What Killed Mr. Knoll (eBook)

Nanette L. Avery (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025 | 1. Auflage
172 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
979-8-3178-1186-0 (ISBN)

Infos

On a sun-drenched Caribbean island, a group of teenagers share cigarettes, secrets, and the illusion that nothing can touch them. For Nari, Marcus, Lonen, Reye, and their tight-knit circle, The Path is their sanctuary-a ritual escape before the school bell rings. But the trust they place in their charming teacher, Mr. Knoll, is slowly and deliberately exploited. Under the guise of mentorship, he draws them in-his attention flattering, his encouragement intoxicating, his control insidious. The study sessions blur. The boundaries bend. And by the time unease takes root, the damage has already begun. As the Vietnam War simmers just beyond the horizon and the island's adults avert their eyes, the students stay close, their trust deepening even as the truth threatens to unravel everything. What begins as admiration ends in reckoning. Lyrical and haunting, What Killed Mr. Knoll is not a whodunit, but a story of complicity, betrayal, and the quiet devastation caused by those who hide harm behind charm.

Nanette L. Avery writes with a keen eye for what people hide and a deep love for what words reveal. Her fiction is layered, lyrical, and laced with the kind of truths that linger long after the final page. Having spent formative years in the Virgin Islands, she brings a vibrant sense of place and quiet observation to every story. From the acclaimed Orphan in America to the haunting depths of The Colony, Avery's work traverses memory, history, and emotional fault lines with wit, grace, and unexpected turns. She lives outside Nashville, Tennessee, watches subtitled films like they're love letters from another life, and believes the most powerful lines are the ones that almost don't say everything.

Textauszug

Chapter 6

Weekends can be the preservation of the spirit or the destruction of morality. Here on the island, bars outnumber places to hang out. Aside from the occasional school function or a new movie at the only theater, night adventures carry an unspoken urgency to break free from the suffocating dullness of the rock, even if it means stepping into the risky world of adult vices.

***

“Melo’s real name is Michel Paul, but no one calls him by his birth name. It was Friday night when a white Lincoln Town Car Sedan stretched lazily along the curb, slowing down in front of us. It idled steadily as though breathing. An ultimate limo it was not, but certainly, she was oozing charisma, for the shades were drawn, and the only visible means of looking in was through the windshield. A magnetic sign trimmed in gold hung on the driver’s door read Duke’s V.I.P. Limo. Were we being checked out, or just happen to be standing in the right place at the right time? Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter, and Lysette immediately hiked her skirt, which was already short enough, higher, displaying the thickest part of her thighs. The driver’s window cracked open, expelling a procession of vibrations that can only be described as the piece de resistance of tight bass, an exposition of sound that shot up through our abdomens, through the solar plexus, and drifting up to the temple and behind the eyes. The limo maintained its low idle while the dark-tinted window slowly edged downward. Immediately, we dared each other to walk up to the driver’s door. Lysette only had to be asked once, and she stepped off the curb like she had been doing this for years. The rest of us huddled together and could barely keep our composure because we were laughing so hard. All the while, we kept rhythm to the low vibrations of the stereo, each watching Lysette saunter up to the driver’s window. I suppose that was the moment we can safely call “love at first sight.” That was when she met Melo behind the wheel of the limo. They talked for what seemed to be forever, her head and shoulders pitched forward, her arms resting against the lowered window frame while her big ass faced us and swayed with the music. Finally, she turned around and, with the look of victory, held up a matchbook and clutched it to her chest. As she stepped back up onto the curb, only the lit end of a cigarette was visible through the dark glass. And then, once again, we were standing in the quiet of the street; the music had vanished as the white stretch streamed out of sight, leaving us all begging for details from a love-struck Lysette.”

“Did she give you details?” Nari asked her sister.

“You don’t think I’d give that up, do you?” Luna said, her brows furrowed.

“Did you ever meet Melo?”

“Of course, but not a word to anyone. I wouldn’t have told you, but you overheard my conversation. One day, your big ears will get you into trouble.”

Nari looked at her sister without a trace of care, signaling she was unfazed. “What’s he like?”

Luna leaned into her sister and whispered. “Don’t mess with Melo,” she warned. “He’s fearless.”

“Are you afraid of him?”

“No, why should I be? I said he was fearless. Now, if you don’t mind, you can leave my room.”

Nari knew she had overstayed her welcome. She opened the bedroom door and shut it behind her but stood for a second, listening by the keyhole before walking down the hallway to the kitchen. She wondered what her sister meant by fearless. Someone like Melo could be a good person to know. She thought for a moment about what to eat, cookies or pretzels. These were decisions worth mulling over.

***

Marcus turned off the motor and coasted his Yamaha down the hill, but before he could get to the cottage, he could see Mr. Jaeger walking up the path from Little Beach. “Shit,” he thought as the older man walked towards him. Mr. Jaeger was wearing a white terrycloth robe loosely tied below the waist and a pair of blue flip-flops that slapped his soles with every step. He looked hot and pulled the towel from around his neck to wipe his forehead. “What brings you back to school on Saturday morning, Mr. Priam? And to the doorsteps of Mr. Knoll?”

Suddenly, as if he had been caught in the act of doing something wrong, he felt trapped. “Mr. Knoll asked me to feed his cat while he was away,” Marcus explained.

“Oh yes, that new furry creature that adopted him. Strange, though, cats are so independent. He could have just put out a big bowl of food instead of having you come by.” The teacher’s voice sounded more like prying than curiosity.

“I suppose,” Marcus agreed, hoping the old man would go to his house before his robe slipped open.

“Did I ever tell you that you have a very unique name? As a Latin and Greek scholar, I can attest to this. Priam was the King of Troy and the father of Hector and Paris. It is all in The Iliad, but you’ll learn all that next year in my class. Today is the weekend, and we’ll put school aside.” He shaded his eyes and looked up. “It’s nearer to noon than not,” he exclaimed. “Well, I’ll be getting along, young man. I hope your little charge doesn’t give you any trouble.”

Marcus got off his bike and put down the kickstand. “I’ll be back later in the afternoon; Mrs. Winn eats twice a day.”

“Don’t we all,” the old man laughed and trundled back towards his cottage.

Marcus unlocked the door and stepped inside. He hadn’t noticed it before, but the paleness of the interior made it seem as if he were walking into a plain white shell. He closed the door, stood momentarily, and called, “Mrs. Winn, it’s time to eat.” A tiny tinkle of a bell sounded as the cat came scampering out of the bedroom. “You look very regal,” he said, admiring the red collar. A plastic water bowl and an empty cat bowl stood beside the stove. A bag of dry cat food with a note was on the counter. “Help yourself to whatever’s in the refrigerator, MK.” He looked around. Pieces of linoleum tile broken off by the sink were the only thing that looked out of order; except for this morning, the entire arrangement felt out of order. The cat began to complain. “I don’t like this any more than you do,” he said, pouring some food while Mrs. Winn crept around to the bowl. He mulled the note over in his mind: MK, Mike Knoll, and opened the refrigerator. He peered in and immediately set his sights on the dark green bottles of Heineken standing behind a covered casserole. “He did say to help myself,” and reaching in, pulled out a beer. Opening the top kitchen drawer, he found the bottle opener.

He walked around the room, sipping the cold beer like a sailor on shore leave. The cottage is modestly furnished with a rattan couch, plaid throw pillows, two matching chairs, a low glass-top coffee table, and a console stereo player against the wall holding up a stack of books. Marcus shot a glance at the time and decided not to stick around. “See you later, Mrs. Winn.” But before opening the door, he caught a glimpse of the cat sitting on the counter, her yellow eyes betraying an unsettling awareness of knowing a secret. She opened her mouth and yawned, displaying her indifference.

***

Miss Dee is a peculiar sight as she strolls along her private shore, Little Beach. Her grey hair is salty from the sea breeze, and her mismatched attire flows around her like a patchwork quilt. Together with her dog, Mister, they take early morning walks along the rocky shoreline in a world uniquely their own while talking to the sanderlings as if they were lost friends.

Are dogs born spirited, or do they take on the attributes of their owners? Mister is a German shepherd with qualities that he should not be flaunting if dogs flaunt. His coarse black fur makes him look ferocious when he’s angered. The hair on his back bristles, and he displays a wide, toothy smile. Mister is virtually invisible when the sun goes down, for the night swallows him up in the darkness, and he can only be detected by his heavy breathing. By day, he rests, storing up energy like the protector that he is. The only other beasts that interfere with Mister are black grackles. Although these birds, which resemble big crows, forage for food by picking bugs and grubs, they have taken a liking to stealing dry chunks of dog chow. Some are brazened enough to stand by Mister’s water bowl and moisten a piece by dunking it with its sharp beak, fondue style. At first, Mister does not take kindly to these marauders and tries to scare them away by parading about, snarling, and jumping up. However, like other looting birds, the grackles created a sort of gang and invaded his space in small numbers. Several keep guard, securing the ground, while the others steal the food and then exchange places. If Mister comes about, they will swoop down and give him enough of a scare that he backs off. As a result, a sort of symbiotic relationship has been formed among the animal kingdom, whereby whatever can be stolen will be stolen.

***

Marcus arrived back at the cottage as the first stars were settling into the evening. The sky was dusky, turning from slate to charcoal to licorice. He wondered if Mrs. Winn was grateful that he came back, but knowing she was a cat, he decided she didn’t care one way or the...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 29.9.2025
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen
• ISBN-13: 979-8-3178-1186-0 / 9798317811860