Murder Has No Class (3 page)

“Enough!” Felicity’s roar reduced all chattering in the hallways to silence. The two who were arguing glowered at each other, but remained silent while Felicity demanded to know what the disagreement was about.

One of the bystanders decided to be helpful. “They were fighting over a boyfriend,” she announced, just as Meredith reached the group.

Felicity’s face grew dark. “No one in this school has a boyfriend,” she roared. “Boyfriends are nasty, lecherous beings whose only aim is to bring you heartache and disgrace. They are to be avoided at all costs. Is that clear?”

Both girls nodded, though not with too much conviction.

Recognizing one of the contenders, Meredith pinched her lips. She had no doubt about whom Sophie Westchester had been quarreling. As the students hurried off, Meredith beckoned to the young woman and drew her aside. “I understand you were in the art studio late last night,” she said, without preamble.

Sophie immediately shot a desperate look after her departing friends, then stared down at the floor. “Yes, miss,” she mumbled.

“I am also led to believe that someone else was in there with you.”

Sophie’s cheeks turned pink. “Er—yes, miss. It was Mr. Platt.”

“May I ask what you were doing in the art studio with Mr. Platt at that late hour?”

Sophie poked the toe of her shoe out from under her skirt and stared at it as if she’d never seen it before. “Looking for my palette?”

She’d phrased the answer as a question and Meredith tightened her lips. “Mr. Platt seemed to think you were looking for a sketch book.”

“Oh, that’s right. My sketch book. I forgot.”

Meredith curled her fingers into her palms. “I suggest, Miss Westchester, that the next time you search for a missing article late at night, you do so alone. Otherwise I shall feel strongly compelled to inform your parents of your unfortunate behavior.”

“Yes, Mrs. Llewellyn.”

“You may leave.”

“Yes, miss.” Dipping her head, Sophie backed away, then turned and fled down the hallway after her friends.

Staring after her, Meredith frowned. One more strike against the unprincipled Mr. Platt. Something would have to be done about that young man, and soon.

Essie was already seated by the fire when Meredith followed Felicity into the teacher’s lounge. She smiled as the women entered the room. “I was wondering what kept you both.”

Felicity grunted. “Idiotic girls. Arguing over some young wastrel. What a stupendous waste of time.”

Essie raised her eyebrows at Meredith, who shook her head. Felicity’s apparent hatred of the male species was legendary. “It was nothing. I took care of it.” She glanced over at the empty chairs. “Sylvia hasn’t arrived yet.”

“With any luck she’ll have something pressing to take care of and leave us in peace.” Felicity threw herself down on her chair. “Lord, these shoes will be the death of me.” She frowned at the offending black Oxfords sticking out from under her long skirt. “I swear I’m getting gout or something.”

“It’s because they are new.” Essie poked a dainty foot out from under her frock. “These hurt me when I first started wearing them, but now they are quite comfortable.”

“I don’t see how,” Felicity murmured. “All those straps digging into your foot. Give me a sensible lace-up anytime.”

Meredith drew a deep breath. “I saw a red glow in my office this morning!”

Two faces turned to stare at her in astonishment.

Meredith gave them both a weak smile. She hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that, but any minute Sylvia Montrose could stroll in and her opportunity to discuss the matter with her friends would be lost.

She needed that reassurance from them, to free her mind from worry in order to conduct her classes that afternoon with any degree of competence.

“A red glow?” Essie looked confused. “Do you mean the sunrise?”

“I think she means something else,” Felicity murmured. “Were you thinking it was another ghost, perhaps?”

Essie gasped, her eyes growing wide. “Oh, no, Meredith. I thought you were finished with all that.”

“So did I.” Meredith leaned over and retrieved her knitting bag from the small cabinet at her side. Holding knitting needles helped to steady her hands whenever she was out of sorts.

“Are you sure it was a ghost?”

Felicity had sounded skeptical as usual. Meredith sighed. “No, I’m not. In fact, I’m not even sure now that I actually saw a glow. I was having a rather tense conversation with Roger Platt at the time and may well have imagined the whole thing. I merely wanted to mention it so I could perhaps put the entire incident out of my mind.”

“It could have been a trick of the light,” Essie said, looking anxious.

“Or your eyes deceiving you.” Felicity leaned forward. “Perhaps you need them examined. You may need to wear spectacles. After all, staring all day at those atrocious paintings your students produce must have an adverse effect on your eyes.”

Meredith tried to curb her resentment. Felicity was well known for her sharp tongue and rarely meant her words in the way they were presented. Still, she couldn’t help getting just a little defensive. “My students do quite well considering they are not accomplished artists.”

“Oh, bosh, Meredith, don’t take offense.” Felicity passed a weary hand over her forehead. “You know I wasn’t casting aspersions on your ability to teach. It’s the student’s fault if she’s unable to share your visions and produce them adequately on the page.”

“Well, perhaps I should pay a visit to the opticians.” Meredith drew out a length of knitting from the bag and laid it in her lap. “Much as I detest the idea of wearing spectacles, it is far better than having to deal with another ghost.”

“The last one almost killed you,” Essie said, her voice fearful.

“Considering she was supposedly just a child, her presence really did seem to cause a lot of trouble for everyone.” Felicity leaned down to rub at the toe of her shoe.

“It wasn’t her fault.” Meredith grasped the needles in her lap and examined the stitches clinging to one of them. “She asked for my help. How could I deny a child whose life had been so tragically shortened, not to mention those of her entire family? I had to find out who was responsible.”

“Well, you can certainly deny this one.” Felicity sat up again. “Though I must say I’m inclined to believe your vision was more likely attributed to your eyesight than a visit from the other side.”

“I hope you’re right.” Meredith looked up as the door opened and Sylvia walked in. For now, the discussion was over, but she had an uncomfortable feeling that the matter was far from resolved. Much as she wanted to believe she had imagined that glow in the corner, she couldn’t ignore the possibility that once more a ghost was hovering within her vicinity, just waiting for the opportunity to beg her assistance.

 

 

“If Mona finds out what we’re up to she’ll send us both packing.” Grace dragged the carpet sweeper behind her, bumping it on every stair on the way up. “You know we’re not supposed to mix with the students.”

“We do a lot of things we’re not supposed to do.” Olivia stood at the top of the stairs, a bucket in one hand and a mop in the other. “All we’ve got to do is sneak into the library after they get out of class. There’ll be plenty of girls in there then. We’ll tell just a few what we’re doing, and hope they tell their friends.”

Grace’s eyebrows shot up in alarm. “
Wot
? Are you off your rocker? What if the teachers hear about it?”

“We’ll swear everyone to secrecy. We’ll tell them that if the teachers find out, the whole thing will be off. What’s more, if someone tells on us, we’ll find out who it is and make her wish she’d kept her blinking mouth shut.”

Grace shivered. “I don’t like this, Olivia. I really don’t. It’s not worth it. We could really lose our jobs if we get into trouble again.”

“We won’t lose our jobs.” The bucket clanged in Olivia’s hand as she swung around and started down the corridor. “Where are they going to get two hard workers like us in Crickling Green? All the young girls are going up to the city to go into service there. Nobody wants to work in this godforsaken place. There’s nowhere to go, nothing to do, and only a bunch of louts in the village.”

“Why do you stay then?”

Olivia dumped the bucket on the floor and looked at her. “Sometimes I ask myself that same question. I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I know you won’t go to the city with me and I can’t leave you here all alone.”

Grace felt tears filling her eyes. When Olivia talked like that she’d walk barefoot on burning coals for her. “When are we going to do the protest then?”

Olivia grinned. “On Saturday. It’s the first of May. May Day. They’ll be dancing around the maypole on the village green that day, and old fish-face Shipham will be watching over them all. He’ll be too busy to pay attention to what’s going on at the Dog and Duck, and by the time he realizes something’s up, we’ll be long gone.”

Still not convinced, Grace tried to look enthusiastic. “Good. You’ve got it all worked out, then.”

“You bet I have, and don’t worry, Grace.” Olivia picked up the bucket again. “There’s only a bunch of old geezers what goes into the pub midday. We’ll march through the public bar, smash all the glasses we can get our hands on and we’ll be out of there before they can struggle out of their chairs.”

Grace felt her jaw drop. “Smash the glasses?”

Olivia turned her back on her. “Well, of course. What’s the use of protesting if you don’t do a little damage on the way?”

Prison, that’s where they were going to end up, Grace was sure of it. Still, even prison with Olivia was better than life without her. Shoving the sweeper in front of her, Grace started pushing it back and forth across the carpet. All she had to do was remember what her friend had said about not leaving her alone. That gave her the courage she needed. Votes for women. It was a good cause. Maybe Olivia was right. Maybe this time it would all turn out all right.

 

 

Standing in front of a dozen or so expectant pupils, Meredith raised her hand. “We will take that again from the second chorus. On the count of three. One, two, three!” She began conducting, and the voices soared in harmony.

At least, they were supposed to harmonize. The actual sound that erupted from the throats of the earnest young students more closely resembled a crowd of unruly onlookers at a hockey match than a finely tuned choral group. Bach was no doubt turning over in his grave.

Frowning, Meredith turned to the piano and played the opening notes of the chorus, singing along with great emphasis to illustrate the harmony. “Now, do you hear that?” She played and sang it again for good measure. “Now that’s what I want to hear.”

She was about to turn back when something moved into her vision. Her hands froze on the keys as she stared at the red glow hovering near the center of the room. It seemed to billow up from the ground like smoke, weaving and swaying as if caught by the wind.

She blinked, twice, but the mist remained, thickening now. The edges of it were dark red, and the center swirled in angry coils of scarlet and pink.

Aware of the uneasy silence behind her, Meredith leaned forward over the piano and whispered hoarsely, “Go away! Leave me alone!”

The silence was broken by whispers and a muffled giggle. At the sound, the mist seemed to curl in on itself, and then it vanished.

Meredith lifted trembling hands from the keys, pausing for a long moment to steady herself. Behind her, the students shuffled feet, softly coughed, and whispered among themselves.

Turning, Meredith cleared her throat. “All right,” she said firmly. “From the second chorus. One, two, three.”

The result was not much better, but at least she had managed to regain their attention. There was not a single doubt in her mind that she had been the only one to see the red mist. She had discovered early on that no one else could see her visions—or whatever they were. Most of the time she could barely see them herself.

Whatever ability she possessed to communicate with the dead was limited at best. So far she had not been able to converse with the ghosts, and could only see them for short intervals at a time.

Since they seemed intent on her solving some kind of mystery concerning their deaths, that made things somewhat complicated. She had learned that the only way the ghosts would leave was if she was successful in finding out the truth about their demise, and the only help she got from them were vague clues rendered by little more than gestures and pointing at various objects. All very frustrating, to say the least.

Now, it seemed, she was about to be visited by yet another ghost looking for justice. It was not a task she anticipated with any pleasure.

Thankful when at last she could dismiss the class, Meredith headed for the teacher’s lounge. Felicity and Essie had helped her in the past, though with obvious reluctance. Felicity refused to express any belief in ghosts, and no doubt suspected Meredith of investigating the previous murders simply on a whim, while Essie was scared to death of the apparitions, despite the fact she couldn’t see them.

Nevertheless, Meredith was determined to get her friends involved right from the start. Three heads were better than one. With their help she might possibly solve whatever mystery awaited her in short order and be rid of the annoying inconvenience of being haunted by a less than constructive wraith with an ax to grind.

She was halfway down the hallway when a deep, masculine voice spoke her name. “Meredith! I hoped to catch you in between your classes. It seems I am in luck.”

Inwardly cursing her unfortunate timing, she slowed her steps and came to a halt. Approaching her at a rapid pace was Stuart Hamilton, his face wreathed in a smile.

Dealing with Bellehaven’s charming owner was difficult for Meredith at the best of times. She had no idea why, but the man had a way of putting her off guard. Whenever in his presence, she found herself unable to think clearly and inevitably ended up saying or doing something foolish. For days afterward she would cringe at the memory.