An Indecent Death Read online

  Karl had called ahead to let Musjari know he was coming. He and Drumm hadn’t seen him at school that morning and the secretary had confirmed that he was home sick. When Drumm had asked just how sick he was, Mrs. McCall had shrugged her shoulders and said she didn’t know. “They don’t call us, you see, when they want to be away. They phone YASS and say they’re going to be absent.” At their puzzled looks, she said, “Oh. YASS stands for York Area Substitute System. It’s computerized. The teachers call in and enter their password. There’s a menu they go through. They don’t actually speak to anyone, just make choices.”

  Drumm had asked, “Don’t they need a doctor’s note or have to give you a reason for being away?”

  But Mrs. McCall had shaken her head, saying, “Only a doctor’s note if it’s three consecutive days. And we’re not allowed to know the reason. That’s because of privacy issues.”

  This was a much more liberal system than when Drumm had taught. “And how many sick days are they allowed now?”

  “Twenty.”

  Karl had asked, somewhat incredulously, “Do you mean that a teacher can be away twenty days in a year, no questions asked?”

  Mrs. McCall answered, “That’s about it, yes. Although most of them aren’t absent nearly that much.”

  Drumm asked, “So you don’t know how sick Mr. Musjari is?”

  “No, not at all. Though if you ask me, he’s taking a mental health day. He seemed okay yesterday.”

  Musjari had been a little reluctant to meet with him but Wesson convinced him by suggesting that he could avoid a trip to the station. That usually worked, and it did in this case too.

  When he let the detective into the apartment, Musjari was wearing blue jeans and a grey Boston Red Sox sweatshirt. He was unshaven and looked tired but not sick.

  “Thanks for seeing me, Mr. Musjari.”

  “You didn’t give me a lot of choice, did you?”

  Wesson decided to pull his chain a little. “I hope you aren’t too sick.”

  Musjari looked at him suspiciously. “It’s more of a mental health day. This Sarah thing has shaken me up. I haven’t been sleeping well. It’s hard to concentrate on school stuff with this going on.”

  They sat in the living room. Musjari’s apartment looked like a standard one-bedroom unit to Wesson: small kitchen, combined living and dining room, bathroom, balcony. It was furnished adequately but not sumptuously. It looked comfortable and clean.

  “Now, Mr. Musjari. Let’s go over what you told Detectives Drumm and Singh yesterday. You said that you were interested in Sarah Noonan but she wasn’t interested in you. Because you’re of Arab descent. Is that right?”

  “That’s what I said, yes.”

  “You asked her out once and…” Karl consulted his notebook. “She kissed you off. What did you mean by that?”

  Musjari was looking annoyed. “I asked her to go for a drink after school one night. She said she couldn’t, she had work to do. But I didn’t believe her. I could tell she didn’t like me.” His voice rose. “And that would have been alright, if she was honest about it! Just tell me the truth. But she was too good for me, she thought. It’s because I’m Arab!”

  Wesson thought it much more likely that it was because of the resentment he carried around. Aloud he said, “So you just asked her out the once? That’s a bit surprising, isn’t it? You said you found her cute and sexy. Do you always give up so easily?”

  Musjari was fidgeting about on the couch. Throughout the conversation his eyes had rarely met Wesson’s. He wasn’t looking at him now. “I asked her out a few times.”

  Wesson looked at him. “A few times? Why didn’t you say that yesterday?”

  “I don’t know. I was flustered. Upset. That other detective pissed me off. I said the wrong thing.” Musjari looked directly at Wesson. “I didn’t feel right about what I said yesterday. It’s one of the reasons I let you come and talk to me today. So I could do the right thing.”

  “So you asked Sarah Noonan for a date. How many times?”

  Musjari’s nostrils flared. He was a good-looking man but lost much of his appeal when his emotions got the better of him, as they were doing now. “They weren’t dates, for Chrissakes! It was just to go for a drink, to hang out. Twice that was. And once I asked her to go for a run with me. On a Sunday.”

  “Let me make sure I have this right. You asked Sarah to go out for a drink with you twice, and to go on a run with you?”

  “That’s right. That was the only one she said yes to.”

  Karl leaned forward. “Sarah Noonan went on a run with you? When was that?”

  “It was a few months ago. I don’t remember exactly when. But it was cold out, that I do know. And there was snow on the ground. We met up at a little parkette not far from here and jogged together for a couple of miles. And that was it. We went home separately. And every time I asked her out after that for a drink, she refused me!” Musjari was getting angry again.

  Well that was interesting, thought Karl. He said, “You went for a run with her once, and then she turned you down twice when you asked her to go for a drink, to hang out. Do I have that right?”

  Musjari nodded and Karl went on. “OK, now what about these other teachers you mentioned she was interested in. Would that be Kevin Callaghan and Bill Deans?”

  Musjari was looking increasingly surly. “You know about them? Yeah, that’s the two I mean. There might have been more. Who knows? She was a hell of a tease.”

  “So I understand,” said Karl. “Now, you were out last Friday night, with Mr. Omar Khan, at a restaurant and a nightclub. You will be interested to know that Mr. Khan confirms that he was with you that evening.”

  “Of course he would. That’s because I was with him.” Musjari was impatient.

  Karl went on, “But he can’t confirm that he was with you the whole evening. He says you went away for a while, and he also doesn’t know what time the two of you left Sparkles. So where did you go?”

  “I was only gone for a few minutes! I had to meet my brother.”

  “About what?”

  “About private family business. Private!”

  Karl sighed. What a tiresome idiot this man was. “So, let’s sum up. You’ve lied to the police and not told us important information about a murder victim that we should have heard. You can’t account for your whereabouts on the night of her killing and you won’t say where you were. Is that about right?”

  Musjari started to speak but Karl cut him off. “Don’t bother – I wouldn’t believe you anyway. Change of subject now. I understand you belong to The Fit Life gym, the same club as Sarah Noonan and Lynnette Cranston.”

  “That’s right. That’s how I know she liked to run.”

  Karl said, “We’ve been told that Sarah dressed in a provocative way at the club. Can you confirm that?”

  Musjari wasn’t looking at him again. “She wore shorts and a top, like most everyone else.”

  Wesson was looking at his notes. “Tight bicycle shorts and tight tops, so we were told. Is that what you saw?”

  Musjari was now visibly angry. “I guess so. Yes. She was a hot, sexy tease, like I already told you!”

  “We were also informed that you stared at her a lot at the gym. And that she didn’t like it. Is that right? Is that maybe why she didn’t want to out with you? Because you were ogling her and making her uncomfortable?”

  Musjari had stood up towards the end of the questions. He was angry but he had control of himself. “No! I wasn’t ogling her! And I’ve had enough of this. You need to go now!” He strode to the door and held it open.

  Karl sighed, then stood and said, “Well, thanks for your… co-operation. Hope you’re not too sick tomorrow.” He left the apartment figuring he had gotten most of what he had come for.

  Since nobody had been in it for three days, Sarah Noonan’s apartment smelt musty and stale; the FIS team had left the door locked and sealed. Drumm wanted another look at it to see if he had missed anythi
ng. He was searching for any small item that would show that the woman had been killed in the apartment. He wanted Lori along to give him the benefit of her observations.

  They had already checked the parking space in the garage where Sarah’s Rabbit had been parked, the garbage collection area and the entrances to the building. Five floors up and close to the elevators and a staircase, Sarah Noonan’s apartment must have been pretty convenient for her. It would also have been handy for her killer to remove her body.

  The fisties had been thorough, staying late into the night, checking the elevators and stairwells and her car. They had come up with nothing, except the fact that one of the small outdoor visitor parking lots was bright and well-lit, the other was much darker, the result of a broken bulb in the light standard.

  Lori was going through the kitchen while Drumm inspected the closets. The food was still in the refrigerator and cupboards, undisturbed. “We’ll have to do something about this food soon,” she said. “And did you notice? There are six wineglasses here in the cupboard. It looks like one is missing, counting the one on the drying rack – they usually come in sets of eight.”

  Drumm nodded and said, “I saw that.” He headed into the bedroom, the area which interested him the most. The FIS team hadn’t come up with anything from the rug or the bed, no hairs belonging to someone else, no stains, nothing at all out of place. Lori joined him in the bedroom and they looked around at the neatly made bed and strewn clothing.

  “If she was killed here, it was most likely on the bed, wouldn’t you say, Nick? I mean, she was given the drug, felt woozy and passed out. She either would have made it to the bed, with or without help, or collapsed somewhere else. But the killer would have wanted her on the bed, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, I agree, and that means that he made the bed afterwards. The messy clothing would be right, I think. She came home from work, threw her clothes on the chair and got herself ready for a night out.”

  “Why make the bed, though?”

  Drumm said, “Probably because he wanted to make it look like a normal night out. As if she came home, got dressed, went out and disappeared. If the bed were unmade, it would cast doubt on that story.”

  “He’s a cool customer, don’t you think? Takes the time to make the bed! And then, easy as you please, he takes the body out of here. What a risk! How did he do it?”

  Drumm had given this a lot of thought. “It’s always possible that she was still alive when she left here. She could have been leaning on him, like he was supporting her and then they went out to his car. If anyone saw them, he could pretend she was drunk. Which she basically was.”

  “You think that’s what happened?”

  “No. For two reasons. One, he planned to give her the drug here and rape her. I think that’s pretty clear. Otherwise he would have waited and met her at a club. But he didn’t do that. He came here, and he was going to do it here. So why then take her out of the apartment with all the risks involved in being seen? And that’s the second reason. She might have said something, or moaned, or screamed; there could have been a nosy parker neighbour. A lot of things could have gone wrong. No, I think she was dead when she left here.”

  “So how did he get her out of here unseen? Throw her over his shoulder and take her out in the elevator? Down the stairs?” Lori was looking skeptical.

  “Maybe, if it was Terry Noonan, or Donald Musjari. They’re strong enough to have done it. Or maybe he used something to help him. Maybe the body was wrapped up in a sheet or a rug. At this point we don’t know.” Drumm was rubbing his eyes. He was getting a headache, a sure sign his blood sugar was out of whack. “I don’t think there’s much more to be learned here. But Lori, take a look in her closet and drawers, would you, and see what you make of her clothing? I’ll just have another look at the living room.” He had, of course, checked all this out himself on his earlier visit but he wanted a woman’s perspective.

  “Sure.” After a few minutes, Lori rejoined him and said, “Well, it’s not the wardrobe that I would normally associate with a teacher, that’s for sure. And, contrary to what we’ve been told, she did own underwear. I guess she just didn’t wear it much. She had a lot of sexy lingerie, matching bra and panty sets, thongs, bustiers, stockings and garters. It’s expensive stuff, too, you can tell from how skimpy it is. Generally the less material there is, the more it costs.”

  Drumm’s headache was worse. And Lori Singh was watching him carefully. Just lately he’d had the sense that something was bothering her. He had that feeling now, the way she was looking at him. Should he ask her? He decided it could wait. “What about her other stuff, Lori?”

  She said, “Same idea. Good quality things, and everything chosen to make her look good. She favoured tops that were low-cut or tight or both, skirts slit up the side, that kind of thing. Even the skirts and dresses and blouses that were clearly chosen for school were smart and sexy. She wanted to look good and she knew what she was doing.”

  “Right. Thanks. I think we’re done here. Let’s canvass the neighbours again and see if anyone can remember seeing or hearing anything that night.”

  Staff meetings had to be held in the library because there were so many teachers at Elmdale Elementary School. They had tried the staff room in the past but it had proved to be too cramped. The library worked well with its large tables and open spaces, and there was room for a separate treat table as well. Jim Shaughnessy called a staff meeting every month, which was all the teachers’ union would allow, but he had snuck in an extra one at the end of this day. He said that he felt it necessary to address the staff concerning Sarah’s death and the police reaction to it.

  “This news has hit us all hard,” he said. “I just wanted you to know that I have been proud of the way you have handled it. You’ve been professional throughout this difficult week. I know, also, that having the police here questioning us all has been stressful. You deserve congratulations, all of you, for dealing with everything so well, and for carrying on regardless. Just one more day to go, and hopefully next week will be better.”

  Kevin Callaghan listened to his principal with half his mind. He supposed Jim was saying the right things, but what they all wanted was to go home and rest up for the next day. Shaughnessy was right, though: it had been a tough week. Kevin thought again about his interview the day before. Should he have said so much? Why did he tell them about having sex with Sarah? Because they would have found out anyway, he knew. Half the school knew about it. Did they suspect him? Of course they did! He was a fool!

  Shaughnessy was going on. “Some of the students want to set up a memorial to Sarah in the courtyard. I think it’s a good idea, but I wanted to get your views on it before we make any decisions.”

  Bill Deans was only half listening to his principal. He was a little surprised to hear about the memorial. Normally Jim kept him informed about stuff like that. Mostly, though, he kept thinking about his conversation with the police the day before. Why had he denied having sex with Sarah? They were sure to find out. Hell, they already had found out! Well, because for an administrator to be caught having sexual intercourse in a school was the epitome of stupidity. What an ass he was!

  Shaughnessy wrapped up the discussion and put an end to the meeting. The teachers started to leave the library, most quiet, some talking about the memorial, about which no consensus had yet been reached. The principal spoke to Lynnette Cranston as she was gathering up her books. “Lynnette, a word with you, please? How did today go? Are you sure it was wise to come back so soon? I thought you were going to be away all week.”

  “I know. I thought it was a good idea at first, too. But then, sitting around all day thinking about it…” Her voice trailed off. “I figured I would be better off here. Today was hard, but the kids were great, and I was right, working did take my mind off Sarah.”

  “You know, it’s good to have someone to talk to when a tragedy like this happens. Have you talked to one of the grief counselors?” The Y
ork Area School District automatically brought in qualified personnel to help teachers and students cope, whenever something traumatic happened.

  “No.” Lynnette was shaking her head. “I wouldn’t feel comfortable doing something like that.”

  “You really should, Lynn. They’re here to help.”

  “I don’t think so, Jim. But thanks.”

  “Well, at least talk to one of your other friends here about it. Or maybe a friend from another school. It might help to speak to someone not so close to the situation.”

  Lynnette started to shake her head but then stopped and said, “Maybe you’re right. Perhaps I’ll give Cassie a call.”

  “Cassie?”

  “Oh, sorry. Cassie Middleton. She’s a good friend of mine. Or used to be. I haven’t seen her much lately. But if anyone can help me make sense of Sarah’s death, it’s her.” She thought a moment. “You don’t know her? You came from Pinehurst. She’s a teacher there.”

  Jim Shaughnessy was looking at her strangely. “Cassie Middleton? No, I don’t think I do. She must have transferred in after I left. Yes, by all means, talk to her, it’ll do you good, I think.”

  They said goodbye and went their separate ways, the principal back to his office, and Lynnette directly out to her car and home.

  thirteen

  The reading was 5.9. That was okay, then. Drumm’s headache was gone and he felt normal again. It was a fine, sunny spring morning, his blood sugar was below six, he was about to take Will for a walk and he was going to see Emily again today. How could things be better?

  Well for a start, he thought, as he went out the door with the dog, he might know who Sarah Noonan’s murderer was. That would help. Last evening’s report to Staff Inspector Chappell had gone a little better than the previous one but his superior was far from satisfied. It helped that they were fairly sure that she was killed in her apartment and then dumped at the park. And that they were confident that a stocking or scarf had been used to kill her. But Chappell was still pushing, and Drumm couldn’t blame him. It didn’t do to have a schoolteacher strangled and her body dumped in the local park. And the police having to say, day after day, ‘no arrest yet.’