“Farley didn’t have friends,” he said. “He had servants and staff, and I was both.”
I was starting to think Kermit wouldn’t exactly be giving Farley’s eulogy.
“I’m sure you were closer than you remember,” I said.
“Don’t count on it.” He squinted at me. “Wait a minute. Do I know you?”
I shook my head, feeling my face burn. “Nope, I don’t think so.”
“Sure I do!” He pointed at me. “You’re that reporter over at the Parkwood paper. I’ve seen you around at the games. You’re always carrying a little notebook.”
“I have a sister,” I said quickly. “Common mistake. She’s the smart one. She pretty much writes a whole newspaper, and I can barely read the directions on a bottle of bleach.” I forced a giggle. It sounded like wood breaking in the back of my throat.
“Yeah, speaking of bleach,” he said, his brow crinkling. “Where are your cleaning supplies? I don’t even see a broom or a mop. Come to think of it, you don’t really seem to be cleaning anything. You’re just taking stuff. Nah, I don’t believe you. You’re undercover or something.”
Oh, no. He was onto us.
“We didn’t bring our cleaning supplies out of the van yet,” Daisy said. “We’re waiting on boxes, so we can get all this stuff boxed up and make room for…you know. The next coach.” She acted contrite, but I knew she was just trying to stall for time. She was made for this job.
His eyebrows shot up again, only this time he looked eager, sort of the way King Archie looked when I got out his catnip and sprinkled it on a patch of sunlight on the living room floor. “They’re hiring a replacement? Already?”
“Oh, we wouldn’t know,” I said. “Seeing as we don’t even work here.”
“No, you work at the Parkwood newspaper,” he said. “I don’t believe you have a sister.”
I forced another laugh. “You’re so funny.”
“I’m also right.” He whipped out his phone, pulled up to the Parkwood Chronicle Weekly’s staff bio page, which included a group photo. “That’s not a sister. That’s you.”
“Fine,” I said, exasperated. And also caught. “If I’m a reporter, then let me ask you some questions. Did Coach Farley have any enemies that you know of?”
I could see his desire to savor his victory battle with his desire to suck his words back into his mouth at the realization that I was now going to question him. “None,” he said meekly.
“Really? Not even Paulie Henderson? Because it seems to me that Paulie Henderson would have a very different answer to that question.”
“The Henderson kid was all hot air,” he said, waving his hand.
“Did Coach Farley ever talk about being worried that someone might come after him?”
“Absolutely not. He was a big guy. He could take care of himself against anybody.”
“Apparently not against a car, though. Or maybe a Jeep?”
“It was a Jeep?”
“I don’t know, was it?” We locked eyes. “Were you there that night? What do you drive?”
He sat back, steely. “I was putting away the equipment. I was nowhere near him. I just wanted to get out of there.”
“Why?” I asked. “You guys won. You didn’t want to savor your victory?”
“We couldn’t ever savor victories at Parkwood. That Henderson kid was unhinged. Every time we went out there, he followed us, threw food on our cars, that kind of thing. He punched out my taillights once. I can’t prove it, but I know it was him. Gerry wouldn’t even let Wilma Louise go with him to the Parkwood games. He didn’t want her to get upset.”
“You just said he didn’t have any enemies. Sounds to me like Paulie was an enemy.”
“An arch-nemesis,” Daisy added.
He crossed his arms. “Miss, you don’t understand teenagers. When you work in a high school, you get used to kids doing things like that. But that doesn’t make them deadly. Henderson didn’t like us, that was true, but he wouldn’t kill anybody. At least, I don’t think so.”
Daisy’s phone rang, startling all three of us. She pulled it out of her pocket, examined it, and then said, “Oh! It’s corporate. I should take this.”
“He knows we’re not maids, Daisy.”
She marched over, the phone still trilling, grabbed my arm, and began pulling. “We should both take this.”
“Wait, so you’re not going to clean out his desk?” Kermit asked. “But it’s the better desk. I’d kind of like to have it.”
“We’re not maids,” I repeated, as Daisy pulled me out of the office. “As you said, I’m a reporter.”
He stood, looking panicked. “You don’t have my permission to use my name in any article.”
“Bye, now,” Daisy said, shoved me out into the field house and shut the office door. She answered her phone, said, “Mommy doesn’t have time right now,” and hung up. “Let’s go.”
“Why did you do that? I was getting somewhere.”
“Let’s go,” she repeated, and once again started dragging me. I argued the whole way.
When I finally gave up and let her deposit me into the car, I sat in the driver’s seat sullenly. “I was finally getting to the bottom of Paulie Henderson’s major grudge against Farley, and you literally drag me away. Why?”
She leaned over, pulled two folded pieces of paper out of her back pocket, unfolded them, and handed them to me. “This is why.”
It took me a minute to understand what I was looking at. “A resume and cover letter? So?”
“So…look whose it is.”
I scanned to the top of the paper. Kermit Hoopsick. “The assistant coach. Okay. He clearly wasn’t Farley’s biggest fan, so it’s not surprising to me that he might be looking around for something better. But still. The timing is interesting. What does the letter say?”
“I haven’t had a chance to read it yet.” Daisy took the paper and read aloud. “‘Dear Superintendent Jacobson, I am writing to you to express my interest in the recently vacated position of Head Football Coach at River Fork High School. I’ve been working with—’”
“Wait, stop,”
