“I hate to be indelicate,” Jude said, “but how did you know the baby was yours and not her husband’s?”
“Greg had leukemia as a child and was sterile as a result. There was no way he could have fathered Marie’s child, and he knew it. He showed up at the school the day Marie died. Charged at me like a raging bull, shouting to stay away from Marie. I argued with him in the parking lot for nearly half an hour. He finally calmed down when other members of the teaching staff started arriving. Instead of yelling, Greg begged me to leave Marie alone. To let them raise the baby together and find some happiness. I was about to tell him to just sign the damn divorce papers, but that was when the screaming started from inside the school.”
“Marie’s body had been discovered.” Ronan shivered. He couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for the janitor to have stumbled on such a gory scene.
Whittaker nodded. “It was pandemonium after that. The police were called. School was canceled for the day. I sat on a bench outside the main office and watched the police and the medical examiner do their jobs until they wheeled Marie out in a body bag. I went home after that. Sheila was waiting for me. Her hair was wet from a recent shower, and she was wearing different clothes than what she’d had on when I left for work that morning.”
“Holy Jesus,Sheilakilled Marie?” Ronan asked. Whoever killed the teacher would have gotten blood on themselves and would have needed to wash it off their skin and clothes.
“Yes. Sitting on the kitchen table in front of her was a torn-open envelope and a single sheet of paper. I knew it was the love note I’d left for Marie the night before. The only way Sheila could have had it in her possession was if she’d been in the classroom that morning.”
“Why didn’t you call the police?” Jude asked.
“I tried to, but my wife came at me with a kitchen knife.” Whittaker rolled up his sleeve to show a long and jagged white scar on the underside of his left arm. “I dropped the phone and wrapped a towel around the wound. Sheila told me that if I contacted the police, she’d tell them I was the one who killed Marie and would point to the cut as proof, saying I’d somehow cut myself in the frenzy of the attack. I agreed not to call the cops, and Sheila stitched me up with a needle and thread from her sewing basket.”
“That’s one hell of a story.” Ronan had no doubt it was true but turned to Ten anyway. His husband nodded. Whittaker was telling the truth.
“Where’s Sheila now?” Jude asked.
“Rotting in hell. She divorced me six months after Marie died to run off with her divorce lawyer. They settled in Austin. She sent me a letter every year on the anniversary of Marie’s murder, telling me how wonderful her life was. The last letter I got was in 1995. It was her obituary cut from the newspaper. There was no note or return address, but the postmark was from Texas. I assumed it was her husband letting me know my torment was over.”
Ronan sat with the story for a few moments. The half-a-century-old murder of Marie Fairbanks was finally solved. He didn’t know what to say.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Whittaker,” Tennyson said softly. “You lost everything.”
The old man nodded. “I focused on my career after Marie died. It was all I had left. After I retired, I joined the school board and kept fighting for students. It’s not the life I would have chosen for myself, but it’s the one I got. Docs tell me I’ve got six months. I’ve asked to be buried with Marie. Greg Fairbanks signed off on it, so we’ll be together for eternity.”
“Max, can you let us into the school?” Ten asked. “I’m hoping Marie will be able to speak with us now that we’ve solved her murder.”
“Absolutely. Let me pay the bill, and we’ll go now.” He pulled out his wallet and threw down some cash. “I’ll drop Joe at home, and I’ll meet you there.”
“No.” Whittaker slapped a hand on the table. I’m coming with you. If there’s a chance to speak with Marie again, I want to be there.”
“What do you think?” Max asked Ronan.
It was on the tip of Ronan’s tongue to ask what happened to Whittaker’s belief that all psychics were charlatans. Seeing the pain in his eyes, Ronan swallowed the comment. If he were in Whittaker’s shoes, he’d do everything in his power to reunite with his lost love too. “Let’s go.”
Ronan had to admit he’d never given Sheila a thought as Marie’s killer. He’d been so sure it had been either her husband or her lover. It turned out both men were innocent, and both had suffered tremendously over the years.
With the killer finally revealed, Ronan hoped both men, along with Marie, could finally find some peace.
18
Tennyson
As Fitzgibbon drove through town toward the elementary school, Ten was lost in his thoughts about Joseph Whittaker and his bizarre confession. He couldn’t imagine what it must have been like to know his wife tricked him into marrying her and then killed his lover. It was a plot almost too wild for a Hollywood movie. Ten had noticed something strange about the man from the start but had been unable to put his finger on what it was until this very minute.
“Earth to Tennyson,” Ronan said, poking his husband’s arm. He wore an amused look on his face.
“What?” Ten shook off his thoughts of Joseph Whittaker to focus on Ronan.
“I’ve been saying your name for two minutes. Where the hell were you?” Ronan wore a curious look.
“I was thinking about Whittaker.” Ten wasn’t sure how he would have handled things if he’d been in the principal’s shoes and was damn glad he’d never have to find out.
“I had a feeling. Look, I don’t mean to be an asshole”—Ronan waggled his eyebrows—“but how come you couldn’t tell Whittaker was innocent of the murder? Was he shielding his thoughts?”
“That’s what I was thinking about just now.” Ten took a deep breath and tried to order his thoughts. “In all my years with this gift, I’ve never encountered anyone like him before.”
