Thomas Craig: The Outkast

Ed was the security guard at the Junior High. He had claimed vehemently that he didn’t see any strange visitor come into the school premises, and that such would have been impossible, anyway, since he was doing a thorough watch of the entire school. His report reeked of discrepancy. He’d been in custody since Trevor Carter’s murder.

“Yes,” Brian said. “He’s running a different version of his story now. He wasn’t telling the truth before.”

“Doesn’t come as a surprise at all. I’ve been suspicious of him all along. The way he acts and looks… oh, boy-it tells me something’s crooked about that man.”

Brian cleared his throat. “Well, just for clarification-he certainly didn’t bend the story to cover up his murderous act or anything like that, but rather to conceal his irresponsibility at work. He later confessed that an old bum was roaming the vicinity of the school earlier that morning. A bum by the name Jeremiah Blair.”

Mrs. Wilson laughed. “JB?” she said. “JB’s been roaming the vicinity every single day for the past ten years that I’ve been teaching at the school. Plus he could barely hold his own in a fight with a ten-year-old girl. He’s so wasted it’s a miracle he hasn’t kicked the bucket all these years. So, what’s Ed insinuating?”

“Well, I suppose not a lot. Perhaps he was just trying to atone for his sin, the sin of keeping information back. Trying to come clean at last. Adequate interrogation has already exonerated Jeremiah, even though he came inside the school premises at some point that morning, panhandling from kids. But the point is, keeping anything back-however irrelevant or insignificant it might look-during the investigation of a case is a serious offense.”

Mrs. Wilson sipped her coffee. “I agree with you on that, Sheriff. That’s still pretty cunning, not telling it all.”

“Yes, it is.” Brian forked a big chunk of apple cake into his mouth.

“I don’t mean to pry, Sheriff,” Mrs. Wilson said, “but I was wondering if there’s any development on Robert’s reports so far.”

Brian tried to work on the cake in his mouth as fast as he could in order to create an unimpeded passage for air. His voice still sounded throaty when he spoke. “As a matter of fact, yes. The strands of hair collected at the scene belonged to Robert. The final DNA reports of the blood samples is still underway. Might not have the concluding part till Thursday or Friday-unless a miracle occurs. Tardiness, you see, is the chief bane of small-town investigation.”

“Ah, I see,” Mrs. Wilson said, and suddenly digressed, yapping about Trevor Carter. Brian let her, seizing that opportunity to finish his cake as he listened. “God, I still feel sick each time I picture Mr. Carter lying on the floor with blood on his neck. And that innocent smile of his. Oh, he guarded it so much he had to carry it to the grave with him. Just couldn’t leave it behind and let some scumbags trample on it. That was Mr. Carter for you-always exhaustive in whatever he did. And needless to say he remained his happy self, even to the very morning of his death. He wasn’t at all like the commander-in-chief of the grumpy people.”

All along, Brian was nodding and nodding as he chewed and savored and swallowed. “And who’s that?” he said at last, pushing the empty dessert plate aside.

“Donnie Murphy, of course. He’s one of a kind.”

“Any clue why?”

“Why he’s habitually grumpy?”

“Yes.”

Mrs. Wilson shook her head. “It’s the same question we’ve all been asking. Wish somebody would find out.” She shoved further into her seat. “But then again, who cares? Let him be grumpy like a woman going through a perpetual period. I wouldn’t give a hoot about a mean man like him, anyway.”

“Does he direct his mean attitude towards teachers alone?”

“Everyone. Teachers, students. Even so many people in Ogre’s Pond will testify.” She paused, frowned, and said, “I can’t believe you didn’t know this. There’s hardly a single soul in Ogre’s Pond who’s not aware of Donnie’s annoying personality.”

Brian shrugged. “I guess there’ll be a huge shakeup now that he’s in charge-at least, for the length of time he’ll be acting as the principal, if he doesn’t end up holding the office permanently.”

“Oh, yeah. A huge shakeup for the worse.”

“Or for the better.”

“Maybe some parents will have to withdraw their kids from the school.” Mrs. Wilson laughed. “And Robert won’t have to deal with his brutality anymore, since the kid will likely be taken away soon.” Then, she stopped abruptly.

Brian sensed she had slipped into her zone of discomfort. She probably didn’t want to let out that piece of information. Not that much. Or perhaps Brian’s hunch was wrong. At any rate, he pursued it. “Brutality?”

“What?”

“Did you say Donnie maltreats Robert?”

“Yes, he does.”

“Tell me more.”

“Trevor was a good man,” Brad said, adjusting his hearing-aid device, “especially in the business of the school. Very loved by teachers and students alike. I think that helped a great deal in hiding the other aspect of him, which was the way he treated Robert.”

“Mrs. Wilson never said a thing about the principal bullying the kid,” Brian said. “Even though I tried really hard to extract the truth from her. She only focused her revelation on Donnie.”

“Well, like I’ve stated, Mr. Carter’s good personality was strong enough to mask the other side of him,” Brad said.

“I had a chat with Donnie himself a few days ago, trying to pry some facts out of him.”

“And what did he offer?”

“Nothing useful. He denied ever noticing the boy being maltreated by fellow students, let alone fessing up to his own hostile disposition towards the boy. He made no mention of the deceased man’s role, either.”

Brad blinked. “I don’t suppose you have a notion I made this up, Sheriff, do you?”

“Oh, not at all,” Brian said.

“Good,” Brad said. “Because even the boy’s mother is aware of this. I contacted her about it once, though I warned her not to mention my name if she decided to lodge a complaint. She did nothing about it. And you would’ve thought she would be eager to deal with the situation, wouldn’t you?”

“That’s what one would have expected. But she was probably thinking of you-of not wanting to get you involved and end up getting you in trouble.”

“She doesn’t have to mention me. How would anyone have known about me if she’d pursued the issue?”

“Words have their own ways of bursting out, however hard we try to keep them secretive. That’s just my take on it.”

Brad shrugged. He made his next comment as if he wasn’t following Brian’s line of thought about the probable reason for the woman’s inaction. “I don’t understand her at all.”

Sheriff Stack steered the conversation forward. “So, for how long has this been going on? The bullying, that is?”

“Since the first day Robert set his feet on the soil of the school. I gotta tell you one thing, though. The boy’s a little weird.”

“Weird in what sense?”

“Stories, Sheriff. An overdose of horror stories. And at his age, I think it’s a little outlandish to have such a thing going for him.”

“I’ve got that info as well,” Brian said. “Is that it?”

Brad appeared puzzled. “Is what what?

“Is that everything weird about the boy?”

“Well, yeah. With the strange pictures he used to bring to school. Kinda creepy, and that’s not just my opinion,” Brad said. “It’s what everyone thinks.”