Academic Curveball

by James J Cudney

  Abby's place was the second to last one on the left, a charming brick-fronted home with green shutters and a white door. As I neared the entrance, a four-door, blue sedan crept down the driveway. I dropped to the ground to make it look like I'd been tying my boot laces. The driver rolled down his window and reached into the mailbox, rifled through a few envelopes and a magazine, then rolled the window back up and took off down the street the opposite way I'd come. He'd left the mail in the box. Had he been in the house?

  I placed him in his mid-to-late forties. He was beginning to bald and to toy with growing some facial hair. It was mostly grown in, a mixture of brown and gray surrounding his mouth and chin. Perhaps the goatee was making a comeback, or maybe he was hoping to lead the pack. Brother? Roommate? Could this be the husband, Alton? I hadn't seen a picture of Abby's spouse, but at least I'd gotten a good visual while this man was checking the mail.

  I didn't know what I expected to learn by scoping out where Abby lived. If the Dark Reality notes weren't at her office, it was possible they'd be at her home. It wasn't like I'm the kind of guy who'd break into the place to find them. Sheriff Montague would undoubtedly haul me to jail just for her laughs and revenge. When I was certain the blue sedan turned the corner, I stood and casually brushed off my pants. I was about to check for anything of interest in the backyard when a voice startled me.

  “May I help you?” asked a heavyset woman in a raspy voice wearing a giant peach-colored house dress. It was a little cold to be outside without a coat, but more power to her for being braver than I.

  I needed an excuse to convince her I wasn't up to any trouble. My eyes darted to the piece of mail in her hand, and I attempted to read the name. Even with my glasses, I could only decipher a few letters. “You must be Mrs. Ackerman, the neighbor my friend Abby talks about all the time.”

  She pulled back slightly confused, then smiled. “Abby talks about me? How sweet of her! It's Mrs. Ackerton, handsome. And who might you be?” She pursed her lips and lifted her chest.

  Wow! I was grateful for my quick thinking and stroke of luck. “Oh, I'm Justin. We work together at the college. I was just stopping by to check the mail for her while she's away.”

  Mrs. Ackerton shook her head and made a tsk-tsk sound with her tongue. “That explains why I haven't seen her lately. I was starting to worry about her especially when I saw that police car here yesterday. There wasn't a robbery, was there?” Mrs. Ackerton closed the lid on her mailbox and adjusted one of the curlers in her hair. “Sorry, I'm not all fancied up for you at the moment.”

  “No robberies I've been told about.” It seemed she wasn't aware Abby had passed away over the weekend, but she was awake enough to flirt with me. “I saw a car drive away while I was fixing my laces and thought maybe I'd missed her or her husband,” I replied ignoring the broccoli in her teeth.

  “No, her husband don't live here no more. Noticed the car a few times, but I'm not sure I've ever gotten a good look at the person to say that's who's been sleeping here. If I see Abby, I'll mention you stopped by, Justin.” She reached her hand out and grabbed my bicep. “I love a strong man.”

  “Do you think it was a friend of Abby's?” I asked fishing for information. “She didn't tell me anyone else would be stopping by while she was away. I kinda thought I was the only…”

  “Oh, I don't know if it was anything romantic. Don't reckon I'll ever understand relationships these days. I suppose playing the field is part of the game, eh? I hope she wasn't stepping out on you, Justin.” She elbowed me a few times before turning around to head back up her walkway.

  Did she think I'd be dating someone like Abby? I thought about responding, but this woman knew nothing about me, and it would be better left that way. We said our goodbyes, and I began my excursion back to campus to meet with Lorraine. Along the path, I thought about whether Abby's death was a lover's quarrel gone wrong. Maybe her husband found out she was having an affair, or her boyfriend got angry she wouldn't leave her husband, and he killed her. That's when I realized I still didn't know how she'd died other than falling down a flight of stairs. Connor told me about the gash on her head, but it couldn't have been from hitting the steps. There was some other object that had knocked her out first. Maybe I could convince the sheriff to tell me what they'd discovered onsite.

  Before I knew it, I found myself back on South Campus at Diamond Hall and about to ascend the front entrance. My mother was exiting the building and waved at me.

  “Hey, Mom. Fancy seeing you here. Were you visiting Dad?” I asked noting how cute it was they'd still spend part of their day together on campus. She'd miss him when he retired.

  “I thought Lorraine could tell me where he was so I could surprise him for lunch, but apparently Sheriff Montague asked him to head back to the precinct again. They seem to have a lot of questions about his relationship with Abby Monroe.”

  “Did you ever find out where he went at the end of the retirement party?” I hoped maybe she could fill in the information my father had conveniently left out.

  My mother paused before offering an awkward, non-committal answer. “You know your father, he doesn't think to tell me where he is. I'm worried about him lately. Something's not quite settled.”

  “What do you mean? Something to do with his retirement?” I thought about the phone call, too.

  “Well, not exactly,” she replied looking visibly drained and in need of a break. “He and Abby didn't exactly have the best of relations. Your father tried unsuccessfully to remove her as department chair, and she knew it. I'm afraid that Sheriff Montague thinks your father has something to do with whatever happened to the woman. It occurred near his office, you know.” After glancing upward to the building's side windows, she covered her mouth with her hand as if she'd been shocked to say something out loud about the incident.

  “Dad's certainly hard to take sometimes, but he'd never hurt someone physically. He's more a master of verbal insults if anything.” I thought about his behavior the last few days, and she was right. He'd become more strange, pensive, and closed-off despite my first chat with him. “Did he say Sheriff Montague accused him of something, or are you reading between the lines?”

  “Maybe you need to talk to him, Kellan. I can't seem to make sense of it,” my mother replied tilting her head to the side. I could see her eyes starting to well.

  “Oh, don't cry, Mom. Everything will be okay.” I pulled her in for a hug and patted her back. It was a rare moment to see my mother collapse.

  “You were supposed to meet Abby, right? You could do a little investigation on your own. See what she'd been doing recently or maybe find someone else that detective could harass.”

  “April Montague is not a detective, Mom. She's the Wharton County Sheriff. I'm pretty sure she knows how to do her job. Asking Dad more questions could simply be to help find other suspects,” I said uncertain whether I believed my own words. Sheriff Montague had it out for my family in the past.

  “Please, Kellan. I don't ask much of you. I know I keep begging you to come back home, but the least you could do while you're here is poke around a bit, right? Isn't that what you do for a living? Research? Figure out what happened in a crime and then write a show all about it?”

  While it was a cursory explanation of my job, she did have a point. I had my reasons for needing to find out more about Abby Monroe. “Sure, Mom. I'll see what I can learn by asking some questions… starting with Lorraine. That's who I'm on my way to see. Was she particularly busy?”

  My mother nodded and shivered from the wind. “Yes, a little frazzled. I got the impression she knew something but wasn't comfortable telling me just now. I'm sure you can get her to talk. Lorraine always had a soft spot for you.”

  “Is there anything you remember about the night of the party that might help figure out who Abby was meeting at Diamond Hall?” She'd delayed chatting with me until nine, I presumed to give her time for her mysterious eight thirty meeting about a student's grades.<
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  “I don't know if it has anything to do with Abby's death, but I did see someone walking around the side of the building. I had stepped outside to find your father when I noticed Coach Oliver.”

  It was the second time I'd heard that name but couldn't recall why. “Who's Coach Oliver?”

  “Our athletic director. He oversees the school's sports teams, practice fields, venues, and Grey Sports Complex, our main athletic facility. He's a nice guy, but if you ask me, that man seems a little too obsessed with winning all the games rather than keeping the students focused on their studies.”

  Which was typical, in my humble opinion. His job was to ensure Braxton had the best players, scored the most points, and won all the championships. “What time did you see him?”

  My mother tapped her foot against the concrete steps. I could see the wheels turning inside her head as she thought about the night's events. “About eight thirty. I waved to him, but he was on his phone. He seemed distracted. I'm certain he planned to stop by the party, but he never showed up.”

  “Point out exactly where you saw him,” I instructed her. She noted the far corner near the oak tree and bench on the narrow path toward a small student dormitory. Coach Oliver had been close to the back entrance of Diamond Hall where the lighting was somewhat dim.

  “Surely, you don't think he had anything to do with Abby's death, do you?” A grim expression overtook my mother's face while she moaned in overstated fashion.

  “I don't know what to think. All I know is the woman I was supposed to meet with is dead. You're worried the sheriff thinks Dad is involved. And now you tell me you saw someone near where Abby died under mysterious circumstances. Did you tell Sheriff Montague?”

  A blank and disconnected look told me she hadn't. “No, I didn't think to tell the officer who questioned me. Should I call her?”

  I shook my head. There didn't seem to be any reason to share the news. I'd find a way to see if it was anything important before putting another family member in front of the persistent sheriff. Upon recovering from her worries, my mother walked toward the cable car to return to North Campus.

  Exactly what I needed, another reason to put myself in the line of fire with the sheriff. I grew curious whether coach Oliver had something to do with the blog post or the prior conversation I'd overheard in my father's study.

  I climbed the steps and entered Diamond Hall. A string of yellow plastic tape blocked the entrance to the second-floor staircase. A posted sign indicated all classes were moved to Memorial Library for the week. Lorraine called to me from the other side of the hallway. “Kellan, I'm over here.”

  Lorraine explained Sheriff Montague had quarantined the second and third floors for the remainder of the week. Although they'd removed Abby's body and the cleaning crew had finished sanitizing the stairwell earlier in the morning, the sheriff didn't want anyone in the building's top two floors while they searched for potential evidence. No students were allowed except a few workers who helped Lorraine with the daily administration in the communications department.

  “So, there's no news, yet?” I inquired.

  Lorraine leaned in whispered, “Sheriff Montague is upstairs now going through Abby's office. They're not telling me anything. It's awful.”

  I guess I wouldn't be offered the chance to see Abby's belongings. I didn't expect the sheriff to take me up on my proposal despite it making things much easier. “What's being said to students?”

  Lorraine noted Braxton's official position was still full cooperation with local law enforcement to understand how Abby Monroe tragically fell to her death the prior Saturday. To expedite the investigation, the building was off-limits to students until the following weekend.

  Lorraine complained how these changes made her job even more difficult. Apparently, the real reason my father's assistant was given office space on the second floor of Diamond Hall was that Siobhan, the communications department's office manager, had gone on maternity leave earlier that year. Rather than fill the vacancy for the three months Siobhan would be away, Lorraine was asked to support my father and the professors since she'd temporarily be working in Diamond Hall. Knowing my father's impending retirement meant less work, Lorraine had agreed to handle the additional responsibilities and work from Siobhan's desk.

  “I'm sorry you got stuck with all that. Holding up okay with the sheriff?” I asked.

  “I've never found a dead body before. I'm so glad you were there to help me, Kellan. I haven't been able to sleep much.” Her hands clasped together while rubbing her palms with nervous fingers.

  “Lorraine, someone mentioned overhearing a conversation you had recently with Abby. Something about you possibly making a small threat against her. I'm not entirely sure what that meant, but I wanted to ask you directly,” I said casually.

  Lorraine sighed loudly. “Foolish of me, really. It was nothing. Honestly, the student worker simply misunderstood what I'd said.”

  “What do you mean?” I had to extract the explanation from her.

  “I guess you'll find out anyway. It wasn't common knowledge, but I knew Abby Monroe outside of Braxton. We were disagreeing about something… personal. It had nothing to do with her death. I could never hurt anyone.” She glanced to the side and fiddled with a few papers.

  “Does Sheriff Montague think you did something to Abby?” I inquired. My mother seemed to be under the impression my father was a suspect. Could Lorraine be one, too? “How did you know Abby?”

  “My brother, Alton, had served her with divorce papers, but she wouldn't sign them for an entire year. Abby was a vindictive woman.”

  Lorraine filled me in on their history. Abby and Alton had been married for five years when he'd gotten fed up with her selfish attitude. He tried to mend the relationship, and even Lorraine had talked to Abby about the issues. In the end, Alton determined it was best to split up. The argument Lorraine had with Abby the prior week was about the divorce. Abby had threatened to ask for a larger amount of alimony if Alton wouldn't give her the rights to an upcoming book they'd planned to co-author.

  “Someone overheard me saying 'it'll be over your dead body that I let you take anything else away from Alton.' But I didn't mean it literally, Kellan. You've got to help me figure out what happened to Abby.” Her hollow cheeks flushed, and she slammed her head against the desk.

  There was something in the tone of Lorraine's voice, the imminent fear over what would happen if the cops couldn't find Abby's real killer. She might always be suspected of the crime. As far as I knew, she had no children or husband of her own. Someone needed to protect her from any accusations cast in her direction. “I don't know the specific time Abby was killed, but surely Sheriff Montague can understand you only slipped away from the party for a few minutes to stop by the office.”

  “From what the sheriff said, Abby was killed between a quarter after eight and a quarter to nine. She'd only been dead a short time when I'd first found her body. I can't find anyone who saw me at the party after eight o'clock.”

  “It'll be harder to prove you didn't do it, that's true. Do you know what they're hunting for upstairs?” The murder weapon had to be part of the search. I really wanted to know what it was.

  “I heard one of the officers saying they'd swept the whole place but couldn't find anything. I still don't understand what they're looking for. Wasn't she pushed down the stairs?”

  Lorraine wasn't aware the gash on the back of Abby's head came from a brutal blow. Either she was playing dumb or genuinely didn't know Abby had been hit before she fell. I didn't think it was my responsibility to tell her, so I changed topics. “Is your brother holding up well enough?”

  “Alton's my half-brother, we only share a mother. That's why we have different last names. I haven't been able to get in touch with him. He left last week for a research trip and seems to be somewhere so remote there's no cell connection,” Lorraine replied dabbing her swollen eyes with a tissue. “I'm not sure he even knows Abby is dead.�
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  If Alton was truly away, then he couldn't be responsible for Abby's death. I'm sure the sheriff would check his alibi to be certain. The guy near Abby's house popped back into my head. “Was Abby seeing anyone new recently? If she was divorcing Alton, maybe there was a new man in the picture.”

  Lorraine shook her head. “I didn't keep tabs on her love life. Alton didn't care either, he just wanted out. They tried maintaining a friendship, but she was too egotistical.”

  I told Lorraine to think positively and cooperate as much as possible with the sheriff during the investigation. The truth had to come out at some point, and Sheriff Montague would realize Lorraine had nothing to do with Abby's death. I couldn't picture her as the killer. Unfortunately, that meant the sheriff might still suspect my father.

  I checked the time and realized I still hadn't visited Maggie nor eaten lunch. After stopping at the campus cafeteria, I would head to Memorial Library. I needed to learn what Maggie knew about the athletic director theorizing she could figure out a way to introduce me to Coach Oliver.

  Chapter 8

  I caught the cable car back to North Campus. Students shared pics and tweets on their phone arguing about which pitcher should start that Saturday. I'd been a baseball freak for years but living in Los Angeles was not easy for a Phillies fan. Eventually, I'd given up quarreling over baseball and instead picked up football as my sport of choice. As the cable car pulled in, a light bulb went off in my head about how I could introduce myself to Coach Oliver without it looking too odd.