Principally Dead

Crime Fiction by Margaret Karmazin

Maple Hill Elementary school was closed for the weekend for which Principal Jerry Harper had expressed his gratitude to the school secretary, Michelle Derry.

“Rough week,” Michelle had agreed on her way out. Their most difficult mother, Mrs. Price, had lodged a complaint that her daughter’s fourth grade teacher had referred to gay people which Mrs. Price did not acknowledge to exist and did not want her daughter to either. Mrs. Price apparently did not know that her daughter’s art teacher was gay and it was probably better that she remained ignorant.

Speaking of remaining ignorant, Jerry Harper did not want Michelle nor anyone to know that he was spending the night inside the school. He would have preferred to drive into the city and stay in a hotel, but he’d recently been indulging in his periodic addiction of online gambling and put himself in the red the previous two months. His wife did not know that he’d slipped again but she was already furious about other things, which he supposed she had a right to be, though it was she, he felt, who drove him to doing them.

As it was, he’d catch up on work and enjoy a nice meal before he eventually unrolled his sleeping bag and turned in, being careful not to arouse police suspicion with lights on where they shouldn’t be after school hours. He didn’t want to have to explain himself. He’d bought a thick pastrami sandwich on a hard roll and Mary Morris had brought him some of her homemade brownies, so with a good book on his Kindle, he was all set.

***

Detective Lieutenant Char Perez received the call Monday at 6:40 AM, just as she was biting into her peanut butter toast and now was picking up her sergeant, Maurice Booker. She did not like his first name.

He was a hunk – six foot two, two hundred pounds of solid muscle covered in skin the exact color of a Hershey bar, her continual favorite though not classified as superior chocolate according to her condescending neighbor. His eyes were hazel and his grin slightly off-kilter. And once again, he was single, having finalized his divorce two months before. His Lexus was in the garage.

“We got a body at Maple Hill Elementary,” she said as he climbed into the car. “On the principal’s office floor. Apparently, it’s the principal and was there since Friday. It was, as you know, a hot weekend.”

“Hmmm,” Booker grunted, “and no AC in schools, right?”

“Well, probably in the principal’s office, let’s hope,” Char said.

They pulled into the school parking lot and were soon observing the body, lying on an opened up sleeping bag, head resting on a rolled-up jacket and turned to one side. Vomit had trickled onto the jacket. The face was pale and clammy and the lips purple. Beside him, on the floor, was an open Tupperware container holding five brownies. The victim had brownie crumbs on his shirt. At first look, it appeared that either he’d had a heart attack, stroke or aneurism or had been poisoned by the brownies.

Char motioned to a uniform and said, “Put the lid on the brownies and give them to CSI. When the hell are they getting here?”

“Just pulled up,” the cop said as he peered out the window.

Booker, plastic gloves on, spotted on the desk a wallet, phone, car keys and three pill containers held together by a rubber band. He opened the wallet. “Jerry Harper, age forty-five,” he said. “Twenty-eight Pasture Drive.” He got out his little pad and wrote down the address. Picking up the phone, he found it turned on with no password needed. “Last text was from a Jessica. ‘I need your signature on some stuff.'” Booker flashed down through the contacts. “I’ll go through this later,” he said, slipping it into a plastic bag.

CSI walked in, led by Marty Burdick, the new medical examiner. “So happy that bitch left,” Char whispered to Booker. The former medical examiner had always irritated her with her polished, upper-crust look. She shook Burdick’s hand.

After a quick perusal, Marty, who was only thirty-seven and reminded her of Joseph Gordon-Levitt whom she thought was hot, said, “Well, I can’t really say until I get him on the table but it looks like a drug overdose or poisoning. I’d say he died between eight and midnight Friday. I’ll keep you informed, Char, you know I like to work pretty fast.”

“And I appreciate that more than you know,” she said.

 “Check this out,” she said, handing Marty the pill containers.

He looked them over. “Three pills in each of two of the night segments, the other one empty. He must have planned to stay the weekend and brought enough for three nights.”

“You’ll find out what those pills are for?”

“I recognize two of them now,” Marty said. “One is a statin and one a baby aspirin. He must have had high cholesterol and was taking preventive meds against heart disease. Rachel will find out what the other one is.”

“He definitely planned on staying the weekend then,” Char said.

Booker, who’d been rifling through desk drawers and book shelves held up a plastic bag with what looked like a shirt and underwear in it. “Got a toothbrush in here too and a wash cloth.”

“What time do the kids get here?” Char asked

“By 8:10,” said the school secretary as she walked into the office. “The day starts at 8:20. What’s going on?” And then she saw her boss and stifled a scream.

“They shouldn’t have let you in here,” snapped Char. “Aren’t you early?”

“Wh-what happened?” the secretary said and started to tear up. “Oh my god, did he have a heart attack? Why is he on a sleeping bag?” She stopped, apparently realizing that he must have stayed overnight. “He was only forty-five,” she said.

“We won’t know for sure till the medical examiner performs the autopsy but he suspects that Mr. Harper was drugged. You’ll need to call the superintendent and cancel school for the day.”

The secretary made the call, but buses were already out picking up children. “He said we’ll have to keep them in the auditorium and send them home midday,” she said.

Booker got her name and details down. “Michelle,” said Char, “where were you all weekend? Did you come back to the school at any time?”

“Oh, no,” said Michelle, pulling a tissue from a box on her boss’ desk and patting at her face. “My family and I went to the lake this weekend. We got back last night around seven and I had to run two loads of wash.”

“Any contact with Mr. Harper here?”

“No.”

“Do you know anyone who might have wanted to hurt him? Did he have enemies?”

“Not off hand,” she said. “Well…”

“Yes?” prompted Char.

“I-I think his marriage was in trouble. But Erica would never do anything like this. I mean, she had reasons to be upset with him, but…she’s a normal person. You know, not violent or anything. Has anyone called her?”

“We’re going there next,” Char told her. “What reasons would Erica have to be upset with her husband?”

Michelle flushed. “Well, I really can’t say anything for sure. I mean it’s all just hearsay.”

“Hearsay is fine,” said Char, sliding her eyes to Booker.

“Well,” said the secretary, “Mr. Harper had a bit of a reputation for running around. I don’t know for sure, but they say he had a thing going with Ashley Simon. She teaches fourth grade.”

“Married?” asked Char.

“Yes.”

“Maybe her husband got wind of the affair,” said Booker.

“Oh, I don’t know anything about that,” said Michelle. “I don’t even know if the rumor is true.”

“Anyone else Mr. Harper was rumored to be overly friendly with?”

“Well, they say Mary Morris – she’s fifth grade, they say maybe she had a thing for him. Nothing going there though, I think.”

A man rapped on the office window, dressed in a salmon-colored shirt and purple tie. “This is off limits now,” Booker reminded Michelle.

“Oh, I have to tell Mr. Bradley there what happened since he had a meeting scheduled with Mr. Harper this morning.”

The two cops moved aside as the CSI team took over and were firm with the secretary. “Whatever you do today, Mrs. Derry, it’ll have to be somewhere other than this office.”

***

“Not violent or anything,” Char chuckled when she and Booker were back in the car, referring to Michelle Derry’s remark about Jerry Harper’s wife. “Like that would preclude knocking someone off.”

Booker smiled.

They located 28 Pasture Drive and saw two Subarus in the driveway. It was a modern looking ranch, unlike the other homes on the street.

“I like it,” said Booker, who, after his divorce was renting a townhouse.

“Meh,” said Char, who owned a two-bedroom condo apartment. “My dream is a Craftsman with a nice porch. I hope to God she’s home. This is the worse part of being a cop.”

They knocked and a short-haired brunette wearing a corporate looking suit answered.

“Mrs. Harper? I’m afraid we have some bad news.”

***

The medical examiner called that afternoon. “Char,” he said, “the actual toxicology report will take weeks, but you know we have that new performance liquid chromatograph, thanks to Mayor Lipski, and I can say that your man died from an overdose of fentanyl. He did have two arteries that would eventually need stents, but that’s not what killed him. The heart itself was fine. No sign of stroke. It was fentanyl, like a kid dying in a back alley.”

Char was silent for a long moment, staring at Booker. “Weird,” she said. “Who laces brownies with fentanyl?”

“Can’t say it was the brownies or how it was delivered,” said Marty. “Not my unit.”

It was way past lunch time, so Char suggested to Booker, “The diner? Or that new fusion place?”

“Diner,” he said. “I need egg protein.”

“And then Rachel Voigt at CSI. We need to know about those brownies.”

They did not discuss the case while eating, but rather an old one in which a man in his eighties had poisoned four cats belonging to his girlfriend and then the girlfriend shot the old man.

Booker had a cat named Sophie. “I could definitely sympathize with the perp,” he said, followed by, “I cook eggs better than this.”

                                                            ***

“Everything is preliminary,” said Rachel, their forensic toxicologist. “You’re lucky we’re having a lull in poisonings lately.” She laughed. “But there’s no evidence of the brownies being laced with anything. I wouldn’t take a big bite out of them right now, but probably could safely do a tiny one.” She called to someone in the background. “Jared, find anything at all in those yet?”

Char heard Jared’s voice in the background. “Nada,” he said.

Hanging up, Char motioned to Booker who was hard at it on his computer. They were doing “paper work” before heading back out to question Mrs. Harper who had agreed to a five o’clock meeting.

“Not the brownies,” Char told him.

“Did forensics find anything else in his pockets?” Booker asked. “What about those pills?”

She picked her phone back up and redialed Rachel. “Sorry,” Char said, “but was there anything else in his pockets and what were the pills?”

“Jared’s got that.” Jared got on Rachel’s phone. “There was a tin of Altoids, half gone, three quarters and a band-aid. You guys got the wallet and other stuff. The blue pill is ramipril 20 mg. Blood pressure. We’re checking it now.”

Char and Booker arrived at the Harper residence at 3:55. The place was decorated in the currently hip all neutral color scheme with bare wood floors and Char hated it on sight. She was partial to Boho colors and rugs. She knew that Booker dug color himself and wasn’t afraid to cover his gray sofa with a wild tribal patchwork throw and Kilim pillows. They all sat down, Char and Booker on her taupe sectional and Erica Harper on a matching taupe chair.

“Where are the kids?” Char asked.

“They didn’t go to school today, of course,” said Erica. “They’re in their rooms.”

“We’ll want to talk to them,” Char said. She paused. “Mrs. Harper, we want to extend our sympathies. We know this must be hell for you.”

Dry eyed, Erica nodded.

“Do you know of anyone who might have wanted to harm your husband. It appears he was poisoned.”

“What?” Erica said, leaning forward. “Poisoned how?”

“We don’t know the delivery source yet,” said Char, “but the drug was fentanyl.”

“Fentanyl?” said Erica with a perplexed expression. “Isn’t that the thing drug addicts die from? Like stuff they buy from a street dealer?”

“That’s the one,” said Char.

“Well, I don’t understand. Jerry didn’t use street drugs.”

“No weed?” said Booker.

Erica hesitated. “Well, once in a while,” she said. “But no pills.”

“Back to the question,” said Char. “Who would want to harm your husband?”

“I-I have no idea.”

“He had no enemies then?”

Erica looked like she was coming to a boil and trying to contain it. “Well…”  Long hesitation and then she said, “He was a cheater. We were getting a divorce. I just told him last week. He tried to hold me off, claiming it wouldn’t look good for his position, though frankly, I can’t imagine anyone caring. Teachers and principals get divorced all the time, what with all the hanky-panky going on. Apparently, any school is like that.”

“You were never a teacher?” asked Char. “How did you meet your husband.”

“I’m in human resources,” Erica said. “For Tabor and Myers. I met my husband at a party. That was a long time ago and since then, I’ve regretted it. Well, not having the kids, I don’t regret that.”

“Was your husband cheating on you at present?” Booker said.

Erica sighed. “Of course, he was. He always had something going. I didn’t learn that until a couple years ago. How stupid I was.”

“Who was he having a relationship with recently?” asked Char.

“They told me it was Ashley Simon. Fourth grade teacher. The last one was Izzy Perez, third grade. He usually sticks to his own faculty harem, though there was a brief fling with Iona Flubacher from administration. According to the district grapevine, that one didn’t last long.”

“Busy man,” said Char. “Where were you on Friday night?”

“Home here with the kids,” Erica said.

“Any way to prove that?”

“The neighbor was here. Alicia Vine, across the street.”

Booker made a note to have a uniform check on that.

 “So, Mrs. Harper, “who do you think might have wanted to kill your husband? Assuming he was murdered and didn’t take some recreational drug he’d bought.”

“Well, if you’re thinking it’s me, you can forget that idea. I have a divorce lawyer and she’s already drawn up a settlement proposal, which I was planning to present to Jerry this coming weekend. All I wanted was to make a clean break and end this mess.”

Char glanced at Booker who was busy writing something down. “Mrs. Harper, would you mind if I spoke to the children?”

The woman hesitated. “Well, I suppose so. Please don’t upset Jessica. She, uh, well…she has some mental issues. She’s been showing symptoms of being bipolar. She’s currently being evaluated. Jerry’s mother had it.”

“And your son?”

“Bryan is in shock.”

“We can wait to talk to them, Mrs. Harper.”

Erica looked grateful.

“One more thing,” said Char. “Did your husband take any kind of pain pills?”

“Just an Aleve now and then when he played volleyball at the school.”

“What other meds did he take?”

“A statin. Lipitor, I believe. Oh, and a blood pressure pill. I don’t remember the name of it; I think it was a blue capsule if that’s any help. He kept his pills in one of those weekly thingies, you know, a box for every day. It’s usually on the kitchen counter.”

 Three of the days were missing and he’d not refilled the others for the coming week. “I hope toxicology hurries up with the pills,” Booker said.

***

Next morning, Booker had his car back and met Char in her office. “I assume we’re questioning the lovers,” he said.

“And the gossips,” said Char. “Thank the Universe for gossips.”

Once again, they pulled into the school parking lot and sauntered into the make-shift office. The real office had been carefully gone over. They located Michelle Derry and Char told her, “We need to speak with Ashley Simon Izzy Perez and who else again, Michelle?”

“Mary Morris,” said Michelle. “And, I’d suggest the art teacher, Dario Bradley. He’s a fountain of information.”

“We do love a fountain,” said Char and she and Booker headed down the hall to what usually served as the speech therapist’s room for their interrogations.

The first to be called in was Ashley Simon. Ashley was a busty, petite blonde, who kept flipping her head to toss her long hair out of her eyes. She wore a large diamond and wedding ring and another diamond on a gold chain around her neck.

“Oh, this is just horrible, horrible!” she said.

Booker cut to the chase. “You were in a sexual relationship with the deceased?”

Ashley blushed prettily. “Oh, I don’t think…I mean, where did you hear that?”

“Not a good idea to lie to the police, Mrs. Simon” said Char brusquely.

“Oh, oh…” stammered Ashley, “I-I just thought that has nothing to do with what happened. I mean Mr. Harper, I mean Jerry and I aren’t, well we weren’t doing that anymore. We had to stop.”

“Because your husband found out?” said Char.

Ashley lowered her head. “Sort of.”

“Did he give you an ultimatum?”

She nodded. “I-I I guess I was just bored; I don’t know. And my husband isn’t perfect in that area. In the past.”

Char took a deep breath. “Is there any possibility that your husband – what’s his name?”

“Kyle,” Ashley said.

“That Kyle might have wanted to get even, say, with Jerry Harper?”

“You mean kill him? Oh my god, no. Oh no, no. Kyle is a very peaceful person. He’s kind of, what you might call ‘New Agey.’ He’s open sometimes to seeing other people, but he didn’t think what was going on was moral from the viewpoint of my job and relationship with the students. You know what I mean?”

“Ashley, where were you and where was Kyle on Friday night?”

“Oh,” she said, startled. “You mean you want our alibis?”

“Exactly,” said Char.

“Well, we were in the ER, actually.”

“The ER? Where and why?”

“Wilson Memorial. Kyle’s mother fell in the bathroom and broke her wrist. She kind of drinks, if you know what I mean. Not all the time but when she does it can get a little weird. Anyway, we were there pretty much all night and the next day we had to get someone to come in and watch her at home. It was a terrible weekend.”

“Your mother-in-law’s name?” said Booker, pad open.

“Kathy Hanover. She got remarried, that’s why her name isn’t Kramer. Then she got divorced again.”

“Well, thank you, Ashley. If we need to talk with you more, we’ll be in touch.”

Char rolled her eyes when Ashley had gone. “How did she ever graduate from college?”

Next was Izzy Perez, a short, athletic-looking woman with big brown eyes and dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. She sat down rather sullenly. “So…Jerry’s dead,” she said.

“You don’t sound upset about it,” said Booker.

Izzy shrugged.

“We heard that you and he had a thing going sometime back,” said Char.

Izzy shrugged again.

“Izzy, it’s best for you if you just tell us straight out. You don’t want us to have to dig it out.”

Izzy shifted in her chair and, with her little chin in the air, said, “My husband cheated on me once. I haven’t gotten over it. Can’t help it. You don’t know what that does to your self-esteem.”

“Oh, but I do,” said Char. “I was married once.”

Booker shot her an astonished look, which she ignored.

“I guess I was feeling unwanted or something for like two years, no matter how much Joe tried to make me feel loved again. And then Jerry singled me out and we started talking after school in his office and then we went to a bar out of town, and eventually…”

“So, how did it end?” said Char.

“Joe found out and maybe threatened him, I don’t know, but Jerry got reserved all of a sudden and said we’d better end it, better for everyone concerned. I was pissed. It’s not like I didn’t agree with him, but he was the one who started it and then ends up all holier-than-thou, if you know what I mean.”

“Did you want to kill him?” said Char.

Izzy gave her a sarcastic look and said, “Well, wouldn’t you? But I got over it and good riddance. Joe and I went to counseling and things are pretty good. We have two kids and we have to think of them, after all.”

“Okay, Izzy,” said Char, “I have to ask. What were you doing on Friday evening after school and say, up to midnight?”

“Oh, you still think I killed him? Interesting. I was at the gym with Joe. We’re taking the kids to karate lessons.”

“What gym and what time”

“Pump It Up” in that little mall on Rt.11. Where the UPS store is. The class starts at six and everybody’s out by eight. Then we took them for ice cream at that place a couple stores down. We were home by probably nine-fifteen.”

“Did anyone go out after that?

“No. Joe got the runs and he was pretty busy in the bathroom. Maybe that ice cream was funny. I think he’s lactose intolerant though but he won’t admit it.”

“Did you make or receive any calls?”

Izzy was quiet for a moment. “Yeah, I called my sister. We talked for a while. Then Joe and I watched Dexter. We’re rewatching it from the beginning.”

Booker took down Izzy’s home address and cellphone number.

After she was dismissed, Char called one of the uniforms she had a fondness for and asked him to check out Izzy’s alibi, the karate class, the ice cream store, etc. “See if any of their neighbors remember if they were home after nine-fifteen. Also check this cell number for calls after nine the same night.” She gave him the number.

“Wanna break,” she asked Booker, “or keep going?”

“Keep going,” he said. “Dario Bradley next.”

Dario was about five and a half feet tall and round as a ball. He looked like he considered life one continuous party. He must have been a fun art teacher.

“Dario, do you have any idea at all why someone might want to kill Jerry Harper?” asked Char.

“He was killed, was he? Well, I guessed that, being that you cops are here questioning people.”

“So, do you, Dario?”

“Well, he was a philanderer, there was that.”

“So, we’ve learned,” said Cher. “Maybe you can add to our knowledge?”

Dario’s blue eyes widened. “Well, he certainly wasn’t interested in philandering with me!” He laughed.

“Aside,” said Booker, “from Ashley and Izzy, were there others in the school here?”

“Well, Mary Morris certainly wouldn’t have been averse to his attentions, but he wasn’t interested in dipping into that particular pool.”

“Mary Morris?”

“Fifth grade. Unmarried. What in former times might have been called an ‘old maid.'” Dario chuckled.

Char said, “Someone else mentioned that she was more than interested in the principal.”

His eyes lit up. “Well, everyone kind of knows that. She’s thrown herself at him, but he never took the bait. I think he prefers married women – probably easier to get rid of when you’re done. You can always claim you don’t want to wreck their marriage or that you don’t want to risk the husband coming after you.”

Booker nodded and Char shot him a look.

Dario went on. “The weird thing is, Mary is good friends with Jerry’s wife.”

“What?” said Char.

“Yeah, bosom buddies.”

“Does Mrs. Harper know that Mary has a thing for her husband?”

Dario made an exaggerated shrug.

“Did you like Jerry Harper?” Char asked.

“He was okay as a boss. As a person? So-so. I thought he was something of a manipulator.”

“What do you mean?”

“Playing with people to get what he wanted. Which was usually sex.”

Mary was called to the “interrogation room.” She was tall, flat chested and wide hipped. Curly dark hair to her shoulders. There was something forbidding about her expression. Her eyes looked a little red.

“You’re upset about Mr. Harper,” said Char.

She waved her hand as if that was a really stupid question.

“Do you have any idea who might want to bring about his demise?”

“It was murder then?” Mary said.

“The probability is high. Unless he used street drugs for pleasure.”

Her hazel eyes widened. “I don’t know what he took for pleasure. Really, how would I?”

“You knew him relatively well, we heard,” prompted Char. “Did you know he was staying overnight in the school this past weekend?”

Mary looked a bit rattled. “Well, maybe. I gave him some brownies. I’d made them for the teachers’ lounge but everyone’s on a diet, it seems.”

“So, the brownies were from you. You were pretty close to the family, we heard.”

“I’d say so, yes. I’m very good friends with his wife. You could say I’m a family friend.”

“Since you know them so well, tell us a bit about their family dynamics. I know that Erica is aware of her husband’s extracurricular activities. How does that play out exactly?”

“Oh!” said Mary, apparently taken off guard. “Um, well, she suspected, let’s say.”

“Oh, I think you can safely assume that she knew, Mary,” said Char.

 Mary seemed to think this over.

“She didn’t talk to you about it?”

“She might have made a remark here and there but I didn’t latch onto it.”

“Why didn’t you latch onto it?”

“Well, I-I didn’t want to hurt her.”

Char nodded. “How were the family dynamics? How did the kids get along with their father?”

“Bryan loved his dad. I mean Jessica too, I guess, but he and Bryan were close. Sometimes they went away on weekends, just the two of them, fishing or something.”

“And Jessica?”

“There were problems there. Like the thing about her wanting to go to Bucknell next year because her best friend is going there but Jerry said they couldn’t afford it, not with having to pay for Bryan’s education too. He was insisting on her going to a state school like Penn State and there were a lot of tantrums. Jessica’s been difficult the past couple years. They were having her tested; it might still be going on. I think her doctors suspect she’s bipolar or maybe it’s just ADHD. She’s very angry all the time, extremely moody. I worry that she might be using.”

“What makes you think that?”

Mary shrugged a little. “Everybody knows that teens are moody and horrible, but this goes further. I think Erica was sometimes a little afraid of her.”

“Why would you think she’s been using?”

 “I’m not an expert, but she just acts weird. And her pupils are dilated sometimes.”

“Did you say anything to Erica?”

“I did, once,” said Mary. “But she didn’t want to hear it.”

“One more thing,” said Char. “Were you interested romantically in Jerry Harper?”

Several expressions flashed across Mary’s face. “Jerry?” She laughed. “That’s amusing. You can’t imagine how far from my type he is.”

***

“Booker,” Char said to him as he was again hard at his computer. They’d come back to the office to consolidate information. “I think another chat with Erica Harper is in order. Also, with the kids. She can see again us this evening. Are you busy tonight? A hot date, maybe?”

“Only with my cat,” he said.

Char’s phone buzzed. It was Jared from CSI. “There was a trace of fentanyl in the empty compartment of Friday’s pill box. Probably it had stuck to the outside off the capsule when the perp filled it and then fell into the compartment.”

“So,” said Char, “Friday’s dose was the one.”

“Looks that way,” said Jared.

***

The Harper kids were sitting at their dining table when Erica answered the door. She pulled up an extra chair to accommodate them all. The boy, age fifteen, had a face bloated from crying. The girl was stony-faced. Erica looked exhausted.

“Just a few questions,” Char said to the group while Booker flipped open his leather-bound pad. “Would either of you know if your dad ever took strange pills?”

Both of them sat up straight with different expressions on their faces, the boy perplexed and the girl wary. “I just wondered,” Char said, “because kids often notice things that adults miss. Like your mom is probably super busy all the time and might not be as eagle-eyed as you guys.”

Bryan shook his head. “He took his pills at night,” he said. “One was blue.”

“Something to do with his blood pressure,” said Jessica.

Erica spoke up. “They wouldn’t really notice anything about Jerry’s meds. Why would they?”

“Did you?” asked Char.

“Me? No, he took care of that himself. He went to the doctor by himself. He wasn’t involved in whatever medications I take either.”

“What medications do you take?” asked Char.

“A med for my bones and an antidepressant,” snapped Erica. “I don’t see what that has to do with anything.

“Did you get along well with your dad?” Char asked Jessica.

The girl shrugged. “I guess,” she said.

“Was he a good dad?”

Again, she shrugged.

“He wasn’t? You weren’t entirely happy with him? Tell me about that.”

Erica butt in. “What are you driving at? They were father and daughter. They got along sometimes and other times not. Like normal.“

Ignoring Erica, Char aske Jessica, “What did you like about your dad?”  

Jessica shrugged. “I don’t know, he was funny sometimes.”

“And what didn’t you like about him?”

Jessica shot a look at her mother. “He cheated on my mom,” she said.

“Anything else?”

Jessica didn’t answer.

“Something about not going to the college you want?”

Jessica shot her a sharp look. “How do you know about that?” she snapped.

***

The next morning, Char said to Booker, “we’re going to the high school. A little talk with some teachers might be in order. I’m interested in this drug thing.”

Emily Johnson, the guidance counselor, sent the student she’d been working with back to his classroom and motioned for Char and Booker to come in. They flashed their badges and Ms. Johnson said “Oh!” as she did a double take at Booker who could outdo any current film star in the looks department.

The cops sat down, Booker not seeming to have noticed, and Char said, “We need to know everything you know about Jessica Harper.”

“You mean the daughter of Jerry Harper, the principal found dead in at Maple Hill?”

“That’s the one,” said Char.

Ms. Johnson appeared a bit uncomfortable but she slid over to her laptop and clacked away for a moment. “I’ve brought her up,” she said.

“Where did she hope to go to college? I’m assuming her grades are decent,” said Char.

“They’re good,” said the counselor, “but there are problems. She’s seeing a psychiatrist. She’s has hopes to apply to Bucknell, but tuition there is $64,800 a year. That’s not counting over $17,000 room and board if you live on campus. That’s for one year and that’s this year. In addition, your GPS needs to be 3.65. Hers, right now, is 3.3 and she’s been erratic this year so far. Her father apparently told her that he’d only pay for a state school. Compare to attending Penn State at around $36,000. Other state schools less. Jessica would be better off attending a state school, but there’s been conflict over this.”

“What’s her mother’s attitude in the matter?”

“I get the feeling,” said the counselor, “that the mother would find Jessica the money somehow to do as she wants, while Mr. Harper was adamantly against that. They have a son, you know, and he has to be taken into consideration.”

“What about scholarships?”

“So far, not much going on there. As I said, there’ve been some mental health issues with Jessica.”

“Can you name any of Jessica’s closest friends? Particularly the one going to Bucknell?”

“That’s Madison Brighton.” Emily clacked on her keyboard again. “She’s in Chemistry right now, room 201.”

 Madison seemed like a gentle sort of person, very unlike Jessica.

“You understand that you are talking with the police now, Madison. It is imperative that you tell us the truth and hold nothing back.”

The girl nodded and swallowed.

Does Jessica use recreational drugs?”

“Um, not for recreation.”

“What do you mean by that?”

She looked like she wished she was anywhere else. “She takes Adderall sometimes.”

“What for and where does she get it?”

Madison looked really wary now. “I-I guess to concentrate on her work better. Once in a while she takes a benzo to calm down. She buys it from some kid.”

“Is this kid a student here?”

Madison sighed. “No…he used to be but not now.”

“Do you know his name?”

Now she was really nervous.

“He’ll never know who told us,” Char assured her.

Madison was silent for a long moment and said, “Brady Bowers.”

It wasn’t hard to find the kid. He lived three blocks from the school and attended the community college. Booker turned on his scary cop persona and got out of him that he sometimes sold Jessica pills.

“What kind of pills?” Booker demanded.

The kid was shaking in his boots. “Um, um, Adderall and once in a while a downer. She’s not a huge user.”

“Have you had situations with fentanyl?” Probably a useless question.

“Nothing I’ve heard about,” Brady said.

“Why do you do this?” Booker asked.

“If I don’t, my mother and I will get evicted. End of story. I have to support her and pay for my education.”

Booker turned and he and Char walked away.

They pulled up to the Harper house early that evening but sat in the car for a few minutes. “Adderall wouldn’t kill him,” Char said. “And the occasional Benzo? Unless it was laced with fentanyl but how would Jessica know it was in order to use it to kill him? And would she even want to?”

The family had been sitting around the dining table when Char and Booker arrived. Erica looked exhausted and Bryan was silent. After some fruitless questioning, they got to Jessica.

“Jessica, were you fighting with your dad?” Char asked.

She started to cry. “I got so mad at him,” she said. “It was over the Bucknell thing. I was so mean. And now he’s dead.”

Bryan reached over and laid a hand on her arm.

Back in the car, Char was quiet. Finally, Booker spoke up. “So, we’re not thinking Jessica then?”

Char sighed and shook her head.

“Maybe he owed money to someone. Like a bookie,” suggested Booker.

“Did you ever hear of a bookie killing a customer by putting fentanyl in their blood pressure pills?”

Booker was silent for a moment and then said, “Mary Morris was in his office the night he was staying over. She said she brought the brownies.”

“She didn’t say she did it at night. She could have done it during the school day.”

Char picked up her phone and called the school secretary. “Michelle,” she said, “when you left Jerry Harper Friday, did he already have the container of brownies?”

“Those brownies that were on the floor next to his body?” Michelle said.

“Yeah, those.”

“I don’t recall seeing them anywhere,” she said. “That was the first time I saw them.”

Char hung up and said, “Let’s talk to the school janitor.”

Another trip to the school and they found the man with his cleaning crew finishing up for the night. “Did you happen to notice on Friday night,” Char said, “If Mary Morris was still in the school after hours?”

The janitor was in his fifties but still quite good-looking and he knew it. She could see that just by the way he stood. “Oh yeah, she was here,” he said. “Last one to leave. Well, except for poor Mr. Harper.”

“Thank you,” Char said and looked at Booker.

She called Rachel in CSI again. “I must be losing it,” she said. “Did you get any good prints from the pill box?”

“Jerry Harper’s,” Rachel said, “and half of someone else’s. They must not have wiped it thoroughly enough. Or didn’t think they’d need to.”

“Hold onto that print.”

Mary looked surprised to see them when she opened her door. Her house was small with a carefully tended yard and porch with pots of colorful zinnias beside the door. “May we come in?” said Char and Mary silently held the door open to let them pass.

“I think you probably know why we’re here,” Char said. Did she expect the woman to deny everything? This would be interesting.

Mary stood there silently.

“Why did you do it?” Char said. “Because he rejected your advances? Why would you even want him, knowing his record in that area?”

Mary snorted. “Want him? I never wanted him. I know everyone thought that. It’s funny, actually.”

“Is it?” said Char. “Why don’t you explain that?”

Mary sighed. “It’s Erica I love. Amazing how that never crosses anyone’s mind. Did they ever see me date a man? You’d think they would have put two and two together.”

Booker frowned. “Is Erica gay?”

Mary shook her head. “Possibly open to being bisexual. I think she experimented in college. But I’ll never find out now, will I?”

“So, you killed him to clear the path for yourself without knowing what she’d want?” said Char.

No comment, and then Char took a stab. “They have a fingerprint on the pillbox,” she said.

That opened the floodgate. “Erica would never have gone through with that divorce. This happened two times before and it always died back down. He was making her life pure hell. I had to do something. It would have never ended!”

“Where on earth did you get the fentanyl?”

“My father is a pharmacist. He owns Morris Family Pharmacy in Birchville. Sometimes I help out on weekends. Please don’t drag him into this. He had nothing to do with it, he knows nothing.”

“So, when did you put it in the blue capsule? Jerry was out of the office or something?”

Mary smiled but said nothing.

***

It was late by the time they booked her and finished up and surprisingly, Booker was up for a trip to the diner. “You’re not ordering eggs again?” she said as they settled into their seats.

“Egg protein is excellent for maintaining muscle mass. You should start now in middle age.”

“Middle age?” shrieked Char. “Don’t make me demote you! I’m thirty-eight! And you’re what? Thirty-six?”

Booker sipped his iced water. “And I admit I’m middle-aged.”

Char rolled her eyes. “Speak for yourself.”

“I never knew you were married before,” he said.

---

Bio: Margaret Karmazin’s credits include stories published in literary and SF magazines, including Rosebud, Chrysalis Reader, North Atlantic Review, Mobius, Confrontation, Pennsylvania Review, The Speculative Edge, Aphelion, AnotherRealm, Tough and The Worlds Within. Her stories in The MacGuffin, Eureka Literary Magazine, Licking River Review and Mobius were nominated for Pushcart awards.

Cover Photo from the Author

Follow Us On:

Looking for a book to read? Try our Bookstore, or True Crime Library

Support The Yard through Patreon