1 Catered to Death (8 page)

“We don’t know who it was.”

“Was he shot?”

“Yes, but not with a gun. Someone shot him with a bow and arrow.”

Maxi laughed again. “Now I’ve heard everything.” She shook her head. “Well, well, well, I’d call that poetic justice. The Nature Boy was hoisted by his own petard. He always said he wanted to die when he was out in the wilderness. I suppose this is a close second.”

“Oh, Maxi,” Ruth said sorrowfully.

“Don’t hand me that ‘oh, Maxi’ crap. I’m sorry he had to go that way but I can’t say I’m sorry that he’s gone. He was a terrible boss.” Looking over Ruth’s shoulder, she spied the plate of food DeeDee had set on Ruth’s desk. “There’s a perfect example of Frank’s pitiful leadership. They had a lunch today and they didn’t invite me. They never invite me.”

“I wasn’t invited either,” Ruth pointed out. “You know how it is, Maxi.”

“Yeah, I know how it is and it sucks.” Maxi began to leave the office. “I can’t believe it! That bastard chewed me out but good today and I was just coming back to give him some tit for tat and he had the nerve to die on me. Brother!”

We watched as Maxi marched out of the school’s front door letting the heavy metal door slam soundly shut behind her. Ruth sighed. “She doesn’t mean that,” she told us. “Really, she’s not nearly as hard as she sounds. I’m sure she’s just as shocked by Frank’s death as anyone else but someone like Maxi just isn’t going to let it show.”

“I’m sure she is,” I said. “We should go.” Nudging Steve, I led the way out of the receptionist’s office, leaving Ruth Sparrow alone. We walked slowly down the hallway, not talking to each other until we had safely reached the door. I don’t know why but I had the distinct impression that the walls at Eden Academy had ears. “Let’s put all this stuff in my car and then I’ll walk you to yours,” Steve said once we were outside. “I don’t want to let you out of my sight after what just happened.

I followed Steve to his car, feeling like I weighed about a thousand pounds. “One minute Frank was eating my seafood casserole and the next minute he was dead. Life is way too unpredictable. Here one second and gone the next. I hate it.”

Steve reached for my hand and held it tightly. “Try not to think about it right now,” he suggested.

“What else can I possibly think about?”

“Anything else. Your next catering job. Jane’s birthday present. Tyler’s fruitless job hunt.” Steve efficiently stowed everything I’d brought with me in the back of his car. “Are you all right to drive?”

“I’m fine but let’s get home as soon as we can. I’m feeling kind of shaky.”

Chapter Seven

“Ruth has a point,” Steve said to me an hour later. We were sitting in our usual spots in the family room, Steve in his red and blue plaid recliner that is becoming more and more of an eyesore with each passing year and me in my cream colored one that is truly the most comfortable spot on the planet. We tend to end each day in the family room with either cups of herbal tea or a glass of wine for me and a scotch and soda for Steve. This was definitely an occasion that called for a cocktail of the alcoholic variety so I was holding an extra large glass of chardonnay. “Do you mind if we talk about it or will it upset you?”

I shook my head. “We have to talk about it—I have the feeling I’m not going to be able to talk about anything else for a long time. Now what do you mean that Ruth has a point?”

Steve took a sip of scotch before replying, the look on his face thoughtful. “Ruth was right on the money when she said that Frank Ubermann was murdered under everyone’s nose and no one even realized it—except for whoever did it. It takes a lot of nerve to murder someone with so many potential witnesses around. Anyone could have seen the murder happen. Anyone could have walked in on it. That tells me that whoever killed Frank didn’t care if he or she got caught.”

“A crime of passion?” I suggested.

Steve nodded. “But on the other hand, it does seem premeditated. The killer had to know where to find Frank and it had to be someone who worked there if all the outside doors except for the front one were locked.”

“He told everyone that he was heading downstairs,” I said. “Of course, the school’s so small that it wouldn’t be hard to find him even if he hadn’t announced his plans.”

“True,” Steve said thoughtfully. “But it still seems like an inside job to me.”

“It does to me too,” I agreed. “So what you’re saying is that the odds are pretty good that I fed a murderer at lunch today.”

“It looks that way, hon.”

I took a long sip of wine and was glad that Steve had opened a fresh bottle for me. I had the feeling that I just might finish it off before the night was over. I was still feeling shuddery and more than a little creeped out by what had happened that day. It was bad enough to be starting a new career at my age but to have someone murdered at my very first catering gig was the absolute pits. I mean, naturally, I felt terrible for Frank Ubermann and his family but in my heart of hearts I also felt a little terrible for me too. How was I ever going to get a reference after this fiasco?

I pushed my mind away from such selfish thoughts. Someone had died. This wasn’t the time to think about the ramifications on my tiny, fledgling career.

“I know you just met all of the teachers today but did you have a chance to form any kind of opinions about them?” Steve asked, interrupting my brooding. “Maybe you noticed something that could be a tip off to the police. You’re always good at noticing details, honey.”

“Well,” I said as I snuggled down in my recliner, both my favorite purple plaid mohair throw and the wine making me feel warm, “I was able to form a lot of opinions, actually.”

“Such as?”

I tried to explain my impressions of the Eden Academy teachers. “Everyone one of them had some kind of chip on his or her shoulder except for the student teacher. They seemed angry when they got to the lunch and pretty annoyed with each other in a general kind of way. I had the feeling that if there wasn’t a free lunch involved, most of them wouldn’t have been there. One of the teachers came right out and said to me
we don’t like each other
and he wasn’t joking
.
”

“That’s too bad,” Steve said. “You don’t have to love the people you work with but you should at least try to get along and act like grown ups.”

“Makes the sociology department at Metro State College seem a little more pleasant, doesn’t it?”

“It sure does. Did it seem to you like they hated Frank Ubermann most of all?”

“Let me think about that.” I sipped some more wine as I tried to reconstruct the luncheon. I had been so busy fussing and worrying over the food that I hadn’t been paying
too
close attention to what was going on but Steve’s right; I do tend to notice details and I’ve always been good at picking up on auras and the aura in that room was very tense, especially between Frank and Jack. “Jack Mulholland and Frank got into it pretty good.”

“Who is Jack Mulholland?”

“The art teacher. The one who helped me unload the car today.”

“Isn’t he the one Maxi the bus driver said had it in for Frank Ubermann?”

DeeDee nodded. “You’re right, she did! I wish you could have seen Jack. He looks just like Fozzie Bear on steroids. All hairy and huge.”

“Sounds charming.”

“Oh, he was nice enough to me. He let me in the back door and helped me carry everything up to the teachers’ lounge. He did make some cracks about Frank and Claudine when he let me in but he didn’t get combative until Frank got on him about taking out the garbage.”

“The teachers have to take out the garbage?” Steve asked incredulously.

“The school is supposed to be run on a cooperative basis—remember that article in the newspaper when Eden Academy opened? Everything’s run by committees and everyone’s supposed to pull their fair share. You said at the time that it would never work.”

“And it looks like I was right. So was it Jack’s turn to take out the garbage?”

“I guess so. Jack and Frank got snippy with each other over the garbage and then they started arguing about how much electricity Jack’s kilns use. Frank wanted Jack to kick in some money for the electricity and Jack got even angrier at him. He stormed out of the lounge but not before he blew up at Frank and Monica.”

“Who’s Monica?”

“Frank’s administrative assistant. According to Jack, until Monica started going over all the books with a fine tooth comb, no one cared how much electricity his kilns used.”

“All right, so we know there wasn’t any love lost between Jack and Frank but I seriously doubt anyone would kill someone because they told him to take out the garbage or asked him to kick in on an electric bill,” Steve observed.

“Probably not,” I agreed. “Jack was mad but he didn’t seem murderously mad.” I considered my statement. “Although I suppose anyone can snap.”

“Who else had it in for Frank Ubermann? Did you notice anybody else giving him the evil eye?”

“Not really. He certainly had a way of talking to them that wasn’t what I’d call pleasant but I couldn’t say that there was a whole lot of active hate going on either. He was a little impatient with the student teacher because she didn’t follow the correct format to leave early but that’s about it.”

“He sounds like he was a pompous ass but what boss isn’t?” Steve remarked.

“
Pompous
is a good word to describe him.”

“So who else was at this luncheon?” Steve asked.

“Let’s see.” I set down my wine glass and began listing the guests on my fingers. “Frank, of course, Claudine, Monica, Junebug, Jack, the student teacher and Simpson Ingalls. Simpson’s a teacher. Out of all of them, he probably said the least. He just ate the food and kept his mouth shut. He didn’t interact with anyone very much.”

“Smart man.”

“I think he is smart. He’s the one who told me that none of them like each other. He does have a history with Frank Ubermann though. Frank was his Boy Scout leader.”

“It’s a connection,” Steve said. “What about Junebug?”

I shrugged. “She was late and then when she got there she didn’t talk too much to the other teachers.”

“Because she didn’t like them?”

“I don’t know. She just seemed…out of it. She’s older—in her early seventies, I’d say, and it might have been too much for her. I overheard Frank and Claudine and Monica talking about her and it sounded like they think she’s past ready for retirement.”

“Do you think she’d kill Frank because he was trying to push her out?”

I started to laugh as I remembered the tiny woman in the red cowboy boots with the befuddled look on her face. “I don’t think so. She didn’t seem like the type.”

“There is no type,” Steve informed me, “and like you said, anyone can snap.”

“I suppose so.”

“That sounds like a pretty small party.”

“It really was. Like I said, if there hadn’t been a free meal involved I had the feeling that no one would have shown up.” I stopped suddenly, a picture of Frank, Claudine and Monica popping in my head with Frank’s hand almost surgically attached to Claudine’s knee.

“What? You look like you just remembered something.”

“I did. It was about Frank and Claudine. I was setting up in the lounge when Claudine came in to say hello. Frank was there too because he’d stopped in and introduced himself to me and we were still chatting when Claudine showed up. Frank was pretty brusque with Claudine and she was kind of snotty right back at him. I thought it was odd that they were so nasty to each other in front of a stranger but I didn’t really think too much about it. Then when they left the room, I swear I saw Frank’s hand brush across her fanny and it wasn’t an accident either.
And
she didn’t seem to mind in the least. If anything, I think she liked it.”

Steve raised his eyebrows. “Do you think there was some funny business going on between the two of them?”

“I don’t know. Claudine struck me as the type of woman who wouldn’t hesitate for a second to slap someone across the face if she thought they deserved it. She was dressed kind of trampy but she has an extremely forbidding personality. Very stiff and prickly but then during the lunch I saw Frank’s hand on her knee and she just sat there smiling. Monica wasn’t too happy about it, I could tell. When Monica sat down next to Frank I noticed that Claudine gave her a look right out of the deep freeze. Jack had mentioned to me that Claudine was something of a cold fish but this look was really incredible. I almost expected instant ice crystals to start forming on Monica’s dress.”

“Interesting,” Steve said. “How did Monica react?”

“She didn’t. She was so busy staring at Frank’s hand on Monica’s knee that the building could have burst into flames and she probably wouldn’t have noticed.”

“Maybe ol’ Frank was something of a player and had something going on with both Monica and Claudine?”

“I thought the same thing.”

 
“He must have been quite the ladies’ man. Was he good looking?”

“I guess so.” I hadn’t told Steve that there was something about the late Frank Ubermann that reminded me just a little bit of vintage Robert Redford. Steve always got so ridiculously jealous whenever I watched
The Way We Were
which I only did two or three times a year
.
I decided to compare him to Burt Reynolds instead. “He was a little bit like Burt Reynolds in his prime. Sort of confident and cocky and definitely comfortable in his own skin and around women. Nice looking but he came across as more handsome than he really was because of his attitude. Alpha male all the way.”

“Do you know if he was married?”

“I think so. He said he was going camping with Sylvia this weekend and I assumed that’s his wife.” I shuddered. “How awful for his wife to get a phone call saying that her husband had been murdered. Especially in such a bizarre way.”

“Murder is murder,” Steve replied matter-of-factly, “but you’re right. Getting shot by an arrow has to be one of your lesser happening crimes in today’s world. That must have hurt something fierce. I wonder why they were using regular bows. Wouldn’t you think that a school would use something with safety tips?”

“I thought about that too and I asked Simpson why Eden Academy didn’t use something that was safer for students. He said that Frank was a stickler for accuracy. Frank was a Boy Scout leader for years and years and was really into the whole outdoor thing and that he wanted to teach the kids how to shoot with the real deal, not an imitation.”

“Well, I bet he wishes he’d gone with the imitation now,” Steve observed. “Frank Ubermann sounds like he was pretty heavily into the whole macho thing. A lesser man would have been pretty leery of teaching high school students how to shoot bows and arrows without any protection.”

“Maybe he trusted his students,” I suggested.

“He was a fool if he did. Maybe it was a student who did him in. That’s a possibility—a kid with a grudge against him for flunking him.”

“I don’t know—a high school student?”