“So when those things kept coming up, they finally put an end to being able to access the building on the weekends,” Charlotte said, folding her arms across her chest. “A bummer, but you can kind of see the reasoning.”
“Sure,” I said. “Not a perfect solution, especially for the teachers who weren't causing issues, but I get it.”
“Right,” she said, nodding. “A lot of us grumbled about it, myself included because I liked coming in on Sundays when the building was empty and quiet. I could get caught up on the paperwork I didn't want to lug home.” She sighed. “I'd hoped they'd revisit the decision, maybe offer us limited hours or something like that, but we haven't reached that point yet.” She frowned. “And now with this, I'm not sure we'll ever get to that point again. But I get it.”
She was right. If the school had already deemed the building off-limits on the weekends prior to the theft, it was hard to believe they'd ever reconsider opening it again. If anything, they'd probably try to lock the building down even tighter and restrict access even more.
“But here's the thing,” she said, lowering her voice. “And this is the real off the record part.”
I leaned in closer to hear her.
“I'm pretty sure that some people have been coming in on the weekends, anyway,” she whispered. “And there are already rumors that some people were in the building this past weekend.”
“When the computers were stolen?”
She nodded. “Yep. So when the police start asking people about what they might know, they might have to admit that they were here. And that will not go over well, I promise you.”
“Wow,” I said. “Yeah, I wouldn't want to have to be the one to admit I was breaking the rules.”
“Exactly,” she said. “For all the rules a school has, it's funny how poor faculty and staffs can be at following them. Do as I say, not as I do, I guess. That's pretty much any school I've ever worked at.”
I chuckled. There were a gazillion reasons why I homeschooled my kids but I would be lying if I said onerous and stifling school rules didn't make that list. Because they did. I certainly saw the value in rules and the necessity for them in a school where you had a thousand kids congregating in a confined space, but I also saw the benefit of educating my kids in an environment where they could chew gum without punishment, where they could go to the bathroom when they needed to go, and where they didn't have to raise their hands to be recognized.
“People could lose their jobs,” Charlotte said, frowning. “I'd hate to see that happen, but I think it's a possibility.”
I nodded, thinking the same thing. And then something else occurred to me.
“It could also create some...suspicions,” I said, making sure to keep my voice low.
She winced as soon as I said the word, but reluctantly nodded. “Yeah, it could. And that's the part that could get really uncomfortable.” She paused and glanced at the door again. “Because whoever was here would have to admit being here and I'd think that would kind of put the spotlight on them.”
I nodded. “But let me point out the obvious. Isn't it possible that someone here had something to do with the theft?”
She shrugged. “Anything's possible. I can't imagine that the people I've heard were here would have anything to do with it, but I guess you never know, right?” She frowned again. “And here's the thing. Even if they just did something dumb and c
I'd already seen the school gossip hotline in action with Charlotte. TMZ had nothing on high school.
I thought about what she said, my mind going back to one of her statements. “Do you know who was here this weekend?”
Charlotte's hand froze on her bracelet. She spun it slowly, her eyes glued to it.
“Charlotte?”
She took a deep breath. “I really shouldn't say. Because I don't know anything for certain. All I've heard are rumors and I don't want to say anything that isn't true. For all I know, the school could've been empty this weekend and whoever took the computers has nothing to do with the school.” She shrugged. “So I really don't know anything.”
I leaned back in my chair, trying to quell my disappointment. She was right to not pass along the rumors because that was probably all they were. And there was no reason for her to share what she'd heard with me. After all, we'd basically just met the day before and she'd been working with the staff at Prism for years.
I tried to not take it personally.
But it really did jumpstart my curiosity.
FIFTEEN
I needed to refocus.
My brain was trying to sabotage my entire day by ignoring the fundraiser I needed to plan and instead focusing on something else entirely: who might've been inside the school and who might've been involved with stealing the computers. The more I tried to remind myself that they were just rumors, the more my mind wanted to come up with scenarios that were better suited for nighttime television. If I stayed preoccupied with the rumors and the possibilities, the talent show would never get planned, much less executed.
So I tried to get serious.
I made a list of things that had to be accomplished prior to the show, a list of what would be needed to be done during the show and a list of follow up activities after the show. Then I listed the names of people I knew at the school to approach about participating in some way. I was able to get a list of faculty and staff from Charlotte, as well as some information from Ellen about what I needed to do to request chairs and set-up for the event in the auditorium. I filled out the event request form and turned it in to the appropriate box. And then I knew it was time to start on the toughest task of all.
Finding volunteers.
I decided to start with the person who I thought might have the most incentive to help.
Mr. Riggler.
When I'd gone to get the information about requesting set-up, Ellen had also been kind enough to print me off a master class schedule so I could see when teachers were free during the day. I knew I'd have to speak to most of them in the next couple of days and knowing when they were available so I wouldn't disrupt their classes was helpful.
He was perched at his desk in the back of the room, his shoulders hunched over, staring hard at a laptop screen. I knocked lightly on the open door and he nearly jumped out of his seat.
“Oh,” he said, his eyes wide. “Oh. Mrs. Savage. Hello.”
“Hi,” I said. “And please call me Daisy. I apologize for startling you. Is this a bad time?”
“What?” he asked, then shook his head. “Oh, no. It's fine. I was just concentrating. Sometimes I get a little lost when I'm reading.” He closed the laptop screen and pushed the computer aside. “What can I do for you?”
“Well, I'm not sure yet,” I said. “Have you heard about the fundraiser I've been put in charge of?”
His expression told me everything I needed to know. “No. I've kind of been in my own little world here.”
“Right. Well, Mrs. Bingledorf has tasked me with planning a fundraiser to help buy new computers,” I explained. “And we're going to do a talent show here at the school and charge admission.”
“Oh, that sounds fun,” he said. Then he looked at me, his eyebrows pushed together in a frown. “Wait. We have to raise money to buy new computers? We don't have the money? Or the insurance?”
“I'm not really sure of the situation,” I said. “I think Mrs. Bingledorf is worried that getting reimbursed will take too long and she wants to do something to at least purchase a few new computers.”
“So they can't buy any right away?” he asked.
“It doesn't sound like it, no.”
He looked away for a moment and I assumed he was disappointed, maybe frustrated, because it was going to complicate his teaching. But when he turned back to me, I swore he was trying to hide the remnants of a...smile.
“Wow,” he said. “Okay. I didn't know that. That is...well, that's just a bummer, I guess.”
But there was no sadness or frustration in his voice. He sounded...happy. Or something like that. And maybe that was why the rumors Charlotte had mentioned hijacked my brain again.
“Can I ask you a question?” I said, watching him closely.
He reached for a small stack of papers on his desk. “Sure, anything.”
“I've heard a rumor,” I said. “About teachers being in the building over the weekend. Even though that's against the rules. Do you know anything about that?”
He squirmed in his chair and any smile that had been lurking disappeared. “No,” he said, studying the paper on the top of the stack. He stole a quick glance at me. “Why would you ask me that? We can't be here on the weekends. It's against the rules. So who would be here? Why would they be here? And why would you ask me? Did someone say they saw me here? Who saw me here? I mean, who said they saw me here?”