Schooled in Murder (6 page)

I said, “There’s nothing about a murder investigation in the union contract.”

“Look,” Milovec said, “we need to know what is going on. Gracie was a good friend. It’s awful she’s dead. They’ve been questioning everybody. We need union representation.”

“Did you kill her?”

He seemed taken aback by the question.

“Of course not. No.”

I turned to Schaven. “Did you?”

“Don’t be absurd. Certainly not.”

I gazed at Pinyon.

“I didn’t do it,” he said.

“Then you three have nothing to worry about.” Milovec said, “They’re trampling on our rights.” “Which rights?” “First Amendment rights.”

I sighed. Another moron misinterpreting the First Amendment. I asked, “What does the First Amendment say?”

“It says we have rights,” Milovec said.

“You need to read it again and realize that it has nothing in there about police activity, who they can and cannot talk to, and who they can or cannot arrest. You may be thinking of the Fourth or Fifth Amendment, but you have no First Amendment rights here.”

Pinyon said, “The union has to hire us a lawyer.”

“Not in this case,” I said.

Pinyon said, “I knew there was no reason to join the union. I knew you couldn’t protect us.”

Years ago this kind of statement had been followed by a threat to quit the union. Then we negotiated a “fair share” clause in the contract. That meant that you didn’t have to be in the union, but since you got the benefit of the services you had to pay dues. Anti-union people hated it. I found it wonderful. I always thought I’m-going-to-quit-if-I-don’t-get-my-way stopped when you were about ten.

I said, “Are you saying you need protection here? Because if you are, my advice is to shut your mouth, get your cell phone out, and start calling attorneys.”

Pinyon said, “I didn’t kill her, but they can’t keep us here.”

I said, “I’m sure they’re questioning everybody.” Schaven said, “It has to be one of the goddamn old guard who killed her.”

“Why’s that?” I asked.

“Who else had motivation?” Milovec asked.

I said, “I wouldn’t know, and that’s not union business.”

“But it’s part of what’s happened to us,” Schaven said. “Those people are going to divulge all the fights in the department. It’s going to look awful.”

Pinyon said, “You know people in the other faction. You talk to them. Maybe you could find something out.”

“I talk to both factions.”

Schaven said, “But this is murder. Think how this reflects on all of us.”

“As far as I can tell,” I said, “it doesn’t. How would it? There’s a killer. It reflects on him or her.”

“But a killer? How could we have been working all this time with a killer and not know?”

I said, “Most of us are capable of crimes of passion. It’s just that we have enough blocks to stop ourselves before we go through with it. Were Mabel and Gracie having an affair?”

Schaven said, “Yes.”

Milovec said, “No.”

Pinyon shrugged.

I sat down on a nearby desk. I raised an eyebrow. I said, “Any one of you care to explain?”

They all started to talk at once. Glares all around. Fighting in the ranks of the suckups. A good thing? I hoped so.

When their squabbling ran down, I asked, “Do the police know there are varying views on their relationship?”

“I didn’t tell them,” Milovec said.

Schaven said, “They’re going to find out. It’s not as if it was much of a secret.”

I said, “I’d never heard about it.” Pinyon said, “I’d heard a rumor.”

I said, “Who would know if they were having an affair? Isn’t Mabel Spandrel married?”

“Her husband is always somewhere at some convention. He writes lurid science-fiction novels that he’s trying to get
someone to buy. He goes to these conventions to try and get an agent or an editor or something. He’s never around.”

“It couldn’t have been either husband,” Milovec said. “They would have had to get into the building. Even our security guards have that minimal level of competence.”

I said, “They could easily get in the faculty entrance.”

Schaven said, “It’s not a motive for murder. Maybe if Gracie’s husband found out, but he’s never home. He runs that coffeehouse.”

Milovec said, “Why would any of us care if they were having an affair?”

“Somebody jealous?” Pinyon asked.

I asked, “Who do you think killed her?”

Schaven said, “Brook? Jourdan? You heard what they were saying.”

“As did you. Don’t you get tired of listening at doors? Don’t you find it childish?”

Schaven said, “I find things out. I learn about plots against the administration.”

“What are they going to do,” I asked, “overthrow them, put tanks in the parking lot, machine gun emplacements at the top of stairways?”

“You know how schools can be,” Schaven said. “If the teachers are against you, it can be awfully tough for an administrator. I wanted the department to run well. I wanted everybody to get along. Some of us were working on that. Others were trying to thwart us at every turn. Mabel was lucky that she had some people behind her.”

I said, “But Mabel’s not dead; Gracie is. If someone is angry about the way things are going, why not kill Mabel? Gracie’s death won’t have an effect on the administration. Although I suppose it would on a personal note, if they were having an affair, but school policy wouldn’t change.”

Schaven said, “It would if Mabel was unfairly accused of murder.”

Pinyon said, “Maybe it was a conspiracy hatched by the old guard. They’d kill Gracie and try to pin it on Mabel.”

“Do you really think that many people could keep that kind of thing quiet?”

Pinyon said, “Well, maybe one of them thought it up and carried it out. He wouldn’t have to tell the others, but the conspiracy and death could have the same effect. They’re trying to ruin what we’re doing.”

I said, “I’ve seen lots of paranoia on both sides. Some of it might be justified, some not.” I pointed at Pinyon. “Where did you get that information you had today on who’d been where?”

“I don’t have to reveal my sources.” His face was red from the roots of his spiked blond hair to the scruffy bits of hair that clung to his chin.

I said, “No, you don’t have to reveal your sources, but you’re the ones who came to me. The fight started at the meeting. The focus was what you knew. I’m sure the police will be interested.”

Pinyon said, “I haven’t talked to them yet. Do you think I should be worried? Maybe I should get a lawyer.”

“Did you do something illegal to get those records?”

“I didn’t.”

“Meaning somebody else did.” “I’m not saying.”

I said, “The only place all those records would be is in each teacher’s personnel file, current and former employees. You don’t have access to those files, or you’re not supposed to.”

“I didn’t look in anybody’s file.”

“Then who did?”

Milovec said, “I’m sure those files had nothing to do with the killing. It was just something to make a point.”

I didn’t agree, but I didn’t think I’d get any information either. I was more suspicious than ever about what these three were up to.

I asked, “Does Mabel have an alibi for the time of the murder?”

Schaven said, “I don’t know. But you’ve got to help us. You’ve dealt with this kind of thing.”

“My experience doesn’t give me any insight. Anybody can ask questions, but the police usually don’t like it.”

Schaven said, “No one on the faculty knows more cops than you do. You always have those behaviorally disturbed kids. You’re always meeting with some social worker or therapist or BD teacher or learning disabilities teacher. We’ve all got to do something. The school’s reputation is at stake. If the fighting that was going on gets into the papers, we’re going to look like fools. What if the police blab? These kinds of things always get out. I don’t want to be mentioned in the papers. People’s good names could be ruined in this community. Think of people’s names in the paper. Mabel doesn’t deserve to come under suspicion.”

Milovec said, “I think someone in the old guard did it. I think this is the thing that is going to finally bring them down, and they are going to lose their grip on this department. They think they run the place.”

Jourdan and the others earlier hadn’t sounded like a group that was running anything.

I said, “If there was something I could do to help prove who killed her, I would do so. I can’t make any promises to help any faction or to get any results or even to do anything proactive. If you or any of your friends are questioned, my suggestion is that you tell the truth.”

I left. Police personnel still cluttered the halls. I saw the
administrators down at one end of the hall talking to Gault and Vulmea. I wondered if Mabel really was under suspicion or even arrested. That rumor and a million others would continue to fly. I wondered what Schaven, Milovec, and Pinyon wanted out of me. I walked down to Jourdan’s classroom.

7

“You’ve got to help me,” Jourdan said. “You’re the union rep.”

“What’s happened?” I asked.

“The police were awful. They asked about every single thing I said to Gracie today and any other day. They wanted to know about every fight. I began to tell them. They didn’t see how awful those assholes have been. I could tell they thought it was all me. They just wanted to know how involved I was. I couldn’t help myself. I kept talking and talking. I should have shut up. I should have asked for a lawyer. Does the union provide lawyers for stuff like this? I can’t afford a lawyer. What am I going to do?”

This was actually a large part of a union rep’s job, holding their hands in the midst of a crisis over which the union had no jurisdiction or power or influence. As with so many of them, there was history here. Jourdan’s secrets were murkier than most. It had been during my first year as the building’s union rep some years ago. Jourdan had actually been head of the department at the time. I knew the two versions to the story because the woman involved had come to me as well. Depending on whom you believed, at the
departmental Christmas party that year Jourdan had made a drunken pass at her, trying to use his power of evaluation over her to get her to consent. The other version was that she was drunk and trying to seduce him so that she would be given tenure. This version included Jourdan turning her down because he was faithful to his wife. Each had come to me the day after the party. I immediately got in touch with the union president and attorneys. Meanwhile, Jourdan and the woman both called the police. Both called the federal government offices that handle sexual harassment cases. Then the next day, poof, it was over. I got no explanation. Neither came to me and said it was over. It just died. I’d gotten abashed looks from both of them but no explanation. They weren’t telling, and I knew better than to ask. I don’t go looking for business. The next year Jourdan was no longer head of the department, and the woman no longer taught in the school district. I have no idea which of them was lying. Maybe there was even a third explanation–they were both drunk and said embarrassing things which they were sorry for later, but they didn’t know how to apologize or how to back off. Or a fourth explanation–they were both lying sacks of shit, trying to cover their asses.

I said, “Jourdan, you didn’t kill her.”

“But I don’t have an alibi. I think those suckups probably planned all this. I think they’d kill one of their own in some convoluted attempt to destroy the rest of us. Remember when Pinyon was getting those hate notes? It turned out he was writing them himself.”

“No one proved that,” I pointed out.

“They were typed. They were left in his mailbox. There was never a written signature. No one ever saw anyone else near his mailbox. Of course he wrote them. They were trying to get sympathy for their own side. They wanted to make us look bad.”

I said, “I’m not sure they’re capable of Byzantine plots on that level.”

“I wouldn’t put anything past them. They are desperate and sick people. Killing one of their own would be the exact kind of thing their sick minds would come up with.”

Good to know each side was accusing the other equally. Sick behavior didn’t respect political boundaries.