Murder Is Our Mascot (5 page)

Greg patted her shoulder. "Hang in there, kid. You're tougher than you think you are."

Emily gave him a weak smile. "How do you know him?" she asked.

"I've worked with his mom, Arlene, on several real estate deals."

"Of course." Emily smacked her forehead. "I had forgotten that she was in the real estate business. I need to call her first thing tomorrow and get that meeting rescheduled. I know he's capable of doing the work. I just have to figure out what his deal is."

"I'm sure his mom will be a big help. She seems absolutely devoted to him. She's always showing me a picture or telling me some story about him whenever I run into her," Greg assured Emily.

"Ready to eat?" Gabby interrupted, setting a large bowl of steaming mashed potatoes on the table.

Emily realized she was starving. In all the excitement, she hadn't had much time for food. That was a new one for her. Apparently finding dead bodies would be a benefit to her hips, if not her nerves. She couldn't wait to dig into those potatoes and one of the juicy pork chops staring at her from across the table. She managed to hold herself back while the twins said their version of grace, and then she pounced. She was about to shovel in the first mouthful when she once again heard her phone ringing from the other room. "Excuse me," she murmured and raced to the couch where she'd left her purse. One glance at her phone showed that it was her mom calling again. She answered at once.

Her mom always talked fast and furiously, but normally Emily could understand her. Not this time. "Mom, slow down. I can't understand a word you're saying." The line went silent and Emily thought her mom had hung up on her until she heard her dad's voice instead.

"Turn on the news. There's a breaking bulletin about the murder. And about Helen." Emily felt her dad's words plummet to the pit of her stomach and settle there like a rock. She grabbed the remote off the coffee table in front of her with shaking fingers and stabbed the power button. A cartoon blared out cheerful music while various animal-like characters frolicked in a meadow. It took Emily a minute to figure out how to get the right channel, but the minute she did, she saw that a news reporter was standing outside the high school. According to the shellacked blonde on-screen, Helen Burning was named as the prime suspect in Jim Layton's murder. The reporter went on to say that Helen was believed to be on the run. Pepper spray residue was found on the victim, and Helen was known to carry a canister, especially since she often went running alone. An anonymous source told police that Helen and Jim Layton, the victim, had been overheard arguing prior to his demise. The motive was mentioned as financial gain, as Layton's wallet and phone were missing, and his bank account had been cleared out late last night, in three-hundred-dollar increments. As anyone in Ellington knew, Helen was widowed young and never had any children. Like Emily, she was an only child, so she was the sole caretaker for her mother, who was now in a nursing home due to Alzheimer's. The bubbly blonde reporter tried to look serious as she announced that anyone who had seen or heard from Helen Burning was encouraged to call the number on the bottom of the screen. Emily had the urge to reach through the screen and pull out a handful of that coiffed and cemented hair.

Emily clicked off the TV and sank numbly onto the couch. It took her a few seconds to hear the faint sound of her dad calling her name. She put the phone back up to her ear. "You're still there? Sorry. Got caught up in the news. They can't be right, can they, Dad? What does Mom think?"

Before her dad could reply, Emily heard the sounds of a scuffle and then her mom's voice came back on the line. "Emily, there is no way that Helen had anything to do with that poor man's death! Something has happened to her, and we have to find her." At that point, she broke down in sobs, and the connection was broken.

Emily looked up to see Greg and Gabby staring at her from the doorway. "Well, what do you think?" she asked them.

"I think they're grasping at straws," Greg stated.

"Helen is innocent!" Gabby pounded the top of the chair she was standing behind for emphasis.

"I think so too," Emily declared, standing up. "We can't let Helen be railroaded like this. That so-called anonymous source had to be Barnes, and I think he's lying to cover his own tail."

"So, it's settled?" Gabby asked her. "We're officially on the case?"

Greg snorted. "Nancy Drew and her faithful sidekick." Emily blushed, remembering Tad saying much the same thing earlier.

This time, Emily flipped back her hair. "Well, if we're going to be Nancy Drew, I think it's only fair that we have her little blue roadster to tootle around in."

Greg laughed out loud. "Yeah, right. You'd wreck it the first day you had it."

Emily threw a couch pillow at him, but he ducked. Emily bowed her head in mock defeat. "You're probably right, Greg. But I can't be Nancy Drew anyway."

"Why not?" Gabby asked indignantly.

"I'd never fit into those little pencil skirts she was always wearing," Emily told her, patting her own ample hips.

Gabby threw the pillow back at her and caught Emily on the shoulder. "You better start running with me, then, because pencil skirts or no, starting tomorrow we
are
going to be Nancy Drews." So much for the mashed potatoes, Emily thought, taking in her best friend's perfectly toned body. She'd had twins, for goodness' sake! No one should be allowed to look that good. It wasn't fair to the rest of the female population.

Gabby watched her warily. "Why are you glaring at me like that? You don't want to be Nancy Drew?"

"Oh, I do, I do," Emily told her as she hauled her butt out of the plump couch cushions. "It's just that sometimes, even though you're my oldest friend and might-as-well-be sister, I really hate you."

Gabby didn't even bat an eye. "You don't hate me—you hate running. Hate the game, not the player." This time the pillow hit its mark—right between Gabby's eyes.

Emily yawned so big her jaw cracked. She groped blindly in the fridge for her morning hit of caffeine. Popping the top, she glugged deeply. "Rough night?" a voice asked right next to her ear. Emily's eyes flew open and she saw Tad smirking at her. As usual, he was dressed in khakis with a crease so crisp it could slice paper. Today's button-down shirt was a deep blue that reminded Emily of ocean waves and starry skies. The color made Tad's eyes look even bluer than usual. Not that she noticed, of course. The same way she didn't want to reach up and brush his perennially too-long hair back from those gorgeous blue eyes. Okay, obviously she needed more caffeine. She gulped greedily from the can again, not bothering to answer Tad's question.

Dropping down on the top of the small conference table in the teachers' lounge, Tad patted the space beside him. Emily swatted his legs aside and settled in a chair instead. "I can't believe you don't know how to sit in a chair correctly," she told him.

Tad didn't budge. "Talk, Pit. Did you see the news last night? How're you doing?"

Emily stared into her now-empty can as if offended that it dared to be empty. "Yeah, I was at Gabby's. I stayed later than I planned because I couldn't bear going home, knowing that Helen wouldn't be next door. But I got to help with the twins' baths and then bedtime stories, so it was worth the late night." Tad smiled—he too had a soft spot for those little girls. What Emily didn't tell him was how she had cowered under her covers, even after double- and triple-checking the lock on every door and window. Somewhere around 1:00 a.m., she had finally managed to get engrossed in a mystery she had been waiting to read. She didn't know when she finally dropped off to sleep, but it felt like only seconds before her alarm was blaring. Emily loathed alarms with a passion that was rivaled only by her hatred of running.

"Oh, and get this," she told Tad. "Gabby called me at 6:00 this morning so that we could go for a run."

Tad practically snorted soda out of his nose. He well knew Emily's aversion to running, as he had tried to talk her into going with him several times too. "What'd you tell her?"

"That I would run when running shoes came in heels."

"And…" Tad prompted.

"She hung up on me," Emily admitted.

"So why running today? Special occasion?"

Emily debated how much to tell him, then decided he'd find out the truth eventually anyway. "We've decided that we have to find Helen. We know she's not guilty. Our plan is to visit Serenity Falls after school to see what we can find out. That's the nursing home where Helen's mother is a resident."

Tad frowned. "Be careful, Em. There's a murderer out there."

Emily grimaced. "As if I need to be reminded."

Tad stood and held out a hand to help her up. "Better head to the gym. The bell's gonna ring any minute." As they headed out, he added, "You still didn't tell me why you were going running. Conditioning for outrunning the bad guys?"

Emily attempted to bump his shoulder but got his arm instead. For the millionth time, she wished she were taller. "No, it's so I can fit into Nancy Drew's pencil skirts."

Tad looked Emily up and down. Emily tried not to maintain eye contact, but the unmistakable heat in Tad's eyes made it difficult. "I like you just fine in what you have on, Pit."

 Now Emily looked down, taking stock of her outfit for the day—slim black pants, a tawny-colored sweater tunic, and leopard print heels, of course.

"Do I get to be a Hardy boy? You might need backup."

Emily smiled coyly, glancing up at him through her lashes, then replied, "Nope. You're on dog-sitting duty, remember?" When he frowned, she added, "And Tad, you're no Hardy boy." At his insulted look, she continued, "James Bond? Maybe. But definitely no Hardy boy."

"Remember, I like mine shaken, not stirred," Tad murmured in her ear as they approached the gym doors, and then he disappeared into the crowd. Emily fanned her overheated face as she took her own seat among the junior class.

* * *

Principal Matthews had decided that the best way to get things back on track at school was to start the day with an all-school assembly. That way everyone would hear the same information at the same time, hopefully eliminating rumors. He was standing behind a podium facing the bleachers, once again looking put together and in charge. His somber black suit and tie set the mood. Normally, teachers, especially those who were class sponsors, would be circulating among the students or giving them "the look" in order to get them to be silent. But as Emily looked around her section, most of them were staring at Principal Matthews or at the floor. A few were whispering, but the quiet, tense air in the gym made it clear that the loss of Coach Layton, especially in such a violent way, had devastated the entire student body. Emily wondered how Principal Matthews would address the students. How much would he tell them?

She didn't have to wait long to find out as the final bell rang, and Principal Matthews cleared his throat. The microphone on his podium gave a small squeal of feedback, but other than that, silence reigned. He began by talking about what a wonderful teacher and coach Jim Layton had been and how he knew they were all suffering from his loss. He hesitated a moment as sobs were heard from various sections of the bleachers. Emily wasn't sure what he would say about Helen, but she figured he would feel the need to address it somehow.

As if reading her mind, Principal Matthews continued. "I know many of you saw the news last night. I want to make it clear that no one, and I do mean no one, connected to the school thinks that Counselor Burning is guilty of any crime." He paused to closely scan the crowd, and Emily wondered if he was looking for Mr. Barnes. "However, the fact remains that we don't know Ms. Burning's whereabouts at this time. We have brought in several grief counselors for anyone who wishes to speak with them." He motioned to a row of men and women standing at the far end of the gymnasium. "I am truly sorry for the loss of our beloved coach. He was a good man. School will let out at noon tomorrow for his memorial service, as I assume many of you will want to attend. Any questions?"

Nathan, an avid football player and one of Emily's students, raised a tentative hand. When Principal Matthews called on him, he had to fight to keep his voice steady as he stood and asked, "What about our season? What do we do without Coach?"

Principal Matthews motioned to someone in the front row, and Assistant Coach Jerry Bly stood up. "Coach Bly will be taking over."

The young coach stepped up the podium and addressed his players. "I'm not even going to attempt the fill the shoes left behind by Coach Layton, but I do know that he would want you all to finish out the season, so let's do our best for him." A few halfhearted cheers greeted Bly's words. He continued, "Out of respect for Coach Layton's memorial, we will not be playing this Friday night. Practices will resume their normal schedule starting on Monday."

As Emily watched the newly promoted coach take his seat, she noticed Stevie a few rows below her. Even from her position, Emily could see that he was battling tears. Her heart broke for him. She once again made a mental note to call his mom during her conference period to reschedule their meeting. After a few more questions from students, Principal Matthews dismissed the group to head back to class.

It was a solemn group that moved through the halls. Emily passed by the side stairs and took the long way around so as to avoid the copy room. She still hadn't made copies of that quiz, but she didn't think the students were really up for one anyway. Emily sent a few students at a time to talk with the waiting grief counselors throughout the class period. Wanting to give the students an additional outlet for their confusion and sadness, she let the students spend the class period journaling about their reactions to losing Coach, Counselor Burning's disappearance, or anything else that came to mind. The same pattern continued with each class until lunch. Emily had been relieved to get out of her classroom, but she found that the same oppressive air weighed down the teachers' lounge also. Emily raised her eyebrows at Tad. He got the hint, and they slipped out of the lounge to eat in Tad's room instead.