Putting on the Dog (30 page)

Then again, Ms. Pruitt’s definition of “bad rubbish” could very well be different from mine. Maybe Chess’s unforgivable offense had been nothing worse than organizing a Gay Pride parade or showing up at the Senior Prom in drag.

While I was sitting in my car, cell phone in hand, I decided to try the police again. First I dialed the East Brompton Police Department.

“Hello, this is Jessica Popper.” I fought the temptation to add the word “again.” “I’ve already left a couple of messages, but—”

“You mean, you
still
haven’t heard back?” The woman at the other end of the line sounded accusing, as if somehow it had been
my
fault.

“No, I haven’t,” I told her politely. “I wouldn’t keep calling if I didn’t—”

“I’ll leave Sergeant Bangs a message,” she interrupted crossly. “That’s really all I can do. It’s not up to me whether or not he returns his calls.”

“We live to serve,” I muttered into the phone. Fortunately, she’d already hung up.

I closed my eyes, leaned my head back against the front seat, and pushed a tremendous amount of air out through my lungs in what turned into a loud, frustrated sigh. But instead of feeling defeated, I felt a renewed sense of purpose. I poked at the buttons of my cell phone again, this time dialing Norfolk County Homicide.

“Homicide,” a deep male voice answered flatly. “Officer Bongiovanni speaking.”

“This is Dr. Jessica Popper,” I said crisply. “I have some information about the death of Devon Barnett in East Brompton. I’d like to speak to someone—”

“I’ll have to take your name and number.” I wondered if Officer Bongiovanni had attended the same charm school as the woman who answered the phone for the East Brompton Police. “There’s nobody here right now to take your call.”

“Nobody
there
?” What did the Norfolk County Homicide Squad have to do that was more important than investigating murders? I wondered.

Fortunately, Officer Bongiovanni seemed to be in a chatty mood. “There’s a press conference today, over at the courthouse,” he explained. “They got all the TV stations and the newspapers there. They’ll probably be tied up for a while.”

Of course, Lieutenant Falcone wouldn’t miss
that
for the world, I thought wryly. How could the chance to find a killer or two possibly compete with a photo op?

“Let me take your name and number—”

As I recited the information as calmly as I could, I was certain there had to be steam coming out of my ears. In fact, I was surprised the van’s windows didn’t fog up. There
has
to be a way to get Falcone’s attention, I thought. I just haven’t figured out what it is yet.

As I pulled into the parking lot of Suzanne’s office in Poxabogue, I glanced at my watch and saw it was getting late. If I was going to get back to the dog show in time to meet Emily and my dogs right after the lunch break, I had to hustle.

I rushed inside and found a waiting room full of clients and their pets. My frenzied state elicited near-hysteria from a tiny Pekingese, who barked at me shrilly from the safety of his owner’s designer pocketbook. The immense Rottweiler next to him just eyed me, as if he knew he didn’t have to work quite as hard to show us all who was really boss.

Shelley was standing at the receptionist’s desk, perusing the papers in a folder. She brightened when she spotted me.

“Hi, Jessie,” she greeted me. “I’m afraid Suzanne’s with a client right now. But if you can wait—”

“That’s okay. I’m just here to pick up a fax.”

She looked at me strangely. “I was wondering what that was all about.”

The expression on her face warned me that I’d better brace myself. And as she handed me several pages held together with a paper clip, I thought I was prepared for anything.

But I could practically feel my eyes popping out of my head as I read the headline that screamed at me from the front page of the
Sweet Elm Examiner:

SWEET ELM STUDENT QUESTIONED
IN ENGLISH TEACHER’S MURDER

Chapter 13

“When the mouse laughs at the cat, there’s a hole nearby.”

—Nigerian proverb

Are you okay, Jessie?” Shelley asked, her face tense with concern.

I just nodded, unable to respond.

“Do you want some water?”

“No, thanks. But is there someplace quiet I can sit for a few minutes while I read through this?”

“Sure. There’s a bench in the back room, where we store supplies,” she replied, pointing. “No one will bother you there.”

Clutching the stack of papers in my hand, I dashed to the back room and sank onto the wooden bench I found pushed into a corner. I sorted through the pages, putting them in order. I had a feeling I was about to read quite a story, and I wanted to reconstruct the events exactly as they’d occurred.

I noted that the newspapers they’d been copied from were ten years old, with dates that ran from April to May. I started with page one.

SWEET ELM TEACHER MISSING

A Sweet Elm High School English teacher is missing, according to Sheriff Clarence Colby of the Sweet Elm Police Department. Sheriff Colby reported that the school principal, Marion Carson, contacted the Sweet Elm Police Department at approximately 4:15 P.M. on Monday and reported that no one had heard from Edmund Sylvester, 32, since the previous Friday afternoon, when he left the building for the day.

Sylvester, a native of Ernst, Kansas, has been teaching at Sweet Elm High School for three years. He previously taught at schools in Kingsboro, Ohio, East Stonington, Nebraska, and Kirby, Illinois. In addition to teaching English, he runs the Drama Club after school. Two years ago, he instituted an annual school trip to New York City so his students could see plays performed by professional actors.

Sheriff Colby told the
Sweet Elm Examiner,
“Everybody in this town knows the worst thing that ever happens around here is that somebody runs the stop light at the corner of Sweet Elm and Main. At this point, there’s no suspicion of foul play. I have a feeling this Sylvester fellow has simply taken it upon himself to skip town. Maybe he just decided he needed a change of scenery. I guess it’s possible that he’s in some kind of trouble, but as far as I know, it’s not with anybody around here.”

Edmund Sylvester lives alone, and no family members could be located for questioning. Anyone who has any information about his whereabouts is asked to call Sheriff Clarence Colby at the police station.

I checked the date: Friday, April 7. The second article that Ms. Pruitt had faxed, had run the following Friday, in the next edition of the
Sweet Elm Examiner.
This one didn’t make the front page. It had been clipped from page five, where it was wedged between an advertisement for wheelbarrows at Harris Hardware and a coupon from The Butter Barn, two dollars off the “Lip-Smackin’ Rib-Ticklin’ All-You-Can-Eat Breakfast Bar.”

ENGLISH TEACHER STILL MISSING

The plot thickens, I thought, frowning as I skimmed the article.

I was trying to reserve judgment until I got the whole story, but the uncomfortable gnawing feeling I’d had in my stomach ever since Shelley handed me the fax was quickly becoming more intense. The next article, dated exactly two weeks after the newspaper’s initial report of Edmund Sylvester’s disappearance, didn’t help.

ENGLISH TEACHER FOUND MURDERED

The body of Edmund Sylvester was discovered in the woods behind The Butter Barn late Saturday night, according to Sergeant Bradford Beene of the Ardmore County Homicide Squad. Sergeant Beene said yesterday that an autopsy performed by the Ardmore County Medical Examiner, Dr. Jonah Brooks, determined that Sylvester was murdered.

According to the medical examiner’s report, Sylvester had been dead for approximately three weeks. The cause of death was massive head injuries from repeated blows with a large, heavy object. Police have not yet determined the murder weapon.

An investigation is ongoing. Anyone who has any information is asked to contact the Ardmore County Homicide Squad at 555-3000.

I swallowed, which wasn’t easy. My mouth was so dry that even the metallic taste was gone. I already knew the saga of Mr. Sylvester wasn’t leading anyplace good—and that sooner or later Chess LaMont was going to appear as one of the players.

I didn’t have to wait much longer. The next article, the fourth, was the one whose headline had originally caught my eye. I forced myself to read it slowly so I wouldn’t miss a single word.

SWEET ELM STUDENT QUESTIONED IN ENGLISH TEACHER’S MURDER

A 17-year-old high school senior is among the suspects that Ardmore County Police have identified in the murder of Sweet Elm High School English teacher Edmund Sylvester. Chester Montgomery, a student at the school, was brought in for questioning on Tuesday, but was later released, Sergeant Bradford Beene of the Ardmore County Homicide Squad said.

“We’ve been questioning people at the school and around town, and we’ve learned that Mr. Montgomery and Mr. Sylvester had a very close relationship,” Sergeant Beene stated. “Sources close to the investigation say the two were inseparable.” He added that the police have been focusing on Montgomery since two teachers at the school came forward and said they overheard a heated argument between Sylvester and Montgomery on Friday night. According to the two witnesses, the argument ended with a threat. Sylvester and Montgomery were subsequently seen leaving school together in Sylvester’s car.

Students at Sweet Elm High School were stunned to hear that a fellow student was being questioned by police. Another student in the Drama Club, who wished to remain anonymous, said, “Mr. Sylvester and Chester spent a lot of time together after school, discussing plays and talking about Chess’s aspirations of moving to New York and doing something creative. I used to see them together all the time, driving around in Mr. Sylvester’s car and taking walks on the trails behind the stores. Chester really liked Mr. Sylvester. I can’t imagine why he would want to hurt him.”

My mouth was dryer than ever. But as I turned the page, I noticed my hands were clammy. The next article was dated a week later.

JUDGE’S SON PROVIDES ALIBI FOR SWEET ELM STUDENT

Sergeant Bradford Beene of the Ardmore County Homicide Squad has announced that Chester Montgomery is no longer a suspect in the murder of Edmund Sylvester. According to Sergeant Beene, a classmate at Sweet Elm High School, Ted Welling, came forward to provide Montgomery with an alibi for the weekend that Sylvester is believed to have been murdered.

Ted Welling, the son of Judge Theodore Welling of the U.S. Court of Appeals in Iowa City, told police that he and Montgomery spent the entire weekend at the Welling family’s house at Shimmering Lake. According to Sergeant Beene, Welling said that Montgomery had not been out of his sight the entire weekend, from the time that Edmund Sylvester dropped him off at his house shortly after school ended on Friday until Monday morning, when the two boys returned to Sweet Elm and went straight to school.

Ted Welling’s parents, Judge Welling and his wife Juliana, were out of town that weekend, vacationing at a golf resort. But Judge Welling told police he had no reason to doubt his son’s claims.

“I stand by the statement I made to the police, that Teddy is a boy of integrity,” Judge Welling told the
Sweet Elm Examiner.
“The two boys are such close friends. They often spend time together at the cabin, hunting and fishing. It sounds to me like those two rascals were too caught up in enjoying some good, old-fashioned boyish fun to have gotten mixed up in something like this business with Sylvester.”

Sergeant Beene stated, “We are still actively pursuing all leads, and the investigation is ongoing.”

The final article that Ms. Pruitt had faxed over almost seemed like an afterthought.

MURDER WEAPON FOUND

An extensive search of the home of Edmund Sylvester, the Sweet Elm High School English teacher who was recently murdered, uncovered what police believe to have been the murder weapon. Sergeant Bradford Beene of the Ardmore County Homicide Squad said that on Wednesday, police discovered traces of blood that matched Sylvester’s on a book they found in his study.

According to Sergeant Beene, police determined that a large, heavy book,
The Plays of William
Shakespeare,
had blood on the left corner, and that the cover was dented. “Forensics matched the blood to that of Mr. Sylvester,” Sergeant Beene said. “No fingerprints belonging to Mr. Sylvester or any other person were found on the book, which leads us to believe that either the weapon was wiped clean of prints or that the perp wore gloves.”

Although no one has been charged at this time, Sergeant Beene said the investigation is ongoing.

As I read the final words of the last article, I felt completely drained. From what I could tell, Edmund Sylvester’s murder had never been solved. Yet it was possible—maybe even likely—that Chester Montgomery, a.k.a. Chess LaMont, had been responsible.

Even I could see that his alibi was weak. A close friend—and I could only imagine
how
close—had come forth and claimed that Chess had been with him the entire weekend. Yet from what I could tell, no one had actually seen them together.

The likelihood of intrigue springing from a love triangle between Chess, Ted Welling, and Mr. Sylvester was impossible to ignore. And it would have been so easy for Ted Welling to lie. The boy who’d provided Chess with an alibi was the son of a judge, a man whom the residents of Sweet Elm undoubtedly respected. The idea of the police or anyone else calling his son a liar was probably unthinkable.

Then there was Ms. Pruitt’s take on the whole thing. From her attitude, it was clear she thought Chess was guilty. Of course, she could have simply been expressing antigay sentiments. But another possibility was that, as someone who knew the town of Sweet Elm well, someone who had watched Chess grow up and had access to town gossip, she was simply forming a knowledgeable opinion.