The Devil Makes Three (15 page)

“Why don’t you ask him?”

“I did. He wouldn’t answer. He said he couldn’t.”

That certainly didn’t instill confidence. Did Agent Cade really consider me a suspect in Martins’ murder?

“You seem like a good girl, Gretchen. If you’re involved in something you can’t get out of, I’d like to help,” he said.

“I’m not involved in anything. Your brother’s radar is just screwed up. He found the funeral home address on a scrap of paper on a corpse and he’s trying to figure out what it means. I keep telling him I never saw the guy, but he doesn’t seem to believe me.”

“Who was the corpse?”

“Some guy. A druggie and a loser. Not our normal clientele.”

“Why is he talking to you instead of your father?”

A million thoughts crossed my mind at once. What did he care? Why was he here suddenly after ignoring me, acting all concerned and attentive? Did he actually expect his behavior to inspire trust?

“Did your brother put you up to this?” It seemed very possible Agent Cade might use his brother to get to me, if he thought Collin was in a position of respect or admiration from me. 

“What? No he didn’t put me up to this.”

“Why are you here? You ran out of my apartment like I had the clap then ignored me for over a week and now you’re acting all concerned and I’m expected to buy it?”

“I’m sorry about that night. It was just more than I was ready for at the time. You have to see this from my perspective. If we got caught, my career would be ruined. When I came to Jamestown University I had to sign a code of conduct letter, and our activities that night clearly violated it. And what makes you think Cohen would put me up to this?”

I grimaced and began fiddling with my books. “Never mind.”

“No, not never mind. Why? What’s really going on here? Are you or are you not in some kind of trouble?”

“Depends what you define as trouble. Do you qualify? Because most people would call an illicit affair with a professor trouble. Not to mention one who’s got scores of co-ed notches on his bedpost.” I drudged the scrap of information up from my conversation with Corbin after Collin had abandoned me for the snowy road, and instantly regretted it.

His stare started at disbelieving then shifted to hostile. “You think I do this frequently? This is how I get my kicks? Attempting to reach tenure isn’t hard enough so I have to throw in liaisons with my students just to make it interesting?”

“No.” I stammered, backpedaling. Why did I say it? “That came out all wrong.”

“Came out all wrong? How the hell is something like that supposed to come out? You meant exactly what you said. You think I’m some… some…” Words seemed to fail him in his moment of anger and I turned away, glancing at the book next to me on the couch. My stomach felt ill and my head started to hurt.

“I’m sorry,” I said, turning the book pages randomly. “I’m just not a trusting person. My faith is easily shaken, I guess.”

He sat staring at me for a time. His gaze felt hot upon my hair as I flipped pages in the book. Part of me wondered why he didn’t get up and go, while another part of me dreaded it.

“Did Cohen tell you that?”

His tone shook me. Glancing up I found his gaze calculating and considering. Perhaps I had struck a bit too close to home for comfort.

“What?”

“He did this. He put these ideas into your head, didn’t he? Somehow he knows about you and me. And he’s jealous.”

I cringed. “No. Cohen didn’t put these ideas in my head.”

“I think he did. It explains quite a bit, like how he looked at you all through class. And I think he’s gotten you involved in something shady. You were terrified of me the first day of class. You thought I was him, didn’t you? He’s got something on you and he’s holding it over your head. That’s why you dropped your bag today in class. You were scared to see him. He’s making you do something isn’t he? Something you don’t like. And he’s hounding you about it. That’s why he showed up today. He wasn’t working. He came for something else. What has he got you doing?”

“Stop!” I said, slamming the book shut and meeting his stare. “Just stop alright? Whatever line of thinking you’re headed towards just stop, because you’re wrong.”

“I certainly hope so.”

I scrubbed my hands over my face, wondering what to do. The man obviously had an over-active imagination and I couldn’t let him continue with these suspicions, yet I couldn’t tell him about Corbin or people could get hurt. I remembered all too well the feeling of Corbin’s hands on my neck the first time he came to the funeral home, demanding I keep my mouth shut about him. “Please, just forget about it, okay?”

“I’m going to ask you again and I want an honest answer. Are you in trouble?”

“No. I’m not in trouble. Agent Cade is not blackmailing me in any way and… and the co-ed thing was just my own paranoia talking. I mean seriously! Why me? What the hell makes me so special that you’d risk so much? You could lose your job and your credibility if we got caught together. I had to come up with some reason behind it.” I finished, trying to stave off tears.

“And a co-ed bonanza was what you came up with?” He sounded skeptical.

I shook my head and sighed. “I just don’t see why I should get singled out.”

He paused for a moment then answered, “I don’t know why. I could feed you a lot of lines that wouldn’t ring true, but you’re too smart for that. I won’t insult your intelligence that way. But I will tell you that from the moment I walked into class I noticed you and that’s more than I can say for the other students. You stuck with me for some reason. I remembered your name and your face on that first day. It’s taken me weeks just to learn the other regulars’ names.”

“So what? Are you saying your interest in me is genuine? Not superficial and fleeting?”

He nodded in agreement. “Yes. I guess that’s what I’m saying.”

I couldn’t help myself. A wide grin broke out across my lips and my face flushed, burning the tears away from my eyes. It was hardly the ardent display of affection romance novels are made of, but then, my life was hardly a romance or a novel. It was simply nice to hear someone express a sense of value to my existence.

“What? What are you smiling for?” he asked, a small grin spreading over his own lips.

“I’m just wondering if I’ll be able to sit in class now without casting those puppy dog eyes at you like all the other girls.”

“You’ll suppress it just like I will. It’ll be our little secret.”

Chapter 13

In which business is conducted by moonlight.

“Getting cozy with the professor again? Are you trying to make me jealous?”

“Is it working?”

I sat on the balcony in the commons area, eating a donut. It was Corbin’s first call since our pseudo-date and I found his manner of greeting a bit annoying, causing me to squish my pastry between my fingers. So even if he wasn’t popping out as often as usual, he was still collecting information on me. Otherwise he never would have known about Collin and I resuming contact. The only problem I had was deciding who had the dual personality: Cohen or Collin. For my part, I hoped it was Cohen. I had noticed him lurking around campus on a few occasions which meant he wasn’t going away easily, which was irritatingly reminiscent of Corbin. And Cohen having the dual personality made sense with some of the things Collin had said that night at the funeral home, and meant that maybe, just maybe, I had a shot at a somewhat normal relationship with someone.

“What’s next for you two? Just out of curiosity. Is he going to take you out to some back street hole-in-the-wall restaurant with dim lighting and enclosed booths?”

“Maybe.”

“How wonderfully charming. I suppose the five-star places I could take you would pale in comparison.”

“I wouldn’t know. Could was the operative word in that sentence. You’ve never asked me out. Is there a reason for this call, or are you just bored?”

“I have a job for you.”

“Surprise, surprise, surprise. What are my odds of evading it?”

“Slim to none. Don’t tell me you want to quit. There’s no reason for it.”

“You do realize midterms are coming, right?”

“Yeah. And this takes so much time out of your busy intellectual schedule.”

I sighed with resignation and asked what the job entailed.

“It’s a nice, easy one for you. The coffee shop down the block from the funeral home, do you know it?”

“Of course I know it.”

“At 8:00 this evening someone will leave a key on the floor under the table against the east wall. All you have to do is pick it up.”

“What if it’s not there?”

“Then an employee probably picked it up while sweeping or something. Tell them you dropped it and need it back. It will be small and brass with some numbers etched in it.”

“What’s it go to?”

“Questions again? I thought you knew better by now.”

“Fine. Don’t tell me.”

“And Gretchen?”

“What?”

“I left you a little present in your apartment. I got it in Paris last week.”

“It’s not a bomb, is it?” I asked skeptically. Not only was I certain he hadn’t been in Paris since I had seen Cohen lurking around campus, but I also knew he couldn’t get into my apartment. I had two new locks installed earlier in the week. Cohen’s obsession was getting a little too invasive for my comfort and I didn’t want him getting any ideas like his alter ego had.

“No, it’s not a bomb. Although it does have dangerous possibilities.”

“Don’t hang up!” I hurried, recognizing his trademark, smart ass sign off.

“What? Can’t let go?”

I licked my lips and debated the wisdom of what I was about to do. But my choices seemed limited and I had to admit I needed an opinion from someone with more experience at this than me. I wasn’t used to the guilt and anxiety that went with crime. And I certainly wasn’t used to being suspected by a federal agent.

“Something’s happened and I don’t know if you know about it.”

“Enlighten me. You haven’t been spilling our secrets have you?”

“No. But Cohen approached me about Martins’ murder again. He’s fixated on me in connection with it.” I spoke slowly, certain that if Cohen’s personality popped through the phone I would jump straight off the commons balcony in abject horror.

“Really? Why is that?”

I laid out the details for him, and he seemed to shrug it off.

“He’s got nothing. Don’t worry about it. He’s grasping at straws. Just let me know if you see him again and I’ll take care of the problem.”

“As in ‘you’ll take care of the problem’?” How does one take care of an alternate personality, I wondered.

“As in, there is no reason to worry. Now I’d love to stay on the line and smooth your ruffled feathers but I’ve got work to do. I’ll see you later, Temptress.”

#

I picked up the key as specified on my way to the funeral home that night and shoved it in the pocket of my jeans. Much to my shock and surprise I found Katie in the funeral home parlor. She waved in a friendly manner and I walked over, taking a seat in the chair next to her.

“It’s my Aunt Sherrie this time. They’re dropping like flies.”

“I’m sorry. Were you close?”

“No. Once again it’s a mother thing. How’s the newest laptop working for you? You haven’t broken it yet, have you?”

I smiled and shrugged. “It’s okay so far.” Bending down I knocked on the wooden leg of the chair. “Time will only tell I suppose. My faith isn’t so hot in this model since it’s broken twice on me.”

“I don’t know what happened the first time. I’ve never had a problem with that model before you. It’s top of the line. But that thing last week… are you sure you didn’t drop it?”

“No, really. I didn’t.”

“Well something happened to it. Anyway, let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks.”

“We’re still looking for another poker player if you’re interested.”

“Thanks, but my schedule’s a little full. I’ve got midterms coming up.” I rose to leave, giving her a salutary nod.

“And your accessory business must be time consuming.”

“What?” I turned back.

She smiled innocently, but with a slight hint of insincerity. “Your accessory business. I assumed that’s what that spreadsheet on your old hard drive was.”

“Oh. Yeah. Well you know, I have to keep my eyes on the consignment shops, antique shops and pawn shops to make sure I don’t let a good deal slip by.”

“How fun. I could go with you some time. I’d love to learn how you do it. It must be quite lucrative.”

I knew she referred to the envelope of money I had with me in the computer store, but I couldn’t think of a reply.

“You sell it all on the Internet, right? I hear lots of people make a ton of money that way. I wish I were one of them. Of course you probably don’t want me encroaching on your territory.”

I shrugged, still at a loss. “It’s really not that lucrative.”

“Still. I’d love to see how you do it. Do you haggle with them?”

“Maybe I’ll call you next time I’m thinking of going.” I said, edging away and waving my fingers in farewell.

“That would be great!” Her eyes brightened and she waved back. “I’ll talk to you later then.”

#

That night I made my way out into the graveyard, making my usual rounds and checking the grounds. I found the freshest grave in pristine condition, and went back for the backhoe. Tonight I was in the market for a rather snazzy looking pair of heels that adorned 29-year-old Melissa Welton’s feet. They weren’t particularly valuable, but they would fit my feet perfectly and looked absolutely hot. Lucky me, considering most people weren’t actually buried in any shoes at all.

I dug up the grave quickly, and dropped down onto the casket after pulling up the vault lid. The shoes were easy enough to get off her dainty feet and shinned, reflecting the starry night sky.

I closed the casket and moved to the ladder, only to find I hadn’t thrown it down.

When they say six feet under, what they really mean is six feet under and for someone as short as I am, this might as well be 10 or 20. For a few moments I tried to claw my way up the dirt wall, but only pulled the earth down over me, and ruined my manicure. Next, I tried to work my way on top of the vault slab dangling from the backhoe. Yet my weight combined with the weight of the lid proved too much for the reinforced strap and with a deafening crash, me and the lid plunged down, cracking the cement walls of the vault and slightly compressing the coffin.