A lady of a certain age, if uncertain how she got there and where she is going, Cealie Gunther travels to Chicago for her granddaughter's graduation. But Kat, whose mother died and whose father doesn't seem able to shake the grief, is distracted by an untimely death at school. If her exams are at stake, Cealie is determined to help - even if she's put in RELATIVE DANGER.
This is in a series called Cajun Delights and has just been reissued in e-book form. Cealie, widowed, has a former beau who runs a highly popular Cajun restaurant in the neighbourhood where Kat lives. She makes an excuse to herself to dine at his place, and even though she's determined to be an independent woman and live the way she likes, Cealie can't help noticing that Gil Thurman now has a leggy young lady in a slinky outfit beside him. Suddenly the elasticated waist trouser suit doesn't seem like such a good idea. Gil is all genuine charm, but no help when it comes to resolving suspicious deaths. Annoyed, Cealie decides to investigate by herself, and gets enrolled in the school as a supply teacher. After all, nobody thinks twice about hiring a mature lady with teaching experience, right?
That experience seems a long time ago as a riot is in progress when Cealie arrives at the school - oh, rather, it's lunchtime. Kids shove her unthinkingly and a sign forbids bringing weapons onto the premises. What has she got herself into? Due to the reprimand of the school official who is now dead, a young football player got cut from a game, and wasn't offered a college place. Does this explain more than the lad's attitude problem? The attractive Spanish teacher is under suspicion; she also dresses voluptuously in a school. But Kat likes her, so are the police wrong? Reconciled with Gil on a friendship basis, because she can't resist his seafood platter, Cealie talks through her issues and just wishes he were available. That's before a bomb explodes at school....
There's plenty of wry humour as Cealie adapts to the new situation. While this cosy mystery by June Shaw will appeal to those ladies who, like our heroine, have empty nests and high standards, it could also be very interesting reading for young people who only read high school stories from their own perspective. Seeing ourselves as others see us really can teach us something, and the kids in the classroom are very shortly going to be adults in the world of work. RELATIVE DANGER offers , and the best thing is, there's a series.
A small light played up from the stage.
My quivering body made my purse shake against my hip. From
the main landing, I peered down at the backs of rows of
chairs. The auditorium, dark except for the stage's tiny
spotlight, could seat hundreds. This rear hall was circular.
Other doorways back here led down to more seats. The molded
chairsβ seats were folded up, except for the broken ones.
Cracked seats hung, creating odd geometric shapes. Chairs
that alternated the blue and yellow school colors resembled
a tremendous checkerboard. The yellow ones stood out,
looking friendlier than the darker ones. Metal strips
connected all of them. Between each wide section of chairs,
concrete steps led down toward the stage.
Cougars had been painted on the walls outside it, facing the
audience. The big cats appeared fierce, poised to charge. An
American flag stood on the stage beside a podium. Up there
was where Kat would soon make her grand crossing. I hoped.
My eyes adjusted to the dark, and an oppressive quiet
pressed against my eardrums. I clutched a chair's rear.
Rubbed my palms dry against it. βSomeoneβs upstairs,β my
mind or throat whispered while my heart drummed. I stood on
wobbly legs, feeling the doors closed behind me, encasing me
in this tomb. Upstairs, my thoughts ordered.
My knees bumped against each other as I moved. I glanced at
chairs stretched along the roomβs rear. On which one did
that young man die?
I backed out and darted to the stairs leading above. If I
stopped, Iβd turn around and dash away from the terror. I
wished Iβd worn running shoes instead of pumps. My shoes
click-clicked on concrete while I made my way up the
sinister stairwell, sliding my palm along the handrail for
support.
I paused on a stair. Steadying my breaths, I glanced down
through metal strips that supported the handrails. They
resembled prison bars. I could see the entrance door. It was
still shut, nobody coming inside. I wanted to run out.
Entombed in the tiny black cell, I inched up the stairs, the
growing pulse in my throat tasting bitter. My scalp tingled
as I neared the balcony, the glow from the stage below
getting brighter.
Finally up, I paused. I was standing on a balcony.
Being up here wasnβt so awful, I told myself. Nobody was
going to lift me up and pretend to toss me down, like my big
cousin had. Satisfaction sprinkled through me. Iβd done it.
I had stood up to my anxiety about balconies.
Still, the air was scant, my legs feeling jelled. I made
them take me down steps toward the handrail.
Scanning the area, I saw no one. But felt I wasnβt alone. A
person could be hidden, stooped in the shadows behind those
rows of chairs with raised seats. I peered at the stage,
trying to center myself. Calm my breathing. I couldn't
believe I was really up here.
I forced new thoughts. Many people must have keys to this
place. Band director. Office staff. Coaches. Some teachers.
Custodians. They all had reasons to be here at different
times.
The person here with me now had a purpose.
The single light on stage created a spotlight on its center.
I glanced back across the balcony. Three rear doors were
left open. I had come up on the left, but this wasn't the
area where I thought I needed to be. With eyes trained on my
surroundings, I crept toward the central section.
Nothing seemed unusual, I thought, moving all the way down
to the rail, struggling against my bodyβs tremors. I scanned
the rows of chairs I passed before exposing my back to them.
A backward glance told me no one had come through a door.
Needing to stop my shuddering, I clutched the railing.
Stared down across the dark auditorium. Focused on the
stage. It looked ready for a performance. Someone would
cross that platform. Maybe speak. Do another activity that
would take center stage. The production might call for an
encore. I envisioned it. Shoved the scene from my mind.
Other lights surrounded that platform, I noticed. Small
lights below it, some above. But only the single light
shone, spotlighting the shiny wooden floor. I heard
footsteps.
They came from behind me. Soft steps, slowed for my benefit.
I gripped the balconyβs railing. The feet moving behind me
stopped. My hearing shot into high gear. Once again the
person moved.
βInspecting the stage for graduation?β a voice asked from
the black void to my rear.
I didn't turn. Forced my voice strong. βI was just wondering
how Kat is going to look out there.β
βIβm sure sheβll look pretty, as always.β
Breathing came closer. To my left and behind me. The
darkness seemed to close in. Tapping sounded. The slightest
tap-tap of something hard against flesh.
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