Annie took the envelope, glanced inside, and thumbed quickly through the bills. “Unless this takes longer than we expect, this should be plenty.” She closed the envelope and dropped it into her handbag. “Do you want a receipt?”
Mrs. McKinley shook her head and smiled weakly. “You have a good reputation and I don’t want a paper trail. I don’t think a receipt will be necessary.”
“We’ll let you know how things go as we proceed,” Jake said and looked at Annie. “Anything else we need to know?”
“I believe we have enough information,” Annie said. She stood and faced Mrs. McKinley. “I’ll contact you if there’s anything else we need.”
Jake and Mrs. McKinley stood and the woman led them to the foyer. She opened the door and thanked them, hope in her eyes.
They stepped out onto the porch and the solid door closed behind them.
Inside the car, Annie turned to Jake and patted her handbag. “There’s ten thousand dollars in this envelope.”
Jake’s mouth dropped open. “This woman means business. She must be desperate.”
“Wouldn’t you be?” Annie asked.
Jake grinned and started the Firebird. “You don’t have to worry about that. We’re never going to be in this situation.”
Annie looked at her watch. “What do you say about getting on this immediately? It’s still early and we’ve got all day.”
Jake laughed. “I’m game, but let’s not do it too quickly. We’ve got ten thousand dollars’ worth of time to use up.” He glanced over at Annie’s frown and lost his grin. “Just kidding. We’ll give her a refund if necessary.”
Chapter 7
Tuesday, 10:20 a.m.
HANK SAT IN the office of Richmond North High School, leaning forward in his chair, his hands cupped in front of him. He gazed around the busy room. The administrative staff went about their chores almost as though nothing had happened in the parking lot behind the school.
Occasionally, someone would give him a brief glance, then look away. Two or three would gather, put their heads together, then carry on with their business. Though no one had been informed who the unfortunate victim was, they knew why he was there. He wished he were somewhere else, but someone had to talk to Teddy White, and the unpleasant task always fell in his lap.
He was informed by the principal that Nina White’s husband was not at home but had answered his cell and would be in shortly, not to take care of his students, but to talk with the detective, who waited patiently, fidgeting with his hands.
Hank looked over as a man wearing a dark suit and a cinnamon-red tie walked past the counter and glanced around. The principal spied the man and waddled hurriedly across the floor, approaching him. The principal leaned in, spoke some quiet words, and pointed toward Hank, and the man looked Hank’s way.
Hank stood as the men approached.
“You may use my office,” the principal said.
Hank nodded at the principal and turned toward the unsmiling man. “Teddy White?”
The man leaned in slightly and spoke in a low, stiff voice. “Yes.”
“This way,” the principal said, motioning toward an office. Hank picked up his briefcase and they followed him, stepping inside the room. The principal left them alone and closed the door quietly.
Hank motioned toward one of two guest chairs on the near side of the desk. Teddy White sat down, crossed his legs, straightened his back, and looked at the detective.
Hank turned the other chair around, sat his briefcase on the floor beside the chair, and sat facing Teddy. The man was in his late forties, his thin face lined with worry. Perspiration gathered on his semi-bald head, his high brow wrinkled with growing fear. He remained silent, his eyes searching Hank’s face.
The cop leaned forward, struggling to find the right words, but they never seemed to come. He cleared his throat, leaned in, and spoke softly. “Mr. White, my name’s Detective Corning. I’m afraid I have to inform you …” Hank took a short breath. “It’s about your wife. She’s been killed.”
Teddy White sat unmoving, his worried face unchanged, his eyes glaring into Hank’s, trying to process what he just heard. Sometimes it could take awhile to sink in; it never went the same way twice.
Hank waited and watched.
The voice came at last, low, reserved, unemotional. “What happened?”
Hank sat back. “She was hit by a car. Run over.” He cocked a thumb over his shoulder. “It happened last night in the parking lot.”
Teddy’s voice finally cracked. “Run over?”
Hank nodded.
Teddy leaned forward, pain now showing in his eyes. “On purpose?”
“It looks that way,” Hank said. “I’m very sorry.”
Teddy nodded slightly in recognition of Hank’s words. “I was afraid something happened when she didn’t come home last night. She’s dedicated to her students and often works late, occasionally until two or three in the morning.”
“When did you talk to her last?” Hank asked.
Teddy thought a moment, running his fingers through the thin, graying hair above one ear. “Perhaps eight o’clock last night. She called to tell me she would be working late and wasn’t sure what time she would be home.”
“When did you suspect … something was wrong?”
Teddy sighed deeply and sat back. “I went to bed without her at eleven o’clock. When I woke up at two in the morning, she still wasn’t home. I wasn’t worried at the time, but I didn’t sleep well after that. About five o’clock I gave her a call.” He dropped his head. “She didn’t answer. I’ve been on the phone ever since trying to track her down. When the principal called me awhile ago I feared the worst.”
Hank remained quiet, unsure what to say.
Teddy looked up. “Where’s my wife now?”
“They’ve taken her to the city morgue.” Hank hated to say that. It always sounded so cold. He added, “The medical examiner will inspect her, but the cause of death is clear.” Teddy looked distraught, so Hank added, “Your wife’s body is in good hands, Mr. White. She’ll be treated respectfully.”
The man’s lower lip trembled, his voice now shaking. “Do you know who did this?”
Hank tightened his lips and shook his head. “Not yet. We’ll do all we can. We have some leads and expect to find the person shortly.”
A tear escaped and rolled down the man’s face. He brushed it away and cleared his throat, his eyes roving unseeing around the office. Finally, he looked back at the detective and narrowed his eyes. “How could anyone do this?”
“That’s what we need to find out,” Hank said. “Do you have any idea at all who could be responsible?”
Teddy thought a moment, his head shaking slowly back and forth. “I can’t even begin to think who it might be. She had no enemies.” His voice broke again. “All she ever wanted to do was help people. Especially the students.” Another tear fell and was quickly brushed away.
Hank put a hand on Teddy’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.” He held his hand there awhile and then sat back and sighed.
“Are you sure it was intentional?” Teddy asked, his voice trembling.
Hank’s face was grim. “I believe so.” He paused. “It looks like she was run over perhaps two or three times.”
Teddy’s eyes widened and he took a sharp breath, a growing anger in his eyes. Then his brow wrinkled and he asked slowly, “Two or three times?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Teddy closed his eyes and dropped his head back. When he opened them again, he looked intently at Hank. “What can I do to help? I’ll do anything. Anything at all.”
“I’m afraid there’s nothing you can do,” Hank said. “Unless you can come up with a motive—a reason someone might want to kill your wife—there’s little else you can do.” He paused. “We’ll take care of it, Mr. White.”