Chase after the truth like all hell and you’ll free yourself, even though you never touch its coat tails.
—Clarence Darrow, “The Sign” May 1938
I WOKE UP a few minutes before my alarm rang. Once again, I was on the floor, my legs tangled in my sheets, my pillows piled up around me.
“What a night,” I muttered. “I wake up more tired than when I go to sleep.”
Of course Jack didn’t reply. He would likely be AWOL for a few hours—and on a day when I needed his spirit the most. I had to go to Spencer’s school, apologize, and explain what happened. I needed to defend my son like an ace attorney, and I couldn’t wait around for my ghost to reappear.
Before I could channel Clarence Darrow, however, I made a quick call to Eddie Franzetti, hoping he’d share any developments concerning the mysterious Enzo Santoro (if that was even his real name). But the police dispatcher informed me that the deputy chief took the morning off—Mrs. Franzetti was getting a medical test in Providence. When I heard that, I expressed my concern. The dispatcher confided it wasn’t anything serious and I sighed with relief—and a little frustration.
The Santoro update would have to wait.
Consequently, I turned my attention to my own situation. Last night, Jack tried to prove to me that I could handle myself in any situation. Okay, lesson learned. Now it was time to put my PI spirit’s tutorial to the test.
With my car still impounded and my adrenaline high, I made a snap decision. Instead of sending my son off to catch the school bus, I left Spencer snoozing in his bed while I grabbed my son’s bicycle and pumped the pedals like a Peloton princess. Breathing hard, I raced straight for Quindicott Elementary School and managed to reach the administration office before the homeroom bell sounded. My heart rate was up, my mind wide awake, and I was ready for a fight!
The young secretary looked up when I entered the reception area.
“May I help you?”
“I’m here to see Mrs. McConnell. My name is Penelope McClure. Spencer McClure is my son and—”
She literally jumped to her feet when I mentioned Spencer’s name. Apparently his reputation for juvenile delinquency preceded him. The secretary scurried around an open filing cabinet and into an interior office. Before I could draw breath, the young woman was back.
“Please come with me, Mrs. McClure.”
As soon as I was ushered into the principal’s office, Eleanor McConnell rose to greet me.
“So nice to see you, Mrs. McClure.”
With my nerves steeled for a fight, I gaped at the woman. Younger than any principal I remembered, and a new mother to boot, Eleanor McConnell usually displayed a sunny disposition, but her cheerful greeting and warm smile were far from what I expected, considering the grave charges the school had leveled against my son.
“Please, sit down, Mrs. McClure. I thank you for saving me a trip. I was about to visit you at your store.”
“Really? Has the school board reached its decision so soon?”
She shook her head. “The school board wasn’t informed about this situation.”
“I’m puzzled,” I replied. “Why?”
“Because this has all been a terrible misunderstanding.”
I nearly fell off my chair. “But didn’t the school nurse accuse my son of poisoning her? Didn’t Officer McCoy suggest criminal charges were pending?”
Principal McConnell replied in a calm, reasonable tone, which my own voice seemed to lack. “Mrs. McClure, let me explain.”
“Please do.”
“After I sent Spencer home with Officer McCoy, Mr. Burke approached me. Do you know Mr. Burke?”
“We met once. Spencer speaks highly of him.”
“Mr. Burke was in the school lab with your son and two other students when the nurse was . . . branded is the word, I guess, with purple food coloring. Spencer immediately confessed to doctoring the juice, assuring everyone that the mixture was harmless. Of course, harmless or not, with our policy of zero tolerance, I had no choice but to suspend him pending further action.”
“I sense a ‘but’ coming.”
“Mr. Burke and the other two students, who were getting ready for the science fair, knew about your son’s interest in forensics, in fingerprinting, in law enforcement, and they deduced that Spencer was simply trying to catch a thief.”
Principal McConnell placed both hands flat on her desk and leaned forward.
“Spencer caught more than Miss Merrimac’s juice thief, Mrs. McClure. He helped to capture a major felon and recover thousands of dollars in stolen goods.”
“I . . . I don’t understand.”
“Since the beginning of the school year this place has suffered some serious thefts,” the principal continued. “Supplies have consistently gone missing. A computer was stolen from the supply closet. A video camera vanished from the audiovisual room. And just last week I consoled a sobbing substitute teacher who had her engagement ring and mobile phone stolen out of her locker while she was conducting gym class.”
“I’m sure Spencer didn’t know about any of that.”
“No one knew,” the principal replied. “I kept the truth under wraps for good reason. I didn’t know if the guilty party was a student, or someone on the support staff, or heaven forbid another teacher. But thanks to your son, we now know who the culprit is.”
“I really don’t understand.”
“Because Mrs. Falstaff fell for Spencer’s trap, I became suspicious and had her personal locker opened. Trust me, it’s all legal, her locker is on school property, so we had every right to find out what was inside. Sure enough, we found the missing computer, the stolen engagement ring, mobile phone, and several other items that had gone missing.”
“I’m happy Spencer helped, but can’t Nurse Falstaff still press charges against my son?”
The principal shook her head. “She was playing the victim. Spencer was correct, she was in no danger. And he didn’t serve her the drink. She was the one who took another teacher’s juice bottle from the fridge and drank it. Nevertheless, there won’t be any charges filed by Nurse Falstaff simply because Chief Ciders has already arrested her on charges of grand theft.”
“There’s a lot of that going around,” I muttered.
“Needless to say, I don’t condone Spencer’s methods, but I can’t deny they were effective.”
Mrs. McConnell rose. “Spencer can come back to school in the morning. And worry not, I will strike today’s absence from the record, because it was our fault he missed school.”
I felt a rush of relief and pride. I didn’t condone Spencer’s stunt either, but his heart was certainly in the right place.
“Thank you, Mrs. McConnell,” I said, shaking her hand. “Before I go, I’d like to thank Mr. Burke, too.”
Mrs. McConnell’s sunny smile brightened.
“Of course. He’ll be thrilled to hear Spencer is returning. Right now, Mr. Burke is in the lab with the other science fair entrants. Come on, I’ll take you.”