1 Catered to Death (7 page)

“I don’t understand your point, sir, but we have to go by the rules.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve apologized. “My wife catered the lunch and when she called and said that there had been a murder at the school I naturally rushed down here to make sure she was safe. I’m sure you can understand that.”

“Of course, but we’ll still have to ask you to leave.”

“May I leave too?” I asked, still clutching Steve’s arm tightly.

“Not quite yet but it shouldn’t take much longer.”

“Who was killed, officer?” Steve questioned.

Officer Austin didn’t respond. “Please leave and we’ll be releasing your wife real soon. Thank you for your cooperation. You can wait in the hallway until we’re done with your wife.”

“Officer, I must talk to you immediately!” Claudine came over and yanked at the police officer’s arm. “I feel faint and I need medical assistance now. This has been such a traumatic experience for me—I really feel quite unwell.”

“Of course, ma’am.” Officer Austin and Claudine moved a few feet away. Steve seized the moment to ask me again, “Are you sure you’re all right?”

I nodded. “I’m OK. When do you think they’ll let me leave?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been around a real murder investigation before. Who was that?”

“The redhead? She’s a teacher at Eden Academy. Her name is Claudine Markham.”

“She looks pretty shaken up.”

“From what I gathered, she was very close to Frank Ubermann—the man who was murdered. Actually, she’s the one who hired me to cater the lunch.” I felt my lower lip start to tremble. “Oh, Steve, I think I should have chosen another career path to follow. This whole thing is a nightmare!”

Steve held my arms firmly and used the no-nonsense voice he always used during a family crisis. “DeeDee, you’re catering the lunch today has nothing to do with the murder. It isn’t like they used your seafood casserole to choke someone.”

“No,” I agreed. “The seafood casserole was really quite a hit with most of the staff.”

“See? You did the right thing by choosing to go into catering. Now tell me fast before the junior cop gets back: who did you say was killed?”

“Frank Ubermann. I met him this afternoon. He seemed nice. Well, sort of nice in an oily kind of way.”

“Was he a teacher?”

“No, he’s the head of the school, like a principal only they call him a director instead. Or a dictator. That’s what I heard a teacher call him this afternoon—before he got murdered.”

“And you said he was shot, right?”

I nodded.

“Who shot him?”

“I don’t know.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “You didn’t see it happen?”

“No, it was down in the gym in the basement. We were on the first floor.”

“Thank God for that. Did you hear the gun go off?”

DeeDee shook her head. “He wasn’t shot with a gun.”

Steve frowned. “He wasn’t shot with a gun? Then what was he shot with?”

“An arrow.”

“An arrow? As in a bow and arrow?”

“Yes. There’s an archery thing set up in the basement. Frank was down there getting supplies for his camping trip when––”

“Now you’re really going to have to leave, sir.” Officer Austin was back without Claudine. “Please wait outside for your wife. This shouldn’t take too much longer.”

“I’m sorry. Of course. Dee Dee, I’ll be in the hallway.”

Watching Steve leave the room was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I know our friends all think that we’re overly dependent on each other but at that moment, it was like watching my oxygen supply get cut off. Fortunately, after another ten minutes of sitting in the lounge, I was told I could go.

The hallway was beginning to fill with other people. While I was searching for Steve I recognized a local news anchor from the tiny station in town.

“What’s going on in there?” the anchor asked. “Who was murdered? Do you know?”

“I don’t think I should say anything,” I replied, looking past his shoulder for my husband.

“Are you a teacher at Eden Academy?”

“No…”

“Do you work here?”

“No…”

“Are you with the police department?”

“No…” I could see the impatience growing in the reporter’s face.

“Then who are you?”

“DeeDee Pearson. I catered a lunch at Eden Academy today.”

The anchor’s interest returned. “Did you witness the murder? Did it happen during the lunch you catered?”

“No!”

The interest faded away. “Isn’t there anyone around who can give me something I can use?” he semi-whined, looking down the hallway. “I’ve got a deadline coming up and so far I’ve got zilch to go on.”

“I’m sure if you give it a few minutes the police will tell you something.”

The anchor smirked. “Like those boneheads know anything. The Kemper PD had better start watching
CSI
reruns fast before they blow it.”

“DeeDee!” Steve came out of the crowd.

“The police said I could go but I still need to pack up all of my things,” I told him. “Everything’s ready to go, I just need to put it in the van.”

“I’ll help you,” Steve volunteered. “Then let’s get out of here.”

“Look, DeeDee,” the anchor said impatiently as Steve and I started to walk away. “You should let me interview you. This could be some good free publicity for you.”

“Being part of a crime scene?” I asked doubtfully.

“Hey, you’re in business so you should know that you’ve got to take publicity where you can find it. Now can you just please tell me what happened?”

“I’m afraid I don’t really know what happened. The lunch ended around three o’clock. I was upstairs cleaning up after everyone left when suddenly one of the teachers screamed that someone was dead.”

“Who?” the reporter asked.

“That’s what I asked. ‘Who?’ The teacher said it was Frank so I knew it was Frank Ubermann.”

“Frank Ubermann, Eden Academy’s director?” The anchor’s face lit up. “Phew! I was afraid it was going to be some nobody but this is good. Do you have any idea of what happened?”

“Not really––”

Steve took me firmly by the elbow and steered me back toward the lounge. “You don’t have to talk to him right now,” he said. “You probably shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because we don’t know what’s OK to say and what isn’t. Someone died, honey, and you were there. It’s best to keep our mouths shut right now.”

“DeeDee, I just have a few more questions for you,” the anchor called after us.

“Not now,” Steve said over his shoulder.

“You’re being very uncooperative!” the anchor shouted.

Steve ignored him.

“You’re probably right,” I whispered as we hurried down the hall. “I don’t have a clue as to what I’m supposed to do or say. It’s not like I’ve ever been in this kind of situation before.”

We returned to the staff lounge where the police were still talking to several staff members. “What should I do?” Steve asked.

“If you want to put everything into those boxes that would be great.”

Steve began to fill the boxes with utensils, plates and silverware. “DeeDee, what did happen?” he asked in a low voice as he bundled together the linen napkins. “How did that Ubermann guy get shot with an arrow?”

“He teaches archery twice a week in the basement,” I explained. “That’s what one of the teachers told me. They’ve got a section all set up with targets and everything. Someone used a bow and arrow from the class and shot him.”

Steve winced. “That had to hurt. Do they know who did it?”

“No clue. At least, not that I know of.”

“Who came up and told you about the murder?”

“Claudine, the redhead who was talking to that baby-faced police officer. You should have seen her, Steve. She looked like all the blood had drained out of her body her face was so white.”

“Did she find him?”

“I’m not sure. I guess so—I don’t really know what happened. All I know is that Claudine came in here screaming and then everything seemed to hit the fan at once. It was like being in a kaleidoscope—people were flying in and out of the room like they were in a turbine or something.”

“Are you ready, honey? We should go home so you can get some rest.”

“I’m all set,” I told him, picking up a plate of food that I’d wrapped in Saran Wrap. “But I don’t want to rest. I’d like a glass of wine—a very
big
glass of wine. Huge. Maybe a whole bottle.”

“Who is that for?” Steve asked, gesturing toward the plate.

“The school’s receptionist. She wasn’t invited to the luncheon, can you believe it?
 
They were having a party and didn’t even ask her to join them.”

“Why not?”

“Because she’s an hourly worker. There’s some kind of caste system in place here with the hourly employees at the very bottom. The two groups don’t mix, apparently. I asked if I should go get her when the luncheon started but everyone looked at me like I’d just suggested that they invite the local leper or something so I promised myself that I’d bring her a plate of food after the lunch was over.”

“That was very nice of you, DeeDee.”

“It’s not much but at least she won’t feel left out,” I replied.

“Let’s drop the plate off and go.
 
I’ve had enough of this place.”

“Me too,” I quickly agreed. “As a matter of fact, if I never come to Eden Academy again, it will be too soon.”

Chapter Six

Steve and I walked back down the hallway, me clutching at his arm with one hand like I was about to be blown away by a hurricane and holding the plate of food for Ruth Sparrow with my other hand. That was exactly how I felt—like he’d rescued me from the path of an oncoming train. Steve’s arm felt very nice under my hand, muscled and warm and very strong. I’d always known that I needed my husband but it wasn’t until that afternoon that I discovered what a rock he really was. “What a nightmare,” I said, still holding onto him. The anchor from the television station had vanished along with the other people who had been milling about.

Steve squeezed my hand. “It’s OK now. You’re OK.” He was pulling a cart behind him that was filled with my catering supplies. Looking at the assortment of boxes and bowls, it seemed next to impossible to me that just a few hours ago I had brought the same supplies to Eden Academy, never dreaming that an honest-to-goodness nightmare was about to happen after I served lunch.

“I wonder where everyone went.”

“Maybe they’re downstairs,” Steve said, looking back over one shoulder. “This is quite a school. It sure doesn’t look like the high school Jane and Tyler went to. Although it is kind of rundown looking.”

“Believe me, our kids did way better with a public education,” I assured him. “The teachers here are something else. I can’t imagine when they get around to doing any actual teaching, they were so busy throwing barbs at each other and complaining.”

Steve shook his head. “There are pluses to not being wealthy. I wonder how long it will take the police to figure out who killed Frank Ubermann. Our police force doesn’t have a lot of experience with murder but they should be able to nail whoever did it fairly quickly. They got here right after it happened and that has to help. The murderer couldn’t have gotten too far away in that small amount of time.”

I shuddered. “Good Lord, a murderer, right here in Kemper. I didn’t think things like that happened in towns like this one.”

“Murder can happen anywhere,” Steve said grimly. “I’m just thankful that you weren’t more involved, but it still makes me sick that you were here when it happened.”

“I feel plenty involved as it is. Here’s the receptionist’s office,” I said when we reached the front of the school.

Steve left the cart in the hallway and then we entered a tiny, windowless room that seemed even smaller due to a long counter that divided the front of the office from the rear and the drab brown paint on the walls. A woman was sitting slumped over her desk surrounded by wads of used Kleenex and stacks of papers. A brass nameplate on the desk read RUTH SPARROW.

The woman looked up when we came in and I could see that her brown eyes were red-rimmed and teary. “May I help you?” she asked in a strained voice as she dabbed at her nose.

“I’m DeeDee Pearson and this is my husband, Steve,” I said. “I catered the luncheon today. I meant to come down and introduce myself to you earlier but I didn’t get a chance what with setting up and everything.”

“How did you get in the building when you got here?” Ruth asked suspiciously, straightening up and looking at me like I was an escapee from the women’s prison located about one hundred miles away. “All the doors should have been locked except for the front door and then I would have seen you.”

“I met one of the teachers—Jack Mulholland—in the parking lot and he let me in the back door. I hope that was all right.”

“Oh, sure. That’s fine.” Ruth slumped down in her desk again. “I was just thinking that if one of the outside doors was unlocked that might have been how the murderer got in and killed Frank.” Tears spilled out of her eyes and down her cheeks. She wiped them off and looked at us apologetically. “I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to be such a mess but this whole thing still seems unreal to me. It’s a wide awake nightmare.”

“Yes, it is,” I said sympathetically. “It’s all so dreadful. I can’t believe anything that’s happened this afternoon. It is a nightmare for everyone here. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Ruth’s forehead wrinkled. “Loss?”

“Your boss being murdered,” I elaborated.

“Well, thank you. And don’t worry about not coming down here earlier. You obviously didn’t know that you were supposed to check in with me. I’m sorry I didn’t come and introduce myself to you but Claudine is very strict about that. She wants someone in this office at all times to answer the phone and that someone is me. She doesn’t think it gives a good impression of the school if an answering machine picks up instead of a human being.”

I saw Steve glance around the tiny room that looked more like a telephone booth than an office. “You never get a break?” he asked. That didn’t sound legal.

“Well, I’m allowed to leave for lunch if it’s OK with Claudine.”

“What about bathroom breaks?” I questioned.

Ruth shrugged. “I try to limit my fluid intake as much as possible.”

I’d never be able to handle Ruth’s job since I have a bladder the size of a walnut. I handed her the plastic-covered plate. “I wanted to bring you something from Junebug’s luncheon. I’m—I’m sorry you couldn’t make it this afternoon. It was a lovely party,” I added, hoping that God wouldn’t strike me dead for telling such a huge lie in a building that used to house a Catholic school.

Ruth looked confused. “Thank you for the food but there’s no reason for you to be sorry that I wasn’t there. I’m never invited to staff luncheons or any kind of staff function.”

“Aren’t you on the staff?” Steve asked.

“Yes, but I’m an hourly employee,” Ruth explained. “Almost everyone else is salaried.”

I shot Steve a glance that said
See?
“What difference does that make?” I asked. “You all work for the same school, don’t you?”

 
The expression in Ruth’s brown eyes became bitter. “What ‘difference’ does that make? Only all the difference in the world. The only other hourly employees are the custodian and the bus driver and, believe me, the odds of either of them being invited to any kind of event with the salaried staff is about as likely to happen as George Clooney dropping in this afternoon to take me out for coffee.”

It didn’t take much to remember the shocked expressions on the other staff members faces when I had suggested that I ask Ruth in to join them for a drink of Junebug’s Wild Turkey. If Claudine and Frank and the rest of the teachers had been that surprised by the notion of including the school’s receptionist in one of their functions, I could only imagine their attitude toward the bus driver and the janitor. “That’s too bad,” I said.

Ruth dabbed her nose again. “It doesn’t matter. Here I am sounding all silly over something as trivial as who gets invited to lunch when Frank’s been killed.” She shook her head. “I just can’t believe it. I can’t believe he’s gone. It’s all so awful. I don’t know what we’re going to do without him. I mean, he could be a real pain in the neck to work for, a real micro-manager, if you know what I mean. Always checking my time sheet and making sure I didn’t add an extra five minutes and he was forever looking behind the file cabinets to make sure I dusted back there. Of course, I’d never wish any ill on him. I’d never wish any ill on anyone.”

I believed her. Ruth Sparrow reminded me of the school secretary at the high school that I attended, a sweet and quiet woman who saw at least a little bit of good in everyone, even students who returned from their lunch break an hour late and reeking of pot or booze. “I’m sure that it will take a while for this to sink in for everyone,” I said.

“If it ever does,” Ruth replied. “Frank was one in a million.”

“You should eat something. I brought you seafood casserole with salad and a croissant with herb butter and a brownie.”

“It sounds delicious,” Ruth said sadly, “but I’m not sure I can eat a bite. I’m so upset and whenever I get upset my digestive system flies out the window.”

“Well, maybe you’ll be hungry later. I’ll stop by for the plate and silverware some other time when things aren’t quite so upside down.”

“Thank you.” More tears rolled down Ruth’s cheeks. “Who could have done such a horrible thing?” she asked in a voice that was almost a whisper. “And right under all of our noses. That’s the scariest part of this whole thing. Frank was murdered right under our noses and no one heard a thing. It makes me shiver from the inside out. It could have been any one of us who’d been shot.”

“Who do you think could have done it?” Steve asked.

Ruth shook her head. “I don’t have a clue. I know he wasn’t too popular with some of the staff but I simply can’t imagine any of them murdering him.”

“Maybe it was an outsider,” I suggested. “Perhaps a student?”

“I don’t know. Eden Academy students are of a very high caliber. I only wish the security cameras had been working today. They went on the blink yesterday afternoon. Frank said he called to have a repairman sent out but as far as I know they still aren’t working. Now I have to wonder who will take Frank’s place. He might have been difficult sometimes but if Claudine takes his job I don’t know if I can stand to work for her––” Ruth caught herself and stopped talking. “Thank you again for the food. That was extremely kind and thoughtful of you. You have no idea of how much I appreciate it.”

“Really, it’s nothing,” I told her. I was suddenly overwhelmed with a tidal wave of exhaustion. “I hope you like it.”

“Oh, I’m sure I wil––”

 
“What the hell is going on here?” An enormous woman barged into the office and planted large, square hands on the counter that separated Ruth’s desk from visitors. “What are the police doing here?”

“Oh, Maxi.” Ruth got to her feet and walked to the counter. Steve and I exchanged glances and Steve gestured toward the doorway with his head. I carefully studied the amount of space between Maxi and the door and saw that we were going to be stuck for awhile; Maxi took up most of the room in the small office and if we wanted to leave, we’d have to climb over her to do so. “There’s been a terrible accident,” Ruth started.

“What? Did someone fall down the steps or something? I’ve told that nogoodnick janitor not to wax the stairs but does anyone around this dump ever listen to me? Of course not! That idiot waxes the stairs and never touches the hallways. It makes absolutely no sense!” Maxi had a deep, booming voice that made her sound like she was using a loudspeaker, a sensory sensation that was increased in Ruth’s tiny office.

“No, it wasn’t anything like that. It was Frank––”

Maxi narrowed already small eyes and stared at Ruth from behind pink tinted glasses. “What about Frank?”

“He’s…dead. He died this afternoon.”

Steve and I hugged the wall behind us as we watched the expression on Maxi’s face change from anger to horror. “What are you talking about? I just saw Frank this morning. We went over to the garage to look at the bus and he was perfectly fine. What happened to him? Was it his heart? Did he have a heart condition that I didn’t know about?”

“No, well, sort of.” Ruth shook her hands helplessly in the air. “Oh, I’m so terrible at this! I don’t know how to break the news to anyone. It’s so hard to say…”

Steve stepped forward and took over. “Frank Ubermann was murdered. I’m sorry to have to tell you that.”

Maxi whirled her head and pinned him to the wall with her glare. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Steve Pearson and this is my wife DeeDee.”

Ruth spoke up. “Oh, I’m sorry. Where are my manners? Maxi, DeeDee catered the lunch the teachers had for Junebug today. DeeDee, Steve, Maxi is our bus driver. She’s been getting kids safely to Eden Academy for over two years now.”

“Enough with the PR crap, Ruth,” Maxi barked. “I don’t give a rat’s patooty if she catered lunch for the Pope today! Now tell me how Frank was murdered. Did Jack finally shoot him? He’s been saying that he was going to for years now. Or was it another member of the Frank Ubermann Fan Club?”

“Maxi,” Ruth murmured, “I hardly think this is the appropriate time to talk like that. Frank isn’t even cold.”

Maxi rolled her eyes and then addressed us in a voice that was thick with disdain. “Ruth here is a much nicer person than I am, as you can both probably already see. I don’t believe in calling a spade anything but a spade and Frank Ubermann was a first class louse.”

“You don’t sound too surprised that he was murdered,” Steve observed.

“Surprised?” Maxi laughed shortly. “I’m just surprised that it’s taken this long for it to happen. The man has a list of enemies that’s longer than my arm. To know him was to hate him.”

“Maxi, you’re going too far.”

Maxi turned back to Ruth. “No, Ruth, I’m not and we both know it. So was it Jack?”