Academic Curveball

by James J Cudney

  “I'm happy you came to your senses the other day and suggested dinner.” I wasn't going to tiptoe around her chilly attitude earlier in the week. “Thanks for dropping the cold front, Anna Wintour.”

  “I'm sorry about that, Sherlock Holmes. I didn't know how to react to something you said,” she explained while perusing the menu, then suggested a few appetizers to share.

  I ordered two glasses of champagne to make the night more relaxing. I racked my brain trying to guess what sensitive topic I'd brought up. “Can you clue me in? I'm rubbish at remembering right now.”

  “Connor.”

  I hadn't seen that one coming. “He's grated on my nerves lately, too. What's he done to you?”

  Eleanor tapped her fingers on the white tablecloth and fidgeted with her flatware. “Um, well, it's not an easy topic for me to bring up around you.”

  I'd begun figuring out what she was about to say before the words came tumbling from her mouth. Connor and my sister? I was torn between rage that he'd considered going out with Eleanor without asking me first and recognizing it also meant there might not be anything going on between him and Maggie. “Has something happened between you two before?”

  “Not really.”

  “That's a crock of dirty rotten horse manure, to quote Nana D. Have you two gone out before?”

  “Once. Maybe twice. But nothing's happened, I swear,” Eleanor replied as her cheeks flushed brighter than her blouse. “We came here for dinner two months ago.”

  In between the waitress delivering our cocktails and the appetizers, I'd managed to learn Connor had stopped by the Pick-Me-Up Diner the prior fall before I'd come home for winter break. Eleanor hadn't seen him in years but was intrigued by his dramatic makeover when they'd run into each other again. They'd met for drinks one evening at the end of her shift, and she thought there was a connection but couldn't be certain. Then he'd asked her to dinner where they had a fantastic time. A few weeks later, they met for lunch right before Christmas, then he'd gone cold in the last six weeks. She was too nervous to ask him what had happened.

  “I'd have appreciated someone telling me sooner. I feel like everyone forgets to inform me what's going on,” I said in an aggravated tone somewhere between a hungry bear and a scorned lover.

  “It's not like you've ever asked any questions about my dates before. I didn't know what to do, but then you mentioned how close he and Maggie seemed to be, and well…”

  I'd started to piece together the concern. “You think he dropped you to date Maggie?”

  Eleanor nodded. “I don't know what else it could be.”

  I gave some consideration to the facts. Connor and my sister had gone out on several dates. Then he started getting closer to Maggie helping her acclimate to working at Braxton and let go of the memories with her late husband. “By any chance, did you ever talk about me with Connor?” I'd asked for a specific reason, but I also wanted to know whether he'd been upset about losing our friendship, too.

  “As if! Why would I chat about you when we were on a date?” Eleanor said with disdain. “I'm sure I mentioned you were coming home for Christmas, but we didn't actually talk about you.”

  “How did he react when you said my name?” While Eleanor gave it reflection, I finished my glass of champagne and asked the waitress to bring us some more water. I'd drunk enough liquor already during the week by the way my jeans felt at that moment. It couldn't be the desserts.

  “Come to think of it, he did get a little quiet. When he dropped me off, it felt very distant.” She cocked her head to the side and wiped her lips with a napkin. “Any thoughts?”

  “I was wondering whether he felt a skosh weird about going on a date with you, being my sister and all, right after you'd mentioned me coming home. And then he probably heard I was coming back again for Dad's retirement party.” Connor felt guilty, I knew it.

  “He did call once, and we talked about getting together again. Nothing ever materialized.”

  Eleanor and I played three rounds of Rock, Paper, Scissors to see who had to buckle up and ask them the next time.

  “Ha! I always beat you, Kellan.” Eleanor jabbed me with her fork. “You're done for the night!”

  And she was right. I was exhausted by that point and asked for the check. While we waited to pay our bill, we talked about everything I'd learned on the murder investigation. Eleanor was certain the W. A. in Abby's journal was not our father. She thought Connor would know possible options and encouraged me to ask him about it when I brought up the topic of Maggie.

  “Don't tell him you know of the two dates we went on!” she shouted as I closed the car door.

  * * *

  I'd slept way later than I intended the following morning and was going to be late to Nana D's. I didn't want to get in trouble or be penalized for any reason, so I exceeded the speed limit on a couple of streets trying to arrive on time. It was Sunday, and most people would be at church at that hour. As I rounded the corner to reach the dirt pathway to Danby Landing, I heard the sirens. If I didn't have bad luck that morning, I wouldn't have had any kind at all.

  I pulled to the side of the road and waited for the officer to reach my car. “And what possessed you to drive fifty in a thirty-mile-per hour zone?” a familiar voice said.

  I looked up and noticed my newest good buddy staring back at me. He must not have any older siblings as I'd never heard of or met anyone in his family before. “Officer Flatman, I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking. Totally my fault. I didn't want to be late to my nana's place.”

  “Oh, it's you,” he replied with a hint of a smile. His pudgy arms waved around mechanically. “You should know better. How would Mrs. Danby feel about her grandson getting a speeding ticket?”

  I studied the crafty look on Officer Flatman's face. He was either about to serve me an ironic piece of humble pie, the only kind of pie I didn't like, or he was letting me know he understood my predicament. “I don't suppose there's any way you could look the other way.”

  Officer Flatman asked for my license and registration, then told me to sit tight for a minute. While he was gone, I thought about how to ask him if he knew the latest on Abby's murder investigation. He might be so thrilled to give me a ticket, he'd let a piece of information slip out. I determined my approach before he walked back and handed me my paperwork.

  “I think we can let this one slide, Mr. Ayrwick. But if I see you as much as a mile over the limit, or failing to come to a full stop, there won't be any second chances. You got me?” he said holding back a snicker.

  “Promise. I'm eternally grateful, Officer Flatman. You must be busy with the investigation. The sheriff speaks so highly of your work collecting the evidence. This paperwork shouldn't be anything to get in your way,” I replied with grave sincerity. “Kill 'em with kindness,” Nana D always preached.

  “Did she say that? Wow, I was wondering if Sheriff Montague valued my input. Especially when I found the hole in Fern Terry's alibi,” he replied with glee as his face began to flush.

  Oh, it might be working. “Definitely. You were such a huge help. And who knew you were such a methodical guy. Maybe you'll make detective someday soon, huh?”

  “That's my greatest hope. Detective Flatman before I turn thirty. I've got a few years left, but…”

  Nope, I needed to interrupt him if I would catch him off-guard. “Dean Terry's alibi, yeah, heard about that. I hadn't even known she was a suspect.” I had no idea how Dean Terry could be connected to Abby's murder. It was a shock to hear her name. “Imagine her being…”

  “Fern was seen leaving the retirement party at eight but claimed she left at nine,” boasted Officer Flatman. “Eleanor watched the woman leave much earlier right after Myriam left, too.”

  “Did you ever find out what happened?” I asked. If Myriam left before Fern, the Shakespeare fanatic couldn't verify my sister's account of the events. Could anyone else have seen her?

  “Nope, I guess Fern must have been wrong about the time. I'
m waiting to find out if Sheriff Montague learned what happened between the time she left the party and the time she got home at a quarter to ten.” Officer Flatman smiled, then looked like he'd realized he said too much.

  I couldn't recall seeing her at all, but much of my time had been focused on Maggie in that last hour. “Well, I appreciate you not giving me a hard time today. I should head out to Nana D's.”

  “Absolutely, Mr. Ayrwick. You have yourself a good day,” he replied. As he walked away, I could see him giggling hysterically in the side mirror. Odd, given I was the one who got out of the ticket. Not one to tempt fate, I thanked the powers-that-be for showing mercy on me and ensured the speedometer never passed twenty-nine as I drove down the dirt pathway to Nana D's farm.

  When I pulled up, she was on the porch swinging in a rocking chair. “Three minutes late, Kellan. You're lucky I had a phone call that kept me from finishing the breakfast preparations on time.”

  Maybe my luck was changing today—two in a row. “So sorry, I ran into a bit of… traffic on the road.” She didn't need to know it was just one car standing in my way of getting here on time. The wind whipped up behind me reminding me it may have been warmer than usual today, but it was still not decent enough to hang around outside. “Let's head in?”

  Nana D continued rocking back and forth. Her braid was pulled apart today, and she looked quite pleased with herself. A vague sense of the cat-who-swallowed-a-mouse syndrome seemed to appear. “Certainly. Aren't you gonna ask me who kept me so long on the phone?”

  She was going to bring up Bridget again. “I'm sure it was important. Let's eat that delicious breakfast you've been cooking. What is it, bacon and eggs? Homemade biscuits?” I rubbed my stomach as the hunger pains began to grow. If she had fresh orange marmalade, I'd kiss the ground at her feet.

  “I'll follow you in. I'm grateful Officer Flatman was kind enough to tell me all about your traffic jam.” As the door banged shut behind her, she let out a roaring cackle worthy of Fran Drescher.

  I turned bright red. It wasn't Bridget on the phone. Flatman had the last laugh, that pig! “You didn't?”

  “I did. If there had been any so-called debt between you and me over a past trip to the county jail, it's surely been repaid by now.”

  All I could do was nod. Repeatedly. Thirty minutes later, I continued to swallow my pride as she chastised me for being late and getting pulled over. “I can't be having people say negative things about my family. We've already got some tarnish because of this murder your father let happen. Don't you follow in his footsteps and add another black eye. It's not gonna help me in the future.”

  “Help you with what?” I mumbled while shoveling half a biscuit into my mouth.

  “Doesn't matter. You know what I mean,” she replied and stepped away from the table.

  Knowing how much she loved gossip, I traded a few secrets to get myself out of trouble. Nana D wanted to be the one to ask Connor if they'd been dating, but I persuaded her to leave the situation alone.

  “You gotta convince Lorraine to report those missing items to Connor. And find out about the grades from Myriam. I'm going around Marcus Stanton and asking a friend on the board. No one's doing much about solving this debacle. I need a crime-free town. This doesn't look good for us right now.”

  “I'm on it. Why is it so important…” The doorbell interrupted me from finishing. “I'll get it.”

  “Thank you, Kellan. I'm sure glad you haven't lost your manners,” she said with a loud sigh.

  When I opened the door, I had a case of déjà vu. The elf was back! “What are you doing here?”

  Bridget stepped inside and began unbuttoning her coat—at least the neon green parka was gone given the warmer weather. “Didn't we cover this last week? I take lessons from Seraphina on Sunday mornings. Today is Sunday. Any idea why I'm back?”

  It appeared my little elfish friend liked to banter. She'd obviously been well-trained by Nana D. It was then I'd realized why Nana D was so willing to drop the conversation at the baseball game about finding Bridget at the tailgate party. When I'd volunteered to come for breakfast today, Nana D knew Bridget would be here for clarinet lessons. She's a devil, not an innocent grandmother.

  “Music lessons. I'm back in the game, no worries,” I replied feeling glad she'd chosen a different outfit this time—an actual normal one. Bridget had on a white cable-knit sweater and a pair of skinny jeans that looked modern and chic. “Speaking of games, I hear you were at Grey Field yesterday.”

  “Yes, I'm a big fan. I support the school teams whenever I can, but I've always had a strong connection with baseball. My pops instilled it in me when I was a young girl,” she replied.

  “Do you attend Braxton or know any of the guys on the team?” I couldn't remember if she'd said which college last time.

  Bridget shrugged her shoulders. “Yeah, I've met a few of them. I know Craig from stopping by the communications department last semester. I'm in a biology course with him and Carla Grey this year. Everyone else calls him Striker, but I'm not into that whole nickname thing.”

  While Nana D remained conspicuously absent, I learned Bridget was orphaned at a young age and raised in foster care. When she turned eighteen, she'd received a scholarship to Braxton and had been there the last four years which meant she'd be graduating in a few months. She was studying to become a teacher with a double focus in English literature and music education. Bridget seemed like a nice girl, but a rather young girl, and I wasn't sure what my nana thought she was doing by setting me up with someone at least ten years younger than me. It may have worked for my parents, but I didn't see it working for me.

  It was toward the end of our brief get-to-know-each-other session when I realized she'd mentioned Striker often visiting the communications department. “How did you know Craig Magee would go to Diamond Hall so frequently?”

  Bridget laughed. “Oh, I work there. I'm one of the student employees in the communications department. It pays for my supplies and books, so I don't have any extra out-of-pocket expenses.”

  “Didn't one of the students overhear Lorraine and Abby fighting? Was that you or a different student worker?” I said.

  Bridget fidgeted in her seat and unlocked the clarinet case. She looked past me probably hoping Nana D would enter the room. “It was me, but I didn't mean to get anyone in trouble. That sheriff interviewed me because I worked in the building and wanted to know if I'd seen anything in the past.”

  “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I heard it was a loud argument, and I was curious how it started,” I added feeling guilty that she was trying to do the right thing and had probably caused a slight rift in the department. “I'm sure Lorraine knows you were only stating what you'd heard. She's an understanding woman.”

  “Yeah, it's been a little awkward, but I'm sure it will get better. I didn't think Lorraine had it in her, but she was rude to Professor Monroe on a couple of occasions. I saw her grab Professor Monroe's wrist that day and shake her wildly. It had something to do with some legal document. I didn't hear the whole conversation.” As Bridget finished speaking, Nana D sauntered into the room as though she hadn't been playing matchmaker in the background.

  “I'm so sorry to keep you two waiting. I had to put all that food away. Can I get you anything, Bridget?” asked Nana D sweetly.

  “I should be going,” I interjected while casting a pointed glare in Nana D's direction. “It was great talking with you, Bridget. Perhaps if my daughter is visiting in the near future, you might be interested in teaching her how to play the clarinet. It could be a little extra spending money in your pocket.” I had two reasons for making the offer besides genuinely wanting Emma to get more involved with musical instruments. I needed an opportunity to find out more from Bridget about how things worked in the communications department. I also wanted Nana D to think her plan to push Bridget and me together was working in the hopes she would leave it alone. There may have also been a small part of m
e that relished in taking away Nana D's opportunity to teach Emma how to play the clarinet. Knowing how much she would love to spend time with her great-granddaughter, I had to find small ways to get back at Nana D for always beating me in our little games. We did like teasing each other.

  “What a lovely idea,” Nana D said. “I'm sure you three would make quite an afternoon out of it.”

  “Excellent. I hope you'll lend Emma your clarinet, Nana D. I wouldn't want to buy one until I knew if it was something she'd use.”

  Nana D turned to Bridget. “Did you find your missing clarinet? I'd like to give mine to Kellan.”

  Bridget shook her head. “Not yet. I found my clarinet case, but the actual clarinet was missing. I'm pretty annoyed about it, too. I'm not made of money!”

  I learned Bridget had forgotten her clarinet at Diamond Hall the prior weekend, but when she went back to retrieve it after the cops let her into the building several days later, she'd found the case was empty. She reported it to Lorraine, which made sense based on Lorraine telling me there were several items missing. I'd have to ask about the third missing item. Her explanation made me wonder whether the clarinet was still missing because someone had used it to hit Abby on the head. I made a note to ask Connor if that could be the murder weapon before I worried Bridget. I didn't want her to think something of hers had killed Abby when students still thought Abby's fall was an accident. I had to admit it seemed peculiar that a thief would only take the clarinet or that a murderer wouldn't discard both the case and the clarinet used to kill someone.

  Chapter 15

  Mother Nature blessed Braxton overnight by sending the vast majority of her powdery dust to blanket the Saddlebrooke National Forest. The giant fir trees looked gorgeous with their robust green branches covered in bright white flakes. I pulled into The Big Beanery parking lot to meet Myriam for an early breakfast on Monday morning. After hemming and hawing about what to do, it seemed more appropriate to call her Myriam rather than Dr. Castle since we would be colleagues for the next month.