Final Exam (12 page)

Crawford put his hand on my shoulder. “Let’s get the whole story before we jump to conclusions.”

“There aren’t any conclusions to jump to!” I said. I thought about everything that Max had been through and the pain that she was in, thinking that her marriage was falling apart, even if she was the one that had precipitated it. Selfishly, I thought about how having her living with me, even if it had only been for a few weeks, had upended my carefully crafted solo existence. I thought about Kevin and how he had probably thought he was doing everyone a favor at the time. I looked around the desk and picked up the first thing I saw and threw it at Kevin. The log-in pad hit him squarely in the chest and the look of surprise on his face would have made me laugh if I hadn’t been so irate. “They’re not married?” I said for the third time. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

The outer door opened and I saw a group of students coming into the building, probably on their way back from the cafeteria. I was pretty confident that they were all residents and didn’t need to be checked in, which would have been impossible given that the log-in pad was on the floor next to Crawford. I smoothed my hair down and took a deep breath, greeting the students when they entered the lobby area. Crawford handed me the pad and gave me a look that cautioned me to get a hold of myself.

After the students had started up the stairs and I was confident they were out of earshot, I asked Kevin to explain what had happened.

“The cardinal has it in for me!” he cried, running his hands through his blond mop. “I’ve been under a microscope. You know that. And it’s been a few years since my last wedding so they looked at Max and Fred’s paperwork a little more closely.” He slumped in his chair. “Seems the cardinal has a mole in Most Precious Blood. It wasn’t hard to figure out.”

Most Precious Blood was the local parish that sat just outside the gates of St. Thomas. “What does Most Precious Blood have to do with this?”

Kevin stared at his shoes. “In order to perform weddings on campus, I need to have delegation from the local parish. When Max and Fred got married, I didn’t ask for delegation, so the wedding is invalid.”

“What does that even mean?” I asked.

Kevin looked at me blankly.

“What’s delegation, why do you need it, why didn’t you ask for it, and how did Most Precious Blood find out?” I asked. Church law is extremely confusing but it didn’t surprise me that there was an arcane rule on the books that governed who could get married—or who could marry—a couple in the college’s chapel. “Answer those questions in the order in which I asked them, please,” I said.

“First, delegation is permission. The college is governed by the local parish, technically. I need permission to perform weddings so that they are on the books at MPB.” He crossed his arms over his chest in a defensive posture, sure that his next answer would warrant my throwing the telephone at him. “Let’s just say I have a ‘history’ with the pastor at MPB and that’s why I didn’t ask for permission,” he said.

I held up a hand. “I don’t want to know.”

Crawford sighed sadly.

“And one of our former students was at the wedding ceremony. She was looking at the St. Thomas chapel for her own upcoming wedding and wanted to see how things were done.”

“And she’s a parishioner at MPB,” I stated, everything starting to come together for me. “That’s how they found out. Through the quote mole.”

“Exactly,” Kevin said.

I glared at him. “So now what?”

“We have to tell them.” Kevin looked at Crawford for support.

“We?” I asked. “We are not a team in this, Kevin. You are flying solo on this one. I’m not the one who has a ‘history’ with the pastor at Most Precious Blood.”

Crawford, always sensible, chimed in after his extended silence. “Why don’t we sit on this for a few days until
you,
” he said, pointing at Kevin, “have a chance to digest this and figure out a way to make it right, and
you,
” he said, pointing at me, “aren’t quite so emotional.”

Another group of students walked in and I smiled, pretending that there was nothing wrong. Kevin greeted a few of them by name and chatted briefly with one kid I recognized from the house meeting. Behind them was the delivery guy with my dinner.

I peeled a couple of bills off the wad I had in my pocket and handed it to him. “Keep the change,” I said, putting the bag with the food behind me on the computer desk.

Kevin looked at the bag wistfully. “That smells good.” After what he had been through and what he had learned, I was surprised that he was able to eat.

I took the bag and pushed it at his chest. “Take it. I don’t have an appetite.” I turned and walked to the area behind the desk, stepping through a pair of French doors that led to a little patio area, where one of the students had left a plastic deck chair that had seen better days. I wiped off the dead leaves and layer of dirt and sat down, leaning my head on the stone railing. I had a bird’s-eye view of the river and concentrated on that.

Trixie followed me out to the patio and rested her head in my lap. Siena sits high on a hill on campus, and from this vantage point, one that I didn’t know existed, I had a panoramic view of the campus. The stone was cool against my hot cheek and I turned so that I was looking north, up the river, as the expression goes. Crawford stayed inside, presumably still talking to Kevin.

I rubbed Trixie’s head absentmindedly, thinking about the situation. Max was mad at Fred and had left him for a transgression that in my book would be considered minor. But let’s not forget the lying, cheating fraud that my ex had been and consider where I was coming from; the lies had to be pretty bad in order for me to consider them divorceworthy. Fred wanted her back. Max had said the D-word once but I had made her promise that going ahead with any kind of legal action was a last resort. She had to try to work things out or at least hear Fred out.

But like I had thought more than a few times since this whole situation had begun, the simple truth was that Max wanted out. And fast. And using Fred’s past dalliance with a woman he now worked with as an excuse was her way of making it happen.

So how would she feel when she found out that she wasn’t really married? I had a feeling Fred would be devastated because he took the union very seriously. But Max? Would she be relieved once the truth was out?

I had no hope of answering these questions now because I had to return to the desk and finish up my tour of duty. I fixed my gaze on the gazebo that stood right next to the river in the middle of a copse of trees. Max and Fred had had a few wedding pictures taken there after their ceremony in the St. Thomas chapel. I saw a figure in the gazebo, which didn’t surprise me, given the beautiful sunset and the mild temperature. It was obviously male.

And from where I sat, high above the rest of the campus, I could tell that it was Wayne.

I stood up so suddenly that the chair flew back and Trixie yelped in surprise. I ran into the lobby, past the desk, Trixie at my heels, barking madly. Crawford was lounging in the chair that had been vacated by Kevin, his head whipping around as I sailed past.

“It’s Wayne!” I said, and hit the first door with the palm of my hand. “He’s in the gazebo.” I ran down around the back of the classroom building, past the convent, and continued toward the river. Trixie, delighted to be enjoying an evening run, was at my heels, her tongue hanging out, not as out of breath as I was.

God, I have got to get into shape, I thought as I rounded the corner, the gazebo no more than a hundred feet in front of me. “Wayne!” I screamed, my heavy clogs making my footfalls sound like cannonfire in my ears.

He was wearing a St. Thomas baseball hat tonight and I saw the top of it peek over the gazebo. As I got closer, he stood up straight and took off like a shot out of the gazebo.

I was officially out of breath. I bent over and started coughing violently. The last exercise I had gotten was when I had done the chicken dance, followed by the limbo, at Max’s wedding and that had been six months ago. I took in a couple of deep breaths and took off again. But I was no match for slack-jawed Wayne’s long legs and youthful speed; he was way ahead of me, winding his way through the trees, making his way down to the river. I tried to keep up, but eventually I lost him. Behind me, I heard Crawford, breathing heavily, bearing down on me.

Crawford caught up to me and stopped, his breath labored, but not as much as mine. “Was it him?”

“I think so,” I said, panting. “I lost him. He’s probably halfway to Spuyten Duyvil right now,” I said, figuring he would make his way along the riverside train tracks to the next station stop. I put my hands on my hips and bent backward in an attempt to keep my muscles from seizing up.

We passed the gazebo, which was empty, and followed the road that led back up to the main part of the campus. On our way, Trixie following dutifully behind us, we ran into Amanda making her way down to the river.

She looked a little stunned when she realized the trio approaching her consisted of her RD, a cop, and a golden retriever. She stopped in her tracks, attempting to make it look like she was heading to the dorm she had just passed instead of on her way down to the river. She adjusted her glasses. “Is that you, Dr. Bergeron?” she asked innocently.

If she couldn’t tell, she had bigger problems than a missing boyfriend. It meant she was going blind. “Yes, Amanda, it’s me.”

“Oh, hi,” she said, and took in Crawford in all of his authoritative, coplike wonder. I could almost see the cold sweat break out on her.

“This is my friend Detective Crawford,” I said. “Detective Crawford, Amanda Reese.”

He held out his hand and shook her limp hand. “It’s a pleasure, Amanda.” He smiled. “Where are you headed on this lovely evening?”

I was still out of breath and knew that I was going to awaken to sore muscles and leg cramps after my ill-conceived running plan. “Yeah, where
are
you going, Amanda?” Normally I would have let Crawford handle the questioning, but I was out of patience with everyone—Wayne, Kevin, Max, Amanda . . . and anybody else whose path crossed mine.

Crawford shot me the “shut up” look.

“I have to go pick up my econ notes,” she said, and pointed. “Over there.”

Crawford smiled again. “Come on, I’ll walk with you. Alison, why don’t you head back to Siena?” he suggested mildly.

But I got the hint; he wanted to talk to her and I was mucking up the works. I slapped my hip as I called Trixie and the two us headed back up the steep hill to Siena.

Fifteen

Crawford never came back; after he had dropped Amanda off at the dorm where she was ostensibly headed to get her econ notes, he had gotten a call from Fred that he was needed back at the squad. Fred had hightailed it back from the grocery store and had picked Crawford up. He called me from the Crown Vic, the background noise and the bad connection making it virtually impossible to understand him.

“What? She said what?” I yelled into the phone. I was back at my desk in the lobby, surrounded by my tools: the pad, the computer, and the master keys. And of course my faithful pal, Trixie, who had gone back to sleep after our romp by the river. My next life? I’m coming back as a dog, preferably a golden retriever.

“She knows nothing about Wayne. She
promised,
” he said. Even through the crackling of the cell phone, I could hear the sarcasm in his voice.

“So that’s a dead end.”

“For now!” he hollered, clearly hoping his voice was transmitting.

“Call me later!” I called back. I had heard all I needed to hear. Amanda was a liar. She had been heading down to see Wayne, plain and simple. She knew he was on campus. And if she knew he was somewhere on campus, chances were she knew where he was living. She was on to me, though, and she knew that I knew it. I’d have to play this very carefully.

Mary Catherine Donnery came skipping down the staircase into the lobby, her perky breasts jostling up and down under her flimsy camisole top. My boobs had never looked like that, and now, with them on the short side of forty, never would. “Bye!” she called breezily, a rosy red rising in her dewy cheeks. Something told me that she and Mr. Columbo weren’t playing his preferred sport of basketball.

I looked at my watch and saw that it was a few minutes after curfew. “Hey, Mary!” I called. “I forgot to jot down your dorm and room number.”

She stopped, obviously not in the mood to chat and knowing that there would be the possibility of repercussions for her tardiness. “DePaul, Room thirty-two.”

I might need to locate her at a later date to talk about Wayne and fumbling around for her room number in the college intranet would be beyond my hacking abilities. I jotted it down on the pad, ripped off the piece of paper and shoved it into my pocket. She flounced out the door and into the night, her “picking up of the book” complete.

The night was progressing nicely with Kevin up in his room, probably licking his wounds, most of the students returning from wherever the night had taken them. Amanda had returned too, but had hurried up the stairs, leaving us without the chance to talk. At around eleven-thirty, I decided to take Trixie out for her final walk before putting the dorm on lockdown and calling it a night.

The night had gotten chillier, and I pulled the hood up on my sweatshirt in an effort to keep my neck warm. I crossed my arms and, like almost every other time I walked her at a late hour, implored Trixie to hurry up. Not that it made any difference. She was going to go when she was good and ready and that fact would never change. We were at the edge of the cemetery and I wasn’t venturing in any farther; it was scary enough in the daylight so I couldn’t imagine what it would be like at close to midnight. I had locked the front door before I left and I watched it so I could see any students approaching and needing entrance.

Trixie was remarkably cooperative and took care of business quickly, which I bagged and took back with me to the front door. I fumbled around in my jeans pocket for my keys, coming up with the slip of paper with Mary Catherine Donnery’s information on it as well as the extra cash I had in there from dinner. I finally reached them and pulled them out, the old, black antique one getting stuck on a thread in my pocket.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and when I turned to see who it belonged to, I noticed a heavy gold bracelet hanging from the wrist to which it was attached. I turned slowly and came face-to-face with the man who had been looking for Wayne earlier.

“Hello,” he said flatly.

I stared into his impassive black eyes. “Hi.”

Trixie looked up at him as if he were the friendliest person she had ever met. Whatever menace he had suggested to her before had been erased, by what, I had no idea.

“Mr. Brookwell. I have some questions about him.”

Me, too, I thought. “I haven’t seen him,” I lied. “Nor will I.” I ruminated momentarily on the fact that in spite of the suggested danger of the situation, my grammar was impeccable. If Sister Mary and I were speaking and not locked in a perpetual battle of wills, she would have been so proud.

“Oh, that’s not true,” he said, smiling slightly. “You’ve seen him, I bet, and you know where he is.” His grip on my shoulder tightened. “So what do you have to say?”

“Please remove your hand from my shoulder,” I said. “That’s what I have to say.”

In the distance, I saw a St. Thomas shuttle bus pull into the auditorium parking lot, just a few hundred feet from where I was standing. Relief flooded my body as I realized that it was delivering some sports team from some sporting event. I also knew that all of the guys on the various teams lived in my dorm. I relaxed slightly. They were on their way home and they had bats, sticks, balls, and various other types of equipment that could be used defensively, if necessary. “You’re from Jersey, huh?”

“What?” he asked, confused. Having lost control of the situation and the hold on my fear, he wasn’t quite sure how to respond.

“Jersey. Which exit?” I asked. “I have a cousin who lives in Parsippany.”

“What the hell are you talking about, lady?”

I saw a group of male students disembark from the shuttle bus and collect their stuff from the equipment manager, who was pulling lacrosse sticks and pads out from the storage space under the seating area. I recognized Bart Johannsen and a couple of other guys from the dorm, two of whom made Crawford, a strapping six foot five, look like a ninety-eight-pound weakling. Their excited voices—they must have won—carried across the parking lot in the still night air.

The man turned and looked at the boy-men walking toward us, twenty strong. He looked at me.

“Still want to do this?” I asked him. “Because, see those guys? They would just love to have an excuse to open your skull with one of their lacrosse sticks,” I said, a little sick at the thought but happy to have that in my threat arsenal. “They get a little
Lord of the Flies
after a win.” I let go of Trixie’s leash and she ran toward the group, who were as excited to see her as she was to see them. It had only been a few days, but she had made a few friends.

He blanched a little bit and that’s when I knew I had absolutely nothing to fear from this pinkie-ring-wearing, Neil Diamond doppelgänger. The man melted away into the night, as silent leaving as he was when he sneaked up on me outside the door to the dorm. I couldn’t go to a rarely used public restroom in the main building without running into two nuns yet Wayne Brookwell was hiding in plain sight and Mr. Jersey was skulking around unnoticed, as well. I didn’t see his car and didn’t know how he was going to get where he was going—Jersey, I presume—but he hurried down the same hill that I had run earlier in the evening and disappeared.

The surge of adrenaline I had felt upon encountering him and then talking myself out of the situation left my body weak even though I now was pretty certain he wasn’t a threat. The team members approached, Trixie in the middle of her new pack, and greeted me. I let them in, double-locked the door, rechecked every door on the first floor to make sure it was dead-bolted and went to my room.

I rested my head on one of my new pillows from Target and, despite my keyed-up state, fell into a deep sleep, Trixie by my side.