Free An Indecent Death by David Anderson Page B

Callaghan.”
    “And don’t forget Douglas Madsen. And Pierre Pepin. And Greg Parent,” Lori added. “And the Bitchin’ Crew.” She said this with a smile.
    “No, we can’t rule out any of those people yet,” Drumm agreed. “Not until we talk to them. So that needs to be our next priority.”
    “What about Lynnette Cranston?” asked Karl. “She has no alibi. It’s just possible she killed her out of jealousy.”
    “It wasn’t her,” Lori said positively.
    “You don’t know that,” said Wesson.
    “No, you’re right, I don’t know that,” said Lori. “But all the same, it wasn’t her.”
    Drumm looked at her. “Maybe you got too close to her in your interview, Lori. Karl’s right, she has to be a suspect. But we are going to concentrate on these other people for the time being. So here’s what we’ll do. Lori, get over to The Fit Life and see what you can find out. Noonan and Lynnette Cranston were regulars there, so there are likely a number of people who know them. See how the two women acted when they were there, who noticed them, that kind of thing.”
    “Fine. And what about you?”
    Drumm smiled. “Karl and I are going to pay a visit to the cranky Mr. Gregory Parent.”
     
    Greg Parent lived in a small house on a dead-end street with many similar-looking homes. The lawn needed mowing, the few gardens that there were badly needed weeding and there were pieces of what looked like car parts strewn about the property. A rusty Jeep Cherokee sat on the crumbling, oil-stained driveway.
    Drumm was in an irritable mood. There was nothing specific causing it, it was just a whole series of things. He hadn’t slept well, his neck was sore and he’d cut his lip shaving, which he absolutely hated doing, and his mind kept wandering. It was Emily he was thinking about rather than the case, and that wouldn’t do.
    Parent answered their knock wearing blue track pants and a green Roots sweatshirt. He had several days’ worth of stubble on his face, unwashed wiry black hair and he appeared to be hung over. “Yeah?”
    Wesson showed his badge through the screen. “Karl Wesson, York Police Services. We need to talk to you about the death of your daughter’s teacher, Sarah Noonan. May we come in?”
    “I don’t know nothin’ about that,” Parent said. He started to close the door.
    Drumm opened the screen door quickly and put his foot across the threshold, preventing Parent from shutting the door. “You can talk to us here or we can haul your ass down to the station. Which do you prefer?”
    Parent slowly opened up again, eyeing Drumm warily. Then he waved them in and led the way past the kitchen into a dark and rather untidy living room. Drumm could see counters covered with dirty plates and pots and numerous beer bottles as they went by. Parent gestured to them to be seated, sitting himself in a grubby Lazy Boy armchair. The two detectives sat on opposite ends of a couch, facing Parent.
    Drumm began. “I’m Detective Sergeant Nicholas Drumm, Violent Crimes Unit. We’re investigating the murder of Sarah Noonan. She was your daughter’s teacher, correct?”
    “Yeah, and about thirty other kids as well. You gonna interview all of them?”
    “Depends, Mr. Parent.” Drumm stared at him.
    “Depends on what?”
    “On how many of them pounded on the principal’s desk and yelled at her.”
    Parent took in what he had heard, then laughed. “Oh, so that’s why you’re here! For God’s sake. The woman was a cow. She deserved to be yelled at. Worst excuse for a teacher I ever seen.”
    Wesson said, “From all we’ve heard, she was a good teacher and well-liked by her students. What was your problem with her?”
    Parent switched his attention to Karl Wesson. “ My problem? She picked on Chelsea. She did it all the time, centred her out in class, embarrassed her. I told her a couple of times to cut it out but she kept it up. So, the last time, I told her if it didn’t stop, I’d have to take it