Hush Puppy Page 7

  “I’m afraid that is the beginning. It happened just last week. I asked Krebbs at the time if he’d spoken to you about her, and he told me he was planning to take care of the problem himself.”

  “What problem? Who was she?”

  “I don’t know. At first, I assumed she was a student, too, but Krebbs said she wasn’t. And she certainly seems to come and go as she pleases . . .”

  “You mean you’ve seen her again?”

  “Just this morning. After we spoke, I went down to the basement.”

  “The archives.”

  I nodded. “There’s a room down there that looks as though it might once have been a wine cellar. Jane was in there.”

  Russell was looking more perplexed by the moment. “Doing what?”

  “I don’t know. She ran off again as soon as I saw her. Krebbs thought she’d been sleeping in the prop room, and he mentioned something about her stealing food.”

  “A runaway, perhaps?” Russell mused. “I wonder how long this has been going on. Is it possible she’s been living here and nobody knew?”

  “It’s a big campus. Still, I would think that if she were actually making a home here, we’d have seen more signs of her occupancy. I was wondering if maybe she lives in the neighborhood and comes over here during the day when she’s supposed to be in school.”

  “Why would she do something like that?”

  I had no answer, so I didn’t offer one.

  After a moment, Russell said, “You say she calls herself Jane? Any idea of a last name?”

  “None. Krebbs laughed when she told me her name was Jane. He seemed to think she was making it up.”

  “They’d met before, then.”

  “Apparently so. Krebbs was yelling at her when I came across them. I gathered it wasn’t the first time they’d had a confrontation.” Even though the man was dead, I didn’t try very hard to hide my annoyance, and Russell picked up on my tone.

  “Krebbs wasn’t always the easiest man to get along with,” he said wearily.

  It wasn’t my place to question the headmaster’s policies, but good sense has never stopped me from blurting out a question before. “Then why did you keep him on? From what I could see, the man hardly did any work.”

  “I had no choice in the matter. Nor did either of the headmasters before me. Krebbs had preceded all of us, and his job was guaranteed by the school for as long as he chose to work. Whether I agreed with the terms of Krebbs’s employment or not, there was nothing I could do about the situation but make the best of it.”

  I sat back in my chair, letting my body relax along the curve of the warm leather. “That sounds like an unusual arrangement.”

  “In the public-school sector, perhaps. But not here. You have to remember what things were like when Howard Academy was founded. Joshua and Honoria lived a life of great wealth and privilege. Often such families employed large numbers of servants, and it wasn’t unusual for valued retainers to hold a position for life.”

  I quickly counted back the decades and shook my head. “I know Krebbs was old, but—”

  Russell smiled slightly. “It was his father, Arthur Krebbs, who worked for the estate as Joshua’s butler. I gather Krebbs grew up on the Howard family compound in the company of Joshua’s children. I suppose it seemed only natural that he, too, would go to work for the family. As far as I know, Krebbs has always been a fixture here.”

  “I guess that explains his attitude,” I said under my breath.

  “You and he had problems?”

  “No,” I said quickly. “We’d never even spoken before last week. But I didn’t like the way he treated Jane, and I told him so. He said I was the one who didn’t understand how things worked.”

  Russell’s mouth flattened into a straight line. “You might have come to me about that.”

  “I wish I had. Then maybe none of this would have happened.”

  “Are you saying that you think the girl might have had something to do with Krebbs’s death?”

  Until the headmaster voiced the thought, I hadn’t allowed myself to think it. But it did make a certain sort of sense. I knew that Jane and Krebbs had argued, probably more than once. I’d also seen him threaten her. I knew she’d been on the school grounds earlier in the day, and she’d been the one to report the caretaker’s death.

  Mrs. Plimpton had described Jane as breathless and agitated. Had the girl’s state been due to the shock of stumbling over a dead body, or could it have been caused by the even greater shock of having just committed murder?

  “No,” I said fiercely. I wasn’t sure which one of us I was trying to convince. “She’s only a child. She hardly looked more than ten. She couldn’t have done something so awful . . .”

  “Even so, you need to tell this to the detective. Have you spoken with him?”

  “I tried, but he didn’t want to hear about it.”

  “Try again,” Russell said firmly, rising from his seat. “The sooner the police figure out what happened, the sooner we’ll all be able to get back to normal. I’ve issued a memo on the subject, it’s probably sitting in your mailbox right now. Everyone is to cooperate with the authorities to the fullest extent of their abilities.”

  “Of course,” I said, standing as well.

  “I’ve called an afternoon assembly. You’ll hear the bell shortly. The students know perfectly well that something happened. Keeping silent on the subject will only encourage more of the rampant speculation that already seems to be sweeping through the school. At this point, they’re much better off having the facts.

  “I will also announce that we’ll be holding a small memorial service for Eugene Krebbs this weekend. As far as I know, we at Howard Academy were his only family. My wife, Bitsy, is already working at putting things together. We’re hoping to find some alumni who might be able to provide remembrances and anyone who would like to take part is more than welcome.”

  “That’s very nice of you,” I said.

  “It’s the least we could do. Eugene Krebbs committed his life to the service of the Howard family and their vision of education. We have no intention of forgetting his contribution now that he’s gone.” The headmaster tapped his finger on the face of his watch and walked out from behind his desk. We headed to the door together.

  I’d done my duty by reporting what I knew; now it was time to satisfy my curiosity. “Krebbs seems like a rather unlikely murder victim to me. Do you have any idea why someone might have wanted to kill him?”

  “None,” Russell said firmly.

  The subject was closed.

  Eight

  Most afternoons Davey rode the school bus home from Hunting Ridge Elementary, a public school in the town of Stamford and my former place of employment. Though my son enjoyed school, I had the impression that he thought riding back and forth in the big yellow bus was the best part of his educational experience. He always emerged in front of our house in high spirits.

  Today, though, Davey didn’t come flying down the steps with his usual exuberance. Even when Faith bounded across the yard to greet him, he seemed distracted. Usually, he lets her chase him around the yard. Now he simply patted her head and stood, staring at our empty driveway.

  “What’s up?” I asked, looping my arms around Faith’s neck as a precaution as the school bus pulled away.

  “Where’s Sam?”

  “Sam?” My brow furrowed. That wasn’t the topic I’d been expecting. “I imagine he’s working. You know we hardly ever get to see him during the week.”

  “That’s why we spend the weekends together,” said Davey. “Except this weekend we didn’t.”

  “We saw him at the dog show.” I unhooked Davey’s backpack from his shoulders and slipped it off, carrying it myself as we went inside.

  “That was hardly any time at all. He was supposed to be here this afternoon. He said he’d come.”

  “When?” I thought back, but couldn’t remember any such promise.

  “This morning.�
��

  I glanced over at Davey. His expression was smug, and I wondered what he knew that I didn’t.

  That morning I’d overslept, awakening only when Faith—whose internal alarm clock was more reliable than the digital model next to my bed which I’d forgotten to set—had licked my face so I’d get up and let her out. The next half hour had been a blur as I’d rushed to make up for lost time and never quite succeeded.

  For the most part, Davey had been left to his own devices. He’d dressed himself, packed his backpack, and fixed his own breakfast. Beyond that, I had no idea what he’d been up to.

  “Sam and I talked this morning,” he told me now. “I called him on the telephone. I used the speed dial,” he added proudly. “Sam said there must have been something wrong with our phone all weekend because he called and called and never got us.”

  “Really?” I muttered. “What else did he say?”

  “That he was hoping we’d have a chance to get together real soon. So I invited him over.”

  Just like that. I sighed. Nothing like having a six-year-old social secretary to toss a spanner into the works. How could I throw a decent snit when Davey was working behind my back to patch things up?

  Faith lifted her head and looked toward the door, which I’d just closed behind us. She woofed softly, then jumped up to press her nose on the window beside it.

  “That must be him!” Davey threw open the door and boy and dog went flying out.

  I followed more slowly. Sam was indeed pulling his blue Blazer into the driveway. Tar was riding shotgun on the passenger seat, his muzzle wedged into the slit of open window Sam had left for him at the top.

  The puppy made snuffling noises, and, as the car rolled to a stop, Faith jumped up and planted her paws on the door. Mud from the half-melted, early-spring yard left a trail of paw prints on the clean window.

  Sam didn’t seem to notice as he came around to open the car door and let the puppy out. “Hi,” he said, smiling when he saw me on the steps. “What happened this weekend? I tried to call, but I couldn’t even get your machine. Was your phone out of order?”

  “Something like that.”

  Davey and the two Poodles rushed past me into the house. Sam came up the steps behind them. His body blocked the chilly air, and felt warm and wonderfully solid against mine. I slipped my hands around his sides and rested my head on his chest.

  “I missed you.” Sam’s lips brushed a kiss across the top of my head.

  I almost told him I’d missed him, too. Instead, I found myself straightening and pushing away. “How was your afternoon with Sheila?” I asked as we went inside.

  “Fine.”

  If he thought he was going to get way with offering that as an answer, he’d better think again. “Just fine?”

  Sam shrugged. “I propped up her fence and put a new washer on her faucet. It was no big deal.”

  Not to him, perhaps; but I’d have been willing to bet Faith’s first major that Sheila hadn’t been so blasé.

  Maybe I’d get more information by beating around the bush. “Does she have a nice place?”

  “It’s a pretty piece of land, but the house is nothing special. It’s also not in very good shape. Sheila will probably spend the whole time she’s here making repairs.”

  “Why’d she take it then?”

  “I doubt she had much choice. Not many landlords are looking to rent to someone with five dogs. You pretty much have to take what you can get and be thankful for it.”

  We’d reached the kitchen and found the back door standing open. Davey and the two Poodles were outside in the fenced yard, playing catch. I pushed the door shut to cut off the influx of cold air, then went to the refrigerator and got out a couple of beers. “Was it nice seeing Sheila again after all this time?”

  Sam accepted the can I offered him and looked at me warily. “Is that a trick question?”

  “No, I’d really like to know.”

  “Yeah, it was,” Sam said thoughtfully. “We had a chance to talk. We haven’t done that in years. When we broke up, every decision seemed to turn into a major hassle. Now it’s just not all that important anymore. Not worth arguing over, anyway. It’s a lot nicer to remember the good times.”

  Because it was easier to talk about this while my mind was half-occupied elsewhere, I opened a bag of nacho chips, shook them out onto a plate, covered them with cheese and jalapeño peppers and put them in the microwave. “How long were you and Sheila married?”

  “Five years and five months.”

  Funny that he should remember so precisely. “Whose idea was the divorce?”

  “Hers.”

  He hadn’t even hesitated. Damn it.

  “How come?”

  The microwave beeped. I removed the plate of steaming nachos, set it down in the middle of the table, then took a seat opposite. Sam looked at the plate for a long moment before finally choosing a piece from the edge. “Why are you so interested in all this?”

  “Are you kidding?”

  Sam didn’t answer, so I guessed he wasn’t. “Sheila is your ex-wife.”

  “So?”

  “So she’s someone who was once very important to you, someone you thought you’d be spending the rest of your life with.”

  “Yeah, well.” Sam chewed and slowly swallowed. “I was wrong. It doesn’t matter now anyway, does it? Sheila is my past. You’re my present and my future. You and Davey both.”

  Though his words warmed me, I couldn’t help but wonder. If Sheila had been put as firmly behind him as he claimed, why was Sam so reluctant to discuss her? And how come he’d been so happy to see her on Saturday?

  “Enough about me,” said Sam. “How was your day?”

  I gulped, choked on a nacho, and grabbed for a sip of beer. I wasn’t at all ready to change the subject; and even if I had been, this wasn’t the direction I’d have gone. Sam accepted the fact that I’d been involved in several murder investigations, but I knew he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the notion that it might happen again.

  “You okay?” He watched me recover.

  “Just fine.” I decided to lead into things slowly. “There was a bit of a problem at school this afternoon.”

  “What kind of problem?”

  “Nothing that concerns me, really.”

  “That’s nice.” Now he was growing suspicious. “What kind of problem?”

  “The school caretaker died. The police seem to think he was murdered.”

  “Murdered?” Sam paled slightly. “What happened?”

  I glanced out to the backyard, making sure that Davey was still happily occupied with the dogs. “Krebbs was stabbed with a pitchfork. It happened out in the cottage where all the equipment is stored. He was an elderly man who’d been a fixture around the school for decades. I can’t imagine why anyone would have wanted to hurt him.”

  “Could it have been an accident?”

  “The police don’t think so. Detective Shertz is heading up the investigation. I’m going to talk to him tomorrow.”

  Sam helped himself to another chip. “About what?”

  “There’s a girl named Jane who’s been hanging around the school. She was the one who found the body, and may also have been one of the last people to see him alive. I’ve only met her twice, but I seem to know more about her than anyone else.”

  Sam nodded, and we both let the silence stretch. I suspected there was more he wanted to say, but he didn’t offer, and I didn’t ask. Considering how I felt about Sheila’s unexpected presence in our lives, I figured that made us even.

  “Warm front’s supposed to be coming through tonight,” Sam said. “Tomorrow might hit sixty.”

  “Great!” I said, as my heart sank. We weren’t even married yet and already we’d been reduced to discussing the weather? That didn’t bode well for the future.

  I’d planned on driving down to the Greenwich police station after school on Tuesday, but that turned out not to be necessary. Detective Shertz was back
at Howard Academy, and when he’d finished meeting with Russell, the headmaster suggested he have a word with me.

  The detective arrived, unannounced, in my classroom at ten-thirty. I had a fourth grader doing math problems on the blackboard and another student due in twenty minutes. Neither of these facts made an impression on Shertz, who simply walked into the room and planted himself beside my desk.

  “Ms. Travis,” he said. “I understand we need to talk.”

  Wendy Jennings looked around nervously. She was a shy child, given to writing so lightly on her papers that the teachers had trouble reading her work. That was why I had her standing at the board. Along with the math, we’d been working on making bold, broad strokes with the chalk.

  “Wendy, do you think you can continue for a moment by yourself ?”

  She nodded, and I saw her swallow heavily. Though the detective wasn’t in uniform, he still carried himself with an air of authority. Even his stare seemed to intimidate the small girl.

  “We’ll talk out in the hall,” I said, heading for the door.

  “Here is better.” Shertz pulled out a chair and sat down. “I’d just as soon not have the whole school listening in.”

  “And I’d just as soon not have you scaring my students half to death,” I whispered.

  Shertz glanced in Wendy’s direction. Her back was to us, but I could see the slight tremor in her shoulders. In the space of a single problem, her strokes had gone from strong to nearly invisible.

  “She looks okay to me.”

  She didn’t to me. “Wendy, could you come here a moment, please?”

  “Yes, Ms. Travis.” She put down her chalk and approached us reluctantly. Rather than look at Detective Shertz, the girl focused her gaze on the ground. Good thing, because now he was frowning, and it didn’t make him look any friendlier.

  “You heard about what happened yesterday, didn’t you?” I asked gently.

  Wendy managed to nod without looking up. “Mr. Hanover told us in the assembly and then my parents talked to me about it last night. They told me not to leave the school building and not to talk to anyone I didn’t know.”

  “Did they tell you that the police are already working hard to find out what happened?”