She summarized for me. “Seven suspects altogether. If you discount the two of us, we’re left with Mike Bains, Chico Leeds, Fang Davidson, Kelly Quantz, and Earl Archman.”

We locked eyes.

Mrs. B adjusted her headscarf with unsteady hands. “Of course, one person may have killed Faith, and another is responsible for Sophie’s death.”

When I protested, Mrs. B shook her head. “I know, Bliss. I don’t believe that either. How could both deaths not be related?”

“The discovery of Faith’s bones could have been the trigger that led to Sophie’s murder, Mrs. B. She must have known something.”

“Have this last cookie, dear. If the old high school had been torn down years ago like it should have been, Faith’s body would have been discovered then. I wonder if timing has anything to do with the second death.”

“And I wonder if the police have the same list of suspects.”

“Maybe you can liaise with your young man and make sure he’s on the right track.”

A spray of shortbread crumbs flew from my mouth and landed on Mrs. Brickle’s newly-polished coffee table. I brushed them into my hand and glanced up at her. “My young man doesn’t want my help. He demands I stay as far away from his investigation as possible.”

“But you have a lot of information to share. You were there since the beginning, and you know all the suspects.”

“Yeah, well, let’s face it, Mrs. B. Like everyone else at the grad party except the chaperones, I was wasted. Tequila. Awful stuff. I can’t stand even the smell of it now. Actually, I wouldn’t have blamed the chaperones for taking a nip or two, just to get through the festivities. It must have been brutal for you.”

Mrs. Brickle sat back. Maybe she hadn’t realized the students were drunk that night, and I had shocked her.

Not a chance. She laughed. “Bliss, I have a vivid recollection of you crouching under the refreshment table. One of the other grads would hand you a glass of punch or a pop can and you topped it up from a bottle — tequila, it seems. We discussed keeping you all in the gymnasium until collected by your parents, but Earl Archman said he was unlocking the doors at midnight and he didn’t give a — well, never mind his exact words. Earl did take a few sips from his flask throughout the evening, as I recall. And you must remember Emily Czerneski. She was just a little bird of a woman, in her last year of teaching. She wouldn’t have been much help in a scuffle. She passed only a few years ago, the dear soul. Anyway, Earl opened the doors to the parking lot and the three of us stood well back while you all stampeded out.”

Her eyes took on a mistiness as she recalled the images from the past. “I never saw many of those students again.”

“Mrs. B. Do you remember Faith leaving with the rest of the crowd? If so, she must have come back later.”

Mrs. Brickle refocussed and looked at me. “I can’t say I remember her movements specifically. There was just a rush of bodies through the doorway.”

“Did anyone check the bathrooms closest to the gym? We had to go through the locker rooms to get to them.”

She sipped her cooling tea. “If I’m not mistaken, Earl went to the doors of both locker rooms and called out. It’s unlikely he would have gone into the girls’ locker room.”

“What happened next?”

“We waited while Kelly Quantz finished packing up his audio equipment. Then we turned off the lights in the gymnasium and Earl locked the doors behind us. No, wait!” She set her cup back in its saucer with a rattle. “He was going to lock the doors, but we remembered the decorating committee members were coming back in the morning to clean up and make sure the decorations were dropped off at the new school. That means …”

“We know that didn’t happen.” No point mentioning I was part of the decorating committee. I thought about choices; choices and consequences. If I had gone back into the school the next morning before the workmen boarded it up, would I have needed to use the washroom? Almost certainly. My stomach had been touch and go for days after that night. If I saw blood on the floor of the locker room, what would I have done? Certainly not opened all the lockers, not unless a trail of blood led to one in particular …

“Bliss. Are you feeling all right? Have some more tea, dear.”

“No, I’m fine, Mrs. B. So, we don’t know if Faith was killed and her body stuffed in the locker during the course of the evening or if she — and someone else— came back later.”

“I’m sorry I can’t remember more details.” She shook her head. “I’ll keep trying to recall more.”

Death had not been invited to graduation. But it had been there all the same, hiding in a corner, waiting for Faith.

CHAPTER

twenty-two

A light kick on Neil’s office door preceded Lavinia’s entrance with a tray of coffee and doughnuts. She knew he liked the glazed ones, and had included two of them on a plate with a couple of crullers.

“Whew!” She waved her hand in the air. “Open a window for a few minutes, why don’t you?” She slid the crime scene photos and reports to one side with an elbow and set the tray on Neil’s desk. “Too much testosterone in here.”

Neil pushed the plate toward Tony. He looked out his window. The snow had started up again, and the wind hurled sheets of it against the glass. “Maybe later. Thanks, you always know when I need coffee, Lavinia.”

“I’ll be out for a few minutes. We’re out of milk.” She gave them both a tolerant look and closed the door quietly behind her.

Tony snatched up both glazed doughnuts. “You got it made, man. Your own office, somebody to bring you coffee. The weather sucks here, but the snow must keep the crime statistics down.”

“Not so you’d notice. Are you forgetting we have two murders to solve?”

“We should catch a break if there’s only one killer involved.” He finished the doughnuts in three or four bites and eyed the crullers. “I hate those twisty things. How come you don’t have an investigator on the payroll? You’re the first chief I’ve run into who has to do all his own investigating. And where are your sergeants?”

Neil pushed the coffee tray to one corner of his desk and fanned the photos back out. “One investigator retired the same time as the former chief, just before I took over, and the second one a few months after. The Police Board has been dragging its feet over approving the release of funds to hire more. I’m without a sergeant for the same reason. There were three — one of them retired and the others transferred to Waterloo Regional. The board keeps promising to cough up the money for replacements. Now, hoist your ass off that chair and write this down.”

Tony sighed, but got to his feet and picked up a dry-erase marker. He flipped the whiteboard over to the blank side and waited.

“If we proceed on the assumption that we have one perpetrator, this is our list of suspects — Fang Davidson, Charles Leeds, Michael Bains, Earl Archman, Fern Brickle, Kelly Quantz. And Bliss Cornwall.”

Tony paused after writing Quantz’s name. “Are you serious? You want me to add Bliss’s name to the list of suspects? Your Bliss?”

“Humour me. I don’t consider Bliss a viable suspect, but we can’t leave her name off. Like the other six, she was in the old high school the night Faith disappeared.” When Tony opened his mouth, Neil added, “Let’s assume Faith died that night.”

Tony shrugged and wrote Bliss’s name down.

A burst of raucous laughter reached them from the squad room. After it died away, Neil continued. “Sophie Quantz was killed because Faith died fifteen years ago. We need to find out what the connection is.”

Tony helped himself to the last cruller. “All the kids were drunk and there are only two of the chaperones left: Archman and Brickle. Have you talked to either one?” He shoved the doughnut into his mouth and washed it down with coffee.