what way?”

“He came to us. To me, rather, with a proposal. Howard Academy has long been proud of our position in the Greenwich community. We set an example. We uphold our traditions. And we always take care of our own.”

“Like Eugene Krebbs?”

“Exactly.” Russell stood up and walked back to the window. Once again, he was staring outward. I wondered what, if anything, he saw. “And like Michael Durant.”

Now I was confused. “How did Michael become part of Howard Academy’s family?”

“He was born that way,” Russell said quietly. “Not in the official sense, but his proof was compelling enough. For as long as I’ve been at Howard Academy, I’d heard the stories. Rumors, really, of an illegitimate child born to one of the family members.”

“Ruth,” I said. “The youngest daughter.”

Russell turned to look at me. “Don’t tell me you’re another family connection.”

“Hardly. I learned the story over the weekend from Ruth’s diary. She became pregnant and was planning to elope. Honoria paid off the boy and sent Ruth away to have the baby. She implied that it was put up for adoption.”

“Maybe that was the plan, but it isn’t what happened. The boy’s family took the child and raised him. He grew up to be Michael Durant’s father.”

“You’re kidding!”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Russell said irritably. “Michael has possession of letters and photographs that back his claim. While the Howards were determined to keep the whole incident quiet, the Silverman family was rather proud of their association with one of Greenwich’s leading names. From the time Michael was a child, he’d been told stories about his grandfather’s dalliance with Ruth Howard.”