An Indecent Death (12 page)

Drumm nodded and said, “I saw that.” He headed into the bedroom, the area which interested him the most. The FIS team hadn’t come up with anything from the rug or the bed, no hairs belonging to someone else, no stains, nothing at all out of place. Lori joined him in the bedroom and they looked around at the neatly made bed and strewn clothing.

“If she was killed here, it was most likely on the bed, wouldn’t you say, Nick? I mean, she was given the drug, felt woozy and passed out. She either would have made it to the bed, with or without help, or collapsed somewhere else. But the killer would have wanted her on the bed, don’t you think?”

“Yes, I agree, and that means that he made the bed afterwards. The messy clothing would be right, I think. She came home from work, threw her clothes on the chair and got herself ready for a night out.”

“Why make the bed, though?”

Drumm said, “Probably because he wanted to make it look like a normal night out. As if she came home, got dressed, went out and disappeared. If the bed were unmade, it would cast doubt on that story.”

“He’s a cool customer, don’t you think? Takes the time to make the bed! And then, easy as you please, he takes the body out of here. What a risk! How did he do it?”

Drumm had given this a lot of thought. “It’s always possible that she was still alive when she left here. She could have been leaning on him, like he was supporting her and then they went out to his car. If anyone saw them, he could pretend she was drunk. Which she basically was.”

“You think that’s what happened?”

“No. For two reasons. One, he planned to give her the drug here and rape her. I think that’s pretty clear. Otherwise he would have waited and met her at a club. But he didn’t do that. He came here, and he was going to do it here. So why then take her out of the apartment with all the risks involved in being seen? And that’s the second reason. She might have said something, or moaned, or screamed; there could have been a nosy parker neighbour. A lot of things could have gone wrong. No, I think she was dead when she left here.”

“So how did he get her out of here unseen? Throw her over his shoulder and take her out in the elevator? Down the stairs?” Lori was looking skeptical.

“Maybe, if it was Terry Noonan, or Donald Musjari. They’re strong enough to have done it. Or maybe he used something to help him. Maybe the body was wrapped up in a sheet or a rug. At this point we don’t know.” Drumm was rubbing his eyes. He was getting a headache, a sure sign his blood sugar was out of whack. “I don’t think there’s much more to be learned here. But Lori, take a look in her closet and drawers, would you, and see what you make of her clothing? I’ll just have another look at the living room.” He had, of course, checked all this out himself on his earlier visit but he wanted a woman’s perspective.

“Sure.” After a few minutes, Lori rejoined him and said, “Well, it’s not the wardrobe that I would normally associate with a teacher, that’s for sure. And, contrary to what we’ve been told, she did own underwear. I guess she just didn’t wear it much. She had a lot of sexy lingerie, matching bra and panty sets, thongs, bustiers, stockings and garters. It’s expensive stuff, too, you can tell from how skimpy it is. Generally the less material there is, the more it costs.”

Drumm’s headache was worse. And Lori Singh was watching him carefully. Just lately he’d had the sense that something was bothering her. He had that feeling now, the way she was looking at him. Should he ask her? He decided it could wait. “What about her other stuff, Lori?”

She said, “Same idea. Good quality things, and everything chosen to make her look good. She favoured tops that were low-cut or tight or both, skirts slit up the side, that kind of thing. Even the skirts and dresses and blouses that were clearly chosen for school were smart and sexy. She wanted to look good and she knew what she was doing.”

“Right. Thanks. I think we’re done here. Let’s canvass the neighbours again and see if anyone can remember seeing or hearing anything that night.”

Staff meetings had to be held in the library because there were so many teachers at Elmdale Elementary School. They had tried the staff room in the past but it had proved to be too cramped. The library worked well with its large tables and open spaces, and there was room for a separate treat table as well. Jim Shaughnessy called a staff meeting every month, which was all the teachers’ union would allow, but he had snuck in an extra one at the end of this day. He said that he felt it necessary to address the staff concerning Sarah’s death and the police reaction to it.

“This news has hit us all hard,” he said. “I just wanted you to know that I have been proud of the way you have handled it. You’ve been professional throughout this difficult week. I know, also, that having the police here questioning us all has been stressful. You deserve congratulations, all of you, for dealing with everything so well, and for carrying on regardless. Just one more day to go, and hopefully next week will be better.”

Kevin Callaghan listened to his principal with half his mind. He supposed Jim was saying the right things, but what they all wanted was to go home and rest up for the next day. Shaughnessy was right, though: it had been a tough week. Kevin thought again about his interview the day before. Should he have said so much? Why did he tell them about having sex with Sarah? Because they would have found out anyway, he knew. Half the school knew about it. Did they suspect him? Of course they did! He was a fool!

Shaughnessy was going on. “Some of the students want to set up a memorial to Sarah in the courtyard. I think it’s a good idea, but I wanted to get your views on it before we make any decisions.”

Bill Deans was only half listening to his principal. He was a little surprised to hear about the memorial. Normally Jim kept him informed about stuff like that. Mostly, though, he kept thinking about his conversation with the police the day before. Why had he denied having sex with Sarah? They were sure to find out. Hell, they already had found out! Well, because for an administrator to be caught having sexual intercourse in a school was the epitome of stupidity. What an ass he was!

Shaughnessy wrapped up the discussion and put an end to the meeting. The teachers started to leave the library, most quiet, some talking about the memorial, about which no consensus had yet been reached. The principal spoke to Lynnette Cranston as she was gathering up her books. “Lynnette, a word with you, please? How did today go? Are you sure it was wise to come back so soon? I thought you were going to be away all week.”

“I know. I thought it was a good idea at first, too. But then, sitting around all day thinking about it…” Her voice trailed off. “I figured I would be better off here. Today was hard, but the kids were great, and I was right, working did take my mind off Sarah.”

“You know, it’s good to have someone to talk to when a tragedy like this happens. Have you talked to one of the grief counselors?” The York Area School District automatically brought in qualified personnel to help teachers and students cope, whenever something traumatic happened.

“No.” Lynnette was shaking her head. “I wouldn’t feel comfortable doing something like that.”

“You really should, Lynn. They’re here to help.”

“I don’t think so, Jim. But thanks.”

“Well, at least talk to one of your other friends here about it. Or maybe a friend from another school. It might help to speak to someone not so close to the situation.”

Lynnette started to shake her head but then stopped and said, “Maybe you’re right. Perhaps I’ll give Cassie a call.”

“Cassie?”

“Oh, sorry. Cassie Middleton. She’s a good friend of mine. Or used to be. I haven’t seen her much lately. But if anyone can help me make sense of Sarah’s death, it’s her.” She thought a moment. “You don’t know her? You came from Pinehurst. She’s a teacher there.”

Jim Shaughnessy was looking at her strangely. “Cassie Middleton? No, I don’t think I do. She must have transferred in after I left. Yes, by all means, talk to her, it’ll do you good, I think.”

They said goodbye and went their separate ways, the principal back to his office, and Lynnette directly out to her car and home.

The reading was 5.9. That was okay, then. Drumm’s headache was gone and he felt normal again. It was a fine, sunny spring morning, his blood sugar was below six, he was about to take Will for a walk and he was going to see Emily again today. How could things be better?

Well for a start, he thought, as he went out the door with the dog, he might know who Sarah Noonan’s murderer was. That would help. Last evening’s report to Staff Inspector Chappell had gone a little better than the previous one but his superior was far from satisfied. It helped that they were fairly sure that she was killed in her apartment and then dumped at the park. And that they were confident that a stocking or scarf had been used to kill her. But Chappell was still pushing, and Drumm couldn’t blame him. It didn’t do to have a schoolteacher strangled and her body dumped in the local park. And the police having to say, day after day, ‘no arrest yet.’

He stooped to scoop up Will’s morning deposit and thought about the day ahead. Lori Singh had been given the task last night of revisiting the nightclubs and pubs which Sarah Noonan had been known to frequent. She would have had a late night. Since she hadn’t called, Drumm could assume she hadn’t learned anything interesting. Not that he’d expected much anyway.

The two of them had wasted a couple of hours knocking on the neighbours’ doors in Sarah Noonan’s building, hoping that someone would have seen something, or heard something, that maybe someone had been missed in the initial canvass. They had learned nothing. It was almost unbelievable that a man could have gotten a body out of the building unnoticed, but that appeared to be what had happened.

He and Will turned a corner and then Drumm waited while the dog went through his normal sniffing routine at his favourite spot. It was the same most mornings, but sometimes Will would surprise him. With Shelties you never knew. They were intelligent dogs but occasionally would do incredibly dumb things. Like not going to the bathroom until they were told. You would think that after twelve hours of holding it, Will might know he had to go. But no, sometimes he had to be reminded. Not today, though. Will lifted his leg as usual and watered near the post, just as he normally did.. “Good boy, Will.” Drumm bent and ruffled the dog’s head.

Today he would revisit Elmdale Elementary and look around some more. There were several staff there who needed to be interviewed again. He and Emily would be meeting for a picnic lunch. The thought of that brought a sudden smile to his face, surprising a passing woman whom Drumm didn’t even notice. And there were follow-up questions to ask of Greg Parent. Plus a full report from Lori Singh and the afternoon conference with Mark Chappell. And maybe a complete stranger would call in with a tip, saying he saw a short, dark man carrying a long bundle over his shoulder in Sarah Noonan’s apartment building. There had been plenty of tips called in already, it was just that they had all been useless.

He and Will turned the final corner and headed for home. Drumm was anxious to get going now and he was hurrying. It would be a busy day.

Principal Shaughnessy was as welcoming as he had been before, although perhaps a little surprised to see the two detectives. Drumm hadn’t told him that he and Wesson would show up today, wanting to see how the staff would react. Shaughnessy didn’t seem to mind, even though Drumm was sure it would mean disruptions to the principal’s day. The three of them were walking down the hallway towards Sarah Noonan’s seventh-grade classroom. It was about eight-thirty and the school was coming to life, although there were few students around as of yet.

The classroom door was open and the lights were on but the teacher wasn’t there. The school district had replaced Sarah with an older woman, taken from the substitute list. He had no particular motive in mind when looking at the room. Drumm just felt compelled to go there for some reason. He stood inside gazing at a normal seventh-grade class with its dusty shelves, rows of desks and student writing on the walls and wondered how much of the former occupant was still present. The other two men waited in the doorway with curious looks on their faces.

When Drumm came out again, a small boy was hanging up his coat and bag on a hook outside the class. Drumm recognized him as Shawn… …he couldn’t remember the last name. This was the boy who had been drawing obscene pictures and leaving them for the girls in the room to find. He had been questioned but he was clearly not involved in his teacher’s death at all.

“How’s Mr. Hartford today?” Shaughnessy had his smiling principal face on, Drumm could see, and already he was perspiring profusely.

“Good.” Shawn wasn’t much of a talker, Drumm had discovered. In truth he seemed to be a weasel, the kind of kid who looked at the floor or over your shoulder when addressed. You couldn’t trust that kind an inch. Drumm dismissed Shawn Hartford from his mind.

“Let’s move on.” The three men continued walking. “I want to see Pepin’s room again.” Drumm wondered if they would find the custodian asleep in the sink once more.

Pepin wasn’t asleep – he wasn’t in the room at all – but they could hear his voice from over in the other hallway.

Drumm asked the principal, “What’s in the desk and filing cabinet, Mr. Shaughnessy? I mean, I can understand a teacher needing them but why a janitor?”

Shaughnessy looked surprised. “I’m not sure, actually. I suppose he has paperwork to do, reports to file. I don’t have much to do with the custodians. I know he keeps some lost and found stuff there, and he’ll likely have a few balls that he gives out to the boys. Tennis balls, mostly, that have gone up on the roof. Why?”

“I want you to go through them for me, see what’s in there. Can you do that? If he’s not here?”

“You want me to search through his filing cabinet and desk? Why? Why don’t you do it yourself?”

“Because I don’t have a warrant, Mr. Shaughnessy. We can’t search anybody’s filing cabinets or lockers or desks here without a warrant, and for that we need probable cause. Which we do not yet have. So if I found anything incriminating, it wouldn’t be admissible as evidence. But
you
can look through it, and then we’ll know what he’s got in there. I’m going to send Detective Wesson away with him to check out the parking lot where Sarah Noonan parked her car.” At a nod from Drumm, Karl Wesson went to take the custodian outside. Karl was looking rough today, Drumm noticed, like he hadn’t been getting enough sleep.

“But why look at all, Detective? Why Pierre?”

“Because some of your female teachers think your Mr. Pepin has a strange, possibly even perverted side to his nature. They think he likes to hang around the washrooms and change room and maybe catch a peek. If that’s true, then I wondered what else he might be up to. Probably nothing but let’s find out, shall we? Please be quick, Karl can’t keep him out there all day.”

The filing cabinet had a lock but the key was in it and the top drawer was open anyway. The principal stepped forward, treating Drumm to a side view of his bulging stomach, and opened the filing cabinet drawers one by one, with Drumm, having closed the door, standing behind him. The top three were just files, and Drumm made sure there was nothing else at the back. It was just reports, blank forms, safety information and other routine stuff. The bottom drawer contained some worn tennis balls, a skipping rope, a couple of Frisbees and some fairly clean children’s gym clothing. Drumm could see a pair of shorts and three Elmdale Eagles tee-shirts.

“Alright?” asked Jim Shaughnessy.

Drumm nodded. “And the desk?” The drawers were all closed.

The principal tugged on the handle of the top one but it refused to open. “Locked,” said Shaughnessy. He looked at Drumm. “I can do something about that if you like.”

Drumm nodded. “Hurry then.”

Shaughnessy picked up a paper clip from a holder on the desk, bent it, got down on his knees and inserted it in the keyhole. He fiddled for a minute and then the drawer opened. “These are the cheapest desks, for God’s sake.” There was nothing remarkable in the small top drawer, a few coins and a couple of cans of spray paint, other odds and ends. “Wouldn’t want the kids getting their hands on this paint,” Shaughnessy said. “Pierre’s door is usually open and the kids are often sent here to get stuff for cleaning up messes.” He gestured at the mops and buckets.

The bottom drawer was larger and proved to be full of clothing. There was a difference, though. This was more intimate apparel. As the principal turned the stuff over, Drumm could see a camisole, a pair of panties, a bra, some pantyhose and a stocking. It was black and it appeared to be silk.

Drumm looked at Shaughnessy. “Interesting stuff for a janitor to have, wouldn’t you say?”

“I’m sure there’s a good explanation, Detective,” said Shaughnessy, but he didn’t sound convincing to Drumm.

“Lock it all up again, sir, if you please,” Drumm said. “And let’s go find Mr. Pepin.”

Shaughnessy did as Drumm had asked, and got back to his feet with some difficulty. He was breathing hard as he brushed off his pants. “Got to lose some weight,” he said. “Shouldn’t be out of breath doing a little thing like that.”

They met Wesson and the custodian coming down the hall, back from the staff parking lot. “Mr. Pepin, we’d like you to show us what’s in your filing cabinet, please.”

Pepin looked surprised. “Me? My filing cabinet? Why?”

“Just do it please, sir. Unless you have something to hide?” Drumm was staring at him, as one might look at a particularly nasty insect.

“Me? No.” He opened the top drawer and stepped aside so they could see in. “Just paper stuff.” He did the same with the other drawers.

“Now the desk, please, Mr. Pepin. I’m sure you want to co-operate with a police investigation, don’t you?” Drumm was standing with arms folded, leaning back against the wall. Karl Wesson was in the doorway, watching his boss with interest. Shaughnessy was looking at his custodian, his mouth slightly open.

“My desk? Why you want to look in dere?” As Drumm said nothing and just continued to stare, Pepin shrugged and opened the desk drawer with a small key from a huge ring he had attached to his pants.

“Open the bottom one, please, sir. What’s in there?”

“Just some more lost and found clothes, dat’s all.”

Drumm leaned forward and hooked his pen under the white camisole that was on top of the pile, lifting it into view of Wesson and the others. “Where did you get this, sir?”

“Dat?” Pepin was puzzled. “I found dat in da change room.”

“And this?” Drumm was now holding up the black stocking.

Pepin looked puzzled now. “I don’t know how dat got dere. I’ve never seen dat before, me.” He scratched his head.

“Oh, I think you have, Mr. Pepin.” Drumm turned to Shaughnessy. “You’re going to need another custodian for today. We will be borrowing your Mr. Pepin here for a while.” Drumm then said to the custodian, “We need you to come to the station for some questions, Mr. Pepin.”

Pepin turned to the principal. “Jim?”

Shaughnessy said, “Better go with them, Pierre. I’m sure it’s all a mistake but it’s best to get it sorted out.”

Wesson put his large hand on Pierre’s shoulder. “Please come with me, sir.”

Bill Deans watched out his window as Pierre Pepin walked out of the school between Detectives Drumm and Wesson. The custodian didn’t look too happy. Surely the cops didn’t think a sixty-year-old man had killed a sexy thing like Sarah Noonan? Pierre Pepin? Deans would have to ask Shaughnessy what that was all about. He had a good relationship with his principal. He guessed he liked him okay but he was a bit hard to know. You could get so far with Jim Shaughnessy and no further.

Deans thought for the hundredth time about his talk with Drumm the other day. He thought he had been doing alright until that question came out of the blue about sex with Sarah in the storage room. Jesus, that had shaken him up. How did they know about that anyway? Despite himself, he got a little grin remembering the circumstances. It had been after school one night and they had bumped into each other. She had finished a team basketball practice; he was running around looking for something and had come across her in the hall. She was wearing tight shorts and a white tee-shirt. The shorts were so snug on her that they were practically indecent, the shirt the same, something that would have been more appropriate on a Hooters girl. Any man would have been attracted to such a sight.

They had walked down the hall a bit and she had followed him, quite naturally he thought, into the stores room. She had closed the door behind them and eased right up to him, asking him to check out a stain on her shirt. Or some such nonsense. He couldn’t remember. She was looking at him with a “do me” expression, and he had obliged. Before he knew it, his hands were pushing up her shirt and he was running his hands all over her breasts. She was saying something or other and he was squeezing her ass through those oh-so-tight shorts, and then pushing them down, and she was moaning. And then he was frantically unbuckling his belt and pushing his pants down, and then he was in her and it was over in no time. They were both panting and he had no idea how it was for her, but he felt wonderful.

He thought she had enjoyed it. He thought she probably always enjoyed it. Deans had never met a nymphomaniac but he thought maybe Sarah was as close as he might ever get. She had adjusted her clothing, given him a little kiss and left. The next day she had given him a mischievous little grin but basically ignored him, and he didn’t know what to make of that.