Dying to Teach Page 16

  Kiana jumped away from the car. No time to heave herself into the greenery beside Evan. A round woman approached. She wore a blue NY Giants jacket that made her look even bigger. Now probably wasn’t the time to say so.

  “What are you doing in Randy’s car?” Her hand reached into one of the enormous pockets and groped around.

  Reaching for a gun? Cell phone?

  TWENTY-ONE

  Kiana put up a palm. “Wait. Wait. I’m not a thief. I’m not in his car.” Kiana pulled in a breath and prepared to tell the biggest whopper of her burgeoning crime-fighting career. She lowered her voice and ducked her head close to the woman. Get shot up close or from a few feet away—not much difference as far as she was concerned.

  “Last night.” Kiana nodded toward the house. “Randy and I…”

  When a smirky grin appeared on the woman’s face, Kiana grew her story. “I… Well, things didn’t go too well.” Kiana shrugged.

  “Not surprised. He is gay, you know.”

  Kiana threw her hands in the air. “That sure explains why. Oh, I’m so embarrassed. Do you know, I practically threw myself at him. Anyway, I was so humiliated I ended up leaving my purse in his car. I thought I’d try to find it before he,” she nodded toward the first floor apartment again, “before he left for work.”

  The woman shot her own glance toward the building. “Come on, I’ll help you look.” The doors were all locked, but cupped hands around faces against windows didn’t turn up a purse of any kind.

  “Now what?” Kiana moaned. “Where else could I have left it?”

  “Maybe he took it inside so nobody would break in and steal it.”

  “Good idea. Gosh, I really don’t want to face him right now.”

  “He’s a nice guy. I don’t think he’ll hold anything against you.” Suddenly the woman giggled. “No pun intended. Come on, I’ll go in with you. He and I are friends.” She took hold of Kiana’s sleeve and started moving toward the house.

  Kiana held back. “If it’s all the same to you, I think it would be best if I wait a few days. I feel so humiliated, I just can’t face him.”

  The woman shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  “Have a great day.”

  Kiana began walking along the sidewalk.

  “Hey, where’s your car?” the woman called.

  “I don’t have one,” Kiana shot back.

  “I can give you a ride.”

  Kiana kept walking. About a block along, Evan caught up. They made sure the woman had driven away, turned, and hurried to where they’d left the bike. Evan didn’t say a word. Her anger at him for not coming to her rescue in the face of potential danger, simmered.

  “Take me home.”

  Wordless, he dropped her off in front of her house. Kiana left without speaking. Usually he waited till she was safely inside. Today he drove off as soon as she dropped the helmet strap over the backrest. She let herself in through the kitchen door. The coffeemaker timer hadn’t started a pot. That meant her mother wasn’t downstairs yet, though she did hear movement in her parents’ bathroom just overhead. Kiana tiptoed upstairs and into her room. She undressed quickly and threw on a robe. Just in time because her mother popped her head in the door. Kiana turned from tying the belt.

  “Just making sure you’re up.”

  “I am.” No lie there. It seemed like she never slept any more. She picked up the discarded jacket and drew the rainbow decal from her pocket. What would Evan say if he knew an identical one of these was adhered to Mr. Reynolds’ dashboard? No way would she be the one to tell him. She returned the decal to her jacket

  Re-dressed and still damp, Kiana made her way downstairs at 6:10. The smell of coffee wafted through the house. The dryer chugged in the room off the kitchen. Life went on.

  She dropped her backpack and shoes on the floor at the foot of the stairs and padded barefoot to the kitchen, blinking at the intrusion of fluorescent light from the ceiling fixture. Her mother stood at the stove, a spatula in one hand, and wearing Dad’s silly apron with the big-belly guy on it. Why was she cooking? She knew Kiana didn’t eat in the morning. Neither did Mom, so it wasn’t for her. And it couldn’t be for Dad; he wouldn’t return till just before Friday’s show.

  Mom turned and wiggled two fingers at her. Kiana wiggled two fingers back—their standard good morning routine.

  A soft foot shuffle at the end of the table explained why Mom was doing the Mom-thing. Evan had arrived. While Kiana stood in the doorway frowning at Evan, Mom dumped scrambled eggs onto a plate, dropped toast beside them and slid the plate in front of Evan, who already held a fork.

  Mom patted Evan on top of the head, which made him grimace, then she came around and kissed Kiana on the forehead. “You kids be careful today.” She started for the door. “Thanks for driving Kee to school, Evan.”

  “De nada, Mrs. Smith.” When the upstairs bedroom door shut, Evan went back to eating.

  Kiana returned to the hallway and sat on the bottom step to put on her shoes. The clinking of things dropping into the dishwasher said Evan had wolfed down his breakfast.

  “Kee.”

  She drew his contact lens case from her pocket and slapped it in his hand.

  He peered at it in confusion a second, then smiled. “Where did you find this?”

  “On the floor in the teacher’s lounge.”

  His happy expression sagged.

  “We’ll talk about it later. I want to get to school before Mrs. Deacon.”

  “So, you’re liking the new teacher,” came her mother’s voice from the den.

  Kiana dropped the other shoe on the floor. “I thought you went upstairs.”

  “I did. Then I came down.”

  “So, she’s nice?”

  “She’s great,” Evan said.

  Kiana put on her jacket, sliding away from Evan’s attempt to help. She slipped the backpack over one shoulder, plopped a kiss on her mother’s cheek, and pulled open the front door.

  Evan followed her down the walk. “Your mom is really nice.”

  “Overprotective.”

  “And she’s pretty.”

  “I guess.” She stopped at the end of the walk.

  “You don’t look like her.”

  “That your way of saying I’m not pretty?”

  “You’re gorgeous. I tell you that all the time. What I was saying is that you don’t look like either of your parents.”

  Where was this leading? Was it his back-ended way of making up for the near-fiasco at Mr. Reynolds’ house? She wanted to stay angry a little long. And she sure didn’t want to talk about this. “Dad’s mother was born in Peru. I guess I got her coloring.”

  “Peru, huh?”

  She hefted the backpack onto both shoulders, turned and started along the sidewalk.

  “Kee?”

  “Leave me alone for a while.”

  He raced up beside her. “Why are you mad?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

  Evan didn’t catch up again till she stood in front of her locker, switching books around for her first class. By now she was feeling bad for the way she treated him. So what if he didn’t come to her rescue? Maybe he hadn’t realized there was any danger. He was who he was. She had to accept that.

  He took the math book from her fingers and held it against him. For the first time that morning, she looked him in the eyes.

  “Are we okay now?” he asked.

  She nodded. “So, tell me how your lens case got in the teacher’s lounge.”

  He heaved his coat on top of a pile of junk in the bottom of the locker and slammed the door before things could fall out. He turned with a grin. “Simple. Mr. Reynolds sent me to get Mr. Philmore. It must’ve fallen out of my pocket.”

  She shot him a doubtful look. Evan might look like a goody-goody, but he had a spunky side that loved challenges. If somebody dared him to go there…

  Kiana let it drop for now. He stepped in place beside her as they headed f
or their first class. “Kee, do you think the janitor did it?”

  “You mean, set the fire or kill Gwen?”

  “Right now, just the fire.”

  “The whole fire-thing doesn’t make sense. Why would anybody do that?”

  The question received a shrug from Evan.

  “The only way I can figure he would care about that picture,” Kiana continued, “is if he’s in it. We need to find out more about him. Can you remember his last name?”

  Evan’s gave drifted to the ceiling and after a moment, back to her face. “Underwood.”

  “I was thinking we could ask Mrs. Deacon’s boyfriend to check him out.”

  “Boyfriend seems a funny way to describe him.”

  “Okay, let’s ask her man-friend.”

  Evan laughed. “That just sounds weird.”

  * * * *

  As Kiana entered the classroom, the teacher wiggled a yellow piece of paper toward her. Kiana read the note: Mrs. Philmore called. The costumes are ready. Want to go with me? Meet me in my office when it’s convenient. Mrs. Deacon.

  “I have to leave,” Kiana said.

  The teacher nodded. She already knew. That meant Mrs. Deacon had delivered the note in person. Kiana liked that. Most teachers sent a go-fer.

  She found Mrs. Deacon, who wore a gorgeous handkerchief skirt in Kiana’s favorite color, teal. The material flowed around her legs as she moved near the green room table, that had been cleaned off and—no, it was a whole other table. This was smaller and less beat-up. Kiana’s “good morning” made Mrs. Deacon spin around.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “It’s all right.”

  Kiana didn’t miss the fact that the teacher’s eyes flickered over her left shoulder, toward the stage hallway. Something had spooked her. Funny, Kiana wouldn’t have thought Mrs. Deacon to be easily frightened. “Everything okay?”

  There. She did it again—that little eye-flicker toward the hall. Something was definitely wrong.

  “No. Everything’s fine.”

  “Smells awful in here, like somebody cooked an animal.”

  “The janitor was just here. He went for more fans to air the place out.”

  Could that be what had her on edge—the janitor? “Which janitor was it, the one from the other night?”

  The way Mrs. Deacon nodded told Kiana the janitor wasn’t the problem this morning. Somebody, or something, else had her watching the exits.

  “You ready to go?”

  “Can I leave my backpack in your office?”

  “It’s open, help yourself.”

  When Kiana returned, Mrs. Deacon had her jacket on. It was a darker teal than the skirt, made of some soft looking fabric, wide at the shoulders and tapered to make her already-slim waist look slimmer. They walked out together.

  It was a beautiful autumn morning with just a touch of chill in the air. Most of the trees had dropped their leaves and were stretching their black branch-fingers to the brilliant blue and white sky. The scene needed to be put on canvas. Kiana wished she could paint. Mrs. Deacon punched the button on her remote and the headlights of a dark blue car blinked. Was that a Lexus? Man, the theater business in Alton must pay well. Kiana climbed in the passenger seat and buckled up. But they never made it out of the parking lot.

  TWENTY-TWO

  The thumping rear tire made them both groan. She added a curse under her breath and slapped the steering wheel with both palms, which made Kiana laugh. “My mother swears like a sailor when we have car trouble.”

  “I held it in for your benefit.” She got out and went to see how bad it was. It didn’t take a mechanic to see the tire had been slashed. Now she did curse.

  “That’s more like it,” Kiana laughed.

  Angie jumped. “I didn’t know you got out of the car.”

  “Obviously. This couldn’t have happened in a better spot. I bet there are a dozen guys in the shop who’d be more than happy to change it. I’ll go ask.”

  “Ask nice.”

  “Bet on it.”

  “I guess I’ll call the police.”

  “You should also call Mr. Reynolds. I think the school has security cameras.”

  A half hour later the tire was changed and the police report given. Angie and Kiana left Randy searching through the security tapes from that morning and headed for Cilla’s shop, stopping first at the coffee shop for well deserved fortification.

  Back in the car, Kiana dropped a bomb. “I guess I should tell you what happened this morning.”

  Angie bent forward and adjusted the heater knob, buying a moment to steel her features into nonchalance. Then she sat back in the seat and waited.

  “Evan and I found something in Mr. Reynolds’ office.” She drew an object from her pocket and laid it in Angie’s hand.

  Angie knew the significance of the rainbow. “I’m sorry, Kiana, I don’t get the importance of this.”

  “This is a gay insignia.”

  “I know what it is.” She laid it on the seat between them. “Where did you get it?”

  “In a trashcan in Mr. Reynolds’ office. I know you’re going to say he could’ve taken it from somebody—I’ve already considered that. But I also found one in Mr. Reynolds’ car. It was stuck on the dashboard.”

  “I assume you’re reading some sort of importance into it,” Angie asked. Didn’t someone mention Randy was gay?

  “What if Gw—Ms. Forest found out and threatened to tell on him?”

  “You think she’d do that to him?”

  “Not under normal circumstances.”

  “Have you uncovered any abnormal circumstances that make you think she’d change her mind?”

  “No.” Kiana sipped her hot chocolate. “So, do you think we should discount the information?”

  “Never discount anything.”

  The unusual conversation ended as they got out of the car in front of Cilla’s shop.

  Kiana held the door for Angie. “I love the smell in here. It’s like stepping into a giant dressing room.”

  Cilla was just finishing up with a customer. She handed a large paper bag across the counter and came toward them, tan rayon slacks and a tan and pink striped blouse. Her reddish-blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail that swished with equal measure rhythm her shoulders.

  “Oh. My. Gosh,” Angie said as the heat of embarrassment erupted into her cheeks.

  “What’s wrong?” both Cilla and Kiana said at once.

  “I just remembered you and Josh invited me to dinner last night.”

  Cilla laughed. “I heard you had something a lot more pressing going on.”

  “You won’t even believe it!” Kiana said.

  “I was going back to my office to get my things when all hell—excuse me Kiana—broke loose.”

  “I heard you had quite the mess.” Cilla was gracious. She didn’t seem to harbor any animosity for Angie’s forgotten appointment.

  Kiana and Angie alternated—much the way Kiana and Evan always did—providing a detailed story about the previous night.

  “After the girls called, I rushed back over here to start putting things together for you.” Cilla walked toward a folding table set in an open space. It was covered in piles of clothing. Cilla pointed to each one in turn, naming the character for which it was intended. “I was sure glad Donna provided a list because I’d totally forgotten two of the minor characters.” She slapped the nearest piles with her palms.

  Kiana checked the selection with the precision of an architect. Angie and Cilla stood to the side, giving occasional knowing glances at each other. They remained quiet until Kiana stepped away, satisfied.

  “I really appreciate you going to all this trouble.”

  “Definitely,” Angie said. “You’ve been a lifesaver.”

  Cilla drew a roll from the pocket of her slacks and held it up. “Wintergreen. My favorite,” she added with a grin, then offered Kiana and Angie each one.

  “Kiana, feel free to walk arou
nd and see if you find anything else that works better for you. What I put out was only to help speed things along.”

  While Cilla went to help a customer check out, Angie tongued the hole in the lifesaver and ambled about the store. Along one wall were three shelves of knickknacks and statuary. Being a thrift store where all the items were donated, there was no pattern or connection to the styles. There was a cute brass zebra. Its surface glimmered in the fluorescent lighting. Beside the zebra, a pair of Mickey Mouse figurines. Angie picked up a china teacup and saucer etched with small blue flowers. The piece was delicate, so thin it was almost like paper. The hand painted design was perfect.

  “Angie,” Cilla called, “check this out.”

  Angie set down the cup and turned to see Cilla holding up a beautiful silk dress in one of her favorite colors, a pale green, in a strapless style and a long flowing skirt. During performances at the theater, Angie and Tyson dressed in formal attire. She could never have enough evening wear.

  “It’s beautiful,” Kiana said as she selected a blue sport jacket. She went to the counter to exchange it with a brown one but seemed otherwise satisfied with the choices Cilla had made.

  Angie touched the fabric of the green dress. Very nice. The label said Diane Von Furstenberg. Over the top of the coat hanger, Angie raised her eyebrows at Cilla who smiled. “If it was my size I would’ve taken it for myself. I wouldn’t be surprised to find it fits you.”

  “Try it on,” Kiana encouraged, which Angie did. It fit perfectly. She twirled in the full-length mirror in the dressing room.

  “Gorgeous,” Kiana and Cilla said at the same time.

  Angie again gave Cilla a raised eyebrow glance seeing the price tag at $30. Cilla laughed. “Most of my clientele wouldn’t know who Diane Von Furstenberg is.”

  The three women bagged the purchases, including Angie’s new dress.

  “That pendant you got the other day will go perfectly with this. Too bad there aren’t any earrings to match.”

  “I’ll figure something out,” Angie said, then added, “I’m not sure how to handle payment for the school’s items.”