Chapter 19
Chapter
Nineteen
Ben glanced at his watch for the third time in as many minutes.
The rehearsal dinner was less than three hours away, and they still had to get back to the condo to shower and change.
He didn't care about being late himself, but he knew Kelly's family would use any excuse to criticize her.
His protective instincts flared at the thought.
He'd rather face down a board of angry investors than watch Kelly endure her family's subtle barbs and disappointed sighs.
"We'll have enough time," Kelly reassured him, misinterpreting his concern as she hurried alongside him through the high school corridors.
Their footsteps echoed against the worn linoleum floors, joining the distant sounds of students in after-school activities.
The hallways were surprisingly familiar despite never having been in this particular school before. The same bulletin boards covered with announcements, the same trophy cases, the same slightly antiseptic smell mixed with floor polish.
The drama club had plastered several walls with posters advertising their upcoming production of "Romeo and Juliet.” Student artwork lined other walls, some impressive, others endearingly amateur.
"The auditorium is this way," Kelly said, pointing down a hallway to their left.
They found the auditorium at the end of a long corridor.
The door was propped open, and the sounds of teenage voices reciting lines spilled out into the hallway.
Ben peered inside to see a small theater setup, with students on stage while a man with thinning brown hair and elbow patches on his tweed jacket gesticulated wildly from the front row.
"That's him," Kelly whispered. "Keith Caldwell."
Caldwell had that classic intellectual look from television and movies.
The wire-rimmed glasses, the carefully disheveled hair, the academic attire that seemed like a costume rather than clothes.
All Caldwell needed was a roaring fire, an Irish setter on the rug, and an old leather chair to read Pride and Prejudice.
They stood quietly at the back until Caldwell noticed them. His eyes lingered a moment too long on Kelly before he turned back to his students.
"That's all for today," he announced. "Review your lines. I want Act Two memorized by Monday."
The students scrambled to gather their belongings, their energy a stark contrast to Caldwell's affected languor as he approached Ben and Kelly. His smile was practiced, showing too many teeth.
"Kelly Bateman," he said, ignoring Ben completely. "What a pleasant surprise. You've grown into quite the lovely woman. I heard you were back in town for your sister’s wedding."
Ben noticed the slight stiffening of Kelly's shoulders at the familiar way Caldwell addressed her, at the appreciative glance that was just this side of inappropriate.
"Mr. Caldwell," she replied, her voice cooler than the classroom's air conditioning. "This is Ben Reilly. We were hoping to ask you a few questions."
Caldwell finally acknowledged Ben with a brief nod before turning his attention back to Kelly.
"Questions? How intriguing. About what, may I ask? Not thinking of joining the theater department, are you? We could always use someone with your... presence."
The innuendo wasn't subtle. Ben felt a surge of dislike for the man, amplified by Kelly’s unconscious step back.
"Actually," Ben said, deliberately keeping his voice pleasant, "we wanted to ask you about a former student of yours. Lori Powell."
Caldwell's expression remained blank for a moment, then he furrowed his brow in what appeared to be genuine confusion. "Powell? I've had so many students over the years. You'll have to refresh my memory."
"Blonde. Blue eyes. Cheerleader," Kelly supplied. "She was in your senior English class the year she died."
Recognition dawned slowly on Caldwell's face, but not the kind Ben would have expected if the man had been involved with her. There was no flash of panic, no grief, just the mild interest of someone retrieving a dusty file from the back of their mind.
"Ah, yes, Lori Powell. The murder victim. Terrible business, that. What about her?"
"We're looking into her case," Ben explained. "Talking to people who knew her."
"And you want to talk to me? I'm not sure I'd qualify as someone who knew her well. She was a mediocre student at best. Never truly grasped the nuances of Shakespeare. If you're expecting profound insights into her character, I'm afraid I'll disappoint you."
“You don’t remember anything else?” Kelly pressed. “You spent a lot of time with her, helping her with her studies.”
“I spend a lot of time with many students,” Caldwell pointed out.
“But I have to disagree that I spent any extra time with Miss Powell. I saw her in class, and that’s it.
I don’t remember any extra tutoring. I was working closely with Ian Dunbridge that semester as he was the lead in the school play. ”
Kelly’s brows were pinched together, and she gave Ben a confused look.
“She didn’t see you after school?”
“No, although considering her grades, I would have encouraged her to. I don’t think there’s much I can add. I dealt with her academic performance, not her social life. Why are you interested in my perspective anyway? Surely there are others who knew her better."
Ben decided to take a chance, watching Caldwell's face carefully as he spoke.
“She was quite beautiful. The kind of student that even teachers might notice."
The effect was immediate and dramatic. Caldwell's face flushed, his posture stiffened, and his eyes narrowed to slits behind his glasses.
"I'm not sure what you're implying," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "but I assure you that I maintain appropriate professional boundaries with all my students.
Always have, always will. If you're suggesting otherwise, I would advise you to consider the legal implications of defamation very carefully. "
"No one's suggesting anything, Mr. Caldwell.
We're just trying to understand who Lori was as a person.
She had told others that she spent time with you after school, so we thought you might have some insight into her as a person, but it sounds like that was an incorrect assumption.
But what about during the summer? Did you ever see her then? "
"I did not. I spent that summer in London," Caldwell said abruptly, his eyes darting between Ben and Kelly. "With a colleague from the university. Working on research for my dissertation on modern interpretations of Shakespearean comedy. I have plane tickets, photographs, and multiple witnesses who can attest to my whereabouts. I don’t like where this is going. I had nothing to do with that young woman’s life or death.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a production to prepare and papers to grade. "
Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked back toward the stage, his shoulders rigid with tension.
Ben and Kelly stood awkwardly at the edge of the now-empty classroom. Ben noticed that several students had been watching their exchange from the hallway, though they scattered quickly when Caldwell returned to the stage.
"Well," Ben murmured under his breath. "That’s a dead end."
They exited the school and headed back to the car. He hadn’t truly had any high hopes even before they’d come to speak to Caldwell, but Kelly might have.
He studied her face for signs of distress, but her expression was surprisingly calm after their letdown. If anything, she looked thoughtful, her brow slightly furrowed as she processed what had just happened.
Kelly shrugged, her auburn hair catching copper highlights in the sun.
"I hate to admit it, but I think he was being genuine about not remembering Lori well."
“We still have Aunt Patricia,” Ben assured her. “If Lori was seeing someone that summer, her aunt might have noticed something."
As they climbed into the rental car, Ben checked his watch again, more out of habit than necessity. They had just enough time to get back to the condo, freshen up, and make it to the rehearsal dinner without being unfashionably late.
"We should head back," he said. "Give you time to transform into wedding guest mode."
"Don't remind me,” Kelly groaned. “My mother has probably been texting me all afternoon about what I should wear. As if I packed dozens of outfits to choose from. I brought one. One outfit for tonight. If it’s not good enough, there’s nothing I can do about it."
"Has she?" Ben asked, starting up the car.
Kelly checked her phone and grimaced.
"Four messages. 'Don’t wear black.' 'Don't forget to bring a wrap, the restaurant is always cold.' 'Please do something with your hair.' And my personal favorite, 'Try to look presentable.'"
"Families," Ben said sympathetically.
"Is there any way we can not go?" Kelly asked as they reached the car. "Maybe a case of the plague? Or we could say we got food poisoning from lunch."
Her tone was light, but Ben caught the genuine dread behind her joke. She wasn't looking forward to an evening of subtle criticism and comparison to her brother. He couldn't blame her.
"We could skip it," he replied, surprising himself with the suggestion.
The old Ben Reilly would never have proposed skipping a social obligation. But something about Kelly made him want to protect her, even from her own family.
She looked at him in surprise, then shook her head reluctantly. She was probably right. They had to be there.
"No, we should go. I would never hear the end of it. Besides, I'm sure my mother has already counted every appetizer and planned the seating chart down to the inch."
Ben's posture shifted almost unconsciously, his body angling closer to hers, protective and supportive.
"I've got your back, babe. I'll be right next to you."
The endearment slipped out without thought, as natural as breathing. Neither acknowledged it directly, though a faint blush touched Kelly's cheeks.
"My personal bodyguard against family judgment," she said with a small smile. Then she sighed, looking up at him with a mixture of gratitude and frustration. "I just wish I didn't need a body shield to see my family."
The simple honesty in her statement tugged at something deep in Ben's chest. His own family was far from perfect, sure.
His dad could be stubborn, his mom extra boisterous and full of zeal for life, and his siblings sometimes annoying.
But underneath it all was a solid foundation of love and respect.
The idea that Kelly had to armor herself just to attend a family function made him genuinely sad.
"Maybe someday you won't," he said quietly, opening the car door for her.
Kelly gave him the saddest smile he’d ever seen in his life.
"That would require them to change. And people don't change, Ben. Not really."
"Some do," he countered, thinking of his own recent transformation.
Just a few weeks ago, he'd been the epitome of the buttoned-up businessman, his life as orderly and predictable as a spreadsheet. Now he was helping investigate a decade-old murder, had slept on couch cushions on the floor, and was about to face down a family of strangers at a rehearsal dinner.
“Bennett Reilly, I think you might be an incurable optimist.”
Was he an optimist? Or just dumb?
Either way, he didn’t think Kelly’s family was planning on making any changes tonight.
But there was one thing Kelly hadn’t brought up after their meeting this afternoon.
If Lori wasn’t spending her days after class getting extra tutoring from Mr. Caldwell…what was she doing? And who was she with?