The Body at the Back of the Bus: The Second Lena Cohen Conroy Mystery

By Jeff Laffel

When THE BODY UNDER THE BLEACHERS, the first Lena Cohen Conroy was published a number of years ago, there were so many positive comments about it that I thought Lena and her pals at Cromwell High School needed a sequel Here it is at last as Lena takes her A.P. English class to Broadway on what turns into a fatal field trip. Lena loves her students, they love her and it is my fondest wish that you will love all of them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 22, 2019
• ISBN: 9781796047448

Jeff Laffel

Jeff Laffel was born in New York and has lived there all his life. After undergrad work at SUNY New Paltz, and graduate work at St. Johns University, Jeff taught at both Dutch Broadway School and Elmont Memorial High School in Elmont, Long Island for thirty- five, to quote him, “of the happiest years of my life.” At EMHS he taught Film Study as well as 12th grade English and AP English. He is currently working on a collection of short stories.

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Copyright © 2019 by Jeff Laffel.

Library of Congress Control Number:     2019910161

ISBN:                    Hardcover                       978-1-7960-4746-2

                               Softcover                         978-1-7960-4745-5

                               eBook                               978-1-7960-4744-8

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 07/19/2019

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Contents

Prologue Sunday Night

Chapter One Tis Folly To Be Wise

Chapter Two Frolics

Chapter Three The Night Before

Chapter Four Matinee Day

Chapter Five Tv o Not Tv, One of Many Questions (Thursday)

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven The Lower Depths (Monday)

Chapter Eight The Impossible Dream (Wednesday)

Chapter Nine Betty Late Than Never (Thursday)

Chapter Ten Frolics

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Many thanks,

to Joan Veneziano d’Avanzo for the beautiful cover and for being a dear friend of many years. Relentlessly wonderful!

Thanks too to Mark Horowitz for making me look good in the author’s photo.

And to Trisha Nash who read it as a friend and edited it as a pro.

This book is dedicated to Mel Goldstein, my Professor of English at SUNY New Paltz, who taught me how to read and to Richard Caliendo, a great principal who always had my back.

Prologue

SUNDAY NIGHT

Mark Impelliteri quietly slipped on his jeans. Holding his tee shirt in his hand, his sneakers on but unlaced, he looked down at the sleeping girl. No way he could leave by the front door. If her mother caught him the shit would hit the fan. Good that it was a one- story house. No problem. He moved stealthily to the window, opened it wider and slipped out into the muggy autumn night. He wouldn’t need his shirt. He walked toward Queens Street where he had parked his car, humming. Things were going better.

Don Salemi couldn’t sleep. He knew he would have to tell Lena the next day and was not looking forward to it. Not looking forward to it at all.

Margaret Carlson was glad the night was over. Her feet hurt, and tomorrow was another full day. Maybe she should quit the part time job at Cromwell with all those snot nose kids. But no, she loved the extra money although, as her brother kept telling her, she had plenty. Plenty, maybe, but never enough, she thought as she turned the key and her ten- year old Ford coughed to life. No. She would keep all the jobs.

Lena Cohen Conroy slept, her sound machine offering the sounds of gently falling rain.

Chapter One

TIS FOLLY TO BE WISE

Summer refused to die.

It was the end of September and the temperature still sat uncomfortably in the mid eighties. It was a muggy heat and the students at Cromwell High School on Long Island, made to spend nine periods a day in their un- air conditioned class rooms, were far from happy. The teachers were far from overjoyed as well.

Lena Cohen Conroy who was seldom testy, was testy. Little things that she would ordinarily have overlooked set her teeth on edge.

This was no way to start a new school year! So it was that when Lena was grading essays during a swelteringly hot free period and a knock came at her Little Theater door, she cursed under her breath. She pushed up from her desk, walked slowly to the door and grudgingly pushed the steel bar that opened it. She looked up, then down. A young girl, small, probably seventh grade, stood there.

Yes? She hoped that she hadn’t snapped at the child.

Mr. Salemi said he’d like to see you in the office now.

But I’m in the middle of…

He said it was important.

Lena sighed, thanked the girl who disappeared through the door that led to the shop classes, made sure her door was locked behind her and headed to the first floor. At the top of the stairs she almost collided with a young man whom she recognized as being a senior, but not one in any of her classes. Sorry, he mumbled. No harm done, Lena replied, but shouldn’t you be in class? Do you have a pass? The young man shrugged, I was late. Just on my way. Well get there, Lena said, before you get into trouble. As she continued down the hall to the office she picked up a dropped baseball cap with I’m a Belieber" stitched on it. She proceeded down the corridor, twirling the cap and walked into the main office. She wandered into the principal’s inner office and was greeted by Lucy Santamaria, the principal’s personal assistant. Principals come and go, Lena thought, but Lucy is a constant and a dear friend.

You lose your hat? Lena asked smiling, holding up the cap.

I was up all night hysterical, wondering where it was, Lucy said as she took the cap and indolently tossed it into a large cardboard box marked, Lost and Found, that sat at the far side of her office.

Lena smiled, So I came Justin time!

Lucy made a face. Isn’t he old news by now? Isn’t that little girl with the tongue who shakes her behind more popular?

Lena shrugged. "It’s the tall blonde girl now. Besides, I stopped caring when Patti Page stopped recording. Meanwhile, what’s he want? she asked nodding to her principal’s inner office. Am I getting fired?"

Fat chance of that. The man loves your ass.

Phew, and me so close to a pension. Really, what’s he want?

Search me. I’ve heard rumors, but nothing definite.

Lucy, other than the custodians there is no one in this building who knows more about what’s going on than you. You must know something.

Usually you’d be correct, Lena, but this time I’ve been playing it close to the vest. Both women turned to see Don Salemi standing in the doorway to his inner office. Even Lucy doesn’t know.

Whereas she had abhorred the previous principal, many of them in fact, Lena adored Don Salemi. Funny, intellectual, humanistic and best of all, a movie lover and advocate of arts education, Salemi was a principal sent from heaven. Like Richard Caliendo, the enlightened principal of a number of years earlier, Don Salemi was everything Lena could ask for in a principal. If anything, Lena worried, he might be too good and get bumped upstairs to Assistant Superintendent. It was good to have friends in high places, but Lena wanted Don Salemi nearby. Big secret, huh? You know who really killed Kennedy.

Salemi smiled. If you two biddies are through gossiping, he said and stood back to let Lena into his office. He closed the door after them. Please sit down.

Resigned, Lena plopped down in her chair. Oh, before you tell me your deep dark secret, I wanted to get your okay for a field trip.

Don Salemi smiled. And said field trip would be to…

"Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?" On Broadway. She smiled. Wanna come?"

You’re teaching it again? Lena I told you…

"No one knows what the hell I’m doing down in my dungeon, and besides Don it’s a classic American play and this is an AP class."

It’s a wonderful play. I saw the original production when I was quite young, but it’s not on the curriculum and there may be some blue noses who…

Who you can handle if the topic comes up. No one knows what I’m doing in that class expect for me and the students, not even Clancy.

But Clancy’s your chairperson. Don’t you turn in lesson plans?

Lena’s smile was devilish. "As far as he knows we’re doing Our Town. Again. She grew serious. Don, I am here to teach the great works to that class. Plays like Woolf and A Streetcar Named Desire are far more complex and relevant today than the goings on in Grover’s Corners. I teach Langston Hughes and Countee Cullen as well, to instill justified pride in my black students!"

African American.

"No, Don. Black. These kids are not African - American, they are American and happen to be black! Would you call me Estonian American? Some were brought here from Africa, others came from the Islands. No matter. They are Americans! I have to break boundaries while I’m teaching the classics: social, racial, religious. They have to learn to think for themselves so that they won’t be swayed by the latest bloviator on talk radio. Works like Virginia Woolf and Countee Cullen’s poem Incident for instance, show the way. Lena smiled. So, am I fired or may I have your permission for the field trip?"

You’ll have to cope with Clancy when he finds out.

I’ll deal with my beloved chairperson when the time comes.

He might want to bring it before the Board.

I know a few things about Clancy that he would rather stay private. If he knows you’ve given your approval, he’ll go along. He won’t make a fuss. Not ‘don’t make waves’ Clancy. The two friends chuckled. But, Lena said, "there was something you wanted to see me about? So what’s up?"

Don Salemi seemed uncomfortable. It’s about your musical.

Immediately, Lena went into protective mode. What about my musical?

Don cleared his throat. You may have to skip it this year.

The hell I will! What’s the problem?

Money.

Lena snorted. I’m sure there’s no money problem for the athletic department.

Lena, you know that most of the time sports pay for themselves and then some.

"While once again any type of arts program is odd man out. Come on, Don. You know that my West Side Story did very well last year. You can’t tell me that there’s no money from that."

Oh, there was money.

Lena narrowed her eyes. "Was? Past tense? What happened to it? Don’t tell me the Athletic Department got it."

Well, er, yes.

Lena leapt from her seat, fuming. Whaaat!

Easy, Lena. The football team needed new equipment and…

"And you