Chapter 35

"Are you serious? IA is going after Millie? Why?" Chin demanded. He listened for a moment, then said, "She's in the middle of a case! If IA goes after her now, they'll blow her cover! Damnit! No, don't be sorry. I appreciate you telling me. Thanks, man."

He hung up, and hit another button for speed-dial. "Steve, we've got a big problem. Millie is about to be investigated by IA. If they go after her while she's undercover, they could blow this big time." He listened to his boss curse. "Janice? Yeah, I'm thinking her too. She did threaten to cause trouble for Millie, and the kind of money she's sitting on would be cause for suspicion. We do not need this, not right now." Again, he listened. "Yeah, okay, I'll do that. He shouldn't be too hard to find. Warn Millie. All right, catch you later."

Chin thumbed off his cellphone and headed for Millie's office. Snagging her Rolodex, he started flipping through the cards, not sure who he was looking for, but knew the person had to be based in Portland.
He found a curious entry in the back of the J's. It was a string of numbers and just the letter J in place of the name. What the heck?

He shrugged. Another one of Millie's mysteries.

"Kyle, Bennett, and Associates," he read, finding someone in the K's. "Sasha Bennett, Portland, Oregon. Gotcha." He picked up Millie's phone and dialled the number. This was going to be fun to explain.

Millie stared at the sixteen year-old teenage girl in the school uniform, who smirked at her. How the hell had she gotten herself into this? She had just announced she was the substitute teacher for the Home Economics class for the rest of the week and the girl had just given her lip about her stepping out and letting them do what they wanted for the whole class. She had also refused to put away her cellphone after Millie's announcement that the devices were to be turned off and put away.

Well, Michael Roseberry, the school headmaster, did give her full permission to do as she wanted with this class.

Fine.

She picked up an egg in one hand and casually strolled over to the girl, keeping the egg hidden.

"Amy Evans, right?" Millie asked, leaning against the bench desk.

"Yeah, so?" the girl shot back.

"I'm betting you're one of those snobby little brats who think this class is a roaring joke and you're only taking it for the credit, that things like cooking and baking skills have absolutely no bearing on you because you'll always pay some other poor sap to do that, and the cleaning," Millie said. "Am I right?"

"It's the difference between you and me," Amy said sweetly. "I'll always have money. You won't. And those who have money, rule those who don't, and since you clearly don't, I think you know where you stand with me."

Millie smiled and leaned close. "That's where you're wrong, darling." And with that, she slammed the egg down on the desk, right near the edge. The gooey mess splashed everywhere, making Amy shriek and raise her hands defensively, cellphone in one hand. Millie grabbed the cellphone and put it in the back pocket of her stone straight-leg twill jeans. "Do I have your attention now?" she asked softly.

"You crazy bitch!" Amy yelled.

"I see that I do. Now you listen to me, and you listen good. This is my classroom, and that means the minute you step foot in here, I rule, not you. You want to see how far you can push me? Go for it. You think this is bad? It can get a lot worse," Millie hissed. "As for your precious cellphone, it's mine until the end of class. Count yourself lucky I don't delete the contents, and trust me, I can." She looked at the rest of the class, who were staring at her, eyes wide. "Anyone else want to play stupid with me?" No one dared to answer. "Good. Cellphones off and away. Now."

There was a flurry of activity as twelve students scrambled to put their cellphones away.

"Good. Let's continue," she said, removing her hand from the raw egg and heading back to the front of the classroom.

"What about this mess?" Amy shrieked.

Millie rinsed her hand off under the tap and then dried it with a sheet of paper towel from a roll, before tossing it at the girl. "Have fun, but don't get it on your clothes, and if you do, don't use hot water."

"You can't do this to us!" Amy yelled angrily.

"Uh, Queen Bee, I think she just did," said the boy sitting beside her.

"Shut up!" Amy yelled at the boy. Then she turned back to Millie. "I'm going to set Headmaster Roseberry on you, see how fast you keep your precious job!" she yelled.

Millie laughed, getting out a seven quart Kitchenaid mixer, and placing it on the counter. "Good luck with that, princess. For the next hour, you're mine, and I would suggest you pay attention because I'm not known for standing still." She turned and flipped the oven on, setting it to a familiar temperature, then reached for the margarine in the fridge, a measuring cup, and a small spatula. "Now, who knows the difference between butter and margarine?" Millie asked, scooping margarine into the cup. When no one raised their hand, she looked around. "No one? Not even a guess? Fine. Butter is made from milk, and can be salted or unsalted. Margarine is made from oil, primarily canola but sometimes olive or corn oil is used. A lot of baking recipes call for butter, but there are some recipes that use margarine, like this one." She scraped the margarine into her mixing bowl then picked up an egg. "What the difference between a brown egg and a white egg?" Again, no one raised their hands. She cracked the egg into her bowl, shaking her head. "Jeeze. News flash, ladies and gentlemen (and that's a contradictory in terms), wakey-wakey. You don't start paying attention, you are going to flunk your assignment so badly it will be unreal. The answer is; other than the way the bird ate and the cost, absolutely nothing. An egg is an egg." She tossed the shell into the compost bucket and cracked another egg, continuing. "High in protein, used in a lot of recipes, shells are fabulous compost material, and some people are allergic to the protein in eggs."

One girl, a shy-looking girl with black hair in a low ponytail, raised her hand slowly, almost shyly.

Millie glanced at her seating chart. "Yes, Sasha?"

"Why are eggs used so much?" the girl asked quietly.

"That's a fair question," Millie said, adding flour to her mix. "Egg is a binder. When it solidifies, it basically glues everything together. Have any of you had meatloaf?" Again Sasha raised her hand. "There's egg in that; keeps the meat together."

Again Sasha raised her hand. When Millie acknowledged her, she asked, "What about the oatmeal?"

"Oatmeal acts as a sponge for the fat," Millie explained, adding vanilla extract. "Gives the meat a bit of texture and flavour."

As Millie continued with her lecture, she continued to bake. Fifteen minutes later, she was pulling her first batch of dried pineapple and white chocolate chip cookies out of the oven. Ten minutes later, she had the second batch ready. She put the cookies on a tray and instructed the class to take one each.

"This is a very simple recipe, and it's one of my favourites because the base is always the same, but I can change up the add-on's as I want to," Millie explained. "Your homework tonight is to find a baking recipe that can be done in forty-five minutes or less, and that includes baking time."

"That's easy," Amy snarked, having managed to get the egg cleaned up, but not before getting it on the floor.

"Not really. You see, you're going to be baking that recipe and giving it to the school staff at the end of the week," Millie said, smiling. "You will be graded on your efforts, the simplicity of the recipe, your food safety, and how well you perform the prep work, which will include budgeting and shopping."

"Wow," Sasha breathed, looking excited about the prospect.

"Your budget limit will be thirty dollars, cash only," Millie said. "So look carefully. Plan carefully. And no credit cards allowed; you will lose marks because you'll be handing in the receipts as part of your assignment, which means I'll know."

"That's not fair!" Amy snapped.

Millie smiled brightly, spreading her hands. "Welcome to the real world, sweetheart! My rules, my way, but if you want to get stupid, that's fine too! I have a recipe for that, if you're interested." Then her eyes went cold. "It's called Automatic Failure. Would you care for a taste?"

Amy gulped.

P.E. sub is DDG!

OMG! He ran circles round T-Boy!

He be killing us...

I wanna marry him!

I want 2 die I hurt so much

Steve grinned at the sweating, moaning, and groaning students laying on the grass. He was breathing a bit hard, but otherwise he was fine.

"Seriously?" he asked, hands on his hips.

"Let me guess; this was just breakfast for you," one of the students groused, panting.

"Snack," Steve shot back. "I go hiking on the weekends and a daily run during the week."

"He's gonna kill us," another student moaned.

Steve grinned even wider. "Half of you are already flunking this class. A quarter of you are well on your way to that, and the other quarter stand a chance. Just," he said. "And this is supposed to be one of the best private schools on the island?"

"Oh come on, man! Most of us are gonna be too busy with college to care about phys ed," another student, Tyler Metcalf, whined.

"First of all, it's Mister Houston to you. Second of all, obesity is one of the biggest growing health issues in the nation," Steve shot back. "What you do today will decide your health tomorrow. Thirdly, that apparent lack of respect just cost you a lap around the track."

"What!" Tyler yelped.

"I can make it two," Steve threatened. "Up and at 'em. Let's go." Moaning, Tyler got up and started a loping run around the high school track. "As for the rest of you, you might want to start on those stretches before your muscles start cramping up. It can get real painful, real fast," he said, sitting down on the grass and stretching his legs out in front of him.

As the exhausted students started doing the same thing he was doing, he mentally reviewed what he knew.

Two days ago, a student from a prestige private high school had been found dead in an area of town known for trouble. Her name was Tasha McConnors, and she had been shot in the back of the head at close range, and left at a bus stop, made to look like she was simply sleeping, until someone had tried to wake her up.

Her wallet, which had contained her school identification, had still been in her backpack, along with a notebook that contained pages of written code no one could make heads or tails of. Also, the girl had been in street clothes and carrying about forty dollars in small bills, which had been left untouched. The same with her cellphone, once Chin had gotten it unlocked.

The last message she'd sent had been to someone named brascohill1881 . There had been no name attached to the address, just a message.

Following B. Perv is up 2 ST again.

There had been a reply, but it had never been read.

BC.

Photos showed the girl and another girl, some in selfies, giggling at the camera, during what looked like some kind of carnival, but beyond that, there was nothing worth killing a sixteen year-old girl over.

Now, Steve, Millie, and Kono were undercover at the school, trying to find out what it was that Tasha knew that got her killed, and who brascohill1881 was, before someone killed again.