Shadows on the Ivy (9 page)

Maggie took a long sip from one of the cans of soda she kept in the bottom right-hand drawer of her desk. There wasn’t time to get to the campus cafeteria every time she was thirsty, and warm Diet Pepsi was better than no Diet Pepsi.

“You look like a lady who could use a stronger drink, and a sympathetic ear.” Paul stepped into Maggie’s office and offered her a selection from a box of chocolates. “Not to speak of some instant energy. I hear chocolate-covered cherries go well with diet soda.”

Maggie couldn’t help grinning. Paul was sweet, and he was trying to fit into the Somerset College staff. Besides, chocolate-covered cherries were her favorite. She reached out and took one and then, when the box didn’t waver, another. “You’ll spoil me, Paul Turk.” The sweet cream filling and cherry tartness on her tongue filled her taste buds as the chocolate began to melt. “Mmmmm.”

For a moment neither of them said anything; she savored the treat, and Paul grinned at her and then went over to look at the Currier & Ives
Maggie
hung on the wall next to her door. She’d recently moved it here from her home office. “I don’t know much about Curriers. Who was Maggie? Other than you, of course.”

“Maggie’s no one in particular. N. Currier and then Currier and Ives printed a wide selection of hand-colored lithographs featuring portraits of young ladies. Some are full figures, and some are just heads. They’re all labeled with names popular in the nineteenth century. Maggie was one of them. They were designed to be given to women who had those names, and they still make wonderful gifts. Although today there aren’t as many Cornelias and Agneses as there were then.”

“How wonderful that you found a Maggie.”

“It was the very first antique print I bought. I was still in college. It started me down a long road.” Maggie smiled at the memory, and at his interest. “Unfortunately, they didn’t do a similar series of prints for men, or I’d look for a Paul for you. Although I think there was a Pauline.”

“Somehow I don’t think Pauline would be quite right for my office,” he said. “Mind if I sit a moment?”

“Go ahead. I’m taking a deep breath. I have an appointment with a student at four.”

Paul looked at his watch. “Then I’ll come right to the point. I’d like some advice on capturing student interest in class, and I’ve heard you’re one of the campus experts at doing that. I’d like to buy you dinner, give you a chance to take another deep breath, and talk about the business of student management.”

Maggie laughed out loud. “‘Student management’? When you figure that out, let me know. I’ll buy a copy of your book!”

“Seriously.”

“Seriously.” Maggie thought a moment. “I have a lot on my plate just now, Paul, and I have to pack my van for an antique show this Saturday.”

“It’s only Monday.” Paul looked so eager, and so enthusiastic. So attractive.

“On the other hand, I do have to eat.” The calm in Paul’s eyes and manner was definitely appealing, especially on a stress-filled day like this one.

“Then an early dinner, very local—Enrico’s in Somerville? It’s not far, and pasta can be comfort food. We could eat as early as five-thirty if you want to. I skipped lunch.”

“Now that I think of it, so did I,” agreed Maggie. “Can we make it five forty-five and meet there? I have a few things to do after my next student appointment.”

“I’ll see you at Enrico’s, then.” Paul stood up. His wavy brown hair was slightly tousled in a way that was somehow sophisticated as well as casual. He winked at Maggie. “Until five forty-five.” He left, his aftershave lingering a moment.

Paul was so different from Will. Will was a big man; his body would have filled the doorway. And Will’s graying beard was not so kempt as Paul’s tousled hair. Will’s blue eyes were striking, yet comforting; very different from Paul’s dark eyes, which seemed to take in every detail of a room, and of the person he was talking to. Maggie shivered a bit. What would Paul think about her situation with Sarah and Aura? She found herself wondering and shook her head. An early dinner. That was all she was committing to.

Not a date. Just a meeting of colleagues to discuss business.

“Professor Summer?”

Maggie jumped slightly. She had been far away. Tiffany Douglass was at the door. Tiffany was almost six feet tall, but she carried the height well. Her blonde hair looked professionally streaked, but Maggie suspected Tiffany had perfected that technique herself. While most students wore jeans and sweatshirts or sweaters, Tiffany’s slacks or skirts, although usually polyester, matched her stylish tops. Today she was dressed in shades of beige, from her eye shadow to her stockings. Her gold mesh belt and the gold knot earrings were the only exceptions. When Tiffany’s parents had named her, they had unknowingly anticipated her style. Tiffany Douglass was far from rich, but Tiffany Douglass was definitely as polished as she could be considering her budget and circumstances. Her long, pull-on chiffon skirt looked a little light for a November day. That skirt would be great for an antique show. If only Tiff spent as much time coordinating Tyler’s outfits. Unfortunately, at two, Tyler usually wore something either too big for him, or too small. And his hair sometimes looked as though it hadn’t had recent contact with shampoo.

“Sorry to bother you when you’ve got so much on your mind.” Tiffany put her pile of books and her brown leather briefcase next to Maggie’s guest chair and sat down.

“Not a problem. I’ve been wanting to talk to you, too.”

“You have?” Tiffany’s straight back scrunched down a little.

“Your grades have been slipping, Tiffany, at least in my class. I haven’t had a chance to check with your other professors. But you’ve also been missing some classes. Like your ‘Myths in American Culture’ seminar—both last Friday and this morning.”

“Tyler’s had a cold, Professor Summer. I’ve been busy. I won’t skip any more classes. I promise.”

“Try not to, Tiffany.” Maggie didn’t remember any of the Whitcomb House kids having been sick recently, but children did catch colds easily. And hadn’t Kayla said she was the only one at the house this morning? Still, she’d give Tiffany the benefit of the doubt. This time. At least until she checked with colleagues to see how Tiffany was doing in her other classes. “I wouldn’t want to see you lose your scholarship.”

“Oh, I won’t,” Tiffany said, sitting up straight again. “I know Oliver and Dorothy Whitcomb have faith in me, and I won’t let them down.”

“You wanted to see me about something else, then?”

“About Sarah. I didn’t want to say too much to the cops. I don’t know what they’re looking for, but I don’t appreciate being pulled out of math class and grilled in front of the whole student body.”

“In front of…?”

“In front of the Student Union, actually. And everyone knew they were cops. Cops aren’t exactly my favorite people, Professor Summer.”

“Those detectives are trying to find out who poisoned Sarah. They’re doing their jobs. You need to cooperate with them, Tiffany.”

“I don’t know anything that would help them!”

“They’re the ones to decide that.”

“I guess. But no way do I like their style. That’s why I came to you.”

“Me?”

“I figured you’d know what I should say. And I’d rather talk to you than them anyway.”

“Telling me something won’t mean you can avoid telling the police, Tiffany.”

“But maybe you can tell me what’s important for them to know, and what’s just my business or Sarah’s business and has nothing to do with them.” Tiffany paused. “One cop said they searched our rooms today!”

“I heard.”

“What happened to our right to privacy?”

“I assume they had a search warrant. And they’re trying to figure out what happened to Sarah’s right to live a safe life.”

Tiffany’s shoulders fell. “You’re right. But will you talk with me?”

“Of course I’ll talk with you. But if you know something that would be helpful to the police, even if it’s something that seems very minor, then you need to talk to them, too.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll talk to the cops. If they ask me again.”

Maggie waited. Tiffany pushed up the sleeves on her sweater, recrossed her legs, then began. “Sarah’s my roommate, you know, and that’s worked out fine. I have a lot to do”—Maggie translated that as
I’m not around a lot—“
and Sarah is good with Tyler.”
Sarah took care of Tyler as often as Tiffany did.
“Sarah doesn’t talk a lot about her childhood. I guess it was rough, growing up in foster care, and then finally being placed for adoption and having your parents divorce and you ending up back in the system.”

“Sarah never told me she’d been adopted.”

“Oh, yeah. Or pre-adoption, or something. Her bio parents signed papers so she could be adopted when she was about four, and she was placed with a family almost immediately. An infertile couple.”

The first choice for adoptive placements, Maggie thought. Of course. “I thought she had grown up in foster care.”

“She did. Most of it.” Tiffany shook her head. “She never actually laid out a timeline for me, or anything, but I know she was in foster care before she was placed for adoption. Anderson was the name of those parents. They wouldn’t tell her what her birth family’s name had been, if they knew. She was with them for a couple of years, I think, but they got divorced just before the adoption was supposed to be finalized. A real mess. Her mom and dad both swore they loved her, but neither of them wanted her after they separated. Terrific people. For some reason she kept their last name when she went back into foster care. Courts can’t make parents love their kids. I think she had four or five different families after that.”

“That must have been hard on her.”

“It was. She hated most of the foster families.” Tiffany hesitated. “I think she was abused by an older foster brother when she was about twelve. And then she was moved to a family that was very strict and religious, and they said she was sinful. She jokes sometimes about the devil in her. And there were bad problems in her last foster home. I don’t know exactly what they were, but Sarah left as soon as she could and once told me she never wanted to drive through Princeton. She was afraid she’d see him again.”

“Him?”

“Her foster father, I guess. All I know is that when we first met each other—you know we lived together for a couple of months before we came here? Well, we were with a friend who wanted to do an errand in Princeton, and Sarah refused to go. She said no way she’d go near there. Not even to pick up dry cleaning!”

“How did you and Sarah meet?”

“She was a waitress at a diner in Somerville. I used to work down near Atlantic City, at a supermarket. Then I was transferred up here, and I needed an apartment. She’d put an ad up on the bulletin board at the diner asking for a roommate to share with a single parent and her daughter. I answered the ad and—that was it!”

“You both ended up here.”

“Sarah told me about the Whitcomb House program. One of the customers in the diner told her about it, and she’d applied and been accepted. After she told me, I figured I’d apply, too. It seemed a perfect way to get a new start. We were lucky both of us got interviews and were accepted.”

“Tiffany, Sarah’s doctor asked me if anyone knew who Aura’s father was. Perhaps he should be notified. Do you know who he is?”

“No way. She was really bitter about him. She didn’t want him in her life. I tried to get her to call him, to tell him she’d sue for child support. She and Aura deserve that. I’m suing Tyler’s father now. He was my boss at the supermarket. He helped Tyler and me for a while, but then his wife found out about it and the checks stopped and he had me transferred to Somerset County. As far away from him as he could manage. He gave me some money for moving expenses. He wanted me gone from the area. Out of his sight. And his wife’s sight. But I’m not going to let him forget he has a son. No way. Tyler is his kid, and he’s going to support him. I have a lawyer working on it.”

“But Sarah didn’t want to do that.”

“No chance. I thought at first she’d do it. I even gave her the name of my attorney. Not the woman you brought in to tell us to have wills made out, and powers of attorney, and that stuff. A real high-powered lawyer. The kind who advertises on TV and promises results. But Sarah wimped out. She wouldn’t go through with it. Even though I told her it would be good for Aura. She’d have more money, and Aura’d know who her father was. That could be important to her someday.”

“Where is your lawyer, Tiffany?”

“Princeton.”

The envelope Kayla had seen in Sarah’s wastebasket had been from a law firm in Princeton. “Just before Sarah passed out she said the name Simon. Does that name mean anything to you?”

Tiffany shook her head slowly. “No. Nothing.”

“The police think Sarah was poisoned. Do you have any idea who would do such a thing to her?”

“I haven’t thought of anyone. She wasn’t like me, you know? She never made trouble. She always did what she was supposed to do. She was a good mother. And she’d made it totally on her own. Aura’s father was never part of the picture, from the time she was pregnant. She told me she’d taken off as soon as she knew she was pregnant. Must have been rough for her. At least I had a family to live with for a while, and then Tyler’s dad gave us some money. Sarah never had any help. She wants to teach kindergarten, and that takes a four-year degree and certification. It’s not easy. Sarah should go after Aura’s father.”