Текст книги "Alibi High"

Автор книги: Jeff Shelby

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TWENTY NINE

Jake handed me the beer. “Okay. Talk.”

I'd gotten home after stopping at Data Dork and the store and , true to his word, Jake had dinner ready, save for the sauce that he needed to heat up. Fifteen minutes later, he had spaghetti, garlic bread and a salad on the table, in the middle of yakking jabbering , starving children. I ate and listened, smiling occasionally, laughing a couple of times. Brenda had taken the kids on a field trip to the chiropractor's office and Grace told me all about the padded tables and the pictures of bones hanging up on the walls. Will rolled his eyes and announced the doctor wasn't really a doctor because he didn't have a medical degr ee but Sophie and Grace ignored him and thrusted coupons for a wellness check in my direction .

I smiled and tucked them into my pocket but I didn't ask questions and I didn't engage as much as I usually did. But I was tired, beaten down and more than a little frustrated. My level of involvement at dinner was far less than usual. The kids didn't pick up on it, but Jake did and he hustled me away from the table as soon as dinner was over , telling me he'd take care of the dishes and clean-up. I rarely took him up on it, but this time I did. I took a long hot shower, laid on the bed upstairs then, clad in my pajamas and slippers, snuggled with the two younger kids and listened while they read books out loud to each other and to me.

By the time nine o'clock rolled around, the kids were ready for bed and I was while he played games with the kids and got them ready for bed and smiled at him whe ready for some alone time with Jake. n he He tucked the kids into bed, then joined me in our bedroom came to bed , holding with a an opened bottle of beer.

The man knew me better than I'd ever been known. well.

I held the beer and took a long swallow before handing it back to him. “Thank you.”

“For?”

“Dinner. Occupying the kids Tucking the kids in . The beer.”

“Oh. Those.” He smiled. “Anytime.”

“I'll remember that.”

“I'm a very capable house-husband at times,” he said, taking his own drink from the beer.

“More than capable.”

“Now that we've established how awesome I am,” he said, handing me back the beer. “Talk.”

“ I don't know if you'll want to listen.”

“ Try me.”

I threw my head back on the pillow and gripped the beer with both hands. I then laid out my day for him in painstaking detail, from Harriet waiting for me in the morning to Harold's revelation before I got home. Half of the beer was gone by the time I finished.

“Whoa,” he said, reaching for the beer when I was done . He swallowed a mouthful. “And I thought I had a full day ? . ”

“ Yeah, s S eriously,” I said. “Who knew volunteering was going to be so awful?”

“ Me.” He grinned and took a drink and set the bottle on the nightstand. “So . L , l et's look at all of this step by step.”

“Oh great. Let's re – live it a third time.”

“Relax,” he said. “I meant to see if we can find some solutions.”

“There are no solutions,” I whined. told him.

“Issue number one,” he said, ignoring me. “Your sign-ups actually sound pretty good. Even if you didn't get another one, the show could run with fifteen . Correct?”

“It doesn't seem like enough.”

“It doesn't seem like enough because it isn't the number you wanted,” he said. “But , in fact, if you think plan for that each act might to be on stage for an average of five minutes, you have enough for at least a ninety minute show when you f . D on't forget to f actor in transitions and a fantastic emcee making who will make great jokes and enterta ining in the crowd.”

I smiled a him. “Yeah, but where will I find that guy?” I asked.

He grabbed my arm and squeezed playfully. “Any more questions like that and you'll actually have to go find one,” he said. “ Now isn't the time for jokes. Face it. You need me.”

“I always need you.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he said , waving a hand in the air. “But now you need me in a tux and at my witty best.”

“I suppose that's true.”

“Right,” he said. “So, I get that you're frustrated about the counselor and the president not being there, but, in truth, it all honesty, it really doesn't harm the show.”

“No, it just pisses me off,” I said, annoyed. “ Charlotte, I'm disappointed about Charlotte because she's I consider her my friend, but I understand. She can't change her tournament or whatever it is. But what in the world could Bingledorf have going on that she's backing out? I mean, that doesn't even seem fair.”

“Well, it seems she may have a lot going on,” Jake offered. “Which brings us to issue number two.”

“Her leaving Prism?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Actually, let's backtrack to issue number one and a half,” he said. “Can we finally admit that I've been right all along about this school being a total freaking sham? With an administration that has no clue what it's doing and teachers that have no business being in the classroom? Can we just admit I've been right so I can pat myself on the back?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes. Congratulations. Because that's the important thing right now.”

He smiled. “Thank you. I feel better. Okay. On to issue number two and Bingledorf's supposed move to greener pastures. I have to ask . W – w ould that really be such a bad thing at this point, given what you've seen and learned this week?”

“No, probably not,” I said admitted . I grabbed the blanket at the edge of the bed and pulled it up over my legs. “But the way she came at me about this stupid fundraiser, with all of the urgency and everything. W ..w hy would she do that if she's leaving? Why make such a big deal about it if she's on her way out?”

“Just because she might be leaving doesn't mean she doesn't care about the school or what's happened,” Jake said, sounding ridiculously reasonable. “Think about it this way . I : i f she is leaving, is there a better way to go out then after you've put together something that helps the school? There's a lot of potential goodwill there.”

“I'm the one putting it together,” I said. told him.

“You know what I mean. Just because she might be leaving for another position or for whatever doesn't mean she wants to leave the school in a lurch.”

“But how can a principal president leave her school in the middle of the school year?”

“Technically, it's still the beginning of the year,” Jake said. “It's not the middle. But who knows? We , in fact, really don't know anything about what she might be doing other than the husband of a PTA mom says shared a rumor that she's leaving.” He shrugged. “A lot of room for misunderstanding when the line between the tin cans stretches tight.”

“Give me the beer back,” I said. “And stop sounding so rational.”

He chuckled and handed me the b eer ottle . “And I'm sorry. You know how I feel about people leaving jobs. As long as they do it in a professional manner, no one should ever take crap for leaving a job. Ever.”

We'd had that discussion plenty of times. He always got frustrated with his colleagues at the recycling plant when someone gave their notice and people co-workers got their noses bent out of joint upset , as if they all were somehow contractually bound to stay there forever. He would always argue that if a person needed or wanted to leave, they should be allowed to without taking any flack for it. Why would you want to keep a person who didn't want to stay anyway, regardless of their reason? He always went out of his way to tell anyone that who was leaving that he'd miss them, but he was happy that they'd found a better opportunity.

Normally, I tended to agree with him, but this felt different. Probably because I was taking it personally.

I took a drink from the swallowed another mouthful of beer. “Still . I , I feel like teaching and school is a little different.”

“You don't know the circumstances, Daisy,” he reminded me. “You don't know anything other than what you've heard – and you haven't heard anything from Bingledorf.”

I frowned at him. “I thought you were here to comfort here me and make me feel better.”

“I am. ” He smiled. “ Is it not working?”

“Not particularly.”

“Are there rules here?”

I pointed the neck of the bottle at him. “Yes. Just agree and tell me I'm right and justified in all my whining.”

“Hmm. ” His fingers trailed up my arm and I shivered. “ I'm not sure those rules help the situation.”

“You're trying to help me.”

He sighed and slipped his arm beneath me, hugging me closer to him. “Alright. I wi ' ll stop making sense.”

I punched tapped him lightly in the stomach. “Stop.”

“I just said I would.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Moving on to issue number three,” he said. “Do you want to say anything about the computer teacher who is no n' t really a computer teacher?”

I'd thought plenty about that already and I'd already decided. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I believe him,” I explained . , thinking back to my conversatio n with Miles Riggler. “I really think believe he thought he'd have a semester to learn what he needed to learn and the wires just go crossed. And I think he's scrambling to learn what he needs to get caught up . The poor guy probably isn't sleeping at all.”

“I wouldn't either if I wasn't qualified for my job . , ” Jake muttered.

“Right,” I said. “I think the stress that guy has right now is enormous. But I think he's at least trying to do the right thing. And I do not want to be responsible for putting someone out of work.” I handed him back the beer. “He's not a bad guy at all.”

He took the beer, finished it finished it off and set the empty bottle on the nightstand. “Alright. Issue number three solved. Which brings us to issue number four.”

I twisted in his arms so I could see his face. “What is issue number four?”

“What we need to do to get you a private investigator's license.”

“What are you talking about?”

He laughed. “I'm at least half-serious. After your rundown about how the theft could've been a possible inside job, I think you're just as concerned with figuring out what happened to the computers.”

I'd dropped my list of possible suspects on him and he'd apparently taken that as a sign that I was working the case. “Oh, whatever.”

“And for the record,” he said, giving me a squeeze. “I don't necessarily think you're wrong. About any of them.”

“See? I'm not some complete nut job.”

“I never said you were.”

“But you intimated it.”

“Maybe a little,” he said, smiling. “But I think your reasoning makes sense. About all of them.”

“So who do you think is most likely?”

He took a deep breath and exhaled. “Most likely? I don't know. You know for sure of three people that who might've been on campus that weekend , right? Bingledorf, the computer dude and Harriet what's-her-face.” He paused, thinking. “I think I'd rule out Bingledorf. I mean, what the heck would her motive be to rob her own school? That doesn't seem likely to me.”

I didn't disagree with that and I'd more or less thought the same thing his reasoning . She may have had access, but I didn't think she really had reason the motive to steal an entire lab full of computers at the school she ran. I couldn't see any reason why she would've done it. thing she would have had to gain by doing it.

“So, for me, that leaves the computer dude and the Harriet lady,” Jake said. “If I had to pick one, I'd pick the dude.”

“Instead of Harriet?” I asked.

He nodded. “Yeah, I think so. I mean, I get what you're saying about her. They could kind of double dip if they were the thieves, selling what they stole and then maybe getting the s tore school to order through them. But that seems risky because there's no guarantee that Prism would order through Data Dummy.”

“Data Dork.”

“Whatever. But computer dude . ? It's sort of win-win for him.”

“How so?”

“First, he indicated he was hurting for money,” he said. “So he steals the machines and then sells them for some quick cash. Even if he doesn't know squat about computers, he would've known the layout of the room and where to unplug everything and he could've been in and out of there pretty quickly.”

That made sense. “Okay.”

“And, second,” he continued. “It buys him some time. Without the computers, he doesn't have to actually teach. I don't know what he's going to do in class, but whatever it is, it won't involve computers. So that not only gets him off the hook of looking like he doesn't know what he's doing totally inc ompetent – which he is , – but it also allows him some time to take whatever the classes are that he's taking these classes he told you about . At the very least, by the time new computers are installed, he probably would have done some catching up and would be a little more competent in the classroom.”

“ He's a fairly young guy, though,” I said. “I guess,” I said. “I just can't believe have a hard time believing he'd go to that extreme just to save face and make a little money.”

“So you're betting on Harriet?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

I shifted in the bed , bringing the blanket with me . “If I had to pick one, yes , s . S he'd be my pick.”

“Why?”

“The level of desperation,” I said. “And like you said about Riggler. It's win-win for her. Or for them. If they stole them, they could resell them and I'd have to think they'd have the know-how or the connections based on the fact that they run a computer shop. And then if they were able to secure the order from the school, it sounds like it would be enough to keep them in business for at least awhile.” I paused. “I think they had the stronger motive.”

Jake leaned back in the pillows, staring up at the ceiling. “I don't know.”

“A failing business and their liv lie eli hood versus a guy's competency in the classroom,” I said. “To me , that's a no-brainer.”

“ I guess,” he said. “And y “Y ou know we're just firing shots in the dark here right ? ” he asked. “ It very well might not be anyone in the school. O r just s maybe it's s omeone else who on the staff, someone you don't know at the school yet .”

“Sure,” I said , nodding . “But if it is someone connected to the school, I think those two are the most likely suspects . And I do think it was someone connected to the school. I mean, if you were gonna steal a bunch of computers, would a school be the first place you'd think of?”

He thought for a second. “Maybe. What school doesn't have computers?”

That was a fair point. “Well, yeah, but don't you think a robber would just, like, grab random computers rather than just focus on a lab? They'd have to know the alarm system and the layout of the school and all that if they weren't familiar with the school. It feels to me like they knew exactly what they wanted – and where to find it.”

“ I guess,” Jake said. Jake considered this. “But it still doesn't mean it's one of them.”

“No, but I wouldn't think the pool of suspects would be much larger,” I said. “How many more people would have weekend access to the building?”

“No idea,” he said. “That's why you're the investigator.”

I smacked his chest again. “I'm not an investigator.”

“You practically are,” he said, laughing chuckling . “The body in the coal chute. Windy Vista. Now this. You're like Jessica Fletcher , – just seventy t -t hree more times attractive.”

“I cannot believe you just compared me to that old lady in Cabot Cove,” I said, not nearly as offended as I sounded.

“Come on e ,” he said, still laughing. “It's a fair comparison at this point. And like I said earlier . A , a s much of this nosing around as you're doing, maybe we need to check on getting you your private eye license. You can hang out a shingle and get paid for this kind of stuff.”

“I don't want to get paid for this kind of stuff!” I said. “I want it to stop happening!”

“Well, it just keeps seeming to find finding you,” he said. “You 're kind of like a must be some sort of crime magnet.”

I frowned at him. “Can we go back to the part about me being way more attractive than Jessica Fletcher?”

He leaned over and switched off the light. He pulled me closer to him and nibbled on my earlobe .

I shivered. and I sighed.

“Seventy – four times,” he whispered. “Seventy – four times more attractive than old what's-her-name.”

Flattery got him everywhere.

THIRTY

I slept well for the first time all week like a dead person . I wasn't sure whether it was the conversation with Jake, the end result of his flattery, the beer , or my complete exhaustion, but once I closed my eyes, I didn't open them again until my alarm beeped in my ear.

Sleeping the entire night made a huge difference in how I felt when the alarm went off. I didn't groan and I didn't hit snooze when the alarm sounded. I almost jumped was out of bed, my eyes w ere ide open , ready to put the disappointment and negativity of the previous day behind me. and I felt like I could've run five miles if I believed in exercising or running when you weren't being chased. I showered, got dressed and made breakfast , a plateful of homemade waffles, before anyone else was even out of bed.

Emily was the next one up. Her morning routine was extremely long and detailed, as a fifteen – yea r r– old girl apparently needs hours to get ready to look exactly perfect for a normal day of school. The amount of time and detail she gave to her hair and makeup each morning rivaled what I assumed NASA gave allotted to building the space shuttle. When she was finally ready for launch, she sauntered out to the kitchen table for a waffle.

“Okay,” I said, sittin g now g down next to her with my , my cup of coffee freshly topped off . “ We need to make some decisions.” Hand me your phone.”

She took speared a waffle from the plate and eyed me. “ About What ?”

“ About our act for the talent show.” “You owed me an idea for the talent show,” I said. “Last night. Dinner was your deadline. And you didn't deliver.”

“ What??” Her eyebrows almost disappeared into her hairline.

I held out my hand. “Hand it over.”

“ Oh, that's easy,” she said. “We aren't doing one.” Her expression was horrified. “No!”

“ Emily ? ” “So you have an idea, then?” I asked sweetly. “For the show?”

“ I'm not doing it .”

“ Emily?”

“ What?” Yes,” she said bitterly. “We should cancel it.”

“ Too late,” I announced. “Guess I'm gonna need your phone.”

“ Wait,” she said, her fork hovering in the air. I shifted so she wouldn't be tempted to stab me with it. “Hang on.”

“ Are you getting an idea?” I asked.

“ I'm trying,” she said, her eyes narrowed. She stared down at her uneaten waffle. “We just...don't have any talent.”

“ You don't have a choice,” I said. “We're doing it and if that embarrasses you, I'd suggest getting over it now because it's not going away. I'm organizing the show – for your school, that you so dearly love, I might add – and we are going to be performing in the show. Get over it. Today.”

Her shoulders slumped and I could see her shifting into whiner mode. It wasn't often that I felt the need to flex my mother muscles, but this seemed like an appropriate moment. I was sympathetic to her potential embarrassment, but I was doing all of this for her. If she wasn't at Prism and if she didn't like the school as much as she did, I would've been home with the other three kids, causing all sorts of mayhem. I might not have been volunteering at the school specifically for her, but I was absolutely there because of her and there was no way she was going to get out of participating.

Plus, I believed that a little embarrassment was good for the soul.

“ We don't have any talent,” Emily muttered, staring into an abyss of waffles and syrup.

“Nonsense,” I said. “There are plenty of things we are talented at.”

“I don't think that you cooking and me doing my makeup would be very entertaining.”

“Thank you for the backhanded compliment,” I said. “You know, the easiest thing to do would be a lip-synch of some sort.”

“The easiest thing to do would be to run away,” she whispered.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“ I didn't think so,” I said. “In high school You know , I actually came in second place in the talent sho w w when I was in high school .”

“How many acts were there? ” she asked. “ Three?

”

I gave her a withering stare. “Ha. Funny. I don't recall how many there were, but I do know that my friends and I came in second place for doing an amazing air guitar lip-synch version of Guns N Roses' “ ' Welcome To The Jungle. ” '”

She stared blankl y at me. “Guns and what?”

“Roses. Probably the most influential rock band of the modern era.”

She scowled at me over her plate. “Yeah, I've never heard of them, so they are probably lame .” ,” she said, scowling over her plate.

“Wrong,” I said. “They were the opposite of lame. The opposite of Justin Bieber and One Direction.”

“Like I even like them.”

“You get my point,” I said. “And as a concession to you, I will let you choose the music that we perform to.”

She grunted. “Great.”

“ So before we have dinner tonight, I will need an answer,” I said. “Deal?” And keep your phone.” She looked up and I added, “Provided you give me the name of the song we're doing. Tonight. At dinner.”

“ Whatever.” She sighed. “Fine.”

“ No. Deal?” I asked, pressing her. “I get the name of the song we're doing and you keep your phone.”

She pushed her plate away like she was about to vomit . “Fine. Deal.”

“ I'm glad to see you're warming to this Good ,” I said , smiling . It pained me a little to see her so obviously put out but she was being way too melodramatic for my taste. “Now, I need a little more help.”

If I'd stabbed her in the ribs, she would've looked less put out. “Now what?”

“I need the names of a couple of teachers who you think would might make good performers,” I said. “Teachers who are either popular or ones who you think who would be fun to see onstage.”

She drank some of her orange juice. “I don't know.”

“You know, we can just do the same number I did in high school . ,” I told her. “ Get some bandanas, some ripped shirts – ”

“ Oh god,” Emily s aid, shaking hook her head and staring up at the ceiling. “Fine. Fine. Did you ask Mr. Pendleton? He's not a total weirdo.”

I made a mental note of his name. “What does he teach?”

“History,” she said. “I haven't had him, but kids like him.”

“I have no n' t asked him, but I will today,” I said. “Who else?”

She thought for a moment. “Did you talk to Ms. Nordhoff?”

“She can't be there.”

Emily frowned. “I thought everyone , like, had to be there.”

“She has a prior commitment,” I explained. “She's playing in some poker tournament for charity and she can't get out of it.”

Emily snorted and the first thing resembling something that resembled a smile flitted across her mouth. “For charity? Yeah, right.”

“That's what she said,” I told her. “Some charity tournament for a friend that she committed to awhile ago.”

She snorted again. “I'm guessing the charity is her.”

“What are you talking about?”

She stabbed her fork into her waffle and took a bite. “She's practically, like, a professional poker player, Mom.”

I remembered Charlotte telling me that she didn't even know what she was doing and that she'd just signed up as a favor to a friend. “What?”

Emily nodded. “She's always playing on her computer. I know at least four people who say they've been in her office and seen it on her screen or like minimized on her screen or whatever. But she was playing online. And then Denny Bateman said his parents saw her up at River Star , at least twice. a couple of times. Denny said his dad actually played in a game with her. They sat at the same table or something. Denny said his dad said she was the best player at the table.” Emily smirked. “So I guarantee you she's not playing in some charity tournament. Or if she is, she can probably win money for herself. She's a total gambler.”

I leaned back in my chair. That was completely at odds with the way Charlotte had portrayed her involvement with whatever it was she was playing in the tournament . I wondered if what Emily had heard were rumors that had simply grown in size or if there was any truth to them. And if the re was truth to them y weren't rumors , why had Charlotte lied to me? I supposed that it could have been that she Perhaps she simply didn't want hadn't wanted to tell me she couldn't be at the fundraiser and was . Maybe that was her way of trying to let me down easy. Either way, the whole story that Emily had just told me was kind of odd.

Just like the rest of my week at Prism.

Emily pushed back from the table and picked up her plate. “Do we have to wear costumes?”

“What?”

“For the stupid lip synch thing,” she said, glaring at me again. “Do we have to wear costumes?”

“ Well, I don't think we should perform in the nude. That's not what we're going for here... ”

“Mom.”

“Yes, we should have some sort of costume,” I told her. “We can't just wing it.”

She stared at me for a long moment . , her eyes filling with tears.

“You know this is going to ruin my life, right?” she said. “Like, I might have to change schools or something.”

I tried not to feel like the worst mom ever. She was great at putting on guilt trips. “Or you'll be the most popular girl in school after we totally rock the talent show !” ,” I said, pasting a bright smile on my face.

She stared at me again . , then turned on her heel and headed for her room. But not before I heard the words she muttered on her way out.

Then she headed for her room.

“These are the days I'm convinced I'm adopted ,” she muttered . ”