Academic Curveball

by James J Cudney

  He grunted and dropped his knife. The brash clang of metal against china made our silence more awkward. “I suppose I should have known today was Doomsday.”

  “Really, Dad? You need to stop this war with Nana D. I think you've bigger things to worry about based on our last conversation.” I finished two scones and nearly all of the sausages on my plate during his silent treatment, then changed the topic again. “Any more blog postings?”

  “Nothing. The last one was the day after the party,” he replied.

  I grew certain Myriam was behind it all. I'm sure she wanted Abby fired, too. What was Myriam trying to achieve with all these crafty illusions and distractions? “I have some questions about Abby for you,” I said.

  “Go ahead. I'm listening.” My father's eyebrow twitched.

  “I found a few materials in Abby's office to help me understand the syllabus for each of her classes. I peeked at her grade book, and a couple of things didn't add up,” I said.

  The sour expression on my father's face relaxed, but his shoulders were still stiffened. “I see this as a good sign if you're researching her classes.”

  I explained what I'd seen without giving any specific names. He couldn't offer much background on the process. He'd left the details of how a student's grades were finalized up to each department chair and Dean Mulligan. “I rarely take active notice in any specific student's performance unless there's an issue of potential suspension or a major award about to occur. Myriam should help you with the particulars once you decide if you'll come on board for a few weeks.”

  “I understand. We'll get to that momentarily. Were you getting any updates on Striker's grades?” I'd bet money he'd been paying attention if a Major League Baseball scout would be coming on campus today.

  “Yes.” Wesley Ayrwick proved he wasn't a man of many words.

  “Would you happen to know what changed permitting Striker to play today? Unless he earned a 'B+' in Abby's class, his suspension from the team's upcoming games would still apply.”

  “Why the sudden obsession with a baseball player's academic standing, Kellan?” He stood from the breakfast nook to pour more coffee. I nodded when he inquired if I needed a refill.

  I was glad to hear Striker could play. I'd liked him when we'd met at the fitness center, but the 'F' I'd seen in Abby's grade book had set off some alarm bells. It was too coincidental to accept he'd failed the course last semester, she marked an 'F' for his first exam this year, then suddenly everything's back on track for him to pitch today. “I'm a little concerned there's something fishy going on with the way Abby had been grading her students.”

  “Talk to Myriam. She personally verified Abby's exam results were loaded into the student system earlier this week. It takes a day for them to be approved, then students can check online.”

  “Okay. To answer your question, I'll stick around to handle Abby's classes for four weeks. I need to clear it with my boss, but he's already given me some assignments indicating he'll be happy I'm in Braxton right now,” I replied preparing for my next point. “I have some conditions.”

  My father looked elated over my news. “That's terrific. I'm glad you're keeping an open mind.” His bushy eyebrows raised inquisitively.

  I explained to him that I wanted to keep it quiet—he could only inform those who needed to know I'd be handling Abby's workload for the time being. I could see the news getting out and people beginning to think I've halfway moved back home already. I also asked him to explain everything he'd known about Abby's personal life.

  “I'd been spending more time with her than I'd have liked lately. She'd asked for too much time off, been more argumentative with me than usual, and caused some trouble with Lorraine on campus.”

  “Is that who you were talking about on the call in your study a few nights ago? The day I got home? I overheard you, and it sounded…”

  “Were you eavesdropping on me? I taught you better than that, Kellan.” My father gathered up his wallet and keys mumbling to himself about the downward spiral of society's future.

  “No, I came down to use the phone and heard part of the conversation. Who was on the call?”

  “None of your business, Kellan.” He was very calm and collected but obviously annoyed.

  I couldn't push my luck any further if I still wanted to ask the difficult question. “How well did you know Abby? Were you socializing with her after work?”

  “What? No, we met at her house a few times so we could have an honest conversation about her future. That's how I knew she'd intended to leave Braxton at some point in the new term.”

  He had to be the W. A. in her journal. Alton's initials were A. M. Coach Oliver's initials would have an 'O' in them. The neighbor saw someone's car at her house. Could I ask if he was having an affair with her?

  “Dad, how are things between you and Mom? She seems worried about you and not quite herself. Eleanor thought you guys had been fighting.”

  “Your mother is under a lot of stress. You know this is her busiest time of the year.” He placed his empty mug in the sink and rinsed his hands. “I appreciate you doing this favor for me. I'll call Myriam shortly to let her know you've accepted and to help you get situated. I need to meet up with the guys. Judge Grey's probably on the fourth hole by now.”

  My father grabbed his jacket from the closet and walked toward the garage. As he pressed the remote to open the door, I stopped him. “Did Mom find out about something going on between you and Abby? I don't mean to pry, but I found Abby's journal and an entry said…”

  “How dare you think I'd do something like that to your mother? I thought we'd been turning a corner with your decision today, but I don't know what to believe now. Won't you ever grow up?” he shouted before slamming the kitchen door shut.

  My first thought was he didn't answer the question. My second was how would I fix the situation. I didn't mean to aggravate the man, but my father knew something he wasn't telling me. I decided to give him some breathing room for the weekend. An hour later, I picked up Nana D from Danby Landing. She'd decked herself out in a Braxton Bear's jersey, a pair of dark gray tights, and a baseball cap. The Bears were the team's mascot and most assuredly described the way the team normally played. In the first few innings, they'd always seem a bit sleepy and quiet. By the third inning, they'd come out of hibernation and begin to score. I had high hopes for today's game, but Nana D wasn't convinced.

  “Striker's a good kid, but he's not prepared. I saw him at the pep rally last night. Definitely psyched to be chosen, but he looked worried about something,” Nana D said. She switched the radio station to her favorite country station and forced me to listen to her music.

  “He passed Abby's last exam. That should make him happy.” I noted while turning into Grey Field's parking lot. We were an hour early, but Nana D wanted to check out the tailgate party. I hadn't been to one in years and guessed she made regular appearances based on all the instructions she provided about where to park, what to bring, and who would be in attendance.

  “Yep. He was happy, but he mentioned a girl giving him a hard time about something.” Nana D smirked at me. “I assume it was his girlfriend, but he didn't say much. Chicks, sheesh!”

  Why would a college kid talk to her about their personal lives? “You seem to be everywhere these days, Nana D.”

  She gave me the thumbs-up sign as we parked the car, then jumped out quickly. “I'll be back in thirty minutes. I need to be seen.” I forgot to ask her about the meeting before the pep rally.

  Apparently, she had a more active social life than I did. While Nana D wandered off, I walked to the baseball stadium and watched the players practice for a few minutes. I stopped near the bullpen to view the pitchers warming up. When Striker finished, he crossed by the player's dugout where Coach Oliver talked to a few other team members.

  “Kellan, that you?” called Striker.

  “Congratulations. It looks like everything worked out with the grade. You must be excited to
meet the scout today,” I replied. Nana D was right. I could still see a haze across his eyes and hoped he had nothing to do with Abby's murder.

  “Yes, I passed. Coach Oliver called to tell me. Jordan didn't take it too well, but I think he understood he'd have a turn later this season,” Striker replied tucking his glove under his right arm and fixing the sleeve on his uniform. As he twisted his arm, I noticed a large scratch near his elbow.

  “Looks like that hurts.” I hadn't seen it while working out, but he'd worn a longer shirt that day. Surely, the sheriff would've found his DNA on her body if it had come from a struggle.

  “Oh, that, yeah… I don't remember. Wanna meet my girlfriend?” he said as a pretty blue-eyed, blonde cheerleader walked in our direction. “This is Carla Grey. She's here supporting me today.”

  Carla smiled and dropped her pompoms on the dugout roof. “Hi. Ready for a great game? Who's your good-looking friend, Striker?” Her bright makeup and a very low-cut uniform with a short skirt stood out.

  Striker explained who I was. While I enjoy compliments, I was distracted trying to recall where I'd seen her before and grew curious about her last name. “Are you related to Judge Grey?”

  Carla nodded nervously. “Yeah, um… he's my grandfather. Do you know him?”

  I did given my father played golf with him all the time. He'd also been the county judge for nearly thirty years. Everyone was afraid of him. I suddenly felt bad for the poor girl. “I've not had the pleasure to directly meet him before, but I certainly know of him from my college days.”

  Carla grabbed her pompoms. “I should go. Gotta start pumping the crowd soon, right? See you around, Kellan.” When Striker went to kiss her goodbye, she turned her cheek. “Don't ruin the makeup!”

  Carla exited, and Striker's mood worsened. I said, “Everything okay? You seem a bit disconnected today. I'd think you'd be thrilled to meet the scout.”

  “It's cool. Chick problems. Stepdad on my case. I just hope I do well,” he mumbled.

  Striker returned to his warm-up when the coach called him over. I went back to find Nana D who was on her second hotdog at that point. She was entertaining several of the ladies from the local chamber of commerce with stories about her and Grandpop's golden days.

  As we took our seats, she leaned against me and said, “You see that harlot over there. Eustacia may think she's got one over on me by getting Lindsey Endicott to take her to the game. I'll fix that woman! Can you believe that get-up she's squeezed herself into? Honestly, a woman her age putting on the team's baseball uniform simply to impress a man.”

  As far as I could tell, Ms. Paddington and my nana were similarly dressed. “Umm, aren't you and her about the same age, Nana D?”

  I felt the pinch on the back of my arm before she'd even begun to verbally assault me. “I am three months younger than that jezebel, and you have no idea what you're talking about. You didn't even wear a single thing to support our team today, and if I didn't know better, I'd think you were on Eustacia's side. No grandson of mine would ever do that to me, you little…”

  The announcer interrupted her mini-tirade to ask everyone to stand for the national anthem. I smiled at Nana D, but it didn't help my case. “No pie for you for two weeks, Kellan.”

  The rest of the game was a nail-biter like my temporary truce with Nana D who agreed to forget my comment claiming she didn't want any tension in the air to interrupt the Braxton Bear's mojo. I was shocked at how much school spirit the woman had. At one point, she tried to high-kick with the cheerleaders, but after nearly falling into Dean Terry, Nana D calmed down.

  The Braxton Bears led the game four to three when the seventh-inning stretch started. Striker had done well, but I could tell he was beginning to tire once he'd given up the last two runs in the inning before the break. I saw Coach Oliver warming up Jordan Ballantine in the bullpen. I worried what it meant for either player's chances with the scout.

  Nana D went to get a few more hotdogs for us. I caught up with Fern Terry, the same woman who'd been the dean when I attended Braxton. Fern was extremely tall with a steel-gray, pixie-style haircut. It hadn't changed since I'd known her, nor had her broad shoulders and puffy face. I always thought she'd look better with a longer hairdo, but then again, what did I know? She remembered me as well as the many times I'd sat in her office defending my fraternity. “I hear they're close to picking a new president at Braxton. Still can't believe my father's retiring this year,” I said hoping to catch a clue if she was one of the two final candidates.

  “Yes, Monday or Tuesday is the big day. I've got it on good authority the candidate will be notified of the Board's decision,” she said with an intimidating tone. When Dean Terry glanced at the dugout, I caught a snarl erase her previous smile as she zoomed in on Coach Oliver.

  “I imagine they picked two people who've served the college faithfully for years and truly know how to make Braxton continue to excel like my father has for the last eight years.” I smirked at her as if I were the cat who'd caught a little mouse.

  “Most definitely. I'm quite sure that's the case.” Dean Terry nodded, then walked down the bleachers toward the field. “I need to speak with Coach Oliver. Please excuse me,” she growled.

  I thought it odd she was at the game given sports were never something high on her list of interests in the past. Something was brewing between those two, but I was also certain she was one of the two presidential candidates which meant there was someone else external being considered based on what I'd learned. I racked my brain trying to figure out who could be in the running, but unless it was someone from the Paddington, Stanton, or Grey families, I was clueless.

  Nana D returned. “Got you a turkey burger with avocado on an alfalfa sprout bun. Try it.”

  “Umm, I've had them before, and since when did they start serving health food at a baseball game?” I made a face like the world had come to an end. I often ate healthy not that she realized it.

  “When's the last time you went to a baseball game?” she chided me.

  I reflected for a few seconds which were apparently too long for Nana D. “I thought so. Just eat it, or I won't lift that two-week pie ban.” Nana D elbowed me, then laughed. “I ran into Bridget Colton while I was out just now.”

  I knew Nana D was intent on stirring trouble again. “How's my little elf doing today?”

  Nana D shushed me. “You are weird. Just thought you might like to know she was here. Maybe you could say hello after the game. Bridget doesn't know many people in town.”

  I was not dealing with Nana D's romantic set-ups today. “Oh, look, the game's starting.”

  “Yep, seems Striker's out, poor kid. Marcus will grind him over that.”

  Striker threw his glove at the fence. Councilman Stanton and Coach Oliver were arguing about something, but I was too far away to tell what was going on. Dean Terry walked away with a perplexed expression on her face. “Jordan just took the pitcher's mound. Guess you were right,” I said.

  “When am I not right?” Nana D tilted her head and lowered her sunglasses. “About Bridget…”

  I shrugged her off, told her to focus on the game, and promised I'd come by the following morning for brunch if she'd leave the topic alone. Nana D was content I'd at least agreed to visit again.

  Jordan pitched the remaining innings and only gave up one run when the Woodland Beavers tied the score. Luckily, the Braxton Bears hit a triple in the final inning and won the game seven to four. The crowd went wild when the players took to the parking lot to celebrate thrilled they'd won the first game of the season. It meant Braxton might have a fighting chance to make this year's championships.

  Nana D left as soon as the game ended indicating she'd be getting a ride home with one of her friends. I mingled among the fans and took in the college atmosphere. When I went to graduate school and obtained my doctorate from the University of Southern California, I didn't live on campus. I'd also worked full-time, had just gotten married, and Emma had been bor
n shortly afterward. It had been nearly a decade since I felt that electrifying school spirit on high alert. It was pretty fantastic to see the whole town banding together in support of the Braxton Bears.

  On the drive home, I made plans to meet with Dr. Castle the following Monday morning to assume responsibility for the classes. She'd been curt on the phone and didn't want to discuss anything until we'd met in person. At least I'd got that meeting setup, and I could find out more about Braxton's grading process, maybe even see the date and time stamp of when Striker's grades had been uploaded.

  Chapter 14

  By early evening, I'd gone for my daily run choosing the Millionaire's Mile for viewing pleasure. All the houses were grand and loomed high between Main Street and the Wharton Mountains in the background. It was an impressive sight for any newcomers to Braxton, and it always made me realize how beautiful my hometown was. I set my alarm and took a catnap before I met up with Eleanor for dinner. The chilly fresh air while watching the game must have tuckered me out.

  When I woke up, I remembered I hadn't shared with Connor my news about Abby's journal entries mentioning W. A. Since I was running late, it would have to be a Sunday activity. I found my favorite pair of dark jeans, added a light gray button-down shirt and a black sports jacket to the ensemble, and eased my feet into a pair of black boots given there was a bit of snow sticking to the ground ever since the evening flurries had descended upon us.

  I met Eleanor at an Italian restaurant near the Finnulia River waterfront. A few new places had opened in the last year, but I'd only been able to try one when I was home at Christmas. She'd made the reservations and gotten us a table in the back section looking out at the gorgeous, moonlit sandy banks.

  “I know the owner. We once trained together at another restaurant,” she said as I pulled out her chair. Eleanor had dressed up a little more than her normal work outfits, but nowhere near as fancy as the retirement party. I was glad to see she stayed in the warmer color families as her eyes and hair shined best when she wore red and yellow. Just like mine!