Read Online Dying to Teach by Cindy Davis - Free Book Online
Authors: Cindy Davis
Tags: Mystery
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shoulder. Cilla flinched away, then relaxed. What was up with that?
“Come on, let’s go home.” Josh stuck out a hand again to Angie, who took it. “It was nice to meet you.”
“Thanks. I’ll see you around the school,” she said though she doubted it. The English department was at the other end of the building from the auditorium.
As she walked away she wondered, who had searched the auditorium.
SEVEN
Angie drove around the back of the school, passing two police cruisers parked against the curb outside the doors. Had they, in reality, executed the search of Gwen’s office last night and were now finishing up? If so, they’d be sitting in the green room, probably around the long table, toe-tapping and thumb-twiddling as they waited for her to return with a key. Second thought: they were searching Ted’s domain. Ted was head of the boys athletic program. He had control, or at least access to, the gym, locker rooms and an office, not to mention the teachers’ lounge. Third thought: something else had gone wrong.
She shoved away the myriad of questions and found a space as far from the vehicles as possible. Nobody guarded the double doors. Nobody in the corridor that led to the auditorium. Her heels clicked like castanets on the floor. Nobody came to see what caused the noise.
She found the auditorium empty, the green room also. She fitted the costumes on hangers in the dressing room and the costume jewelry in the special box on a shelf with other small props. For now her schedule was free. The rest of the week she had classes just like a regular teacher.
School let out in an hour. At that time, the place would teem with actors and stagehands. She slid the key into the office doorknob. A sound from the dressing room made her spin around only to find she was alone, yet as she turned the key, the noise came again, soft, just a rustle, like a mouse moving inside a wall. Cops coming through the auditorium? Didn’t sound like cops. Their equipment clinked and squeaked. She rubbed the hairs on her arms. Prince & Pauper had the occasional mouse also. Rodents were one thing Tyson tended to.
Angie retreated into the office where it dawned on her that she might be trapped with one of the furry critters. She rubbed her arms again and sat at the desk to read scripts. Three Can be Deadly started out with suspense that brought the hairs on her arms back to attention. On page four the suspense took a nosedive. Angie looked for a pen to make notations. No pen. She pulled open the top drawer and groped inside. Snap!
Angie jerked her hand from the drawer, a mousetrap clamped around two fingers. She eased it off, heaved it in the wastebasket, and rubbed the injured fingers. Who ever heard of mice in a desk? The only thing that would draw them was food. She slid the drawer open all the way. No food. Just ordinary desk items. She selected a pen and shut the drawer. Then something struck her. There was no bait in that trap. Angie leaned down to inspect it in the wastebasket. No bait. Odd.
Angie went back to reading and making comments on the manuscript, and occasionally rubbing her sore fingers. At 2:30 the final school bell rattled the walls. Angie fitted the script back in the envelope. Though it needed work, it looked like Three Can be Deadly was a definite possibility as an upcoming Prince & Pauper production.
Angie stepped into the green room as the students clattered in and gathered around the long table.
“What happened in here?” somebody asked.
“The cops were here again.”
“Why would they come back?”
“No idea.”
“We can all pitch in and clean up later.”
“Sure, but what are they looking for?”
How much to tell them? She could talk about routine police procedure in murder cases. She could say how it was normal to search all suspects’ homes and work places—though not usually twice. The kids would know that from television anyway. They’d also know the spouse, or intended
“Come on, let’s go home.” Josh stuck out a hand again to Angie, who took it. “It was nice to meet you.”
“Thanks. I’ll see you around the school,” she said though she doubted it. The English department was at the other end of the building from the auditorium.
As she walked away she wondered, who had searched the auditorium.
SEVEN
Angie drove around the back of the school, passing two police cruisers parked against the curb outside the doors. Had they, in reality, executed the search of Gwen’s office last night and were now finishing up? If so, they’d be sitting in the green room, probably around the long table, toe-tapping and thumb-twiddling as they waited for her to return with a key. Second thought: they were searching Ted’s domain. Ted was head of the boys athletic program. He had control, or at least access to, the gym, locker rooms and an office, not to mention the teachers’ lounge. Third thought: something else had gone wrong.
She shoved away the myriad of questions and found a space as far from the vehicles as possible. Nobody guarded the double doors. Nobody in the corridor that led to the auditorium. Her heels clicked like castanets on the floor. Nobody came to see what caused the noise.
She found the auditorium empty, the green room also. She fitted the costumes on hangers in the dressing room and the costume jewelry in the special box on a shelf with other small props. For now her schedule was free. The rest of the week she had classes just like a regular teacher.
School let out in an hour. At that time, the place would teem with actors and stagehands. She slid the key into the office doorknob. A sound from the dressing room made her spin around only to find she was alone, yet as she turned the key, the noise came again, soft, just a rustle, like a mouse moving inside a wall. Cops coming through the auditorium? Didn’t sound like cops. Their equipment clinked and squeaked. She rubbed the hairs on her arms. Prince & Pauper had the occasional mouse also. Rodents were one thing Tyson tended to.
Angie retreated into the office where it dawned on her that she might be trapped with one of the furry critters. She rubbed her arms again and sat at the desk to read scripts. Three Can be Deadly started out with suspense that brought the hairs on her arms back to attention. On page four the suspense took a nosedive. Angie looked for a pen to make notations. No pen. She pulled open the top drawer and groped inside. Snap!
Angie jerked her hand from the drawer, a mousetrap clamped around two fingers. She eased it off, heaved it in the wastebasket, and rubbed the injured fingers. Who ever heard of mice in a desk? The only thing that would draw them was food. She slid the drawer open all the way. No food. Just ordinary desk items. She selected a pen and shut the drawer. Then something struck her. There was no bait in that trap. Angie leaned down to inspect it in the wastebasket. No bait. Odd.
Angie went back to reading and making comments on the manuscript, and occasionally rubbing her sore fingers. At 2:30 the final school bell rattled the walls. Angie fitted the script back in the envelope. Though it needed work, it looked like Three Can be Deadly was a definite possibility as an upcoming Prince & Pauper production.
Angie stepped into the green room as the students clattered in and gathered around the long table.
“What happened in here?” somebody asked.
“The cops were here again.”
“Why would they come back?”
“No idea.”
“We can all pitch in and clean up later.”
“Sure, but what are they looking for?”
How much to tell them? She could talk about routine police procedure in murder cases. She could say how it was normal to search all suspects’ homes and work places—though not usually twice. The kids would know that from television anyway. They’d also know the spouse, or intended
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