Academic Curveball

by James J Cudney

  “I appreciate your candor, I'll keep it in mind,” I said politely. “And Siobhan's number?”

  “All the infections that the sun sucks up. From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall, and make him. By inch-meal a disease!” Myriam said while growling.

  “Surely you're not comparing me to an insect or an illness. Is that the most appropriate quote you could come up with, Myriam?” She rattled off the phone number and hung up without a goodbye.

  Chapter 23

  On the walk to the field, Siobhan returned my call and said, “I'm sorry I missed your email, Kellan. I've been so busy with the twins and working on scanning all the exams, I hadn't checked my account.”

  “No worries, I understand. If it weren't important, I wouldn't have bothered you over the weekend,” I replied.

  Siobhan told me she would log back online when she got home that evening to email me a copy of her exam. When I asked what her schedule was for the next few weeks, she mentioned they'd hired a temp to fill in while everything was sorted out with finding a new chair of the department. “I'll be onsite three mornings a week to help transition everything in the meantime. I'm also going to ask the student employees to work a few extra hours. I'm sure they can use the money since your father cleared the expense for the short term.” Siobhan put me on hold for a second when one of the babies cried.

  I'd forgotten about the student workers in the communications department until Siobhan mentioned them. When she returned, I asked, “I met one of the workers, Bridget. I don't believe I know who the other one is.”

  “Yes, I'm not surprised. Bridget's fantastic, very enthusiastic. I was none too pleased when they assigned the other girl to me last semester. She's always late and barely did any work.”

  “Why wouldn't you ask for a re-assignment? Or fire her?” It seemed logical to me. I'd rather not have to deal with someone incompetent for the next few weeks while I taught Abby's classes.

  “There's no firing Carla. Can you imagine Judge Grey's fury if I gave his granddaughter the heave-ho? That might cost me my job, Kellan.” Siobhan laughed loudly before adding, “And with two little ones at home, that's not an option.”

  Wow! How did I miss that fact? I hung up with Siobhan, checked my watch, and rushed off to meet Striker. He was standing on the sidelines leaning against the dugout wall when I arrived at Grey Field's baseball stadium. Given he was dressed and ready to go in his uniform, I didn't have the heart to tell him based on Myriam's latest status he had no chance of playing in today's game. I felt awful holding that information from him but knowing his current or former girlfriend might be the person who killed Abby and Lorraine seemed much worse.

  “Hey Striker, how are warm-ups going?” I asked.

  Striker tried to smile despite his face's refusal to comply. “I'm in good shape. Part of me wants to head home, but the coach won't let me leave. He says I need to show the scout I'm a contender.”

  “He's right, you know. I'm sure the scout's seen students deal with academic probation before. He cares about your pitching consistency and attitude on the field. Not what the dean says about the results of one exam,” I added feeling the soft spot I had for the kid reminding me to give him a boost. I hoped he didn't turn out to be the murderer.

  “I don't understand what happened with that test. They won't show me the paper, but Dr. Castle says she has reason to believe the version she graded was not mine. How does that happen?”

  I asked Striker to clarify exactly what he remembered occurring around the time of the exam. Striker explained that Profess Monroe had promised to grade it over the weekend and let him know the following week before the next practice. Then he heard she'd fallen down the steps, and everyone was searching for the exams. Coach Oliver called him last Friday afternoon to say he'd gotten a 'B+' which meant he could play in the game. At the pep rally, everyone was excited he could still play. Then Dean Mulligan called a meeting this week and told him there was suspicion over whether it was actually his test results. I had no reason to suspect Dean Mulligan, but I should check his alibis when I had a chance.

  “I meet with the dean again on Monday to look at the exam they're saying isn't my work,” added Striker. “My stepfather's gonna kill me if I don't make it to the major leagues.”

  “I'm sure they'll figure it out soon. I'll see if I can attend the meeting. Would that help?”

  Striker nodded. “You've been really cool about this. I wish you'd been my professor all along.”

  Everyone wanted me at Braxton these days. “Striker, I have to ask you a sensitive question. I wouldn't ask if I didn't have a good reason, but I need to share something confidential with you. Can I trust you not to talk to anyone else about it?”

  “Yep. At this point, you're the only person on my side. Of course, I'll answer anything you want,” Striker replied.

  I asked Striker why he'd left and returned to the fitness center the day Lorraine died. He explained he didn't want to be around Jordan, then mentioned a few people saw him in the sauna and could confirm he was there until he went back to finish working out. I'd verify it later if necessary. “Have you ever been given or found any notes about helping you pass your classes so you could play on the baseball team? Or has Coach Oliver ever told you about them?” I hesitated in revealing something the sheriff wouldn't want to be shared, but I thought it might yield me valuable insight.

  Striker pulled back with a shocked expression. “Notes? Like emails or text messages?”

  “Not exactly. Maybe a piece of paper taped to your locker at Grey Sports Complex? Or something through the mail?”

  “Nope. Got no clue what you're talking about, man. Did someone say I did?”

  “Nobody's said you did anything, Striker. I'm trying to put together a few pieces of a very peculiar puzzle. So, you do not know anyone tampering with your grades, telling you they did anything, or sharing any sort of communication about you deserving to play in the baseball games?”

  “Seriously, I'm clueless. This is turning out to be a horrible senior year. First, I can't play baseball. Then Carla dumps me. I just want to go home.”

  “What do you mean Carla dumped you? Is that the girl problems you had earlier this week?”

  “I can't believe I fell for her. There were lots of girl problems last week!”

  “What do you mean, Striker?” Alarm bells were going off, but I couldn't figure out why.

  “I might as well tell you. She's the one who looks bad, not me.” Striker kicked the dirt and a few piles of dust wafted by us. “Carla was just interested in me because of the scout. When she thought I had a chance of getting into the major leagues, she threw herself at me last semester. She and my stepfather kept pushing me to do better so I could get a big contract. But as soon as I got put on academic probation and the scout seemed to be looking elsewhere, Carla started distancing herself.”

  “I'm not surprised. I have to admit I didn't get a positive feeling from her when I saw you two together at last week's game or in the classroom this week. She's very flirtatious with other guys.”

  “I was too distracted by everything, I didn't notice it. That's why I lied to you last week about where she and I were the night Professor Monroe died. Carla and I did have a few drinks in the dorms, but it was much later than I said. I was at the fitness center most of the night. We met up at nine thirty.”

  “I don't understand why you couldn't say that when I asked,” I explained recognizing Carla was looking much more suspicious.

  “I didn't want to contradict her in front of you since we were already fighting all the time. I figured if I agreed with her, she wouldn't start something again. She told me she said we were together because everyone started saying the professor's death wasn't an accident. She didn't want anyone to think I killed the woman over my bad grades. I guess Carla was just trying to cover up that she was cheating on me with Jordan that night,” Striker said.

  “I think you're partially right. When did she break up with you?”<
br />
  “When I was put on probation again and couldn't play for the scout, Carla told me she needed space to think about whether she could be involved with someone who was suspected of cheating.”

  Based on Striker's news, neither he nor Carla had a complete alibi during the window of time when Abby was killed. Striker explained that the scratch on his arm was from Carla when they had a fight about his getting put back on academic probation. He was glad not to deal with Carla's frequent physical attacks whenever she didn't get her way. Once he left for the dugout, I walked to the hot dog stand near the west bleachers and located Connor. “Able to give the all-clear for today's game?”

  “Yes, we're in good shape. With two murders on campus, I'm more cautious than normal.”

  “I have to admit, security does seem to be lacking a bit around here. I don't mean any offense by it, but it seems like anyone can walk in and out of the academic buildings. Grey Sports Complex only has security cameras and card readers in a few places. Grades or exam results are being changed.” I'd taken a risk it would antagonize Connor, but it had to be said.

  “You're absolutely right. That's part of the reason why your father hired me. The previous director had gotten a little too lax about protocols. There have also been a significant number of changes in the national security requirements around colleges and universities given all the school shootings. We've got a two-year plan to bring everything up to standards.”

  “You've got your work cut out for you.”

  “I'm glad to have your help, Kellan. Just be careful how closely involved you get. I've been in the middle of some nasty wars in the past. I wouldn't want you to put yourself in the line of fire. What'd you need to talk to me about?”

  I updated Connor on all my conversations. While he put a call into the sheriff, I looked around the stadium. Bridget was talking with Dean Terry in the stands on the third base line. She had on the giant green parka again today, but in her defense, the temperature had started to drop quickly. The latest weather report mentioned another blizzard from the north in the coming days. It was likely starting earlier than they'd expected. I scanned the crowd looking for anyone else I knew. Nana D was a few rows behind them talking to Marcus Stanton. I watched them interact for a few minutes, and as the time passed, their discussion grew more and more animated. By the time the game started, the councilman had thrown his tray of fries on the ground and stormed up the steps to the exit.

  Then Derek called to tell me the results of his big meeting with the executives. They weren't happy with his season two plans. Instead of giving him another chance, they fired him. While Derek had already found himself another gig, he advised me to be ready for news from the network about my future. Jordan pitched for all the innings while I forced myself to ignore Derek's news. Since we were the home team and ahead going into the ninth inning, when the Millner Coyotes failed to pick up any additional runs during the top half, the game was over. The Bears had won both of their games so far this season, and the crowd was intense with excitement. Dean Terry was cheering, Nana D was doing some sort of mock Moon Dance, and Jordan was carried off the pitching mound by his teammates. It was exactly what the campus needed to keep its mind off the murder investigation.

  With the event coming to a conclusion and the fans starting to head back to the parking lot for post-game parties, Connor and I called the sheriff to reveal our latest news. We searched for a quiet area in the stadium and found a table under a covered awning where hardly anyone else remained.

  “I appreciate your help, Connor. We spent another round here at the precinct going through the alibis for everyone who was recorded entering or leaving Grey Sports Complex. Officer Flatman will drop off a copy at your office tonight to do a final compare to see what doesn't add up.”

  “How about Carla Grey?” Any chance you remember if she was included? Now that we know she was lying about her whereabouts the night Abby died, she's clearly at the top of the list,” I said unable to help myself. Connor had asked me not to say anything, but I couldn't keep my mouth shut.

  “Yes, she was on that list, Little Ayrwick, as were at least six or seven other people who may or may not have alibis the night of Abby's murder. Cross-referencing everything is not as easy as it sounds. Nor do I want to incur the wrath of Judge Grey or Councilman Stanton if we do not have an airtight case against either student.”

  Connor chimed in, “So, April, how do you want to handle talking to the suspect?”

  “I think our best chance is to get Carla to meet with me. If she thinks it's about her last exam or something to do with class, she might slip when I ask a few questions about the nights of the murders.” She was hiding something, I could feel it. Nana D would say it's a sixth sense unique to the Danbys, but I wasn't so certain. I was good at reading people who had something to hide.

  “I agree asking Carla about her dating life or what she does while working in the communications department would come across better from you. And she wouldn't run to her granddaddy because you asked to meet,” Sheriff Montague replied.

  “Exactly, which is why…”

  “But,” she continued, “Verifying her alibi for both nights is something my office should be involved with. I'm willing to concede it's also something Director Hawkins could ask as part of a campus review on access control. I will make you a deal. While you two are talking to her, I want to be present. I will be sitting nearby listening in so I can stop you if you're doing anything to ruin my case.”

  Connor attempted to speak, but I interrupted him. “Connor used to be a police officer. I'm sure he's qualified to keep my conversation with Carla from causing any detriment to your case.”

  “That's not my point. It's my butt on the line here. If anything goes wrong, I'll be held responsible for allowing you to do this,” the sheriff said. “I don't want to be accused of setting up a witness and then not being able to arrest her.”

  “Are you saying you don't trust me?” I teased.

  “I wouldn't trust you if you were the last person on the planet, and I needed your help to survive. I'd rather let the zombies eat my flesh alive than turn to you. I'm only giving this a chance because Connor will be there.”

  I distinctly heard the obnoxious guffaw of Officer Flatman in the background. Connor had the decency to stifle his. I'd caught her referring to him as Connor again. That professionalism sure came and went like my aunt Deirdre's fake British accent. She'd moved to the UK years ago and was notorious for using it whenever it worked to her advantage, but it was sure gone when she started drinking.

  After we all made our concessions, the plan was to invite Carla to meet me at The Big Beanery the following morning to discuss her term paper. While I was dialing her number, Connor received another call and stepped away. After Carla picked up, I mentioned I wanted to meet with her about the upcoming paper. “My schedule is packed next week, and I know it's last minute notice, Carla. I was hoping maybe you wouldn't mind getting together tomorrow.”

  “Sure, would ten work? I can only stay for thirty minutes. I usually meet my grandfather for brunch on Sundays, but he lives on Millionaire's Mile which isn't too far away.”

  “That's fantastic. Bring any notes you might have written. It'll help us finalize the full outline for your paper. I appreciate it.”

  “You're welcome. It's always hard to say no to a cute guy,” she replied in a kittenish tone.

  I'd only talked to her the one time outside of class, but I'd never picked up this type of direct flirtation with me before. Was she really acting that way toward her professor? I thought maybe I'd read into it and let it go for the moment.

  “Excellent, Miss Grey. See you tomorrow.” I hung up anxious to tell Connor about the call. When he returned to the table, I noticed his puzzled expression. “What's up?”

  “You'll never believe who that was.”

  “Well, don't keep me in suspense. Out with it,” I replied. If it was Nana D playing another game or my father trying to cause trou
ble, I would scream in frustration.

  “The facilities crew was moving your father's desk out of storage. Since everyone was at the game today, they finished the relocation, so he could have his office back on Monday.”

  “Wow, scintillating. Who would have thought an office move would get you so worked up?”

  “Cut the sarcasm, man. They accidentally knocked the desk into the handrail while walking up the steps. They couldn't hold on, and it went sliding down the staircase.”

  “Oh, no. Not his antique mahogany desk. The one he found at the historical auction years ago?”

  “Yes.” Connor shook his head back and forth, then reminded me that my father had asked for his desk to be moved to storage once the sheriff had put a lockdown on access to Diamond Hall's upper floors. After the sheriff had done a quick check on the desk the next day, she cleared Braxton's facilities department to put the furniture in storage. Today was the final move back to his post-renovation office.

  “Um, okay… what's got you so unnerved?” I inquired feeling concerned over what he might say.

  “Does your father play the clarinet as one of his hobbies, Kellan?”

  I knew the answer was no. But I also remembered that Bridget's clarinet had gone missing two weeks ago. “Did it have blood on it?”

  “That's what I'm about to go check out,” Connor said.

  Chapter 24

  After Connor took off to meet the facilities crew, I returned to Diamond Hall to get my briefcase and download the emails Siobhan had sent. When I compared the photo of the note we'd found in Coach Oliver's office to the handwriting on Carla's pop quiz, some of the letters were almost identical but a couple on Carla's paper were much loopier and grander. I needed Connor's advanced security system to be certain, but he was busy checking out the potential murder weapon discovery. He'd sent me a text that while the clarinet had some damage, it could've been from the fall and not from hitting Abby. The sheriff's team had picked up the instrument and would run some tests overnight. He'd update me the next day before we met with Carla Grey.