Kent Conwell - Tony Boudreaux 06 - Extracurricular Murder

Kent Conwell - Tony Boudreaux 06 - Extracurricular Murder by Kent Conwell Read Free Book Online

Book: Kent Conwell - Tony Boudreaux 06 - Extracurricular Murder by Kent Conwell Read Free Book Online
Authors: Kent Conwell
Tags: Mystery: Thriller - P.I. - Texas
“One
more question, Mr. Weems.”
    A look of impatience flickered across his face. “Go on “
    “Did Holderman have any enemies that you know of?”
    I saw a flash of something in his eyes that he covered so quickly I couldn’t tell if it were surprise or alarm. His reply was
hasty and sharp, almost defensive. “Everyone has enemies, Mr.
Boudreaux.”

    I glanced around the room, looking for a subject to calm
whatever distress he seemed to be experiencing. My gaze
stopped on his camera. “You’re a camera buff, huh?”
    The tension evaporated instantly. He grinned up at me.
“Yeah. I take a lot of the sports pictures for the school paper
and the annual. You know anything about photography?”
    “Not a bit.” I pulled out my notepad and a pen. “Do me a
favor. If you don’t mind, jot down your name and telephone
number right under Kim’s in case I need to contact you.” I
handed him the pad and pen, which he took with his left hand.
    I watched with a mixture of elation and confusion as he
wrote his name and number with his left hand.
    “Here you go.” He handed me the pad and pen.
    “Thanks.” I reached for the door. “Well, look, I appreciate
the time, Mr. Weems. That’s all I needed to know. I enjoyed the
visit.”
    “Me too.”
    He looked to me like a good teacher. But something about
him bothered me, something besides the left hand. I tried to
dismiss it, figuring I was simply uncomfortable because he was
handicapped.
    After I left his room, I ducked into the boys’ restroom. There
were no handicapped stalls. I surveyed the room for several
seconds, remembering his remark that he had just come out of
the restroom when Perry Jacobs reached the bottom of the
stairs. “Maybe he just washed his hands,” I muttered, shaking
my head at my own bad luck. Here I’d found a left-hander, but
the only problem was he couldn’t have possibly climbed the
stairs.
    Unless he was faking his condition.

     

On the way to the counselors’ office, I stepped outside and
called Stewart again. Still no answer. I was growing concerned.
    Perry Jacobs was waiting in the counselors’ office when I
returned. He was about fifty pounds overweight with a flabby
face that had once been square. His blond hair was thinning,
and his eyes were sad, the brows turned down. He had reached
that time in some men’s lives when everything sags, his face,
his shoulders, his belly, and his dreams. He rose to meet me,
hand extended. I apologized for keeping him.
    “No problem. I just got here. What’s this all about?” He eyed
me warily.
    I led the way into the ARD room and closed the door behind
us. “No big deal, Mr. Jacobs.” We sat, and I filled him in on my
reason for being there. “So, you see, I’m just going back over
information you’ve already supplied the police.”
    Instant anger flared in his face. His thick brows met at the
bridge of his nose. “I bet,” he retorted. He jabbed a finger at
me. “You know why Holderman’s wife, the little witch, came
to you?” His flaccid face was florid with resentment and rage.
    Before I could yes, no, or maybe, he continued. “She’s trying to dump the blame on anyone except her.” He turned to leave. “I’m not staying in here and let some cheap private
investigator make me the scapegoat in this thing.”

    I always expect defensive displays from suspects, but the
intensity he exhibited surprised me. I remained seated, hoping
to appear calm and unshaken by his diatribe. “Fine with me,
Mr. Jacobs. But, understand this. The Safford police gave me
permission to open this case again. I figure they’ll be curious as
to why you don’t want to cooperate.” I crossed my arms over
my chest and stared up at him. “Especially if you don’t have
anything to hide.”
    His lips were drawn tightly over clenched teeth. I could
almost see the wheels turning in his head.
    I gave him a little nudge. “Believe me, I’m accusing no one,

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