“Like what?”
“Guess she kept it vague but Denise, Charles’ sister, said Bobbie had Charles convinced the lives of his children were going to be hell if he didn’t play by Bobbie’s rules.” Lane lifted his cup.
“You believe the sister?”
“She was pretty convincing. Seemed to be very careful about sticking to what she saw and heard. The funny thing was she didn’t try to convince me that Charles couldn’t have killed his daughter. I kept expecting her to say it. The way she talked about Charles, it was obvious she thought he was not a killer. But she never came out and said he didn’t do it. It was very odd,” Lane said.
“Here you go.” The owner slid two plates onto the table. They were stacked with kettle-bread sandwiches skewered with toothpicks.
“Looks good,” Harper picked up half a turkey sandwich.
“Always is,” Lane said.
“Enjoy.” The owner went back inside.
“That’s not the only odd thing,” Harper said.
Lane didn’t talk. Instead, he chewed a mouthful of sandwich.
“I checked out the trip to Jamaica. It was the last week in July. One of those radio promotions where the twelfth caller wins a trip. Bobbie went with about 120 other women on an all-expenses-paid vacation to a singles resort.” Harper waited for a reaction from Lane.
Lane put his right hand over his mouth, chewed, and shrugged.
“Man, you’ve got a swinger living next door, and you don’t know it. I mention singles resort, and you don’t get it.”
Lane swallowed before he said, “Get what?”
“An all female trip. Singles resorts often hire buff guys to work the resorts. Some women go just to get the “big bamboo” and a tan.” Harper shook his head in frustration with Lane’s bewilderment. “Do I have to draw you pictures?”
“You mean?” Lane was beginning to get the picture.
“Some women go to singles resorts for a sex holiday. Denise’s story jives with what I found out. Bobbie did return to the resort for a week in August. I’ve made a series of calls. The resort staff puts me on hold, or someone takes a message, then no one gets back to me. I’ve been playing a marathon game of telephone tag.”
“Why would they avoid you?” Lane asked.
“I’m not sure. It’s not likely I’ll get a ticket to fly down there to find out. I’m gonna have to get the information some other way.”
“Did you try the local police?” Lane’s phone rang.
He flipped it open. “Hello.”
“Can you meet me at Matt’s school?” Arthur asked.
There was panic in his voice.
“Is he okay?” Lane asked.
“He’s been suspended. The principal wants us to come to school. We made an appointment for three o’clock. Said he wants both of us there,” Arthur said.
“But we have no legal rights here,” Lane said.
“Yes we do. Martha signed a form so I could get Matt into school. We’re in the process of becoming Matt’s guardians.”
Lane took a quick breath. He thought about asking, “When were you going to let me in on this?” Instead, he said, “Three o’clock. Where?”
Arthur told him.
“I’ll be there,” Lane said.
Matt’s school was located off Macleod Trail. Its massive concrete walls stood two stories and held more than 2500 students. A car, carrying four teens, peeled out of the parking lot. The driver spotted the unmarked police car, backed his foot off the accelerator, and drove by without making eye contact.
Harper glared as they passed. He dropped Lane off near the front doors. Inside the school, Lane met Arthur in the main foyer. Students passed by. One of the younger ones almost knocked Lane flat with a backpack weighing nearly half the boy’s body weight.
“What’s it about?” Lane asked.
Arthur dodged a young woman with more cleavage than a movie star at an awards ceremony. “He called his English teacher an asshole.”
Lane began to answer, thought better of it, and followed Arthur.
They opened the door of the office. A pair of students sat in chairs to their left. Matt was one of them. Lane noted that the boy’s face reflected a mix of anger and dread. Lane sat down next to him and said, “What happened?”
Matt shook with anger. “The teacher asked us about revenge. I told the class a story. The teacher made fun of me, and I called him an asshole. I hate bein’ treated like that!” He looked at the wall as if resigned to the inevitable lecture.
Arthur sat down on the other side.
Lane put the thumb and forefinger of his right hand against his forehead. Matt twitched his shoulders and ducked.
“Nobody’s going to hit you,” Lane said.
Matt looked back at him as if to say, “We’ll see.”
Arthur nodded at Lane and mouthed, “Go ahead.”
“Start from the top. Tell us everything that happened,” Lane said.
“The teacher asked if anyone had a story to tell about revenge, so I put my hand up. I explained what I did to Phil.” Matt looked from Lane to Arthur.
“Phil’s a cousin,” Arthur said.
“Keep going,” Lane said.
“We went to a family reunion one weekend. It was out in the country. Sunday morning we went to church. Halfway through, Phil needed to go to the bathroom. He’d been buggin’ me all weekend, sayin’ stuff about the way I walk and gettin’ me into trouble, so I took him outside, and showed him where to go.” Matt looked a little unsure if he should continue.
“Go on,” Lane said.
“I told him, ‘If you piss on the fence it’ll turn to steam.’ He did what I said, and started screaming. Then, he pissed all down the front of his pants.”
“I don’t understand,” Lane said.
“The fence was electrified,” Matt said as if every other human on the face of the planet knew that. “Everybody in the church rushed out. Aunt Margaret smacked me a couple of good ones up against the side of the head. Dad gave me a couple more.”
“You were kicked out of class because you told the story?” Arthur was more than a little bewildered.
“No, the kids loved it. They all laughed. It was Mr. Smith,” Matt said.
“Tell us the rest.” Lane tried not to smile. He was only partly successful.
Matt said, “After everyone stopped laughing, Mr. Smith said, ‘Anyone got another rootin’ tootin’ cowpoke revenge story?’”
Lane looked at Arthur in confusion.
Matt said, “It was the way he said it. All sarcastic like. I told you I hate it when people treat me like I’m some kinda freak.”
“Oh.” Lane stopped smiling.
“You’re here to see Mr. Todd?” a woman behind the counter asked. Her red hair sprung out around her head like steel wool.
“That’s us,” Arthur said.
“Come with me.” She led them along a hallway to a conference room. “He’ll be right in.” She closed the door behind her.
“What are you gonna do?” Matt asked.
“I don’t know. Listen to what they have to say, I guess. After that, we all need to sit down and talk when we get home.” Lane looked at Arthur for support.
Arthur said, “That’s right.”
The door opened. A woman stepped in. “I’m Mrs. Stuckart. Something’s come up. The principal asked me to talk with you. I’m Matt’s administrator.”
Lane noted that the woman almost looked them in the eye even though they were sitting. She had a round figure and wore glasses. Lane watched her eyes taking the measure of the three of them. Don’t underestimate her, he thought.
Mrs. Stuckart sat down across from them, “Mr. Lane and Mr. Mereli, you’re in the process of obtaining legal guardianship of Matt?”
“That’s correct.” Arthur didn’t look at Lane.
“We’ve got a letter on file from Matt’s mother. How is she?” Mrs. Stuckart asked.
Matt studied the faces of the adults around the table.
“Fine,” Arthur said.
“You can stop pretending. I know she’s got cancer.