Testament

Chapter 31

Ford was mopping near the teacher's lounge when the teachers meeting began proper. Staff members began to flood into the room. Pamela was one of the first to arrive while the last one was Mx. Thatcher, the short haired transgender journalism teacher who was apparently addicted to crackers and blue cheese who went by them or they. He kinda felt sorry for Mx. Thatcher, who'd always got looks from other staff members.

"What's even the meeting about?" Ford asked as Mx. Thatcher walked next to him. "Something about Mike again?"

"Vanderbilt? Nah. It's to check the progress and results of the curriculum." Mx. Thatcher said.

"Oh. Okay. Good luck then, Mx. Thatcher!"

"Thanks!" they said as they walked into the room, closing the door behind them.

Okay, with the meeting underway and everyone's distracted, now's my chance. Ford throttled towards the nearest of Pamela's offices, a bottle of spray in his hand and a rag of his back pant pocket, just in case someone wondered what he was doing going from office to office. Once inside, he got his clips and hairpins out of his pockets and got to work the desk drawers and filing cabinets. Should I lock the door behind me? Nah. Would need to explain why I locked it if Pamela returned early, and I don't think there would be any good explanations to begin with. Now, one of her offices must have something inside to prove the scam, like a list of social security numbers, or credit card numbers and expiry dates...

In the first office, there was nothing but office supplies plus some folders with random notes about her students and classes. The bottom two drawers of the filing cabinets contained nothing but hanging file cabinet dividers. Nothing out of the ordinary. Crap.

He locked the cabinets and drawers -it wasn't his first time lock picking, and he was surprised he had shaken off the rust with relative ease- and went to her second office, the one with the desk with the cigarette burns.

On that one there was a computer that Ford didn't even try to access as he was many things, but computer savvy was not one of them. The desk drawer on her second office was more office supplies along with old receipts for random corner store purchases like chips and such, and even a parking ticket -which was weird because Ford had never seen her arriving or leaving in a car- while the lone filing cabinet had notes concerning her exams and classes, along with several charts of things Ford didn't understand.

Fuck.

The third one was located on the first floor of the leftmost building, and was the one that always smelled a bit funny, a vague hint of rust that Ford had never been able to spot the source of or get rid of. The one had body-sized lockers instead of filing cabinets, along with the usual desk with yet another computer in it. The desk drawers had, weirdly enough, a ton of books, novels, and a tablet computer. Ford ignored the tablet and checked the books out of habit. Well, this I was not expecting. Forbidden Love In The Mental Ward? And ss that fucking Fabio in the cover? Come on. There were some other novels, some romance, some just fiction, intermixed with at least two actual science books and magazines where peer studies would get published and the like. The kind of books Ford legit couldn't read. All of them looked read, several times, actually, due to the wrinkles and bends on the pages and the paperback covers.

The second desk drawer had copies of the teacher profiles Pamela had mentioned before. They seemed to be done by hand, the pages ripped straight from a notebook. Her handwriting was like chicken scratches. Typical for an MD. If they contained any social security numbers he couldn't tell. He made a mental note to come back to that drawer after Pamela left for the night, to see if he could make something out of her writing.

The body-sized lockers only had clothes and clothing inside. It was the usual combination for the outfit Pamela wore: crimson vest and pencil skirt combo, white buttoned shirts, and several ties. However, weirdly enough, they didn't seem to be the same size. That doesn't seem to make a lot of se–