Styled for Murder

by Nancy J. Cohen

  “I’m worried for you,” Dalton said as they got ready for bed. They’d spent hours playing with Ryder, feeding him and performing their myriad other evening duties.

  “I’ll be careful. I’m not going to stop what I’m doing. This proves we’re on the right track,” Marla said, laying out her clothes for the next day. “Thursday morning, I can go to the college campus and talk to any of Reed’s colleagues who are left there.”

  “I spoke to several of them,” her husband said, picking up his book and sitting on the bed. “Reed is highly respected and no one had a bad word to say against him.”

  Marla shrugged. “I’ll see what I can find out. There has to be someone who remembers what occurred between Reed and Jack’s son, Kit. I can approach it from a different angle. As Reed’s stepdaughter, I want to help prove his innocence.”

  She didn’t voice her fears aloud. Who knew what might surface once she found somebody willing to gossip?

  Chapter Thirteen

  The campus at Nova Southeastern University had expanded from the last time she’d been there. Now comprised of more than three hundred acres, it boasted concrete buildings with beige or sun-yellow façades, brick-paved walkways, decorative sculptures, and a variety of palm trees among other tropical plants.

  Fortunately, Marla had called ahead as to where to park or she’d be hopelessly lost. She followed signs to the designated lot, feeling secure that she hadn’t been followed. She’d taken a circuitous route to get there and hadn’t noticed a tail in her rearview mirror.

  She emerged from her car to enter a maze of tree-lined paths weaving between stately structures and manicured lawns. The smell of freshly cut grass mingled with a floral scent as she crossed an intersection near the library. Groups of kids charged past, intent on getting to their next class or meeting their friends at the student center.

  In the distance, the drone of a lawn mower competed with airplanes coming in for a landing at Fort Lauderdale-Hollywood International Airport.

  Nostalgia for her college days invaded her mind. She’d only spent two years at the university where she’d aimed to become a teacher. A tragedy had cut short her incipient career. However, if not for that horrible event, she’d never have realized her potential as a hairstylist. She was proud of her accomplishments as owner of a successful salon and day spa. Besides, now she used her teaching skills in continuing education classes for her staff.

  A balmy April breeze ruffled her hair as she located the College of Arts and Sciences. Her palms sweated as she entered the hallowed halls and headed to the main office. Perhaps she should have made an appointment. What had caused her to believe one of the professors would have time for her?

  Nonetheless, this was her best chance to discover what had happened between Reed and Kit. If Reed had somehow caused Kit to drop out of school, then Jack might have held a grudge against Reed ever since.

  But that notion didn’t equate. Then Jack would have gone after Reed instead of the other way around. Reed was the one under suspicion of murder. There had to be something else she was missing.

  “Hi, my name is Marla Vail,” she told the administrative aide inside the office. “I’m looking to speak to faculty who might have known my stepfather when he taught here.”

  The middle-aged woman, whose golden blond hair swirled above her head like threads spun by Rumpelstiltskin, regarded her with curiosity. “What was his name, dear?”

  “We call him Reed, but he was known as Professor Renfield Westmore.”

  “May I ask your purpose in making this request?” said the woman, whose desk plate identified her name as Bonnie.

  Marla had conceived an excuse during the drive there. “Our family is planning a surprise party for Reed and my mother to celebrate their one-year anniversary. It’s a second marriage for both of them,” she explained with a gushy grin. “At that age, it’s rare to find love again, and our family is so happy they’ve found each other. We want to make the event special, but Reed is reticent to talk about himself. We’d like to invite some of his former friends in his honor.”

  Bonnie arched her penciled brows. “Do you know what years he taught here? I’m a new transfer from the engineering college, so his name isn’t familiar to me.”

  Marla bit her lower lip. How long ago had Reed retired? “He’s seventy-two. If he retired at sixty-five, that would be seven years ago.” Reed had already left his position when Ma met him. She’d introduced him to the family at their New Year’s Day party, right after Val Weston had died in her day spa and just before Tally and her husband went missing. That had been a memorable holiday season and not in a good way.

  A few minutes passed while Bonnie did the research. “I see him in our records, but Dean Palmer wasn’t in office then. A couple of Professor Westmore’s colleagues have since retired, so you can’t talk to them right now. Wait, Stanford was present during that time. He teaches British lit. Or you could try Donnelly, our drama and poetry instructor.”

  “What was Reed’s specialty?” Marla asked out of curiosity. If he’d told her, she had forgotten.

  “Professor Westmore specialized in Irish lit, but he also taught classes in world literature as well as the history and structure of the English language.”

  Marla grimaced inwardly as visions of early grammar classes came to mind. “Would either of those two instructors you’d mentioned be willing to talk to me?”

  “I’ll text them to see if either one is available.”

  While Bonnie contacted the men, Marla considered making her excuse into reality. It might be a nice thing to do for her mother and stepfather, especially with all the grief they’d been having. She’d suggest it to Reed’s sons and see if they wanted to weigh in. They’d have plenty of time until September to plan an anniversary party.

  Bonnie glanced up and beamed at Marla. “Professor Donnelly can see you. He’s in between classes and is working in his office. Go down the hall, take a right, and look for his name on a door along the corridor. But first, please sign in here so I can give you a visitor badge. You’re not allowed in the hallways without one.”

  Marla complied, thanked the administrative assistant, and hurried off, aware of the clock ticking. She’d have to leave soon for the salon.

  The professor ushered her into his office with a kindly smile. He had disheveled wheat hair streaked with gray, an off-kilter nose and a bristly jaw.

  His eyes twinkled as he bid her to take a seat. “Bonnie says you’re thinking of holding a surprise party for Reed. I didn’t even know he’d remarried. His wife is your mom?”

  “Yes, that’s correct. It’ll be a year this September since their wedding.”

  He grinned, deepening the crease lines around his eyes. “I’m glad for the old sod. We’d lost touch in the last year or so. I’d love to come to your event and catch up.”

  Marla poised her cell phone to take notes and wrote down the contact info he gave her. “Can you suggest anyone else we should invite? Or not?” she said with a small laugh.

  Donnelly mentioned a few names that Marla jotted down.

  “I do hope their bathroom renovations are finished by then if we hold the event at their house,” she mentioned. “Have you ever done any remodeling? It’s such a nightmare.”

  “I know.” The professor chuckled. “We had a mess when we did our kitchen. My wife couldn’t wait until it was finished.”

  “I can’t even imagine the upheaval. You were lucky to get a reliable company.”

  “Yes, they were good, but we were careful about who we chose.”

  Marla leaned forward and lowered her voice. “It came as a shock to my stepdad when the job foreman for their renovation company turned out to be the father of that kid who’d caused Reed problems back in the day.”

  Donnelly’s gaze shuttered. “I have no idea what you mean. Professor Westmore was an outstanding instructor. He weaved myth and legends into his lectures in a way that made kids eager to do their assignments. That man had true
talent as a teacher. I thought he’d hire out as a private tutor once he retired, but I guess I was wrong.”

  “He seems to have given up that life entirely,” she said with a sad nod.

  The educator fell into silence. He rolled a pen back and forth while Marla’s gaze roamed from his polished wood desk to the piles of papers stacked everywhere to the souvenir shot glasses displayed on a bookshelf. A collection of framed certificates and commendations decorated the walls.

  She inhaled a faint musty odor, no doubt from those old books on his shelves. An unexpected wave of nostalgia hit her once again. Majoring in education may have been the wrong choice for her, but she’d enjoyed campus life.

  “You have to be so careful nowadays,” Donnelly mused, startling her. “One careless gesture and disciplinary action ensues. It’s almost not worth the effort. Throw in interdepartmental politics and things can get chaotic.”

  Was he speaking about sexual harassment or political correctness? Either one would apply to his statement. “Every workplace has the same concerns,” she said in response. “It must be difficult to constantly have to be on guard against saying something or making a friendly overture that can be wrongly construed.”

  “You’re right. We can’t be too cautious in this climate, can we?” The professor let go of his pen and straightened his spine. “Anyway, I’ll look forward to your invite.”

  Marla got the hint and rose. Why had he brought up this topic? It struck her as odd coming out of the blue, unless it related to Reed. Was Donnelly trying to clue her in with his oblique remark?

  Outside in the corridor, she peered up and down the hallway at the array of closed doors. The exit sign had an arrow to the left. A grizzled man in a tan uniform was mopping the floor at the opposite end.

  Should she see if he knew anything? It would be a long shot, but with his white beard, he looked old enough to have been employed here back in the day. Maybe he’d heard mention of Reed’s name. Janitorial staff often overheard gossip since people rarely paid them any attention.

  “Hello there,” she said, aware of the noise her pumps made tapping on the tile floor. She stayed away from the wet section he’d just finished, wrinkling her nose at the vinegary smell from his cleaning solution.

  The man gave her an appraising glance. “Can I help you, miss?” he said in a New York accent that reminded Marla of her friend Arnie Hartman, owner of Bagel Busters two doors down from her salon.

  “I was wondering if you were around when my stepdad taught at the college. Do you remember Professor Westmore? We’re holding a surprise anniversary party for him and my mom, and I’d like to invite some of his old friends. I’ve spoken to a couple of people here about his connections, but you might have more insights to share.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed to slits. “I don’t discuss what I hear in these halls.”

  She thought of offering him money in exchange for information but had a feeling that would backfire. “All right, thanks. Sorry to have bothered you. Have a good day.”

  Her footsteps echoed as she proceeded toward the exit. A uniformed security guard stood by the door, reading announcements written with a dry erase marker on an easel board. He wore accessories similar to what Dalton had put on during his patrol days. This guy appeared to be in his fifties or so, judging from his lined face and balding head. A retired police officer or former military?

  Schools were no longer the secure havens of knowledge they’d once been. Now campuses had video surveillance, armed guards and hidden security devices. It was a sad world for kids who had to do shooter drills in class and watch for predators on their way to school. Marla worried about Ryder growing up in this environment.

  “Excuse me, I need some information,” she said, approaching the guard.

  “Sure, lady. Where do you need to go?”

  “Oh, I’m not lost. I’m here on a research mission. Have you been working at the university for long?” she asked, offering him a sweet smile.

  He raked her over, his gaze impassive. “I’ve been on the security team for years, ma’am.”

  “I’m wondering if you’d known my stepdad, Professor Renfield Westmore, when he worked here. Reed retired about seven years ago.” She’d have to verify the date with Ma for future reference. “He and my mom got married in September. I’d like to invite some of his old friends to an anniversary party.”

  The security guard’s expression softened. His name badge read Sam Friar. “Sure, I knew the man. He always greeted me with a kind word. How’s he doing?”

  “He’s great, but an incident from his past has surfaced that’s upset him.”

  The guard scrunched his brows. “There ain’t no truth in those tales.” He grabbed her elbow and steered her to a corner away from the entrance. The foyer was quiet, but students would pour out of the classrooms once the period ended. “What are you really doing here? Some detective came by to talk to people in the office about him.”

  Bonnie hadn’t mentioned this. How recent was her transfer? And was that why Donnelly had been reluctant to talk openly to her?

  “My mother is anxious to learn the truth about what happened. I understand Kit Laredo had been a student of Reed’s... Professor Westmore. Something happened between them and the boy dropped out of college. He blamed my stepfather.”

  Sam’s lip curled. “It wasn’t his fault. The kid cheated on an exam.”

  “Oh, really? Wouldn’t Kit have gone before a disciplinary committee?”

  “Yes, and they suspended him, but then he lost his scholarship. That made him drop out. The professor’s evidence was only the catalyst.”

  “It’s sad that Kit felt he had to cheat to pass a test. Didn’t his parents encourage him to study?” she asked, hoping to get a hint about his home life.

  The security officer peered at her like she had a few screws loose in the attic. “Are you one of those folks who don’t allow a kid to take responsibility for his own actions?”

  “Well, no, I’m just wondering—”

  “I don’t care about his freaking upbringing. I could see where the kid got his nasty manner, though. His father burst in here one day ranting against Professor Westmore.”

  Now we’re getting somewhere. “An angry parent can be difficult,” she remarked.

  “I’ll say.” Sam glanced over his shoulder and then jabbed a finger at her. “That might have been the end of it, but then the kid retaliated.”

  “How so?” Marla asked in a mild tone. She shifted her feet, anxious to hear the whole story.

  Sam’s eyes glittered. “I was here the day it happened. A female student requested help with an assignment. The professor was always kind that way, tutoring kids past hours to work with them. Kit Laredo took advantage of his generosity.”

  “In what way?” Marla’s senses heightened. Maybe now she’d find the answers she sought.

  “The girl was alone in his office with him and claimed he’d made an inappropriate advance toward her. She had recorded part of their conversation and must have led him into it. He’d been talking about literature, but the snatch of dialogue had obvious innuendos. I got called in when she raised a stink, and later I assisted in the internal investigation.”

  Marla’s heart twisted. Poor Reed. This would have been an affront to his dignity and honor. “Was there any truth to the girl’s accusations?” she forced herself to ask.

  “Heck, no. It smelled of a setup from the get-go. Westmore denied the allegations and was deeply distressed by the incident. You could tell it hurt him.”

  No wonder he’s so devastated by this murder case. It has to be déjà vu for him in terms of being implicated in a crime he didn’t commit. But why doesn’t he tell Ma about it? Is he too embarrassed? Or is he afraid she’ll begin to doubt him?

  Too late for the latter. Doubts had already taken root.

  “Did the girl confess that she’d lied?” Marla wanted to know. “And how was Kit Laredo involved?”

  “Kit put her up to
it. Professor Westmore was exonerated due to the witness’s lack of credibility, and the matter was expunged from his record. He was careful afterwards not to be alone with any of his female students, and he cancelled his private tutoring. He’d lost his mojo, even though the girl finally admitted Kit had paid her to make a scene.”

  “Could it have been Kit’s father who’d instigated things? He must have been disappointed when his son lost the scholarship.”

  Sam’s gaze darkened. “Nah, it fits the kid’s M.O. He was a rotten egg from the start.”

  Like father, like son, she thought, although Kit had done a decent burial for his dad. Maybe he’d turned his life around once he moved away.

  Or not. Perhaps he’d shifted blame for his problems to Jack and finally got his revenge.

  “I appreciate the info,” she told the guard. “It’ll put my mom’s heart at ease to learn the truth.”

  “Give the professor my regards, will you? Tell him we miss his jokes. And if you really do plan a party, I’d love to be invited.”

  Marla walked away shaking her head. Reed had told jokes? He always seemed so staid and distinguished. Yet her mother had mentioned that he made her laugh, and he did lighten up at family events.

  Anyway, why would this incident disturb him now? The student who’d made the accusation against him had confessed it was a lie.

  She recalled Ma’s words that Reed had been startled upon meeting Jack on the job. What if Jack, upon realizing Reed’s identity, had threatened to tell his new wife about his disreputable past? All of Reed’s shame might have come back to haunt him.

  Jack might even have demanded money to keep silent. That could also be why Reed didn’t cancel his contract once he learned Jack worked for the design center. Jack might have insisted the project go forward with Reed making extra payments to him on the side.

  Would this have given Reed a strong enough motive for murder? Perhaps not in her view, but it could be the reasoning behind Detective Wanner’s suspicions.