Murder Is Our Mascot (10 page)

As the crowd was dismissed, Emily stood, thinking to make her way down to Pastor Dean and thank him for officiating the service. While she waited for the crowd to thin, however, she noticed a tanned, blonde, Amazonian woman sobbing on the pastor's shoulder. By her sculpted legs and toned arms, Emily deduced she must be the girlfriend, Stephanie. She'd, unfortunately, get to meet her later at the gym.

The air of sadness and loss was beginning to smother Emily. Checking one more time for Tad, she skirted around the upper bleachers to exit on the other side. As she made her way along the clanging metal walkway, another man passed by ahead of her. Like her, he was moving on the fringes of the crowd. Unlike her, his head was down, and his shoulders were hunched as if he were trying to sneak away, not merely avoid the crowd. She was so intent on watching the man, she didn't pay close enough attention to where she was walking. Her shin banged into the bleacher next to her, sending reverberations throughout its length. The stranger jumped and glanced over his shoulder. Seeing Emily, he started to see her staring back at him and hurried away. In that moment, Emily felt a jolt of recognition. She was sure she had never seen that man before, yet he had seemed so familiar. Was her subconscious trying to tell her that this man was the murderer? Throwing caution to the winds, Emily hurried after the fleeing man with his suit coat flying out behind him. She gripped the stairway railing firmly so as not to lose her footing again. She moved as fast as her heeled boots would allow, but by the time she pounded down the last step, the man was nowhere in sight. Frustrated, Emily yanked down her sweater dress that had worked its way up during her mad pursuit. She reached up to smooth her hair, turning to head toward the school, and barreled into the people in front of her.

Emily immediately began to apologize, then saw that the person she had ran into was Arlene. The real estate agent waved off her apology, looking as composed as ever. Stevie, on the other hand, knuckled his red, swollen eyes, looking much younger than his seventeen years. Emily ached to hug him but knew that her motion would be rebuffed. Instead, she asked him if he planned to continue with football. Stevie's eyes brightened as he nodded. "Ms. Taylor, I love football. I don't think anything could make me quit." Here he glared at his mother, who still remained unfazed. Then his mouth and shoulders drooped again as he continued. "But it certainly won't be the same without Coach. I'm glad we don't have to play tonight. I don't think our hearts would be in it. It's too soon." He gave an awkward shrug. She wished again that there was some way she could help him. Arlene had a soothing hand on his arm, and Emily cast around for something to say that might cheer him up.

She shocked herself by what came out of her mouth. "Stevie, I know that you, and all the players, are hurting over this loss. I plan to do everything I can to see that justice is served. In fact, my friend Gabby and I are even headed up to Iowa tomorrow to see if we can find out anything that might help the investigation."

Emily wasn't sure if she was more surprised by her sharing of this information with Stevie or with his exuberant hug. "That's great, Ms. Taylor! I know you can figure this thing out and make sure that the evil SOB who did this is punished." He immediately turned a brilliant shade of red. "Begging your pardon for my language."

Arlene frowned, but Emily patted his hand. "It's okay, Stevie. I know you're upset. Hey, by the way, did Coach Layton ever talk about his past at all?" She knew it was a long shot, but she held her breath anyway.

"Not really. Coach was more 'all football, all the time.' Sorry." Emily pasted on a smile and thanked him anyway. "I'll see you Monday, Ms. Taylor. Thanks again."

"Yes, thank you," Arlene murmured as they passed.

Emily was berating herself for getting the boy's hopes up. What if she didn't find out anything useful? What if Coach Layton's killer was not found or brought to justice? She was lost in thought as she ambled toward the school and her car, so the light touch on her arm caught her by surprise.

"Tad! You scared me."

"You were so deep in thought I'm surprised you didn't wander into the street. Can't have my gym buddy getting hit by a bus, now can we?"

Emily groaned. It was official. This day could not possibly get any worse.

* * *

She grumbled all the way home. Digging to the very back of her closet, she unearthed the pair of running shoes she had purchased in a haze of New Year's Eve-resolution delirium. She didn't plan on actually doing any running, but they would work for the gym. At least they were cute, Emily consoled herself, as she tied the dark-purple laces. She surveyed herself in the mirror and shrugged. She had donned black yoga pants in hopes that the color would de-emphasize her hips. The long purple shirt she had paired with them was meant to conceal her hips if the black pants didn't help. She was heavily disappointed in the job both of them were doing, but Tad's insistent honking out front meant she had no time to change.

Tad gave her a huge grin as she climbed in the car, slamming the door behind her. When she remained silent, he laughed and turned on the radio. Emily refused to give him a chance to goad her, and so she said nothing until they had pulled up in front of the industrial-looking building that housed Perfect Fitness. Tad turned off the ignition and looked over at her. "Are you coming?" he asked her.

"Yes, but only because I'm worried about Helen. And"—she paused—"because I expect ice cream after this."

"After a workout?" Tad sounded incredulous, but Emily was sticking to her guns.

"Yep, after a 'pretend' workout, in the name of research."

"Have it your way, Pit." Tad locked the car, and they trooped into the gym. The industrial theme was carried into the interior as huge steel beams crisscrossed the soaring ceiling. Tad headed straight for the long concrete counter at the side of the room. Emily dragged her feet, taking in the stick-thin redhead behind it. She highly doubted that girl did any heavy lifting, which was what all the industrial elements made her think of. The redhead looked more like a poster child for bulimia or anorexia. Emily tugged the hem of her shirt even further down, trying not to snarl when Tad turned, holding out two visitor passes like he was offering her the world. Emily took the proffered pass, holding it away from her body as if it might bite, and followed Tad into a room filled with intimidating-looking machines. Terrified of losing a limb, or even worse, her dignity, Emily zeroed in on the one machine she knew how to use. Grabbing Tad's arm, she propelled him toward a row of treadmills.

She was feeling quite proud of herself once she was walking along at a fast clip, having figured the machine out all by herself. Then she glanced over and saw Tad jogging easily away on an incline much steeper than hers. She resisted, barely, the urge to push him off his own machine, but only because she was afraid to risk letting go of her own. Instead, she focused on the inspiring view in front of her of…the parking lot.

The day was overcast, and storm clouds appeared to be rolling in. A tall, blonde woman who had pulled into the parking lot was unfolding an umbrella. Emily looked closer at the blonde ponytail as it bobbed its way to the entrance. She was the Amazon from the memorial service. Emily tapped Tad, harder than necessary, and pointed her out. Tad nodded in acknowledgment, and they both slowed their machines, watching who had to be Stephanie make her way into the gym.

In moments, the woman, still in her sedate dress clothes, was making her way across the room, oblivious to the motion around her. Emily and Tad caught up to her right before she disappeared through a door that was clearly marked "Employees Only." Emily called out, "Stephanie?"

The woman turned, puzzled, and Emily could see that her eyes were red and swollen from crying. "Yes?" Her tone was cautious yet polite. Emily knew she was frantically trying to place them.

Emily saved her the trouble. "We're colleagues of Jim Layton. We taught with him at Ellington High. We are both so sorry for your loss." She motioned to both Tad and herself.

"I see. Well, thank you for your condolences." She began moving forward again, but this time Tad stopped her.

 "We were wondering if we could speak to you a moment." Tad's voice was firm and encouraging. Stephanie looked them both up and down and then gave an imperceptible nod, motioning for them to follow her.

She led them through the employee door into a long hallway. Even more doors lined each side of the corridor. Stephanie unlocked the third one on the left, then waved them in ahead of her. Emily immediately felt claustrophobic in the small space. Seeing the panic in her eyes, Tad motioned her to the one visitor's chair, while he leaned casually by the door, propping it open. Stephanie plopped down in her own chair and dropped her head in her hands. "I don't mean to be rude," she began, "but as you know, it's been a very difficult day. I only came in to pick up a few demo Zumba tapes to preview over the weekend. What is it I can do for you?"

"Well—" Emily shot Tad a nervous look, and he nodded encouragingly. "—actually, we're trying to look into Jim's death a bit more. Helen Burning is a friend of ours, and we think the police are looking at the wrong suspect. We're hoping that maybe something in Jim's past could lead us to some new information."

Stephanie had stiffened at the mention of Helen's name, but since she didn't kick them out of her office, Emily was hopeful. She waited, giving Stephanie time to form a response. The silence stretched out, but Emily remained quiet. Wait time was one of her most effective tools as a teacher. Finally, Stephanie sighed and dropped her hands. "Look. I don't know what happened to Jim or why. He was a wonderful man, and things were starting to get serious between us. I want whoever did this to him to be caught and punished." She gulped in air and swiped at her eyes. "But," she continued, "but…I really don't think Helen is behind this either. She's in here all the time. We've even ran some 5Ks together. What possible motive could she have for hurting Jim?"

Emily leaned forward. "That's what we want to find out. We can't find any information from Jim's past older than eleven years ago. How long had you and Jim been dating?"

Stephanie twisted her hands together. "We'd been seeing each other steadily for about six months. We met here at the gym. I was leaving late one night, he offered to walk me to my car, and things progressed from there."

Tad spoke up. "What can you tell us about Jim's life before he moved here?"

"Not much, I'm afraid. Jim never really talked about his past. I know he was close to his brother and that his brother lives in New York. I got the impression that his brother had experienced some terrible loss, but Jim never volunteered any information, and I didn't want to push. As I said, things were progressing between us, but—"

"But?" Tad prompted.

"But the past couple of weeks, Jim was different."

"Different how?" Emily asked.

"I don't know exactly. It was like he was more distracted, on edge. He didn't confide anything, but he did tell me he had a late meeting the night he was killed."

"Do you know who he was meeting?" Emily couldn't keep the eagerness out of her voice. This might be the lead they were looking for.

"No. I didn't even know his meeting was at the school." Stephanie's eyes filled.

Darn it. So much for a lead. Emily stood up and impulsively moved around the desk to give Stephanie a hug. "Again, I'm so sorry for your loss," she said as Stephanie began to sob quietly. "If there is anything either one of us can do for you, please let us know." When Stephanie only nodded, Tad and Emily moved out of the office, shutting the door quietly behind them to give Stephanie some privacy.

"So, what do you think?" Emily asked as they reemerged into the busy gym.

"I think we should try out a few of these machines while we're here on a visitor's pass."

"I meant about Stephanie! And you can forget the machines. You promised me ice cream." Emily gave Tad a push in the direction of the exit.

"All right, all right. Let me apply for a membership first. I like this place."

Emily watched the rain spatter the asphalt, tapping her toe, while Tad dealt, or more like flirted, if you asked her, with the anorexic redhead. Once they were finally in the car, Emily repeated her question.

"I think she's a grieving girlfriend. But she doesn't know anything that really helps us. We found out the brother lives in New York, so maybe we can do some checking there. What're you thinking?" he asked, pulling into their favorite ice cream place.

Emily waited to answer until she had placed her order for a large caramel sundae with extra whipped cream. "I liked Stephanie. But, what if this was a lover's quarrel gone bad? Isn't it usually the boyfriend or girlfriend that the cops look at first? Stephanie is definitely strong enough to have knocked out a guy, even one as big as Jim."

Tad waited until their order was delivered, then, licking chocolate fudge off the end of his spoon, said, "I think you've watched too many
Castle
reruns. We don't have a shred of evidence linking Stephanie to Jim's death."

"Maybe Gabby and I will find some proof tomorrow in Peculiar Bluffs," she said.

Tad didn't respond, and Emily was relived to be spared another lecture. When Tad pulled up in front of her dark home, putting the car in park, he asked, "Do you want me to walk you in?"

Emily shook her head no, but before she could open her door, Tad leaned over and lightly touched her cheek, turning her face toward his. "Please be careful tomorrow" was all he said before he planted a light kiss on her forehead.

Emily nodded mutely, unsure of what to say. And then she was splashing through the rain before Tad could see her flaming cheeks. She noted that Tad didn't budge from the curb until she had locked her door and turned on a light. She couldn't quite contain the glow that spread from her smile to her heart.

When Emily's alarm went off at 6:00 a.m. the next morning, she smacked it several times, briefly wondering why she had set her alarm for a Saturday morning, before remembering the trip planned for today. She had less than twenty minutes to throw herself together by the time she actually dragged herself from beneath her warm, snuggly comforter.