License to Shop (17 page)

I must admit I was also
shocked at what high school students would say — and document in
photographs — on social media.

I’d made notes for future
lectures to Ryan and Anna about it all, too.

Dr. Stubbs stopped in, to
see how we were doing right as we were about to break for lunch.
“The work you’re doing is so important. Robert strove to make the
university a better place, we need to honor his memory by making
sure that next week we wow our in-state superstar
students.”

I nodded, and was relieved
to see Penny nodding with the same weary look on her face that I
knew was on mine. The task really seemed impossible, but I didn’t
want to say so. Or even let Dr. Stubbs see the truth in my
expression.

We weren’t just looking
for needles in haystacks, we were looking for needles we didn’t
know the shape or size of, in haystacks that had more information
than most moms wanted to know. I had thought my imagination was
vivid when it came to the trouble my children could get into. But
now I knew it wasn’t vivid enough.

“
I just wanted to let you
know that Robert’s memorial service will be in the university
chapel at 11 am tomorrow. I will be closing the Admissions office
to allow everyone to attend.”

“
Of course,” Penny and I
said at the exact same time, in the exact same hushed
tone.

Dr. Stubbs looked at us,
looked at the piles of files in front of us. “I do need to ask one
of you to pick Robert’s family up from the airport, and take them
to their hotel.”

“
I will,” Penny and I
said, simultaneously again.

My heart sank when Dr.
Stubbs said, “Penny, thank you for offering,” But then she
surprised us both by turning to me, and adding, “I think Molly is
best suited to this, as she is familiar with campus through her
husband’s work.”

“
I’m happy to do it.”
Score one for me. I nodded, glad that I had won that round fair and
square. James Connery would no doubt want me to see what the family
knew, if anything, about what Robert Quartermaine had been doing
that got him killed. I did feel a trifle guilty that I was using
such a sad occasion to score points on my rival.

“
Thank you. Kecia will
give you the details.” She hesitated, and I wondered if she felt
guilty. And if so, if that guilt was for murdering a member of her
staff. I tried to picture her as a murderer, but I
failed.

With an expression that
told me she was hiding something, she said, “I would do it myself,
but I have an appointment I cannot cancel.”

An appointment she
couldn’t cancel? What a vague excuse. I made a mental note to tell
James Connery about it. He had the resources to find out what the
appointment was, and whether it was legitimate, or
murderess-related.

Henriette Stubbs sighed as
she looked at Robert Quartermaine’s office nameplate. “I don’t know
what we’ll do without him. He was one of a kind.”

I looked at her, thinking
about what James Connery had said. Robert Quartermaine had been
murdered by someone he knew, possibly someone he worked with. I
wondered if I could be looking at the face of his
murderer?

Henriette Stubbs as
murderer was very hard to believe. But then again, I hadn’t
recognized a serial killer when I sat across the table from him, so
who was I to judge?

CHAPTER
FOURTEEN

Family Secrets

I managed to slip into Robert Quartermaine’s empty office
while everyone else was away at lunch. The FBI had cleaned it out
of every last paperclip and notepad.

I put my tuna sandwich and
water bottle on Robert’s—Rob’s—empty desk. I put the gallon-sized
plastic bag I had brought to hold anything I collected.

Then I sat there, in the
quiet, taking bites of my sandwich and thinking about where I might
possibly look to find something the FBI had missed.

I tried to think like I
did at home, when my car keys, or the TV remote, went missing.
Where could a thumb drive be placed that it would be overlooked by
the FBI?

I peeked behind the desk
and the wall. It was dark and hard to see, so I got the tiny
flashlight that Seth had gotten me for my keychain and flashed it
down there.

I saw something white and
fished it out with a large paperclip I quickly pulled open into a
hook. It was only a scrap of paper, with a number scrawled on it.
Still, I put it in the plastic bag I had brought with me to hold
any evidence I collected.

Judging by the way they’d
stripped this office, they wanted everything they could get their
hands on.

I looked behind the filing
cabinet. Nothing.

I opened the bottom drawer
of the filing cabinet all the way and peeked on the floor beneath
it. There was a small brown notebook there. I put it in the bag
with the scrap of paper.

It could have been there
before Robert Quartermaine, of course, but I’d leave that for the
FBI to determine.

At last, I used my Nancy
Drew and Harriet the Spy reading experience to try the most
far-fetched hiding places. I ran my hands under the desk and
drawers to see if anything had been taped there.

“
Ouch,” I complained, when
I got a metal splinter jammed under my finger. I put my bleeding
finger in my mouth and contemplated not bothering with the last
drawer. I nearly had a heart attack when Kecia popped her head in
the doorway.

“
What are you doing in
here?” She didn’t seem unfriendly, but I definitely got the vibe
that I was on suspicious ground.

“
Trying to channel Robert
Quartermaine’s brilliance while I eat lunch,” I said.

I grabbed my lunch bag and
shoved in my water bottle, my empty sandwich bag, and the bag with
the evidence I’d collected, hoping she hadn’t noticed what was in
the evidence bag was not even close to a balanced lunch.

“
Don’t let Dr. Stubbs
catch you,” she said. “She’d hold it against you.”

I made a face. “Thanks.”
Needing to change the subject, I randomly fished for a suitable
segue and came up with, “Do you think you’ll stay here after you
graduate?”

She shook her head. “No
way. I want to go somewhere warmer.”

I could relate. The Maine
winters were definitely getting to me, too. “Good luck on your
exams next week, then.”

“
Thanks.” She lingered. I
couldn’t tell if it was because she wanted to talk, or because she
was still suspicious about what I was doing in the office. “How’s
the puppy?”

I smiled. “Jasmine is now
an official member of the family. My kids adore her. My husband is
bringing her to work with him, too.”

She smiled. “Kids and
dogs, a natural combo. Phoebe would love a puppy, but our apartment
forbids it. I’m glad we were able to get all the puppies adopted so
quickly.”

“
Who knew a fire alarm
could make a great marketing gimmick?” I laughed. “How old is your
daughter?”

“
She’s almost
two.”

“
You don’t look old enough
to have a two-year-old,” I said lightly. I meant it as a
compliment, but it was the simple truth.

She shook her head. “Is
anyone old enough to have a two-year-old?”

I thought about back when
Ryan was two, when Anna was two. “No.” I shook my head.
“Two-year-olds make us old enough.”

Reflectively, she gazed
out the window at the bustling campus. “I thought I would always be
a loner. And then Phoebe came along and I knew I’d do anything to
give her a great life. Anything. Even give up sleep.”

We shared a laugh, and I
felt her suspicion dissipate. “Good luck channeling Rob’s
brilliance,” she said. “We definitely can use it.”

She turned to leave, but
before I could relax, she said, “I almost forgot.” She came over to
Robert Quartermaine’s eerily empty desk and laid down two sheets of
paper. The top one had a single name on it, that filled the whole
page: Quartermaine.

I had forgotten that I’d
agreed to pick up the family at the airport. I wondered how they
were feeling? Shock, no doubt. Grief, of course, but it showed
itself so differently in different people. Would they be angry?
Broken-hearted?

I suddenly wished Dr.
Stubbs had given the assignment to Penny. I picked up both sheets
of paper and read the second one, which had the flight and hotel
information for picking up Robert Quartermaine’s family and
delivering them to the hotel.

“
Thanks,” I said, looking
at the time. “I’ll have to go get them soon, won’t I?”

Kecia nodded. “Yes. It
will probably take you all afternoon to collect them, and get them
settled. Dr. Stubbs won’t expect you to come back into the office
today, but do call and leave a message for me when you have them
set up in the hotel.”

“
Will do.” I frowned,
grabbing my lunch bag and standing up. “I better see what I can get
done before I have to leave for the airport.”

I stood at the doorway and
watched as Kecia went back to her desk, thinking of that last,
unsearched drawer bottom.

As soon as I was sure she
had gone back to her desk, I hurried back to Robert Quartermaine’s
desk, bent down and ran my hands under the last drawer.

To my shock, I found
something. No, not something, I found the mother lode. A tiny,
shiny, red thumb drive, stuck tightly to the drawer bottom with so
much tape I had to kneel on the floor to pry it free.

James Connery was really
going to love me. I started to put the drive in the evidence bag,
but stopped.

First, I wanted to see if
the drive had any information on prospective students that would
make Dr. Stubbs love me even more. I wouldn’t cause any trouble for
the FBI if I copied any files that would make my job easier. Not
that I’d tell Connery I’d done that.

By the time I got back to
my desk to work, Penny was already there. I thought I’d check the
thumb drive when she took a break, but she didn’t take a break
before it was time for me to head to the airport.

I’d have to check the
drive tomorrow morning, before the memorial service. I could give
the evidence bag to Connery then. I was certain he’d be there,
searching the faces of the crowd to see if he could find the
ringmaster of the identity-theft ring, and a murderer.

I wondered, suddenly, if
they were one and the same? Or, maybe, just maybe, the brilliant
Robert Quartermaine had been a ruthless ringmaster and that was
what had gotten him killed?

Would meeting his family
shed light on the question, or make it even murkier?

I parked the SUV in the airport’s short-term
parking, hoping that Dr. Stubbs would reimburse me for the expense
tomorrow. It wasn’t much, but every five dollars
counted.

I realized, as I fretted
over the amount in my bank account, that I was actually going to be
paid for a solid eight hours today. It had been a long time since
I’d known that feeling of a whole day’s pay.

I think I wouldn’t believe
it until the money had actually been deposited into my account. I
was surprised to discover I was quite so cynical.

Once in the airport, I
stood in a spot where people flooding off the plane would be able
to see me—and the sign I held that identified me as the one who was
there to pick up the Quartermaine family.

I worried that I would
miss them, or they would miss me. I’m not particularly tall, when
it comes right down to it.

When people began to come
off the plane and head toward the baggage claim area, I held the
sign up over my head, just in case. I may have wiggled a little,
I’m not sure. I had a sign over my head and felt about as
conspicuous as a garishly lit Christmas tree.

In the end, it was easy to
spot them. Three men who looked like varying incarnations of Robert
Quartermaine, and one tiny woman who had clearly given birth to all
of them.

I moved to greet them,
“Hi, I’m Molly Harbison. Dr. Stubbs sent me to get you to your
hotel. I’m so sorry about Robert. If there’s anything you need, I’m
happy to help, please just ask.”

The tallest brother said,
without a smile, “Point me to the person who killed our brother.
That’s about all we need.”

“
I wish I could.” I did,
too. My reasons were more selfish, though. If James Connery knew
who killed Robert, he wouldn’t need me to spy for him. Then I could
concentrate on doing my real work and not end up fired before I
even got hired.

The tiny woman took one
skeptical look at me and said, “Honey, bring the car around so my
boys can load in the luggage.”

I looked at the “boys,”
who all looked at me, as if the small talk portion of the greeting
was concluded. “We’ll be at the curb to meet you,” the one closest
to me said. Then two of them trundled off to baggage claim, while
the one who seemed to be the youngest stayed to escort his
mother.

Okay. Grief can definitely
take a pragmatic turn. Or two.