Relative Danger Read online

  “Oh.” The calendar beside her regained my attention. May third. Why was that date important? Gil’s birthday! Scenes scattered through my brain. Experiences we’d shared, the joy, the intimate moments. The hot sex. Imaginings made me smile. Then I recalled that things were different now. I needed a gift, but one that wasn’t remotely romantic. I borrowed Petre’s phone book, looked up a number, and called.

  Waiting for an answer, I spied the older detective I’d seen yesterday coming in from the corridor. He guided Marisa Hernandez through the office. She kept her gaze down toward her denim jacket, not making eye contact with anyone, and went with him into an inner office. The door shut.

  A recording responded to my call. “Sorry we’re closed. Your business is important to us, so please leave a message.”

  “I’d like to rent someone,” I said, giving all the information. I left my phone number in case they’d have questions and hung up wondering about Hernandez.

  Anne Little returned from the rear hall and came to me. “Did I remember to tell you that today you have duty?”

  “Duty?”

  She nodded, and her gold hoop earrings danced. “Lately we’ve had teachers pulling duty. But yours is duty five, so it’s not until your hall’s lunch break. And then after school with the buses.” She stretched a long finger to the left. “At noon you go out the door down that hall. And after school, you go out there.” While she turned, I saw her skirt’s ink stain. I smiled, not about to tell her she had it. How dare she give me duty! “Just see that nothing looks suspicious and nobody gets in trouble,” she said. “Make sure nobody drinks liquor or smokes, especially weed. And after school, don’t let any kids get in anybody else’s car.”

  “Is that all?”

  “And if a fight starts, break it up.”

  Being here to make Kat graduate suddenly seemed much less appealing. But maybe while I stood on duty, I’d have an opportunity to speak with Kat. She could keep me company. Maybe she’d know who belonged in which vehicle and who might try to puff weed. And maybe Marisa Hernandez would be out there on duty again. Then all three of us could chat. I could help clear up any misunderstanding they might share. Ah, this duty thing was sounding better.

  I returned the phone book to Cynthia Petre’s desk and accidentally knocked over her calendar. Replacing it, I noticed a framed picture, which had stood beside it. Kat’s ex-boyfriend. “John Winston,” I said.

  Petre’s smile showed me the rubber bands that stretched across her braces. “John’s my nephew. We’re so proud of him.”

  I made no comment and started out the door. Hannah Hendrick came from behind. “Oh, Mrs. Gunther, today you’ll be taking Miss Fleet’s place. She said she would leave a sub folder.” With something written in it? “It will tell you everything you have to do.”

  Administrators here seemed to know little about what transpired in teachers’ classrooms.

  A perspiration odor oozed through corridors, especially from large boys showing off too-heavy jackets with letters from sports. A clump of long-haired males gave off an unusual tangy smell that might have been marijuana. I glanced back, making certain they weren’t smoking. I saw some teens who’d been in class with me. Others I wasn’t certain about, for the sleepers had kept their heads down. A few kids looked me over. I answered their stares with my teacher-from-hell glare.

  “Yeah, they’re asking her about that janitor,” a female voice said. I turned and saw that Roxy was the speaker. Spying me, she made angry eyes and spun away. Had she been talking about Miss Hernandez? Surely the girl would not tell me more. But I hoped someone would.

  Abby Jeansonne’s door was open when I found the hall I’d been in yesterday. “Hello,” I said, poking my head into her room. She was scribbling on papers, the red-black bangs draped over her eyes.

  She flung her hair aside to see me. “Back again?”

  “Yes, today I’m Miss Fleet.”

  “Oh, chemistry.”

  “Chemistry!” I recalled little of science, and my knowledge of chemistry could fit into my smallest finger. “I never took that subject,” I said, willing myself not to panic.

  She shoved the reddish mane off her neck. “Chemistry’s not too difficult. It’ll come to you.”

  That was easy for a science major to say. But I bolstered myself, recalling my mission. I needed to discover some things if I was going to get Kat to remain here these next few days. What was being said about her favorite teacher, and why had that cop taken her into the office? A less-than-direct approach seemed most appropriate. I said, “Oh, yesterday I met Marisa Hernandez. She seems like a nice person.”

  Abby wrinkled her nose. “The Spanish lady.”

  “Is she from Spain?”

  “No way, born and raised a few streets over, around Grant Labruzzo’s house.”

  “Really? What kind of teacher is she?”

  Abby gave me a one-eyed stare. “She’s another one of those.”

  “Ah.” I inclined my head. “One of those…?”

  “Yes.” Abby returned her attention to her papers.

  I was no further along than before. But my students would come to class soon, and I would have to teach chemistry. I unlocked Miss Fleet’s door, dreading what I’d find.

  Chapter 10

  My apprehension level soared as I stared into the chemistry lab. I felt less prepared to go into that room than any I’d ever entered.

  A sulfurous odor seemed imbedded in its pale green walls. Stained glass beakers clustered on shelves, alongside liquid-filled jars holding small items that might have been unborn things. A skeleton hung in a far corner near a sink. Posters with S’s and P’s and other letters teased me in formulas. For all I knew, they’d been written in Swahili. Framed black and white pictures of old men hung on the wall, and Einstein’s was the only face I recognized. The room might have been in order, yet to me it appeared chaotic.

  I plunked my purse down on Miss Fleet’s worn desk that held only one folder. Fine print labeled it Substitute Teacher. I dropped to Fleet’s chair, held my breath, and flipped the folder open.

  Seating Charts headed the pages that were paper-clipped together. These pages were covered with squares, and each square named a student. Handwriting that slanted to the left gave instructions. Please give out these worksheets. Students will know what to do with them.

  I exhaled. Material on the attached worksheets looked abstract. How nice that the teens would know what to do with them. I certainly didn’t. Miss Fleet also wrote, If any student gives you trouble, just pull the string attached to the wall speaker, and someone will come from the office. I glanced up behind her desk and located the speaker with a clean white string dangling. I was ready. Armed with the worksheets and a string.

  The bell rang, and I sprang to my feet. Outside the door I stood erect, confident. I was their leader. Teacher from Hades.

  Students swarmed toward my room. Ruffians who had been in class with me yesterday came, but to my relief, they turned toward other doorways. A girl with a springy step neared. “Hi!” she said, looking me straight in the eye. How different. Few teens from the construction class had made eye contact.

  “Hello,” I said, a smile rising to my face. I shoved it away. Teachers shouldn’t smile until Christmas, I’d once heard a teacher friend say. Christmas had long gone, but I thought I’d pay heed to that warning. Today I was the gruff sergeant. I plastered on a frown and merely nodded to the kids who entered. John Winston came through the doorway and gave me a big smile. He and the others all sat. These youths appeared clean-cut. Pleasant expressions. Where were all my bad guys? The loudspeaker crackled, and everyone rose. They slapped right hands on their hearts, and every one of them recited the Pledge.

  A conspiracy. They were waiting until announcements were over. And then—

  “Some students haven’t picked up spring pictures yet,” Anne Little said through the speaker. She then reminded seniors to mail their graduation announcements.

  Was Kat
in a classroom, hearing those instructions? I wouldn’t wait for her to mail my announcement; I’d take mine in hand. A sudden thought made me grin. I had a mail truck. Wouldn’t it be fun if I delivered mail for a day? But I didn’t know most streets in this area, I realized, letting the idea fade. Streets. Miss Hernandez lived near the man who’d died. Could their locations be important?

  I didn’t know that, or whether Kat showed up today, but students were smiling at me. Mrs. Little quit talking. Now class should start. I stared at young adults—they at me. One young man wore facial hair cut in the slimmest beard that circled his chin and ran up to his earlobes. A hand shot up. “Yes?” I said.

  An adorable boy spoke. “Miss Fleet said to tell you her roll book is in that top drawer.”

  “Thank you, Mr.…”

  “Cody Steward. Our names are on those seating charts.”

  Oh, the charts. I opened the subfolder to first period. “I’m Mrs. Gunther, and I’ll be taking your teacher’s place today. Would you please answer the roll? Cindy Adams,” I called.

  “Here.” A girl lifted her hand and lowered it.

  “Cathy Adler,” I said.

  “Present.” Cathy’s fingers slid up and down.

  “Chad…Cherish…Charity.” I was reciting a litany of C’s. “Rodney,” I said, grinning. “Ah, Rodney.”

  “Right here.” A dark-skinned boy with a friendly smile raised his hand. I nodded, realizing I also smiled. I couldn’t help it, but wasn’t worried. If a killer was at this school, he or she wasn’t in this classroom. “Would you like me to pass out the worksheets?” Rodney asked.

  He did, and with little noise, students began working. John Winston took out an ink pen. He’d worn his hair longer in the picture on Cynthia Petre’s desk. Halfway during the period, all heads were still upright. No one snored. These kids didn’t even look tired. Most took their time, pondering the worksheet questions. John Winston’s eyes scanned words quickly before he penned answers. He looked like the all-American boy, much too pleasant to have made up that lie about Miss Hernandez to worry Kat.

  So Marisa Hernandez had not been arrested yesterday. She was here today. But she was with the police. Of course they’d been questioning lots of people.

  I wandered down aisles and stopped beside John. He glanced up, and I pointed to his answers. “Those look good.”

  “Thanks. Do you know how to work these problems?”

  “Sorry, I didn’t take chemistry.”

  “Lucky you.” He waited until I moved on before he wrote more.

  Students set their completed worksheets in a tray on an old credenza. They returned to their desks and read. No one seemed worried about my age or their naptime, and I adjusted to the sulfur smell. Wondered why a detective had Miss Hernandez. Why someone had told Kat that she’d been arrested. I trotted back to John Winston’s desk. Leaning close, I spoke softly. “Kat’s my grandchild.” He didn’t look surprised, so I continued. “Yesterday Kat received a note in a class about Miss Hernandez.”

  John made no change of expression. “So?” he said in a quiet voice.

  “You were in that room. Did you happen to send her the note?”

  John’s demeanor altered. His aqua-blue eyes narrowed. “I don’t pass notes in classes!” His voice carried enough to make nearby kids stare at him and me. “Did Kat tell you I sent her one?” John asked.

  I shook my head. “She doesn’t know who wrote the note.”

  “It sure wasn’t me.”

  During the rest of the period, John’s shoulders kept a rigid set. He didn’t write on his worksheet. Irritation built on his face. Class ended with a bell, and teens waited to be dismissed. They left in orderly fashion. Most told me goodbye, they hoped I’d come back. John stared straight ahead and said nothing. Tension in my neck told me that maybe I shouldn’t have said anything to him about Kat.

  Rowdy kids roared toward me, not giving me time to contemplate. I stood firm, getting ready for them. They turned into other doorways, and smiling youths approached mine. Where were my hoodlums?

  I spied Sledge. He stopped, dead center in the hall, and nailed me with his glare. I planted my feet on the floor and my fists on my hips. Sledge growled a low mutter. He shifted into another room.

  The fear that had sprung to my chest fluttered away, and I found my second class well behaved. So were those in the next period, which zoomed by. All of the teens seemed normal, like Kat. “What happened?” I asked after another bell, when I stepped across to Abby’s room. “Did somebody ship off the students I had yesterday and ship in a new friendlier batch?”

  She didn’t look up from the papers on her desk. “Today you have mainly honor students. Most of them are in the band.”

  I immediately liked the band. And looked forward to my next classes. Kat had never played anything but her stereo, but she was taking honors classes. I couldn’t recall whether she’d scheduled chemistry. Returning to my room, I sat. Abby’s voice came from the corridor. “Thank goodness for lunch break.”

  “Lunch break. When is that?”

  “Now.”

  I sprinted through the hall past Abby. “Where’s duty five?” I asked over my shoulder.

  “Down the main corridor and out the front door.”

  I smelled pizza. “One more thing. When do teachers on duty eat lunch?”

  “We bring a sandwich. You have to eat while you’re out there.”

  My stomach grumbled almost as much as the students who began filling the halls. I went past them into the yard, and wind pressed my skirt into a mold of my lower body. I tugged the fabric loose. Breezes had swept off the earlier humidity and left behind sweet cool air. No students were out yet. They’d gone for lunch, I decided, dropping to a bench and wishing they would bring me some.

  I was pleased to see tiny red flowers growing in a small rectangle of grass, contrasting with the surrounding concrete slabs. Students might find slivers of nature here if they looked hard enough, and the unhappy teenagers might calm down. The sidewalk before me seemed to lead to outdoor classrooms. Parked in front of them were sedans, newer model trucks, and SUVs, surely belonging to teachers. I moved closer and saw doors numbered 1, 2, 3. The 3 stopped me from looking at more. Today was the third, Gil’s birthday.

  Musing made me smile. We’d held hands often, and each of us touched the other’s back when we walked by. We’d made love and then fed each other Gil’s fresh-baked cookies, the chocolate chips melting on our fingers. One time Gil smeared the moist chocolate down my breasts. We laughed afterward because he couldn’t let all that good chocolate go to waste.

  I scowled, thrusting away those mental pictures. They had come from the past. They made me lonely. And hungry. Gil’s smile jumped back into view. How would he like receiving my gift today?

  Male students with deep voices came out the front doors, followed by girls with giddy laughter, and I was glad they’d stopped my unproductive thoughts. Until I saw Roxy. She was describing someone, loudly using creative expletives. I stopped her by saying, “Hello, Roxy.”

  A girl near her muttered a curse. The girl scurried back inside, shoving something into her purse. She probably wanted to smoke, but because I stood guard here, she might now try it in the girls’ restroom.

  Roxy did an about-face and reached for the door handle. “Have you seen Kat today?” I asked before she vanished. Roxy shook her head and yanked on the door. I touched her shoulder. “Do you have any classes with her?”

  “I don’t talk about nerds,” she spat.

  “Oh.” I slipped my hand off her arm. “I didn’t know Kat was a…well, I should have figured.”

  Roxy let the door go. She turned to me, her navy eyes not quite so harsh. “Kat’s not that bad. I mean, she is a nerd and all. But she’s not like the rest of them.”

  I smiled. Here was a kid with edges. Roxy seemed hard to the core, but she probably wasn’t. “You seem to like her.”

  “Kat’s all right. Yeah, she’s okay.” Roxy appeared
to have forgotten her mission, probably of smoking. Maybe pot. Blankly, she stared out at the red flowers.

  “Aren’t they pretty?” I asked.

  She didn’t reward me with another response. Roxy gazed at the parking lot, the wind blowing her stringy hair, revealing a thick brown scar along her neckline. From a recent knife fight? I shuddered, thinking of what this child could have done to Kat.

  A crinkling sounded as Roxy drew a bag of Cheetos out of a small purse. She yanked the bag open, tossed golden puffs into her mouth, and crunched, making my mouth water. “Want some?” she said.

  “Just a couple.” I grabbed four.

  “Catch a few more.” Roxy widened the bag and made my belly very happy. She sent the empty bag flying to a plastic barrel, brushed crumbs off her fingers, and grabbed the door handle. “You don’t know much about schools, do you?” she asked.

  “It’s been awhile.”

  She grinned. “You’re short, you know that?”

  “Vertically challenged,” I said.

  Roxy laughed. She spun around to face me. “You’re pretty cool, just like Kat.”

  Again I was cool. So was my grandchild. “Roxy, is Kat here today?”

  “Don’t know. I didn’t see her.”

  Disappointment dropped in. But since I was cool, maybe Roxy would tell me other things. “I heard you talking about the custodian this morning,” I said.

  “Yeah, the dead guy.”

  “I saw policemen here. They’re still checking out the accident?”

  “Accident, ha! Somebody killed the dude.”

  I moved closer. Her harsh eyes stopped me, and I took a step back. “Who would have done such a thing?”

  She gave me an incredulous stare. “Haven’t you seen all the punks around here?”

  “You think a student could have murdered someone?”

  “Just like that.” Roxy snapped blunt fingers. “Or a teacher.”

  My chest sank. Yesterday I’d told myself someone here could have killed, but I hadn’t really believed it. Not here. Not a student or teacher near my precious Katherine.