Schooled In Lies Page 10

  We kissed for a long time and clung to each other. It was like we couldn’t kiss deep enough or press close enough together. We kissed and shed clothes all the way to my bedroom. I lay down on the bed and pulled him on top of me. I reached between his legs and stroked his erection and guided him between my legs. One sudden hard thrust and he was deep inside me, causing me to shudder and cry out in pleasure that bordered on pain.

  We lay there not moving with him inside me for several long minutes then I flipped him over until I was straddling him and started riding him slowly, exquisitely slow, maddeningly slow. Slow is good. Soon we were both breathing heavily and sweating. I started to moan and he rolled me over onto my back, quickening his pace until I climaxed. Then he came and collapsed on top of me. It was the shrill chirp of the telephone that woke me later. I squinted at the clock as I reached for the cordless. It was close to midnight. I pressed the talk button.

  “Hello?”

  “Kendra, it’s me, Myra. Sorry it’s so late. Did I wake you up?”

  I looked over at Carl to see if the phone had woken him up. He pulled the cover up under his chin and rolled onto his side. I took the phone and went into the living room.

  “Did you talk to Bone?” I asked anxiously.

  “Yeah, I would have called earlier but I—”

  “That’s okay. I was still up,” I lied so she’d hurry up and tell me what I wanted to know.

  “Good cause you know I don’t usually call no one past eleven o’clock. I’m real polite like that but I figured you’d want to hear what Bone told me.”

  “What did he say?” I was sitting on the edge of my rocking chair with the phone gripped tightly in my hand.

  “He said there’s a guy named Calvin Lee Vermillion who’s at London with him. Bone said he’s been in the joint for thirty years. He’s ‘bout to get released next week.”

  “Why’s he in prison?”

  “Bone said he was a white supremacist. He killed a brotha back in the sixties. Now, ain’t that some shit?”

  “You ain’t never lied,” I whispered, more to myself than Myra.

  The next day after work, I headed over to Ms. Flack’s house to talk to her about Calvin Lee Vermillion, though I’d yet to figure out just how I was going to bring up the subject. I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was in some kind of danger because of this Vermillion guy and wondered if maybe he could somehow be behind all the weird stuff happening to the reunion committee.

  Ivy Flack lived in a blue and gray fifties craftsman style bungalow on Hewitt Street. I pulled up in front of her house and noticed her car wasn’t in the driveway but got out and knocked on her door anyway on the off chance her car was parked in the detached garage. No one answered the door but I could hear faint meowing sounds coming from inside the house before a large black and white cat appeared in the big picture window perched on the back of a sofa that sat in front of the window. This must be Tamsin. She looked at me curiously with large yellow eyes that seemed to be telepathically trying to tell me what I’d already figured out, the mistress of the house wasn’t at home. Tamsin and I stared at each other for a few seconds more before I turned to head back to my car. As I stepped off the porch, I heard a crash that startled me and looked over to see that a scrawny stray dog had knocked over Ms. Flack’s aluminum trashcan and was eating something it had found amongst the garbage. When the dog spotted me, it took its prize, which looked like a chicken leg bone, and ran away to hide under the neighbor’s bushes. I could hear it crunching on the bone in the distance as I approached the fallen trashcan.

  Knowing that if the trash wasn’t picked up it would end up all over Ms. Flack’s yard and the street, I bent down to clean up the mess. It was mostly empty pop cans, newspapers, detergent boxes, fast food containers, and the rest of the chicken carcass the dog had gotten a hold of. But something amongst the debris caught my eye and made me stop short. I picked it up. It was a package of fake press-on fingernails in pearl white. The exact same kind the custodian had found near the planter that had almost killed me. Only two were missing, which, of course, were the two the custodian had found on the roof. I knew Ms. Flack got manicures on a regular basis, but I did remember her telling me, when I’d run into her on campus last week, about breaking a couple of nails and not being able to get in to see her manicurist right away. In the meantime, she must have resorted to using the fake nails. I stuffed the package of fake nails in my purse. I rooted through the rest of the trash and also found a half empty can of red spray paint. Hadn’t Dennis said that his garage had been spray painted with graffiti?

  I stood up too fast and felt dizzy. I sat down on the stoop of my Ms. Flack’s side door and thought about how easy it would have been for her to have spiked Audrey’s pop with alcohol at the meeting. Audrey was the only one who drank diet pop. Plus, it was no wonder she’d refused my offer to take her to the hospital after she fell down the steps. She’d only pretended to fall. She could have set Gerald’s curtains on fire and tampered with Dennis’s vacuum. Had she tried to run Cherisse down as well? I didn’t recognize the car that almost hit Cherisse that night. I looked over at the detached garage. It was a small one car garage and there were windows on each side as well as a side door. I went over to take a peek and was frustrated to find the curtains were closed. I tried the door. It, too, was locked. I went around the side of the garage to look in the other set of windows.

  The side of the garage was right next to the chain link fence that separated Ms. Flack’s yard from her neighbor’s. I held my breath and squeezed between the garage and the fence. It was a very tight fit. I inched my way over to the window and looked in. Lucky for me, the curtains were open just enough for me to see a dark colored car inside. It was too dark for me to tell if the car was blue or black. But I could tell it was a much older and larger model than the car Ms. Flack usually drove. It certainly could have been the one that I’d seen that night, though I couldn’t be positive.

  Anger and confusion made me feel almost sick. How could she have done this to us? What reason could Ms. Flack have for wanting to hurt and scare us? What did she want us to pay for? Unfortunately, I didn’t have a lot of time to ponder these questions. I had a more pressing concern, which I quickly discovered when I tried to move. I was stuck. Great! Somehow I had managed to snag the buttons on the back pockets of my denim skirt on the fence behind me. I was stuck fast and I couldn’t turn around, not that there was much room to move anyway. I wiggled around trying without success to pull free of the fence. It was such a tight squeeze that I couldn’t even reach behind me to extricate myself.

  The only thing my efforts accomplished was to shake the fence and make the stray dog, that was still hiding under the bushes on the other side, start barking frantically at me. He barked and snarled, baring his teeth. I couldn’t figure out why the hell the damned dog was being so cranky until I noticed its hanging teats and spied two tiny puppies curled up together under the bush. He was a she, and she was protecting her pups. When I failed to move, the dog ran around the fence and came charging at me. Being a smaller dog, she was easily able to navigate the tight space and sank her teeth into the hem of my skirt and started pulling. I was worried about what would happen once the dog got tired of a mouthful of skirt and wanted my flesh. I had some cookies in my purse I knew the dog would be interested in. Unfortunately, I’d left my purse sitting by Ms. Flack’s side door. I looked around but there was no one who could help me. And how would I explain what I’d been doing peeking into Ms. Flack’s garage?

  I could feel myself starting to panic. I was desperate, hot, scared, and highly annoyed. I finally realized there was no place to go but up. I managed to lift my arms, scraping them against the side of the garage in the process, and pushed with all my might against the window in front of me. It opened swinging inward and I almost cried with relief. I calculated that there should be just enough room for me to fit through the window. I unbuttoned and unzipped my skirt in the front, quickly wriggling out of
it, braced my palms on the windowsill, hoisted myself up, and slid through the window leaving my skirt behind. I landed on the hard, dirty floor of the garage. I quickly got up, dusted myself off, and reached out of the window to grab my skirt. But with me no longer it, the skirt had come loose from the fence and fallen to the ground. To my supreme horror, I watched the dog run, with my skirt hanging from her jaws, back under the bush to her puppies. Damn!

  I groped around the semi-dark garage until I found a light switch and flipped it, filling the garage with dim lighting. It smelled like motor oil and bug spray. Besides the car, which I could now see was actually dark brown, there was a lawn mower, hedge clippers, a rake, and a shovel arranged neatly along one wall. There was a small table in one corner that had two large boxes sitting on top of it. I got excited hoping there would be some pants or shorts I could put on. I tore the lid off one box and rummaged around inside. It was filled with old books. A fat black spider scuttled up my arm and I shrieked and slapped at my arm knocking the box off the table in the process. I picked up the books, briefly glancing inside an old copy of Alice in Wonderland and saw it had the name Alice Rivers written inside. The second box held what looked to be junk including vacation pictures of Ms. Flack as a skinny teenaged girl with her family. It looked like they were in Hawaii. There was also a dried out coconut, a dusty lei, and something brown and bushy at the bottom of the box. At first, I thought it was a dead rat and jumped back. Upon closer inspection, I discovered it was an old matted grass skirt.

  I scoured the entire garage but could find nothing to wear, not even an old sheet or a tablecloth. I realized that even if I’d found some clothing, Ms. Flack was a size six and I was a size twelve on a good day. The only way I’d be able to wear anything of hers was if I wrapped it around my head. There was only one thing to left to do. After shaking it out to make sure there were no spiders nesting in it, I reluctantly wrapped the dried out grass skirt around me. It was actually too big and almost wrapped around me twice. I quickly left the garage through the side door. I grabbed my purse and sprinted towards my car. Predictably, the dog came chasing after me. I ran and almost made it. But the dog jumped up and ripped a large piece of the grass skirt from my backside, it’s sharp little teeth grazing my right butt cheek. I angrily ripped off the skirt and beat the dog back with it before jumping in my car and taking off.

  After going home, showering, and changing, not to mention enduring the pointing, stares, and laughter of some neighborhood kids out riding their bikes upon seeing me in my pink cotton undies with the red hearts, I headed over to the high school to confront Ms. Flack. Summer school was out for the day, but I knew she always stayed at least an hour past dismissal time. I wasn’t wrong. Her office door was open and since Mavis looked to be gone for the day, I walked right in.

  “Is there something you want to tell me?” I tossed the package of press-on nails on her desk. Her eyes got big but when she looked up at me her expression was infuriatingly neutral.

  “Those things are crap. They don’t stay on worth a damn,” she said with little laugh.

  “Oh, I know that. They popped off when you pushed that planter off the library roof and tried to kill me, didn’t they?”

  She didn’t say a word. Just looked down at her lap.

  “And don’t try to deny it because I found these in your trash can. You’re the one behind all the accidents we’ve all been having, and the threatening messages, too. I’d just like to know why?” I continued before she could protest.

  “I’m not sure what’s gotten into you. Maybe you need to go home and lie down. You don’t look well.” She shook her head slowly and looked at me like I was someone to be pitied.

  “You’re right. I’m not feeling too good. I just found out someone I’ve known and trusted since high school, someone I respected, has been playing some kind of sick game.”

  “I don’t have time for your issues. I’m going home.” She pulled her purse from her desk drawer and stood up abruptly then marched past me out of her office. I was right on her heels.

  “What is it you want us to pay for? What did any of us ever do to you?” I persisted as I trailed her down the hall. She turned and gave me a dirty look. It wasn’t until we’d gotten to her car that she turned to address me.

  “Look, I don’t know what your problem is. I have no idea what you’re talking about and if you keep harassing me like this on my job, I’m getting a restraining order.” She opened her car door.

  “Do you have a restraining order against Calvin Lee Vermillion, too?” I asked. She froze and then turned to stare at me. Her expression had changed from angry indignation to one of sheer terror. She looked around quickly like she was afraid someone would overhear what she was about to say.

  “Get in,” she commanded, jerking her head towards her car before hopping in herself. I got in on the passenger side. Ms. Flack had her head buried in the steering wheel. When she finally looked up, she had tears in her eyes.

  “I swear I never meant for anyone to get hurt. But I was desperate,” she exclaimed.

  “Why?”

  “Because if he finds me, he’s going to kill me.” She looked half crazed.

  “Who, Calvin Vermillion?”

  She simply nodded.

  “What’s he got to do with what you’ve been doing to the reunion committee?” I asked incredulous.

  She sighed and her shoulders sagged. “He’s someone I knew a long time ago. Someone I wish to God I could forget.” She looked at me pitifully.

  I nodded urging her to continue.

  “It was thirty years ago when I was fifteen. My family and I lived over in Urbana. I was a typical teenager. Whatever my parents wanted me to do, I wanted to do the exact opposite. I started seeing Calvin Lee just to piss off my parents. He was twenty-five and I thought he was cool. My parents forbid me to see him. But I would sneak out of the house at night and hang out with him and his friends. I knew Calvin Lee and his friends hated black people but I never really thought about the wrong of their beliefs. I was only fifteen. I was just happy he liked me. God! I was so stupid.” She buried her face in her hands.

  “Go on,” I prodded gently. She looked up and gave me a tearful nod.

  “Calvin Lee was a white supremacist. He and his friend’s called themselves the Righteous Whites. One night I was hanging out with them. We’d been drinking heavily. Calvin Lee was driving and he rear-ended another car. The owner got out to inspect the damage to his car. When Calvin Lee and his friends saw that the man was black, they got out and beat that poor man to death. Kicked him until they caved his head in. I saw the whole thing. I still have nightmares about it.” She broke off, unable to continue.

  “I still don’t understand what this has to do with you stalking the reunion committee,” I said in exasperation.

  “That night Calvin Lee told me if I ever told anyone what he’d done, he’d kill me. And I didn’t tell. But what we didn’t know at the time was that a woman was on the road walking her dog that night. She saw Calvin Lee’s car and got a good look at us. The police tracked me down and told me if I didn’t testify against Calvin Lee and his friends, I’d go to prison, too. So, of course, I testified. Calvin Lee got thirty years to life. I’ll never forget the look on his face when they led him out of the courtroom. He started screaming that he’d kill me if it was the last thing he ever did.”

  “And now he’s getting out?” I asked, though I already knew.

  “I got a letter from the Ohio board of corrections about a month ago informing me that Calvin Lee was being released on parole. I’ve been married and widowed since I last saw Calvin Lee. He knew me as Alice Rivers. After I married my late husband Stewart, I started going by my middle name, Ivy. But I’m sure it won’t take him long to find out that Alice Ivy Rivers is now Ivy Flack. I had to get away from here but I was afraid he’d find me. That’s when I got the idea to fake my own death.”

  My mouth must have fallen open because she quickly continued before I
could interrupt her.

  “I caused the accidents and sent the messages so everyone would think someone was stalking us. The accidents would then culminate in my death—”

  “How?” I asked, unable to contain my curiosity any longer.

  “I was planning to sabotage one of the paddle boats at Lake Mead and fake my own drowning at the reunion picnic. You know how deep that lake is. People have drowned and their bodies have never been found. I needed to have witnesses, which is why I involved the reunion committee. Then I was going to go to Mexico to start a new life where Calvin Lee would never find me.”

  “So, you’re the one who took the reunion fund money? So, you could force the committee to have a picnic at the lake instead of a catered dinner?”

  “No, I swear I didn’t take the money. But I’ve known it was gone for almost a year. And, yes, I was going to use the missing money as an excuse to have the reunion picnic at Lake Mead.”

  “You could have killed one of us,” I said angrily.

  “That was never my intention. I was the one who yelled for you to get out of the way when I pushed the planter from the roof. I only injected a little alcohol into Audrey’s Diet Coke can. I fixed Dennis’s vacuum so it would just short out and give him a small shock. I set fire to Gerald’s kitchen curtains because I could see he had a smoke alarm in that room, and I never planned to actually hit Cherisse. I really wasn’t going that fast. I thought I was giving her enough time to get out of the way. I didn’t realize she’d freeze up like that.”

  “That’s the problem. Despite your intentions, people did get hurt. Audrey was in the hospital for two days. Dennis sprained his wrist and bumped his head. Gerald was asleep on his couch when you started that fire. What if he’d been overcome by smoke before he woke up? And, if I hadn’t been there to push her out of the way, you would have run Cherisse down like a chipmunk in the road.” My voice got louder and more irate with each sentence because the blank, clueless expression on Ms. Flack’s face told me that she truly didn’t understand what she’d done wrong.