A Bloodhound to Die for (5 page)

I placed my ear at the crack and heard nothing. I waited a few seconds and repeated my message.

I glanced at my watch. Ten of my forty minutes were gone. What could they be doing in there? I agonized again over how many parents and children were inside with Sara, her bloodhound, her bridegroom, and his paramour.

I was undecided. Should I or shouldn’t I? I wasn’t getting anywhere standing outside the door. Surely Sara wouldn’t shoot me if I eased inside. No, I couldn’t count on Sara. She also wouldn’t walk into her husband’s classroom with a shotgun, but it seemed she had, so guessing what she would do was out the window.

I had to make a decision. Fray would be here soon and he would take over, and Hank and I would be shunted to the sidelines to stand and helplessly watch whatever unfolded.

There were faint noises coming from the street. Car motors running, an occasional horn, and some low murmurs from the restless crowd.

The almost silence began to gnaw at me. The halls, during school hours usually teeming with children’s voices and locker doors slamming, started feeling spooky. I found myself holding my breath so I could listen more intently.

I braced myself, took a deep breath, and pulled the doorknob and eased the cracked door open. I entered and silently closed the door before I turned around and looked into the room. The adrenaline was flooding my circulatory system nicely and I sucked in another deep breath before trusting my voice.

“Hello, Sara.”

  
5
“Would She or Wouldn’t She?”

T
he three major participants in this tragedy were up front, by Leon’s desk. Leon and Norma Jean were sitting with their legs crossed, their knees against the wall and their backs to the room. The blackboard was above them. They both turned their heads my way, and they looked scared to death. Their hands were folded in their laps and they sat like statues. After recognizing me, they swiveled their heads back in front of them and stared at the wall.

Sara was turned, facing the door, looking at me and slouching in Leon’s chair, the shotgun resting across her legs with her finger inside the trigger guard. Her face was pale, but otherwise she looked calm and exactly like she did when she tilted her head a little to
listen to my advice in the north field where I held my training class.

I took a quick glance to the left to see how many were in the room. They were clumped together in the right rear of the room, each in a seat with their arms folded. I counted a total of twelve. They were sitting very still but I could hear that some of them were sniffling, whimpering, and softly sobbing. I didn’t have time to see if I knew them or whether they were parents or students. I turned my gaze on Sara.

She smiled at me. “What are you doing here, Jo Beth? Have I got one of your relatives sitting back there?”

“No.” My voice was giving me trouble, and I coughed to cover my nervousness. “I came to help you.” I glanced down at Sherlock, who was curled in sleep. His lead was fastened to her chair.

“Why did you bring Sherlock?”

“I almost didn’t, but now I’m glad I did. If this family is breaking up, he should be on hand to see it, shouldn’t he?”

“He won’t understand, Sara. He’ll be scared if you shoot that gun. He hasn’t had any training under fire. We don’t need him here, so why don’t you let me call Jasmine? She’s just down the hall and can take him for a walk.” I forced a smile. “He probably has to pee by now.”

She laughed easily. “Is that why you’re here, to rescue Sherlock? You shouldn’t have bothered. He’s my dog now, and he goes where I say.”

“God, Sara,” I said sadly, “don’t be so selfish. I fed him a bottle by hand four times a day for over two weeks. Don’t you think I want him to live? You have twelve hostages sitting in the right rear of this classroom, your husband and his teaching assistant up front, sitting on the floor and facing the wall. No one knows why you’re doing this.”

I gave the head count and their positions for Hank, who hopefully was hearing every word.

“I came here tonight to celebrate the end of my honeymoon. It’s supposed to last a year, but mine didn’t quite make it, did it, darling?”

I swear her voice sounded normal, just like casual conversation among friends. I felt chill bumps lightly scamper up my arms. This lady I didn’t know. I had no idea what this one was capable of. She was too quiet and composed.

Leon turned his head to his left and licked his lips.

“Sara, honey, you have to believe me. I’m not having an affair. I swear to you, I don’t care what Myra told you, it’s not true. Please, please listen. I love you.”

“Leon, dear, if you turn your head and speak one more time, I will make you eat this shotgun barrel. Didn’t I make this perfectly clear?”

Leon had sounded sincere to me, but I guess if I were in his shoes, I’d be striving for an Oscar performance also.

Leon turned, facing the wall, and I heard muted sobbing. I wondered if he was telling the truth and all
the accusations were false. That would be a fine kettle of fish. I stole a glance at Norma Jean Tramore, who was sitting on the floor, to his right. Her eyes were closed and she looked frozen with shock. She wouldn’t be any help in this and I just prayed that she would remain as still as she was and not freak out.

“So,” I said, casually, “this is about something that someone named Myra told you? Is this Myra reliable? I don’t know about you, but I believed Leon, myself. He seems to love you very much.”

Now I could only pray that both of them would deny everything until we could get the shotgun out of her hands.

“Jo Beth, don’t tell me that you haven’t heard about Leon and Norma Jean and also about the baby.”

Something changed in her voice when she said the word “baby.” My heart beat a little faster and I sensed that this meeting was not going to end well.

Since Sara hadn’t moved the shotgun that rested across her legs, I glanced back at the hostages. I saw two men who could pose an immediate problem. They were gripping the small desks and eyeing each other.

I decided I better get the message to them loud and clear.

“No one in this room should move an inch,” I stressed, “until this dispute has been resolved. No, Sara, in answer to your question, I haven’t heard a word of gossip about you or your husband, Leon. What’s this about a baby? Surely you can’t believe this
nonsense! Norma Jean’s husband has been dead less than six months. Who is this Myra, anyway?”

“She’s my best friend, Jo Beth. Myra Steelman? You know her and her husband, Norman. She said everyone in town knew but me and that she couldn’t keep it a secret any longer, that I had to be told.”

“Then why isn’t she here by your side, helping you correct the matter?”

I bit my lip. I sounded too confrontational. The last thing I wanted to do was to get her moving toward a quick solution.

“I didn’t tell her what I was going to do. It didn’t cross my mind to invite her to come with me.”

It may have been my imagination but she sounded just a tiny bit hesitant. I had to jump in with both feet.

“Well, deep down, I bet you don’t feel she’s your best friend, or you would have,” I asserted. I didn’t know where this was going; I was winging it. I had passed the hostage-negotiation seminar rooms when I was walking down the hallways of the GBI academy on the way to the dog-handler seminar rooms. I was now wishing I had sat in on a couple or three.

“Let’s let the hostages decide,” I offered suddenly. “You wanted an audience to hear your accusations or you would have let them leave. How about it, do you want me to poll them for their answers? Let’s see who they believe, your husband or your best friend. I bet they haven’t heard any rumors about you and Leon either!”

I couldn’t have made it any clearer. I didn’t want anyone to admit that they had heard anything. Sara, still slouched, swung her chair around and seemed to notice them for the first time.

“No,” she said softly, “I don’t think so.”

“Why not? They’ve heard everything that has been said in here.”

“I don’t want to hear them speak. I may have to shoot them later.”

“Shoot them?” I choked out.

“Lady, I need—”

One of the two I was worried about had half-risen out of his chair and begun talking. Sara had pivoted in her chair and clasped the gun to her chest. I stared at her trigger finger with morbid fascination. He shut up when she started moving and eased back into his seat. I was a good twelve feet away and still saw the sweat pop out on his forehead. She finally lowered the gun back into her lap.

“Can I let Jasmine take Sherlock for a walk? She’ll bring him right back.”

Sara looked at her dog. “Wanna go out?”

I hoped that if I could get her to release someone, I would have a chance to get some others out. I started with Sherlock because I thought he would be the easiest.

Sherlock popped up like toast and started what I call the wiggle dance, twisting his body in anticipation

I was hovering over him, releasing his leash from the chair, before I realized I had moved. I rubbed his silken ears.

“I’ll just walk him to the door.”

It was hard to turn my back on her. At the doorway, I opened it only wide enough for Sherlock to pass through and handed the lead to the right. It was grabbed forcibly from my fingers and I saw Hank in a blur, reaching for my wrist. I jerked backward and quickly slammed the door and turned the lock.

When I turned to face Sara, I saw her smile.

“You love Sherlock, don’t you?”

She sounded so normal that my heart soared.

“You bet.” I grinned back at her. “Now let’s do this right. As of now, I’m your best friend through thick or thin. We’re gonna get rid of the bunch of onlookers in the back. Sara, these people are not interested in your dilemma. They’re frightened and want to go home and eat supper. We just need the four of us here to get to the bottom of these rumors that your so-called friend Myra told you.”

She seemed to be listening, but hadn’t indicated whether my plan met with her approval or whether she might start pulling the trigger.

“Everyone stand up slowly and form a line, children first. Don’t speak and don’t run.”

I raised my arms like I was gathering a choir to its feet. The group rose dutifully and a boy about sixteen

started forward. One of the men I had had my eye on previously reached out and drew the kid to his side. They both started forward.

I wished to God that I knew the position of Sara’s shotgun at that moment. I was afraid to look at her; it might make her do something foolish. Believe me, if I’d had a gun at that moment I would have been tempted to pull the trigger myself, on either an over-protective papa or a craven man who wanted out of here as quickly as possible—take your pick.

I felt I had to gain control quickly.

“Step to the end of the line, mister. I said children first.”

“I’m going with him,” he blustered.

We all heard a deadly sound. It beats all to hell and back the sound of a rattler singing in your ear. It was the quick ratchet of the shotgun as Sara primed the pump.

My heart stopped and I turned to face her. With twelve feet between us, she could cut down half of us with the first discharge. It didn’t matter if it was bird shot or double-aught buckshot. The pattern wouldn’t have time to spread in so short a distance.

“Do what Jo Beth said,” Sara stated calmly. The gun was up to her right shoulder. “Move to the rear of the line.”

The man stumbled backward, trying to put other bodies in her line of fire. I saw two more kids coming forward and beginning to form a line. I walked to the
first boy and started the slow march to the door. I didn’t look back.

Unlocking and cracking the door a few inches, I stood directly behind it and used my right hand to locate a shoulder and guide it through the small opening. I concentrated on counting as they disappeared from my vision. I knew hands were pulling them to safety but I didn’t know whose.

I had hold of the seventh shoulder when I heard an irate whisper in my right ear.

“You saved the damn hound before you did us!”

I turned and looked into the drawn features of Estelle Cully, who just this morning had booted me out of her boutique.
Just this morning? It now seemed eons ago
.

“Hurry up before I change my mind,” I said through gritted teeth as I put my hand in the small of her back and pushed. I received satisfaction from her surprised yelp as she was almost pulled off her feet by unseen hands.

When the twelfth person was out and I was bringing my arm inside to secure the lock, the door was bumped and I flung out a hand to steady myself. I was grabbed and went sailing out in the hall like I was on greased skids. I sprawled on my hands and knees before more hands pulled me erect and started hustling me around the corner.

“Let me go. I can get them out of there. Turn me loose!”

I was struggling with whoever was holding me. Since I could see Hank in front of me, I appealed to him.

“Let me go back. Please, Hank. I can talk her out, I know I can.”