Murder is Academic (11 page)

“Finally,” Annie said, “another car.” We pulled into the street just missing my department chair’s minivan as he turned into the parking lot. He and I squealed on our separate ways, he toward his air-conditioned office and I onto the open highway. The latter offered Annie and me our first relief from the heat since we had been in Pruitt’s office.

Annie settled back in her seat to take in the full effect of the wind blowing in through the open window. I was so intent on formulating my half of the conversation with Guy I almost forget she was with me.

I couldn’t decide whether I should be angry and demand to know what he “should have told me”, or play it cool and act as if I just happened by the construction site? After all it was on my way home. Or should I take the serious and honest approach of, “let’s talk about this”? I could say his not telling whatever it was he should have told me was a breach of friendship. But that was kind of silly since I didn’t know what it was and whether it was serious enough to violate anything in our relationship. Maybe he forgot to tell me he didn’t like spinach or pork chops or women with chemically treated hair.

Annie’s words broke into my jumble of thoughts. “You’re muttering to yourself. Now that we’re at the construction site, could you let me out to take a short hike so that you and Guy can talk alone? I’d rather not be in on how badly you’re going to handle this one.”

“How do you know I won’t do just fine? I’m considering a lot of approaches and haven’t decided on one yet.”

“I know. I just figure you’re so worked up about this you’re bound to choose the wrong one.”

I stopped the car and parked it in the shade near the lake. Annie took off for the water while I trudged up the hill toward the bridge and the machinery now idle for the lunch hour. I didn’t see Guy anywhere, but the construction foreman appeared in the doorway to the site building.

“This is a hard hat area.”

“I’m just looking for Guy LaFrance. Is he anywhere around?”

The foreman walked over to me.

“I’m a friend of his and thought I’d see if I could catch him on his lunch hour.”

“Yeah, well, you won’t find him here today.” He removed his yellow, plastic hat and wiped his forehead on his sleeve. “He’s left for Canada. His wife called and said there was an emergency with one of his kids. An accident or something. They took the kid to the hospital, and Guy flew out of here on his bike at around nine this morning.”

Chapter 10

I must have driven home, but I didn’t remember how. My brain only had room for rage and the feeling I’d been duped. Nothing else mattered.

Good old Annie. She was resourceful enough to hitch a ride home with one of her students who happened to be passing by in his car. I didn’t recall leaving her at the construction site until well into the afternoon when she found me down on my dock staring across the lake.

“I thought you’d be here, and I surmised that there was some trouble with Guy, so I gave you the afternoon to be alone and think a little. Now it’s time to talk to Annie.”

“Guy has a wife and children in Canada,” I said. “The foreman told me one of his kids had an accident, and Guy was headed to Canada to the hospital. I guess that’s what ‘he should have told me’.”

Annie nodded, knowing that the ranting and the raving, the waving of hands and throwing myself in and out of chairs were soon to come. She was right. I yelled, sobbed, threatened never again to speak to a man and promised to begin a life of celibacy if not enter a convent. It was a pity Laura festival.

Throughout this session of letting it all out, Annie continued to be there, not saying a word in judgment or trying to jolly me out of my despair. It’s one of the reasons we are such good friends. She never takes personally any of what I say during these regurgitations, and she doesn’t try to solve my problems. Nor will she hold me to any of the promises, opinions or feelings I utter. I couldn’t have a better therapist than if I trained her myself. It’s Annie’s nature to be this kind of person and my good fortune to have her as my friend, and I love her.

Feeling cleansed after an afternoon of purging, I grabbed Annie’s hands and pulled her to her feet. “C’mon. Enough of this.” I took a cold shower to bring myself back to a semblance of sanity. I was now prepared to be rational about the “Guy” thing.

“We only knew each other for a short time. We really didn’t talk about anything personal between us at all, although we did spend some time discussing politics, education, the environment, you know, all the stuff that’s supposed to be part of why people like each other, shared values and such. I thought we were being smart, going a bit slow.”

“Well the sex thing seemed pretty powerful, and you two sure didn’t go slow on that one.”

“Please, I’m trying to make myself sound reasonable and virtuous here and give myself permission to really work up a head of steam I can vent on him when I see him again. If I ever see him again.”

“Oh, sorry, I thought we were beyond the irrational section of this episode and on to drawing up a way to get beyond the situation. I mean you did take a shower, which usually signals your intent to talk things out like a normal human being.” Annie settled into her former I’ll-listen-you-scream persona.

“You’re right, of course. The sex thing kind of took over a large segment of our being together.”

“You spent seventy-five percent of your time together in the sack, and I’ll bet most of it was not sleeping.”

“Some of that time was spent in the shower.”

We both laughed. I was feeling better.

“I know I’m not very good at relationships. I either want to go too slow, or I plunge into them recklessly and quickly. With Guy I thought there was more than sex. We seemed
to fit together in some important ways. Our conversations went beyond merely exchanging data on our pasts to talking about what we believed was important in our lives. I thought we were cutting through the bullshit to some fundamental connection with one another. How could he leave out his marriage and children?”

“You want to take people, not just Guy, as you find them and you sometimes don’t think data, as you call it, is important. And it isn’t, you’re right. It’s the impact the data has on one’s life that’s significant. You’re the person you are not because you were married and divorced, but because of what you made of those events, what significance you’ve given them.” Annie smiled at me.

“Have you been reading my psychology books?” I shook my finger at her and marveled at how astute she was.

“No, but I sometimes listen to what you have to say to others. It’s time someone turned it back on you, you know. I may be a sculptor, but I’m an insightful one.”

She settled back with a satisfied grin on her face, then leaned forward and began talking again. “So what I’m saying is that sometimes data is worth considering. Exchanging stories about your past is just part of getting to know someone. It tells you what that person considers important in life. Did you talk with Guy about your marriage and divorce and about your son?”

“Well, no.”

“Maybe he didn’t talk about his family because you were so closed about your personal life you led him to believe you weren’t interested in his.”

“So he felt a perfect right to keep his marriage from me? My marriage is in the past. It’s not relevant now.” I was shouting again. “Is it?”

*

Annie’s words about how I’d kept my personal history to myself continued to rattle around in my mind Saturday afternoon as she and I prepared for my guests that night. I couldn’t shake the feeling she was right. I distanced myself in many of my relationships with men, obviously a mechanism for protecting myself from hurt. With Guy it didn’t work, and I was unprepared for how connected I felt to him. He was gone, and I was not handling this well at all.

“Can I help you throw together a salad?” Annie asked.

“Oh, no, I’ve got it.”

“Just what kind of salad are you making?” She pulled a quarter pound of wrapped butter out of the mixed greens in the salad bowl.

I threw myself into a kitchen chair in disgust. The phone rang.

“Do you want to get that or should I?” Annie asked.

“You get it. I probably couldn’t remember how to talk civilly on the thing.”

Annie said little, her brows pulled together in an expression of concentration. She ended the call by saying, “Okay” and hung up.

“Well?”

“That was Der. He may not be here tonight. He just got a call someone spied a body floating in the lake. He’s on his way to the field station.”

“Okay, let’s get going.”
Nothing like a dead body to take my mind off my troubles.

“Do you really think this is a good idea?” Annie threw herself into the passenger’s seat and struggled to fasten her seat belt.

“Sure, it’s a state law to wear seat belts.” I smiled across the front seat at her.

“You know what I mean.” Her tone was serious, but her eyes signaled her pleasure at my return to my former curious, intrusive self.

“Time out from the Guy thing, at least for a while.” I slammed down on the accelerator.

“I thought I just heard your phone.”

I braked for a second, then punched it again. “Too late. Besides, the machine will get it.”

“Okay, good.” Annie clutched her seatbelt as the car shot forward.

The nosey part of my brain took control, leaving Guy behind. I felt like me again. I was driving like a maniac, a clear sign the emotional storm had passed.

“Kind of nuts, huh?” I asked.

“What, that a floater gets you high and makes you pop out of your depression? Not in the least.” Annie depressed an imaginary brake as the car slid around the turn into the field station.

I could see the red lights of the police cruisers ahead. Der leaned against his cruiser, cell at his ear. There were state troopers and a county sheriff’s car on the scene also.

“Sorry to ruin your cookout.” Der nodded to the officer to let Annie and me pass.

“So, do you know who it is? Have you removed the body from the lake? How long has it been in? Any evidence of foul play or was it simply a drowning? No, no, it must have been suspicious because you’re here. Was it someone connected with the field station? Who? Or maybe a visitor? Who is it? Can you tell?” I finally gasped for my next breath.

“Murphy, it’s so good having you here.”

I ignored the sarcasm in his voice and craned my neck to look around him toward the dock. A patrol boat was tying up there.

One of the state troopers approached Der and beckoned him away from Annie and me. When he returned, he was shaking his head. “He’s dead and hasn’t been in the water long. He’s got identification in his pocket.”

“Good. Who is it?” I was wringing my hands with both anticipation and anxiety, but Der moved away with the officer and returned to the dock.

Two men in EMT uniforms were removing the body from the boat. I couldn’t make out the face on the dead man because of the angle of the sun near the horizon and the flashing lights from the police and emergency vehicles. Besides, I wasn’t too keen on looking at a dead body anyway. I much preferred the grisly details once removed.

“Who is it?” I said again. Der ignored me.

Annie tapped my arm. “Give me your cell, and I’ll let your guests know the cookout is off.”

I handed it to her without taking my eyes from the scene in front of me.

“It’s dead. Don’t you ever remember to charge this thing?”

“Every now and then. Use yours.”

“We left in such a hurry I don’t have mine. I’ll just use the station’s phone.” She started toward the building, but an officer barred her way.

“Sorry, ma’am, we’re securing this area as a crime scene. You can’t go in there.”

He smiled at Annie. Aha! A friendly face. Maybe we could pump him for information, but before I could intercede, Annie looked up into his eyes, shoved her spectacles back up on her nose and took charge.

“Why is the building considered part of the crime scene?” she asked.

“Because the body is that of a person connected to the field station.”

“Oh. Do you know whom?”

Atta girl, Annie.

“No. What’s your name? I don’t recall seeing you at any crime scenes before. Are you a reporter for a local?”

“Oh, no, I’m with the college.” Annie twisted a lock of her hair around her finger, removed her glasses and ratcheted up her smile on the grin meter.
She’s flirting with him. Good heavens, they’re into some kind of mating ritual.
I’d never seen Annie behave so coyly.

Get on with it, I thought, then decided to help move things along. I cleared my throat to get his attention. His glance slid to me and then back again to Annie. I took that as a sign of brain wave activity.

“So if the dead person is someone connected with the field station, it could only be one of two people, the director or his assistant. Which one?”

I got nothing in return. The two of them continued to gaze into one another’s eyes and smile.

“It was the director.” Der’s voice came from behind me, startling the three of us.

Annie dropped her eyes from the officer’s and grabbed my arm. I knew we both were thinking of Beth.