Murder is Academic (8 page)

“Anyone who would choose Talbot as a victim would surely not choose me as a follow-up. Mmmmm, would you do the other foot, too?” I was really getting into this.

A knock on the bedroom door startled both of us. With a finger to his lips, Guy signaled me to be quiet. He tiptoed to the door and flung it open. Beth stood in the hallway brandishing a toilet plunger.

Guy’s jaw dropped. I giggled. Beth took in Guy with a look that said “yummy.”

“Beth, meet Guy LaFrance. This is Beth Stanford, past student of mine and probably past friend after this charade.”

Beth slowly lowered the plunger, stuck out her hand and shook with Guy.

“Was the plunger meant to be a weapon?” One corner of Guy’s mouth twitched in a tiny smile.

“Well, yeah, I guess so. It was the only thing I could find that was handy without going downstairs and searching the kitchen drawers. I heard a noise and thought a burglar was in the house. Dr. Murphy warned me you might come by, but I guess I forgot.”

“Maybe Beth assumed, as did I, that you would enter the way other guests do—by knocking on the door, locked or not.”

“I didn’t want to wake you.”

After the attention paid to my toes, I knew that was a lie.

“Like hell you didn’t. If you were so worried about my rest, why were you kissing my feet?” I had my hands on my hips and thrust my chin out at him.

“You’re really cute when you’re…”

“Don’t you dare use that old hackneyed line. I am not really cute when I’m mad.”

“I was going to say, you really look cute when you’re naked.”

“What?” I looked down at my body. I
was
naked.

I grabbed the sheet off the bed. Beth began to shake with laughter, but controlled herself enough to say goodnight and return to her bedroom, handing the plunger to Guy. She said something to him under her breath that I didn’t catch. Guy closed the bedroom door and began pulling the sheet out of my hands.

“Okay, Okay, but first tell me what she said to you.”

“As she handed me the plunger, she said, ‘here, you might need this to defend yourself.’ Do I?”

I grabbed the plunger and waved it menacingly at him. He feigned snoring.

Chapter 7

“Aren’t you taking this canoe race too seriously?” Der huffed along behind me.

He and I had left my house early in the morning and were hiking over Bear Cat Mountain to the west of the lake. When he called last night I told him I did my best thinking at the top of the mountain and assured him that he could use both the exercise and the clarity of thought that came with an increase in elevation. He agreed to accompany me. I was setting an impressive pace given my short legs.

Our hike began in a heavy layer of fog, but as we walked up the hill behind my place, we ascended out of the cloud and into sunshine.

“It’s not just the canoe race. I just seem to have a lot more energy lately.”
Must be all the sex at night stirring up the system, calling forth a sense of well-being and joi de vivre.

I hopped over a log in the path and turned back to Der. “You said you had some news?”

No suit, tie or leather loafers today. He had dressed for the hike and looked abundantly outdoorsy in a red tee, jeans and hiking boots. Uphill beyond the log, I could look down on his head as he trudged behind me. I noted white among his black, tightly curled hair and took pity on him, surmising he hadn’t the same lust for outdoor living that I had recently developed.

“Let’s take a break.” I plopped down on the log and patted the bark beside me. “Look at that view.”

Below us the lake spread out into its many coves, the sun reflecting off the water making it look as if brilliant diamonds rode the waves. I could just make out the BFS on the other side and to the north of us. The condo development perched on a hillside south of there.

“And that should be about where they’re going to locate the new boat launch.” I indicated a point of land jutting out into the water toward the bridge construction area.

Der’s breathing slowed. “The medical examiner determined from the wounds to the head and face that a shovel was the likely murder weapon. We’re searching the campus, especially in maintenance since that’s a likely place to locate a shovel and in the science areas since he had an appointment there with someone. We still don’t know who. From the mud on the prez’s shoes, it looks as if he made a stop somewhere on the lake, so we’re searching all the canoe launch sites as well as the Biological Field Station.”

“Anything yet?”

“My best clue so far is the mud. Too bad it rained the night after the murder or we could look for his tire tracks in the same lake locations. That might give us some clue as to where he stopped to get that mud on him.”

“Could a woman have been powerful enough to do that kind of damage?”

“Oh, yeh.” He got to his feet and wiped the leaves and bark off the seat of his pants. I stood and started up the hill, but I sensed Der wasn’t following me. I turned my head and saw him heading back the way we had come.

“Where’re you going? I thought you wanted to take in some fresh air to clear your mind.”

“It’s clear enough. I’ve got to get back to work. Thanks for the walk.” He waved.

I watched him pick his way down the path and around a large pine. I lost sight of him, but I could still hear his footfalls among the pine needles and dead underbrush. I shrugged and continued uphill.

“I’ll be in touch,” I heard him shout from below me.

*

The scandal broke that afternoon, and I got a heads up on it before anyone else on campus. Der found me in my office sweating over my computer and swatting the flies and wasps that decided to help me with my work. I had my head propped on my monitor and trickles of moisture ran down the screen as I struggled with a manuscript I allowed a summer deadline to run out on. He interrupted an argument I was having with myself over whether I was stupid enough to think I could finish my work in this sweatbox. Gone was my earlie
r sense of everything being right with the world. I was in a rotten mood.

“Did you hear the good news?” He was brimming over with energy and excitement as he threw himself into a chair. “Wow, it’s hot in here. You’d think that being a full professor would have its advantages, like at most an air conditioner, or at least screens for your windows.” One of the more aggressive wasps chased him out of his seat.

“Don’t get me started on perks and who has them. And if you don’t like the locale, go visit my department chair. He has both air conditioning and screens.”

“I came to talk to you. Thought you’d be a little more grateful to be the first to know an arrest may be pending in the president’s murder case.” Der smiled and slid back down into the chair.

“That’s it, a pending arrest, no names, no scoop?” There were sweaty fingerprints on the monitor and the keyboard. I took the hem of my shirt and wiped the screen.

“Well, I have a bit more leg work to complete, but listen to this. All of the people at the college we’ve interviewed so far have an alibi for the night of Talbot’s murder with the exception of Orin Withers, the student affairs vice president.”

“I know who he is.” I hit the “delete” key, removing the last two paragraphs I’d written and looked at Der. I was still miffed he’d abandoned me on our hike, and I was stuck here working while he got to do the fun stuff of sleuthing.

“I asked for Withers’ cooperation on searching his car, and he gave it. Guess what we found in his trunk?”

“I haven’t the foggiest.” I was interested in what Der had to say, but would have preferred he say it while the two of us sat on a block of ice.

“Mud, lake mud. The same mud we found on Talbot’s shoes.”

I could see where he was heading with this one, but I wanted to slow him down a bit before he arrived.

“And his motive for the murder?” I didn’t want to appear smug, but he was about to trip over his police badge on this one.

“Oh, motive. You read too many mystery novels. He was fired by Talbot recently. That isn’t motive enough?”

“He could have been fired, probably was, but the official story is that he retired from his position. In fact, he did retire, was given a nice bye-bye package, and, as I understand it, a glowing letter of recommendation from Talbot for whatever position Withers might find interesting as long as it’s not here.”

“You also told me that Talbot wasn’t one to keep his promises. In this case, Withers applied for a vice presidency in North Carolina. The letter of recommendation was glowing, but a follow-up phone call from the president there to Talbot was a little different. In a word, Talbot trashed Withers. Withers was informed he was out of the running the morning Talbot was murdered. Now how’s that for motive?” His turn to be smug.

I chewed on my pencil, momentarily stumped at the question. After a few seconds reflection, I said, “Consider this. With Talbot dead, Withers will never be able to recoup the damage of that phone call. I would bet his move would be to visit Talbot and try to convince him to reconsider the call or, at the very least, promise not to do it again on the next round of applications. I don’t see Withers as the killer type. He’s more the blackmail type. I’d wager that he would pull out all the stops and threaten Talbot with some unsavory piece of history unless the president made good on his promise to help Withers in his job hunting.”

Der’s smile of triumph dipped only a bit.

“So you think a blackmailer, not a murderer. Maybe. But you’re right about one thing. Withers did go see Talbot. They met on the lake in the afternoon. I thought that was a pretty funny place for a rendezvous between the two of them, but it accounts for some of the time that Talbot was out of his office that afternoon. The pieces are beginning to fall into place, Laura, and I for one am only too happy to wrap up this case in such a short period of time.”

“Okay, fine, and goody, but I have a few questions for you.” I swatted at a fly, missed and watched as the insect circled the room looking for a less wary target.

“Such as?”

“Did you find the murder weapon?”

“No, but it’s merely a matter of time.” The fly chose Der’s nose as his helipad. Der brushed it off.

“You told me Talbot’s car was in the parking lot in front of the administration building the next morning? How did it get there?”

“I’m still working on that. But it’s pretty clear that Withers bumped him off at the lake, loaded him in the trunk of his car, dumped him at the construction site and then managed somehow to drive Talbot’s car to the parking lot.”

“Good point, so then, there must be blood in the trunk of Withers’ car?”

“Withers must have wrapped him in plastic. We’re still looking.” Der’s smile began to slide down his face a bit more.

“You’re assuming Withers had an accomplice to help him get both his car home from the lake and Talbot’s car to the campus? Any ideas who that person might be? Maybe Tinkerbelle in this fairy tale solution?”

Der’s smile disappeared and his lips, usually so full, were drawn into a thin line, a sure sign he was not pleased with me.

“There are a few kinks to iron out.”

“So if Withers’ meeting with Talbot accounted for some of the time in that afternoon when he wasn’t in his office, what was Talbot doing with the rest of his time? And did he cancel that meeting with the mysterious science person? What about…” I was not allowed to finish as Der walked out of the office muttering to himself about amateur detectives. I certainly didn’t believe he meant me, of course. I was his little helper, wasn’t I?

“You should have hiked to the top of the mountain, and your thinking might have been a lot clearer,” I yelled down the hall after him.

Well, maybe I was wrong. Perhaps Withers did kill him. Withers with his one hundred dollar haircuts, white suits and black shirts and ties. I somehow couldn’t see him picking up a shovel and lunging for the president. He was way too cool for that scene; he might disturb his carefully coifed hair. And where would he find a shovel?

“Hey,” I yelled down the hall again. “Where would he find a shovel out there?”

Despite my expert opinion and legitimate concerns, the authorities called in Withers for further questioning in a matter of hours. The campus began to rumble with excitement. While I loathed the idea of giving in to my baser nature, I had to know what was going on, so I left for the student center to grab coffee and tap into the campus rumor mill.

Most of my colleagues seemed to be convinced that Withers was the one, asserting that only an administrator would kill another administrator, forgetting that there was enough faculty enmity toward Talbot to pollute the air in a five county area. Pollution made me think about those poor dead fish Guy and I saw on our ride. Pollution and fish and Talbot. What a line of disjointed thoughts. Yet, there was something there. I sat around the center listening to the gossip about Withers and thought about dead fish
. Dead fish. What about dead fish?

“Gotta run, guys.” I rose from the table, bid my colleagues goodbye and ran for the ladies room. I flipped open my cell phone in the privacy of a stall to connect with Der. He was in, but wasn’t happy to hear from me.

“Just one more question.” I was pleading in my best let’s-be-friends-again voice. He relented.