Murder is Elementary (A Susan Wiles Schoolhouse Mystery Book 1)

  Murder Is Elementary

  (A Susan Wiles Schoolhouse Mystery)

  Diane Weiner

  This book is dedicated to my husband, Robert, and my children––Allison, Kevin, Eric, and Laura––for all their help, enthusiasm, and support

  Chapter 1

  Susan Wiles scanned the audience––parents videotaping with their smart phones, angelic grandparents, restless siblings, weary teachers. Before retirement, Susan had always loved being in charge of the annual holiday concert. She was proud to have had her elementary chorus singing in two part harmony. With this new music teacher, they were singing tired and true Christmas carols, all in unison. They weren’t even making any dynamic contrasts or carrying the phrases through to the end of the bars. The Twelve Days of Christmas, really? Show some originality.

  Susan remembered how the anticipation of winter break had always made her feel as if popcorn kernels were bursting under her skin. Now she felt like vanilla frosting––yes, it was sweet to be retired but honestly, how much vanilla frosting could you eat at one sitting? Whenever she hinted at missing work, her husband Mike quickly reminded her of the rehearsals which often spanned the dinner hour, the frayed bowties and vests that the school couldn’t afford to replace, and…the technology. When did accompanying a chorus on a Wurlitzer console give way to hooking up an ipod to a sound system?

  Susan wiped her wire-rimmed glasses––no, her wire- rimmed bifocals––on her skirt and readjusted them on her nose. The bifocals really irked her. She was, after all, in great health (except for the extra 20 pounds she carried despite daily walks and a Dr. Oz approved diet). And she wasn’t about to give in to gray hair. No, siree. Monthly salon visits were right up there with grocery shopping and paying bills. Her blue gray eyes betrayed her though. That’s where she felt her age. Bifocals? Really?

  Susan and Mike rose from their uncomfortable metal folding chairs. Much of the audience hurried toward the back of the cafeteria where parent volunteers were conducting a bake sale.

  “So, you couldn’t stay away,” chided fifth grade teacher Antonio Petrocelli. His dimples were showing. Antonio was one of Susan’s former coworker.

  “I know you, you had to come and check up on the new music teacher,” said Antonio. His wife Hayley approached, balancing a plate of Christmas cookies and a coffee. “So, is she driving you crazy with all that free time on her hands?” asked Antonio, turning his attention to Mike.

  Mike replied, “What do you mean? I actually love having the spices alphabetized and the towels sorted by size and color.”

  Susan swatted him on the shoulder, feeling a little hurt. “I’ve been using my time very productively. You know you love having the house organized,” answered Susan. She’d never admit it, but she couldn’t help wondering what her next project would be––polishing the silver? Bleaching her scuffed Reeboks?

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the inevitable feedback from the microphone on the stage. Amidst the buzz in the cafeteria, the assistant principal called the audience back to their seats. Susan knew what would follow. Vicky Rogers was about to take the stage and give her usual speech––how AWESOME the chorus was, how AWESOME the parents were for supporting their children, how AWESOME the music teacher was, and how PROUD she was to be principal of Westbrook Elementary. Like a ceiling fan winding down, the audience gradually quieted. When Mrs. Rogers didn’t immediately appear, Susan noticed Mr. Ford, the assistant principal, beginning to clumsily improvise. He’s trying to buy some time, thought Susan. It looks like he could use a bit of help. Susan approached the stage and whispered in Mr. Ford’s ear that she’d go find Vicky. She had remembered seeing her head toward her office. Susan hurried down the hall, pushed open the heavy glass door to the administrative suite, and passed the secretary’s desk en route to the principal’s office. She knocked. She knocked again. Then she turned the knob, opened the door, and screamed.

  Chapter 2

  A half-eaten funfetti cupcake sat on top of the heavy oak desk, surrounded by a legal pad, family photos, a laptop, and an agenda book. Behind the desk, next to the rolling chair, Vicky Rogers was a motionless lump in a tweed suit. Audience members began storming the office.

  “Someone call 911.”

  “What happened?”

  “Is she dead?”

  Mike, Hayley, and Antonio had been sitting near the cafeteria exit and were amongst the first to reach Vicky’s office after hearing the horrific scream. Mr. Ford arrived shortly behind them, yelling to the school social worker to keep people away. Mike, his volunteer fireman experience kicking in, bent over Vicky, listening for breathing and checking for a pulse.

  “I think she’s gone,” said Mike. “Maybe it was a heart attack.”

  Within minutes, the paramedics arrived followed by two detectives. Luckily, the roads were clear that night and nowhere was very far from anywhere else in the small town of Westbrook. Susan noticed that the tiny office seemed not to have been disturbed. There was no blood, no weapon in sight. The paramedics turned Vicky onto her back and listened for a heartbeat. Susan was amazed by the effort the paramedics were putting into reviving an obviously dead body. She watched as they injected Vicky with what she assumed was epinephrine (she’d seen that done a thousand times on the television crime shows she loved to watch). They started chest compressions and then shocked Susan’s former boss several times with a defibrillator. Susan couldn’t help thinking about how satisfying this scene would be to many of the employees at Westbrook. Susan had always gotten along well with Vicky but not everyone did. Eventually the paramedics confirmed that Vicky was indeed dead.

  Jackson Simpson, a paunchy young detective with sparse brown hair, began shooing people out of the hallway. Susan knew him well. He took his job very seriously––so seriously that he went ballistic when his partner Lynette discussed “hypothetical” cases with her newly retired, overly imaginative mom, Susan. He began asking the onlookers what they’d witnessed. Lynette was there now too, assessing the scene.

  “Everyone out,” ordered Lynette. “That means you too, Mom.” Susan hated when Lynette glared at her with those deep chestnut eyes.

  Susan took her time leaving the scene, soaking in all the details as she exited the office. A broken vase caught her eye. The vase was normally kept on the conference table. Susan remembered that from her working days. Vicky had always kept fresh flowers on the table. Whenever they’d had team leader meetings someone would make a comment about tax payer money being spent on beautifying Vicky’s personal space. Of course, those comments were always made out of Vicky’s earshot. There was no way that Vicky, sitting at her desk, would have accidentally knocked over the vase since it would have been across the room.

  Jackson took photos as Lynette bagged the cupcake, laptop, and various small items that might be useful in determining cause of death. Susan saw Lynette inspecting a large, freshly minted bruise on Vicky’s right cheek. Then she watched as Lynette inspected the rest of Vicky’s face. Even from her vantage point, Susan could see that Vicky’s lips were a bit swollen. Someone must have hit her in the face, thought Susan. Was that the cause of death?

  Lynette bent down and picked up pieces of the broken vase. “This is looking like murder,” said Lynette. She was talking to Jackson but Susan couldn’t help overhearing, since she was about two inches outside of Vicky’s office at this point. Lynette had told her to get out of the office but she didn’t say how far she had to go.

  “Do we have any contact information?” asked Jackson. “We’ll need to notify the next of kin.” Susan saw Lynette look around the de
sk, probably for a purse or a cell phone, but neither materialized.

  “She has a husband, Javier, and a teen age daughter, Carolina,” answered Susan, poking her head into the doorway.

  “Mom, I told you to leave,” said Lynette.

  “You know, Lynette, if it weren’t for me introducing you to Nancy Drew books when you were ten, you probably wouldn’t have even gone into law enforcement. Let me help. Vicky’s mother died a few years ago, and her dad’s in a nursing home in Florida.” Susan’s stomach knotted at the sudden thought of Vicky’s teenage daughter, Carolina, hearing this news. Carolina had been one of Susan’s favorite students and although she was now in high-school, they were still close. Susan had met Javier once at a faculty party but only that once. She scrolled through her contacts list and jotted down Vicky’s address and home phone number. Then she handed it to Jackson.

  “Let’s go home,” said Mike, putting his arm around Susan. “It’s been a long night.” Susan couldn’t have agreed more.

  Chapter 3

  Carolina, dressed in a matronly black a-line dress accessorized with a single strand of pearls, looked like a little girl playing dress up in her mother’s high heeled shoes. Susan and Mike gave her a hug. At 16, Carolina was being forced prematurely into maturity. Her dad Javier, barely an inch taller and with the same jet black hair and olive skin, stood next to her in the alcove of the funeral home, greeting a procession of Vicky’s friends, colleagues, and acquaintances. Susan noticed that his blue dress shirt was wrinkled under his black suit. His eyes were red and moist, and his breath smelled vaguely of alcohol. The funeral hall buzzed with hushed condolences.

  “Sorry for your loss.”

  “How tragic.”

  “She was so young.”

  “We all loved Vicky.”

  Hayley and Antonio were next in line.

  “Let us know if there’s anything we can do,” said Hayley.

  “I’m really going to miss her,” said Antonio. Susan knew he meant it. Antonio was an aspiring principal. His charm, confidence, and dramatic flair allowed his colleagues to easily envision him in that role.

  “Are you going to step in and help Mr. Ford?” asked Susan. Vicky had often allowed Antonio to handle issues with angry parents and misbehaving students. In fact, he was mistaken for the assistant principal on more than one occasion.

  “I certainly will do anything I can to keep the school up and running,” said Antonio. “I’m thankful that Vicky allowed me to have so much administrative experience these past few years.”

  That’s Antonio, thought Susan. Always politically correct. From Susan’s perspective, Vicky had appeared to be grooming Antonio for the next opening in their small school district––an opening that was likely to occur only upon the death or retirement of an incumbent. Westbrook was the kind of town where people didn’t voluntarily leave. It offered a small town, wholesome lifestyle which in modern times was increasingly difficult to find.

  “I’m sure he’ll miss her in many ways,” said Hayley.

  Susan thought she detected a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

  Next in line were Theresa Rizzo and Jody Decker. Theresa taught fourth grade at Westbrook Elementary. Barely five foot two, she was Italian through and through with her wavy dark hair and brown eyes. Theresa had often talked about how much she’d enjoyed growing up in a large family. She was one of eight children, all of whom still lived in Westbrook. She shook Javier’s hand and introduced herself.

  “Vicky gave me my first job. I’ll never forget her,” said Theresa.

  Jody Decker was the school social worker. She was tall with reddish brown hair and a hefty build. Her hands dwarfed Carolina’s as she clasped them and said, “I’m here for you.” Jody was new to Westbrook. The funeral home echoed with condolences.

  “My son loved Miss Vicky.”

  “How will the school go on without her?”

  “She was Westbrook Elementary.”

  Many parents expressed their condolences, however some were conspicuously absent. Susan noticed that Blaze Conrad wasn’t there mourning or offering condolences. In fact, thought Susan, Blaze Conrad certainly had motive to kill Vicky. His son Ryan had allegedly been molested by his teacher. Blaze was convinced that Vicky was aware of this but swept it under the rug, with the help of Antonio Petrocelli. The murmurs continued as people began to leave the building.

  “She looks so peaceful.”

  “We’ll be praying for your family.”

  “She’s with God now.”

  It was already dark outside when Javier and Carolina left the funeral parlor. Susan and Mike followed them out to the parking lot. Susan wiped her moist eyes as she imagined Javier and Carolina going home to a cold and empty house.

  Chapter 4

  The Petracelli household was already awake when the sun came up several days after the murder. “Hurry up and brush your teeth, Tony,” said Hayley.

  Tony could be a child model––he was that adorable. It wasn’t just Hayley who thought so either. Everywhere she took him, people would comment on his thick sandy-colored hair and sparkly blue eyes. Then they’d suggest that she get him into modeling or commercials. Once a woman in the grocery store even handed Hayley her business card. She was a casting agent for an advertising agency. Hayley thought about contacting her but then she got pregnant…and sick….and exhausted….

  “You and Daddy have to leave in a few minutes,” said Hayley. The sun coming in through the blinds left slats of sunlight on the kitchen table.

  “I need to be there extra early,” said Antonio. It was the last day before winter break. Antonio had been helping Mr. Ford run the school since Vicky’s death.

  “Good thing the week before winter break is mostly arts and crafts, parties, and holiday videos. My class doesn’t even realize they have a sub,” said Antonio.

  “I’m sure they miss you,” said Hayley

  In spite of the unfortunate circumstances, Hayley knew Antonio was enjoying his new role. Good thing he enjoyed it because he’d need a promotion in order to keep up with the payments on their dream house and now a new baby. Hayley was used to a certain lifestyle and she knew Antonio didn’t mind it either. Their lifestyle was so superior to what he’d grown up with. Antonio once told her that his mother fed him Kraft Macaroni and Cheese almost every night because it was all she could afford.

  “Have a good day,” said Hayley.

  “Don’t forget your lunchbox,” she called to Tony. “I made some of those M&M brownies for dessert. I gave you some too, Hun.”

  “Thanks,” said Antonio. “See you around dinner time.” He gave her a quick kiss and shepherded Tony out the door.

  “Don’t forget to lock the door,” Hayley called after him. He definitely needed to remember to lock the door, she thought. He should have locked the bedroom door that day when he thought I was visiting my parents, thought Hayley. She felt her cheeks turning red.

  Hayley took a bottle of formula out of the refrigerator. She knew the baby would be waking up hungry any time now. She was right. When he started crying, she went upstairs, changed his diaper, and brought him downstairs for breakfast. As she was strapping him into his high chair, the phone rang. It was her mother.

  “Hi, mom. What’s up?” Hayley fed the baby with one hand while holding the phone with the other.

  “I just wanted to say hello and see what time you wanted us over on Christmas Eve. I can’t wait to give Tony his presents. He’s going to love the iPad we got him. I also picked up a radio-controlled car at Toys R Us the other day. I bought the baby a few shares of Apple stock. ”

  “You’re going to spoil Tony, Mom. He’ll be asking for a Lamborghini by the time he’s 16.”

  Hayley’s mother was pedigreed all the way and spent her days getting manicures, playing tennis (racket ball in the winter), and lunching with the ladies at the country club. She’d never worked a day in her life.

  “Why shouldn’t I give him the things his father can’t afford
to get him?”

  Hayley hated the tone her Mom used whenever she referred to Antonio. Antonio had worked hard at convincing Hayley’s parents that a theater major with a financial need scholarship would be a worthy partner for their only child. When the acting thing didn’t pan out, Antonio became a teacher. That was an even harder sell. At least with acting there was a remote possibility of becoming the next Brad Pitt.

  “I was thinking around 7:00. Antonio is going to make linguine with clam sauce.”

  “Does Tony eat that?” said her mom.

  “No, but I’ll make him some pasta with butter,” said Hayley. “Come by around 7:00.”

  “Did they offer Antonio the principal job yet?” With prodding from both Hayley and his in-laws, Antonio had decided a few years ago to pursue administration and the larger salary that came with it.

  “Not yet, but I’m sure they will,” said Hayley.

  “Let’s hope so. I’ll see you soon.”

  “See you soon,” said Hayley.

  Chapter 5

  Antonio walked Tony to ‘before school’ care in the cafeteria and then headed to his office. For now, it was his temporary office but he hoped that after Christmas it might become permanent. They’d need to fill the position soon and Lord knows he was still available. His eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened. He should already be a principal. There’d been an opening in a neighboring school just before Thanksgiving. The principal, dealing with a sudden health crisis, had decided to take early retirement. Dear sweet Vicky, his friend and mentor, refused to recommend him for the position. That b… laughed in his face when he asked her about it.

  “Antonio, Antonio, Antonio. What makes you think you could possibly handle that job? You lack not only the expertise, but the professionalism and ethical compass needed to be a principal.”

  Antonio felt his shoulders tensing. Perhaps he’d crossed some ethical lines with Vicky but wasn’t he just following her example? Antonio’s dark thoughts stood in contrast to the cheerful holiday decorations lining the path to his office. Reindeer, wreaths, Feliz Navidad written on a Christmas bell, and, of course, the obligatory menorah. With each step he felt as if he were being mocked.