Grand, Death, Auto by Joanna Campbell Slan

Author:Joanna Campbell Slan [Slan, Joanna Campbell]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Spot On Publishing
Published: 2019-09-13T04:00:00+00:00

25

Detweiler was waiting for me at the end of the day. He’d driven his father’s blue Ford pickup truck. The minute I climbed in, I told him about the portfolios. “That stinks,” he said. “Someone in administration had to approve Mrs. Eowin’s lesson plan. We need to find the person who did that. Sounds to me like you were set-up. You would have been blamed when the kids didn’t graduate.”

“What if Oleander hadn’t said anything?” I agreed. “Can you imagine? Are we going to grab something to eat? I’m starved.”

My last two classes of the day had been easy. The students were sophomores and juniors. They were happy to spend an hour learning to make trash journals. I got the impression that my classes provided a welcome stress release for the kids.

“John’s meeting us at the Flying Horse Truck Stop,” Detweiler said. “I figured you’d be hungry after a long day at school. The kids always are.”

Entering the truck stop building, we quickly found John. He was sitting in a booth against the back wall. A waitress wearing a name badge that said, “Iola,” stopped by to take our drink orders. She looked like an Iola. She was a cheerful bleached blonde with dark roots, and a gap between her front teeth. Iola wore blue jean cut-offs. Her britches were so short that the lining of the pockets stuck out below the hem. Her tee shirt said, “SuperSTAR” in gold foil letters. If it hadn’t been for the change pouch she wore tied around her waist, you would have thought she was a patron of this fine establishment rather than a server.

I liked her immediately. She had spunk.

Sitting in the back of the restaurant gave us the chance to spot anyone walking in. As long as we kept an eye on the front doors, there was very little chance of someone surprising us. I told John what I’d learned from Oleander about the senior portfolios.

“That’s weird,” said John. “Didn’t Mr. Rusk have to approve the lesson plans before Mrs. Eowin left? That’s how they usually do it.”

Detweiler gave a loud huff of disapproval. “We wondered who was in charge of approving the lesson plan. You say it’s Rusk?”

John nodded. “I’m 99% sure.”

“Mr. Rusk must have wanted me to fail. And fail spectacularly,” I said. I had ordered a cup of hot tea and a lemon poppy seed muffin, and the men asked for coffee. Iola cheerfully brought us the drinks and my food.

“In a weird way, it makes sense.” John fiddled with his plastic stirrer. “I bet that Mr. Rusk hoped a scandal over the portfolios would turn attention away from the suicides. See? It’s twisted logic, but logic after all.”

Detweiler sighed. “I’m not sure if that makes him a viable suspect for the suicides. A sneak, yes. A sociopath? No.”

“He has no moral fiber,” John confirmed. “Mr. Rusk accused Luke of keying his car. There was no proof, but Mr. Rusk insisted that my brother was responsible so he expelled Luke for a week.

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