1 Catered to Death (24 page)

Chapter Twenty-One

“I think this might be a seriously dangerous thing to do,” Steve announced.

I looked up from the sheet cake I was cutting into two-inch squares at the table in the staff lounge at Eden Academy. “It is not,” I calmly disagreed. “It really makes beautiful sense. I feel terrible about what happened at the last meal I catered here, so I’m going to make up for it today. Although
not
,” I added, “with anything fancy since I know we’re never going to get paid for this one. All they’re getting this time is a plain vanilla cake and punch. Not la de da at all. Look, honey, there’s just no way we can get Claudine to talk to either of us and Simpson refuses to take any of my calls. We have to do something drastic.”

“How do you know any of them will show up?”

“Are you kidding me? These people would go to a parade in a blizzard if it meant there was a chance of scoring a free piece of bubble gum. I invited Sylvia Ubermann too.”

“And she said she’d be here?”

I nodded. “Yes, she did. She seemed a touch surprised to get the invitation but she said she’d come.”

“So just what are you going to do when they all show up? Play a fast game of Truth or Dare?”

I straightened up. “Tyler!” I called. “It’s time to fill Dad in on the rest of our surprise!”

I watched as Steve’s mouth dropped open when a young man dressed in a conservative grey suit and sporting a short, neat haircut came into the room. After half a second of gaping, he realized that it was his son. “Tyler?”

“How do I look?”

“Actually very presentable,” Steve said.

“Tyler’s going to tell the staff that he’s from the Minneapolis
Star-Tribune
,” I told Steve. “He’s going to say that he’s writing a story about Frank Ubermann. He’ll ask each person what they were doing when Frank was killed. I’m thinking it should be pretty obvious who the murderer is by the way he or she reacts to Tyler.”

“And you think the murderer will jump up and confess?”

“Well, no, but they might run out of the room and that’s a pretty good confession in my book. Now you’d better take off before Jack sees you. We don’t want to tip our hand before we have to.”

Steve hesitated. “I don’t feel right leaving the two of you here alone.”

“Then wait in the car,” I instructed. “We’ll be fine, right, Tyler?”

“Right. It’s fine, Dad. I’ll protect Mom.”

I watched as Steve made his way down the hallway, reluctance clear in every step he took. I wasn’t sure who was going to be more relieved once this whole ordeal was over—Steve or me. “Everything’s set. Now we just have to wait for all of them to get here.”

“So did you put truth serum in the punch you made?” Tyler asked jokingly. “That might speed the whole process up.”

“I’m counting on social pressure,” I said.

“I don’t get it.”

“Think about it, sweetie: they’re in a group of their peers. Everyone is considered a suspect but only one of them is guilty. It makes sense that the group pressure is going to make the guilty party crack.”

“Maybe in some old movie on TCM but not in real life.”

“Well, let’s hope it works because I’m tapped out on ideas.” I stopped talking and tilted my head toward the door. “Here they come. Start acting like a journalist.”

“Do you think Junebug will recognize me?”

“Honey, I’m your mom and I barely recognize you.”

Tyler looked doubtful. “I thought you had a better plan that that, Mom,” he whispered as the door of the teachers’ lounge opened.

“It will work!” I hissed back. “Remember: you work for the
Star-Tribune.”

“DeeDee!” Jack Mulholland swept into the room. “To what do we owe the honor of your presence this time?”

“Have a seat and I’ll tell you as soon as everyone gets here,” I promised. “Help yourself to cake.”

“I’ll do that,” Jack said as he deftly scooped four squares of cake onto a paper plate and grabbed a plastic spork. “And who is this young man?”

“Let’s wait until everyone’s here,” I said.

It didn’t take long for the room to fill with the rest of the staff. I watched with pleasure when Stuart, the custodian; Maxi, the bus driver; and Ruth Sparrow, the ill-treated receptionist, joined the group, watching with annoyance how Claudine moved her chair away from Maxi when Maxi sat down next to her, acting as if being an hourly employee was contagious. Sylvia Ubermann was the last one to arrive. She came in breathless and sat down next to Junebug without saying a word to anyone.

“Well, DeeDee,” Claudine said as soon as the entire staff plus Sylvia was in the room, “I’m not sure what this is all about but perhaps you can tell us. I hope this isn’t some pathetic ploy to get your paycheck. Monica told you that you’d get paid eventually.”

I noted with interest how Claudine seemed to have taken over the leadership role of the school. She was even sitting in the same spot Frank had occupied on the fateful day he was shot. “No, this has nothing to do with the fact that I’m still waiting to get paid,” I said, “although I’m hoping to receive a check from the school soon.”

“You and everyone else in this room,” Simpson muttered.

“I wanted to somehow make up to all of you what happened at Junebug’s party. That’s why I brought cake and punch in today. I’ve also brought my…a relative of mine. Tyler is a journalist and he’s doing a story on Frank Ubermann’s death for a major newspaper.”

“What major newspaper?” the blonde student teacher asked. Emily. Her name was Emily. Funny how I was never able to remember that.

“The Minneapolis
Star-Tribune,
” Tyler replied.
 
“I’m an intern and I’m trying to get a full-time job lined up. Doing an in-depth story on a murder like this one would really help me out.”

“I think that’s rather disgusting, using us to further your own career,” Claudine told him, turning her pert nose up as if Tyler had brought a bad smell into the room.

Tyler shrugged. “Hey, no one wants to do it but everyone wants to know what’s going on, don’t they?”

“Oh, give the kid a break,” Simpson said sounding a little weary. “I say we each have a piece of cake and let Clark Kent here ask a couple of questions. Who could it hurt?”

“It could hurt all of us, Simpson! Why should we answer anyone’s questions about Frank’s death?”

“I’d also like to know about Monica Webber’s murder,” Tyler interjected. “They both occurred on school grounds.”

“We know that,” Ruth told him. “We were all here.”

“Exactly my point,” Tyler said. “How often do two murders happen in the same place within a week? One of you has to know more than you’re telling the police.”

“If we do, why would we tell you what we know?” Maxi asked.

“Because together we might be able to crack this case.”

“Let’s get this over with,” Jack Mulholland said. “I’ve got a piece in the kiln that I need to get back to. Go ahead, Tyler, ask away. Don’t expect the truth from any of us, but feel free to ask.”

“Great!” Tyler said enthusiastically. “I got a lot of background stuff from Mo—from DeeDee, so I really just have one very basic question for each of you: did any of you murder Frank Ubermann and Monica Webber?”

The room fell into instant bedlam as everyone began talking at once. “Is he insane?” Claudine asked Jack. “Who the hell does that kid think he is?” Emily demanded. “What kind of question is that?” Ruth spluttered to Stuart.

“A pretty obvious one, I’d say,” Tyler said proudly.

“A pretty stupid one,
I’d
say,” Simpson replied.

Tyler shrugged again. “Who wants to go first?”

Jack leaned back in his chair and stood up, a smug smile spreading across his wide face. “Well, you can count me out of your game, little boy. Emily and I are each other’s alibi for the time when Frank was offed and Claudine can vouch for us, can’t you, old girl?”

Claudine gave Jack a laser look through narrowed eyes that could have cut a piece of marble in half. “Yes, I can. I walked in on the two of them having the most disgusting monkey sex on Emily’s desk—a desk that I might add doesn’t belong to her but belongs to Eden Academy—right after the luncheon last Friday. I was so nauseated by the sight of Jack’s naked and extremely hairy backside that I spent the next half an hour in the bathroom dry heaving.”

“See?” Jack said triumphantly. “Emily and I are in the clear.”

“Well,
I
didn’t do it!” Simpson said. “I was in Ruth’s office ordering supplies.”

“He was,” Ruth said. “He wanted an exact shade of aqua copy paper that I couldn’t find for the life of me although I know we ordered a case of it last year. We were both in my supply closet when we heard Claudine come running up the steps and then we heard Monica screaming that Frank had been killed.”

Everyone’s eyes swung to focus on Claudine. She sat up erectly. “Don’t look at me,” she ordered. She began to cry. “I told you I was in the bathroom but you have to know that I could never have hurt that man. I loved him! He was going to leave that wife of his and marry me! I never would have killed him.”

“That’s a lie!” Sylvia Ubermann almost leaped out of her seat and across the table. “Frank was never going to marry you!” She picked up a piece of cake and flung it at Claudine. “You’re nothing but a dried up old tramp—my husband was just
playing
with you! He’d never marry you!”

The cake hit Claudine on her forehead and crumbled down her blouse. “Why, you horrible old bag!” Claudine picked up another piece of cake and hurled it at Sylvia. “Frank was this close to walking out on you—you were holding him back! He despised being married to you! You couldn’t give him children or good sex or anything but money!”

“Liar!” Sylvia screamed. “Frank loved me!” She picked up another piece of cake and threw it at Claudine. Missing by a good three feet, it hit Ruth squarely in the middle of her forehead.

“Mom, this isn’t working,” Tyler whispered.

I surveyed the Eden Academy staff sorrowfully. It certainly wasn’t working. Simpson picked up a piece of cake and tossed it at Junebug who was quietly nibbling on her own slice. Without missing a beat, Junebug reached over and threw the remainder of the cake in Simpson’s face. “Why you dinosaur!” Simpson screamed. “Do you have any idea of how much it’s going to cost to get this shirt dry cleaned?”

“Next time, buy something cheaper,” Junebug advised. “You never know what’s going to hit you around this place.”

I gestured for Tyler to follow me and we tiptoed out of the room. “I’m glad I brought paper plates and cups,” I remarked.

“What are you going to do now?” Tyler asked.

I sighed. “No clue but I don’t think now that I’ll ever get paid for my very first catering job.”

Tyler patted my arm clumsily. “Don’t worry, Mom. There will be other jobs.”

“What happened?” Steve asked from the foyer where he’d been waiting.

“Not much. No one confessed and the teachers started one hell of a food fight,” Tyler reported. “There’s cake everywhere. What a bunch of weirdos.”

I felt like I might burst into tears. “It didn’t turn out at all like I hoped,” I told Steve sadly.

“Come on. Let’s go home and regroup,” Steve suggested. “DeeDee, maybe you need to just forget about getting paid and be happy that no one’s accusing you of murder.”

“And that you didn’t get whacked with a piece of cake,” Tyler agreed.

“Maybe you’re right,” I said, “but I’d still like to know who killed Frank Ubermann.”

We reached the car when I suddenly remembered that I’d left my purse hanging on a hook in Ruth’s office. “I’ll be right back,” I said. “I left my purse inside.”

“Want me to get it?” Steve offered.

“No, I’ll do it. I know just where it is.” Hurrying back through the front door, I could hear the teachers still screaming at each other down the hall. Ruth’s office was empty. She was probably still down at the free for all happening in the staff lounge, hopefully getting a little revenge for the way the rest of the staff treated her most of the time.

After getting my purse, I went back into the hallway when something caught my eye. Pausing, I squinted at an open classroom door where the rotund figure of Maxi was immediately recognizable. I hesitated. It was probably nothing but my curiosity wouldn’t allow me to leave without checking out what Maxi was up to. It would just take a second or two. Tiptoeing down the hallway, my sneakers didn’t make a sound on the tile floor.