Academic Curveball

by James J Cudney

  “I miss that delicious man every day. The things he could do to my body just by winking at me. Did I ever tell you about the time he…”?

  “Stop, Nana D. I don't want to hear about it,” I said while dropping the fork to cover my ears before they bled uncontrollably. “What about Abby?”

  “That's what's wrong with you kids today… always so politically correct and sensitive about making love. Lost your emotions.” Nana D began washing our plates in the corner sink of her quaint and charming kitchen. She'd sewed her curtains, stained her cabinets, and installed her plumbing. There wasn't anything she couldn't do when she put her mind to it.

  “Focus, Nana D. I'm curious what you know about Abby or who might want her dead.”

  Nana D wrinkled her nose and squinted her eyes. “She was the type to piss off the dangerous people in this world by asking too many questions. Someone pushed her down the stairs to shut her up, I'm certain of it.”

  “I don't know how you know these things, but I've come to trust your instincts,” I consented, then grabbed a dish towel and began drying.

  I filled her in on the events at the party before stumbling across Abby Monroe in the stairwell. Nana D planned to start a petition to have the councilman removed from office because of his sweaty hands. She'd try anything to get Marcus Stanton out of office ever since he served her with a summons for improper waste removal at the farm. Nana D might have dumped a bucket filled with manure from her tractor's front-loader over the fence into his backyard last year claiming the machine had malfunctioned. Unfortunately, it was during his family's Labor Day barbecue, and they'd been standing on the other side of the fence when it happened. I'm still unsure how or why their war ever started. “I've got to head downtown to the Wharton County Sheriff's Office to sign some statements. What are your plans today, Nana D? Harassing Councilman Stanton? Prank calling Ms. Paddington again?”

  Nana D stuck her tongue out at me and made childish noises. “Didn't I tell you I started teaching music lessons again? Gotta fetch my old clarinet before she gets here.” Nana D wrapped foil around the pie and placed it on the shelf in the refrigerator. “Keeps me young spending time with the college kids.”

  “Really? No, you hadn't mentioned it. I was thinking about teaching Emma to play the clarinet. She loves music and seems pretty agile with her fingers. Maybe she'll follow in your footsteps.”

  “Well, you never could play worth a darn, could ya, now?” Nana D rushed over and slapped my cheek until it hurt. “Talent might have skipped a few generations, but you sure got your Grandpop's good looks. You probably drive all the girls crazy, too.” Nana D and my Grandpop used to hold concerts at Danby Landing entertaining the visitors and employees each weekend. Grandpop played the piano and guitar while Nana D sang and played the clarinet. She'd given it all up when he passed away telling everyone it was their thing to do together and all good things come to an end eventually.

  “Maybe so,” I replied as the doorbell rang. “Want me to get that?”

  “Yes, please, that would be Bridget. Go introduce yourself while I get the clarinet and make a call about a meeting I have later today,” Nana D replied. At the same time, she winked and smirked.

  “What are you up to now?” I narrowed my eyes and leaned my head in her direction. “More trouble?” I pictured news reporters showing up at my father's door asking why he killed one of his professors, or a fake college student calling my mother at home to tell her he'd fallen in love with her and would do anything to attend Braxton. Nana D played way too many jokes on them in the past. I'm sure they were overdue for something again soon.

  “Go get the door, Kellan. Make yourself useful and quit being a party pooper, love.” Nana D disappeared down the hallway while I walked through the living room and opened the front door.

  Standing on the porch was a girl with an odd expression on her face—a cross between dumbstruck confusion and a pouty, angry elf. Not that I've ever seen a real-life elf, but her ears were pointy, and she had these big, bright eyes that seemed to glow. I was afraid she might change shapes in front of me. “Hello,” I said curtly and cautiously.

  “You're not Seraphina,” questioned the elf. “Am I too early again?”

  I shrugged my shoulders as I didn't know what time she was supposed to be here. She wore striped red and white leggings and an oversized green parka. Granted it was freezing outside, but the outfit truly reminded me of the Elf-on-a-Shelf appearing every Christmas in the Castigliano mansion for my daughter, Emma. I wanted to ask why the elf couldn't use magic to answer her own question, but since I didn't know her, it might sound a tad obnoxious of me. I also wasn't sure if she was a good or a bad elf. I'd enough crazy juju already and didn't need the vengeance of a nasty elf. Given Nana D expected someone for music lessons, it was a fairly good chance this was Bridget. “Not that I know. Come on in.”

  The elf stepped through the entryway waiting for me to say something else. “Umm, so…”

  “Are you here for the Vespa driving lessons?” I asked. Perhaps I'd inherited too much of Nana D's wit. “We're bandaging up the last student, but don't worry… we put the bobcat back in its cage.”

  “If that's humor, I feel bad for you.” The elf removed her coat. “I'm Bridget. Who are you?”

  Bridget was a petite girl who seemed capable of holding her own. Besides her elf outfit, she'd chestnut brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, emerald green eyes, and wore little to no makeup. It dawned on me this might be another romantic setup. Nana D had tried to match me up with a traveling horse groomer over the Christmas break until we learned not only had the woman already been married, but she was wanted in two other states for bigamy.

  “Are you for real or is this part of Nana D's hoax?” I had to know if I was about to be played by my clever grandmother. It might be early enough I could convince Bridget, the elf, to join my team.

  Bridget hung her coat on the rack, pushed past me into the living room, and dropped her backpack on the coffee table. “You're weird. You must be Kellan. Seraphina told me about you last week when I was here for my lesson.”

  So, the elf was smarter than she dressed. “Yes, I guess you must be normal if she's told you about me. How long have you been playing the clarinet?”

  “I'm twenty-one. Started when I was nine. I'm sure you're capable of doing the math.” As she sat on the couch across from me, she pulled out a couple of reeds and several sheets of music. “Are you gonna listen in as well as harass me today, too? Cause I didn't sign up for a super judgy audience.”

  I shook my head. I had places to be and needed to update Derek about what had happened to Abby. With the retirement party over and no more source for season two, maybe I could head back to Los Angeles early. Although the crime buff inside me wanted to do my own investigation into Abby's murder, it was secondary to escaping my parents. “Nope. Just visiting my nana for a little while. I'm leaving as soon as she gets back.”

  “So, I see you've met,” Nana D said holding the clarinet behind us. “Behaving yourself, Kellan?”

  I feigned a look of shock at her words. “Of course, I always do.”

  Nana D looked at Bridget who then responded, “He's been a perfect gentleman. I can see the resemblance between you two. He's got your humor and your nose. Like a little button, I'd say.” Bridget nervously laughed at herself and then reached for her bag.

  “Well, I need to make a few calls, Nana D. I'll check in with you later. Anything with your afternoon meetings that I need to be prepared for?” I questioned with a growing sense of angst and curiosity.

  “Not at all, dear. I'm not up to anything, at least nothing that your mother should worry about.”

  “Or Dad? I've heard he's a bit shaken about the… issue… from last night,” I replied suddenly remembering I was not supposed to be talking about it as per Sheriff Montague.

  “Nothing for him to fret over either. Now skedaddle, please. I've got more important people here to spend my time with.” Nana D sho
ved me out the door before I could say goodbye to Bridget.

  I drove to the sheriff's office and signed my official statement confirming everything I'd seen and told them already. In Wharton County, there was one sheriff and a few detectives to cover all of the towns including Braxton. Local police in each town ensured smaller crimes were addressed and minor ordinances were obeyed while the sheriff's office handled major crimes, in particular murder and grand larceny. The sheriff was out on an interview, but Officer Flatman who'd been on campus the night before was glad to assist. Stepping away from his desk, I saw a notation on a post-it about contact with an Alton Monroe. I wondered who he was given he and Abby shared the same last name. Perhaps the next of kin?

  When I got back to my rental, I texted Eleanor who teased she'd have a plate of amazing food ready for me once I arrived.

  Ten minutes later, I sat at a corner booth at the Pick-Me-Up Diner and devoured my ham and cheese egg white omelet with avocado on the side. I needed something healthy to offset the two pieces of pie I'd already eaten for breakfast. Gone from last night was the relaxed sister wearing a gorgeous dress, and in its place was a serious worker-bee in a pair of stained khakis, Keds, and a faded black polo shirt. Her hair was still pinned up, but she'd hardly any makeup on today. I suppose working in a diner would be a difficult way to maintain a clean and spiffy appearance.

  “Mom and Dad were going to meet with Braxton's public relations director about the accident. Dad told me a bit about Abby earlier. Poor woman, I can't believe she fell down the steps and died.”

  “Did Dad know her well?” I considered revealing what Connor had shared with me about it not being an accident. It was bad enough Nana D figured it out, I couldn't let it slip again.

  “She'd been the chair of the communications department for many years, but they didn't get along well. After a few months working with her, Dad decided she didn't properly represent Braxton. By then, she'd already been granted tenure which meant he'd no easy way to get rid of her,” Eleanor said.

  A waitress cleared the plates trying to impress her boss by making a show of wiping the table, asking how everything tasted, and suggesting different dessert options. I declined knowing I'd already have to run twice as long that afternoon.

  “What's the latest word on the over-achieving end of our family?” I asked Eleanor. She kept in contact with our older siblings much more than I did.

  “Eh, Penelope seems happy, though there are days I wonder if she might not be looking for an excuse to have an early mid-life crisis,” Eleanor replied.

  “She does have her hands full with the kids, I suppose. But she loves it all, and I can't imagine she'd have given up any part of her life.” I secretly knew Penelope was hoping to buy a larger stake in the real estate firm she worked for. “What about your brother?”

  “Hampton's your brother, too, no matter how much you two fight,” she replied. “And with Gabriel refusing to talk to any of us, well…”

  I nodded. “Yep, I should behave more brotherly to the Hampster.” Don't even ask why I call him that as it's been way too long and seems like it's been his name forever. Hampton, two years older than me, is a lawyer in Tulsa and married to an oil heiress who never lets him go anywhere.

  “He's coming to town soon to share news,” Eleanor said. “I bet his wife's pregnant again.”

  I cringed at the thought of four kids under the age of six. “Speaking of Dad, did Mom happen to say where he disappeared to last night? I tried to contact him. He never answered his phone.” It was odd that he didn't even text me back, but I figured he got caught up in controlling the release of any information to the media. “Connor thought…”

  “No, I left shortly after the party ended and stopped here to check on things.” Eleanor looked peculiar when her face flushed a deeper shade of red. Did she know something she wasn't telling me?

  “I see. How about Connor working at Braxton? I was surprised to hear about that.”

  Eleanor shuffled across the booth. “Yeah, big changes, huh? Well, I need to check on a couple of things in the kitchen which means you need to jet. I'll call you later to catch up again. Hugs and kisses.”

  We said our goodbyes which felt a little awkward given how abruptly she hightailed it out of the booth. I texted Maggie to see if she wanted to meet for dinner, but she had plans already. Instead, she suggested I stop by Memorial Library the next day. I confirmed, then bit the bullet to call Derek.

  Surprisingly, he answered on the first ring. “Hey, how's the research going?”

  “Not so well. There's been an incident,” I said feeling my angst grow. I couldn't tell him she'd been murdered, but it'd suddenly crossed my mind that he pawned her off on me for some reason. Could things have gone sour between them, and he was somehow involved in her death?

  “Do tell. You know I'm counting on you to help put this background material to bed, so we can start this project as soon as possible, right?” Derek was always focused on the show, nothing else mattered to him when it came to his success.

  “Abby died last night.” I pondered what kind of a response I'd receive to my news. Would he be nervous? Relieved? Cool and collected?

  Derek laughed hysterically. “That's a great one, Kel-baby. First time I've heard that excuse to get out of a work assignment. Great way to make me laugh, dude.”

  Not one of the reactions I'd considered. “Seriously, um… appears she fell down a flight of steps.”

  “Wait, you're not joking, are you?” he replied.

  “No.” I expelled a bunch of hot air.

  “That's insane. Didn't you talk to her yesterday?” He stopped laughing and listened to me.

  “We were supposed to meet last night, but then I stumbled upon her dead body with a friend of mine on campus.” I updated Derek on Abby working as a professor at the college, what Myriam Castle and Nana D had said about her, and the little I'd learned from visiting the sheriff's office that morning.

  “Do whatever you can to get her research notes. I texted her earlier to give them to you.” Derek didn't seem too phased about her death, but he also thought I'd have access to her personal things. “I guess I won't be getting a reply, huh?” He laughed again but this time with more a sinister tone.

  “And exactly how am I supposed to do that?” Perhaps I should ask him where he was last night.

  “You're the wannabe investigative reporter, Kel-baby. Maybe you can get into her office or tell the cops she left something behind for you about a project you were working on together. I need this to be your top priority. We have to start filming season two as soon as possible, dude.”

  I thought about Derek's demands and my desire to get my own show. I needed to get as far away from him as possible. He was the exact sleaze that made me doubt my career working in Hollywood the last few months. “Listen, Derek, I know this is important. I'll see what I can do. I guess I'll be coming back to Los Angeles sooner than we planned.”

  Derek was unusually silent on the phone before finally responding. “Maybe you should stick around for her funeral. Perhaps you'll meet some of her contacts or find out who else she worked with. Take advantage of the situation. Get the scoop on her death, too. Makes a good side story for the show. Research professor falls to her death while working on Dark Reality. Think of the ratings, Kel-baby!”

  His last comment lit the proverbial fire under me to finish my time with him as quickly as possible. “Yeah, good plan. What hotel are you staying at? I'm thinking about visiting Hawaii next month.” I had no intention of going to the tropical islands anytime soon, but I grew curious if he was really where he said he was. How much did I know about this man outside of work?

  “Royal something or other, can't recall. I'll get it to you when I find the name. Good chatting with you. Gotta run. Get that scoop. Your job depends on it!”

  Before I had a chance to respond, Derek hung up on me. What an idiot! I needed to quit, but I was close to getting my name on the credits for a full season, and this
would be the exact bonus to staking a claim to my own show in the future. It wouldn't be too hard to check if Abby had any notes in her office. I should probably go to the funeral with my family as a good show of faith, right?

  Since Maggie was on my agenda the following day, I'd add in visiting Lorraine. Maybe she'd have information on Abby's funeral arrangements. I also wanted to touch base with Connor to determine what he'd been up to the last ten years. I hadn't realized how much I'd missed my friendships. Ever since Francesca died, I'd pushed away all our friends in Los Angeles and spent my free time with Emma. I hadn't connected with a group of guys since my days in the fraternity. Abby's death reminded me too much of the lost man I'd become when my wife passed away two years ago. Perhaps this was a chance to re-connect with some old buddies while I was in town and an opportunity to solve a crime!

  Chapter 6

  When I finished showering after my five-mile run later that afternoon, I found my father sitting in his office drinking a glass of Macallan scotch and watching the sunset over the Wharton Mountains. It looked like the bottle I'd given him at Christmas was at least half empty which meant for once he'd probably enjoyed one of my holiday gifts. I declined his offer since scotch after a run never settled well in my stomach. I was also starving and needed to eat something before I passed out. “Maybe next time. I'm on my way to the kitchen to heat up some party leftovers for dinner. Are you hungry at all?”

  “I had an early meal with your mother before she went back to the campus. The final deadline is this week for notifying students who've been accepted for the next term. Not that I'll be the one welcoming them to Braxton,” he replied in a somber tone while swallowing a mouthful of liquor. I could hear the melancholy oozing through the burn of the scotch.

  It hadn't occurred to my overworked and distracted brain he'd be sad to retire. If I'd worked tirelessly for forty years, sitting on my rear end doing nothing for a few months would be a welcome change. “That's the problem with this younger generation. Can't put in a full day's work without complaining,” Nana D would likely chastise in return. Perhaps she was right, but she wasn't here, so I could think whatever I'd wanted to at that moment. “Chin up, Dad. You've got a lot to look forward to after the big day. I'm sure the new president will want you to stick around to help settle in, right?”