Our server appeared, and Miss Dickce placed her order without ever having opened the menu. She asked for the Tuesday lunch special, and I said that would be fine with me, although I had no idea what it was. It turned out to be a grilled chicken breast with melted Parmesan, steamed broccoli, mashed potatoes, and freshly baked rolls. I ordered sweet tea to go with my meal, and Miss Dickce did the same.
“Here they come,” Miss Dickce said in an undertone. She scooted down in the booth until she was next to the wall, and I did the same.
The three women were talking about something one of them had spotted in one of the boutique shops on the square. Turned out to be a handbag that Melba said was ridiculously expensive. They continued to discuss whether Melba should buy it as they seated themselves in the booth.
I recognized Viccy Kemp’s voice, so it was easy to identify the voice that belonged to Jeanette Larson. I could hear them pretty well. They were making no attempt to lower their voices. They continued to chat about such things until the server came to take their orders, and after the server departed, Melba took charge of the conversation and steered it in the direction of the murders.
“The mood on campus seems pretty dark to me right now,” Melba said. “Do y’all feel it, too? It bothers me to think that there’s a murderer running around campus.”
“I certainly do,” Viccy Kemp said. “Everyone in the history department is jumpy. I’m afraid to be in the office by myself.” She gave a shaky laugh. “I told my boss that I wouldn’t stay in there on my own until they catch whoever killed poor Dr. Warriner.”
“What did he say to that?” Jeanette Larson asked. “The English department is just about as bad, since it was our Dr. Warriner’s husband. Nobody really seems to know what to say to her.”
“What do you say to a woman whose husband was killed?” Viccy asked. “Anyway, my boss told me he understood, and he’s instructed everyone in the office to do things in pairs. Thank goodness there are five of us, so someone’s always around when I need to visit the ladies’ room or go to the supply closet down the hall.”
“What about your department?” Melba asked.
Jeanette replied, “It’s not quite that bad for us, though a couple of people have been saying that the killer might come after our Dr. Warriner next.”
“Why would anyone want to kill her?” Melba asked. “She seems like such a nice woman.”
“She is,” Jeanette replied. “The person who first said that to me seems to think some deranged student has a vendetta against the Warriners.”
“Our Dr. Warriner was pretty tough on students,” Viccy said. “He had high standards for them and wouldn’t put up with lazy students. I know of three at least who screamed at him because they wanted him to change their grades.”
“Did he do it?” Melba asked.
Viccy snorted with laughter. “He sure didn’t. I overheard him talking to one of them, and he told the girl he didn’t care who her daddy was, if she didn’t do the work required she deserved the grade she got.”
“Good for him,” Jeanette said. “Sounds like a student of ours. Was it Tiffany Jo Robertson, by any chance?”
“No,” Viccy said, “not her, but I know who you’re talking about. Just because her father’s a big-name doctor she thinks everyone should kowtow to her. She had trouble with one of the other professors over grades. She’s lazy and not very bright.”
“Do you think this Tiffany girl would attack someone?” Melba asked.
Jeanette snorted. “And break one of her expensive fake fingernails? Not on your life. I swear that girl looks like she’s made up to play a streetwalker in a low-budget movie. If her mama only knew how she goes around on campus, that girl would get the spanking she deserves and a good scrubbing with lye soap.”
As amusing as this was, it wasn’t bringing forth any useful information. Miss Dickce and I exchanged glances of exasperation. Come on, Melba, I thought. Get them back on task.
“Somehow, I don’t think a student is responsible,” Melba said slowly. “And remember, there was a student who was murdered before Dr. Warriner.”
“That’s right.” Jeanette sniffed. “Dixie Belle Compton. Talk about a painted woman.”
I hadn’t thought Ms. Compton looked like a painted woman, but obviously Jeanette had different standards.
“She wasn’t that bad,” Viccy replied in tones of protest. “I saw her a couple of times in our office. She wore a little too much foundation, but I figured she was probably covering up some kind of skin condition.”
Miss Dickce and I looked up to see our server at the table with our food. While the server was setting our plates and our drinks in front of us, chatting all the while, I missed out on what was going on in the next booth. By the time the server departed, after having to be reassured twice that we didn’t need anything else at the moment, Miss Dickce and I had lost nearly two minutes’ worth of conversation.
“. . . no idea why anyone would want to kill her,” Jeanette said, “unless she broke up a marriage or two.”
“Well, she did do that.” Melba commenced to tell them a story similar to the one that Miss Dickce had shared with me about her friend. Miss Dickce grimaced as she listened to Melba.
“That’s terrible,” Viccy said. “Not a nice woman, but I still don’t think she deserved to be killed.” She paused. “But I wonder if she was working on Dr. Warriner, trying to break him up with Mrs. Warriner.”
Someone gasped, and I wasn’t sure whether it was Melba or Jeanette.
“Lord have mercy,” Melba said. “Are you serious?”
“Yes,” Viccy snapped. “Otherwise why would I say it? Seriously, I saw this woman coming out of his office a few times before the semester started, and at that point I didn’t know who she was. Then when she registered for his class, I found out.”
“Maybe she was just talking to him about the class,” Melba said. “She was an older student. Maybe she needed some reassurance.”
“She was getting more than reassurance,” Viccy said. “Judging by the sounds I heard coming from his office one afternoon.”
TWENTY-SIX
Miss Dickce’s horrified expression no doubt mirrored my own. If Viccy Kemp was right, then Carey Warriner had been cheating on his wife with Dixie Belle Compton.
“Are you serious?” Melba said in a slightly scoffing tone. “Surely the professor would have known better than to do something like that right there in his office where anyone could overhear what was going on.”
Viccy sounded huffy when she replied. “You don’t work in a department with professors and students, honey. Let me tell you, this isn’t the first time I’ve heard something like that going on.”
“It happens in my department, too,” Jeanette said. “Especially with older male professors and their female students.” Her disgust was palpable in her voice.
“How did you happen to overhear these trysts, I guess you’d call them?” Melba asked.
“Our supply closet is a couple of doors down from his office, that’s how,” Viccy said.
“You must visit that closet pretty often,” Melba said.
“Someone is always running out of something and going in there and helping themselves,” Viccy said. “Even though they’re supposed to come to the office first, so I have to check on things every other day to see what I need to order.”
“Isn’t it locked?” Jeanette said. “Ours is, and I’m the one with the key.”
“Our department head has a key, and so do a couple other senior professors,” Viccy said, obviously annoyed by this. “I’ve complained I don’t know how many times, but they don’t pay any attention. Then the department head gripes at me about the supply budget.”
“That’s not really fair,” Jeanette said. “I’m glad our situation is different.”
I had to suppress a groan. I’d already heard enough abo
ut supply closets to do me for the next ten years.
Melba took charge again. “Did the professor know you’d overheard any of this? Did you say anything to him about it?”
“Well, not in so many words,” Viccy said, drawing her answer out. “I made a reference or two to strange noises I’d heard in the hall, but he just blew me off. He did kind of avoid me as much as possible the last couple weeks, though.”
“Was he acting strange at all?” Melba said. “Men who are cheating on their wives usually do. They all give themselves away eventually.”
“Actually, yes, now that you mention it,” Viccy said. “The couple of weeks or so before he was killed, he seemed different somehow. I didn’t mention this to anyone except that sheriff’s deputy who interviewed me, but he was going around kind of tight-lipped and closed off, if you know what I mean. Not as friendly as he used to be.”
“Did that start before you heard him having it off with this woman in his office?” Melba asked.
Viccy dropped her voice when she replied, and Miss Dickce leaned forward over the table as we both strained to hear.
“Come to think of it, yes it did,” Viccy said. “About the only person I saw him talking to recently was Dr. Bellamy. He’s such a nice man and so good-looking.” She sounded wistful. “Not married, either. I’ve tried flirting with him, but he doesn’t seem to get it.”
“Maybe he’s gay,” Jeanette suggested.
“He’s not,” Viccy said.
“How do you know?” Melba asked. “Did he tell you?”
“Do you think I would’ve tried flirting with him if he told me he was gay?” Viccy asked, sounding irritable.
I nodded. Stewart would have said something to me if Dan Bellamy were gay. Miss Dickce understood my gesture.
“Then he’s just not interested in you,” Melba said. “Maybe he doesn’t think workplace flirtations are proper.”
“I suppose so,” Viccy said. “You’re probably right.”
“So Dr. Warriner had been talking to Dr. Bellamy lately,” Melba said. “A lot? Or just now and then?”
“A lot, from what I could see,” Viccy said. “I saw them leaving the building together several times, and they seemed to be involved in pretty intense conversations. Dr. Warriner looked upset about something, and Dr. Bellamy seemed to be trying to calm him down. I don’t know what was going on.”
Jeanette said, “Maybe this Dr. Bellamy was trying to talk him into stopping his affair with that woman.”
“That’s possible,” Viccy said. “It might have worked, too, because I didn’t see her for almost a week before classes started. Before that it was like almost every day, usually in the afternoon.”
“The one I feel sorry for is Warriner’s wife,” Melba said. “You think she’s a nice person, right?”
Jeanette responded promptly. “Yes, she is. And she certainly deserved better than a cheating husband. She’s so pretty, in an old-fashioned kind of way. Always dresses so nice, too. I wish I had her taste in clothes.” She laughed suddenly. “I guess when you’re that rich you can afford the best. Her clothes always look so expensive.”
“Elegant, yet simple,” Melba suggested.
“Yes, exactly,” Jeanette said.
“It was our Dr. Warriner’s family who has all the money,” Viccy said. “They say his parents, or maybe his grandparents, own half of downtown Atlanta.”
“They must be pretty rich then,” Melba said.
“Dr. Warriner never put on any airs, though,” Viccy said. “I have to give him credit for that.” She sighed. “When you grow up with that kind of money, maybe you don’t think about it.”
“I’d sure like to be that rich,” Melba said.
“Wouldn’t we all,” Jeanette replied.
For the next couple of minutes, all we heard was the sound of the women eating. Then Melba started up the conversation again.
“I guess Mrs. Warriner is going to be pretty rich now,” she said. “She’ll have all kinds of men swarming around her. Rich widows are very attractive, even if they have faces like a brick henhouse.”
“Maybe you need to start telling people you’re a rich widow, Viccy,” Jeanette said, with more than a touch of malice. “You’d get some guys interested in you real quick that way.” She laughed.
Viccy didn’t answer that, and after an awkward pause, Jeanette continued on a more ordinary note. “I guess Mrs. Warriner will inherit, unless his family made her sign some kind of prenup, that is.”
“With rich people, you never can tell,” Melba said. “I hope for her sake she gets a lot out of the deal.”
“She’s already had one man hanging around her,” Jeanette said. “That gorgeous man from the music department, Dr. d’Arcy. So handsome, and so French.”
“Does he have an accent?” Melba asked.
“He does,” Jeanette said, “and he sounds so romantic when he talks. I think our Dr. Warriner has been talking to him about research for one of her books, you know, the novels she writes.”
“He’s in the music department, you said?” Melba asked.
“Yes, I think he teaches ancient music or something like that,” Jeanette said. “Anyway, he’s been coming by the department to talk to her for several weeks lately.”
Miss Dickce and I exchanged knowing glances.
“Do you think he’s in love with her?” Viccy asked. “Maybe they’ve been having an affair, and that’s why our Dr. Warriner started having one with that woman.”
“She’s not that kind of woman,” Jeanette said. “Anyway, I never heard anything weird coming from her office when he was with her.”
“Did you walk by just to check it out?” Melba asked slyly.
“No, I did not,” Jeanette said hotly. “If you must know, I have to pass her office on the way to the ladies’ room, and, well, I have to go pretty often. I drink a lot of water during the day so I stay full. I like to snack, but if I drink water, I don’t.”
“Okay, so Mrs. Warriner isn’t having an affair,” Melba said. “But did you know that Dr. Warriner had attacked this d’Arcy a couple of times?”
“No,” Viccy and Jeannette said in unison, obviously astonished. “How do you know that?” Viccy asked.
“I have my sources,” Melba said. “Right there in public, both times. The second time the police came and took them to jail. They both got released, and sometime later that night, or in the morning, I guess, Dr. Warriner was killed.”
“I had no idea,” Jeanette said. “Do they think Dr. d’Arcy killed him?”
“He’s as good a suspect as any,” Melba said.
“What if Mrs. Warriner did it? Maybe she found out about his affair with that woman,” Viccy said.
“She could have done it, too, I guess,” Melba said. “After all, she’s probably going to be a rich woman now.”
“I don’t believe it,” Jeanette said. “I tell you, she’s not like that.”
“I’m sure she’d appreciate your loyalty,” Melba said. “You may end up on the witness stand, you never know.”
“That would be horrible,” Jeanette said, although her tone sounded more excited than horrified.
“I guess I could end up there, too,” Viccy said, sounding equally titillated.
“You’ve both talked to the sheriff’s department, right?” Melba asked.
“I have, a couple of times now,” Viccy said. “That Deputy Berry is pretty intense, let me tell you.”
“She’s smart and dedicated to solving cases,” Melba observed.
“More power to her,” Viccy said. “Jeanette, she talked to you at least once, right?”
“Yeah,” Jeanette said. “She scares me a little. Looks at you like she’s expecting you to confess something any minute.”
“Guilty conscience?” Melba said jestingly.
“No m
ore than you,” Jeanette retorted.
“Then you are a living angel, like me,” Melba said sweetly. They all laughed at that, and Miss Dickce and I both had a hard time not joining in. I almost spit out a bite of chicken, in fact.
“Seriously,” Melba said, “Kanesha Berry is first-rate. I’ve known her for years. Her mother is my friend Charlie’s housekeeper, you know.”
“I didn’t know that,” Viccy said, “but I’ve heard about your friend Charlie, with that great big cat.”
“Me, too,” Jeanette said. “I’ve also heard he’s kind of like Jessica Fletcher from that TV show, where dead bodies turn up all the time.” She giggled. “Better be careful, Melba, you could be next.”
I winced, and Miss Dickce shot me a look full of sympathy.
“Ha-ha,” Melba said, the two syllables dripping with sarcasm. “Yes, Charlie has been around a couple of murders, but they had nothing to do with him. Well, not much, anyway. He’s a smart guy, and he’s been a help to Kanesha, I can tell you that.”
“You mean he solves her cases for her?” Viccy asked. “Like that Lord Peter Wimsey did because the police weren’t smart enough?”
“I don’t know who the heck this Lord Peter guy is,” Melba said, “but it’s nothing like that. Kanesha is smart as a whip, and Charlie stumbles across information sometimes. He’s a nice guy. He can’t help it if people tell him things.”
“If you say so,” Viccy said. “Lord Peter is this rich, handsome detective in England. An amateur. My mother loved those books, and she made me read them when I was a teenager. They were pretty good, actually.” She sighed. “I guess I’ve wanted to meet a guy like that.”
“Better move to England, then,” Jeanette said, then giggled. “No lords around here that I know of.”
The conversation had rapidly descended into the realm of nonsense. I figured Melba had gotten pretty much everything she could from her friends. Miss Dickce and I had finished our meals, and Miss Dickce had started to check her watch. She probably had somewhere she needed to be this afternoon.
“We should all be so lucky,” Melba said. “I guess that’s what Dixie Belle Compton was trying to do, hook herself a rich husband in Dr. Warriner.”
The Pawful Truth Page 18