The next day, I walked into Hunter's Hollow elementary school with a pretty fall floral arrangement in my hands. I was going to talk to the principal, Gerald Stack, and I didn't want to show up empty-handed. I also happened to know that Principal Stack’s secretary loved flowers. Her husband came into Petal Pushers on all the major holidays and bought her expensive bouquets. Little did he know that she would have preferred smaller bouquets throughout the year for no reason at all, versus massive yet fewer bouquets on holidays that could be viewed as an 'I had to get you something' rather than a 'just because' gift. I made a mental note to tell her husband that next time he came in. It was a win-win. His wife would be happy, and Petal Pushers would sell more bouquets.
Over the years she had come to call Petal Pushers before holidays to say what kind of arrangement she wanted. I figured since I was stopping by without an appointment, it would be a good idea to have something to butter her up with. She was probably the gatekeeper and if I had any hope of getting in to see him, it would be because she squeezed me in.
I hadn't been in the elementary school since I left after the fifth grade, but there was something about the smell of the school that just made me feel like I was a kid again. I wouldn't want to go to high school again, but I have fond memories of elementary school and middle school. As I walked down the hall, I even remembered the way to the office, which kind of surprised me. Especially when sometimes I couldn’t remember what I did the previous day.
I pushed open the door to the administration offices and saw Donna Harlow, the office secretary, sitting behind the desk. She smiled when she looked up at me.
"Presley Thurman—I mean Sands. To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?" she asked me in a singsong voice.
"I was actually hoping to speak to Principal Stack."
Donna frowned. "I don't see an appointment here," she said, running her finger down the list.
I leaned over the counter a little bit closer to her and whispered, "I don't have an appointment, but I was hoping you could get me in, even if just for a couple minutes. I don't need much of his time. Oh, by the way, this is for you," I said, setting the bunch of flowers on the counter and pushing them a little in her direction.
"Are you giving me these just to butter me up to get you in to see Principal Stack?"
"Will it work?"
"Of course. I would do almost anything for some pretty flowers," she said with a wink. "Go have a seat. He's on a phone call right now, but as soon as he is off, I will sneak you right in."
"Thank you, Donna." I followed her instructions and sat in the waiting area for probably about ten minutes, watching the comings and goings of kids and a few parents.
“Are you going to the Fall Harvest Festival that’s coming up?” I asked her.
“I wouldn’t miss it. I love looking at all the flower arrangements that enter the contest, and Adams Creek Farms make the best cinnamon sugar donuts.”
“I know! I think that’s my favorite part.”
“Okay, it looks like he’s off his call,” she said and motioned me to walk back up to her desk.
She picked up the phone and held a finger up to me. "Principal Stack, Presley Sands is here to see you. Yes, you’re due at the county administration building at one-thirty." She hung up the phone.
"You can go on in," she said to me.
I thanked her again.
Donna had motioned me down a short hall to his office, saying it would be easy to find. I had never been to the principal’s office as a kid, so I didn't know exactly where it was. But two doors down was a small sign next to the door that said Principal Stack. I walked in and saw a man probably in his mid-fifties with gray hair in some kind of spiky hairdo, like he was trying to be one of the cool kids of the school’s age group.
"Take a seat. How can I help you, Mrs. Sands?" he said, his baritone voice booming.
I had a feeling he commanded respect with one word among the elementary set.
“I wanted to talk to you about Susan Merriweather," I said, and his face didn't change expression. I was sure having a good poker face was probably a good skill when you were a principal.
“Why would you be asking about Susan Merriweather?"
"You didn't hear what happened?" I slid into a chair facing his desk.
"Yes," he said, lowering his head and giving it a little shake. "What a horrible, horrible thing to happen to such a nice person."
"Yeah. It is a shame," I said.
"But I don't know why you are here asking questions," he said.
"Well, I'm trying to help her husband Dale get some closure. As you can imagine, he is very distraught."
"I can't even imagine. I've been married thirty years or so and couldn’t imagine…" he trailed off.
"You understand why he feels he needs closure."
"I do, I do. I don’t mean to be offensive here, but what does that have to do with you?"
"I was working with Susan on our entry into the Fall Harvest Festival flower contest. She and my mother have won it for the last ten years as partners, and with my mom away, I’m filling in. I can only hope to do half as well as they've done, and I was really looking forward to working the festival with her."
"Susan did love anything to do with flowers. One of the things her students liked most over the years is in the spring before Mother's Day, when she would have them plant a flower seed and watch it grow to give their moms."
“I actually remember doing that." It was those little things you did when you were young that made you actually like school. Learning was fun and didn’t seem like learning.
"I‘m not sure how I can be of any help. I have no idea who might have harmed Susan. I didn't know much about her personal life."
"I heard that there was some animosity between you and Susan."
"Who did you hear that from?" His voice didn't change pitch, but his eyes flashed a little. I could tell he was slightly annoyed. I figured since Dale had been so quick to throw Gerald Stack and Nikki Wainscot under the bus, he wouldn’t care if I used his name now.
"Well, Susan's husband Dale told me that there was some bad blood between you and Susan, as well as between Susan and the PTA president."
Principal Stack snorted. “Figures Susan would try and say that.”
“You weren't trying to force her to retire?"
He paused and didn't answer right away, which told me that he probably did want her to retire, but he was weighing his words carefully. I was patient and waited until he started speaking again. One of my old tricks left over from my HR days. I had learned that trick early. Not to be afraid of silence, because the other person would usually start talking. People didn't generally like silence.
“This is off the record," he said, pausing to look at me.
I nodded in agreement, though his statement seemed odd. It wasn't like a was a reporter or anything.
"Susan Merriweather was a great teacher." He paused again and I sensed a but coming.
"I mean she was a great teacher with the kids. She could really reach them and talk to them at their level. Not so much with the parents, and in the past year she had become more and more… how should I say this… inappropriate with parents."
"Inappropriate? How?"
“Not that kind of inappropriate," he said to me in a rush, his eyes widening a little, and I relaxed a bit. "She was lecturing students and parents on things that were not her business, and she didn't hold her tongue when she should have known better. Giving her opinion to some parents about how they parented, for example."
I could see that really ticking people off. No one liked to be told how to parent. “You're saying you got complaints and it got to be too much, so you thought asking her to retire was better than addressing it with her so those kids could get a good education?"
"I know it sounds bad. But it's different times now, a different generation. And her job is just to teach, not lecture people on their parenting skills."
"Did something specific happen?"
He hesitated and I understood that whatever he was about to tell me was something that needed to stay confidential.
“I won’t repeat this to Dale."
"Well, Dale already knows. This is just not something that I should be sharing, but I guess under the circumstances, I wouldn't be surprised with Susan's recent passing this all comes out anyway."
Twenty minutes later, as I walked out of the principal's office, I was still shocked at what he'd told me. The suspect list had just grown bigger.