Murder Is Our Mascot (6 page)

"How're your students doing?" Emily asked over a mouthful of leftover mashed potatoes from dinner at Gabby's the night before.

"Quiet. Hard to get much done, but I think it's good to at least provide them with some structure." Tad toyed with the pile of grapes he had beside him. "I've been thinking about you and Gabby going to Serenity Falls after school. Do you really think that's a good idea?"

Emily slowly set down her fork. "What exactly are you trying to say, Tad?"

He held up his hands in surrender. "I'm saying that I'm worried. I don't want you to get hurt." Emily could see from the genuine worry in his eyes that he was telling her the truth, but she was afraid that would just have to be Tad's problem. No one told Emily Taylor what to do.

Tad saw the battle light in her eyes. He gave a huge sigh and munched on a grape. "You're going anyway, right?"

"Yep," Emily answered. "Sorry, Tad, but I will not sit back and let someone I care about get blamed for a crime I am positive she didn't commit. Frankly, I'm surprised you'd want me to." Emily wasn't sure if it was anger or disappointment that held the upper hand as she stared a hole through Tad's bent head.

He ate another grape, avoiding her eyes. "I want to find Helen and prove her innocence every bit as much as you do. But this is serious, Em."

"I know that, Tad. But I also know I can take care of myself."

Tad never had time to answer as the bell signaling the end of lunch rang. Emily brooded over what Tad had said throughout her entire next class period. What kind of trouble did he think they might get into? Did he think the murderer was hiding out at a nursing home? That he might throw off his disguise, leap from his borrowed wheelchair, and attack her in plain sight of dozens of witnesses? By the time her conference period rolled around, Emily was positive that Tad's worries were unfounded. Once again determined to get to the bottom of things, Emily pulled up Stevie's contact information and headed to the phone in the lounge. While she couldn't launch her investigation into Helen's disappearance until after school, she could take some steps toward figuring out what was troubling Stevie Davis.

Emily tried the home number that was listed first, but when no one answered, she figured Arlene was probably at work at this time of day. She looked up the number for Masterson Real Estate. The perky secretary who answered told her that Arlene had just left to show a couple a house, but Emily might be able to catch her on her cell phone. Deciding that Stevie's success in school was important enough to bother Arlene while she was working, Emily dialed Arlene's cell. The phone rang and rang. Emily was mentally composing the voice mail message she planned to leave, so she was startled when a harsh voice grated in her ear. "Hello?"

Emily stared at the phone in her hand, checking to make sure she'd dialed the right number. "Arlene Davis?" she asked.

"Yes. Who's this?"

Emily was taken aback. She had the right number, so obviously this was Stevie's mom. Her demeanor over the phone left Emily doubtful as to how much help she could actually provide though.

"Uh, I'm Emily Taylor, your son Stevie's English teacher? We had an appointment to meet the other day, but I had to cancel?" Emily realized all of her sentences were coming out as questions and mentally straightened her spine. She had dealt with rude and unhelpful parents before. She had this. Piece of cake.

"Oh, yes, Ms. Taylor, I meant to call you to reschedule but assumed you would need some time to get back into the swing of things after what happened." Once again, Emily pulled the phone back to stare at it in bewilderment. Gone was the harsh, abrupt woman of moments before. In her place was a solicitous, helpful parent. Emily was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so she plunged ahead.

"We have had a hard day, but I'm even more concerned about Stevie, knowing he was close to Coach Layton. I sense that Stevie has the ability to do the work—he just lacks the motivation. Any chance we could reschedule that meeting for sooner rather than later? Is there a day next week that would work for you?"

"How about tomorrow?" Arlene countered. "My Stevie is truly a brilliant child. I think if we put our heads together, we can figure out a way to motivate him, don't you?" Emily had yet to say a word, but Arlene continued. "Stevie is one in a million. I am truly blessed. I would do anything in my power to help him succeed."

"Great!" Emily was thrilled to hear that Arlene was as concerned about Stevie as she was. "I would be happy to meet with you tomorrow before school."

"I don't think we'll have to cancel for the same reason this time." Arlene tried to laugh, but it was a weak attempt at humor and they both knew it. Arlene tried to cover up her gaff by saying, "I look forward to meeting with you, Ms. Taylor. Stevie loves to read and is an exceptional writer."

"I look forward to hearing more about that," Emily assured her. "Stevie's work and attention have been lackluster in both areas thus far."

"This move has been hard on him. I think maybe—look, I hate to cut you short, but I need to get back to work. See you tomorrow." And with that, Arlene hung up.

Emily was still staring at the phone in her hand like it was a foreign object when Tad sauntered in. "What'd that phone ever do to you?" he asked.

Emily gazed up at him, confusion written all over her face. "I just had the strangest conversation with Arlene Davis. She went from rude to friendly, then when I suggested we meet next week, she wanted to meet tomorrow. We were discussing Stevie when she abruptly said she had to get back to work and hung up."

"So what's so strange about that?" Tad asked, grabbing a soda from the fridge. He waggled one at Emily and she nodded. He joined her at the table, adding, "She was probably meeting clients and had to hang up when they arrived."

It was a reasonable explanation, but Emily couldn't shake the feeling that Arlene Davis had sounded not only busy, but oddly harassed. Maybe she's high strung, she decided as the bell rang, and she and Tad headed back to their respective classrooms to finish up the longest school day in recorded history.

As the final bell of the day rang, Emily pushed and jostled her way out the door right along with the students. She tried to stay in the middle of the pack and walk on her tiptoes so that her heels wouldn't be heard. A few of the students gave her funny looks, but most were more concerned about getting out of school for the day. Emily was hoping for a clean getaway from Tad—she was not in the mood for another lecture. At the top of the back staircase, Emily saw Gabby's maroon minivan idling outside. Taking the stairs two at a time, she charged through the double doors like a running back about to score a goal. She didn't stop sprinting until she was safely in the vehicle, with the door shut and locked, for good measure. She was too busy checking over her shoulder to notice that Gabby was staring at her like she had two heads.

Emily whipped around when she realized they weren't moving. "Go!" she shouted.

Gabby put the minivan in gear but was careful to mind the posted speed limits, as the school resource officer, Deputy Carson, was keeping a sharp eye out. Emily strained against her seat belt as if willing them to move faster.

"Who are you looking for?" Gabby finally asked. "You jumped in here like it was your getaway car. And since I know you didn't rob a bank, am I to assume that you have suddenly joined the cult of minivan lovers?"

Emily shot her an
oh
,
please
look. She and Gabby had always laughed at minivan-driving soccer moms, but as soon as Gabby found out she and Greg were having twins, a minivan seemed to be the only way to go. Gabby had not gone willingly to the dark side at first, clinging to the two-door-sports-car life she had led up to that point. But now, with two car seats strapped in the back, Gabby had embraced the cult wholeheartedly, even down to the little vinyl stick-person family on the back window. Emily loved Gabby and the girls unconditionally, but a minivan? No way. No how.

"For your information, I was trying to avoid having to talk to Tad again today. He thinks we're in over our heads and shouldn't be going out to Serenity Falls."

"Well, tough toenails. We're going anyway." Emily smiled. This was the Gabby she knew, the one who wouldn't let anyone tell her what she could or couldn't do. "And I brought you a snack," Gabby continued.

Emily took in the crushed Cheerios and leftover juice-filled sippy cups behind her and felt her stomach turn over.

"Not back there, silly. Here." Gabby motioned to the console. One would have thought she'd been handed diamonds the way Emily squealed over the large soda with a red straw and the Snickers bar beside it.

She had taken her first gooey bite of chocolate heaven when a thought occurred to her. "Are you bribing me so I'll run with you?" Emily narrowed her eyes at Gabby and took another defiant bite.

"Is it working?" Gabby asked, batting her eyelashes.

"No, and here is where we turn." Emily pointed out the tall stone columns that marked the entrance to Serenity Falls.

Emily took in the massive stone and wood building as Gabby pulled into a parking spot reserved for visitors near the front doors. They both stared out the windshield, awed by the grandeur of the facility. Gabby let loose a low whistle and turned to Emily. "This place looks more like a fancy resort than a nursing home."

Emily nodded in agreement. Even with a name like Serenity Falls, she had pictured a typical single-level, utilitarian-looking facility. In front of her, massive wood beams framed the three-story complex, floor-to-ceiling windows reflecting back the cloudy sky. Emily licked the last of the chocolate from her fingers and shot Gabby a grin. "Let's go check it out."

Gabby practically bounced on her toes as she locked the minivan and fell into step beside her. "Our first mission," she whispered.

Emily smothered a laugh as she pulled open one of the behemoth, carved wooden doors. The lobby they entered was as impressive as the outside suggested. The ceiling soared straight up three floors, skylights flooding the rich, dark wood floors with warmth and light, despite the lack of sunshine outside. A miniature waterfall provided a continuous murmur, inviting visitors to stop and rest in one of the cozy seating areas arranged throughout the large space.

Gabby pulled her toward the highly polished wooden counter discreetly tucked in the opposite corner. Emily checked to make sure her jaw wasn't hanging open as they approached the receptionist, a shy-looking blonde with large, round glasses, who asked, "Welcome to Serenity Falls. How may I assist you today?"

Emily checked the blonde's name tag and replied, "Hi, Shelley. We're friends of Helen Burning. As you may have heard on the news last night, it appears Helen is missing. I know she visited her mother here every day, so I was wondering if anyone had seen her recently."

Shelley's hair fell over one eye as she shook her head. With an impatient gesture, she jerked a hair band off her wrist and twisted her hair back. "No," she told them as she worked on securing her ponytail. "I haven't seen her the last two days, and I've been working both afternoons. She always comes by after school and sometimes before school as well. I checked with Jan, the one who works mornings," she explained, "and she hasn't seen her either." Shelley pushed her glasses up on her nose, looking worried. "Where is she?"

Gabby reached over and patted her hand. "We're not sure. But we'll find her. I promise."

Emily nodded gamely, but she didn't feel half the assurance Gabby displayed. "I take it this is unusual behavior for Helen?"

"Absolutely!" Shelley was emphatic. "Mrs. Quinton is the most visited patient we have. Helen dotes on her mother. Yesterday was one of Mrs. Quinton's good days, and she kept coming up to ask when her daughter would be here. It broke my heart." Shelley tugged at a loose thread on her turquoise cardigan.

"Would it be okay if we visited Mrs. Quinton?" Gabby asked.

Shelley brightened at the suggestion but was quick to add, "Today has not been one of her better days. Still, I'm sure she'd appreciate the visit." Shelley directed them toward a hallway farther past the receptionist's counter. Mrs. Quinton had a room on the first floor, facing the back grounds. Emily and Gabby found her sitting in a comfortable armchair in front of a big picture window that overlooked a much larger version of the waterfall from the lobby. Its muted crash was a soothing sound. Gabby knocked gently on the open doorframe, and they were waved forward by an imperious-looking hand. As they entered, Emily saw that Mrs. Quinton was working on a complicated jigsaw puzzle of Big Ben. The elderly woman fit her piece in place and smiled triumphantly up at them. "Well, don't just stand there," she commanded them. "Pull up a couple of chairs." They did just that, taking in the separate bedroom and bath as well as the small electric fireplace glowing in the corner. Emily's mind boggled at what it must cost to live here—surely more than she could make in a year. As an only child, she hoped her parents didn't expect to end up somewhere like this if they needed assisted living. They'd have to settle for her tiny spare bedroom.

Gabby chatted with Mrs. Quinton about her puzzle. Apparently, Mrs. Quinton had spent some time living in London when she was a newlywed. Emily tried not to be jealous, looking at where the dignified older woman was now. Mrs. Quinton reminded Emily of an old-fashioned schoolmarm. Her white hair was wound in a neat bun. A pair of half spectacles dangled from a chain around her neck, and she sat ramrod straight, both of her orthopedic shoes planted firmly on the carpet. Despite the warmth of the room, Mrs. Quinton had an afghan over her legs and a sweater thrown over her shoulders. Emily listened to Gabby engage the woman in further conversation, searching for a place to bring up the topic of Helen. Mrs. Quinton, however, took the matter into her own hands. Looking right at Emily, she said, "Helen, you've put on some weight. I thought you were taking up running."

Gabby smothered a laugh with a cough. Emily struggled not to be insulted. She could see where Mrs. Quinton might confuse her with her daughter. They both had cropped, brunette hair and were short in stature. Emily had to grudgingly admit that Helen was skinnier than her due to the fact that she was, indeed, an avid runner. Helen also sported a pixie cut rather than Emily's longer bob and was more than twenty-some years older, but Emily decided it would be easier to go with it rather than try to correct Mrs. Quinton. She didn't want to confuse her further. "I'm sorry, Mother. Work has been piling up. I'll start running more soon."