“I’ll bet Allister picked them up and put them in his pocket, and they fell out when he was killed. That’s probably how they ended up at the crime scene.”
“So Allister picked up my beads so he could return them to me. I guess that was nice of him.”
“I know you didn’t want Allister dating your mom - and I totally get that - but I think he really did think highly of you.”
“Well, at least he cared enough to pick up my beads.”
Connie put a sisterly arm around Paige’s shoulders and walked her to the door. “You should go to the police station in the morning and tell Detective Josh Miller what you told me. He’s the lead detective on the case. His shift starts at 9:00.”
“I will,” Paige said and left the store.
Now that Connie knew that the beads at the murder scene came from Paige’s necklace and not the killer’s Mary Ann was back on the suspect list.
***
On Wednesday morning before heading into the shop, Connie went for a quick paddle to clear her head. As she glided along the coastline, she worked on a game plan for the next couple of days. She was disappointed that the folks from Florida Sands wouldn’t be present the following evening for part two of her class, but she was determined to stay positive. Business was good, especially for the slow summer months, and the police were still following up on leads.
For now, Connie was determined to devote her energies to marketing her store and helping the students she still had - Emma Gertrude, and hopefully Jerry - to complete their projects. She would finish this class strong by giving her remaining students her best effort, and once the police caught the killer, she would move forward and schedule more classes. By the time she loaded her paddleboard onto the dolly to drag it home, she felt like a new woman. She had managed to push all thoughts of killers and murder investigations out of her head. This class would be a practice run. If she could make this one succeed, the sky would be the limit.
That is, unless it crushed her.
Connie and Grace arrived in the store about the same time, and, still energized from her sale the previous day, Connie promptly got to work on the matching bracelet to the necklace and earrings she had completed, while Grace handled the occasional customer.
After lunch, Grace left and Connie spent some time posting on her social media pages and uploading new pictures onto her website, then went back to work on the bracelet. She was so engrossed in her work that, despite the door chime, she didn’t see Abby until she had already entered the shop.
Chapter 20
Since Abby was one of the three remaining suspects, Connie would rather not have been alone with her, but since it was daylight and customers were wandering in and out of the store, even if Abby was the killer, Connie felt fairly safe.
“Abby,” Connie said, standing to greet the young woman. “I’m so glad you came by.” At least she was glad as long as Abby wasn’t the killer. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
Abby held up her necklace. “I still want to finish this, even if our group isn’t coming back tomorrow,” she said.
Connie smiled and gestured to a chair at the table. “Have a seat while I get us some iced tea.”
Abby thanked her, and Connie returned with two glasses, complete with fresh mint.
“I haven’t made much progress on the necklace,” Abby said. “Every time I start to work on it in my dorm room, I get distracted by something, so I thought I’d have a better chance of completing it here.”
Connie showed Abby the piece she was working on. “Wow, I would love to be able to make something like that one day,” she said, admiring the sapphire-blue bracelet-in-progress.
“It just takes practice. If you keep at it, you’ll be there in no time.”
The two worked in silence for a while before taking a break.
Abby seemed much more upbeat than she had the last couple of times Connie saw her. She wondered what brought about the change. “I hope you don’t mind my saying it, Abby, but you seem so much happier than the last time I saw you.”
Abby leaned back in her chair and smiled. “Actually, I am. I had a long talk with Dr. Spenser this morning and came clean about the whole plagiarism thing.”
“Wow, you did? What happened?”
“I told her everything and showed her the paper that Dr. McCue had marked up. She believed me that it was just a careless mistake, and she said she could tell that I didn’t do it on purpose. She was really cool about it. She said that Dr. McCue could be a bit harsh with those things and just told me to rewrite the paper and all would be forgotten.” Abby’s shoulders relaxed, as if the burden was being lifted anew by telling Connie the story. “Even though I knew it was an honest mistake, I just didn’t feel right about not telling her the truth. It was as if I was profiting from Dr. McCue’s death, and I didn’t want that on my conscience for the rest of my life.”
It seemed Abby really was a good person. After learning about the health challenges that she had overcome as a teenager, Connie would have hated to see her throw it all away. “I’m proud of you, Abby. That took a lot of courage. If Dr. Spenser had turned you in, it could have cost you your childhood dream.”
Upon hearing Abby’s news, Connie happily crossed her off her list of suspects. Abby’s motive for killing Allister was the fact that he could ruin her future career by putting a blemish on her record. If Abby had indeed killed Allister to protect her dream, there was no way she would have confessed her plagiarism to Isabel. This left her without a motive.
Abby smiled appreciatively. “I wouldn’t want my future success to be based on a lie. Now if only the police could find Dr. McCue’s killer, we could put this whole nightmare behind us once and for all. Do you know if they have made any progress?” Abby asked.
“I talked to the detectives yesterday. They are still working on it.”
“I keep going over everything in my mind, trying to think of anything that could shed light on who might have wanted to kill Dr. McCue, both at your class and in the English Department,” Abby said.
“Did you come up with anything?”
“Not really. I was working when the police came to search his office, but they obviously didn’t find anything, or they would have arrested someone by now.”
“Sounds logical,” Connie said. “Has the English Department started a search yet to replace him?”
“They posted the job opening this week. Dr. Spenser and a couple of other professors will be taking over his classes in the fall if they don’t find anyone by then. But hopefully they will, so things can return to normal as quickly as possible.”
Connie thought for a moment. “Does that mean that nobody has moved into his office yet?”
“Not yet,” Abby said. “Dr. McCue’s sister is coming Friday to collect his personal belongings. I assume it will get reassigned to his successor when he or she is hired.”
“So, the office is exactly the way Allister left it?” Connie asked.
Abby shrugged. “I guess.”
“What I wouldn’t give to take a look inside. Who knows, maybe there’s a clue in there.”
Abby narrowed her eyes in contemplation.
“You have the strangest expression on your face,” Connie said. “What are you thinking?”
“It’s just, if you really wanted to take a look, I have a key. The building is always open, because there are study rooms scattered throughout. I have a key to the English Department suite, and inside the student worker’s desk there is a master key that would open Dr. McCue’s office.”
“Don’t the campus police patrol the area?”
“If anyone sees us, I could just say I forgot something in my desk. Nobody would question my being there.”
Connie was excited at the prospect of getting into Allister’s office. “Just Jewelry closes at 9:00. Can we go then?”
“I don’t see why not.”
“Perfect.”
Both women continued working on their jewelry pieces until 9:
00, then they hopped into Abby’s blue Toyota and headed over to campus. They parked in a nearby lot and took the stairs up to the third floor of Alumni Hall. The student workers’ desk was just around the corner from Allister’s office.
Abby quickly found the key in the desk drawer and handed it to Connie. “You go ahead. I’ll keep watch in case anybody wanders in.”
Connie entered Allister’s office and systematically examined everything. It was a small office with a desk, two burgundy armchairs facing the desk, which Connie guessed were for meetings with students, and a small wall of bookshelves. She perused the books, which were mostly literary classics and New York Times bestsellers, as well as books on the craft of writing. So far, there didn’t appear to be anything unusual for an English professor’s office.
Next, Connie moved on to the desk. The desktop only contained a lamp and some plastic organization trays, so Connie guessed that Allister’s work projects had been reassigned to another professor.
She opened the small, thin drawer that ran across the top of the desk. Nothing but office supplies. Then she turned her attention to the remaining two drawers, located on the righthand side of the desk. Nothing out of the ordinary in the top drawer – only folders containing articles that Allister had written.
The bottom drawer was a bit of a struggle to get into, but after a little tugging, Connie was finally able to yank it open. To her disappointment, there was nothing but a drawer full of paperback novels. Her late-night trek over to Florida Sands turned out to be a waste of time. She was about to push the drawer shut when she noticed the title of one of the books on the top of the pile: A Professor’s Fantasy.
Why did that sound familiar? She searched her memory, and just as she was about to give up, Connie remembered that it was the book that Zach and Josh were joking about at her Fourth of July get-together. She perused the books that filled the deep drawer. It seemed Allister did have a penchant for trashy novels.
Connie was debating whether she should tell Abby. It probably had nothing to do with the case, and she didn’t want to ruin Abby’s image of Allister as a strait-laced, learned professor who only read the highest quality literature.
But before she could make up her mind, Abby was standing in the doorway.
“What’s taking so long? Did you find anything?”
Connie hesitantly held up the book. “Apparently, despite your professor’s public admonition of trashy novels, he had a secret passion for them.”
Abby’s eyes grew wide as she practically lept over to Connie and grabbed the book.
The two women seated themselves in the armchairs, and Connie watched Abby as she perused the book.
When Abby regained her ability to speak, she said, “This is crazy! I can’t believe Dr. McCue would have a pile of these books in his desk.”
“Maybe there’s a logical explanation,” Connie said.
“Like what?”
Connie shrugged and laughed. “I have no idea.”
Connie retrieved a few more books from Allister’s desk so they could take a broader look at his reading preferences. “These are all written by the same author: Bella Anne Spense.”
Connie flipped through each of the books to see if there were any more clues as to why Allister would be harboring these unlikely novels. Besides having the same author, each book took place in a university setting. A small university in south Florida.
As Connie looked through the final book, a photocopy of a handwritten note to the author, which had been folded and stuffed between the pages, fell onto her lap. She scanned its content, then read the most relevant portion to Abby.
This is your final chance. The next time you hear from me, it will be through my attorney. I expect to receive half of your royalties every year. Since you obviously used me as the inspiration for your main character in this series, I’m only asking for what is due me.
The letter was followed by an estimate, outlining exactly what that meant annually.
“This is definitely Dr. McCue’s handwriting,” Abby said. “He’s written enough comments on my papers over the years for me to recognize it.”
“Wow,” Connie said. “Allister was blackmailing someone for a small fortune.”
Abby glanced down at a book she had placed on her lap. “If Allister really was the inspiration for the main character in these books, he was more of a playboy than I realized. No wonder Paige didn’t want him anywhere near her mother.”
“We should get out of here,” Connie said. “We’ve been in here for a while.”
“Let’s put these books back in Dr. McCue’s desk and get out of this office,” Abby said. “We can download an electronic copy of the books from an online retailer and study them more carefully at my desk.”
Connie stuffed Allister’s blackmail letter into her pocket, while Abby locked up the office and returned the key to the student workers’ desk.
Then Abby sat at the desk and pulled her e-reader from her backpack, while Connie dragged over a chair. It took Abby less than a minute to download a copy of one of the books they had seen in Allister’s drawer. “Judging from the price of the book, it looks like Bella Anne Spense is an indie author.” Then, after glancing at the product description page, she added, “And judging from the book’s ranking, she does quite well.”
Abby opened the book on her e-reader.
“Bella Anne Spense,” Connie said. “Why does that name sound familiar?”
Abby moved through the copyright and dedication pages of the book, taking the time to scan each page. When she came to the dedication, she read it aloud to Connie: “To all the underpaid professors. This one’s for you.”
Connie doubted that Bella Anne Spense would have written that if she knew she would be blackmailed by one of those underpaid professors.
Connie stood up while Abby was intently examining the book, and paced the floor next to Abby’s desk, thinking aloud. “So, Allister didn’t have copies of those novels, because he enjoyed reading them. He believed he was the inspiration for the main character.”
“Sounds that way,” Abby said, paying more attention to the book on her e-reader than to Connie.
Connie continued to pace. She found it easier to think when her body was in motion. She walked past Abby, continued beyond Allister’s office, and turned around at Isabel’s door, then repeated the same path a few times before pausing in front of Abby’s desk. Connie leaned against the desk with her back to Abby. She scanned the room until her eyes settled on the nameplate fastened to the wall next to Isabel’s door.
She stared at it for a moment, then she pressed her palm against her forehead. “Oh my goodness. Could it be?”
Abby looked up from the book. “What are you talking about?”
Connie pointed at the nameplate on Isabel’s door. “Isabel Spenser. Bella Anne Spense. The names are eerily similar. What if Bella Anne Spense is a pen name for Isabel Spenser? What if they are the same person?”
Abby grew pale. “Dr. Spenser’s middle name is Anne.”
Connie jumped up from the desk, as if it burnt her. “I think we just solved the mystery. Allister wasn’t interested in trashy novels. He figured out that his boss, the chair of his beloved English Department, was secretly an indie author of what he deemed to be ‘trashy novels.’ When he read the books, he discovered that the main character in her series was modeled after him and his escapades around the university. Instead of outing her and humiliating himself, Allister tried to blackmail Isabel for half her royalties.”
As soon as the words came out of Connie’s mouth, the door to the office suite slammed shut, and Isabel came into view. She leaned against the wall next to Abby’s desk, staring at the women with a menacing smirk on her face.
Chapter 21
Connie’s mouth went dry as she locked gazes with Isabel.
Judging from the styrofoam takeout container she was holding, Isabel hadn’t left her office for the night, as Abby thought. She just went to get dinner.
&n
bsp; There was no point in trying to save face. They were caught red-handed.
Connie pulled the blackmail letter from her pocket and waved it at Isabel. “So, Allister was blackmailing you. He found out that you were making a small fortune writing novels based on his romantic escapades, and he wanted a piece of the action.”
Isabel shook her head in disgust at the mention of Allister’s name. “He was an arrogant, greedy man who got what he deserved. He insisted on receiving half my profits, but there was no way he was getting his hands on any of my money. I worked hard to build my writing business over the years. I warned him several times to back off or it wouldn’t end well for him.”
That explained how Isabel afforded her movie-star lifestyle – the boat, the condo in Cabo, the designer clothes. She was receiving a hefty royalty check from her books to supplement her professor’s income.
“So, you stole my pliers, and lured him to the pier after class to kill him?”
“During your class, Allister told me he wanted to talk to me later that evening. I told him to meet me under the pier, where we could talk in private. I just brought the pliers along as an insurance policy. I truly hoped that I wouldn’t have to use them, but, as usual, Allister was uncooperative. I did my best to reason with him, but he was a stubborn fool. So, in the end, he died as he lived: an arrogant jerk.”
A sinister smile crept its way onto Isabel’s lips. “I guess you could call it poetic justice for the poetry professor.”
Sapphire Beach Cozy Mystery Collection Page 47