The Silent Boy (Emma McPherson Book 1) by A.J. Flynn (early reader books .txt) 📗

for it, I suppose. I’d talked to his other teachers and they all seemed to be having the same trouble. Mr. Hardwood, the music instructor, in particular.”

“I just met with Mr. Hardwood, along with his other teachers, this morning, but I didn’t have very much time to get to know them.”

Nerdelbaum’s face brightened. “Mr. Hardwood is a very dedicated man, Lieutenant. Fortunately for him, though, and I don’t mean to sound envious, his wife has an income that allows him to further his education and attend courses that the rest of us are forced to forego. If ever a man deserved it though, it’s Mr. Hardwood. He’s a born teacher.”

“I’m sure he’s very competent. Would you say that he gets along well with his pupils?”

The science teacher smiled ruefully. “Well, I’ll say this much: he’s a perfectionist, and very few people are perfect. There have been one or two misunderstandings, but those who really know him know he drives himself twice as hard as anyone else.”

“Then there are those who don’t care for him?”

“Lieutenant, of course there are always some people who aren’t akin to others. In the case of Mr. Hardwood, he never did anything to win the friendship of those who disliked him.”

“I see,” McPherson answered. “I also spoke to two young ladies, named Preacher and Powell, and to a Mrs. Helen. What about them?”

Nerdelbaum wrinkled his nose. “How the Powell woman ever got her degree, I don’t know. One thing I’m sure of is it couldn’t have been on merit. The only interest she takes in her job is that it will feed her until she can find herself a wealthy husband. The same is almost true for Miss Preacher, except she doesn’t spend quite as much time primping. To give a woman like that a license to teach such an exact science as mathematics is borderline criminal.”

“I see—“ McPherson tried to interrupt, but the man wasn’t to be stopped.

“The Powell woman is supposed to introduce her students to the wonders of literature. Literature, indeed! I’ve often wondered if her courses weren’t made up solely of true confessions. The woman is an incurable romantic if I ever saw one. As for Mrs. Helen, she’s only working until her and her husband are able to pay off their house. It’s criminal, I tell you. Any one of the three could just as easily accomplish their goal by working in a factory. Then they wouldn’t be able to endanger the minds of our young people,” he finished bitterly.

It was obvious that female teachers were a sore point for this man, if not an actual prejudice, and McPherson saw no use in pursuing the interview any further, so she rose to her feet. “Well, I guess that’s it. Were you home Tuesday evening?”

“Yes. That was when my cold was at its height. Every joint ached, and I had a headache the likes of which I can never recall having before.”

“I appreciate you troubling yourself to talk to me when you’re not feeling well, Mr. Nerdelbaum, and if you can think of anything else that might help, I’d appreciate you calling me.”

They walked into the hallway, where McPherson retrieved her coat.

“Tell your mother we won’t be bothering her anymore unless it’s necessary, and thank you again.”

“Good-bye, Lieutenant, and don’t worry about Mother. She’s getting older, and frankly she isn’t the easiest person to live with.”

That was easy enough to believe, for even though she hadn’t made an appearance, her presence still lingered via the still and rather uncomfortable atmosphere of the house.

Taylor was deep in the novel he’d bought during lunch.

“Haven’t we got enough intrigue around, without you spending your naptime reading about it?”

Taylor grinned. “We never meet the class of people these guys do. Schoolteachers. You spend your whole day talking to schoolteachers, and you know what? In this book the girl is only two chapters in and she’s been seduced twice, once by a dark passionate stranger, and another time by her blonde neighbor. How long has it been since you’ve been seduced, Lieutenant?”

McPherson glared at him.

XIII

It had been a long day for Ella Shepherd, but then some days were like that. She usually had her time committed one or two weeks in advance, and sometimes there weren’t enough hours in the day to accomplish everything she would have liked to, but then there were days like this. Days when all the things she’d been working on were finally completed, and the things she had planned would begin tomorrow.

Most of the clubs and committees she served on bored her to death. There were many times where she thought if she was forced to hear someone plead for another worthy cause, she might puke, but at least it was something for her to do. She’d seen widows who devoted all of their time to being widows, and she didn’t have any intention of following their lead. “Social justice warrior,” was the title she had bestowed upon herself, and even if it left something to be desired, it was better than chronic mourning.

Being married to Larry Shepherd had been the kind of thing all women dream of but few ever get to experience. Their life had been filled with happiness, friendship, and a deep passion built on love and mutual respect.

It had been more than ten years since she had lost him while traveling on a mountain climbing expedition, but his memory was as vivid to her as if he’d been home the day before.

When he’d been reported as lost, she hadn’t been unduly frightened. He had been an outdoor man since he was a boy, and she was sure that, even though he had been reported as lost, he was more than capable of taking care of himself. After three days of searching they finally found him. He had been swept up in a small avalanche, during which he had suffered from an extensive head injury. Apparently, he had frozen to death while unconscious.

Ella had