4 The Killing Bee (12 page)

"Right."

"But the library only has three computers."

I looked at Latree, then at Andrea.

"What happened to the fourth computer?" our little logician continued.

Good question. "Maybe it broke," Andrea said.

"We
never
had four computers," said Latree.

I closed my eyes. I
was trying to visualize the computer I'd spotted in Ms. Helquist’s study at home. It was big and chunky—just like the three computers in the school library.

It sure looked li
ke good old Ms. Helquist had appropriated that fourth computer for herself.

Had her boss found out?

10

The next day, Friday, Andrea got one of her colleagues to cover for her early-morning class at the community college. Then she came along to High Rock with me and the kids. She wanted to help me interrogate Ms. Helquist.

In my previous scrapes with homicide, Andrea had never shown any interest in helping me interrogate people. She was happy to leave the dirty wor
k to me. But I guess last night’s garbage bag follies had gotten her blood up.

And I guess she wanted to do anything she could to get Laura off the hook. A twenty-year sentence would definitely disrupt their weekly bowling routine.

I wasn't too excited about having Andrea along. I was afraid she'd cramp my style. But she wouldn't take no for an answer, so at eight-thirty that morning we were sitting together in my Toyota outside the school. We waited until all the bells had rung, all the kids were safely stashed away in their various classrooms, and Ms. Helquist was alone in her office. Then we walked in on her.

She was sitting behind her desk, slicing open a thick brown packet s
he'd gotten in the mail. The return address was from Albany, I noted; probably the packet contained a mother lode of government memos.

Ms. Helquist looked up and frowned. "May I help you?"

For answer, I held up the computer invoice, which we had taped together.

Ms. Helquist squinted at the yellow paper, then gave a start when she recognized it. "Where'd you get this?"

I started to say something, but Andrea surprised me by taking over. "Mr. Meckel found out about you keeping a computer, didn't he?"

"I can't believe t
his," Ms. Helquist sputtered angrily. "You went through my trash?"

Andrea ignored her and pressed on. "And what happened then? He told you he'd have to fire you?"

Ms. Helquist dropped her aggressive pose and said plaintively, "That’s not how it was. Not in the slightest. Mr. Meckel knew all along. It was his idea."

"His idea for you to steal the school's computer?" said Andrea in disbelief.

"It wasn't stealing. He knew I did a lot of work for the school at home. But he knew he couldn't get it approved by the superintendent as part of the budget, so he did it this way."

"You don't really expect us to buy that, do you?" Andrea said. I was taken aback
—and impressed—by how hard-nosed Andrea was acting. From now on I'd have to bring her along to
all
my interrogations.

"Look, you have no idea how tight the budget is. Mr. Meckel wanted to give me a raise, but he couldn't. Getting me my own computer was his way of doing that."

"If this whole thing was so innocent," said Andrea, "then why'd you rip up the invoice?"

Ms. Helquist looked abashed. "Because there's gonna be a new principal, and I don't know how he'll react."

I put in my two cents. "I don't suppose you have any proof Meckel was really going along with your little scam."

"What difference does it make, anyway?
It’s just a computer. If you feel that strongly about it, I'll bring it back to school."

"What we're wondering," said Andrea, "is if you and Mr. Meckel got in an argument about this."

Ms. Helquist looked exasperated. "I told you, Mr. Meckel—"

"And then the argument got physical."

Ms. Helquist’s head snapped back like she'd been punched in the jaw. "Are you…? That’s insane."

"Ms. Helquist, I'm sure you didn't mean to hurt him," Andrea said. "The cops will understand that."

I piled on with: "You really should go to the cops now, before they figure it out on their own. They’ll go easier on you."

Ms. Helquist
’s voice was shaking. "Look, I was at home that morning. I never came in."

"Can anybody back you up on that?" Andrea said.

"No, but—"

"Then we'll have to go to the cops ourselves," I said. Andrea and I were turning into a pretty good one-two punch.

"How can you do this to me? I've been a secretary at High Rock for twenty years. I've given my heart and soul to this school."

Andrea and I glanced at each other. We felt rotten about ruining this lady's life, but did we have a choice?

Then Ms. Helquist gave us one.

"There
is
one other person who knew about the computer purchase," she said hesitantly. "He can tell you I did nothing wrong."

"Who is this person?" Andrea said.

"Scott Lawrence."

The name rang a bell. "He's on the school board, right? Is that how he found out?" I asked.

"I guess, or else he found out because his son goes to High Rock. Anyway, I know he and Mr. Meckel had a conversation about the computer, because Mr. Meckel mentioned it. If you talk to Mr. Lawrence and he says I'm telling the truth about Mr. Meckel giving me the computer, then you won't have to talk to the cops, right?"

Behind me, two cute little dark-hai
red girls came into Ms. Helquist’s office and waited for her attention. Andrea and I shared another look, wondering what our next move was.

Finally I turned to Ms. Helquist. "We'll talk to this guy Lawrence. Then we'll get back to you."

"And in the meantime," Andrea threw in, "we're going to need a list of all the students in the school who are being held back next year."

"I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"That information's confidential."

Andrea pointed at the invoice in my hand. "If you want us to keep
this
information confidential, then you better make up that list. Fax it to us. Today. Here's our fax number."

Ms. Helquist stared at Andrea, openmouthed, as she jotted the number on a piece of paper. I was staring at her too. Where did her tough-guy routine come from?

Then Andrea walked out. I followed her.

As soon as we got outside I said, "Jeez, you were fierce in there."

"You oughta see me when I catch a student plagiarizing. It’s not a pretty sight."

I shuddered to think of it.

The Saratoga Springs School Board is a far from inspiring bunch. At the time of Meckel's death, three of the board's seven members also belonged to an organization called the City Taxpayers Union. The CTU seems to believe that our children would be much better off if we eliminated all school art and music programs, closed the school libraries for most of the day, had at least forty students in every class, and paid our teachers minimum wage, or less.

Two of the other board members were middle-aged Republican types with kids who were already in college. I wasn't clear what their agenda was. Maybe they hoped the school board would be a stepping-stone to higher elective office. But they'd never get my vote. I'd been to a couple of school board meetings, and I'd never seen them come up with any halfway interesting or creative ideas.

The remaining two members were the school board's saving grace, the kind of people who almost restore your faith in democracy. They were both mothers of young school-age children who actually seemed to care about improving the schools. I knew one of these women, a freelance graphic artist named Patty, so I called her now. She wasn't in, so I tried the other woman, whose name was in the phone book. She was standoffish at first, but after I told her I had voted for her last time and gotten all my friends to vote for her too, she opened up some. She informed me that Scott Lawrence worked for H & R Block in town.

We drove downtown and parked outside the H & R Block building, which is hands down the ugliest building on Broadway. It was built about forty or fifty years ago, during a particularly ill-conceived urban-renewal project. Next to the grand old edifices that occupy the rest of the street, the H & R Block building looks short, squat, and Styrofoamish.

All of these adjectives also applied to Scott Lawrence, who rose to greet us with a plastic smile imprinted on his face. Lawrence was one of the leading bozos of the City Taxpayers Union. You'd think that with a kid in
elementary school, he'd realize the CTU's ideals were incompatible with good public education. But I guess he found some way to delude himself.

"Pleased to meet you," Lawrence said, beaming. "Sit down,
sit down. Your names are…?"

"I'm Jacob Burns and this is my wife, Andrea."

Lawrence lifted his eyebrows. "You're the screenwriter, aren't you? Loved your movie. Bet it complicated your financial life, though, right?" He was off and running. "I do taxes for several other writers in town, so I'm well aware of the unique issues writers face—"

"Actually, we're not here about taxes. We're here about this." I showed him the invoice from Staples.

Lawrence took it and checked it out for a couple of moments, then gave us a puzzled look. "I don't understand. This is an invoice of some sort."

Andrea said, "We're trying to confirm something Hilda Helquist told us. She says you were aware of a certain computer purchase the school made."

Lawrence threw out a little laugh. "As a member of the school board I do try to keep close tabs on where the taxpayers' money goes. I consider that an important responsibility. But I don't keep track of every single equipment purchase. That would be a little extreme, even for me." He examined the invoice more closely. "Where did you get this, anyway? And why is it ail torn up?"

"
It’s a long story."

"I see." He handed the invoice back. "Well, sorry I can't help you."

Andrea and I got up. "Thank you for your time," Andrea said.

Lawrence put on his big fake smile again and shook our hands. "Any time. And if you ever need help with your C form, let me know. Do you take a home office deduction?"

"We'll talk later," I said, and eased on out of the room.

On the sidewalk, Andrea asked me, "So who's lying
—him or Helquist?"

"I'll say him, because I dislike him more. Though I can't imagine why he'd
want
to lie."

"Or how he would've found out. He's right
—the school board members can't get involved in every little purchase."

"So any ideas where we go now?"

"You tell me, you're the sleuth."

"Hey, you've
been looking pretty smooth yourself," I said.

Andrea kissed me. "I enjoyed sleuthing with you."

"The family that sleuths together stays together."

She checked her watch. "Unfortunately, I'm late for my office hours. So you better just drive me back home, and I'll get my car."

On the way home we threw out ideas, but none of them seemed any good. "Okay, Jake," Andrea told me as we were saying good-bye, "I expect you to solve the crime before I get back."

"No sweat."

After Andrea drove off, I went in the house and checked for phone messages. There were none, but there was a fax. From Ms. Helquist.

I picked it up. This was the list of High Rock kids
who had been held back. There were nine names on it. I scanned them quickly. Mark Robinson's name wasn't among them.

I scanned the list again, slower this time. When I came to the third name from the bottom, my eyes stopped cold.

Megan Powell
. Susie's younger daughter.

Sam Meckel had decided that Megan would have to repeat first grade.

I wondered how Susie Powell felt about that.

Probably not too good.

I wish Andrea was still with me, I thought as I drove up to Susie's house. I wouldn't have minded sticking her with this job. My last little chat with Susie had been none too pleasant.

She lived in a development west of town that was similar to Sherwood Forest. The houses were a little bigger and the roads a little windier. Susie's corporate husband must be making high five figures by now, maybe even low six. I rang the front doorbell. It chimed cheerfully. But Susie didn't look too cheerful when she opened the door and saw me.

"Now what?" she said.

"Susie, I don't know how to say this. . . ."

"Just say it."

I tried the light touch. "Well, I just found out about another little murder motive you had."

As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized they didn't sound nearly as light as I'd intended. In fact, they sou
nded about as light as an Al Gore campaign speech.

Susie knew exactly what I was getting at. "You heard about Megan getting held back."

"Yes."

We both stood there in the doorway. She didn't
invite me in; I guess she wasn't feeling too warmly toward me. Not that I really wanted to go in, anyway. Accusing people of murder always makes me feel socially awkward.

"Look, I met with Meckel last week, after I got his letter. We worked it out."

"How'd you do that?"

"He was amazingly reasonable. We agreed Megan would get special tutoring this summer, and then she could go to second grade next year."