A Question of Judgment: A Michael Bishop Mystery Page 4

  ***

  When class ended and a couple of students had neatly rearranged the desks in rows, Bishop sat down at his desk. He was expecting an email from Sister Ann, and he found one with “Personnel” in the subject heading. “Over the weekend, Annette Dunkirk submitted her resignation. Please welcome her replacement, Mary Ellen Webster, as our new business manager.”

  The first part of the message was so predictable that Bishop could have written it for her. No word of thanks for her many years of dedicated service. And certainly, no word of explanation that Annette had been forced to resign amidst unfounded speculation that she had stolen funds from the school. The second part of the message was the real shocker. Mary Ellen is the new person in charge? She was a very personable young woman, but she had been a teller at a bank. Was she qualified for this job? Had she at least majored in accounting or something similar?

  He wondered how his friend, Ron Jennings, would react to the news. Had Mary Ellen sought his advice before taking the job? Had she even told him of her decision? Ron was troubled by her frequent calls during the day. How would he feel now that her office was just down the hall from his? Bishop recalled seeing Mary Ellen with the two nuns several times in recent days. He suspected that there was a strong connection between those meetings and her new job.

  Another email from Sister Pat caught his attention. The subject heading was “March Madness.” After giving the time of the completion of the suspended game, she went on to say that the “faculty and staff are strongly encourage to attend.” Bishop smiled. Sister Pat was so consistent. She had forgotten to add the letter “d” to “encourage.” She invariably had a typo or a misspelling in her written communications, although she was the one who constantly reminded the faculty to proofread all correspondence “to avoid silly errors that make you look unprofessional.” Reading between the lines, the assistant principal was making it clear that attendance would be taken, and those who did not attend would risk retribution in one form or another. Her message also failed to make clear whether or not there would be a second admission charge for the completion of the game although Ron had already told him that there would be. That didn’t factor into his decision not to attend the game. He simply had too much grading and preparation to do.

  ***

  It probably was a mistake to play that game so soon after Nick’s unexpected death. Ron filled him in on the details. The three-point lead with which the Knights had gone into the second half quickly evaporated. The boys uncharacteristically made a number of turnovers that led to easy buckets for the Warriors. Dave Cavanaugh missed his first six shots. Although the team ended up losing by twenty-four points, the crowd, which was much smaller than the one on Friday night, gave them a standing ovation as they left the court. Everyone knew how emotionally drained they must have been, and they appreciated their effort. Ron noticed that Sister Ann and Sister Pat had remained seated. Apparently, Sister Pat was so upset with the team’s uninspired play that she had hurled some derogatory remarks at the Holy Trinity bench. Coach Red Wagner was fired a few days later.

  ***

  In the days that followed, it was obvious that Mary Ellen was overwhelmed in her new job as the business manager. There was much more involved than paying bills and balancing a checkbook. Terry told Bishop that when Sister Ann became aware of the problem, she instructed her to call Annette and ask her to come in for a few days to help Mary Ellen get up to speed. It was a call that Terry didn’t want to make, but made nevertheless.

  Understandably, Annette wasn’t very receptive to the idea. Although she felt sorry for her replacement, she said something about hell freezing over before she would do the principal any favors. As a matter of fact, she was considering hiring a lawyer to sue the school over the false accusations made against her. Unfortunately, Annette would be wasting her time trying to make a case against the school. The contract of every teacher and staff member clearly stated that the administration had the right to dismiss any employee for any reason, and even for no reason, at any time.

  When Terry reported the results of her phone call to the principal, Sister Pat was also in the office. Sister Ann seemed genuinely perplexed by Annette’s response. Sister Pat referred to their former employee as an “ungrateful bitch.” Sister Ann then asked Sister Pat to assist Mary Ellen with preparation of the next monthly payroll. Bishop said nothing when told of this request, but thought that it was the equivalent of asking her to fly.

  The only positive that came of Mary Ellen’s difficulties was that she rarely left her office during the day. She even ate lunch at her desk. That proved to be a welcome relief for Ron who had feared how her presence in the building would affect their relationship. They saw each other on weekends, but Ron avoided work-related talk as much as possible. She never explained how she got the job, and he never asked.

  ***

  Late one evening as he finished his class preparations for the next day, he received an unexpected call.

  “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

  Bishop recognized the voice. “Not at all, Lieutenant. How have you been?”

  “Fine, thanks. And you?”

  “Can’t complain. How’s the family?” Bishop had taught the Lieutenant’s daughter more than twenty years earlier. She had four children now.

  “Everyone’s doing well. Thanks for asking.”

  Lieutenant Hodge was a homicide detective with the Groveland Police Department. Bishop had assisted Hodge in the investigation of two murders in the last year or so. Bishop had an uneasy feeling about the purpose of his call. “What’s on your mind?”

  “I’ll cut right to the chase. I received a report from the medical examiner on the death of Nick Borelli.”

  Bishop’s mind raced as he took in the information. “Go on.”

  “The doc didn’t find any irregularities in the young man’s heart. Routine procedure required him to send blood samples for a toxicology analysis.”

  Bishop hadn’t given a thought to the possibility that Nick was on drugs. “What did they find?”

  Hodge paused and consulted his notes before answering. “Nick had 70 micrograms of caffeine per milliliter of blood in his system.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It’s the equivalent to the caffeine in 250 cups of coffee. He died of cardiac arrhythmia induced by an overdose of powdered caffeine. Given the nature of his sudden collapse during intermission of the most important game of the year, the ME’s conclusion is that it was not self-induced.”

  “You mean someone murdered Nick?” He would never have imagined a few weeks earlier that he would be asking that question.

  “That’s exactly what I mean.”

  “I assume that you’ve notified the family.”

  “Of course.”

  “If you don’t mind my asking, how did that go?”

  “The parents are divorced. Nick’s father, Victor, lives in Freemont. His reaction on the phone was rather subdued. He asked me a few questions, but didn’t express much emotion. Probably still in shock. A lot of men try to hide their emotions.”

  “What about the mother?” Bishop remembered seeing her at the game the night of the murder. She had been seated with Dr. Andrews.

  “I went to her home to deliver the news personally. Quite an impressive place, by the way. Her name is Alice Urbanski. She was in denial, at first. Said that everyone loved Nicky. Couldn’t believe that anyone would want to hurt him. After a few minutes, her denial turned to anger. Told me to do everything I could to find the bastard who killed her son.”

  “Easier said than done, I’m sure, especially since your investigation is only beginning several weeks after the event.”

  “You’re quite right. That’s exactly why I called. I’d like to enlist your considerable sleuthing skills to assist me in an unofficial capacity, of course. Are you in?”

  Bishop knew that he was not Hercule Poirot, but if using his “little grey cells” would help the authorities in apprehendi
ng a killer, that was what he had to do.

  “I’m in, Lieutenant. I’m all in.”

  Chapter Five

  Before ending the conversation, Hodge cautioned Bishop that when the news broke in the morning, there would be no shortage of rumors and speculation, most of which would be totally baseless. Hidden within all that chatter might be some detail that would lead to the apprehension of the killer.

  Bishop spent a restless night trying to imagine what type of person would kill a young man who was only a junior in high school. Of course, from the evening news, he knew that such incidents occurred on a sadly regular basis. It simply had never occurred in the small town of Groveland in all the years that he had lived there. He thought of East of Eden, a novel in which John Steinbeck explores the nature of good and evil. At first, he identifies some characters as good (mostly those whose names begin with the letter “A” such as Adam) and others as bad (mostly those whose names begin with the letter “C” such as Charles). One character in particular, Cathy, who murders her own parents, seems so purely evil that he classifies her as a “monster.” As the novel unfolds, Steinbeck begins to realize that his initial characterizations were too simplistic. The so-called good characters are capable of evil, and the so-called bad characters are capable of good. He even comes to question his own assessment of Cathy as a monster.

  Steinbeck ultimately concludes that every person is capable of good and capable of evil. What is important is his belief that individuals are not predestined to be one or the other. He uses the Hebrew word, timshel, to express his belief that each person has the choice to do good or to do evil. Nick Borelli’s death was caused, not by a monster, but by someone who had chosen to take his life. The medical examiner’s report explained how it had happened. Someone must have spiked the water bottle he was using during the game with a deadly dose of caffeine. Any fingerprints or other incriminating evidence were long erased as no one treated Nick’s death as a crime. That would complicate the investigation, but not make it impossible. Two nagging questions needed an answer: who had done it and why.

  ***

  He arrived at school early the next morning as he usually did. Still, it was not early enough to avoid an encounter with the sentinel at the entrance, Sister Pat. From the powdered sugar that she was brushing off of her hands, it was obvious that she had just finished munching on a doughnut. There was no way of knowing whether that was her first of the day. Despite the health scare that she had experienced last year, she refused to alter her eating habits, and as a result, she was probably even heavier now than she ever had been.

  “You must be in your glory today,” she blurted out as Bishop walked in.

  “Excuse me?” He had no idea what she meant.

  “You must have heard by now. It’s all over the news. They’re saying someone took Borelli out. Now you get to play detective again.”

  His first thought was that she was joking, but her disparaging tone suggested otherwise. He marveled at her insensitivity. “I’m not going to ‘play’ anything. A murder was committed in this building, and I am going to help the authorities in any way that I can to find the person responsible.”

  “Well, just don’t forget that you get paid to teach your classes,” she warned as she wagged her finger at him.

  Bishop was tempted to ask her exactly what she did to earn her salary, but he refrained. He simply walked past her as he headed to the faculty room to make himself a cup of green tea. When he arrived there, the only person in the room was the maintenance man, Jack Slater. He was wearing baggy pants, an old checkered shirt with a few grease stains on it, and a pair of unlaced work boots. Jack had worked for the town for years, found retirement boring, and started working at Holy Trinity about eight or nine years ago. He enjoyed his work, but he enjoyed keeping tabs on the personal lives of the people around him even more.

  Jack had the Groveland Gazette spread out on the table in front of him. He had a half-eaten chocolate glazed doughnut in his left hand. Just to the right of the newspaper was a coffee mug with the words “Old Fart” printed in large letters.

  “Morning, Mr. Bishop.” He glanced at the clock on the wall near the door. “Early as usual.” Jack probably knew exactly when each member of the staff arrived at school.

  “Good morning, Jack.” He placed his briefcase on an empty chair as he went to prepare his tea. “Who brought the doughnuts?”

  “Terry. Says she won a bundle on a scratch-off ticket.”

  “Good for her,” Bishop said as he recalled what difficulties Jack encountered after he had won some money in a similar fashion.

  As if Jack had a similar thought, he quickly changed the topic. “Better grab one of them doughnuts while there’s still some for the grabbing. I swear that Sister Pat has been in here three times already this morning, and she usually doesn’t come down here in the morning at all.”

  Bishop was just about to grab his briefcase and head up to his room when Jack tapped at the newspaper, and asked, “Can you believe this?”

  “Believe what?” He knew very well what Jack meant, but he wasn’t going to tell him of his conversation with Lieutenant Hodge.

  “Haven’t you seen the paper this morning?”

  “No, I don’t have home delivery. I don’t have time to read the paper in the morning.”

  “According to this, that Borelli kid was murdered.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Who would want to do a thing like that?” He pushed the paper in Bishop’s direction. He put his cup of hot tea down, picked up the paper, and read through the article. It didn’t add much to what he already knew. The last sentence was the most telling, and he read it aloud. “There are no suspects at this time.”

  Jack took a sip of his coffee and looked directly at Bishop. “I can think of one right off the bat.”

  “Really? Who might that be?” Hodge had warned him that the speculation would start almost immediately.

  “Dave Cavanaugh.”

  The response caught Bishop off guard. “What makes you think that?”

  “When Nick arrived, Dave lost a lot of playing time. Him and his dad were counting on a big senior year to get the attention of the college coaches. And Borelli was set to steal his thunder in baseball too. From what I understand, he hasn’t been offered a single scholarship.”

  “That’s all speculation,” countered Bishop. “I’m sure that lots of players lose playing time to other teammates, and they don’t turn around and kill them. Besides, Dave delivered such a moving tribute to his friend at the prayer service.” At this point, he was trying to convince himself that Jack was way off base.

  “That’s true,” Jack said, unconvinced. “That’s true, but if he had done it, wouldn’t a public display of his grief be just the ticket to deflect attention from himself?”

  Bishop picked up his cup of tea that had cooled considerably. As he left the room, he couldn’t escape the feeling that Jack may have made a good point. Among the several hundred other people that had been in the building that night, Dave would have had more of an opportunity to access to Nick’s water bottle than many of the others. According to the article in the newspaper, the water bottle he used during the game had to have been the way the deadly dose of caffeine was introduced into his system. He had a strong feeling that although Dave might be the first suspect, he certainly wouldn’t be the last.

  ***

  As he arrived at Terry’s desk, she was just finishing a phone call. When she put the receiver down, she looked at him and exhaled deeply as if she were already exhausted. “That’s the fourth call I’ve had this morning from parents who are concerned about the safety of their kids now that the word is out about what happened to Nick.”

  “What are you telling them?”

  “I’m directing them to one of the administrators or to guidance. Dealing with stuff like that is above my pay grade,” she said with a chuckle.

  He moved a little closer to her and whispered, “I hope that Sister Pat has the sensitivity t
o handle a call like that.”

  “Don’t worry,” Terry replied. “She doesn’t take any calls that she doesn’t absolutely have to take.” She added in a sarcastic tone, “She’s way too busy for that!”

  She looked around to see if anyone was approaching the office before speaking. “Do you have any idea who might have done it?”

  He expected to get that question more than once. “Not the foggiest,” he quickly replied. “Do you?”

  “Well,” she said as she gave in to her fondness for gossip, “Did you know that Nick was dating Liz Atkins?”

  “No, but now that you mention it, I do remember seeing them together in the halls occasionally.”

  “Not in the last couple of weeks before that game with Catholic Central, you haven’t,” she corrected.

  “What do you mean?”

  “That’s when he dumped her for Ashley Barrington.”

  “Are you sure that he dumped her?”

  “Yup. He dumped one beautiful cheerleader for another. Those two girls haven’t spoken to each other since.”

  “And that’s what makes you think that Liz had something to do with Nick’s death?”

  She smiled demurely. “Didn’t someone once say something about the wrath of a woman scorned?”

  Bishop thought for a second and then recited, “‘Heaven hath no rage like love to hatred turned,/ Nor Hell a fury like a woman scorned.’”

  “I’m impressed!”

  “I am an English teacher, you know. They are probably the most famous lines of the British playwright, William Congreve.” He wondered how he was able to remember those lines from a play that he hadn’t read in years, and yet he sometimes struggled to remember the name of one of his current students. And then he wondered about Terry’s suggestion. Could Liz have been so upset with Nick that she would plot to murder him? As a cheerleader at the game, she might have had a chance to slip something into his drink. He had been in the building only a matter of minutes, and he already had two suspects to consider.

  “I really stopped by to congratulate you on the winning ticket and to thank you for the doughnuts.”