Her Own Drum

by Ali Franklin

  They had been combing through the items for over an hour when there was a knock at the door. Jimmy admitted a sheriff’s deputy who said, “Detective Trainor will see you now.”

  “Should I come in there, or does she want to come in here?” asked Ryan.

  The deputy stared. “You need to go to her.” Ryan exchanged a glance with Jimmy but neither responded.

  The deputy led Ryan down the hall to the rehearsal room. Nicki met her at the door and walked Ryan over to the woman they had almost collided with in the hall earlier. The woman was looking down as she wrote something in a small leather-covered notebook.

  “Detective Maddie Trainor of the Haverwood County Sheriff’s Department,” said Nicki, “meet Dr. Ryan McCabe.”

  6

  The woman looked up, one eyebrow raised.

  “Doctor?” she asked.

  Yes,” answered Ryan. “I have a PhD in music composition.”

  “Do the kids call you Doctor?” asked the detective.

  “The students” Ryan emphasized the word, “call me Doctor, or Professor, or sometimes Dean.”

  The detective grunted. Ryan thought it sounded suspiciously like a “Harumph.”

  Ryan waited a moment, then asked, “Did you want to ask me some questions?”

  The detective raised one finger. “Just a moment.” She finished writing and looked at Ryan again. “Sit down, please,” she said, motioning to one of the chairs Nicki had retrieved earlier. Ryan sat. Trainor stayed on her feet.

  Ryan looked around. The room was brimming with activity. A crime scene tech was applying powder to all of the surfaces in the room while another followed with fingerprint tape. Three people were huddled over the body in the drum. One man had a disposable apron covering his suit and tie. The other two, a man and a woman, wore dark blue jumpsuits with the word “CORONER” printed in large white letters on their backs.

  The man with the apron was speaking into a handheld recorder. Ryan caught the phrase “rigor mortis,” but could not hear much more than that. She looked back up at the tall detective standing over her. Trainor was still ignoring her, writing in that notebook.

  Nicki was now talking with a good-looking older man in a blazer and button-down shirt. He looked up from his notebook and smiled at Ryan, then walked over and offered his hand.

  “Hi. I’m Jack Prieto. I’m Detective Trainor’s partner.” He sat down next to Ryan, sympathy on his face. “I understand you found the body?”

  “Yes.” Ryan clenched her hands together and told herself this was not the time to cry. “I was just leaving the building and noticed the doors to this room were open. I came in to see if someone was here and noticed the timps looked funny.”

  The detective scribbled something. He said, “I understand that you’ve identified the victim as Cora DeLuca?”

  “Yes,” said Ryan. “She was on the music faculty here. Percussion.”

  “Do you know how we can contact her family?” he asked.

  “No, but you might want to ask Teddy Sayers. She’s another faculty member and she was friends with Cora."

  Prieto asked her to spell Teddy’s name and provide her phone number. Ryan chided herself for not knowing more about Cora, who had been on the faculty for two years. She made a mental note to get to know more about each of her coworkers in the music department.

  Looking around again, she noticed a gurney topped with a white sheet and a black object about the size of a bread box. One of the coroner’s assistants grabbed the black bundle and unrolled it across the top of the gurney. Ran felt her stomach turn. It was a body bag. She turned away.

  The lead detective looked over and spoke to her partner. “Jack, I want you to go back to the lab with the drum. Take Hansen and make sure nothing happens to it. I’ll meet you back at the station.”

  Jack stood up and shook Ryan’s hand again. “Thanks for the information. I’m truly sorry for your loss.” He walked away and tapped a deputy on the shoulder. They spoke in low voices for a moment, then walked out of the room.

  Trainor sat in the seat Jack had vacated and looked at Ryan. “Okay, Ms. McCabe, please start at the beginning and tell me how you came to find the victim.”

  Ryan slumped. She didn’t want to have to tell the whole story again. But she knew the best way to help Cora was to help the investigators. So she began her story, starting when she walked into VZ and ending when she called Nicki.

  “Why didn’t you call nine-one-one?” The detective asked.

  “I…,” Ryan stammered. She took a deep breath. “I called the person I automatically call when there is an emergency on campus.”

  Trainor’s mouth twitched. “I’m sure the campus police are fine for breaking up keg parties, but when there is a real emergency, you should call the Sheriff’s office.”

  “Detective, we have real emergencies on this campus.” She heard her voice raising in volume. “And our officers are perfectly capable of handling anything that comes their way. In fact, I’m sure they could manage this investigation without you.” A couple of people looked their way, wondering if there was going to be a problem.

  Nicki hurried over. She squatted down next to Ryan and put her hand on her friend’s arm. “Ryan, Detective Trainor is only trying to help.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” Ryan looked down into her lap.

  “It’s okay, Statton, I’ve got this,” said Trainor, motioning with her head for Nicki to leave them alone. Ryan ran her palms up and down her thighs and tried to focus on helping Cora.

  “Okay, Ms. McCabe, let’s continue,” said the detective. “How did you know the victim?”

  “We teach in the same department. We didn’t really work together, so I didn’t spend much time with her,” said Ryan

  “But you’re sure it’s her?” asked the detective

  “Positive."

  “Did you spend any time with the victim outside of work?”

  “No,” said Ryan. “I told you. I didn’t really know her.”

  “It’s interesting that you’re the one who found the body,” said the detective.

  Ryan sighed. “I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Classes are out and a bunch of us were over on the rec fields today. Cora was supposed to be with us. She was probably the only one who had been in the building all day.” Except for whoever had hurt her, Ryan thought. She could feel tears threatening.

  “She was supposed to be with you today?” The detective paused, pen held over the notebook.

  “We have this thing we do every year on the first Monday after graduation,” Ryan explained. “Paintball.” Suddenly she felt embarrassed.

  “Paintball,” repeated Trainor.

  “It’s a tradition.”

  “That’s probably something to see, a bunch of professors running around trying to shoot each other.” The detective looked like she might smile. Then she frowned and looked down at her notebook. “Why didn’t you come look for her if you were expecting her to be there?” she asked.

  “It’s a pretty informal thing,” said Ryan. “People show up if they want to play. If they don’t come, we figure they have something better to do.”

  The detective looked at her notebook and asked, “What time was this paintball event?”

  “It started at about one-thirty.” She remembered the Alumni Bell. “It ended just after three.”

  “And what did you all do after that?” asked the detective.

  “Most went straight to O’Leary’s. I went to the rec center for a shower and met them there a little later.”

  “What time did you get to O’Leary’s?” asked Trainor.

  “About four.”

  “So between three thirty and four you were on the rec fields or in the rec center?” asked the detective.

  “Yes, but I went to Glaser Hall to get a change of clothes before going to the rec center,” said Ryan.

  “And was anyone with you when you went to… Glaser Hall?” asked Trainor.

  �
��No. I was alone."

  The detective was making a lot of notes. She flipped back one page to read something she had written earlier, then asked, “Why did you come to this building?”

  Ryan explained her errand earlier that evening, flushing under the detective’s unwavering gaze.

  "So you just happened to walk through the building, exactly when there was a dead body to be found?”

  Ryan waited a beat before answering. “Like I said, I’m not here very much. I only teach one class a semester and I don’t usually come to VZ — Van Zandt — on Mondays.”

  “You only work one day a week?” asked the detective.

  “No. I’m also the dean of students. That’s my main job. Teaching music is something I do part-time,” said Ryan. “I usually work out of Glaser Hall on the other side of campus.”

  The detective made another note, then scribbled it out and rewrote it. “Ms. McCabe, did you like the victim?”

  Ryan felt her ears and face get hot as she looked up at her interrogator. “She has a name, Detective. Dr. Cora DeLuca.”

  “Mmm, yes. Ms. DeLuca,” responded Trainor. “Did you like her?”

  “I told you. I hardly knew her,” answered Ryan.

  “I’ve always heard it’s pretty competitive here in the ivory tower. “ The detective scrutinized Ryan’s face. “Were people competing with DeLuca?”

  “Competing? No,” said Ryan. “She’s our only percussionist. There’s no one else who could take her place.”

  “So none of the other professors want her job?” asked Trainor.

  “None of the other professors are qualified for her job."

  “What will you do now that she’s gone?” asked the detective.

  “You’ll have to ask the chair of the music department, Dr. Olivia Keating,” said Ryan. “I assume we’ll have some of Cora’s graduate students take over her classes, with oversight from another music faculty member.”

  The detective made a note. She looked at Ryan for a long moment. “Ms. McCabe, we will probably need to talk to you again, so please do not leave Haverwood County without my approval.”

  “What?” Ryan half-stood as the tears threatened again. “I’ve told you everything I know. You need to go find out who killed Cora. I can’t tell you anything else.” She grabbed the back of the detective’s chair to stop the room from spinning.

  Trainor’s voice was flat. “Thank you, Ms. McCabe. That’s all for now.” She turned toward Nicki. “Statton, come over here, please.”

  Nicki nodded and walked over to the two chairs. The detective pointed at Ryan. “You should help Ms. McCabe get home. Maybe see if she’s got someone she can stay with for a few days.”

  “Affirmative,” said Nicki. “I’ll have my officers remain here to assist until I get back.”

  “No need,” said Trainor. “We can handle the scene.” Ryan could tell from the thin line of her lips that Nicki was straining to keep her composure.

  The chief looked at the detective. “The campus is still my responsibility. My officers will remain and I’ll be right back.” She nodded to Trainor, then took Ryan’s arm and led her toward the door. Ryan didn’t need to be an expert to read her own expression in the wall-length mirror. Narrowed eyes, downturned mouth, pulled-up chin: sadness.

  Nicki and Ryan walked in silence until they entered Ryan’s office. Nicki closed the door and let out a long breath. “Wow,” she said, leaning against the desk.

  “What is her problem?” asked Ryan.

  Nicki frowned. “I know from experience it’s tough to come in and override someone’s jurisdiction. She’s just making sure everyone knows she’s the alpha dog.”

  “But she’s practically treating me like a suspect!”

  “She may be overdoing it a little.” Nicki shrugged. “Maybe it’s her first murder investigation. She doesn’t look like an old jaded vet. How old do you think she is? Thirty?”

  Ryan considered the no-nonsense woman who had just interviewed her. Tall with a fit, muscular build, light makeup on an unlined face, and auburn hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. She looked a bit younger than Ryan’s own thirty-three years.

  “Yeah, maybe thirty,” answered Ryan. “I hope it’s not her first murder. For Cora’s sake.”

  Nicki nodded. “I’m sorry you had to go through this. I know it’s hard to see someone you knew like that.”

  “I still can’t believe it.” Suddenly remembering, Ryan straightened a little. “Hey, did you call Teddy to see if she knew anything about Cora’s family?”

  “I offered, but detective Trainor said she’d handle it,” answered Nicki. “Teddy’s going to be in for a shock.”

  “Can I call her?” asked Ryan.

  “Not until you know she’s talked with the detectives,” said Nicki. She jerked a thumb over one shoulder in the direction of the classroom. “The way that one is watching you, you don’t want to step outside the lines.”

  The women were quiet for a moment. Then Ryan looked up at the police chief. “Nick, what do you think about all of this? About Cora?” .

  “Hard to say,” replied the chief. “But I heard someone in there say it looked like a crime of passion. I reckon they'll dig pretty deep into the backgrounds of her friends and family. Could take a while.”

  “A crime of passion,” Ryan repeated. She recalled the last time she had played with Cora. It was during a rehearsal for the spring opera, and Cora was filling in for a student on the marimba. Ryan recalled that Cora was a talented instrumentalist as well as a good teacher. It was hard to imagine someone wanting to kill her. In face, it was insane.

  She walked to the other side of her desk and reached down to lift the carryall that held her pondwater-soaked clothes. “I’d better get home and get these paintball clothes in the wash,” she said.

  Nicki faced her. “Listen, Ryan. Trainor was right. You should stay with someone for a couple of days. Do you think you could stay with Teddy? If not, you’re welcome to bunk at my place.”

  Ryan looked up. “No, I’m fine. If I get freaked out I’ll call Teddy and Summer. I promise.”

  “I’m sure Trainor or Prieto will call Teddy soon. They’ve got to take care of the notifications and start interviewing family members. They need to find a motive ASAP.” Nicki took the bag from Ryan. “C’mon. Let me drive you home.”

  “No, no,” protested Ryan. “It’s fine. I’m fine. It’s only ten minutes away. You should stay here and make sure they don’t do something weird with the classroom or the evidence.” She smiled at her friend. “I promise I’ll call when I get home. Really.”

  “I'll walk you to your car,” said Nicki. Ryan nodded.

  As they walked, Nicki said, “I called in a few more patrol officers to cover the campus while the guys are helping the detectives with the investigation.”

  Ryan stopped short, almost tripping Nicki. She hadn't been thinking about the rest of the campus. “I’m glad the students are gone," she said. "It would be hard to stem a panic if they were here."

  They reached Ryan’s car. Nicki opened the back door and tossed in the carryall. “Hey,” she said “If you don’t call in fifteen minutes, I’m coming to your house, sirens and all.”

  “Got it,” said Ryan. “Thanks, Chief.”

  Ryan’s house was only four and a half miles away, and she called Nicki as soon as she pulled into the driveway. But the ten-minute drive had given her plenty of time to think about what she’d learned. It looked like a crime of passion and the authorities were focusing on the hour between three and four o’clock.

  As she entered her house and flicked on the lights, she thought about the participants in the paintball game. Would any of them want to hurt Cora? There were only a couple of music faculty there and it was hard to imagine any of them having anything against the percussion professor. What about the other faculty, or the administrators? Had anyone said anything when they realized Cora had not come to the match? She didn’t recall anyone really talking about it.


  Thirty minutes later she slid into bed, her muscles too tired to move any more. She had almost begun to relax when she realized it. If she had gone to Van Zandt Hall earlier in the day, she might have arrived before it was too late for Cora. Her chest felt like it was being squeezed by a giant fist. She rolled onto her back and lifted her fingers to the bridge of her nose. No, no, no, she thought. Not again.

  7

  Ryan’s phone rang before her alarm had a chance to. It was Teddy.

  “Are you okay?” Teddy’s voice burst from the phone. “I wanted to call you a few hours ago, but I was hoping you were getting some sleep.”

  Ryan sat up and rubbed her face. She pulled the phone away from her ear to look at the screen, blinking a couple of times before she could focus on the numbers. Five fifteen. She sighed.

  “Morning,” she said. “I’m fine, but it was a rough night. Did the detectives call you?”

  "They came over and we talked for about an hour. I haven't slept."

  Ryan yawned. “Who did you talk to?”

  “There were two of them,” said Teddy. “A nice guy named Jack and a gorgeous woman name Maddie."

  “Gorgeous.…" Ryan got up and moved to the bathroom. "Not Detective Trainor? Hang on.” She set the phone down and splashed cold water on her face. “Okay, go ahead.”

  “Yeah, Detective Trainor. She’s all business, but what an amazing body. And that face….” Teddy paused. “Wait a minute. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice?”

  “I didn’t.” Ryan scrunched up her face while she considered Teddy’s theory. She appreciated a beautiful woman as much as the next lesbian, but she hadn’t particularly noticed the detective’s looks. Ryan grasped at the memory of the previous night. Intense dark eyes that telegraphed skepticism and a husky voice that kept calling poor Cora “the victim” and “the body.”

  Which reminded her of the body. “I’m so sorry, Teddy. I know Cora was your friend." She returned to her room and fell back onto the bed.

  “Thanks,” said Teddy. “But it’s a loss for all of us. I just can’t believe it happened — and on campus. It’s a good thing the students aren't around."