Mean Evergreen (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book Twelve) Page 16

“I can,” she said. “What are you interested in?”

  “Anything weird. A kid going from Ds to As or vice versa.”

  She looked through with Hobbes leaning over her shoulder. There were a few kids that had grades changed in the second quarter, but they said that wasn’t unusual. Some students were lax initially and then got it together to save their grade. Some just got less and less interested as the semester went by. There was nothing dramatic.

  “Is there an Alison in any of Anton’s classes?”

  They looked through and said no.

  “How about student council?” I asked.

  Meredith shook her head. “No. Sorry. Which Alison are you looking for exactly?”

  “I don’t know. I just heard an Alison might also have been the origin of the rumor.” I slapped my forehead, getting sugar all over myself. “Look at pre-calc classes. She’s in a pre-calc class with a kid named Jordan.”

  “You’re very well informed,” said Hobbes. “That has to be Jordan Morris. I think we only have one Jordan.”

  “We do,” said Meredith. “Let me see.”

  She found what she was looking for and then pursed her lips.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I don’t know if I should tell you these things. They’re confidential.”

  “Trust me, they’re not.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I downed some coffee and said, “I will find out. If it’s on a computer, it can be found.”

  “Like how you discovered that fake stuff on Anton’s?” Hobbes asked.

  “Exactly like that and let’s face it, anybody can search around on Instagram and find a girl named Alison that goes to this school.”

  “Hell,” said Moe. “Grab a yearbook. It’s not rocket surgery.”

  “My dad says that,” I said.

  “My dad did, too, and it’s not.”

  Hobbes laughed. “Nothing is.”

  “Fair enough,” said Moe. “But we can go find a yearbook easy enough. That’s the point.”

  Aaron trotted out of the stacks, handed me a yearbook, and trotted right back.

  “And there you go,” I said, holding it up. “Last year, but she’s probably in here.”

  “About a third of our students leave every year, but you’ve got a good chance,” said Hobbes.

  I went through the juniors first and then the sophomores before I found her. Alison Fodor. She was an unremarkable girl in that she had zero clubs, sports, or organizations and only appeared in her class photo. She was pretty with brown hair and a shy smile.

  There was another Alison, but she was a freshman and less likely to be in pre-calc sophomore year.

  “So tell me about Alison Fodor,” I said, picking up another donut.

  The counselor sighed.

  “Oh, come on. Is she a regular rumor mill or what?”

  After a bit of persuasion, they gave it up, not that there was much to say. Alison was shy. She did well in class and neither counselor had any dealings with her other than schedule changes and standardized testing.

  “So not a gossip?” I asked.

  Meredith shook her head. “I wouldn’t think so, but you know kids. They can surprise you.”

  “No problems with Anton?”

  “Not that I know of,” said Hobbes.

  “Any classes with him.”

  Meredith bit her lip but then shook her head no.

  “I wonder how she knew,” said Moe.

  I flipped through the yearbook to Sergio’s photo. He was outgoing. That was easy to see, even from a picture. Broad smile. Twinkle in the eyes. He had it whatever it was.

  “Do Sergio and Alison have a connection?” I asked. “Dating?”

  Both counselors shrugged.

  “I can’t keep up with their private lives, even if I wanted to,” said Meredith. “I don’t remember seeing them together.”

  “They’re not really in the same group. He’s very popular and she’s just quiet and keeps to herself,” said Hobbes.

  “When did you first hear the rumors?” I asked.

  “Colleen Davidson told me,” said Hobbes. “She’s the pre-calc teacher.”

  “And what day?”

  Hobbes tapped his thick fingers on the table. “I guess it would be the day we found out. It was on the news, your attack I mean, but they weren’t naming names. Then, on Monday, our principal had everyone come in early for a meeting and he told us it was Anton. Sherri La Roche was hysterical. I took her home and when I came back, Colleen Davidson told me what she’d heard some students saying. She didn’t name the student.”

  “When was the student council emergency meeting?” I asked.

  “How do you know about that?” Meredith asked.

  I smiled and she chuckled.

  “Alright. Alright. It was at lunch.”

  “When was the pre-calc? Before that, I assume.”

  Meredith looked at her computer. “It was. First period.”

  “So that rumor happened pretty quick.” I finished my coffee and threw away my napkin and paper plate.

  “Is that important?” Hobbes asked.

  “I think so. It looks like Alison is the source,” I said. “She said the café was in Sindelfingen. The same as the ATM. I don’t think that’s a coincidence.”

  “There are no coincidences in my experience,” said Moe.

  “Are you a detective?” Meredith asked.

  Moe gave her a knowing look and said, “Let’s just say I come at it from an experienced point of view.”

  The counselor drew back, but before they could ask me anything about the weird guy with me, my phone rang.

  “You’re awake,” I said.

  Novak snorted. “Of course, I’m awake. I’m working.”

  “I always think of you as a night owl.”

  “That’s true, but I’ve got six projects going on and sleep isn’t an option. Plus, my mother’s threatening to come here.”

  “Great. I’d love to meet her,” I said.

  “We’re not giving her any ideas. Do you want to hear what I’ve got or not?”

  I wanted to say no just to be contrary, but I couldn’t do it. We didn’t have any time to waste if I was getting back home before Christmas. “Hit me.”

  Novak accessed the ATM footage again and found Anton consistently turned west when he left with his money. The Café Goethe was the most likely meeting place in that direction, and Novak confirmed that there was no one with Anton during any of the withdrawals so no gun to the back or anything like that. There was only one other security camera in the vicinity and it had Anton walking by alone every time.

  “Can I see the footage?” I asked.

  “Sure. It’s not exciting. Usual foot traffic.”

  “Any teenagers?”

  “Plenty. Did you find something?”

  “Maybe. I just want to see if I can see someone in particular. How about the times of the withdrawals? I never asked about that.”

  “Various days. Various times,” said Novak.

  “On the weekends?”

  “Yes. Three were on the weekends.”

  “Break it down for me.”

  I pulled an old school notebook out of my purse. Dad insisted they came in handy and he was right. He usually was, but I never told him so. It was difficult to bear his knowledge as it was. Novak gave me days and times and they fit a handy pattern. I smiled at the counselors and Moe smiled at me, tapping a knobby finger on one particular date. The old guy didn’t miss much.

  “When does school let out?” I asked.

  “Two forty,” said Hobbes. “Why?”

  I was going to ask Moe to use his phone to check something, but he was already on it and held the screen up to me. I nodded and took it. A quick look confirmed my memory.

  “Anything else on Berlin?” I asked and was rewarded with the counselors’ eyebrows jutting up. It was fun being back at school and sitting with counselors that weren’t trying to tell me in a polite way that my bo
dy was a problem. It wasn’t my fault it didn’t fit into a uniform neatly. I wasn’t going to strap my breasts down as one suggested.

  “No library footage. I’ve got a friend looking at parking garages and an ATM down the street,” Novak said. “Spidermonkey sent a report on that Sergio kid.”

  “Not to me,” I said.

  “He didn’t want to wake you and it was only to say there’s nothing. No action financially for the kid or his parents.”

  “Nothing in Sindelfingen?”

  “Charges at the IKEA, but that’s it.”

  “I figured, but thanks.”

  I hung up and pushed my notebook over to Meredith. “These are the dates of Anton’s withdrawals. Can you check and see if there was anything going on on those days?”

  “Like what?” Hobbes asked.

  “Did he take off any of those days? Skip out on a class for a doctor’s appointment? Anything like that.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t have access to his employment records, but I don’t remember him taking any sick days. Hobbes?”

  “Me either. I think Anton would’ve come in, even if he was on his last legs. That’s why I thought the family thing in the States must’ve been a big deal. Some teachers take off every chance they get. Leave no sick days on the table, but not Anton. I don’t think he took any days.”

  I took back the notebook and underlined four days before sliding it back to Meredith. “How about these days? Anton took money out an hour earlier.”

  She looked at the dates and checked the computer. “Oh, of course. Those are Thursdays.”

  “So?” Moe asked.

  “Thursdays are early release days,” said Hobbes.

  “Well, there you go.”

  “I don’t get it,” said Meredith.

  “Could he leave school during the day?” I asked. “Lunch? Free period.”

  “Sure,” said Hobbes. “He had a free period on Gold days.”

  “Hobbes!” exclaimed Meredith.

  The old marine leaned back in his chair and it gave out a low groan so that I feared for its structural integrity, but it continued to hold him. “Anton’s free period wasn’t secret. I knew. You knew. Everyone knew.”

  “I guess. I just don’t want to break any rules.”

  He cracked knuckles and said, “I’m not breaking anything and if I did, it’d be for a good cause.”

  “How long would he have had on these Gold days?” Moe asked.

  “An hour and a half,” said Meredith.

  “Plenty of time.”

  “For what?” Hobbes asked.

  “To get the money out of the ATM,” I said. “Do you have the schedule available?”

  Meredith found the correct page and turned the screen to me. The high school had a block schedule, black and gold days. Some of the days of the ATM withdrawals did match Gold days, but no withdrawals were done at the time of his free period. He only went to Sindelfingen after school, never before or during. There were only three weekend withdrawals and two were in Weil der Stadt. I showed the pattern to the counselors, but they shook their heads.

  “I don’t understand,” Meredith said. “What are you getting at?”

  “We think he gave the money to the blackmailer at the times that he went to the ATM, so the blackmailer was available at those times, too. Not during his free period, lunch, etc.”

  “Do you think it’s one of us,” said Hobbes. “That’s crazy. If it was, why bother to go to Sindelfingen? He could just get the money at the PX and hand it over in the hall.”

  “It’s not a coincidence and Mercy’s got a feeling,” said Moe.

  “A feeling?”

  “It means something. They were available an hour early on those Thursdays, but not during his free periods.” I turned the computer toward us again. “Look at these days. He got money out on all four teacher workdays, but never did it on a holiday, like Thanksgiving weekend or Veteran’s day. Why?”

  The counselors were thinking hard and fast, but they couldn’t quite get it. Moe did. That calculating geezer smelled exactly what I was cooking.

  “Witnesses,” he said.

  “Huh?” Hobbes said.

  “Somebody was around on holidays. They couldn’t just traipse off to Sindelfingen because they’d notice,” he said.

  They nodded and Meredith said, “I don’t think it means that it’s connected to one of us.”

  I was pretty sure it was, but I nodded because the dots weren’t connecting. I could almost see the picture, but not quite. “Can I see Anton’s room?”

  Hobbes heaved a sigh of relief. “Of course. We didn’t know what to do with his materials.”

  “Some suggested burning, but that’s not right,” said Meredith. “It’s not our stuff to burn.”

  “I’ll take it,” I said. “Kimberly might want it.”

  “Or she might burn it,” said Moe.

  “It depends a lot on what we find out.” I stood up and waved to Aaron who trotted out of the stacks with a pile of cookbooks and his ever-present notebook. “You hungry?”

  “I just ate five donuts,” I said. “Try bloated and regretful.”

  Aaron just blinked and Meredith shifted from foot to foot, trying not to look at the little weirdo, who, if I’m honest, never looked odder than he did right then. Hair sticking up all over. Glasses at a tilt and I’m sorry to say it, but he’d exchanged the Picard jacket for what looked like my mother’s old winter coat from about six years ago and he’d tied that around his neck like a sweater.

  “Do you mind if he takes the cookbooks with us to Anton’s room?” I asked. “He’s a chef.”

  At the word chef, a woman popped her head in. “Did I hear my name?”

  “Hey Grace,” said Hobbes. “Come in.”

  The counselor introduced the school’s culinary arts teacher, a former executive chef who left a Michelin starred restaurant to teach high school students cooking.

  “You don’t hear that story very often,” I said.

  “People thought I was crazy, but they didn’t understand the situation. I was working ninety-plus hours a week, depressed, and morbidly obese. I’m happier now.”

  “I can see that,” said Moe. “Do you have a kitchen at the school?”

  “I do. It’s a pretty sweet setup.” She looked to Aaron. “You want to see it?”

  Aaron trotted out the door and Grace looked at me.

  “That’s a yes,” I said.

  “You’re all invited, too.”

  “We’ll just get in the way.”

  “I can’t believe he’s here,” said Grace. “When I heard, I didn’t believe it.”

  “You know who Aaron is?” I asked.

  “Of course, he’s an Instagram star.” She glanced over her shoulder to the door. “I better go. This building is confusing. He’ll get lost.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” I said. “If there’s a kitchen, he’ll find it.”

  Grace left in search of Aaron, who would undoubtedly be standing in front of her stove and testing the burners or whatever.

  “To Anton’s room?” Meredith asked.

  I said yes and we went through the school, upstairs, and around corners. I had no idea where I was or how to get out. It was a good thing I didn’t have to.

  “Here it is,” said Hobbes and he unlocked the door.

  Nobody made a move to go in, so I went first. I have to admit that I got a weird little chill going in Anton’s domain. It felt…it felt like someone was there. Let me be clear. The room was completely empty, but it didn’t feel that way. I had a pressure in my chest, a pushing, pressing knee on the back kind of feeling.

  “Well, that’s not great,” said Moe, coming in and putting a steadying hand on my arm.

  “What?” I whispered.

  “The guy’s still here.” He said it like it should be obvious.

  “I know, right,” said Meredith. “Nobody wants to come in here. One of the MPs came to search for evidence and had a panic atta
ck.”

  “The Polizei didn’t fare much better,” said Hobbes. “They are a pretty tight-lipped and methodical bunch, but in here, boy, did they move fast. In and out under ten minutes.”

  “What did they say?” I asked.

  “Not a thing. They just left.”

  “They didn’t take anything?”

  “No.”

  Hobbes looked at Meredith, who said, “Not that I saw.”

  I started moving around the room and if it hadn’t felt so bad it would’ve been really nice. Anton had taken great pains to decorate with pictures of students, posters, and quotes from the famous and unknown alike. His desk had clearly been shuffled through, but it was obviously neat and organized normally. I went through everything with Moe and found nothing of interest, certainly nothing referring to blackmail or money.

  There were some pieces of paper taped to the desk under the blotter and papers, along with pictures of Kimberly and the whole Thooft family. No pictures of them were displayed. Anton was very careful about that. There weren’t even any up in his own apartment. I took a picture of the papers and asked the counselors. “Are these sayings new?”

  They took a look and said they’d never noticed them before.

  “‘This too will pass,’” said Hobbes.

  “‘Breathe in. Breathe out,’” said Meredith. “Sounds like meditations.”

  I ran a finger over the tape around “I am in control” and said, “They look new. The paper is clean and the tape flat.

  “Stress control,” said Moe.

  “Well, classes can be stressful,” said Meredith, but she was wholly unconvincing.

  “It wasn’t the classes,” I said, going to a narrow shelf against the windows. Neatly displayed were four sets of books, two in each pile, one black and one gold. The first set was from five years ago. It had “Forever 5s” embossed on the black cover. Inside was a photo of Anton and a group of students holding up five fingers. There was also a list of names and colleges.

  “He called those his brag books,” said Meredith, her eyes watering for the first time. “These are the kids that got a five on their AP. He was so proud of them.”

  I picked up another book, one in gold titled “Fabulous 4s”. The students were holding up four fingers but were equally happy.

  “They got fours,” she said. “Still a huge deal.”

  I looked through the pictures for Sergio, but he wasn’t in the photos from last year. “I didn’t take AP Gov. When do they usually take it?”