Sweetest in the Gale - Olivia Dade Page 0,58
ran to the bathroom and doused his head in the sink, then cut off the burned parts so the police wouldn’t be suspicious. He probably thought the whole house would burn down, concealing the evidence, but it didn’t. The bathroom was almost untouched, so the hair remained.”
“Precisely.” She swiveled back and forth in her chair, eyeing him with open approval. “You’re a quick study. What do you want as your reward?”
“I have some ideas.” They involved privacy. A quiet bedroom. A soft mattress. Her plump thighs cradling his hips and his name gasped through her parted, swollen lips. “But first, I want to earn another.”
“Another reward?” Her brow crinkled. “I don’t understand.”
“I think I’ve explained Mildred Krackel’s disappearance as well.” He held up two fingers. “Two cases, two rewards.”
She only looked more confused. “But that’s not a mystery.”
“It was to me.”
“Simon…” Her snort made her breasts jiggle in an entirely distracting way. “You need to gossip more.”
Well, that was somewhat dampening. Still, he persevered. “Okay, so here’s what I think happened: Mildred didn’t simply retire due to old age. There was foul play involved.”
“Foul play?” Poppy made a sort of choking sound. “In—in a sense, I suppose that’s true.”
“Let me explain the likely sequence of events.” He glanced at his notes, then nodded to himself. “Mildred made enemies. Lots of them.”
“Also true.” Fingers interlaced, Poppy rested her chin on her hands. “Go on.”
“Students resented her lack of care. Other teachers resented her lack of hard work and lesson plans. Candy Albright, as I discovered after speaking with her yesterday, resented Mrs. Krackel’s insistence on having students make a Frankenstein collage every Halloween. Complete with green skin and bolts in the neck.”
Poppy cringed. “Mildred specified Frankenstein? Not Frankenstein’s monster?”
“Even after the English Department’s Frankenstein Is Not the Monster puppet show. The assignment was a deliberate taunt, according to Ms. Albright.”
After the very strong, very loud case Candy had made in defense of that accusation, Simon had to agree. Mrs. Krackel had been mocking her colleague, which was a dangerous game indeed.
“But Ms. Albright wasn’t Mrs. Krackel’s most devoted enemy.” Leaning forward, he lowered his voice. “No, that would be…”
He paused, because apparently he harbored a heretofore unknown love for the dramatic.
Poppy’s eyes glinted with amusement. “Yes?”
“Mrs. Denham,” he announced.
Her eyebrows beetled, and her smile faded. “Mrs. Denham? Our custodian? Simon, what in the world—”
“Hear me out.” For confidence, he consulted his notes one last time. “Please.”
Pinching her mouth shut, Poppy waved him on.
“Mrs. Krackel left a horrible mess for Mrs. Denham and the other custodians to clean every day. From what I understand, Mildred refused to either clean it herself or allot sufficient class time so students could do it instead.”
Poppy inclined her head. “I’ve heard the same.”
“The rest is sheer speculation, but it would explain everything.” He tapped his forefinger on the table. “I think Mrs. Denham finally decided she’d had enough. So she confronted Mrs. Krackel one afternoon and threatened to stop cleaning the classroom unless Mildred or her students did some of the work themselves.”
Poppy’s brows were now arching toward her hairline, but she didn’t interrupt.
“Mildred refused. Laughed her off, or pulled rank. And then—” He spread his hands. “Mrs. Denham made her stand.”
Her lips twitched again, possibly at the portentous note in his voice. “Go on.”
This final twist in the story, he’d considered for the first time last night. However improbable, it would explain everything. The whispered comments, the horror-filled half-glances toward the table, the unceremonious nature of Mildred’s departure. All of it.
“One evening, after Mildred left for the day, Mrs. Denham left a warning. Right here.” He dipped his chin to indicate the table where he’d sat every day, the table all the students seemed to avoid so assiduously. “The custodial equivalent of a horse’s head.”
“Wow,” Poppy murmured. “Hadn’t expected a Godfather reference.”
He barreled on, ignoring her. “Maybe a pool of red paint, splattered to resemble blood. Maybe a clay figure stabbed with a carving tool. Something so egregious, so horrifying, Mrs. Krackel had to take action. So she went to Principal Dunn.”
“Who said…what?” Poppy’s head was tilted as she considered his theory. “Since Mrs. Denham still works here, and Mildred doesn’t, I assume Mildred didn’t receive the response she anticipated?”
“Exactly.” He smiled at her, pleased by her quick understanding. “Tess backed Mrs. Denham, not Mrs. Krackel. At which point, Mildred quit and left the school in a huff, never to return. Mystery solved.”
He sat back in smug satisfaction, waiting for praise of his investigative prowess.
It