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Shandra was drained by the time her pottery class started. The assembly had been solemn but the lack of restraint by Nancy while talking with the girls had her consoling tearful victims of Mr. Huntley several times. She was pleased when Mr. Pawner interrupted and told those who wanted to go home, they were excused for the rest of the day.
As she walked out of the multi-purpose room with Lana, she glanced over her shoulder and saw the principal giving Nancy an earful. She felt bad for her friend, but at the same time, she should have stepped aside and let someone not so close to the problem handle things.
At the door to the pottery room, she pulled Lana to the side. “You can go home if you want.”
The girl shook her head. “I’d be alone there. Here, now that Mr. Huntley is gone, I feel safe.”
Shandra gave the girl a quick hug, and they entered the room. She wasn’t surprised to see Travis sitting at his pottery wheel, but the scowl on his forehead was unlike the usual expression he had.
“Class, a terrible tragedy happened here yesterday, but we must carry on. You can’t let one bad thing ruin your day, your week, your year, your life.” She glanced at Lana. The girl nodded.
Having spent the last hour in a group with the students who had been subjected to Mr. Huntley, she now realized she had three in her morning class and two in her afternoon class. She wished these girls had come to her in the beginning.
A knock on the door drew her attention.
Ryan stood outside her room.
She moved to the door and stepped out where she could keep an eye on the class. “Did you find anything?”
“I did. I’m waiting for a deputy to stand guard while I load it in my SUV. I want to take what I’ve found to Coeur d’Alene myself. I’ll be late getting home tonight because I want to stay around and wait for the results.”
She could tell by the way his gaze traveled to the room, he was keeping an eye on the kids watching him talk to her.
“Do you suspect one of the students?” She didn’t like to think one of the students in this building had felt the need to kill Mr. Huntley.
“I don’t want it to be a student, but from what I’ve found so far, it could very well be.” He nodded toward the room. “Be careful, you talking to me could put you in danger.”
She shook her head. “Not from my students.” But she did a quick scan and noted everyone was watching her talk to Ryan.
“I’m thinking more about the staff. Mr. Shepard was too inquisitive when I searched Huntley’s room, and Ms. Tierney was with me when I found what I suspect is the murder weapon.”
“You found it?” She lowered her voice. “Where?”
“In the room where they store props. There was glitter on the victim’s hair, face, and clothing that didn’t hit the wall.”
“You think someone used the prop to knock him into the wall? But how would they know it would kill him?”
Ryan shook his head. “I have a feeling while they were premeditated in getting the prop, I think it was more for scaring than actually killing the man. That a blow that substantial would happen is a long shot.”
Deputy Trapp entered the building.
“I have to go. I’ll call you tonight.” Ryan wanted to kiss her but realized they were both working and that wouldn’t be professional for either. He turned to Trapp as Shandra returned to her class.
“I think I’ve found the murder weapon. I need you to remain in the room while I haul them out to my SUV.”
Trapp nodded and fell into step beside him. At the prop room, the deputy scanned the items. “You aren’t hauling all of this to forensics, are you?”
“No. Just these tall wooden sparklers.” Ryan pulled on latex gloves and picked up the first one. “I’ll stash this in my vehicle and be right back. Don’t allow anyone in the room.”
Trapp nodded.
Ryan carried the first prop out of the building and loaded it into the back of his SUV. He locked the door on the vehicle and returned for the other three props. When he had them all loaded, he thanked Trapp for standing guard and headed to his vehicle.
Mr. Pawner stood by Ryan’s Tahoe. “Why did you load those props into your rig?”
“I believe one of them may be the murder weapon.” Ryan walked to the door of his vehicle.
“A prop? Are you insinuating that one of the students may have killed Roger?” Pawner’s face scrunched up and became a ruddier hue.
“I’m not insinuating anything. I’m following the clues. They led me to the prop room and these props.” He opened his door. “I have to get this to Coeur d’Alene.” He slid behind the steering wheel and closed the door. This was the first time that the principal had shown any interest in the investigation. Which led Ryan to add him to the list of possibilities.
~*~
Shandra finished the day at her usual time. Both classes had been subdued as well as the cafeteria during lunch. It appeared while Mr. Huntley being gone was a relief to those he’d victimized, however, his death had put a cloak over the school.
She tidied up the room. As she walked by the student’s projects sitting on the shelves, she stopped and stared. Travis’s lop-sided bowl now looked like a head with one side cracked open. She sucked in air. Had Travis seen the body? But when? And how? Did he also see who hit Mr. Huntley?
Travis could be a witness.
She picked up his clay, settling it in a box gingerly to not allow the piece to collapse. With the box under her arm, she picked up her coat and purse and headed to the main building and the office. She needed to get the Lange’s address.
Ms. Miller was whispering over the window to Rachel.
“I can’t believe it’s taking so long for the police to figure this out,” Gertrude whispered.
“It’s because so many people wanted him dead,” Rachel said matter-of-factly.
“Rachel, I was wondering if you could give me the Lange’s address, please.” Shandra’s words made Gertrude jump back from the window and Rachel pick up papers.
“Why do you need to see them at home? You can call them in for a consult.” Rachel stacked the papers and stared at her.
“I’d prefer to speak with them at home. It will make Travis more comfortable.” She’d placed the box in her Jeep before coming to the office. She didn’t want anyone to think she suspected Travis.
“He was acting strange yesterday. Do you think he saw something?” Gertrude asked.
“No, I have some questions about his motor skills that pertain to molding clay.” A little white lie was better than getting any rumors floating around.
Rachel clicked keys on the computer then wrote on a sticky-pad. “Here you go.”
“Thank you.” She turned to leave.
“But why didn’t you have this discussion at the beginning of the quarter instead of now?” The accusation in the secretary’s voice wasn’t lost to Shandra.
She spun around. “Because I believe the class is helping his motor skills and it is something he needs to keep doing.” She pushed on the doors and exited the school.
It was as if the secretary was trying to put the blame on Travis. Shandra hoped to make him the hero.
~*~
Ryan handed the four giant sparklers over to the technician in charge of his case. “I’ll be in town when you get the results, give me a call.”
He knew it would take a couple hours, which would give him enough time to visit his little sister, Bridget, and her three children. While he’d attended more family functions since he and Shandra became engaged, he was still hesitant to hang out too much or make it a routine. In his line of work, he would always have to be careful when it came to his family.
Within twenty minutes he stood on his sister’s doorstep, ringing the bell.
Darla, the middle child answered the door. “Uncle Ryan!” she shrieked and catapulted into his arms.
“Hey, Darla. Why are you answering the door instead of Mommy?” He’d given his sister the stranger at the door speech enough times she should have it tattooed to her brain.
“Mommy don’t feel good.” The little girl’s smile turned into a frown and she wiggled to get loose.
Ryan put her down and shut the door before following the little tornado’s wake down the hall to the master bedroom.
Wally, the three-year-old, sat on the bed, pulling tissues out of a box. Bridget had her eyes closed. Her breathing was raspy.
“Hey, sis.”
Her eyes slowly opened. “Hey.”
“How long have you been like this? Where’s Wallace? Why didn’t you call mom?” Ryan reached out and touched her forehead. It was hotter than a microwaved cup.
“If I called mom, she’d think I’m not a good mother. She never had anyone come help her out when she was sick.” Bridget started coughing.
Ryan picked up Wally and backed away. “Darla, take Wally in your room and play with him.” It was probably too late but if he could keep the kids from getting sick it would make Bridget’s recovery easier.
“He pulls the heads off my Barbies.” Darla shoved her hands on her hips and looked so much like her mother at that age, Ryan couldn’t help but grin.
“You think it’s funny he pulls their heads off?”
“No. You reminded me of someone we both know.” He glanced over at his head-strong younger sister. She was pale and wheezing. “Take him to his room then.”
“But all he has is baby toys.” The bottom lip came out in the perfect pout.
“You only have to play with him until Grammy gets here.”
Darla whooped and dragged her younger brother out of the room.
“Where’s Wallace?” he asked, again.
“Out of town this week.” Bridget managed between coughing fits.
The doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it!” yelled Darla.
He stuck his hand out, stopping the child’s sprint down the hall. “No, you won’t.” He glared at Bridget. “You have to get through to them not to answer the door.”
“It’s Sheila.”
“You don’t know that for sure. It wasn’t Sheila when I came.” He turned Darla back to the bedrooms and walked down the hallway and across the living room to the front door. He opened the door and there stood his seven-year-old niece grinning at him with two missing teeth.
“Uncle Ryan! I knew you were here. I saw your car.” She walked in and dropped her backpack and coat on the floor beside the hall tree.
“Why don’t you go make a snack while I call Grammy.”
She gave him a thumbs up and skipped down the hallway.
He picked up the items she’d plopped on the floor, hanging them from hooks and pulled out his phone.
“Ryan what a pleasant surprise. Are you and Shandra coming to Sunday dinner?” His mom was always trying to get them to family functions.
“No. I need your help, well rather—”
“Is something wrong with Shandra?” she interrupted.
“No. She’s fine. It’s Bridget. I came by to say ‘hi’ while I was in town and she’s so sick she can’t...” He stepped into the kitchen and couldn’t believe his eyes. Of his two sisters, Bridget was the most like their mom. Fastidious was their middle name. “Holy shit!”
“Ryan! You know I don’t—”
“Mom, she needs your help bad. This kitchen looks like a bombed aide camp.” He couldn’t believe that three little kids could make this much mess.
“I’ll be there in two hours. Do you have time to stick around that long?” He heard her opening a closet door.
“Yes. I’m waiting for evidence from the Forensic Lab.” He rubbed a hand over his face. He’d never been the sympathetic brother. Now it was his turn to show his sister that side of him.