Schooled in Murder (24 page)

“Why?”

“You know why.”

“Being gay?”

“Not just being gay. That you are comfortable being gay. You are out of the closet. You aren’t dying from some dreadful disease. You aren’t suicidal. You don’t party until you puke. You are what they might consider normal if they didn’t hate you so much. They don’t like you because you have a successful lover who is an attractive man. They don’t like you because they don’t have power over you. They can’t bully you or intimidate you.”

Scott said, “But they can’t discriminate. That’s illegal.”

Abbot said, “They’re trying to get Tom accused of murder–at the very least, ruin your reputation.”

I said, “Do they teach being a moronic bully in some administrative class at some university?”

Meg said, “Probably only at the PhD level.”

“Why?” I asked.

Scott said, “Remember what Larry Kramer said in that recent speech? They all hate us.”

“But everyone doesn’t,” I said.

“But these people do,” Abbot said. “They really do.”

I said, “They’re the bosses. They have power over me.”

“But that’s not how they see it,” Abbot said. “They are angry because they can’t make you respect them.”

“I don’t respect them.”

“Exactly. They know you have disdain for them. They feel that spreads among the staff and hurts their power over them. If you can disdain them, ignore them, not take them seriously, laugh at them, they don’t have power over you, and they have less power over the others. It’s that way with lots of bosses.”

“I guess I knew some of these things, sort of,” I said, “but I’m seldom aware of them on a conscious level, certainly not of how much of a danger Bochka, Graniento, Spandrel, and Towne are to me.”

The assistant superintendent said, “They are a distinct danger. They planned to come up with every suspicion possible they could about you and give it to the police.”

“Were there a lot of those?”

“They didn’t let me in on the final meetings. I’m in on many of them, but not all. They think I’m one of them. I’ve never spoken up against what they do. I’m a coward.”

I said, “Friday night before I had a confrontation with Spandrel and Bochka, Spandrel was fighting with someone. I couldn’t tell who it was.”

“Graniento, the principal. I don’t know what was going on, but there is now some kind of bad blood between them.”

I wished I knew what that was. I asked, “Has Bochka met with the suckups?”

“They all meet and plan together. Eberson, Higden,
Pinyon, Schaven, Spandrel, Bochka, Towne, Graniento. They are endlessly plotting. Even when something could be done simply, they come up with convoluted methods of doing things and complex ways to implement them.”

Scott asked, “Were the teachers in on plotting to get Tom accused of murder?”

“Except for the teacher who actually told, I don’t think so.”

“That had to be one of the people you just mentioned.” “Probably, but not necessarily,” she said. “Any non-tenured teacher they could bully would do.”

“They’re nuts,” Scott said.

“Why are you coming to me now?” I asked. “What happened after we talked Friday morning?”

“They want you fired. They will tell any lie. This is a further warning.”

“Maybe I should assume your meeting with me is part of their conspiracy.”

She drew back and breathed hard for several moments. “I suppose I deserve that.”

“Will you help me expose them?”

“I can’t. I’ll lose my job.”

I said, “I won’t stoop to their level. I’m not going to threaten to tell them you told me if you don’t help me. I won’t. I promise. You’ve tried to help, but I’m not like them. I won’t become like them.”

Abbot said, “Maybe you’ll have to, to win. I wanted to warn you to help my own conscience.”

“But your conscience doesn’t go so far as to try to expose them or put a stop to them?” Meg asked.

“If there was a way to do it without me losing my job, I’d do it. I swear I would.”

I asked, “How did this get started?”

“Bochka began it.”

I said, “She’s already an all-powerful school board president. What more does she want?”

“But don’t you see?” Abbot said. “She isn’t all-powerful. That’s one of the things that pisses her off.”

Meg said, “Does she want tanks and guns and torture and prisons? The board does her bidding in a heartbeat. How is she not all-powerful?”

Abbot said, “She keeps making promises to her friends in the community. One parent or a group comes to her, and Bochka makes a promise to get a thing done. Then another group comes, and she makes a different promise to them. Sometimes it doesn’t make a difference who she promises what to, but sometimes the promises are contradictory or just silly or stupid. Towne, as superintendent, gets driven nuts. Bochka calls and gives a command, and Towne is supposed to obey. We all are. I have heard that her style has finally begun to catch up with her. She may have a lot of opposition in the next school board election. She’s petrified of that. She’s worried about losing her position.”

“But it’s only a small district,” I said. “Why does she care so much?”

“She’s ambitious. I’ve heard her talk about running for the state legislature. Her ego is involved. She’s been a part of this community for thirty years. The funny thing is, I’m not sure she knows what she wants. She mostly waits to react negatively and pick at people. Why do you think some teachers haven’t gotten tenure and others have? Why do you think Jourdan has had so much trouble the past few years? Word came down from on high, and she’s as high as it gets in this district. One of the few people she hasn’t been able to cow or intimidate or make miserable is you.”

“Should I be honored?” I asked.

“Very frightened,” she replied.

Meg asked, “How did you get involved?”

Abbot said, “I got dragged in by Towne. She said she wanted witnesses. I assume to protect herself in some way. She made no objections to any of the proposed schemes. Bochka has hated you for years. Probably since your first public appearance as an openly gay man. That woman would connive at anything. She is mean-spirited and vicious. She’s got a political agenda behind everything she does. I don’t blame her husband for divorcing her. She is vile.”

“If it’s so awful,” I asked, “why don’t you go to another district?”

“I’ve been trying. I’ve only been here a year. It looks odd if you switch jobs after being in one for such a short time. I can’t wait to get out and find a place where real professionals are in charge.”

I said, “I appreciate your coming to me.”

“You’re not going to say anything?”

“I said I wouldn’t, and I always keep faith.”

Meg said, “What do you know about the cheating on the state test results?”

Abbot now began to sweat. She leaned forward and whispered. “We are in so much shit. It’s not just test results. They’ve been faking graduation rates. They’ve been changing grades.”

“´They’ who?”

“All of us. They’ve ordered me to. I had no choice but to comply. Administrators don’t have tenure. These people are ruthless. You know what happens if they don’t keep the test scores and the graduation rates up and meet all the guidelines?”

I said, “Not much, as far as I can see.”

“Oh, but yes. Among administrators and on the board it is a big deal. They compare themselves to other districts. And parents go nuts and call to complain about their kids not doing well.”

One of the great lies we’d been told when the new state testing system came out was that the test results would never be used to compare districts or kids.

I said, “The parents could always vote for a referendum. Their kids would get a better quality education.”

Abbot said, “They don’t see a direct connection between a new school and higher scores.”

I said, “It’s new textbooks. It’s better, more up-to-date computers. Did you know one of the science textbooks they use still talks about going to the moon someday?”

Abbot said, “I don’t believe that.”

“I’ve read the passage,” Meg said.

Abbot said, “Parents won’t budge. It’s like they’re spending their own money in the middle of the Great Depression. They just won’t do it, and they will do anything to protect their low taxes.”

Our district was notorious for having the second lowest per-pupil spending among K—12 districts in the state of Illinois. What did they think was going to happen when they didn’t spend any money?

I asked, “Is there some kind of investigation going on?”

“People from the state have been in looking at records. Teachers aren’t supposed to know how to get into the program, but someone’s been leaking information. Bochka and the rest are desperate to find out who. They think it’s you or one of your friends.”

I wasn’t about to reveal the actual source. I said, “I’ve helped a couple teachers who were interested in learning the system. I’ve taught them password controls. We came in before school started last summer.”

“They better not find that out,” Abbot said. “You’ll be blamed for that and everything else. If there’s a union problem, then it’s Tom Mason’s fault. If a teacher disagrees, then it’s Tom Mason who put them up to it.”

“I don’t,” I said.

“But you listen to people. And both factions listen to you. You’ve had more effect on the teachers’ lives in the past few years than these administrators. They hate that. They hate your influence. They hate your untouchability. Do not underestimate their hatred.”

“Who exactly is doing all this hating?”

“Graniento, Spandrel, Towne, Bochka, and I don’t know how many of the teachers in the suckup faction, but my guess is at least three or four. The teachers in general do respect you.”

“Do you have proof of the cheating?” I asked.

Abbot said, “I kept detailed records and logs of times and dates of what I did. I kept printouts before I made changes and after I made changes. I haven’t told anyone that. I’ve made backup copies. If they try to harm me, they will never find all the copies, and my husband has orders about what to do if something happens to me. He’s furious. He says that if I’m in real, physical danger, I should go to the police, or I should quit.”

Meg said, “I’d think about that seriously. Murder has been done.”

Abbot said, “These people are dangerous. These people are insane. If I could find a way out, I’d take it.”

34

Scott and I checked in with Frank Rohde to make sure he wasn’t out on a case. As the new guy in the rotation, he had to work most Sundays. I asked about my car. They didn’t know when I would get it back.

Frank greeted us warmly. A few cops at the desk recognized Scott. He signed autographs. I wanted to tell Frank what I’d learned and find out from him what the police knew. If he told me anything, I had no intention of revealing it to those disparate factions who’d asked desperately for me to get them information.

Rohde said, “I used to spend Sundays with the kids. I’m not sure this is such a good thing. Pay is better.”

We chatted briefly, then I filled him in on what I knew. As I spoke, the only thing I left out was Abbot’s name. I ended with the big question. “Who told Gault and Vulmea that I was outside that door at 4:45? That is not true. I was petrified I’d be arrested.”

“It’s your word against your accuser. They do need confirmation from at least one more person. They don’t have
a second person. It’s tough to get two people to tell the exact same lie.”

I said, “I’ve seen it happen.”

“Maybe they haven’t worked it out,” Scott said. “Yet.”

Rohde said, “They can’t keep coming up with a string of witnesses at their convenience. It looks too odd. ´Oh, by the way, I was there, too, saw the same thing, and decided not to say anything because I didn’t think you were interested.’ ”

Scott said, “I can imagine one of them saying that kind of thing.”

Rohde said, “But it’s got to be believable.” “You really don’t know?” I asked.

He gazed at me evenly. We’d been friends for a number of years. We’d done some good things with a lot of tough kids. We’d had some spectacular failures. But he was a cop and I was a civilian. Had I gone too far? He said, “Tom, if I knew and I told you, what would you do?”