by Max Parrott
"Some murderers aren't dangerous at all," he replied. "They kill once, under extreme circumstances, and then never again. Some of them even turn themselves in. I just want to ask you a favor, Jasmine. When the time comes, I want you to be the one who puts the shackles on me."
Jasmine shook her head. "Don't be a jerk."
"Why not? It's in my nature. Everyone seems to think so, anyway. Look, I've helped you out. I've told you why I was angry with the sod, and I pointed you to Alicia. Now I would like to eat in peace."
She nodded. "One last question."
"Let's hear it."
"Are you angry with me?"
He looked up, and saw the pain in her eyes.
"No, I'm not angry with you," he said. "I might as well be angry at a cat for hissing or a llama for spitting. Not that I would compare you to an animal. I only mean that seeking truth is in your nature, and tactfully conversing with your friends is not. I accept your faults, because it seems like you have already accepted mine."
Jasmine took her tray to an empty table and dined alone. But not quite alone. Luffy was always there, ready to pick up any scraps she might drop on purpose or by accident.
***
Jasmine had already left several voicemails on Alicia's phone. She had asked anyone who looked willing to listen if they had seen the young woman, but no one, including her scattering of other friends, could give her an answer. There was nothing to do but wait and hope.
She and Luffy spent the entire day at Wildwood. There was no use going home when there was still work left to do, but there was no work to do until later when the professors had time for her. So she visited them one by one earlier in the afternoon between classes, asking them if they didn't mind staying a bit longer this evening. They all complied, though with varying levels of stubbornness.
The halls of Wildwood were empty, echoing with the ghosts of footsteps, when she and Luffy approached her creative writing class. They stepped inside without knocking. A sea of empty seats filled the majority of the space, all turned to face the illuminated desk. Sampson Hawke stood by his chair, busily sorting papers and shoving them into his bag. His glasses were on the verge of falling off. He had his coat on and seemed completely ready to leave, but there was a mug of tea nearby, freshly steaming. Jasmine got the impression that she had only as long as it took him to finish that mug.
"Professor Hawke," she said. "Thanks for meeting with me."
He raised a hand, not looking at her. His eyes stayed glued to the papers.
"I have a lot of grading ahead of me tonight," he said. "I would appreciate it if we could make this quick."
"Of course," said Jasmine. She dragged a seat over to his desk and sat down.
Sampson stared at her through his tiny glasses. He sighed and abandoned his busy work, taking a seat, leaning forward with his elbows on his bony knees.
"I think I've read enough mystery books to see where this is going," he said. "The bold young amateur sleuth, Jasmine Moore. And her sidekick Luffy. It just so happens that murder seems to follow you wherever you go. Life truly does imitate art."
She smiled. "And the sleuth always has a list of suspects to interview."
"Alright, Poirot," he said, gesturing as though to give her the floor. "Let's hear it."
"Well..." Jasmine touched a few discarded bits of paper that sat at the edge of the desk, fiddling with their crinkled edges. "Originally I wasn't even going to talk to you. Oliver wasn't even in any of your class periods, was he?"
Sampson shook his head. "No. But I'm curious... what made you decide to involve me?"
"Let's just call it intuition," said Jasmine. "A feeling."
Sampson smiled. "I'm familiar with that. Feeling and intuition. They seem like such pure, simple things when we read about them in books. But in real life they can be a lot trickier, can't they?"
She shrugged. "We'll see. Did you know Oliver at all?"
"No, I didn't know him personally."
"Personally?"
"I mean, I knew of him. He was the new president of the student council and he was making waves for a little while."
"What kind of waves?" Jasmine asked.
Sampson shrugged. "That's not really my area. All I care about is that I have tenure here, and I get to keep spreading the joy of creativity to future writers. As far as the future of Wildwood... I'm not worried."
"Why? Because it's been here for so long?"
Sampson chuckled. "I guess that is a kind of cognitive bias, isn't it? Just because something's old, we sometimes assume it'll be around forever. But sometimes the opposite is true. If something's old, it may be as close to death as it's ever been. That being said, I leave the changing of policies and methods to other people."
"So, you really don't know what Oliver was going after? You must have heard something, right?"
"I know he was going on about assigned parking," Sampson replied. Then, it seemed like inspiration came to him. A sudden thought, glowing in his eyes. "I think I also heard something about structural repairs. He wasn't happy with the state of some of the infrastructure around here."
"Like the railing from the clock tower?" Jasmine asked.
"Perhaps."
"Is there anything else you can tell me about Oliver?"
"Not off the top of my head," said Sampson. "Sorry. Like I said, I never knew him personally."
Jasmine nodded, holding in a sigh of frustration. A dead end, an intuition proven false. She thought she was quite skilled at detecting lies, and Sampson seemed to be telling the truth.
"One last question," she said. "I'm looking for someone. Kind of a friend of mine. He might have had a run-on with Oliver's dad. Do you know Lyle Bridges at all?"
"No," Sampson said quickly. "I don't know him. I've never been to Pineapple. I'm not a fan of that sort of food. You pay a hundred dollars and you don't even get full. What's the point?"
He laughed, shaking his head.
"I see what you mean," Jasmine replied. "My budget lets me get pizza once a week. That's about as fancy as I get."
"I know how that goes," Sampson said. "The life of a student can seem scary, Jasmine. But you'll look back on these years fondly. Don't waste them."
It was obviously meant as advice, but the tone of his voice made it feel more like a warning. Jasmine left the class room feeling strange.
"He was lying about Lyle," she said.
"How can you tell?" Luffy asked.
"The way his voice changed. He couldn't wait to change the subject. I'm not sure if it has anything to do with Oliver, but he's definitely hiding something."
The next stop was the class commonly called LnL, the language and linguistics course. She found the door already open, held by a rubber door stop. Alan Keller was inside, lounging on the hardwood stage beside his desk. He was holding something up to the light, staring through it with one eye closed. When Jasmine came closer, she saw that it was a ring. A wedding ring, it seemed, and a rather fancy one as well. Gold band, a huge rock catching the light and refracting it in scintillating patterns.
"Is that yours?" she asked.
Keller coughed once, sitting up and smoothing down his wild, wispy hair. He looked at her, holding up his other hand, which was marked by a plain silver band.
"I have mine right here," he said. "I found this one on my desk last week, along with a note. I thought nothing of it at the time, but..."
"A note?" Jasmine asked. "Can I see it?"
He nodded, scooting across the floor to grab a scrap of paper off the corner of his desk. He handed it over.
The handwriting was unfamiliar to Jasmine, but it was messy, clumsy, and smudged, which made her assume it was the scrawl of a male person.
I don't know how to figure out this mess I'm in. Hopefully someone will come along who does. Hold on to this for me. I can't trust anyone else right now.
"Professor," Jasmine said, her heart thumping. "We need to figure out who wrote this. We need to-"
"Compare
handwriting?" he offered. "I thought of that. You can blame the digital age for my failings. Just about every paper I have is typed and printed."
"Then let me take it," Jasmine said. "I can bring it to the police. They'll be able to identify the writer. But they also may need a statement from you."
Keller shrugged. "Sure. I don't mind."
"Okay. Do you have a bag? Anything I can store this in?"
Keller got off the floor with a chorus of grunts and popping joints. He limped around to the front of his desk and pulled a sandwich bag out of one of the drawers.
"I used these for that little role-playing game we played in class a few weeks ago," he said. "The only thing that's ever been stored in it is paper. Take it."
She slid both the ring and the note inside the baggie, sealed it up, and put it into her backpack.
"Do you think Oliver could have written it?" she asked.
"It would make sense," said Keller. "He apparently was in some sort of trouble, or else he wouldn't have ended up... you know. I wish I would have done more, but I had no idea who might have written that note until Oliver was found."
"Well," said Jasmine, "I wish you wouldn't have handled the ring with your bare hands."
"It was too late, anyhow. The only reason I saw it on my desk was because some student came up to ask me a question and started fiddling with it. Whatever evidence was on there is ruined now."
Jasmine nodded. "Do you remember who this student was?"
Keller narrowed his eyes, staring toward the ceiling. His tongue darted around for a moment as he tried to recall.
"Oh, yes," he said at last. "It was that friend of yours, Charles Dane. He wanted to know... well, some such question about the course work. I can't rightly recall."
Jasmine stared at Luffy. He stared back. They were beginning to see that this could very well be the type of mess that Oliver had found himself embroiled in.
***
"The evidence is leading us around in circles," Jasmine said as they walked through the quiet halls. "I thought we'd eliminate a few suspects today, but instead we just keep shifting suspicion around. It's like a game of spin the bottle, or something."
"What's spin the bottle?" Luffy asked.
"It's a game where you... well, you sit in a circle with a bunch of people and spin a bottle. Whoever it's pointing at when it stops, you have to kiss that person."
"What does that have to do with solving Oliver's murder?" Luffy asked with genuine curiosity, as though he was missing some brilliant piece of deduction.
"It's just an analogy. In this case, whoever the bottle's pointing at is the killer. It keeps moving around."
"Oh. I get it. But maybe we should play spin the bottle some time. I'll kiss anyone, I don't care."
"I know you don't, buddy," she said, ruffling the fur on his back. "But this is a different kind of kissing?"
"Oh! You mean, it's that weird kind that Brandon wanted to do with you. And now Charles wants it too."
She stared at him, making a disgusted face. "Charles?"
"Jeez, maybe I'm the real detective here. They should change the billing around. It's not Jaz and Luffy anymore. Now it's Luffy and Jaz."
She groaned. "Just tell me what you're talking about."
"Do I have to spell it out?" Luffy asked. "I guess I do. Well, my brilliant friend, just earlier today Charles says he wanted Alicia's help hooking him up with a girl he liked. Then when you asked him about it he got all cagey."
"Did he get cagey?" Jasmine asked. "Maybe we're remembering it differently."
"Oh, he got cagey alright."
She shrugged. "I think that's just the way he is."
"Yeah, well, that is true. But it's also true that he likes you."
Jasmine sighed. "Boys and their crushes. I think we do need to talk to him again, but I'm not bringing this up."
"We need to know about the ring, right?" Luffy asked.
Jasmine nodded. "Charles is smart. If both he and that ring have something to do with Oliver's death, I wouldn't be surprised if he spotted it and decided to try and mess up the evidence somehow. It's a long shot, but it's possible."
"You could probably say the same thing about his chances with you."
"Shut up, Luffy."
He barked at her in response, but said nothing more.
***
They found Professor Lucille Whitaker hard at work on her computer, typing fast and frowning in concentration. She was the youngest tenured professor in all of Wildwood's history, and it showed. Jasmine thought Lucille looked younger than she did in a lot of ways, perhaps owing to the glow of pregnancy.
Normally, Lucille was a calm, patient, and all-round lovely individual. Jasmine was surprised when the professor didn't even look at her as she came in, instead raising a finger to instruct her to wait. She then went back to typing without a word, her frown deepening. She seemed frustrated by something. Angry, even.
Jasmine licked her lips. "Professor Whitaker, I-"
"Not a problem!" Lucille said a voice that sounded quite fake. She smiled now, but still did not take her eyes from the screen. "Just a moment."
She typed a few more words, clicked a few times, then switched her monitor off. Turning toward Jasmine, she sat in her usual patient posture. But today it seemed affected rather than genuine, as if she was straining toward normalcy.
"I can come back another time if it's more convenient," Jasmine said.
"No, don't bother with that," said Lucille. "I just want you to know something, Jasmine. Mothers are very protective of their children. Even the ones who aren't born yet."
"I'm sure they are," Jasmine replied, narrowing her eyes. "My mother worries about me all the time."
Lucille nodded. "If I was her, I'd do the same. I don't appreciate what you're doing. Not at all."
"Oh?" Jasmine asked, feeling a flame of anger curling up inside her. "What is it I'm doing that's bothering you so much?"
"You're bringing me into something I have no reason to be a part of. I don't consent to being a suspect in your sad little amateur investigation. If you don't mind me saying, I think whatever success you had before has now gone completely to your head."
Luffy growled, folding back his ears. Lucille jumped back, staring at him with fear in her eyes.
"Don't worry about him," Jasmine said. "He's never bitten anyone. Not even the murderer I helped catch in Blackwood Cove. And he won't bite the murderer I'm going to catch here, either. And you can't just verbally abuse me like that."
Lucille reeled herself back in toward the desk. Her formerly perfect hair had started to fall apart. Strands of it had come loose from the ponytail and now trailed across her forehead.
"Actually, I can," she said. "I have a family, Miss Moore. And I'm going to say this once. Don't mess with my family, whatever you do."
Jasmine's jaw dropped. "Your family? Who said anything about them?"
"You don't understand. How could you? If you mess with me, you mess with them. It really is that simple. My babies need me and I'm not going to get into trouble because some girl with delusions of grandeur decided I was involved with something."
"Miss Whitaker," Jasmine said patiently. "That's not what this is about. I just wanted to ask you some questions, since you were one of Oliver's teachers. And because I thought you were a bit more open-minded than this."
Lucille pulled her hair out of the ponytail with a grunt of irritation and set to fixing it. "You can ask your questions. I won't stop you. It's your right to talk."
"Okay, then. Did anything happen recently with Oliver? Any change in his behavior? Anything strange at all?"
"Yeah, actually. His grades started to drop. The quality of his work went down. I noticed he seemed a little distracted in class. I figured it was because of his position on the student council. That sort of thing tends to steal your attention."
Jasmine nodded. "Did he seem... worried? Troubled?"
Lucille shook her head. "No. But that doesn't
mean he wasn't. Oliver was like a turtle... when he wanted to be safe, he pulled back in his shell."
Jasmine opened her backpack and pulled out the baggie she had gotten from Professor Keller.
"Does this ring look familiar to you?" she asked.
As Lucille looked, Jasmine paid close attentions to the woman's face. Especially the eyes. No matter what came out of her mouth, the real answer would be shown in the small, involuntary movements in her facial muscles.
"No, I don't think so," Lucille said. "A bit gaudy for my tastes. You can't do anything when you've got a stone that big sticking out from your finger."
Jasmine looked down at Luffy and nodded, as though to say she gets a pass.
Then she turned the bag around and showed Lucille what was behind the ring; the note that Keller had found.
"Do you recognize this handwriting?" she asked.
"Should I?" said Lucille.
"Maybe. Maybe not. I was just wondering if you might have recognized it."
Lucille studied it for a moment, frowning again. Then she shook her head.
"It could be any number of students," she said. "They all have terrible handwriting. Laptops and printers were God's gift to teachers around the world."
Lucille attempted a smile then, and mostly succeeded. Jasmine stared, trying to figure out what was going on behind the young professor's pearly white teeth and gorgeous green eyes. Pregnancy hormones playing havoc with her emotional state, or something else? Either way, she seemed to be trying to smooth things over, to end the conversation on a peaceful note.
"Is there anything else you can think of that could be of importance?" Jasmine asked coldly, refusing to climb back up on the high road now that she had been dragged down off it.
"That depends," said Lucille.
"On what?"
"On whether or not you've already talked to Alan Keller."
Jasmine leaned forward. "Why would you bring his name up?"
Lucille smiled. "So, you have talked to him. Maybe you should try again. What did he tell you, that Oliver was a model student? That no one hated him? Well, I can tell you one person who did hate him."
"Keller?" Jasmine said. "Why? How?"
"Because Mr. Bridges was a know-it-all," Lucille said. "There's nothing wrong with that. I was the same when I was in school. Don't tell me you haven't noticed."