Outline for Murder Read online

  Only the sight of the students in his classroom shook him from this line of thought.

  Chapter 14

  Although some people complained that the school week always went by so slowly, Bishop felt that the days went by so quickly that he had to work hard to keep up. Maybe that feeling was a product of his age. He sometimes thought about how many more years he would be able to do this. Perhaps it was time to start thinking about the next chapter of his life. If Grace were still with him, he definitely would have chosen to retire in order to spend more time with her and to travel.

  He had received a call the previous evening with an update from Lieutenant Hodge. He told Bishop that Detective Scalera had had a conversation with Rocco Santorini. Rocco had been quite upset that his whereabouts at the time of his uncle’s murder were being questioned. He had, however, admitted what Bishop had already learned from Marcia Proulx, the owner of the Weary Traveler Inn. Rocco had been in Groveland the night of the murder. Rocco had asked Scalera if it was a crime to visit his uncle. He even admitted that he had been at Zappala’s house the night that he was poisoned, but he insisted that Albert was very much alive when he left.

  Bishop thought that it was smart of Rocco to admit that he had been in town on that night. He probably realized that it was just a matter of time before the police would figure that out anyway. Of course, the fact that he was in town did not mean that he had committed any crime. On the other hand, it didn’t eliminate him as a suspect either.

  When he arrived at school, he went straight to the copy room which was bustling with activity. Mark Fletcher greeted Bishop with a high-five. “Look, man, the grate is down! The mailboxes are back!” He had a backpack slung over one shoulder and a coffee cup in one hand.

  “That is good news,” replied Bishop as he picked up his mail and headed towards his classroom. He noticed that although the metal grate had been removed, it was still visible behind a filing cabinet. Perhaps that was to serve as a not-so-subtle reminder to the faculty that it could be used again.

  Terry, the office secretary, left her desk and rushed to catch up with Bishop. “I guess we have you to thank for regaining access to the mailboxes,” she said with a knowing look.

  “What makes you think that?” asked Bishop, unsure of how his private conversation with Sister Ann could have become public knowledge.

  “Well, for starters, I noticed that you were in a closed-door meeting with Sister Ann the other day, and…” Bishop cut her off by interjecting, “But that meeting could have been about anything.”

  As soon as he had finished making his point, Terry continued as if what he had said was irrelevant, “…and another reason is that I overheard a rather heated exchange between Sister Ann and Sister Pat right after you left Ann’s office.

  “Is that so?” said Bishop wanting details and knowing that Terry would happily provide them without much prodding.

  “Yeah, you should have heard them! Sister Ann marched right in to Sister Pat’s office and she needn’t have bothered to close the door because it wouldn’t have made any difference. Ann told Pat that denying teachers access to their mailboxes during the day was a bad idea and that the grate had to be removed ASAP. Pat bellowed, ‘Why the hell should I do that?’ When Ann mentioned that you had been in to discuss it with her, Pat really blew a gasket. ‘Why should I care what he thinks? When is that guy going to retire? He’s nothing but a pain in the ass!’” Terry wasn’t the only member of the staff who did a not-too-flattering imitation of the assistant principal.

  If Terry thought that Bishop would be upset to hear of himself spoken about in this manner, she was going to be disappointed. She continued, “Ann said something about not wanting to antagonize you right now because a lot of money was at stake.” Terry admitted that she didn’t quite understand what Sister Ann had meant, and Bishop was not about to explain to her that he knew exactly what she had meant. As he headed off to his classroom, he simply said, “The important point is that the mailboxes are open again.” However, he had no intention of forgetting what “Sister Meany” had apparently said about him. That, and the reference to Zappala’s money.

  ***

  There was a tangible air of excitement in the halls that built through the day. The stresses of student life were about to be relieved at least temporarily. The last football game of the season was that night against neighboring Roosevelt High. Everyone was hoping that Chris Delaney would break the school record for touchdowns in one season, twenty-two. Win or lose, there were parties planned. Students, all of them under the legal age, would be imbibing their favorite brew. There was nothing that school officials could do about it. The kids often drank with their parents’ approval. Many of them even provided the booze. It was a mentality that Bishop had never understood.

  Bishop knew that Ron was excited, too. Ron was taking Stephanie out for pizza after the game, and if she asked him up to her apartment afterward, Ron confided to him that he had would accept the invitation.

  Before he knew it, his classes were finished. The weekend had begun. Since he had decided that he was too tired to attend the game, he went over to Stephanie’s room to wish her a nice weekend, but she had a student in with her and the door was closed. He straightened his desk up a bit, and checked back about fifteen minutes later. The door was now open, and Stephanie was just sitting at her desk, looking a bit pale.

  “Are you okay, Steph?”

  “Me, yeah. I’m fine.”

  “What was that conference about, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  “Oh, that. Nothing really.” She started shoving folders into her book bag. “That was Bonnie King. She hasn’t been doing very well in French III, and she was curious to know if the retest had helped her grade.” Bishop knew all about the retest. Steph had discussed it with him earlier. She had handed back some tests to her French III class that were less than stellar. Instead of coming down hard on them, she wanted to give them another chance. After all, the last couple of weeks had been hard for everyone, and she thought that adding some new material and scheduling another test soon would give them their best chance at improving their average before the end of the first quarter. It was the type of strategy that Bishop himself had used on occasion in the past with great success. Here she was a rookie teacher, and she already had figured out some of these techniques on her own. An impressive young lady, thought Bishop, one that he hoped would stay at Trinity for years to come.

  He thought it was a bit strange that Stephanie would have closed the door if that was all Bonnie had wanted to talk about, but he didn’t say anything. After a moment’s hesitation, Stephanie spoke again tentatively. “Well, there’s more to it than the retest,” she admitted, thus confirming Bishop’s suspicion.

  Having jammed as much as she could into her bag, she dropped it to the floor next to her desk and began to tell the story. She had promised Bonnie that she wouldn’t tell anyone, but she felt that she had to tell someone, and Bishop was one of the few people she could trust.

  “It all started a few weeks ago. I had asked to see Bonnie after class because of her poor work. She broke down and told me that she hadn’t been able to study because she was so worried.”

  “Worried about what?” he asked, still not understanding how this could be so important.

  “She had missed her period.”

  “Oh, my!”

  “That’s not all,” added Stephanie. She went on to explain that Bonnie had told her that she had been sleeping with her boyfriend and that she was a week late. She was too frightened to tell her parents. She had made Stephanie promise that she wouldn’t tell anyone. Bishop now understood why Steph had been upset, but he didn’t understand why she had decided to tell him at all.

  “Don’t you know who her boyfriend is?”

  “No.” He had made it a habit of not paying too much attention to the latest hot couple.

  “It’s Chris Delaney!”

  Michael was surprised but not overly so. Despite the fact
that the official word at a Catholic school was “abstinence,” he knew that a fair percentage of upper classmen were having sex. He could only hope that they were practicing safe sex. Apparently not always. He still did not quite understand why Steph had been so shaken by this. She explained that Bonnie had returned a few days later to announce with great relief that her period had finally started. Steph had taken the opportunity to talk with Bonnie about the risks that she was taking in having sex with Chris or anyone for that matter. Bonnie had listened politely, but clearly she was unlikely to change her behavior. Everything had changed when Bonnie had come in this afternoon. Bonnie was interested in her grade on the retest, but her real purpose in coming in was to share some other private concern. Bishop listened, hoping that all of this would come into focus for him.

  “Bonnie told me about a conversation between Chris and Coach Zappala.”

  “What conversation?” Once the coach’s name was mentioned, his interest was piqued.

  “It’s why Chris got benched that night.”

  “Because he had sex with Bonnie? I don’t think that the coach was the type to get too upset over something like that.” He thought about some of the less-than-flattering comments that Zappala had made in the past about women.

  “It wasn’t about the sex. Bonnie said that during halftime, the coach pulled Chris into his office and reamed him out about his poor play that night. Chris made the mistake of trusting his coach. He told him why. He told him that his girlfriend was late with her period and that was all he could think about. He apologized for playing so poorly. Apparently, Coach lit up.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Steph went on to recount the events of that closed-door meeting as she had it from Bonnie. Zappala berated him for being so stupid as to get a girl knocked up. He asked him if he had ever heard of protection. He told him that if the girl were pregnant, he would take care of it. When Chris asked him what he meant by that, the coach rubbed his thumb across his fingers suggesting a payoff. He asked him if it was Bonnie. Chris told him that it was. The coach apparently laughed and said, “Cheerleader right? Nice piece of ass.” Bonnie explained to Stephanie that Chris got so furious that he started calling the coach all kinds of names. He threatened to tell Sister Ann what he said. Zappala then challenged Chris to do just that. He wasn’t afraid of her, he said. It would be his word against Chris’s. Then coach threatened to tell the Delaneys that Chris was sleeping with his girlfriend. That was when Chris said he’d kill him.

  Bishop couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “He said what?”

  Stephanie repeated, “Bonnie told me that Chris threatened to kill the coach. That was why he benched him for the rest of the game. Later that weekend, the coach was murdered.” Steph was clearly upset as she asked, “Oh, Mike, do you think Chris did it?”

  He shook his head. “Both father and son threatened to kill the same man on the same night! No, I really don’t think Chris is responsible. He wouldn’t have told Bonnie what he had said if he had really done it.” Then he said as much to himself as to Stephanie, “Zappala was a nasty, nasty man. I’m beginning to understand why a lot of people might have wanted him dead.”

  Chapter 15

  Despite the fact that it was Saturday, Bishop woke around 5:30 a.m. as usual. After showering and having breakfast, he put in a CD of Lizst’s Hungarian Rhapsodies. He did some paperwork which always made time disappear quickly. His concentration was disrupted by his cell. He didn’t recognize the number, but it was local so he answered.

  “Hi, this is Cindy Walker. Is this Michael Bishop?”

  “Yes, it is. What can I do for you?” he asked as he racked his brain trying to remember who Cindy Walker was. The name was familiar. Was she a parent of one of his students? They didn’t always share the same last name.

  He quickly realized that Cindy was one of the real estate agents that had contacted him hoping to win the listing of Zappala’s house. He had forgotten that he had agreed to meet her at the coach’s home on Saturday at 10:00 a.m. Keeping that appointment was something that he had pushed out of his mind. The last time he had been in that house, he had found a dead man. He wasn’t anxious to return.

  He drove up the road to Zappala’s house just as he had a couple of weeks earlier. Zappala’s Lincoln was still in the driveway. He would have to talk to some car dealers about selling it. The realtor wasn’t there yet. He parked his Corolla next to the Lincoln, and as he got out, he felt that he had learned more about this man in a matter of days than he had learned in the time that they were colleagues with not much in common. The police had removed the crime scene tape. The lawn definitely needed mowing one more time before the end of the season. He realized that it would be his responsibility to see that it got done. It was his responsibility to see that everything got done.

  Before long, Cindy Walker pulled up in a bright yellow Mazda Miata. Bishop understood that the real estate business could be quite lucrative if you were a go-getter. She hopped out of the car, grabbed a notebook, and rushed up to greet him. She had her long blonde hair pulled back with her sunglasses pushed up on top of her head. Without much need for makeup, she still managed a cover girl look.

  “Hi, I’m Cindy. I’m so glad to meet you.” Her warm handshake and photogenic smile undoubtedly contributed to her success. “I’ve sold houses to lots of people whose children you’ve taught. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Statements like that always were unsettling to him. Just which people did she mean? What kinds of things did they say? If they listened to their kids, they probably weren’t getting an unbiased view. He let all those thoughts go as he began to focus on the task at hand. He had the key, and he opened the door, and stepped back to let her go in first.

  Bishop walked behind her, attentive to every detail of the house unlike that earlier occasion when his dual concern had been to relay a message to the coach from Sister Ann and try not to miss homeroom. The house had a musty smell, and the carpets had a number of tracks made by the various investigators who had worked the scene. The section of the carpet where the beer had spilled had been removed for the lab analysis which had found traces of the cyanide.

  “Mr. Bishop, you must have been a very close friend of Mr. Zappala. I am so sorry for your loss,” Cindy began. She seemed to mean every word as all the vivacity in her voice and that warm smile temporarily vanished.

  “Cindy, please call me Mike, and to be honest, I was really wasn’t that close to him. I was quite stunned to learn that I had been named the executor.”

  “I’m sure he made a wise choice.” It was the polite thing to say, especially if it helped her acquire the listing. “Now, what, if any, furnishings are you planning to include with the house?” The vivacity and smile had returned. Cindy was back to business.

  The will was fairly explicit in that regard. Bishop was charged with going through Zappala’s personal effects to determine what should be discarded, what should be given away, and what should be sold. He made it clear to Cindy that that process was nowhere near complete. Furthermore, he reminded her that the house could not actually be put on the market until the will had gone through probate.

  “I totally understand, Mike,” she replied as if she had been expecting his comments. “I’m not here to pressure you into a commitment. I simply want you to know that I am extremely interested in listing this property at the appropriate time, and I’ll do everything I can to help you through every step of the way.” Bishop found her approach very comforting, and understood what made her so successful in her work. She suggested that he contact an estate liquidator to assist him in determining what items were appropriate to give away and what items were of value. They would offer a price for the remaining contents of the house. After briefly looking through the house, she added that she thought only the appliances would be appropriate to include with the sale of the house itself. She went through taking measurements and making notes while Bishop relived that horrifying moment when he realized that the coach was dead.
When Cindy was finished inside, she asked if she could walk around outside. He was more than happy to oblige since being in that house made him very uncomfortable. As they walked around in the crisp October morning, Cindy advised him that it would be a good idea to get the house painted, both outside and inside using neutral colors.

  “From my experience, I’d say that you — or rather the estate, would get more than two dollars back for every dollar spent. With a bit of work and some imagination, some young couple could turn this into a wonderful country home.” She made a sweeping gesture toward the surrounding countryside. “This a great location to raise kids.” He realized that she was not just giving him a pitch. He had read about the return on such investments before marketing a house. What struck him more deeply was her comment about a young couple raising a family out here. His own home was only a mile and a half down the road. He and Grace never had any children. It was one of the sad facts that he lived with each day. What a comfort children and grandchildren would have been to them in their later years, but they had managed to lead a full and happy life regardless. Once he lost Grace, that reality became more difficult for Bishop. He liked to think that instead of having a couple of kids of his own, as a teacher he had over a hundred kids to care for each year.

  Cindy made a few more suggestions. Instead of replacing the carpet in the living room, she thought that it would be better to remove the carpet completely as she had noticed that there was a hardwood floor underneath. She knew someone who could refinish it, make any necessary repairs, and make it look like new. That would really add to the appeal of the house. She also cautioned him that one factor that might make the house more difficult to sell was the fact that a murder had taken place there. It was information that had to be disclosed. She promised to work up some comparables in order to determine a fair asking price. She thanked him for his time, promised to keep in touch, hopped in her sporty car and left.