After touring the prison camp at Yankton and observing the well-kept buildings and nicely tended greens, several students noted that it was nicer than their home campus at Midwestern State University. Marlee was proud of MSU and its appearance, but nothing could compare with the level of care put into the prison camp. A captive population with an incentive to work had that effect.
Gathering near the parked cars on a side street, Marlee had a quick meeting with the class. “Our next stop is Sioux Falls. We’re touring The Right Trail tonight. It’s an all-boys residential facility in a rural area. We’re also eating supper there and then it’s tradition that the class plays softball with the boys. I can tell you that in my two previous years of teaching this class, The Right Trail boys have won both times. It’s my understanding that they won most, if not all of the time when my predecessor led this class.”
“I knew we were playing a softball game with them, so I brought my baseball shoes and my glove,” Becca Trautman said with a smile.
“We’re gonna kick their asses,” Bart said, oblivious to the fact that the focus was on the sportsmanship and camaraderie rather than winning against a group of kids placed in a group home for juvenile delinquents.
“Keep in mind that you guys are role models. They’re really impressed that college kids want to come see where they live and then play softball with them. I’m not telling you to go easy on them during the game. What I am saying is make sure you demonstrate good sportsmanship,” Marlee said. A few of the students nodded, while others plotted the demise of The Right Trail’s softball team.
Marcus drove Marlee’s car again while she made phone calls. More than anything she wanted to call Vince and rip him a new one. How dare he cheat on her with Suzanne! She knew better than to place that call while Marcus or any of the students were present. What she was about to say to Vince wouldn’t be good for her professional image.
Instead of confronting her boyfriend via telephone, she called Detective Ramos, the lead investigator handling Roxie Harper’s case. After identifying herself, Marlee launched in to her reason for the call. No use wasting time on pleasantries.
“So what did Roxie Harper’s autopsy reveal?” Marlee asked. She had previously informed the detective of her past work history in quasi-law-enforcement positions and also shamelessly dropped the names of her friends in the Elmwood Police Department and the FBI office. She hoped this would entitle her to unlimited information from the detective handling Roxie’s death investigation.
“Just as I thought. It’s poisoning, but the coroner thinks it’s murder and I agree. He ruled it suspicious because he can’t confirm it as a murder. He also can’t rule it a suicide or an accident.” Detective Ramos reported.
“So why does he think a murder was committed, even if the evidence isn’t there to prove it?” Marlee asked.
“After talking it over, we agreed that she was probably poisoned by someone else. There was some bruising around her mouth and neck, which is consistent with being forced to ingest something. Also, it looked there had been a struggle in Roxie’s room. From what the staff at the library told me, Roxie was a neat freak, so it doesn’t make sense that her room was such a mess. I’m still considering that she could’ve taken her own life, but at this point, it doesn’t seem probable. We didn’t find a note in her motel room or in her car. Roxie was a shy, introverted person, but there’s nothing to suggest she was depressed, despondent, or wanting to kill herself.”
“What about Dean Green? Have you talked to him?” Marlee asked.
“No. He’s a slippery bastard. We keep calling his cell and leaving messages but he won’t return our calls. We know he’s on the road, but aren’t sure where. Yesterday we put out an APB on him, hoping law enforcement somewhere will hold him for us if they stop him for speeding or some other violation,” Ramos said.
“Do you think he poisoned Roxie?” Marlee was torn. Dean Green was evil and had caused her a great deal of trouble since starting at MSU. On the other hand, she never had the sense that he was a murderer. Of course, there were a lot of people walking around, unconvicted of murder, just because no one suspected or caught them.
“It’s something we definitely want to check out. As far as we can tell, Ira Green was the last person to see Roxie alive and they had some kind of verbal fight. There’s also her claim that he sexually harassed her on campus and then he was fired. Green has a motive for killing her, that’s for sure.” Detective Ramos stated. Then there was an uncomfortable pause.
“What is it?” Marlee asked. “I feel like you wanted to say something else.”
“What do you know about Roxie’s past? She’s 39 and in her third year at MSU. What did she do before that? Is she from South Dakota? Was she married? What prompted her to go to MSU and major in criminal justice?”
“Hmmm… I can’t answer any of those questions. I’ll talk to the students in this class some more and see if I can find out anything. If there’s anything to report, I’ll let you know.”
After signing off, Marlee paused for a moment to reflect on her conversation with the detective. The she turned to Marcus and said, “If Roxie was so shy and introverted, then why did she go off on the inmates at the women’s prison on Monday? That seems very uncharacteristic of her.”
Marcus shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. It’s really weird.”
Roles can change in an instant. Sometimes it’s hard to tell who’s the helper and who’s the helpee.
Chapter 10
The afternoon was warm and some of the students changed into athletic gear for the big softball match against the boys at The Right Trail. This was the one tour the whole week in which students could wear shorts. The prisons and many of the group homes had strict dress codes which prohibited shorts, tank tops, and other revealing clothes being worn by both the females and the males. Young, nubile students in correctional facilities were distracting enough without adding skimpy clothing into the mix.
Since the previous clothing incidents with Bart wearing the t-shirt depicting a man having sex with a horse and Becca having a metal chain somehow incorporated into her underwear, Marlee had taken to giving each student the once-over each morning before they departed for their tours. She could not prevent them from wearing metal underwear, but she could intervene if she observed another nasty t-shirt design.
That afternoon she would have missed Becca’s outfit because she got in their car before Marlee came to the parking lot. The class was preparing to depart for The Right Trail. Marcus was the one to tip her off to the problem. “Um… have you seen Becca this afternoon?”
“Not since we checked in. About an hour ago. Why?”
“You might want to take a look at what she’s wearing before we leave,” he advised.
Marlee walked over the car which held the three USD students. Becca was in the backseat. Before Marlee was even up close to the car window, she could already see the problem. Becca was wearing a V-neck tank top and no bra.
“Becca, you can’t wear that to a juvenile facility. It’s too revealing and totally inappropriate.”
“Everybody’s wearing shorts!” Becca was taken aback that she was being singled out for her clothing choices.
“Your top is too revealing. You need to go change quickly before we leave,” Marlee said with a firm but patient voice.
Becca sighed heavily and dragged herself out of the back seat of the car as if it were the hardest task she ever had to complete. When she was standing, Marlee saw she was wearing perhaps the shortest red shorts Marlee had ever seen. Becca’s lower butt cheeks were exposed as she was standing, so who knew how far they would ride up during the softball game.
“You need to change out of those shorts too. They’re way too short.”
“But these are the only shorts I have with me!” Becca exclaimed.
“Then put the jeans on that you were wearing earlier today,” Marlee said.
“But I’ll be so hot during the game.”
“Not my problem. Do you think wearing shorty-shorts to a group home for delinquent boys is a good idea?”
Becca ignored the question but as she stomped toward her motel room she said, “This is so embarrassing.”
“Well, we agree on one thing,” Marlee said with an eye roll as she walked back to her vehicle to wait for Becca. She took her time and it was nearly ten minutes past the group’s scheduled departure time before Becca returned to the parking lot wearing jean shorts and a short-sleeved shirt with a rounded neckline. Guess she had some other shorts after all, Marlee thought to herself as she got into her car.
“Thanks for letting me know about Becca’s clothing situation, Marcus. Taking her out to The Right Trail dressed like she was could get the class banned from touring next year. Geez, what was she thinking?”
Marcus just shrugged and smiled as he drove out of the parking lot. Marlee needed to make more phone calls and thought the half hour drive to the juvenile group home would be an ideal time to do so. She wasn’t going to call Vince until she was alone in her room that night. In fact, she might not call him at all. She might just wait until she returned to Elmwood and then let him have it. Maybe this time I’ll hit him with my car on purpose, she thought with a little smile.
Marlee had a quick chat with Hank in which she relayed that all of the students seemed to be handling Roxie’s death appropriately and that she did not have any worries about them suffering from post-traumatic shock.
“Well, that’s great to hear. President Ross has been calling me a few times a day for updates, so he’ll be happy to hear about this. Do you know anything about the police investigation?” Hank Barnaby asked, chomping on something crunchy as he spoke.
“Detective Ramos had a lot of questions about Roxie’s past and I had no information for him. I imagine he will be talking to some people on campus soon if he hasn’t already. He wanted to know what she did before she started classes at MSU, where she lived, and stuff like that.”
“Has he talked with Ira Green yet?” Hank asked. He had already dropped the title of dean from Ira Green’s name, as would other faculty as time marched on.
“They’re trying to get in touch with him but he won’t return their calls. He’s on the road, Ramos thinks, and they don’t know where,” Marlee said. “Any ideas on where he might be going? I don’t even know where he considers his home.”
“He was in Lancaster, Pennsylvania for quite a few years when he taught and then later was the president of Keystone University, but I don’t think he’s from that part of the country originally. I’ll look through some records I have here in the office and see if we can figure out where he might be headed. If I find anything I’ll let you know.” With that, Hank hung up the phone, leaving Marlee wondering where exactly ex-Dean Green might be going.
The students were in a collectively foul mood by the time everyone arrived at The Right Trail. They were tired, hungry, and ready for the class to end. Plus, a couple of them resented that they would have to play softball with the boys at the facility.
Gene Graft greeted the class as they approached the main building. He was a dark haired white man in his mid-forties, dressed in western jeans, cowboy boots, and a polo shirt. Gene had a wide smile and put the class at ease almost immediately. After talking briefly about the program and the goals it hoped to accomplish with the boys living there, he introduced them to Tyrone, a young white man who would lead the class around the facility and answer their questions.
Tyrone was a gregarious teen and began chatting up everyone as soon as he started the tour. “I’m almost finished with the program. Just one more level and then I get to go home,” he replied in response to Violet’s question about how much longer he would be at The Right Trail. “I came here two years ago and I was a mess. I didn’t care about anybody or anything. My brothers always went to school and didn’t give our parents any problems. I was the wild child; getting kicked out of school, stealing, vandalizing buildings, taking off with cars. Just didn’t care what happened. Since I’ve been here I’ve learned about consequences and having empathy for others. If I finish up this last level over the summer then I can probably get back into school this fall in Custer. That’s where I’m from.”
Tyrone’s story had captured the students’ attention and they crowed around him as they walked toward the far edge of the facility where four log cabins stood in a horse shoe shape. “This is where we live,” he said. “I’ll show you just one of the cabins. The one where I live. They’re all about the same so we don’t need to go through all of them.”
The class followed Tyrone through the cabin he and several other boys called home. Upstairs, the sleeping quarters consisted of large, open rooms with several single beds lined up in a row. This was the bedroom for older boys who were nearing release from the program. There was also a large bathroom, which housed four individual shower stalls as well as the other accoutrements of most restrooms.
Downstairs held a large living room, complete with a wide screen television, DVD player, a stack of movies, and multiple video games and controllers. Teen boys were slouched on chairs, couches, and on the floor, engrossed in a movie. “If you violate the rules, the first things taken away are your TV and gaming privileges. That’s the worst, especially in the winter when there’s nothing to do.” Tyrone’s smile was gone now, suggesting he had undergone the multimedia restriction himself on at least one occasion.
A small table and four chairs were clustered into a kitchenette area. “We don’t eat here. We go over to the main building for all our meals. This is just where we make popcorn and snacks and stuff,” Tyrone advised, motioning to the area with a flourish of his arm. “Now I’ll take you to the best part of the whole program,” he said with a grin. They walked across uneven ground to a fenced in barn yard, complete with horses. Tyrone opened the gate and ushered the class through before walking up to a horse tied to the fence and petting her. “This is Mable. She’s my favorite,” he said. “We feed and clean up after the horses and we get to ride them too. And we even have a horse drawn wagon in parades around Sioux Falls every year.” Half of the students nodded, familiar with the horses and wagon from the program.
“We also do equine therapy. Do any of you know what that is?”
The students looked at each other and shook their heads.
“It’s using horses in therapy with humans. We’re taught to be kind and gentle with the horses, just like we need to be with other people. It gave me a feeling of control. It’s hard to explain, but it works. I can swear to it,” Tyrone said with an emphatic nod of his head.
The students asked a few questions about the horses and their care before Tyrone took the students back to the main building. He showed them the classrooms, which looked like classrooms in any other high school. Then he concluded with the kitchen and dining room.
“We do all the clean up after the meals. Each cabin takes a turn washing the dishes and putting them away, stacking the tables and chairs in the corner, and mopping the floor after supper. It’s a lot of work, but it goes fast since there are so many of us in each cabin.”
Gene rejoined the group and invited them to sit in the dining room. Ten tables, which could each comfortably accommodate eight people, were set up with accompanying chairs. He told them they could sit anywhere and the whole class started gravitating toward one table. “Hey, why don’t you guys break out to some of the other tables and chat with the boys. We don’t all need to sit together,” Marlee suggested. A few of the students looked uncomfortable, but did as advised. After they were all seated, platters of food were brought to the table and they were served family style, helping themselves to the barbeque chicken, scalloped potatoes, vegetables, and fresh baked rolls.
“We have an excellent cook. His name is Robert and he makes all his own bread and desserts,” said a boy of about twelve with closely cropped red hair. “We get to tell him what we like the best and then he cooks it for us. But he makes us eat vegetables, too.” Marlee
smiled as the young boy made a face regarding vegetables.
Following the meal, Gene stood and announced that the Criminal Justice To Go class would be playing a game of softball with them. This resulted in a round of cheers and excited chatter. “But first, Dr. McCabe wants to say something,” he said motioning toward Marlee.
“Thank you all for letting our class come here and learn more about your program. We appreciate your hospitality and to show just how much, students from my class will do the kitchen clean up tonight!” Marlee exclaimed.
Even louder cheers and chatter rose from the cabin who was assigned to clean up that night. Her own students looked at her with feigned upset and groans. They were no longer in grumpy moods and were merely playing along with the chores their professor had assigned to them.
Marlee helped with the clean up too, although she made herself scarce from the kitchen. She assisted in folding the tables and moving the chairs and then helped with mopping. After nearly an hour of clean up, the students proceeded to a large open area where the softball game would be held. Gene gained everyone’s attention and announced how the game would be played.
“Everyone gets to bat, but no one can bat again until everyone else has had a turn.” A flip of the coin put The Right Trail boys first at bat and they lined up. There were over fifty boys who were going to play ball that night, as opposed to the college class, which consisted of only eleven people; nine students, Marcus, and Marlee. They moved to the outfield and divided up the positions each would play. Dom and Jasper gave each other knowing looks, suggesting that winning the game would be like shooting fish in a barrel.
The game went a bit differently than any of the students anticipated. The boys in the program were used to playing softball and had perfected their game, while the college students were not all athletic or in shape. The students, most of whom were not used to regular physical exercise anymore, huffed and puffed as they ran around the bases. The game ended in a trouncing for the college students with a score of 17-4. Marlee was proud of her students, not for their playing ability, but for their good sportsmanship. After they lost the game, they lined up and said “good game” to the boys as they walked by and slapped their hands. Gene took the ball used in the game and placed it on a small brass pedestal, proclaiming The Right Trail boys to be the winner, yet again, of the softball challenge between them and the class from Midwestern State University.
Murder to Go Page 10