Board Stiff (An Elliott Lisbon Mystery) (22 page)

TWENTY-ONE

I wanted Tuesday morning to arrive like I wanted a pop in the nose. I woke at six, which should tell you how dreadful I felt. The morning’s headline delivered the expected punch: Ballantyne Chair Arrested in Gruesome Slaying. Tate Keating opted for shockability rather than visibility. More words, smaller type. The word “gruesome” was a nice touch. He included a picture of Jane snapping at Ransom. I skimmed the article hoping for a bright spot, but naturally Tate left off the part about Jane being released or the other suspects being questioned.

After tossing the paper in the trash, I sped through my morning routine, which included grumbling every expletive I’d ever heard. Sufficiently scrubbed, I raced to the Ballantyne to wait for the call. No matter the country, I knew Mr. Ballantyne would’ve heard the news by now.

Carla greeted me at the door with a very large glass of Pepsi.

“Your Lieutenant stopped by this morning,” Carla said.

“Jesus, already?” I asked and swigged down a third of the drink. 

“He seemed excited to talk to you.”

“Excited?”

“Determined,” she said with a pat on my shoulder. “He left a note on your desk.”

I dragged into my office. Ransom’s note sat square in the middle. He’d cleared away every other scrap from the surface, not even a pencil remained. The phone was on the floor. I peered at his message. Two words on a postie in bold marker: CALL ME.

I crumpled it in one hand and dropped it on the floor. I didn’t need to hear anything from him. Parker left a voicemail earlier saying Jane’s arrest was on hold, which meant two things: Jane was free for her auction that evening and the morning’s headline was wrong. But much too late. The barn door was open and the chickens were roaming free.

I stared at the phone. Mr. Ballantyne had left me in charge and I screwed it all up. How did I ever trust Cherry to call Ransom to confess seeing Leo before he died? Or believe Mrs. Jones told Parker about seeing the car in Leo’s drive, especially since she was so hesitant to tell me in the first place? I gulped down the rest of my Pepsi.

My phone rang at seven-thirty on the nose. “Elliott Lisbon,” I said before the first ring finished.

“Elliott!” Mr. Ballantyne said. The background was noisy with city sounds and the line crackled. “We’re en route home. In Paris today, but not enjoying it, I must say. Vivi’s taken to her room.”

“Oh no, sir,” I said and sank deep into my chair. “Please don’t worry. The media has it all wrong. Jane was not arrested.”

“I’ve received a dozen calls from donors, Elli. Wanting reassurances their good names will not be dragged down by me.”

Oh God. I slumped down further and I felt I might faint from shame. I thought about the growing cancellation list for the Gatsby and realized I’d done nothing to stop the exodus. “Mr. Ballantyne. Seriously. I’m on it. No dragging.”

“I told those blowhards to be careful with their cancellations. They may not get another invite,” he shouted into phone. “I expect you’ll meet us tomorrow. Should be before lunch.”

“Very good, sir,” I said faintly. I cleared my throat. “Please send my love to Mrs. Ballantyne. Take her shopping on the Champs-Élysées, to the café she loves so much. Their croissants will lift her spirits.” My heart ached. Things definitely weren’t going well and I missed them dearly. “It will be so good to see you both again.”

“Au revoir, then, until tomorrow,” he said.

“Au revoir.”

I set down the phone and picked up my pen. Time to clean up this mess before they got home and I needed to relocate to Alaska. The morning flew by in a whirlwind of phone calls and promises. To the press, to the school board, to a dozen loyal Ballantyne patrons. By lunchtime I was starving and ready to catch a killer.

I conned Carla into packing a picnic for my lunch with Matty. With a plastic cooler on my arm, I hustled out to the Mini. I zipped out of the drive and down to Seabrook Prep, located at the very southern tip of the island near the lighthouse in Harborside Plantation. I parked in the lot under a shady live oak. Like most of the parking on the island, the spaces were hidden behind chunks of trees, bushes, and seasonal flowers. It was pretty to look at, but resulted in half the spaces and double the blind spots.

I followed a brick path through a short forest to the campus determined to find a helpful student to point the way to my seventeen-year-old suspect. I focused on underclassmen, the weakest in the herd. They’re still young, mostly unjaded, and eager to please. And at Seabrook Prep, easy to recognize in their white golf shirts with a logo embroidered on the front pocket. Seniors wore blue.

“Excuse me, can you tell me where to find Travis Hirschorn?” I asked a young boy who looked about twelve.

“Sure, eating lunch at his tree,” the kid said, pointing at the largest oak tree in the quad where five kids sat at the base in various stages of lunch consumption. 

I smiled and said thanks, then crossed the quad at a fair trot. I had no more than ten minutes to elicit information from Travis and his crew before Matty came looking for me.

Travis lounged in the middle of the group, holding court to two boys in blue with two girls in between, sitting boy girl boy girl. All wearing identical uniforms, though somewhere along the way, a tailor had altered the girls’ uniforms to show off their blossoming assets and shiny new navel rings. It must be hard to scratch out your own identity when everyone at school shows up in the same outfit day after day.

“Hello, Travis,” I said. “Remember me?”

He stared at me. Grief, anger, and uneasiness radiated from his very pores, but he didn’t say a word. This would not be easy.

“And which one of you is Derek?”

The boy on my right nodded once in my direction.

Talkative bunch.

“Okay, Travis, I’m just following up on last Saturday night. You mentioned you were at Derek’s house?”

Derek spoke up. “Yeah, he was at my place. Went to a movie, dinner, then we crashed in my room. Totally kick back.”

I nodded sagely. “Sounds solid. Except for the part where I spoke with your mom, Derek. She said you and Travis here haven’t had a slumber party in months.”

The girls looked at each other, then at the ground. The girl on the left was white with shiny blonde hair streaked with pink; the other girl was black with shiny black hair streaked with blue. And the boy opposite Derek had a red face and a sudden flurry of texting to do on his cell.

“Hey, it’s none of your business, anyway,” Travis said. “I don’t have to tell you anything.” He stuck his chin out, then took a long swig of his Snapple. Hard to look tough toting a Snapple.

“I see. Okay, then how about we move on to Plan B?”

Travis squinted at me. “Plan B?”

“Yes. I go over to Mr. Gannon’s office,” I said and held up my cooler. “Which I’m headed for anyway. We’re very close friends, having lunch today as a matter of fact. Then I tell him several of his students,
senior
students who would like to graduate at the end of the month, are obstructing a murder investigation. Of course, he’ll be very unhappy upon hearing that news. I’ll suggest we phone up all of your parents, including you two hotties here in the front row, get the police down here, and find out what exactly went on last Saturday night. Plan B.”

“Wait, you guys—” she of the blue streak said.

Panic flooded the face of pink streak. She grabbed her friend by the arm. “Ashley, no. My parents will totally kill me.”

“Mine will too if I don’t graduate. I’m going to
Princeton
.”

Travis finished his Snapple with less snap in his attitude. His eyes bounced between the streaks, a trace of fear etched on his face.

I watched the two girls debate silently, trying to decide which fate was worse: exposing their misdeeds now or facing their parents later.

But it was Derek who finally broke. “And if we tell you where we were? You’ll drop the whole thing?”

“You promise and swear?” Pink Streak added.

“Pinkie swear and cross my heart. I won’t tell and will erase my memory immediately,” I promised. Since I had never planned on dragging Matty into this anyhow. I rolled my hand in a let’s-get-this-moving gesture. “Spill.”

“Okay, look,” Pink Streak said. She twirled her hair around her finger. “My parents were out of town and I maybe had some people over.”

“For the night?”

“For the weekend,” she said. “It’s not a big deal or anything. It’s just that I sort of was supposed to be staying at Ashley’s. But seriously, why let the whole house sit empty, right? I mean, someone should stay there to, you know, watch over it. I was really doing my parents a favor.”

“Uh-huh,” I said. “And how many people helped you with this favor?”

“Just us,” she said and waved at her peeps. “Maybe another couple.”

“And Sylvie, too,” Ashley of the blue streak said. She nodded toward the boy with the mad texting skills. “That’s Drew’s girlfriend, but she’s out today. I think she’s got the flu.”

I casually stepped back in case flu germs were circulating in the immediate area. “Go on,” I said, prompting Pink with another hurry-up hand roll.

“Well, Travis was with me all night. With us, all night. I swear,” she said. “He didn’t know about his dad’s, well, um, you know, his dad until the next day.”

“Do you have any proof? Other than your undoubtedly sincere and honest word for it?”

Drew handed me his cell phone. It was a fancy touch screen model opened to a photo album section listing fifteen pictures, all dated the night Leo was murdered, between ten and two-thirty the next morning. I opened one, then skimmed through the rest. Travis and Pink Streak were lip locked through most of them, as were another couple. It looked relatively tame. Less than a dozen beer bottles scattered around and a pile of pizza boxes. No hard booze or drugs that I could see.

“I’m not sure how convincing this evidence would be to a jury,” I said. “But it’ll work for me. For now.” I’m not sure it’s possible to fudge the time and date on a cell phone. I think those suckers are wired into some sort of satellite time trigger unchangeable without a top secret launch code and level five clearance. But hey, what do I know?

I handed back his phone. “Don’t erase them.”

“Why not? I can’t keep them forever. I don’t have that kind of memory, dude.”

“Because, dude, it’s the only thing that clears you of murder.” I turned to Travis with my most serious face. “I’m off to see Headmaster Gannon. If I have more questions, I’ll expect you to answer them.”

I sauntered off like I meant business. I was so intent on my exit, I almost slammed right into Matty.

“Hey, Elli,” he said with a smile. “Good to see you.”

“Hi,” I said. I didn’t know if we were supposed to hug or kiss or something. We usually did both—the friend kind, not the friendly kind—but after the big sex kiss, I didn’t know what to do, so I lifted the cooler instead. “Hungry?”

We walked over to a picnic table at the edge of the quad and I unpacked our lunch: three homemade honey pecan chicken salad sandwiches (with sliced red grapes and light mayonnaise), a large tub of sliced fruit (cubed watermelon, honeydew, and cantaloupe), and four chocolate brownies (with frosting, without nuts).

“The Gatsby is tomorrow at the Big House,” I said. “Would you like to come?”

“Like a date?”

“You’re always my date, Matty.”

“How about a real date? I’ll pick you up and we go together.”

“Mr. Ballantyne comes home tomorrow, so I’ll be there all day. But I’ll let you drive me home.”

“Even better.” He touched my fingers with his and my stomach actually fluttered. “I enjoyed the roast the other night. Maybe next time we can dance under the stars.”

“I’d like that,” I said and almost giggled. Holy crap, I thought. I think I’m nervous.

I watched him arrange our lunch like a picnic. He somehow managed to look laidback in a plaid tie and faded blue button-down. Academic, athletic, outdoorsy. I imagined half the girls on campus had a crush on him. Easy on the eyes and smelled like the sea, a lively mix of clean and salty.

“So how’s Travis?” he asked.

“You noticed?”

“You’re the only girl on campus not in uniform. Plus, you’re pretty hot in that sexy little skirt.” He took a large bite of his first sandwich. “You questioning Travis about his father’s death?”

“Yes, but just a follow-up question. How’s Travis been lately? He seems like a kid in turmoil. More than just his father’s passing.”

“A little moody, I guess, but a good kid. Having a hard time. Worse now.”

“What kind of hard time? Girl trouble? Problems at home?”

Matty slowly wiped his fingers on a paper napkin, one at a time. Forearms on the table, eyes slightly narrowed. A subtle shift from casual to cautious.

“I’m just trying to understand the kid,” I said. “Something’s on your mind.”

“College. It’s tough this time of year for seniors. He couldn’t go to Duke. Too expensive. He was going to have to settle on his second choice.”

I glanced over my shoulder at Travis who was smiling and drinking his Snapple. “Was?”

Matty finished his sandwich. He casually tossed the wrapper into the cooler. Then he picked up his second sandwich, slowly unwrapping the clear plastic wrap. He bit into the corner, taking more time to chew than recommended by nine out of ten medical professionals.

“Was,” he said.

“So he
is
going to Duke in the fall?”

“Yes.”

“When did this happen? Before or after his father was killed?” This could actually be something. My skin started to tingle and I ditched my sandwich in favor of a brownie.

“Elli, I don’t like you questioning me about a student. Doesn’t seem right. Travis had nothing to do with his father’s death.”

“Then it can’t hurt to tell me.” I licked frosting from my thumb. “Was it after?”

Matty speared a watermelon cube. Then a cantaloupe wedge. The bell rang and several students scurried by with backpacks on their backs, tossing empty paper bags into the trash bin.

“So before? How soon before? Right before?” I asked.

Travis could’ve found out about the hidden stash of money and cooked up a way to get his hands on it. Or maybe his mother told him about the life insurance policy. Off dear old dad and Duke U here I come.

“Okay, so he just went up a notch on my list.”

“Stop, Elli. You’re way off base, here.”

“Hardly. He had motive and opportunity and his alibi is shaky at best.”

“Alibi? He doesn’t need an alibi.”

“Of course he needs an alibi. He wouldn’t be the first kid to kill his father. Why are you so rankled?”

“You can’t come onto my campus and accuse one of my students of murder. You have no right, no authority.”

“Authority? It’s a free country.” I tossed the fruit tub and waded papers into the cooler and snapped it shut. “I can question whomever I want. Including a spoiled brat who decided to off his dad so he could go to the college of his choice.”

“Did you have lunch with me just to get to Travis?”

“You asked me to lunch, remember? You know I’m investigating Leo Hirschorn’s murder.”

“You can’t investigate a murder. You have no business getting this involved.”

No business? I flew to my feet. “You are not the boss of me.” I snatched my cooler and stomped away with my head held high. Ten feet later I cracked my shin on a bench I hadn’t noticed with my nose stuck in the air. I bit back a saucy expletive and kept marching.   

Well, that hour sucked. I managed to both secure Travis’s alibi and confirm his motive, all the while irritating the crap out of Matty for no real reason, because I actually believed Travis’s alibi more than I bought into his guilt. So why was I picking a fight? Because I didn’t like Matty pointing out the truth, that I shouldn’t be bullying kids in a schoolyard? He was only protecting his students.

Great. I’m a terrible person.

I reached my car and my breath caught in my throat. Every tire was slashed clean through. Shredded rubber created four flats and someone had pinned a note beneath the driver’s side windshield wiper. I slowly approached and lifted the top flap. I read the words scratched in sloppy black marker on a torn sheet of notebook paper: STEP OFF OR YOUR NEXT.

I looked over my shoulder, then spun around. The lot was filled with long creepy shadows and empty cars. I heard a twig snap behind me. The slow crunch of a footstep on gravel.

I clutched the cooler and my purse and ran with everything I had.