Denise Swanson - Murder of a Royal Pain

Homer waved toward the woman and said, “This is our new social worker, Jacqueline Jennings. She completed her internship a year ago, and before that taught for eight years in New York. Due to an illness in her family last fall, this is her first job as a school social worker, but she has very impressive letters of recommendation.”

Skye’s first thought was, Wow! She sounds almost too good to be true. Her second was, Why didn’t anyone tell me that the district finally hired a social worker? Bad enough that none of the principals mentioned it to me, but for crying out loud, my own godfather is the president of the school board.

Realizing her silence could be taken as rudeness, Skye smiled at the woman and held out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Jacqueline. I’m Skye Denison, the psychologist.”

“Call me Jackie.” The woman’s grip was firm and dry. “Mr. Knapik has been telling me all about you.”

“Not all bad, I hope.” Skye glanced at Homer.

“No, of course not.” The woman chuckled. “In fact, he was quite complimentary. He made it sound like the school couldn’t run without you.”

“Really?” Skye was shocked. She thought Homer was oblivious to all the work she did. “I’m flattered.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Homer lumbered up from his desk, reminding Skye of a dancing bear. Not because of his shambling movements or his rotund shape, but because of the hair that enveloped him like a fur coat. His eyebrows looked as if two furry worms were mating on his forehead, wiry antennalike strands protruded from his ears, and a thick pelt covered his arms and hands. Tufts even poked out between the buttons of his shirt. “So you do your job. You want a medal?”

“Yes, please,” Skye teased, a little giddy from Homer’s praise.

He grunted, then said, “Jackie, as I told you while we were waiting for Her Highness to show up, Skye will introduce you around and go over your duties with you.”

“Wonderful.” Jackie stood and shook hands with him. “It’s an honor to work for you and with all your wonderful instructors.”

“Right.” Homer snorted. “You might as well know right now that’s not how it is here.”

“How what is?” Jackie’s tone was puzzled.

“Think of it this way. In some schools, teachers have affairs with their students. In Scumble River High, it’s a lot more likely they’d have contracts out on them.”

“I see.” Jackie’s laugh was forced. “Well, remember, I’m here to do anything you need me to do.”

Skye kept her expression bland. Anything he needs? Boy, is she opening herself up for trouble. Out loud she asked Homer, “Where’s Jackie’s office?”

“Same as yours.” He smirked. “You two have to share.”

Dang. Skye had been begging the district to employ a social worker for the past four years, and they had always claimed that they couldn’t find anyone who would take the job. She hadn’t realized that hiring someone would mean sharing her office. Skye had wrested it away from the coach/guidance counselor only two years ago.

Oops. She was being rude again, thinking instead of speaking. She hurriedly said, “Great. Well, then, I guess that’s it. Should I show Jackie around the elementary and junior high, too?”

“Got me.” Homer put a hand on each of their backs and propelled them toward the door. “Ask Caroline and Neva.”

Once they were out of the office area, Jackie said, “I take it Caroline and Neva are the other two principals?”

“Yes. Didn’t you get to meet them at your interview?”

“No.” Jackie chuckled. “I really didn’t have much of an interview. I faxed my résumé to the district last Tuesday, Dr. Wraige called me on Wednesday, I came in on Thursday, and he and Mr. Patukas offered me the job on the spot. They seemed a little surprised when I accepted.”

“Wow. I guess they’ve been telling me the truth all these years. They really were trying to hire a social worker. Any idea why no one else wanted the job?”

“Nope.” Jackie shrugged. “It was exactly what I was looking for.”

“Oh?”

“I needed to be closer to my mother. She lives in Clay Center. I moved to New York right after high school and have lived there ever since, but my father passed away recently and I’m an only child. So . . . ” She trailed off, gesturing her lack of choice with her hands.

“I’m so sorry for your loss. Is your mother ill?” Skye asked as she guided Jackie down the hall.

“No, just elderly and alone.”

“Well, we can sure use you.” Skye motioned around her. “This wing holds the classrooms for all our fine and practical arts. The other two wings hold math and science, and English and history, respectively. And, of course, the special-ed rooms are all in the back.”

“Why’s that?”

“You know.” Skye made a sardonic face. “It just seems that principals like to keep those kids as far from the office as possible. Of course, our job is to make sure that although they might be out of sight, they aren’t out of mind.”

“The special-ed students aren’t integrated into regular classes?”

“Most of the day they are, but nearly all the kids have at least one or two periods in the special-ed room,” Skye explained. “And the ones with more severe challenges are there most of the day.”

“I see.”

After they had finished touring the school, Skye ushered Jackie into their office. She flicked on the light switch, illuminating a ten-by-ten room painted an unusual shade of yellow. Skye’s beat-up desk, a trapezoidal table, a few chairs, and a half dozen file cabinets occupied the meager space. There were no windows, and the overhead fluorescents cast a greenish light.

Skye plopped down into her old leather chair and pushed aside the piles of papers and folders that were stacked a foot high on the desktop. She pointed to one of the two folding chairs facing her and said, “Welcome to your palatial office suite at Scumble River High. We’ll have to get the custodian to find a desk for you.”

Jackie remained standing, her gaze slowly sweeping the small, crowded area. “Where would we put it?”

“Maybe we can get some of these file cabinets moved. All but one is filled with guidance records that date back at least ten years, which means they should have been destroyed long ago.” Skye could read the other woman’s disappointment, and was a bit confused by it. She would expect a seasoned educator to be used to appalling conditions. Lack of space was a problem in most schools.

Jackie nodded, a frown on her round face. “Where are the social work records?”

Skye shrugged. “It’s been so long since we’ve had a social worker, there aren’t any separate records. I’ve been doing the histories and all the counseling, so everything is in one file.”

Jackie finally sat down, her expression determined. “Well, now that I’m here, that will all change.”

“Uh, right.” This was what Skye had wanted. She had been asking for help, and would be happy if she never had to take another social history, but something about this woman bothered her. Skye couldn’t put her finger on it, but Jackie seemed . . . familiar. “By the way, have we met before?”

“I doubt it.” She shook her head. “I’ve been back in the area for only a few weeks, and I’ve spent most of that time with my mother.”

Hmm. Skye was puzzled. Maybe Jackie seemed familiar because Skye and Jackie looked a lot alike. They were close in age and physical appearance—similar hair, eye color, and build. Although Skye would bet her next home-improvement loan payment that Jackie was wearing colored contacts and her hair wasn’t naturally that shade.