Free A Simple Suburban Murder by Mark Richard Zubro

ignored his comment and continued. "But I didn't quit teaching because of the money. I taught high school." She dragged deeply on her cigarette. "I loved kids. I think I really helped them. They used to come back and thank me for the help I'd given them. So why'd I quit? The cash was adequate. It was one of those rumor things. Someone—kids, teachers, parents—who knows—and it doesn't make much difference where it started—began to spread rumors about me. Eventually everybody knew I was a lesbian.
    "Then it got ugly. I got in a major fight with my department head. She hated it that kids liked me better. She threatened to tell the principal, superintendent, and school board that I was a lesbian if I wouldn't knuckle under. I laughed at her and dared her to do her worst. Then she threatened to say I seduced little girls. She laughed at me. She said she didn't need proof. A simple accusation like that would ruin my career.
    "I'll never forget the astonished look on her wrinkled old face when I belted her one. The punch broke her jaw. She sued. I agreed to quit if she dropped the case. She did, so I left."
    She lit another cigarette from the butt of the last one. "So what difference does that little story make? I guess it means I understand a teacher who cares, because I thought of myself as one. I'm going to help you."
    "Great," I said.
    "Don't get too excited. I'll help in that I'll tell Phil you've been looking for him. If he wants to see you, I'll set up an appointment. If not, forget it."
    "But you do know where he is?" Scott asked.
    She gave him a sour grimace. "Of course, or how could I tell him?"
    "You're not worried about the police?" I asked. "You're here. They're not. I assume that means you know something they don't. I assume in exchange for my little help you keep your mouths shut." We agreed.
    "Good, now I want you to leave my customers alone. Come back tomorrow afternoon around five. I'll have definite information."
    We got up to leave. "Thank you, Daphne," I said. She stubbed out the last of her chain-smoked cigarettes. "Daphne's my stage name. My real name is Janet Stewart." Outside the bar Scott put a hand on my arm and stopped me. "We've got to do something. She knows where the kid is."
    I scrunched deeper into my jacket against the biting wind that blew off Lake Michigan.
    "What could we do?" I asked him. "Call the cops."
    "We gave our word. Besides, she'd deny everything." "There were two of us. I'm a witness. She can't deny saying it."
    "I think she could, and get away with it. She's smart. She knows we want the kid. And she knows the cops around here. You can bet on that. We're amateurs. She's a pro. I doubt if we'd stand a chance."
    We stopped at Fullerton and Clark to wait for a walk signal.
    Scott asked abruptly, "What if she's lying?" "I don't picture that. She didn't have to admit anything to us, and she did. No, I don't see why she would." I shivered. "I think we should trust her for now. She trusted us. I'll give her the benefit of the doubt."
    "What if she really does know and something happens to the kid? We're partly responsible."
    "I'm open to suggestions, preferably in the warmth of your penthouse." It was too damn cold to be arguing in the middle of the sidewalk. "There's nothing we can do until tomorrow."
     
    * * *
     
    Sunday morning at eleven-thirty Neil called.
    "I've got some information for you," he said.
    "We found out some things too."
    "Me first, dear. I'm enjoying being detective. I must apologize for taking so long to get back to you, but mother was prying into many deep dark little closets. One can't be too careful in these matters. First the escort services. None of the reputable ones have, heard a thing about the kid."
    "Could they be holding out on you?"
    "Possible but not probable. Beyond these services there are several prominent call-boy groups, assorted pimps, and independents. I think the actual house of prostitution is somewhat anachronistic in this day and age. None