Rebecca Winters: My Private Detective

Six years of teaching had taught her to present new geography units to her ninth-graders on Thursdays. That way, the kids who thought the weekend started on Friday morning couldn’t use the excuse that they’d missed the initial presentation. But she’d had to make an exception and stay home yesterday because Dana’s problems had superceded anything else.

Now that fourth term of the school year had started, it was time to cover the Middle East, an area so foreign to most of her students they had no clue it wasn’t another neighborhood in San Diego.

Her classes included a pretty-equal mix of Asian, African-American, Hispanic and white students. Her goal was that by the time school was out, they could each, on a map of the world, place the oceans, continents, countries and major cities.

After she’d unlocked the door to her room, the first thing she noticed was the writing on the front board.

Rule 1. Never assume anything!

She frowned. The information she’d put on the board for the substitute had been erased. Why?

She glanced at her books and papers, which had been rearranged on top of her desk. That was odd. All the substitutes who’d ever taught for her had always left everything exactly as they’d found it.

Wondering what was going on, she rang the office, using the switch on the wall behind her desk. One of the secretaries answered.

“This is Sheila. What can I do for you?”

“Hi, Sheila. It’s Heidi. You wouldn’t happen to know who subbed for me yesterday, would you?”

“Yes. That huge teachers’ seminar in the district drained all the subs, so different teachers from our building took your classes on their free periods and let the kids do any homework they wanted. Is there a problem?”

“No, I was just surprised that my lesson plan was erased from the board.”

“That’s probably because the community school just started their adult classes. Mr. Johnson arranged the schedule. He’s put someone in your room on Wednesday and Friday nights from seven to eight-thirty. Just a sec and I’ll see who it is.

“Okay—found it. The teacher’s name is Mcfarlane. According to this, the class is an introduction to criminology.”

Criminology?

Her heart gave a strange thud.

“If you don’t want him in there, I’ll ask another teacher.”

“No! No—don’t do that!” Please, don’t do that. Maybe this is the answer to my prayers. “I’d forgotten about community school.” All the teachers had to take turns sharing their rooms.

“You’re sure it’s okay?”

“Positive.”

“Mr. Johnson says that if any of you have complaints, you should put a note in his box and he’ll talk to the person. They’ve been told to leave the rooms exactly as they find them. If you’re missing anything, I’ll send a student aide with the supplies you need.”

“Thanks, Sheila, but I’m fine. I just had to make sure I didn’t have a bunch of gremlins in here.”

The other woman snorted inelegantly. “Sometimes adults are worse than the kids.”

They both chuckled, but in reality it wasn’t very funny.

“Sheila, will you ask one of your aides to get me a list of the teachers who watched my classes yesterday? I want to thank them.”

“Sure thing.”

“Talk to you later.”

She shut off the switch, then wrote an outline of the material to be covered in the Middle East unit on the board. But the entire time she was writing, her mind dwelled on the words she’d just erased.

Rule 1. Never assume anything!

Heidi’s thoughts went back to that excruciatingly painful day in late August when she’d learned the dreadful news. Based on circumstantial evidence, the jury had assumed Dana was guilty of first-degree murder. The judge gave her a thirty-year prison sentence for killing Amy.

Ever since Heidi had found out that her friend had been convicted of a crime she didn’t commit, the joy had gone out of her life. Many times since that day, Heidi had talked with Dana’s parents about getting the case reopened, but there’d been no new evidence. Mr. Cobb’s hands were tied. Now Dana herself had lost all hope.

Heidi couldn’t blame her or her parents for feeling so utterly defeated. That was why someone outside the Turner family had to pursue other avenues for them. Heidi was that person.

She frequently wished she was an attorney who had the legal know-how to begin an investigation of her own. She’d give anything to find evidence that would prove her friend’s innocence.

If that criminology class could be of any help at all…

By the time she realized how far her tortured thoughts had wandered, the second bell had rung, and the student-body officers had already started announcements over the PA system.

“Hi, everybody. We want to congratulate our girls’ volleyball team for their great win yesterday against Clairemont. Way to go, Mesa! Let’s all get out and support our girls next week for their big game against Torrey Pines.

“This next announcement concerns the social-studies service project scheduled for today. Those students whose last names start with A to M, will go this morning. The buses will be outside the building in fifteen meetings. Teachers, please take attendance. We’ll call the students down when it’s time to board.”

That announcement affected about a third of Heidi’s class. She’d already signed all their permission slips to help plant trees at a new senior citizens’ facility. Unfortunately she’d forgotten.

If truth be known, she’d forgotten a lot of things. After her talk with Dana last Sunday, she’d come back so weighed down with pain for her friend it had been difficult to concentrate or feel enthusiasm for anything.

After the announcements Heidi said, “Good morning, students. Those of you leaving on the bus will have just enough time to copy the material from the board. No one is exempt from tonight’s assignment, so let’s get busy.”

The class moaned, but they knew she meant business and settled down to work. All the while they were writing, Heidi’s mind was on her friend. No matter how many times she tried to put herself in Dana’s place, she couldn’t.

The more she thought about it, the more she felt it would be worth attending the night class in criminology that was being held in her room. At least it was a place to start, to ask questions. Heidi didn’t know how much longer she could stand to watch her friend waste away. Especially with the real murderer still out there.

Six hours later she locked the door to her room and hurried through the crowded halls to the community-education office. Larry Johnson’s secretary was still at her desk.

“Carol?”

The other woman looked up and smiled. “Hello, stranger. Haven’t seen you since the Christmas party when you were with that medical student you were dating. I heard it was pretty serious.”

“I thought he might be the one, Carol, but it didn’t work out.”

Jeff Madsen hadn’t been able to handle Heidi’s preoccupation with Dana’s murder case. Maybe it was too much to ask of a man who was overwhelmed with studies and hospital rotations. In any event, the meaning went out of their relationship. He stopped calling as often. She stopped caring. One day she woke up and realized it was over.

“Well, you know what they say—you’re lucky to have escaped a situation that wasn’t meant to be. I went through your experience several times before I got married. Mark my words. Some terrific guy is still out there searching for you.”

“I hope.” The breakup with Jeff had taken its toll. But even worse was Dana’s imprisonment, which had robbed Heidi of any potential for happiness.

“With your looks, are you kidding?”

“It’s nice of you to say that, Carol.”