Read Online The Skeleton Takes a Bow (A Family Skeleton Mystery) by Leigh Perry - Free Book Online
Authors: Leigh Perry
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investigative perspective, but the technique had worked pretty well in the past when I was working on research papers.
“If nothing else,” Madison said, “it would be a great column for the school paper.”
From there, the conversation evolved into a discussion of the ethics of spreading gossip, even gossip confirmed by an impeccable source. By the time that was done, dinner was over, so after cleaning up, we headed for our respective computers: Madison to do homework, Sid to write up notes, and me to grade another couple of late homework papers and answer e-mail about the current week’s assignment. On the whole, I thought Sid had more fun than either Madison or I did.
11
M onday set the pattern for the next couple of days. Each night at dinner Sid would regale us with the latest goings-on at PHS: shy flirtations, torrid romances, and dramatic breakups; tests failed, papers aced, and memes shared; teachers who blamed all their problems on the administration, administrators who blamed the students’ parents, parents who blamed teachers, and students who either blamed everybody else for everything or were sure everything was their own fault. It was entertaining, to be sure, but wasn’t really moving our investigation along.
Thursday morning I was considerably better dressed than my usual combo of slacks and a decent top or sweater because as soon as my class was over, Charles and I were going to head to the funeral of that adjunct who’d died. I’d tried to rise to the occasion by wearing a navy dress with a charcoal blazer and a pair of heels. Charles met me outside my classroom, and he took me up on my offer to drive.
Though he was perfectly polite on the way, and of course impeccably dressed for the funeral, Charles was not his usual buoyant self. I even wondered if Sara had gotten something right for a change. Maybe Charles and Patty Craft had been an item. Of course it wasn’t really my business, any more than it was Sara’s, but sadly I was just as curious as my office neighbor. I managed to restrain my curiosity until I’d had to ask Charles three times how many were expected at the services.
“Please forgive me, dear lady,” he said. “I’m afraid I’m preoccupied.”
“Don’t apologize. I know this is hard for you.” I hesitated, but then asked, “Were you and Patty very close?”
“In all honesty, not close at all until she became ill. We’d worked together, and were collegial, but I never spent that much time with her until her distressing diagnosis. It was then that I saw that many of her friends were drifting away, as happens when times are difficult. So I offered as much support as I could.”
“Charles, you are such a sweetie.”
“No, Georgia, it was not from sweetness or anything so noble. It was guilt. I’d known that Patty was starting to . . . Let us say that I saw that she was heading down the wrong path in her life, and I did nothing to stop her. Though her poor choices had nothing to do with her illness, I know she had regrets later, and she carried those regrets to her grave. My own regret is knowing that I failed to act.”
“Poor choices?” I prompted.
But he shook his head. “These are not my secrets to share. All I can tell you is that I hope that the next time I have an opportunity to intervene and prevent a friend or colleague from making a mistake, I shall do so immediately.”
I patted his hand in a way which I knew Sara would misinterpret, but which I knew Charles would understand. With most of my friends, I’d have followed up with a hug once we arrived at the funeral home, but Charles just wasn’t the hugging kind.
Given what he’d said about Craft’s family and circle of friends, I wasn’t surprised that the services were being held at the smallest chapel of the Spadina Funeral Home. Charles excused himself to go find his friend’s sister Phoebe as soon as we came in, but after I signed the guest book, I spotted several other adjuncts from
“If nothing else,” Madison said, “it would be a great column for the school paper.”
From there, the conversation evolved into a discussion of the ethics of spreading gossip, even gossip confirmed by an impeccable source. By the time that was done, dinner was over, so after cleaning up, we headed for our respective computers: Madison to do homework, Sid to write up notes, and me to grade another couple of late homework papers and answer e-mail about the current week’s assignment. On the whole, I thought Sid had more fun than either Madison or I did.
11
M onday set the pattern for the next couple of days. Each night at dinner Sid would regale us with the latest goings-on at PHS: shy flirtations, torrid romances, and dramatic breakups; tests failed, papers aced, and memes shared; teachers who blamed all their problems on the administration, administrators who blamed the students’ parents, parents who blamed teachers, and students who either blamed everybody else for everything or were sure everything was their own fault. It was entertaining, to be sure, but wasn’t really moving our investigation along.
Thursday morning I was considerably better dressed than my usual combo of slacks and a decent top or sweater because as soon as my class was over, Charles and I were going to head to the funeral of that adjunct who’d died. I’d tried to rise to the occasion by wearing a navy dress with a charcoal blazer and a pair of heels. Charles met me outside my classroom, and he took me up on my offer to drive.
Though he was perfectly polite on the way, and of course impeccably dressed for the funeral, Charles was not his usual buoyant self. I even wondered if Sara had gotten something right for a change. Maybe Charles and Patty Craft had been an item. Of course it wasn’t really my business, any more than it was Sara’s, but sadly I was just as curious as my office neighbor. I managed to restrain my curiosity until I’d had to ask Charles three times how many were expected at the services.
“Please forgive me, dear lady,” he said. “I’m afraid I’m preoccupied.”
“Don’t apologize. I know this is hard for you.” I hesitated, but then asked, “Were you and Patty very close?”
“In all honesty, not close at all until she became ill. We’d worked together, and were collegial, but I never spent that much time with her until her distressing diagnosis. It was then that I saw that many of her friends were drifting away, as happens when times are difficult. So I offered as much support as I could.”
“Charles, you are such a sweetie.”
“No, Georgia, it was not from sweetness or anything so noble. It was guilt. I’d known that Patty was starting to . . . Let us say that I saw that she was heading down the wrong path in her life, and I did nothing to stop her. Though her poor choices had nothing to do with her illness, I know she had regrets later, and she carried those regrets to her grave. My own regret is knowing that I failed to act.”
“Poor choices?” I prompted.
But he shook his head. “These are not my secrets to share. All I can tell you is that I hope that the next time I have an opportunity to intervene and prevent a friend or colleague from making a mistake, I shall do so immediately.”
I patted his hand in a way which I knew Sara would misinterpret, but which I knew Charles would understand. With most of my friends, I’d have followed up with a hug once we arrived at the funeral home, but Charles just wasn’t the hugging kind.
Given what he’d said about Craft’s family and circle of friends, I wasn’t surprised that the services were being held at the smallest chapel of the Spadina Funeral Home. Charles excused himself to go find his friend’s sister Phoebe as soon as we came in, but after I signed the guest book, I spotted several other adjuncts from
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