The Perfect Coed (Oak Grove Mysteries Book 1) (23 page)

“Nobody else was doing anything,” she protested. “I’ve made progress.”

Jake stared at her so long and hard that she dropped her eyes again. Finally, he spoke. “Susan, there’s something else. I took the moped to a repair shop, just to have it checked. Someone had tampered with the accelerator. It was stuck—that’s why you couldn’t slow down.”

“Stuck?” she echoed him in amazement. Then she said softly, “Kenny Thomas. I think he was the one who tried to run me down that night. I’m convinced of it. But why me?”

Jake shrugged and looked her squarely in the face. “Susan, your life is in danger. Someone’s tried to kill you three times. And to frame you for murder.”

“And scare me to death with wilted plants and dead kittens.”

“I think that’s someone else,” he said. “I don’t know how the two link up together.”

“We better solve this murder quick so I can get my life back.” He didn’t have to try to scare her—she was scared enough without any help.

Jake drove her home but declined to stay and eat the shepherd’s pie Aunt Jenny had kept warming in the oven.

“It’s not your cooking,” Jake assured Aunt Jenny. “I’m just not hungry tonight.” He turned toward Susan and was almost formal when he said, “I’ll take you to the doctor’s office day after tomorrow.”

Later Susan sat at the table, her unfinished meat pie before her. Finally, she raised her glass of wine and took a sip. “Great dinner, Aunt Jenny.” She was really thinking that, once more, things had gotten worse. Now she’d made Jake mad—and who knows when, if ever, she’d hear from him again. She doubted he’d just walk out of her life, but that possibility terrified her.

Aunt Jenny read her mind. “I think you’ve pushed him too far, Susan,” she said, her hands on her hips as she stood before her niece. “Call him and apologize. All that man wants to do is protect you and love you.”

Susan knew her aunt was right, but the depression that had settled on her was so great she couldn’t face lifting the receiver, figuring out what to say. “I’ll call in the morning,” she said.

She went to bed exhausted in mind and body. When the phone rang, she fumbled with it groggily, putting the mouthpiece to her ear, then finally righting it and managing a sleepy, “Hello.” The clock said three, which made Susan more alert. No one would call at that hour unless it was an emergency. Had something gone wrong with Ellen?

A high-pitched voice, obviously disguised, whispered into her ear, “Die, Susan Hogan. You must die.”

“Who is this?” she demanded, clutching the phone tightly.

There was a giggle, in the same high-pitched tone, and then the phone clicked in her ear.

Whoever ran us off the road is telling me he’ll try again,
she thought in panic.
I should call Jake—but Jake is mad at me.
Sleep would not come again, and she lay in bed crying from terror and a terrible sense of loss—the loss of her life. She muffled her sobs in the pillow, so Aunt Jenny wouldn’t hear. Susan didn’t want solicitous care right now—she wanted to be miserable. It was nearly dawn when she finally closed her eyes, and even then she slept fitfully, her dreams full of headlights racing at her… and Shelley.

Chapter Thirteen

With the morning sun streaming into her bedroom, Susan stretched tentatively… and realized that every muscle in her body was an aching mass of knots. For a minute, she was puzzled, and then it came back to her: the accident, the car that ran them off the road, Ellen in the hospital with a broken rib and a punctured lung, Jake angry with her, the threatening phone call in the night. She lay still a moment, knowing she had nothing to do the whole day, indeed could do nothing, and yet feeling a compelling urgency to get up, to get on with finding Missy Jackson’s murderer. She had to make this living nightmare end.

Sitting up in bed, she was aware of soft voices in the kitchen.
Jake must be here for breakfast,
she thought with relief.
He’s not going to stay mad at me.
She threw her ratty old terry-cloth housecoat over the T-shirt in which she had slept, smoothed her hair knowing that the comb alone would never fix it and it needed washing.
At least I don’t have to pretend for Jake.
She did brush her teeth.

Clomping into the kitchen on her crutches, Susan was amazed to see not Jake but Eric Lindler calmly seated at the table eating breakfast.

“More eggs, Eric?” Aunt Jenny asked.

“No, thank you, Miss Hogan. This is plenty. I’m not used to such good food in the morning. The dorm food… it’s not like this.”

“Eric!” Susan’s sharp voice cut through their pleasantries.

He jumped to his feet, almost stumbling over his chair. “Dr. Hogan! I came to see if you were all right.”

Suspiciously, she asked, “Why did you think I wouldn’t be?”

He reached across the table, grabbed the newspaper and brought it to her, with the headlines showing prominently: “Teachers Roll Car in Fort Worth.”

Susan groaned as she took the paper and hobbled to the couch. The article described how the two very specifically identified Oak Grove faculty members had been “returning from downtown Fort Worth”—
why didn’t they just say we’d been for drinks and be done with it?
—and their car left the road, flipped once, and landed against a tree. “No reason for the accident has been determined as yet.”

“No reason! Somebody ran us off the road, that’s the reason! Damn!” Susan threw the paper across the room.

Eric was back at his plate, slathering ketchup on Tater Tots. “Ran you off the road?” He stopped, fork in midair. “Really, Dr. Hogan?”

Susan stared at him. His surprise was genuine, she thought. No matter what Aunt Jenny thought about him, he wasn’t the one who had tailgated them last night. Susan would have bet on that. “Yes, Eric, ran us off the road.” She thought for a moment. “Can you think of any reason someone would do that?”

As Eric protested that he absolutely could not, Aunt Jenny interrupted. “Now, Susan, you leave this boy alone. He’s still grieving.”

Susan thought seriously of telling Aunt Jenny to shut up, especially when she saw Eric grin, but her love of the old woman was too strong—and so were the manners that Aunt Jenny had drilled into her. Before she could think clearly what to ask Eric next, there was a knock at the door. Susan looked up, still expecting Jake, but saw instead the face of Judge John Jackson.

“It’s the judge,” Aunt Jenny said, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Let him in,” Susan suggested.

“Oh, my!” Aunt Jenny’s hands went to her hair, probably with the intent of smoothing it, but they accomplished just the opposite. “Oh, my, what’s he doing here at this hour?”

“Maybe he’s hungry,” Susan said, “but Aunt Jenny, he’s looking straight at you through the glass panel in the door. Go let him in.”

Eric sat spellbound by the whole scene.

“Judge!” Aunt Jenny said, “What a surprise.”

“Hope I’m not too early,” he said, walking right into the room. “Came to see about Susan.”

“Join the party,” Susan muttered, and then she wondered all the more why Jake hadn’t joined the party. Sure, he knew she was all right, but was he so mad at her that he wouldn’t come to see how she was this morning?

Instead of coming over to Susan, Judge Jackson stopped in front of Aunt Jenny and in a soft voice asked, “How are you this morning, Jenny?” He grasped her hand and held it just a shade longer than a handshake.

“Oh, me? I’m fine. It’s Susan we’re worried about.” Nervously, she pulled her hand away.

“Of course.” Turning toward Susan, the judge found himself staring at an unfamiliar young man, eating a hearty breakfast. “Son, I don’t believe I know you.”

As Eric rose, held out his hand to introduce himself, Aunt Jenny fluttered, “This is Eric Lindler. Susan and I have adopted him, sort of.”

“Eric Lindler.” The judge rolled the name on his tongue and considered for only a second. “You’re the boyfriend of the murdered girl.”

He doesn’t miss a trick, Susan thought.

Eric looked appropriately upset. “Yessir, I’m afraid I am… er, was.”

“And Dr. Hogan has adopted you?” Disbelief was in the judge’s voice.

“Well, actually, Miss Hogan has been feeding me regular, says I need fattening up. But I came this morning just like you, to check on Dr. Hogan.”

Clever, Susan thought, he’s placed himself in the same category of caring friend as the judge.

“I got to go to class now, though,” Eric said. “Dr. Hogan, if I can run any errands for you, you just let me know. Pleasure to meet you, sir. And, Miss Hogan, thanks much for the breakfast.”

After he left at a dead run, Aunt Jenny said, “He didn’t even finish his breakfast.”

“No,” Susan said, “he didn’t. Maybe the judge made him nervous. Aunt Jenny, tell the judge what you think about Eric.”

“Why,” Aunt Jenny fluttered her hands in the air, “I think he murdered that poor girl and put her in the trunk of Susan’s car.”

“You do?” The judge was incredulous. “Then why,” he asked, “do you keep feeding him?”

“Well, partly because he keeps showing up here to check on Susan… and partly because if he stays around here long enough and gets comfortable enough, he’ll let something slip.”

“Jenny Hogan,” the judge said, “I wish I’d had you on the bench with me sometimes. You’d have out-tricked most lawyers I know.”

“Go on with you,” she said, going back to the kitchen. “Can I give you some breakfast?”

“Just coffee, thanks. Never could stomach breakfast before about ten o’clock. Now, Susan, tell me about last night.”

Susan told him every detail she could think of, from Ellen’s first approach to Kenny to their time in the emergency room.

“Jake’s right,” the judge said, “Jordan will want to see you. And with good reason. I’ll go with you.”

“You don’t have to bother…” Susan began.

“Bother? An old man like me hasn’t had this much fun in years,” he said with a laugh. “Jenny, where’s that coffee? Does a man have to serve himself around here?”

“Oh, no, coming right up, John.”

Susan noticed that her aunt said “John” and not “Judge.”

* * *

Jake called about nine-thirty, by which time Susan had talked to Ellen on the phone. The hospital wasn’t sure when they were releasing her—maybe not until the next day. Her first comment to Susan was, “Scott will have a hissy. Now he’s got two faculty members out—from suspicious causes.”

“I hope he has to teach the classes himself,” Susan said, “but he’ll probably give them to Ernie, who can’t wait to tell everyone what happened.” She couldn’t help laughing at the idea of Ernie Westin teaching women’s lit.

“Yeah,” Ellen said. And then, “My car?”

Susan told her it was towed to a garage and quipped, “I know where you can borrow a good moped.”

“Don’t,” Ellen said. “It hurts to laugh.”

“I don’t feel much like laughing anyway,” Susan muttered. “I’ll call you later today.”

Susan breathed a sigh of relief when Jake called, since she had been putting off calling him in spite of Aunt Jenny’s urgings. She simply didn’t know what to say to him.

He was not at a loss for words. “Sorry, we had a heck of a night on campus after I left you. Seems a coed got hysterical in her room—still don’t know why, but she began throwing things and screaming. Paramedics had to medicate her on the spot, and she’s in the hospital now.”

“What’s the girl’s name?” Susan asked, even as she was thinking that there was something different about Jake’s voice, something clipped and businesslike.

“Lawson, Vicky Lawson. You know her?”

“No. What’s she look like?” Foolish question—as if she could tell one coed from the other by a telephone description!

“Hard to tell, state she was in. But I’d say she’s part African-American, probably good-looking when she’s not going bonkers.”

“Jake! She was at The City Restaurant last night. She really was!” Susan gripped the phone intently.

“Susan, are you sure?” His voice was very controlled now.

“I am. She was with Brandy—and she looked scared to death.”

“Might go along with your theory,” he said reluctantly. “I’ll keep you posted on what happens.” He hung up without asking how she was or saying anything about coming to see her.

Aunt Jenny’s right. I’ve pushed him too far.

Dirk Jordan called in the late morning. “I need to talk to you.”

Judge Jackson sensed who it was and grabbed the phone, “Jordan, this is John Jackson. You want to talk to this girl, you’ll do it in my presence… and not over the phone, where you could, for God’s sake, be running a secret tape.”

“That’s illegal,” the officer said clearly.

“Wouldn’t stop most cops I know,” Judge Jackson said. “What time do you want me to bring her downtown?”

They settled on two in the afternoon, which led the judge to say, “Lunch at Subie’s Café, my treat.”

“Oooh,” Aunt Jenny said.

“What’s the matter, Jenny? Don’t you like the café?” His voice was almost disapproving.

“Oh, my, yes. They have wonderful pie. It’s just… well, I could cook something here.” Aunt Jenny did not want to face Margie again.

“Nonsense. It’s settled. Susan, you call Jake and have him meet us there.”

“I’m sure he’s busy,” Susan said testily.

The judge gave her a wry look. “Then I’ll call him. Most officers, even private duty kinds, are seldom too busy for a judge… maybe for an English teacher but not a judge.” He winked at her.

Susan left the room to get dressed. As she dressed slowly and carefully—
how can you pick clothes out of the closet while balancing yourself on crutches?—
she heard peals of laughter from Aunt Jenny and an occasional deep chuckle from the judge.

“I was just telling Jenny some courtroom stories,” the judge explained when she came back into the room.

At lunch—where Jake did not join them—Susan thought she caught the two older people holding hands under the table. She wanted to be happy for them, but she was too distracted by her troubles. And, she grudgingly admitted to herself, she was jealous. She wanted Jake to be sitting next to her.

* * *

Dirk Jordan was not disposed to be either kind or understanding. “Dr. Hogan, you seem to be Johnny-on-the-spot when it comes to being around serious incidents—a body in your car, a moped wreck, a car run off the road. That’s an amazing record for an educated woman in—what? Slightly over two weeks? Can you explain it? Plus, of course, that… ah, earlier incident.”