“Well, I guess I should go,” I replied leaning in to give her a huge hug. “I love you, Eleanor, and when you want to talk, I'll drop everything for you.” I left her office and headed back to the Jeep. Before I'd even started the engine, she'd texted me.
Eleanor: I'm sorry. Let's get dinner Saturday, and we'll talk.
I knew something was up, and now I needed to be patient until she revealed what caused her so much grief. I drove toward campus to check on access to Abby's office in Diamond Hall. When I arrived, I could see things were no longer cordoned off, yet the sign indicating classes were being held elsewhere still stood. I climbed the stairs assuming someone might try to stop me but made it all the way to the second floor without any interruption. I called out on my way to the office. “Hello, anyone there?” Was Sheriff Montague inside? I wasn't prepared for a battle of well-timed quips and her brutal one-liners.
Someone in his mid-forties with curly blond hair and a recent sunburn stood behind the desk when I arrived. He was dressed casually and didn't appear to be a member of the Braxton police force. “Good afternoon. May I help you?” he said.
“I'm Kellan Ayrwick and might be taking over Professor Monroe's classes. I thought I'd drop by to see if…” I really should have been better prepared. I didn't think I could waltz into the office going through drawers without questions being asked. Worrying about the sheriff really had me off my game.
“Oh, Kellan. I'm supposed to call you this afternoon. It's good to meet you. I'm Alton Monroe,” he responded while gesturing at me to join him in the room. “Sheriff Montague mentioned you needed to take a quick look for some of Abby's files.”
So, this was the soon-to-be ex-husband and Lorraine's half-brother. I could now see a small resemblance between Lorraine and Alton in their pinned-back ears, hair color, and narrow jawlines. He didn't look dangerous. I suppose I had nothing to worry about being alone with him in Abby's office. I was grateful I could finally poke around Abby's things despite Sheriff Montague not even taking a moment to notify me herself. I shook his hand and leaned against the doorframe. I didn't want to sit and give him the upper hand of being on the owner's side of the desk. “Thanks. I appreciate it. I believe you just got in from out of town, somewhere visiting…” I paused hoping he'd fill in the blank.
“A remote village near the border between Alaska and Russia. I go on occasional nature treks for an online magazine to write about animals about to go extinct.” He went on about some bird whose population had been slowly declining in the last decade giving me a chance to look around the office.
Abby had one of the bigger spaces on the floor, probably because she was the department chair. Two small wooden chairs sat across from a large mahogany desk. I was now near one of them, and what I'd assumed was Alton Monroe's briefcase occupied the other one. The walls were lined with hundreds of books on shelves. On the one open wall space was Abby's diplomas confirming the schools I'd seen in her profile during my research. A few scattered papers cluttered the desk, the garbage pail had recently been emptied, and what looked like a grade book sat on the corner table near a reading lamp. I'm sure Striker would love to get his hands on that. I was curious if he'd found out his grade and would be cleared to play in Saturday's game. The room was fairly organized but devoid of any real personality other than tons of books. Abby liked a rather plain workspace.
It suddenly dawned on me Alton had stopped talking. I hoped he hadn't asked me a question as I'd lost interest in his story and focused on scanning the room. It wasn't that I didn't care about the plight of the short-tailed albatross, but I'd more important things to concentrate on at that moment. “Very interesting, sounds like a good trip. I, um, heard you didn't have any wireless access for a while. It must have been a shock to hear the news about your wife.”
“Soon-to-be ex-wife,” he replied with an indication of self-satisfaction. “Although I suppose that's not important anymore. Abby and I were trying to salvage a friendship, but I'm afraid things went south many months ago between us.”
“I wasn't aware. So sorry to hear,” I fibbed again. I wasn't in the habit of lying, but if it might help me get different information out of a potential source, I could comfortably blur the lines. For the most part, I'm an honest and direct guy. Ask Eleanor. “The funeral will be held early next week. I expect I'll see you there?”
“Abby had no other family I'm aware of. I feel obligated to attend, perhaps a final goodbye.”
“I imagine so. That's good of you.” I paused hoping he'd volunteer more information. In past interviews, it always seemed people of his nature were uncomfortable with silence, suddenly sharing things they might not normally say until the quiet pushed them over the edge.
“Sheriff Montague mentioned you wanted to look for some papers you'd been working on with Abby. I've been here for twenty minutes doing the same thing. She was planning to sign over a few rights, but I guess now her death may change the divorce, huh?” It was said a little too matter-of-fact for my taste, but if he'd truly been through countless battles with her, he may want everything closed quickly. He noted that he'd found the grade book trapped between the desk and the wall. I assumed it'd either fallen there accidentally or been knocked down during a struggle at the eight thirty meeting.
“Have you had a chance to figure out what happens to all her assets now? Did she leave a will?” I wasn't sure he'd answer, but there weren't any reasons not to ask the question.
“Not that I'm aware of. I changed mine a year ago when we finally separated. As I said, she had no other family. I suppose that means it all comes to me, that is, if she even had anything to worry about.” Alton paused for a few seconds to lift the papers on her desk. “There's also a few course materials,” he said while pointing at the far table. “Your father mentioned you may need those.”
Had my father already been telling people that I was taking over Abby's classes even though I hadn't given him a decision? I suppose my confused look must have been a clue for Alton.
“He and I met briefly a few minutes ago. I had to get the key from his assistant, and he wanted to express his condolences. He mentioned you might stop by at some point looking for the coursework.”
A voice coming up the stairs startled both of us. When I turned around, Lorraine walked through the hallway toward me. “Kellan, it's wonderful to see you. Did my brother leave already?”
“No, he's right inside,” I said stepping in a few feet further to allow Lorraine access.
I quickly caught a look of embarrassed shock on Alton's face when he realized I'd known about his connection to Lorraine. I grew curious how solid his alibi was and made a mental note of a few ways to follow up on it. He had several valuable things to gain by Abby's untimely death.
“Are you about ready to head out?” she asked her brother, then turned to me. “Alton and I have a few things to talk about, Kellan. I'm thinking about getting a lawyer as that sheriff keeps coming back with more questions about the night of the accident.” She nibbled on her lip in frustration.
“I'm sure she's covering all her bases. I'm looking into a few angles myself. I gave the sheriff some useful information earlier about Abby's connection to someone else on campus.”
Lorraine attempted to smile. “Oh, that's good news. I hope they can figure this out quickly. It's draining your father. Poor Alton can't move forward on her estate. I'd like to be out of the line of fire.” She shivered and wrapped her arms around her chest. “We should get going, Alton.”
After Alton and Lorraine trotted off, I searched Abby's office. The book on her corner table was indeed her current grade keeper, but subjecting myself to Dr. Castle's presence to decipher it didn't offer any comfort or warm, fuzzy feelings. Out damn spot, dearest Lady Macbeth.
All I found of potential interest in the drawer was an oddly shaped key, the unsigned contract between Derek and Abby, and finally, the folders with Dark Reality's research notes. Derek would finally get what he was looking for. I packed them in
an empty box I found on the floor in the corner. I walked to the bookshelves on the opposite wall and scanned the titles. For the most part, it was all theater, media, and academic books. Abby was definitely a fan of reality television shows and the paranormal.
When a large book with a red cover and no title or author captured my interest, I pulled it off the shelf. I noticed it was partially hollow yet had something hidden inside. Given the sheer volume of books, checking everything on the shelves was likely not part of Sheriff Montague's sweep. Was Sheriff Montague not as skilled as Braxton needed her to be? I enjoyed thinking about how to best use the mistake against her in the future. Perhaps her failure might be my win… meaning I could finally put that sheriff in checkmate!
A locked, leather-bound journal hid beneath the fake red book cover. I grabbed the key I'd found in the drawer and matched it up. The lock opened, and I suddenly had access to Abby Monroe's personal thoughts. Could I invade her privacy? I permitted myself to quickly scan the pages for any current entries. When I found a few, I dropped the journal in the storage box deciding to ponder how comfortable I'd feel crossing such a line. I added her grade book and several printed copies of her current class syllabi to the box, too. I had some reading to do that evening. Perhaps I'd learn a little more about Abby's secret or not-so-secret life.
Prior to heading home to do some analysis, I connected my phone to the hands-free device in the Jeep and dialed Nana D. She picked up after the second ring.
“Where've you been the last few days? I thought you'd have come by for some more pie or to talk about Bridget Colton,” she stated tersely.
So, the elf had a last name. Nana bringing her up again definitely made me concerned this was a setup. “I ran into your bestie this morning, Nana D. Ms. Paddington had some interesting information to share with me. I think it's time you and I had a little afternoon tea, don't you?” I'm sure she could hear the sarcasm dripping from my words, but then again, she'd ignore it even if she had.
“Pish. That woman speaks nonsense. She's worse than her brother, and after what he did to me, I have no time for those Paddingtons anymore. Troublemakers, I'm telling you,” she chided me. “I can't do tea today… maybe tomorrow? Why don't you come over around three? I should be home from the farmer's market and ready to hear some gossip.”
“No, Nana D. I don't have any gossip. It's your turn to share,” I said in a stern voice. I had to be pushy with her otherwise she'd cross the line every time.
“What's that? Sorry, the connection is fuzzy,” she replied. I distinctly heard her making static sounds. I knew it was her because she stopped to hack up what sounded like a furball in the middle of it.
“Fine. I'll come by tomorrow.” I played along with her charade, then asked if she knew anything about Marcus Stanton's role on the Board of Trustees. “I need to understand if he knows who made the anonymous donations to Braxton and who authorized all the new spending in the athletics department. What might you know about him?”
“I'm meeting with Councilman Stanton tomorrow. I'll see what I can find out. We've got a few things to settle, and that man's gonna listen to me this time if it's the last thing I do.” She harrumphed in the background before drinking a swig of something that caused her to shout “That did the trick!”
I shook my head and laughed while turning up the heat in the Jeep. She always could make me smile. “What does he need to listen to you about?”
“Stanton's using Wharton County funds in all the wrong places. I intend to prove he's clueless.”
I was surprised at how up-to-speed Nana D was on things going on with the county's fiduciary decisions. Then again, she always was pretty sharp when it came to little details. Maybe she could help figure out what's going on with Abby's murder.
“I wonder if Stanton has any kids at Braxton,” I asked suddenly remembering they would probably be about that age. “I didn't know he was on the Board of Trustees until Dad told me.”
“Yep, that star pitcher, Craig Magee. You've probably heard of Striker. Can't wait to see the game on Saturday. This town needs a boost.”
“Wait, what did you say about Striker? They have different last names.” I was confused.
“Striker is his stepson. He married Striker's mother years ago when the kid was young. She passed away from cancer around the same time Francesca died. Good woman, too.”
Hmmm, maybe I should attend the game to figure out all the players in this puzzle. “You need someone to go with you on Saturday?” I wondered whether it was the councilman on the phone with Abby outside Memorial Hall. Could they have been meeting at eight thirty? I'd need to remember when he left the party, but it was probably at the same time as my father for that impromptu board meeting.
Nana D and I confirmed our plans for tea the next day. She also told me she'd get back to me on the game as she might be attending with someone else, but she wouldn't say who. I suspected Eustacia Paddington would not be thrilled by Nana's potential alternative date if his name was Lindsey Endicott.
I drove the long way to my parents' house thinking about my next steps. I needed to go through Abby's papers and journal, not that it was a fair thing to read her personal thoughts. I could either give them to Sheriff Montague, or, I convinced myself, I could casually check out a few pages to see if there was even any reason to share what I'd found. I wouldn't hide vital clues, but it wasn't fair to waste taxpayer money by forcing the sheriff to read the journal if it amounted to nothing, right?
Chapter 12
After hanging up with Nana D, I scheduled a time for dinner with Eleanor on Saturday after the big baseball game. She usually took off Saturday nights, so there was at least one weekend evening as an option for potential dates. Unfortunately, the guy she'd hoped would ask her out this Saturday failed to extend an offer which meant she was looking for company anyway. I spent the rest of the night reading through the Dark Reality materials I'd collected from Abby's, so I could get Derek off my back on Abby's research before diving into anything else.
I chatted with Emma before bed, then caught up on some much-needed rest. When I woke up on Friday, I concentrated on reading all the pages of Abby's grade book which gave me a sense of how the late professor kept student records. While the prior semesters had been fairly well organized as evidenced by Abby's weekly notes, the current semester was mostly empty. The lack of content didn't seem to add up properly at first, but I theorized if she'd been more focused on connecting with Derek for season two of Dark Reality, Abby might have let her normal standards slip.
I flipped to the current semester to check the grades and learned the other pitcher, Jordan Ballantine, had earned a 'B+' on the first exam. I turned a few more pages and came across an 'A+' for Carla Grey wondering if she were related to the ruthless county judge I'd crossed paths with once before. I located Striker's page, and at first thought he had zero entries, but when I looked closer, he had an 'F' that was partially erased or smudged. I held it up to the light by my bedside table and could see the definite markings of a failing grade. While an 'F' didn't look good for Striker playing in the upcoming game, the fact that it was partially erased made me worry this was why Abby had been killed.
Since Lorraine had been helping run the department this semester while the previous office manager, Siobhan, took maternity leave, maybe she would have some idea what was going on with grading processes. I was also interested in talking with Lorraine about Abby's classes in case I accepted my father's request—or offer, whichever it had been—to assume responsibility for a few weeks. Lorraine agreed to meet at noon, so I arranged my morning such that I could get in a quick workout at the fitness center, shower and change, then head over to Diamond Hall.
When I arrived, Lorraine was making copies of class materials. I joined her near the machine and inquired about her brother. “How's Alton handling Abby's death?”
Lorraine shrugged her shoulders. “He feels bad about it, and although he never would have wished for anything to happen to her
, Alton's better off. I don't mean to sound cold, but that woman really made life difficult for the poor man.”
“He didn't seem too shaken yesterday. Has he been back long from his out-of-town trip?” I was hoping to find out the details of his alibi and eventual return home.
“Just a day or so. When the sheriff finally got a lead on his last credit card receipt, she was able to track down a local officer in Alaska who got word to him about what had happened.” Abby turned the photocopier off and walked toward her desk. “You're very interested in Alton. You don't think he had anything to do with it, do you? He has an alibi, Kellan.” She seemed concerned I would mistrust her brother, but truthfully, I didn't know much about him. He didn't seem like a killer based on our ten-minute conversation, however, both Nana D and Connor thought this was a spur-of-the-moment crime.
“Nah, just trying to pull all the pieces together. I could use your help, Lorraine.” Sensing Alton's alibi was probably airtight, I pulled out the grade book and asked Lorraine if she recognized it.
“Standard issue. We've mostly stopped using them, but some professors like to keep track manually before uploading any grades to the student tracking system. Where'd you find that one?” Lorraine had already sat at the desk arranging the photocopies in a folder marked Monday Coursework.
“Belonged to Abby Monroe. Alton and I found it yesterday. I took it with me to learn more about her classes. You know my father suggested I…”
“Take them over? Yes, he asked what I thought you'd decide.” She clasped her hands together on the top of her desk. “If you take the job, this folder is for you. What are you going to do?”
Lorraine had thought ahead and prepared materials for me. I'd already decided it was too valuable of an opportunity given Derek wanted me to stick around longer to help find more content for the show. “I'm going to the baseball game tomorrow to observe some of the students. See if I fit in.”
Lorraine looked like she nodded and agreed with me, but I could tell she was distracted. “It's important to your father.” Her eyes looked withdrawn and hollowed, and her lips were dry and cracked.
Academic Curveball Page 12