Marlee shook her head. She had no intention of getting involved in Roxie’s personal business. Plus, she just did not have the energy to care what was going on with her students and their private lives right now. Marlee rubbed her eyes again. On top of everything else, her eyes were deceiving her. Marlee could have sworn Mean Dean Green was the person in the car that zoomed away from the motel.
You never really know what people think of you until you’re gone.
Chapter 7
Marlee returned to her room and without hesitation fixed herself a rum and caffeine-free Diet Coke on ice. She sat on the wooden chair next to the tiny table in the small, dingy room.
Could it have been Dean Green that was arguing with Roxie? Marlee sipped on her drink and pondered what she thought she saw. But that doesn’t make any sense. She accused him of sexual harassment, he was fired over a number of things, and he left town already. Why would he track Roxie down?
Marlee continued to think through the pros and cons of her possible Mean Dean Green siting. By the time she drank her concoction and prepared for bed, she knew she’d made a mistake. She was mentally and physically exhausted when they arrived at the hotel that night and then she drank straight rum before going to the ice machine. As she turned in for the night she knew two things: she had not seen Dean Green at their motel, and she would have to kick Roxie out of the class tomorrow morning.
An annoying beeping roused Marlee from her sleep. She brought her own travel alarm and also asked the front desk for a wakeup call. No sooner had she silenced the alarm than the phone began to ring. Since it was a small, family run motel, there was not an automated answering service providing the wake up announcement. A lady with a grandmotherly voice advised her of the time and wished her a peaceful day.
Marlee pushed back the pink flowered bedspread that was reminiscent of one her great aunt had years ago. With a deep breath she stood up and began to prepare for the big day ahead of the class. Their first stop that day was at a juvenile correctional facility. Although it had undergone a number of name changes over the years, the mission remained the same; to rehabilitate youth so they can return to society as law-abiding, fully functional citizens. Most of the kids placed there were from South Dakota, yet a surprising number came from the big cities. When street gang members were arrested and court ordered to a correctional program, they had to be split up. Putting multiple members of the same gang in the same facility was asking for trouble. They would simply reunite within a correctional facility and resume gang activities while locked up. When members of a big city street gang were arrested, the members were sent to various facilities all over the United States, including the Youth Adjustment Program, or YAP as it was termed, in Chamberlain. Juveniles from Los Angeles, Chicago, and New York all occupied space in the rural South Dakota facility. Unfortunately, they would recruit new members from within the facility and start new branches of their gangs among South Dakota communities.
At six forty-five, Marlee headed down to the front office where the free breakfast was provided. She hoped to get in some caffeine and food before dealing with Roxie. The decision she made last night to evict Roxie from the class was a decision she remained committed to that morning. She just hoped there wouldn’t be a huge scene in front of the students and other motel patrons.
Marlee was on her second cup of coffee and had already consumed a container of blueberry yogurt, a banana, and was contemplating a donut when the first group of students arrived for breakfast. They sat at a table next to hers and chatted about the upcoming events for the day. By seven fifteen almost all of the students were in the breakfast nook eating and commiserating about the early hour and their need for more sleep. At seven thirty, everyone was present and ready to depart for the tour. Except Roxie. She would not be going on any more of the tours, but Marlee needed to talk with her before the class departed for YAP.
“Has anybody seen Roxie this morning?” Marlee asked. Several students shook their heads indicating they had not.
“I’ll have the front desk call her room.” Marlee approached the front desk and talked to an elderly lady she presumed was the grandmotherly-voiced wakeup-call person.
“Can you please call the room of Roxie Harper? She’s with our class and I need to speak with her.”
“Sure,” said the clerk as her gnarled fingers reached for the telephone atop the desk. After a long pause she said, “No answer.”
“Hmmm… did she happen to check out already?” Marlee hoped Roxie checked out of the room early and left town, thus taking herself out of the class.
The gnarled old fingers rapped on the computer keyboard much quicker than Marlee could type. After tapping for a few seconds the clerk replied, “No, she hasn’t checked out.”
Marlee went back to her table. She had a dilemma on her hands. She really needed to talk to Roxie yet she could not delay the class’s first tour of the day. Pulling Marcus aside she asked him to take the class to the Youth Adjustment Program and act as the role of leader until she arrived. She briefly noted that she needed to speak with Roxie and would be along shortly.
“No problem,” he replied. “I remember how to get there, so there shouldn’t be anything to worry about. I’ll explain the situation when we get to YAP.”
The professor knew she had chosen wisely when selecting an assistant. “Thanks, Marcus. I shouldn’t be too long. Tell them I’ll be there as soon as I can and I’ll catch up to you guys.”
Marlee approached the students and announced that Marcus would be acting as their tour leader until she arrived at YAP. No one questioned it and she was thankful she didn’t need to provide additional detail about her delay.
After the class cleared out from the motel, Marlee walked over to Roxie’s room. The front desk clerk readily gave her Roxie’s room number when asked. Marlee pounded on the door repeatedly but there was no answer. She peeked in the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of movement. All she could see were clothes strewn across the floor and the edge of the bed with possibly a foot sticking off of the edge. More pounding on the door yielded the same results. Frustrated, Marlee stomped back to the motel office.
“Can I get you to open the door to Roxie’s room? I think she’s in there and isn’t answering. I pounded on the door but there was no sound. I think I saw her foot on the bed.” Marlee was not entirely sure it was a foot she glimpsed through the ill-fitting plastic drapes, but she needed to convince the clerk that Roxie could be sick and in need of help.
“Well…” the clerk hesitated. “That’s not something we usually do unless the police ask us. Or if a roommate gets locked out.”
Marlee was at her wit’s end. She did not know what else to do, so she just stared at the clerk without saying another word. From her past careers in dealing with people, she knew most Americans were quite uncomfortable with silence and would often acquiesce just to break the tension. This situation was no different.
“Okay, but if she raises heck about it I’ll need you to tell my boss you made me,” said the elderly woman.
“Who’s your boss?” Marlee was curious as to who would be able to control this capable senior citizen.
“My daughter,” she said with a grimace.
“If Roxie causes a problem I promise to take full responsibility,” Marlee assured the clerk. She had no intention of getting her into any sort of trouble.
The elderly clerk grabbed an old-fashioned jumbo key and the two proceeded to Roxie’s room. Marlee knocked again to see if there would be an answer. There was not, so Marlee motioned for the clerk to open the room door.
Sure enough, Roxie was lying in bed with the flowered bedspread pulled up around her shoulders. One foot extended through the covers and hung just off the edge of the bed. Clothes, shoes, and personal hygiene items were thrown about the room. Empty beer and liquor bottles littered the floor, table, dresser top, and bathroom vanity. Marlee walked toward the bed, careful not to step on the mish-mash of items.
“Roxie, wak
e up,” Marlee said with a gentle tone, not wanting to startle the woman who was in a deep alcohol-induced sleep. There was no response.
“Roxie! Get up!” Marlee yelled, yet there was still not a sound from the sleeping woman. The professor walked up next to the bed and shook Roxie’s shoulder, which was covered by the bedspread. “Get up, Roxie! I need to talk to you!”
Still no response.
Marlee looked at Roxie’s face up close. It had an odd color. A cold sweat started at the base of Marlee’s spine and worked its way downward. She touched Roxie’s cheek. It was ice cold.
“Oh my god! I think she’s dead!” Marlee shrieked.
The elderly clerk sprang into action. She grabbed the phone on the bedside table and dialed 911. As the old woman was relaying what little information they had about Roxie, Marlee checked to see if she was breathing or had a pulse. She had neither. Roxie’s lips were blue and her eyes were wide open and glazed over. Marlee shook her head at the clerk, indicating that the ambulance need not rush over.
Coffee, yogurt, and banana all roiled in Marlee’s stomach until she could not hold it down. She had the foresight not to puke in the bathroom, knowing this was possibly a crime scene and should not be contaminated. The professor ran out of the room and yakked up her breakfast a few feet from the front door. The clerk, not knowing what to do, began picking up Roxie’s towels to take to the laundry room.
“Don’t move anything. The cops will need to investigate this to see if it was an accident or a natural death. Or if she was killed. Let’s just wait outside.” Marlee and the clerk stood outside room, near Marlee’s puke pile, and waited until the police arrived moments later.
Two middle aged officers arrived in a squad car and Marlee and the clerk took turns apprising them of what they saw in Roxie’s room. One ran inside right away to determine that she was in fact dead. Once he was satisfied that was the case, he returned to the small group outside the room to ask questions.
“Did you see anyone enter her room?” asked the eldest of the two male officers.
“Last night I went to get a pop and ice and heard Roxie yelling at someone,” Marlee said, unsure if she should reveal her suspicion last night that Mean Dean Green was at the motel arguing with Roxie.
“Who was she yelling at? What did she say?”
“I couldn’t hear what she said, but she was definitely mad. Then I heard a car door slam and a guy drove away in an older car. A Buick, I think. I don’t know, I’m not very good with car makes and models. Roxie had her hand over her head in a fist, still shouting.”
“Did you get a good look at the guy that drove off?”
“No…” Marlee hesitated.
“What is it?” questioned the elder cop.
“I’m not sure that I believe it myself, but it really looked like the Dean of the College of Arts and Sciences at Midwestern State University in Elmwood. That’s where I teach and I’m leading a criminal justice class around the state touring various jails, prisons, and juvenile facilities. Roxie was in the class. Actually, I was going to kick her out of the class because she caused a huge commotion at the women’s prison yesterday…” Marlee knew she was rambling, but could not stop herself. Shock had set in and she was unable to stop chattering on. She’d be discussing her Christmas shopping list if someone did not stop her soon.
“Wait. Wait,” said the younger of the two officers. “What did the man who drove away look like? And what kind of car was he driving?”
Marlee took a deep breath in an attempt to clear her head and focus her thoughts. “The car was very large, four door, and silver. Sorry, I don’t know car makes and models. It looked like Ira Green because he was around seventy years old. He had gray hair, a gray mustache and beard. He was a big guy. Not really fat, but just big.”
“And this description fits Ira Green from your college?” the elder cop asked.
“Yes, it does. I never saw the driver standing up, but I could tell by looking at him in the car he was a big boned older guy. But I just want to say that I’m not at all sure it was Dean Green.” No matter what her feelings were for the dethroned dean, she would not try to get him into legal trouble. Especially when that legal trouble was murder. She was torn. If he had something to do with Roxie’s death, then he should be held accountable.
“There’s something else,” Marlee said. “Again, I don’t know if it was Dean Green, but I do know there was a problem between the dean and Roxie. The rumor mill has it that she filed a sexual harassment claim against him at MSU, which led to an investigation that revealed he had falsified information on his application. There were also other sexual harassment claims against him at other universities too. He was just fired and left town over the weekend according to the campus gossip. Nothing official came out from administration about Dean Green this weekend and I’ve been on the road all day and haven’t accessed my campus email.”
“So Roxie got the dean fired from his job? That sounds like a motive for murder,” said the younger officer.
The elder officer shot him a hard look. “No jumping to conclusions. We know the lady is dead but we don’t know that it’s a murder. It could have been an accident, a suicide, or natural causes. Until the coroner makes a ruling after the autopsy, we keep our mouths shut about murder. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.” The younger officer appeared appropriately chastised and looked down at his feet, letting the senior officer handle the questions.
“What can you tell us about the victim, Roxie Harper?”
“Not a whole lot. I guess she’s in her late thirties or early forties. She was a student at MSU, majoring in criminal justice. She’s been in one of my other classes, but never really talked so I didn’t get to know her very well. I was going to kick her out of this class though because she came unhinged at the women’s prison yesterday and started shouting at some of the women on the inmate panel. She was being very judgmental and rude and she even made fun of one inmate’s mental health condition.”
“Is that why you had the clerk open the door to her room?” the elder officer asked.
“Yes, I wanted to talk to her in person to let her know she couldn’t continue in the class. Last night I told her I was considering it and would let her know my decision this morning. When she didn’t show up at the departure time, I was worried and eventually talked the clerk into opening the door for me.” Marlee was not worried about getting into trouble with the police for asking the elderly clerk to allow her access to Roxie’s room. She was more concerned about the clerk getting into trouble with either the police or worse, her daughter.
“Do you know anything else about the victim?”
“Well, no. I can’t think of anything other than she was a work study student at the library on campus. I heard that’s where the sexual harassment by the dean took place. Other than that, nothing. Some of the students in this class might know her better than I do. You should probably talk to them. They’re at YAP right now on a tour with my assistant but will be finishing up in about half an hour.”
“Yes. We want to talk to all of them, and your assistant, to see what they know about the victim,” said the elder officer. Marlee provided the police with her requested background information so they would know how to contact her if they needed to question her further. Then she drove her vehicle over to the Youth Adjustment Program with the police car following her. The elder officer drove over to question the students while the younger officer remained behind to secure the crime scene. Detectives had been called and would be there soon to conduct an investigation.
What am I going to tell the students? Marlee thought as she drove to YAP. Even though it was only the second day of the class, a bond between most of the students had already been established. She was not sure that Roxie was included in this bond, but it would be hard on the students when they learned one of their class members died over night.
People are judged by the best and the worst things they did during their lives. Was she a g
ood person or a bad person? Depends on who you ask.
Chapter 8
“Dead?” several of the students said in unison when Marlee told them in the Youth Adjustment Program entryway of Roxie’s demise. The tour was over when she arrived and Marcus had kept everyone inside the building awaiting Marlee’s further instructions.
“Yes, I’m afraid so. At this point, we don’t know anything. The police are here and want to speak with each of you about Roxie,” Marlee said, gesturing to the officer who was now walking in the front door.
“He thinks one of us killed Roxie?” shrieked Violet Stone. At just eighteen years of age, she was the youngest student on the tour. A single tear ran down her cheek and her lip trembled.
“No, he just wants to know what you know about Roxie and if you saw or heard anything last night or this morning. Just tell the truth. None of you are in trouble. We’ll wait until everyone is questioned before we leave for our next tour, okay?” Marlee asked. “When you’re finished being questioned, you can wait in here or in your cars but don’t leave until everyone’s ready.”
Students nodded as the officer had them come outside one by one to talk with him. Within minutes, two additional officers arrived on the scene to help with interviews. Marcus was the first to be finished with his police interview and joined Marlee inside the YAP facility where she sat waiting.
“Wow, this is incredible. I can’t believe what happened.” Marcus’ eyes lit up in both fascination and shock.
“What did the officer ask you?” Marlee inquired. Marcus gave a rundown of the questions he was asked and they all seemed to be in line with what Marlee was asked earlier about Roxie’s background.
Murder to Go Page 6