Murder Is Collegiate

by Diane Weiner

“So this adjunct was angry at Martha Peterson, and she was in the building at the time of the murder.”

  “She was angry, but she stormed out of the building right before Martha came into my office.”

  “Did you see or hear her drive away?”

  “No, but I wasn’t listening for that.”

  “What about Joe Sommers? Did you see him that day?”

  “He was here, but then he left to go to the inauguration. Practically everyone who was on campus went to it. Except for me and Martha.”

  “Is there anyone on campus who would have an ax to grind with you or with Martha?”

  Without hesitation, Emily said, “Morgan Reynolds. She’s a math professor. Her husband used to have my job, but he was let go for incompetence. She thinks I had something to do with it even though I was hired months after he was fired.”

  Susan took the scrub brush and poured bleach on the bloodstain. I might as well try to get this out. It will be much more upsetting for Emily if it remains.

  “So on campus, one of the adjunct instructors was angry with Martha, and this Morgan Reynolds was angry with you.”

  “Yes, but I can’t imagine either as a killer.”

  “Killers come in all shapes and sizes. You never know. What about enemies from outside of school?”

  “No, no one.”

  Susan interrupted. “What about Buzz and Kiki? They want you to sell your place to Peewee Miniatures so they will buy their place too. They say it will make you both rich.”

  “They’re just a couple of spoiled millennials. If they are on the list, you’d have to add the owner of Peewee also. He’s putting on the pressure big time.”

  Detective Wooster had been jotting notes. “So we’ll check this adjunct instructor… What’s her name?”

  “Sarah Kimberly.”

  ”Sarah Kimberly. Morgan Reynolds, Kiki and Buzz…”

  “Montaldo. Their last name is Montaldo.”

  “Kiki and Buzz Montaldo, and the owner of Peewee Miniatures…”

  “Peter Taglieri.”

  “Sarah Kimberly, Morgan Reynolds, Kiki and Buzz Montaldo, and Peter Taglieri of Peewee Miniatures. Anyone else?”

  “Not that I can think of.”

  “Okay then. We’ll be in touch.”

  Chapter 7

  “Sorry we never got around to that tour,” said Emily.

  Henry chopped onions on the butcher-block cutting board while Emily peeled potatoes.

  Mike clumsily peeled and sliced a bunch of carrots. “Another day. It’s more important that Emily gets time to relax.”

  “And cooking does that for me,” said Emily. “Susan, you never told me what happened with the Richard Stirling case. Did he get his new trial?”

  “He did. After we found who really killed Richard’s wife, thirty years later he was released from prison.”

  “Wow, poor man. Thirty years in jail for a crime he didn’t commit.”

  “Don’t feel too sorry for him. He may not be a murderer, but he’s a first-class schmuck. He moved in with Audrey, my birth mother, down in Banyan Beach, Florida. He doesn’t have a job—after all, who’s going to hire a guy in his late seventies with no recent employment experience?”

  “And a prison record to boot,” added Mike. “He was found innocent, but you know, the fact that he spent the last thirty years in jail is hard to dismiss.”

  Emily dumped the carrots and onions into the stew pot. Susan added the chicken she’d been cutting.

  “Good thing my half brother, George, is looking out for her. Otherwise Richard would be bleeding her dry. She’d already spent a small fortune on his defense. George works for the DEA and has good detective skills.”

  “It must run in the family,” said Emily. “Speaking of mothers, mine is on the prowl for a third husband. She’s infiltrated the local Parents Without Partners group even though I’m in my early fifties and my brother is in his late forties. Says it’s a great place to find single men.”

  Henry rinsed his hands in the kitchen sink. “How about a walk while the stew simmers?”

  Susan and Mike grabbed their coats. It was a beautiful evening, cold but clear. The sky was full of stars, which seemed especially bright without the interference of city lights. Susan had the Christmas song Sleigh Ride running through her head. The song inspired her to grab Mike’s hand and snuggle up close as they walked.

  A chocolate-black Labrador Retriever leapt into view, followed by Kurt, the neighbor from Minnesota.

  “Enjoying a brisk walk I see,” said Kurt.

  “Working up an appetite for dinner,” said Henry.

  “Did you ever check out the latch on your barn door? I saw it open again last night.”

  “Really? I checked, and it seemed to be working fine.” He looked over at the barn. “It’s shut now.”

  “And so it is. Hope you don’t have a freeloader using your barn for a hotel. Anyhow, I’ll keep an eye out. Come on, Prancer.” Kurt and his dog disappeared down the road.

  Henry said, “As long as we’re out here, let me make sure there’s no freeloader in there.” He pointed at the barn. They all followed on his heels. Was there an interloper inside? Susan held her breath while Henry flung open the door. He grabbed a flashlight from the hook on the wall and shone it on each area of the barn as he entered.

  “No one’s in here. Maybe Kurt’s been nipping the Schnapps. There’s no sign anyone has tried to break in.”

  “Let’s go home. The stew should be ready by now,” said Emily.

  The aroma wafted through the front door. Chicken stew with root vegetables. Susan helped Emily whip up some dumplings, and soon they gathered around the table.

  “Emily, you sure can cook,” said Mike. Susan shot him a look. “You cook almost as well as Susan does.” He winked at Emily when Susan turned her head.

  “I saw that,” said Susan. “Emily, I was wondering, do you think Martha’s murder had anything to do with the book you’re writing?”

  “I was wondering that myself since my tapes were stolen. I can’t imagine who would care enough to sabotage the book. Ashley’s parents still live in the area. They’d like nothing better than for me to prove foul play was involved. If there was though, the perpetrator surely would have fled the area by now.”

  “And don’t forget, the police think Ashley left of her own free will,” added Henry.

  “Don’t get me started,” said Emily. “Through my interviews, I had proof that Ashley never had an abusive boyfriend. That was one theory that encouraged the police to think she left voluntarily.”

  Changing the subject, Henry suggested having their dessert in the living room. “I heard the news is showing clips from the inauguration tonight.”

  Emily took out a tin of homemade brownies and set them on the coffee table. Henry turned on the TV.

  “Hey, there it is. There’s the limo bringing the new president to the auditorium.”

  Emily said, “What a crowd. Hey, what’s that?”

  “What?” asked Henry.

  “Look, it’s the Peewee Miniatures van. And it’s driving away from the inauguration. It’s the only vehicle heading away,” said Henry.

  “Interesting. Why was it on campus in the first place?” asked Susan.

  Emily said, “You know, if the cold case about Ashley Young resurfaced, it could discourage people from moving into this community. Bad publicity hurts when you’re trying to sell houses in what is supposed to be a community where residents don’t have to lock their doors.”

  Susan thought for a moment. “And Peewee wants you to sell your property to them so they can build. That’s two strikes against you, Emily.”

  Henry said, “Unless the college plans on building miniature dorms, which I doubt, Peewee has no business being anywhere near the campus.”

  Chapter 8

  The next morning, Emily and Henry took Susan and Mike to brunch at The Outside Inn. As they entered, they passed Detectives Wooster and O’Leary.

 
“Detective Wooster, any more news about Martha’s murder?” asked Henry.

  “We narrowed down the murder weapon. It’s something like a heavy paperweight or substantial figurine.”

  “So it could have been used by either a man or a woman?” asked Susan.

  “Yes. The weapon was dense enough to kill but not too heavy to lift. We found nothing at the crime scene matching that description, so we believe this was premeditated. The murderer brought the weapon with him. Unless, Mrs. Fox, you noticed anything fitting that description missing from your office.”

  “No. We were there the other day. Other than my audiotapes, nothing else was taken.”

  Detective O’Leary said, “There’s been more crime in this town in the past few months than there’s been in the last decade. Residents are panicking.”

  “That’s not all bad,” said Detective Wooster. “We don’t want them panicked, but we do want them to be alert and to lock their doors. Stay safe and have a good brunch.”

  Coralee came into the lobby shaking her head. “Oh dear. Another theft here at the inn. What’s going on?”

  “Is that why the detectives were here?” asked Emily.

  “Yes. Another one of our guests had a necklace stolen. She swears her door was locked and it was taken while she was in the shower, just like the guest who had her necklace stolen last night. Creepy. If it gets out, I’ll lose business for sure. And anyway, it makes my skin crawl knowing a prowler has been in my place. I worry about my own safety as well as that of my guests. What with Martha’s murder and all. What if the two crimes are related?”

  Susan tried to reassure her. “I don’t think there’s any connection. Martha had jewelry on her when she was killed. Surely a jewel thief would have noticed and taken it.”

  “I guess that makes sense,” said Coralee. “Come on. What kind of hostess am I? Follow me into the dining room. We have fresh blueberry muffins, and the special today is an asparagus omelet with goat cheese. Can I start you with some coffee?”

  “Coffee sounds great,” said Henry.

  Coralee seated them at the same table where they had sat at dinner the other night. Susan craned her neck in an attempt to see what the other diners were eating. Chocolate chip pancakes, eggs, some sort of cooked cereal… Yum that looks really good. French toast with bananas. That’s what I’ll have.

  As she eyed the plate of French toast, the man eating it whipped his head around and looked at her. She quickly averted her eyes. She covered the side of her face with her hand, but being Susan, it took only a few seconds before she peeked through her fingers. He was tall and thin, wearing Khakis and a dress shirt. Oh, no! He’s getting up and coming over to our table.

  “Henry and Emily, enjoying brunch at the inn. You know, if you didn’t live here, you could make this a vacation destination and still enjoy Sugarbury Falls without the responsibility that goes along with owning property. You could even vacation with your friends. Who is this handsome couple, Emily?”

  “These are our friends, Susan and Mike Wiles. Susan and Mike, this is Peter Taglieri. He owns Peewee Miniatures.”

  Peter shook their hands. “And where are you from?”

  Susan was afraid her face had turned red from the embarrassment of getting caught gawking at Peter Taglieri’s French toast. She swallowed and answered, “We’re from upstate New York, ninety miles north of the city.”

  “Then you’re within driving distance. I’d love to show you our miniature home models. I have plans for a glorious mini-community—that is, if your friends would stop being so stubborn.”

  “Give it up,” said Henry. “Nothing you say will convince us to sell.”

  “You’re being quite selfish. Think of all the new jobs my project would bring to this town. It’s not like the economy couldn’t use a boost. Take your friend Coralee. My project would bring in troves of diners and guests. Even that son of hers could benefit. I’m sure I could find a place for him.”

  “You’re wasting your breath.”

  “You may be able to say no to me, but when the community starts pressuring you, maybe in ways you might not imagine…”

  Henry stood up. “Are you threatening us?”

  “Of course not. Just giving you some food for thought. Enjoy your brunch.”

  After he left, Coralee came by. “Was he bothering you?”

  “Just the usual,” said Emily. “Trying to pressure us to sell, even implying we could face consequences from the community.”

  “He’s blowing hot air. I don’t want that man or his business anywhere near here. You keep holding out. I’ll see you at Martha’s memorial service tomorrow. Her church isn’t big enough to accommodate all the expected mourners, so it’s being held at the auditorium. Says a lot about how people felt about her.”

  Stuffed from the delicious meal, the foursome returned to Henry and Emily’s cabin.

  “We’ll need to do some major snowshoeing tomorrow to work off that dinner,” said Susan.

  “It’s vacation,” said Emily. “Everyone knows vacation calories don’t count.”

  “At least I left my skinny jeans back home,” said Susan. Not that I’ve been able to wear them in the last decade.

  Henry opened the door. “Be careful, everyone. I keep the walk shoveled, but sometimes there are patches of ice.”

  Susan grabbed Mike’s arm and started toward the door behind Emily. Emily pulled a note off the front door.

  “What’s that?” said Susan.

  “I don’t know. It was taped to the door.” Emily unfolded the note and read it aloud. “Leave it alone, or you’ll be sorry.”

  “Leave what alone?” said Susan.

  Henry grabbed the note. “This is a threat. Let’s go inside and call the police.”

  “First a murder in my office. Then my car gets bullied into the lake with me in it. Now this?”

  “Don’t worry. The police will get to the bottom of it,” said Susan.

  “Meanwhile,” said Henry, “I don’t want you going out alone. That goes for you too, Susan.”

  Chapter 9

  The next morning, Henry pulled up in front of the college auditorium. Throngs of people congregated outside.

  “Martha was well loved. Look at all these people here for her memorial service,” said Emily. “Susan and Mike, you didn’t have to come. You didn’t even know her, and besides, this is supposed to be a vacation for you.”

  Susan said, “We’re here to support you, and we’re not leaving.”

  The auditorium door opened, and people filed in. Henry led the way. They found seats together in the back row. Susan sat behind a woman wearing a black caftan and long, beaded earrings.

  “Emily, is that Morgan Reynolds?” whispered Susan.

  “Yes. Remember we ran into them at the inn when we had dinner the other night. She’s the one who thinks I took her husband’s job. He’s right next to her.”

  Morgan’s hair was pulled into a loose ponytail. Susan noticed the oversized earrings Morgan wore. Where had she seen ones like that recently?

  The new president of St. Edwards walked onto the stage and stood behind the podium.

  “Welcome. By the turnout, I am overwhelmed by the number of friends Martha Peterson had in this community. I never had the pleasure of meeting her, but I know her presence will be greatly missed.”

  The college president continued. He introduced Martha’s sister who had flown in from California, then turned the service over to Martha’s pastor. Susan looked around the room. She spotted Coralee with her son Noah, and Joe, Emily’s friendly coworker. While the pastor spoke, Gerald Reynolds suddenly stood up in the pew in front of Susan.

  Susan whispered to Emily, “What’s he doing?”

  “I don’t know. He does weird things like that. Morgan is pulling him back down.”

  “Do you think he has dementia?”

  “It has crossed my mind. Morgan seems to cover his tracks. She’s always with him lately.”

  Susan watched
Morgan’s earring swing as she turned her head. “Emily! See Morgan’s earring?”

  “Yes, she wears artsy jewelry all the time.”

  “That’s my point. Remember the earring I found stuck under your office door? The one we gave to the police?”

  “It looks like something Morgan would wear. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “That she was in the office when Martha was killed? Do you think she did it?”

  Emily folded her hands. “She said she and Gerald were going to the inauguration. Let’s tell Detective Wooster our suspicions. I saw him in the back of the auditorium.”

  “Detectives like to scope out funerals and memorial services to scan for people acting strangely,” said Susan. “Lots of times the murderer will be right there at the service.”

  Henry whispered to her. “Shh. Have some respect. Talk about this later.”

  The pastor opened the floor for people to share memories of Martha. A student stood up and told a story about the time she was going to drop out, but Martha Peterson had convinced her to stay. Martha’s sister stood up next.

  “My sister was my best friend and confidante. She was one of the most loving people this world has ever seen, and I’m not just saying it because I’m her sister. You’ll hear the same from her students as well as her boyfriend, who regrettably couldn’t be here today.”

  Susan whispered to Emily, “Boyfriend?”

  “She never mentioned a boyfriend to me.”

  Sarah Kimberly, one of the English Department’s adjunct instructors stood up. “Miss Peterson was a competent professor who did her job well.” Then she sat down.

  “Emily, she doesn’t look upset at all. Very businesslike.”

  “She was angry with Martha over some issue in the basic comp class. I don’t know what it was as Martha never mentioned it.”

  The service concluded with a prayer. The crowd filtered out to the snowy lawn. Susan pointed out the detective. “Let’s tell him about the earring.”

  “Detective, did you find prints on the earring I picked up the other day? I think it belongs to Morgan Reynolds.”

  “The cleaning crew vacuums every night,” said Emily. “It couldn’t have been there long.”