Outline for Murder Read online

  Stephanie stood there for a moment without saying a word. She seemed genuinely confused. Then she asked, “What are you doing here?”

  “Mr. Bishop thought it might be a good idea if I dropped by.”

  “How long have you been here? I didn’t hear a car pull up.”

  “He thought it best if I pulled my patrol car into the garage. I arrived before you did. I’m afraid that you’ll have to come along with me, Miss Harris.”

  Stephanie turned towards Bishop in disbelief. “You set me up?” Before he had a chance to respond, she pounced on him as if she were Catwoman once again. With both fists flailing against him, she screamed, “I thought you were my friend!” As he fended off her blows, he said, “I’m sorry, Steph, I really am.” Hodge grabbed her in a bear hug from behind. He waited a moment for her to calm down, got her seated again, and informed her of her rights. She sat there and began to sob.

  After a few moments, she looked up at Bishop. There was no anger in her eyes.

  “I need you to call my parents and tell them what happened. I know they’ll be devastated, and I just can’t face that right now. You’ll know what to say.”

  He didn’t have the faintest idea of how he would begin to tell those good people that their daughter had been arrested for murder. “Sure, I’ll take care of it.”

  “And Henrietta. She’s expecting me to pick her up at the airport tonight.”

  Bishop promised to be there in her place.

  “And I’ll need a lawyer.”

  “I’ll call Andy White. He’ll be able to recommend a good lawyer.”

  Stephanie sighed. “Even a good lawyer isn’t going to be able to make this go away.” She was right, of course. She had to be held accountable for her actions. Zappala was a twisted man who deserved punishment, but it was wrong to appoint herself his judge and executioner. And yet, he felt it entirely possible that her punishment would prove to be fairly lenient. She did have an otherwise impeccably clean record. The extraordinary emotional duress of discovering the identity of the man who had fathered her and abandoned her mother would likely evoke a sympathetic response from a jury. On balance she had been as much a victim of Zappala’s immoral conduct as Zappala had been a victim of her desire for revenge.

  Before Hodge escorted her into the garage for the ride to the station, Steph asked,

  “Oh, Michael! Do you hate me? Do you think Ron will hate me?”

  “No, of course not. I might hate what you did, but that doesn’t mean that I hate you. I could never do that. I think that Ron will feel the same way.”

  “You know more about Zappala than anyone else. Will you explain to everyone what an evil man he was?”

  “I’ll tell his story and your story as best I can. That’s all I can do.”

  “Ready to go, miss?” asked Hodge.

  “Yes,” she replied softly. He stood there and watched as she walked out the door. Although the circumstances were far different, it was the second time in his life that his world had been torn apart. Wanting to fill the silence, he put a CD into the player. The voice of Andrea Bocelli singing “Con Te Partiro” filled the room. “I’ll go with you.” How painful an irony that was.

  He watched as Lieutenant Hodge backed his car out of the garage. Stephanie was in the back seat, with her head bowed. One poor decision had cost her her teaching career, her relationship with Ron, her freedom. He remembered the advice Atticus Finch had given to Scout in To Kill A Mockingbird. It was wrong to judge others; instead, we need to walk in their shoes. He got in his car and headed toward the airport to pick up Henrietta Avery. She would be confused that Stephanie was not there to greet her; she would be even more disappointed when Bishop explained what had transpired in the few days since Steph had sent her on her way to visit her family for Thanksgiving. He played out the conversation in his mind several times as he drove to the airport. He would tell Miss Avery only as much as she needed to know. He would say nothing of the handgun that Stephanie had found in the attic.

  Marion County Regional Airport was small enough that he didn’t need to check for a gate arrival. All incoming passengers passed through the same waiting area. The flight had been delayed. The only book he had with him was his copy of Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter. No sooner had he settled in to a wait of at least an hour in an uncomfortable airport lounge seat, then he heard someone say his name. It was not a voice he recognized.

  “Mr. Bishop? Excuse me, are you Mr. Bishop?”

  He looked up from his book and into the smiling face of a former student. This sort of thing happened all the time. The variable was whether or not he would remember the name of the student quickly enough. He stood up to shake her hand. She had been in his Advanced Placement class only a few years earlier. He could remember clearly what seat she had occupied in his classroom. All of a sudden it clicked.

  “Kathleen Donovan! How nice to see you!”

  “Are you still at Holy Trinity?”

  “Why yes I am.” Bishop was amused that many of his former students asked that question as if their graduation might lead him to retirement or at least a career change. Perhaps it was just their way of starting up a conversation with someone to whom they had not given a single thought after leaving school. “What are you doing these days?” It was obvious that she had been home on break, but he could not remember where she had decided to attend college.

  “I’m at the University of Notre Dame, and I’m majoring in English,” she said proudly.

  “Good choice,” said Bishop laughing. “Thinking of teaching?”

  “Actually, I’m planning to go to law school.”

  “Also a good choice.” He thought of Steph sitting in her cell and understood quite well the importance of a good lawyer.

  They spent the next few minutes catching up. He asked her about the classes she was taking and how she liked dorm life. She wanted to know what was new at Trinity. She had heard about the death of the coach and expressed her regrets as if Zappala had been a member of Bishop’s family. In a way, he realized, Zappala had been a member of his family, however unpleasant a thought that might be. Suddenly, Kathleen began to speak in a hushed tone even though no one was close enough to eavesdrop on their conversation.

  “Do you remember my paper on Emily Dickinson?”

  How typical this was of former students! Bishop had been pleased enough with himself for having remembered her name. Now she expected him to remember a particular paper that she had written? He hoped that she wasn’t going to tell him that she still believed that she deserved a better mark than he had given her.

  “A Dickinson paper?” he asked tentatively, hoping for some clue as to its significance.

  “That was the paper that I foolishly cut and pasted from various sites on the Internet and handed in for a grade. You gave me a zero for plagiarizing.” He certainly did remember that incident. Thankfully, the incidence of plagiarism in the papers that he read was quite low. Most students knew that it was better to write a poor paper and take the honest low grade than to cheat. Most “cut and paste” papers that he read were terrible anyway.

  “Yes, I do remember now that you mention it.”

  “Well, I just wanted to thank you for setting me straight. You not only gave me a zero, but you insisted on a conference with my parents. I thought you’d hate me forever, but you didn’t. In class and in the halls, you treated me just the same as before I made that stupid mistake. I just want you to know that meant a lot to me.”

  “People make mistakes, and they move on.” As he said that to Kathleen, he realized that it was not just a line; it was what he believed. Zappala had made mistakes but refused to acknowledge them or learn from them. Until Stephanie arrived at his house that night, he had escaped punishment and therefore had never had the chance to experience forgiveness. Stephanie had made a terrible mistake, and she would be punished. And with her punishment, she also deserved forgiveness and the chance to rebuild her life. Just like Hester Prynne, he thought to
himself.

  Chapter 31

  While he waited for Miss Avery’s flight, Bishop decided to make a few calls. The first was to Andy White. He explained briefly the events of the last twenty-four hours that had led to the identification of Zappala’s killer. There was little reaction from Andy. He was too busy running through several possibilities for a defense attorney. He recommended Johnson Deming. “He’s one of the best.”

  “Expensive?”

  “Yes, but when you’re facing a murder charge, you don’t look for a bargain rate,” he said bluntly. “Listen, Mike. I know that you must be saddened by the way this turned out. From what you’ve told me, my guess is that she has a good chance of escaping a life sentence. She’s young, attractive, and intelligent. She appears to have suffered a great deal from the actions of the coach. Most juries are not going to want to put her in jail and throw away the key.”

  “She killed a man, Andy. She shouldn’t just walk away.”

  “I’m not saying she will. But I imagine that if Deming takes this case, he’ll find even more dirt on Zappala, and the more the focus is on him, the better it will be for Stephanie.” Andy offered to call Deming himself. “I’ll call you tomorrow after I’ve talked with him.”

  Steph had wanted him to call her parents, and he would, but not just yet. He needed a bit more time to prepare for that sad task. Brian and June Harris were such wonderful people. He had so much enjoyed their hospitality only the other day. It would be difficult to deliver the devastating news about their daughter. Might they blame themselves for shielding Steph from the truth when she was a child? Did they know more than they had admitted? Might they blame him for his relentless pursuit of the mystery that led him to Middleton?

  His next call was to Ron. Poor guy. Bishop hadn’t seen Ron happier than he was in the last couple of months. Some guys just seemed to have bad luck with women, and Ron was one of them. In addition to the teacher who had run off with an old flame, several years ago, he had been engaged to a lovely young woman until Ron discovered that she was having an affair with her tennis coach. Everyone was hoping that this time would be different. Bishop kept the call short. Ron listened quietly as Bishop summarized what had happened. It would take a while before the reality sank in. Bishop promised to be there for him in the days ahead.

  Informing Sister Ann was his next priority. He called the convent and was disappointed to learn that she was unavailable. That left him no choice but to speak to Sister Pat. “What do you want now, Bishop?”

  No greeting. No warmth. This was her modus operandi. For a moment, he was tempted to use that Latin phrase since it would more than likely launch her into a frenzy, but he thought better of it. Instead, he explained to her that Stephanie had been arrested for the murder of Coach Zappala and that Sister Ann needed to arrange for a long-term substitute for her classes. He had barely finished a sentence before she erupted. “Have you been drinking? Stephanie killed him? Oh, my God! Think of the bad press the school is going to get!”

  He cut her off. “Think of Stephanie and her family!”

  “Think of Stephanie?” she snapped. “She’s a killer! She should rot in prison!” The extent to which this member of a religious order failed to demonstrate any feelings of Christian compassion truly was beyond his comprehension. Rather than trying to reason with her, he settled for giving her some practical advice. “Please tell Sister Ann that I think she should contact Helene Boulanger.” Boulanger had retired after thirty-one years of teaching French at Holy Trinity. It was her retirement that had created the opening for Stephanie this year. Helene would have no problem filling in at least on a temporary basis.

  “Boulanger? That woman was a head case. Why would we want her back?”

  “Well, it was just a suggestion. I’m sure that you and Sister Ann will find a suitable replacement by tomorrow morning.” That was as likely as Sister Pat teaching Latin.

  ***

  Henrietta was one of the first passengers out of the gate. One of the flight attendants was guiding her into the waiting area with one hand while rolling her small travel bag with the other. She was understandably confused as to why Bishop was there to greet her instead of Stephanie. He promised to explain everything on the way to her house.

  As he recounted the sequence of events leading up to her arrest earlier that evening, she listened with resignation. The old woman had undoubtedly dealt with bad news many times over the years. It didn’t take the sting out of it, but it did provide some perspective.

  “Who would have thought Stephanie capable of murder?” It was as much a question she was asking of herself as she was asking Bishop.

  “I think every human heart is capable of great good and great evil. The challenge is choosing to do good and avoid evil.” He had to believe that that was true.

  ***

  As he turned the corner onto Glendale Avenue, Bishop encountered three police cruisers, a fire truck, an ambulance, and a few cars belonging to volunteers, all with their lights flashing in the night sky.

  “Oh my,” exclaimed Henrietta. “I think they’re at my house!”

  Bishop pulled his car to the curb. He told Henrietta to stay in the car until he could find out what was going on. Just as got out of his car, the ambulance took off, its siren blaring. There were some neighbors milling about, some in their pajamas, some talking in hushed voices, and others standing silently in the chill of the night air.

  The house didn’t seem to be on fire. Bishop was at a loss as to what was going on. He asked a few of the bystanders, but none of them had a clear idea of what had happened. A boy of about twelve whose eyes were filled with the excitement of the moment, stopped chewing gum long enough to report that he saw the EMTs taking someone out on a stretcher.

  Then Bishop saw Lieutenant Hodge leaving Henrietta’s house. His heart began to race even more than it had before. What would Hodge be doing here? He should have driven Stephanie straight to the police station. Had Stephanie escaped? He caught up to Hodge as he was about to get into his vehicle. Out of breath, Bishop managed to ask what had happened.

  The Lieutenant looked quite shaken. He explained to Bishop that once they had left his house, Stephanie had requested that they pass by her apartment for a minute. Her contacts were really bothering her, and she wanted to pick up her eyeglasses. He didn’t see any harm in that, although strictly speaking, it was against the book. He pulled his cruiser into the empty driveway. He waited in the kitchen while she went into the bathroom to remove her contacts. After a few minutes, he heard the toilet flush and water running in the sink. After another few moments, he became concerned. He could still hear the water running, but he didn’t hear Stephanie moving around. He called her name as he began to fear that she might have tried to escape through the bathroom window.

  Rushing to the bathroom, he found the door locked. He banged on the door, shouting her name. No response. Just the steady stream of the water running in the sink.

  Using his shoulder, he rammed the door until he broke through. For some reason that he didn’t quite grasp, the door opened only about ten to twelve inches until it met some resistance. He looked down to see what was preventing the door from opening all the way. Stephanie’s body was sprawled on the floor, blocking his entrance. He immediately called in for assistance. Female down. Condition unknown.

  Bishop tried to remain outwardly calm as he listened to Hodge recount what had happened.

  He kept nudging the door until he had created enough space to enter. He checked for a pulse and was relieved to find one, although it was faint. As he scanned the area, a small brown bottle on the tank of the toilet caught his attention. It was open and empty. Without touching it, he knew what it was. The skull and crossbones said it all. Stephanie had taken a dose of the same poison that she had used to murder Zappala.

  Bishop stood dumbfounded as Lieutenant Hodge got into his patrol car. He offered to give Bishop a ride to the hospital, but Bishop declined. Stephanie’s landlady was waiting in hi
s car. He needed to explain what had happened to her and make sure that she would be all right.

  ***

  Since she couldn’t return to her home until the authorities had finished their examination of the scene, her next-door neighbor, Trudy, also an elderly widow, invited her to stay the night. Once he had gotten her settled in, Bishop raced to the hospital. On the way there, he kept thinking of the question that Henrietta had repeated several times, “Why would she want to throw her life away? Why?” That was something only Stephanie could answer, if in fact, she survived.

  When Bishop entered the ER lobby, he saw Lieutenant Hodge talking with one of the physicians on duty. Hodge waved him over and introduced him to Dr. Jayne Billings. She was probably no older than Stephanie. She greeted Bishop with a firm handshake and a comforting smile. She explained that it was fortunate that she was told of the probability of cyanide poisoning. Depending on the dose ingested, death could occur in a matter of minutes. Her own observation of an almond-like smell on the breath of the victim confirmed the diagnosis. Bishop suddenly flashed back to the strange odor that he had noticed when he had first discovered Zappala’s body. Now he understood what that had meant. Dr. Billings immediately had pumped Stephanie’s stomach to remove as much of the poison as possible. She then administered a dose of hydroxocobalamin to help cleanse the body of any remaining poison.

  “We’ll keep her here for a day or two for observation and for additional treatment of the antidote. We were lucky with this one. She should be fine.”

  “We’ll also keep her on a suicide watch,” added Hodge.

  ***

  Bishop slept surprisingly well that night. Perhaps it was the relief of finally getting to the truth of Zappala’s murder even if that truth had been so personally painful. He had delayed calling Stephanie’s parents and that decision had proven fortuitous. Lieutenant Hodge had called them from the hospital to inform them of their daughter’s admission to the hospital for an “overdose” of some kind. He assured them that Stephanie would be fine, but encouraged them to get here as quickly as possible. He would give them the complete picture then. Andy White had left a message on his phone informing him of Deming’s belief that she had a ‘very good chance’ of receiving a lenient sentence in exchange for a guilty plea to a lesser charge of manslaughter.