1 Catered to Death Read online

  “I think it’s Claudine,” Monica said again. “It sounded to me like it was coming from the basement.”

  As if proving Monica right, Claudine came running up the steps from the basement, her thin face flushed and her hair looking as if she’d stuck her finger in a light socket. “He’s dead!” she screamed when she saw the knot of us standing in the hallway.

  “Who’s dead?” Junebug demanded.

  Claudine began to hyperventilate. “Frank, Frank’s dead! He’s down the basement and he’s been shot!”

  “NO!” It was Monica’s turn to scream and her voice was at least five times louder than Claudine’s. “He can’t be dead! Do you hear me? He can’t be dead!” She raced toward the steps, her green wrap dress flying behind her like a super hero’s cape.

  “Are you sure he’s dead, Claudine?” Simpson asked.

  “Who’s dead?” Jack Mulholland joined us. I didn’t see where he’d come from, just as I hadn’t seen where he’d come from earlier that day when he appeared seemingly out of nowhere in the parking lot.

  “Claudine said Frank’s dead,” Simpson said, sounding as if he didn’t believe what he was saying. “She said he was shot in the basement.”

  “I didn’t hear a gunshot,” Jack replied. “What, did someone use a silencer on him?”

  “Let’s go downstairs and see,” Simpson suggested.

  “Shouldn’t someone call the police?” I asked.

  “Good idea,” Simpson said. “But first we’d better see what’s really going on. Claudine, I don’t mean to be cruel but you aren’t the world’s most reliable witness. Maybe Frank fainted or something.”

  “He’s dead,” Claudine insisted, covering her face with shaking hands. “I saw his body lying on the floor in the basement.”

  “No offense, but how many dead bodies have you seen in your life?”

  “Simpson, I’ve never seen a dead body before but I’ve never seen a moose before either but if I did, I’d be able to tell that it was a moose! I have a very high IQ, you know!”

  “We all know that, Claudine,” Jack said. “Now let’s go downstairs and see what’s happening before we call the fuzz. Come on.”

  I followed the group down the stairs, not because I wanted to see if Frank Ubermann was really dead but because I didn’t want to remain on the first floor if there was a murderer creeping around the building. I barely knew the members of the Eden Academy staff and from what I had seen of them, anyone of them could have been a killer but there had to be safety in numbers.

  We walked swiftly down the steps until we reached an open area in the basement that obviously served several different purposes—gymnasium, student cafeteria, auditorium. Monica was standing in the far corner of the room, her hands covering her face just like Claudine’s had. Lying on the floor in front of her was a man clad in dark slacks and a cashmere V-neck sweater.

  My heart began to pound and I felt dizzy. I’ve never been good with anything dead and always turn my eyes away from road kill. Now, less than ten yards away from me, the body of a man I’d just met was on the ground. I stopped walking, hanging back from the rest of the group as I tried to catch my breath. Simpson, Jack and Junebug reached Monica’s side.

  “Is he really dead?” Junebug asked.

  Jack bent over Frank and I saw him carefully touch his neck, just like detectives did on crime shows. He stood up, an odd expression on his face. “Dead as a doornail,” he announced. He sounded almost pleased to me.

  “Was he shot?” I asked, surprised that I was able to speak at all.

  “See for yourself,” Jack invited, stepping back. It was then that I had a full view of Frank Ubermann’s body. He’d been shot, all right, but not with a gun. Sticking up out of his chest was an arrow, one that had apparently found its bull’s eye.

  “No wonder we didn’t hear anything,” Simpson commented. “I doubt Frank heard anything coming at him either.”

  Monica began to sob hysterically.

  “Steve?” My voice sounded small and I felt like I was very far away from my husband, like I was calling him from the bottom of a barrel.

  “DeeDee? I was wondering about you all afternoon. How are you, honey? How’d the lunch go? Did everyone like the seafood casserole?” Steve sounded so normal, so alive and healthy that it took all of my self-control not to start crying.

  “Yes, they seemed to liked everything…”

  “Are you done then?”

  “No, I’m still at Eden Academy. Steve, could you please come over to the school? Right away? I need you.”

  “Of course. What is it? Can’t you fit everything back in your car?”

  “It’s not that.”

  “You sound funny, DeeDee. What is it? What’s the matter?”

  “It’s awful—the police are here and an ambulance and, oh, Steve, could you just hurry?”

  “DeeDee, take a deep breath and tell me what happened,” Steve ordered. “Slowly.”

  I couldn’t stop myself. I started crying too, not as hysterically as Monica but I was still crying. “Someone’s been murdered. And at my very first catering job!”

  “I’m on my way,” Steve promised. “Don’t move. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  Steve made it in seven. The longest seven minutes of my life. While I was waiting for him to arrive, I sat in the staff lounge and watched as several policemen hurried in and out of the doorway. This was the first murder that had happened in Kemper since we’d moved here twenty years earlier and I had the impression that the police were almost as shocked as the Eden Academy staff.

  Steve burst into the room, my knight in shining armor with a bad knee and bifocals. “It’s OK,” he told me when he reached my side and grabbed my hands “everything is OK.”

  “Steve!” I jumped into his embrace and buried my head against his shoulder. “Oh, Steve, it was so awful!”

  “What happened?” Steve asked, still holding me tightly. “Are you all right?”

  I nodded against his jacket. “I’m fine. The lunch was fine too. Well, it wasn’t really fine. I mean, everyone liked the food but they were all so awful to each other, Steve. They were crabbing at each other and being so terrible. It was like they all hated each other.”

  “Who got murdered? Did someone get shot?”

  “Excuse me, sir, but who are you?”

  Turning, we saw a police officer who appeared to be approximately fourteen-years old with a round baby face, big blue eyes and not even a hint of a beard on his peachy skin. He looked like someone dressing up like a cop for Halloween. Steve eyed the police officer’s nameplate. “I’m Steve Pearson, Officer Austin.”

  “This is a crime scene, sir. I’m afraid we can’t just let you walk in the way you did.”

  “It’s all right, officer,” I told him. “This is my husband.”

  “Doesn’t matter, ma’am. This is a crime scene and everyone in this room is a person of interest.”

  Steve laughed. “DeeDee doesn’t even like to kill mosquitoes.”

  “I don’t understand your point, sir, but we have to go by the rules.”

  “I’m sorry,” Steve apologized. “My wife catered the lunch and when she called and said that there had been a murder at the school I naturally rushed down here to make sure she was safe. I’m sure you can understand that.”

  “Of course, but we’ll still have to ask you to leave.”

  “May I leave too?” I asked, still clutching Steve’s arm tightly.

  “Not quite yet but it shouldn’t take much longer.”

  “Who was killed, officer?” Steve questioned.

  Officer Austin didn’t respond. “Please leave and we’ll be releasing your wife real soon. Thank you for your cooperation. You can wait in the hallway until we’re done with your wife.”

  “Officer, I must talk to you immediately!” Claudine came over and yanked at the police officer’s arm. “I feel faint and I need medical assistance now. This has been such a traumatic experience for me—I re
ally feel quite unwell.”

  “Of course, ma’am.” Officer Austin and Claudine moved a few feet away. Steve seized the moment to ask me again, “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  I nodded. “I’m OK. When do you think they’ll let me leave?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never been around a real murder investigation before. Who was that?”

  “The redhead? She’s a teacher at Eden Academy. Her name is Claudine Markham.”

  “She looks pretty shaken up.”

  “From what I gathered, she was very close to Frank Ubermann—the man who was murdered. Actually, she’s the one who hired me to cater the lunch.” I felt my lower lip start to tremble. “Oh, Steve, I think I should have chosen another career path to follow. This whole thing is a nightmare!”

  Steve held my arms firmly and used the no-nonsense voice he always used during a family crisis. “DeeDee, you’re catering the lunch today has nothing to do with the murder. It isn’t like they used your seafood casserole to choke someone.”

  “No,” I agreed. “The seafood casserole was really quite a hit with most of the staff.”

  “See? You did the right thing by choosing to go into catering. Now tell me fast before the junior cop gets back: who did you say was killed?”

  “Frank Ubermann. I met him this afternoon. He seemed nice. Well, sort of nice in an oily kind of way.”

  “Was he a teacher?”

  “No, he’s the head of the school, like a principal only they call him a director instead. Or a dictator. That’s what I heard a teacher call him this afternoon—before he got murdered.”

  “And you said he was shot, right?”

  I nodded.

  “Who shot him?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Steve’s eyes widened. “You didn’t see it happen?”

  “No, it was down in the gym in the basement. We were on the first floor.”

  “Thank God for that. Did you hear the gun go off?”

  DeeDee shook her head. “He wasn’t shot with a gun.”

  Steve frowned. “He wasn’t shot with a gun? Then what was he shot with?”

  “An arrow.”

  “An arrow? As in a bow and arrow?”

  “Yes. There’s an archery thing set up in the basement. Frank was down there getting supplies for his camping trip when––”

  “Now you’re really going to have to leave, sir.” Officer Austin was back without Claudine. “Please wait outside for your wife. This shouldn’t take too much longer.”

  “I’m sorry. Of course. Dee Dee, I’ll be in the hallway.”

  Watching Steve leave the room was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I know our friends all think that we’re overly dependent on each other but at that moment, it was like watching my oxygen supply get cut off. Fortunately, after another ten minutes of sitting in the lounge, I was told I could go.

  The hallway was beginning to fill with other people. While I was searching for Steve I recognized a local news anchor from the tiny station in town.

  “What’s going on in there?” the anchor asked. “Who was murdered? Do you know?”

  “I don’t think I should say anything,” I replied, looking past his shoulder for my husband.

  “Are you a teacher at Eden Academy?”

  “No…”

  “Do you work here?”

  “No…”

  “Are you with the police department?”

  “No…” I could see the impatience growing in the reporter’s face.

  “Then who are you?”

  “DeeDee Pearson. I catered a lunch at Eden Academy today.”

  The anchor’s interest returned. “Did you witness the murder? Did it happen during the lunch you catered?”

  “No!”

  The interest faded away. “Isn’t there anyone around who can give me something I can use?” he semi-whined, looking down the hallway. “I’ve got a deadline coming up and so far I’ve got zilch to go on.”

  “I’m sure if you give it a few minutes the police will tell you something.”

  The anchor smirked. “Like those boneheads know anything. The Kemper PD had better start watching CSI reruns fast before they blow it.”

  “DeeDee!” Steve came out of the crowd.

  “The police said I could go but I still need to pack up all of my things,” I told him. “Everything’s ready to go, I just need to put it in the van.”

  “I’ll help you,” Steve volunteered. “Then let’s get out of here.”

  “Look, DeeDee,” the anchor said impatiently as Steve and I started to walk away. “You should let me interview you. This could be some good free publicity for you.”

  “Being part of a crime scene?” I asked doubtfully.

  “Hey, you’re in business so you should know that you’ve got to take publicity where you can find it. Now can you just please tell me what happened?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t really know what happened. The lunch ended around three o’clock. I was upstairs cleaning up after everyone left when suddenly one of the teachers screamed that someone was dead.”

  “Who?” the reporter asked.

  “That’s what I asked. ‘Who?’ The teacher said it was Frank so I knew it was Frank Ubermann.”

  “Frank Ubermann, Eden Academy’s director?” The anchor’s face lit up. “Phew! I was afraid it was going to be some nobody but this is good. Do you have any idea of what happened?”

  “Not really––”

  Steve took me firmly by the elbow and steered me back toward the lounge. “You don’t have to talk to him right now,” he said. “You probably shouldn’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because we don’t know what’s OK to say and what isn’t. Someone died, honey, and you were there. It’s best to keep our mouths shut right now.”

  “DeeDee, I just have a few more questions for you,” the anchor called after us.

  “Not now,” Steve said over his shoulder.

  “You’re being very uncooperative!” the anchor shouted.

  Steve ignored him.

  “You’re probably right,” I whispered as we hurried down the hall. “I don’t have a clue as to what I’m supposed to do or say. It’s not like I’ve ever been in this kind of situation before.”

  We returned to the staff lounge where the police were still talking to several staff members. “What should I do?” Steve asked.

  “If you want to put everything into those boxes that would be great.”

  Steve began to fill the boxes with utensils, plates and silverware. “DeeDee, what did happen?” he asked in a low voice as he bundled together the linen napkins. “How did that Ubermann guy get shot with an arrow?”

  “He teaches archery twice a week in the basement,” I explained. “That’s what one of the teachers told me. They’ve got a section all set up with targets and everything. Someone used a bow and arrow from the class and shot him.”

  Steve winced. “That had to hurt. Do they know who did it?”

  “No clue. At least, not that I know of.”

  “Who came up and told you about the murder?”

  “Claudine, the redhead who was talking to that baby-faced police officer. You should have seen her, Steve. She looked like all the blood had drained out of her body her face was so white.”

  “Did she find him?”

  “I’m not sure. I guess so—I don’t really know what happened. All I know is that Claudine came in here screaming and then everything seemed to hit the fan at once. It was like being in a kaleidoscope—people were flying in and out of the room like they were in a turbine or something.”

  “Are you ready, honey? We should go home so you can get some rest.”

  “I’m all set,” I told him, picking up a plate of food that I’d wrapped in Saran Wrap. “But I don’t want to rest. I’d like a glass of wine—a very big glass of wine. Huge. Maybe a whole bottle.”

  “Who is that for?” Steve asked, gesturing toward the plate.
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  “The school’s receptionist. She wasn’t invited to the luncheon, can you believe it? They were having a party and didn’t even ask her to join them.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because she’s an hourly worker. There’s some kind of caste system in place here with the hourly employees at the very bottom. The two groups don’t mix, apparently. I asked if I should go get her when the luncheon started but everyone looked at me like I’d just suggested that they invite the local leper or something so I promised myself that I’d bring her a plate of food after the lunch was over.”

  “That was very nice of you, DeeDee.”

  “It’s not much but at least she won’t feel left out,” I replied.

  “Let’s drop the plate off and go. I’ve had enough of this place.”

  “Me too,” I quickly agreed. “As a matter of fact, if I never come to Eden Academy again, it will be too soon.”

  Chapter Six

  Steve and I walked back down the hallway, me clutching at his arm with one hand like I was about to be blown away by a hurricane and holding the plate of food for Ruth Sparrow with my other hand. That was exactly how I felt—like he’d rescued me from the path of an oncoming train. Steve’s arm felt very nice under my hand, muscled and warm and very strong. I’d always known that I needed my husband but it wasn’t until that afternoon that I discovered what a rock he really was. “What a nightmare,” I said, still holding onto him. The anchor from the television station had vanished along with the other people who had been milling about.

  Steve squeezed my hand. “It’s OK now. You’re OK.” He was pulling a cart behind him that was filled with my catering supplies. Looking at the assortment of boxes and bowls, it seemed next to impossible to me that just a few hours ago I had brought the same supplies to Eden Academy, never dreaming that an honest-to-goodness nightmare was about to happen after I served lunch.

  “I wonder where everyone went.”

  “Maybe they’re downstairs,” Steve said, looking back over one shoulder. “This is quite a school. It sure doesn’t look like the high school Jane and Tyler went to. Although it is kind of rundown looking.”

  “Believe me, our kids did way better with a public education,” I assured him. “The teachers here are something else. I can’t imagine when they get around to doing any actual teaching, they were so busy throwing barbs at each other and complaining.”