Murder of a Royal Pain

The old guidance file cabinets were lined up just inside the door, and taped to them were handwritten signs saying, Please remove, which meant the folders on Skye’s desk must be from those cabinets.

Jackie would have had to take out the contents of the huge four-drawer monstrosities in order to move them—they would have been too heavy to budge when they were full. Skye wondered when, or if, the other woman was planning to put back the files.

Skye glanced at the wall clock. Ten past eight. There wasn’t much she could do now, but she did take a few seconds to reclaim her leather chair. Then, after locating the file she needed, she hurried toward the conference room, wondering what other unpleasant surprises were in store for her.

“You’re late, Ms. Denison,” Zinnia Idell announced when Skye had seated herself at the table. “I bill my time at two hundred and fifty dollars an hour. You have wasted sixty dollars and fifty cents.”

Skye’s fingers itched to write the woman a check. Instead she gripped the edge of the table and said, “I’m terribly sorry.” If it were any other parent, she would have explained her delay. However, knowing there were no acceptable excuses where Mrs. Idell was concerned, Skye opened the folder and asked, “Shall we get started?”

“I’m not the one holding up the proceedings.” Mrs. Idell picked up her BlackBerry. “I’m making a note to telephone the superintendent when we get through here.”

“I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear from you.” Considering that the Idells had Dr. Wraige on speed dial, he wouldn’t be surprised by the call.

“Are you being sarcastic?” Color crept up Mrs. Idell’s neck, making her look like a thermometer. “Travis’s education is a serious matter.”

“Yes, it is. Which is why I asked you to come in.” Skye attempted to take back control of the meeting. She had been dealing with this particular parent since her first day on the job. Back then, Travis had been an eighth grader, and it had come to the school’s attention that he had hosted several sex parties during the previous summer while his parents were at work.

Several of the girls he had persuaded to participate had spilled the beans, which had resulted in their fathers, brothers, and the occasional cousin pounding the crap out of Travis. These beatings had caused his parents, a wealthy couple who commuted to Chicago for their high-power jobs, to demand that he be taught at home until they were convinced it was safe for him to come back to school.

The principal and superintendant had been glad to acquiesce and wait for the furor over the sex parties to die down. A few months later, Travis had been able to return and finish out the year without further incident. But upon entering high school, he had taken up his old ways.

Skye had sat in on or chaired at least a dozen detention, suspension, and other types of disciplinary meetings concerning Travis. Mr. and Mrs. Idell had consistently refused offers of counseling and/or psychological assessment, and not once had they ever conceded that their son was at fault.

Now, as Mrs. Idell finished reading the discipline referral Skye had given her, she said, “This is ridiculous. My son did not plagiarize his English paper.”

Skye handed her the original essay, which the teacher had found on the Internet. “This is what he copied it from.”

Mrs. Idell threw the paper back at Skye, refusing to look at it. “It’s easy to manufacture evidence of this sort. You have it in for him. You’ve been trying to pin something on him ever since that nonsense in eighth grade. Anytime Travis has been accused of misconduct, you’re right there egging everyone on. What is he? Your job security? No doubt you’re afraid they’ll eliminate your position if there aren’t enough kids getting into trouble.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way.” Skye was shocked at Mrs. Idell’s vicious attack. “Yes, I am the one you see when your son gets into trouble, but the only one responsible for Travis’s behavior is Travis.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

Skye paused, considering whether she should continue, and decided that despite the unpleasant consequences, she was Travis’s advocate, and it was past time to talk to his mother about her parenting skills. In previous meetings with the Idells, Homer had forbidden Skye from bringing up the subject, but he was out sick today, and his message had said that she should handle the conference on her own. This was her chance to say something she should have said several years ago.

“You know, Mrs. Idell, you’re right.” Skye made eye contact with the woman.

“Of course I am.”

“There are two other people who have a huge impact on Travis’s behavior.”

“Those two awful boys he hangs out with.” Mrs. Idell nodded.

“No. You and your husband.”

“How dare you?” Mrs. Idell’s face turned scarlet and she leapt from her chair, sending it banging into the wall.