She was grinning.
“What?” I asked.
“For someone who doesn’t like him, you sure have paid a lot of attention to details about him.”
I’m not a bad guy, Hollis.
“I do not pay atten—can we just focus on the issue at hand, please? How should we approach Kermit?”
Her grin widened. “You’re flustered. You like him!”
“I do not! I mean, he’s fine. He’s a likable person. But he’s in my way.”
“Maybe you should just have dinner with him or something.” I didn’t respond. Her eyes grew wide. “You’re having dinner with him? When?”
“Tomorrow night,” I said, then followed quickly with, “It’s to talk about the case off the record.”
“Uh-huh,” she said. “How far off?”
“Not as far off as you’re trying to make it sound right now.” I pulled into the River Fork High School parking lot. “Now can we please focus on how we’re going to approach Kermit?”
Her shoulders sagged. “You’re no fun.” She thought about it. “I say we go old school. Like, old, old school.” She adopted a gangster voice. “Listen up, you. We know you did it, see. Tell us where the goods are or else you’ll end up in the big house, see.. ”
I watched her struggle and fail to hold back giggles.
“I’m starting to think I should have left you at home with your circus,” I said. She laughed harder. “You’re losing it.” Harder still. So hard, she was wiping tears from the corners of her eyes. “I think Mike and those little terrors have finally cracked you. Let’s go.”
She giggled behind me all the way to the field house door, which again had been left propped open, even though school was still in session. Total safety violation, but it was working for me. I would save breaking that story for another day.
Kermit was in his office eating a tuna sandwich. The blood rushed from his face when he saw us walking toward him. He half-stood when we opened the office door and burst inside like we owned the place.
“You again,” he said. “I already told the police, I don’t have any information.” So Chief Henderson and Brooks had finally gotten around to Kermit.
“We think you do, see,” Daisy said in her gangster voice, but turned her lips in when she saw the warning glare I gave her. “Sorry,” she mumbled.
“You’ve talked to the police?” I asked.
He nodded. “The chief came here and questioned me right in the middle of my first hour bowling unit. You guys are starting to make me look really bad. This is harassment. I could turn you in, you know.”
I glanced at the other desk in the room. It had been mostly cleared off. All that was left was the framed photo, some coupons, and a long-dead potted plant. “They took evidence,” I said, more to myself than to him.
“I told them, and I’ll tell you. You’re going to have to arrest me to make me talk.”
“We’re not the police,” I said.
“We’re podcasters,” Daisy said, and when he gave a blank look, added, “Knock ’em Dead podcast? It’s about murders.”
I wasn’t sure which one of us was giving her the more alarmed look.
“Old murders,” I amended. “Like, from a long, long time ago.”
“Now I really have nothing to say,” he said, coming toward us, waving his arms in “shoo” motion.
“And muffins! It’s about muffins, too,” she added, but the damage had already been done.
“Out!” He backed us to the door.
“I can give you my secret to a creamy lemon pie,” she said.
“You can talk to my lawyer! Move it!” He shuffled us along.
“Wait, wait! I can help you,” I said, pulling up just short of the door. “Yes, we’re podcasters. But that only means we want to get the full story. Objective and fair.” He looked like he might be open to buying it, so I continued. “We’re your chance to get your side of the story out there. Because, I mean, you have to admit, it looks a little weird that you had the information about stealing plays and you had the playbook. You can clear the air about that.” I neglected to mention that Daisy and I currently had possession of those things, so the police hadn’t been able to get their hands on them.
“And you wanted his job. And you printed out a resume and a cover letter talking about the vacancy the day before he died. You should probably explain that, too, because it is way fishy,” Daisy added.
Alarm flashed on his face and he started shooing us again.
“We will approach this from the perspective of an unbiased third party. I promise.” What I wasn’t promising was that we wouldn’t turn him over to the police if we figured out he was the killer. Kermit looked like he was considering it. “Several people wanted him dead,” I said. “It’s not like you’re the only—or even the most likely—suspect. What was your relationship like, exactly? You said he was too busy for beers. I assume that means you didn’t hang out a lot after work.”
His shoulders sagged. “He was mean. You try sharing an office with a cranky boss. I couldn’t even eat my tuna fish in peace because he thought it smelled bad. Everything I did, he criticized. I hated him. Well, actually, we hated each other. Everyone knew it.”
Daisy gave me I-told-you-so eyebrows; I gave my head a tiny don’t-you-dare-say-it shake. We were finally getting somewhere. The last thing we needed was for him to get spooked and shut down again.
“Yes, I was trying to get his job,” Kermit said. “I was meeting with the superintendent the following day to turn him in.”
“Turn him in?”
“He was a cheater,” Kermit said. “Paulie Henderson was right. And I had proof. I found the
