Schooled In Lies (28 page)

THREE HOURS LATER, I was sitting in my car parked two doors down from Clair Easton’s house. There’s nothing like drowning your sorrows by immersing yourself in matters that don’t really concern you. I chalked it up to my small-town mentality. There was still yellow crime scene tape across Clair Easton’s front door. It was after midnight and the neighborhood was dark and deserted. Most of the houses that I could see had no lights on, indicating that the residents were either asleep or not at home. I got out of my car and looked around briefly before heading up Clair Easton’s driveway. I knew I wouldn’t be able to get into her house, but her house wasn’t really what I’d come to see. It was her garden shed I was interested in. Emma Kirby said that Jeeves had died as a result of getting into some rat poison kept in Clair’s garden shed.

I headed to the end of the driveway, stopping in front of a large detached garage. To my left there was a high ivy covered wooden gate leading to the backyard. I tried to push it open, but it was latched from the other side. There was no other entrance to the backyard. I tried to wedge some sticks I found on the ground through the gate to pull up the latch. The first one I tried was too thin and snapped and the next one was too fat to fit through the gap. I looked around and saw a trellis on the side of the garage next to the fence.

I hurried over and started to climb. Once I was level with the top of the fence, I swung my right leg over the top. I got my balance by bracing myself against the fence and the side of the garage. I made sure to put most of the pressure on my non-sprained wrist before swinging my other leg over and jumping down into the backyard. I landed on my ass on top of a pile of compost. I quickly jumped up and brushed grass clippings and fruit peelings off of my pants. I pulled the small flashlight I’d brought with me out of my pocket to make sure it wasn’t broken. It wasn’t and I switched it on.

The backyard was huge. The grass was a little long but, from what I could see in the dark, it was lush and green. There was a large gazebo with peeling white paint and a peeked roof in the center of the backyard. I shone the flashlight inside but except for mouse droppings, and a broken stone birdbath covered in bird crap lying against one wall, it was empty. The shed was at the back of the yard and was a big gray metal box with a flat roof. There was a large rusty padlock looped through the handles. I doubted very seriously that Jeeves could work a padlock. If he’d gotten into something in the shed, how did he get in there? I jerked hard on the lock, and to my surprise, it opened. I slid open the shed door and winced as a loud metal scraping sound penetrated the darkness.

I hesitated a few seconds before stepping inside. The smell of gas, rust, and manure smacked me in the face. Once inside, I could see there were shelves lining the back of the shed. On the shelves were various sizes and shapes of ceramic pots for plants, an ancient grime covered gasoline can, a large half empty sack of manure enriched lawn fertilizer, a rusted out lawn chair, and a shovel. There was a spray bottle of insecticide, but no rat poison. There was no way Jeeves could have even gotten into the shed let alone gotten into poison. Someone must have given him something poisoned.

I started to leave and head back towards the gate when I heard voices. I crouched down against one side of the open shed door and switched off my flashlight. The voices were getting closer and were coming from the other side of the fence behind the shed. I saw a section of the fence swing outward as another gate, completely hidden by the thick ivy, opened. I remained still as a statue as two figures walked into the backyard right past the shed and me. It wasn’t until they’d gotten to the gazebo and walked through a narrow shaft of moonlight that I was able to make out who it was. It was Gerald Tate and Dennis’s mother, Emma Kirby. Oh, boy. They went inside the gazebo and I crept closer. I could see them embracing through the gazebo’s open latticework. They were pressed together so tightly they looked like one shadowy, pulsating entity. Soon the sound of heavy breathing and moaning joined the sound of crickets.

To get a better look, I shone my flashlight inside and saw that Gerald had Emma Kirby pressed against the wall. His pants were down and her legs were wrapped around his waist. I knew Gerald was a dog but damn! I could not believe he was doing Dennis’s mama. They were getting louder and louder. I watched as she unwrapped her legs from his middle and he spun her around and bent her over taking her from behind. He was banging her so hard I thought her head might go right through the wall. They were so into it, they didn’t notice the light from my flashlight. Hell, I could have done the electric slide dressed as Smoky the Bear right in front of them and they wouldn’t have noticed. I turned the flashlight off.

I wondered how long the two of them had been fooling around in Clair Easton’s gazebo? Is this what she’d seen that had gotten her killed? Was Jeeves poisoned in order to keep him from barking and alerting Clair to the presence of illicit fornicators in her backyard? But had she seen them anyway and threatened to tell Emma Kirby’s husband? How would Ellis Kirby handle knowing his wife was getting busy with their son’s black friend in a neighbor’s gazebo? Probably not well considering he’d had a conniption over Jeeves digging up his azaleas. I’m thinking having his wife diddled behind his back might send him over the edge.

This new development also put Gerald back into the mix. Maybe Cherisse hadn’t told her buddy Ms. Flack about Gerald stealing from Clair Easton. Maybe, she found out he was screwing Emma Kirby and was hurt and told Ms. Flack who in turn blackmailed him and was killed for it. If that was the case, then Cherisse could have also lied to me about the conversation I’d overheard between her and Gerald about Sunny Abou being deported. I was so lost in thought I didn’t realize the noises in the gazebo had stopped. I peeked inside again and saw Emma and Gerald hurriedly fixing their clothes. They kissed passionately and then headed for the door of the gazebo. I crouched down out of sight and watched as they walked across the backyard and disappeared through the hidden gate. As I passed by the entrance to the gazebo, something in the grass glittered in the moonlight and caught my eye. I bent down to pick it up. It was a platinum bracelet with large pearls dangling from it. I recognized it as the bracelet Emma Kirby was wearing when Dennis had given me a ride home. I thought it only fair that I return it to her.

I arrived at the Kirby home the next morning and sat in my car in front of the house until I saw Ellis Kirby leave in his shiny silver Jaguar, followed about ten minutes later by Dennis in his work clothes. Wanting some time alone with the lady of the house, before the men folk came back, I hurried up the steep driveway and had to catch my breath before ringing the doorbell. The front double doors were high, narrow, arched and made entirely of glass. The center of the doors was decorated in frosted, white geometric designs that kept visitors, both invited and unwanted, from being able to look directly into the house. I had to ring the doorbell a second time before a young and very pretty redhead wearing khaki pants, tennis shoes, and a gold polo style shirt with the words Willow Memorial Hospital stitched over the right breast.

The startled young woman rushed off and I followed her into a large, airy dining room with large windows that overlooked the backyard. Emma Kirby was standing over the remains of a broken glass pitcher and a puddle of spilled orange juice on the dining room’s parquet floor.

“It just slipped right out of my hand!” she wailed as she clenched and unclenched her fingers. Her knuckles were red and enlarged. Dennis had mentioned she had arthritis. That’s why she must be having physical therapy. Emma Kirby looked startled and confused when she saw me come in behind the maid.

“It’s okay, Mrs. Kirby,” said Ashley with a weary sigh. But Emma Kirby was too busy staring at me and looking agitated.

“Ashley, how many times have I told you that you can’t have friends over while you’re working?” she told the young woman, obviously not remembering me from the night before when Dennis gave me a ride home.

Ashley looked horrified and opened her mouth to protest. But since I wasn’t exactly digging the way Emma Kirby was looking at us like we were about to tie her up and start swinging from the chandelier, and picking our noses with the shrimp forks, I spoke up.

“Kendra, actually.” I wondered why my name was so hard for some people to remember. “I came by to see Dennis but he’s not home. I was just wondering if you knew when he’d be home?”

“Why don’t we go in the family room while Ashley cleans up this mess.” She waved a dismissive hand at the broken glass on the floor. Ashley gave her evil look before heading to the pantry for a broom. I didn’t blame her one bit. She wasn’t the maid.

I was tempted to point out to Emma Kirby that it was
her
mess. Instead, I followed her through a spotless gourmet kitchen—heavy on the black granite and stainless steel—into a room just off the kitchen.

The room was large and decorated in soft blues, browns, and greens and though I could tell it had been professionally decorated, was warm, inviting, and comfortable. The same large floor to ceiling windows that had been in the dining room were also in this room. From the windows I could see a beautifully landscaped garden and a small white cottage at the back of the property on the other side of a large kidney-shaped swimming pool. I remembered Dennis telling me he lived in the cottage.

“Now why did you need to see Dennis?” Emma Kirby asked me after we’d settled into comfortable armchairs near the windows. She was casually dressed in tan slacks and a red V-neck shirt. Her mid length ash blonde hair was tied back from her face with a paisley scarf. She had on simple black ballet flats that probably cost more than my whole outfit.

“Um, nothing really important,” I said, scrambling to come up with an excuse. I hadn’t expected her to ask me why I was there or given much thought to my reason for coming over beyond returning her bracelet and watching her reaction. Now that I was there, I couldn’t figure out just how to bring it up without revealing why I’d been lurking around Clair Easton’s backyard in the first place. “Just reunion committee business,” I finally told her.

“I just assumed the reunion was cancelled.”

“Well, we haven’t officially decided to cancel it. We all feel really horrible about Ms. Flack, but she wasn’t really a member of our graduating class. There’s no reason to cancel the reunion.”

“Good. Then I guess I’ll go ahead and donate that money I was going to donate to the reunion.”

Just then Ashley came into the room with two pills and a glass of water on a tray. Emma Kirby snatched the pills and downed them in one big gulp of water.

“What money?” I asked when Ashley left the room.

“Dennis told me about the reunion fund money going missing. I sent Dennis over to tell Ivy Flack I’d be happy to donate five thousand dollars so you all could have your reunion. Then she died so I just assumed it would be cancelled.

“Wow. That’s awfully nice of you. I’m sure that would have made Ms. Flack happy.”

“You know, I thought it was really odd that Ivy Flack was even on the committee in the first place. Dennis said she was a lonely woman. I bet he was right. I mean she wasn’t married and had no kids. She probably didn’t have anything else better to do.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” I said suddenly getting an idea. “She was hardly lonely. I think she probably joined the committee to be near Gerald. They had the hots for each other.”

Emma Kirby’s face went momentarily slack. Then her eyes narrowed, and her lips tightened. It was a few long seconds before she spoke again. “Really. They were involved?” she asked slowly, looking down at the floor. I should have probably felt guilty about smearing the reputation of a dead woman. Strangely, I didn’t. Go figure. Maybe it was because Ivy Flack hadn’t been the person I thought she was. As for Gerald, I had no sympathy for him whatsoever.

“I wouldn’t exactly say they were dating, if you know what I mean. But one night before one of our committee meetings, I got to the high school early and went to Ms. Flack’s office. Her office door wasn’t all the way shut and I saw them together. They were all over each other.”

Emma’s face turned bright red. It never ceased to amaze me how cheaters could get so upset when they found out they’d been cheated on themselves. Surely, she hadn’t thought she was the only one Gerald was sleeping with? Could she truly be that naive?

“Maybe you were mistaken. Maybe it wasn’t Gerald,” she said in a slightly quavering voice.

“No. It was him alright. I’ve known Gerald since high school. I know him when I see him. Plus, Ms. Flack was his type,” I said, plunging the knife in deeper.

“What type would that be?” she asked in a cold flat voice.

“I don’t like to gossip,” I said, hoping my nose wasn’t about to do a Pinocchio. “But you know Gerald’s first wife was ten years older than him. I think he’s really into older women, especially older women who have money. Gerald has fillet mignon taste on a ground beef budget. Not to mention all those kids and ex-wives to support.”

Emma Kirby stood up abruptly. “Dennis had to go into work for a couple of hours. He’ll be home later. I’m sorry to be so rude, but I just remembered I have an appointment. Ashley will see you out.”