Academic Curveball

by James J Cudney

  I went home only to find my father locked in his study and not in a position to talk. Sheriff Montague was already in there. I didn't dare interrupt that conversation no matter how much I wanted to be a fly on the wall. While I knew there had to be a reasonable explanation for the missing clarinet's presence in his desk, I knew my father was in no condition to be questioned once his beloved antique piece of furniture had been destroyed. Once I heard the sheriff leaving, I checked with my mother who asked me to let it settle overnight.

  I verified with Cecilia that Emma was excited to start packing for her trip. I called Nana D to let her know the latest news and made plans to stop by at some point the next day. We agreed on a late brunch as she had something important to tell me about a decision she'd made. Was she going to finally retire from Danby Landing altogether? While most of the staff handled the day-to-day tasks, she still went to the daily farmer's market, decided on what to grow each year, and found ways to reuse and recycle everything she could on the land to help protect the earth. Her latest focus had been a study in composting, and while I applauded her efforts, the last time I'd been there I recommended she move the pile further away from the back door. It was not the most pleasant of odors, and no matter how good her baking was, it couldn't overpower overly sweet or rotten fruit.

  I also found time to research restaurants and selected one I thought was a perfect backdrop near the riverfront so Maggie and I could have dinner on Tuesday evening. I confirmed a time with her and scheduled a reservation still contemplating whether it should be for two or three. If I brought Emma, it might make the conversation much easier and lighter, but it would also mean Maggie and I would spend the time getting to know one another again rather than discussing what may or may not be going on with Connor. As I pulled the covers up on the bed, I closed my eyes and prepared for my conversation with Carla the following morning.

  * * *

  “Livid. That's the only word I can come up with right now,” my father said while slamming his fists on something inside the kitchen on Sunday morning. “I will have to find a specialist to repair that desk, and it will take weeks if not months. Now what am I supposed to do, Violet?”

  I'd been standing outside the door in the hallway listening to their increasingly tense disagreement for the last few minutes debating whether to casually walk in and surprise them or make a decent amount of noise, so they knew I was about to enter.

  I decided to pretend to stub my toe on the kitchen door and make a big entrance as if I were in pain. It would make me feel better about interrupting their conversation and let them quickly cool down, so there was no embarrassment over their argument. As near as I could tell, my mother wanted my father to hire a lawyer, but he was insistent he had nothing to hide.

  “Ouch! I can't do anything without coffee. Why is it always me walking into things?” I whined and winced while entering the kitchen. The room was overly chilly when I hobbled to the counter to pour myself a cup and said good morning.

  “You need to be more careful, honey,” my mother said standing near the back door staring into the backyard. “And wear some shoes. Then you won't hurt yourself.”

  I nodded and agreed with her. “How was everyone's night?”

  “I'm leaving for Braxton. I need to see the damage myself and find out if there's any hope for a repair,” my father said while exiting the kitchen.

  “He's a bit grumpy, huh?” I said while poking around the cupboard looking for something to eat.

  “Your father refuses to acknowledge Sheriff Montague is out to get him. And he doesn't want to cooperate with her on the investigation.” My mother settled into the breakfast nook and sighed.

  “What happened?” I spread Nana D's raspberry jam on a corn muffin and took a huge bite.

  “Your father was tired of moving offices back and forth between the renovations, the relocation, and the eventual move out when he retires from the presidency. He told them to put his desk in storage until he made a final decision on a few things. He was worried that something might happen to it once it became apparent how easy it was for a murderer to sneak around campus. Nothing sinister.”

  “And the clarinet?” I asked curtly. “I'm assuming few people knew about that secret panel?”

  “Lorraine knew, but his best guess is someone playing games by hiding things. He doesn't know how they found out about it,” my mother replied with increasing desperation. “This has to end, Kellan.”

  “I know, Mom. It's been a rough two weeks. I've got a little experiment setup which might help bring this to a close soon. I'm sure Dad's telling the truth. The sheriff will figure it out before long.” I knew this morning's discussion with Carla would be fruitful, and I hoped everything would come together by the end of the day.

  “I appreciate it, Kellan. I've got to get ready for church.” My mother kissed my cheek and shuffled out the kitchen with a heaviness that hurt my heart.

  An hour later after a quick run and shower, I pulled into the parking lot at The Big Beanery. I located Connor so we could compare notes.

  “There wasn't any blood on the clarinet.” The anguish in Connor's voice was concerning.

  “I don't understand. Does it mean that's not the murder weapon? Is this all a coincidence?” I said. There had to be a logical explanation, but it wasn't obvious to me.

  “It could be any number of reasons. Maybe the killer wiped it clean and hid it there thinking someone would discover the lost clarinet and assume it was a practical joke.” Connor shook his head and breathed deeply. “The sheriff hasn't told me everything yet.”

  “There were those thefts, too. I suppose it could be unrelated to the murders,” I added, then checked my watch. “Carla will be here in ten minutes. Where's April?”

  “A slight change of plans. Sheriff Montague came across some additional evidence this morning and wanted to check it out. She's assigned Officer Flatman to monitor us.” Connor pointed to the corner where a man with a snow hat and giant fuzzy sweater sat. “See him?”

  It took me a minute, but I finally recognized him in his disguise. Officer Flatman looked like an ordinary patron of The Big Beanery having a cup of coffee and reading the paper on a Sunday morning. “Okay. I guess it's a good sign she has confidence in us.”

  “She has confidence in me. I have specific instructions to shut you up if you cross any lines with Carla,” Connor said in an authoritative tone. “Don't make me use force on you if I have to.”

  I acknowledged his sarcasm, then ushered Connor out of the café so he could make an entrance after Carla arrived. I ordered a cup of coffee at the counter, then walked to the table near the corner behind Officer Flatman. “How's that article on cross-stitching?” I whispered to him as I sat.

  “Shut it, Mr. Ayrwick. She just walked in,” he replied.

  Carla waved hello and came by. As she peeled off a heavy winter coat, I told her to place an order at the register, and they'd deliver it with mine in a few minutes. While waiting for her, I took a guess her more conservative, dark skirt and long-sleeve baby-blue sweater were par for the course when meeting her grandfather for brunch. The pearls gently bouncing around her neck as she walked back to the table were an even nicer touch. Maybe I didn't have it so bad in the Ayrwick family.

  “Thanks for buying my coffee, Professor Ayrwick.”

  “It's the least I could do for asking you to meet on a Sunday morning,” I replied as she sat across from me. “What did you think of yesterday's game? You must have been upset Striker wasn't pitching.”

  A smile formed on her lips. “Nah, Striker had his chance, but he screwed that up. I'm with Jordan now. He was awesome yesterday. I'm sure that scout's gonna find a place for him in the major leagues.”

  A trail of steam rose from her cup. As it dissipated near her cheek, I considered how to keep her talking about the baseball team until Connor arrived. She seemed relaxed for someone who might have committed two murders. “Oh, I guess I misunderstood. I didn't realize things ended be
tween you two. I'm sorry.”

  “Don't be. He wasn't the right guy for me. I want to be with someone who has a future. Someone who can impress my grandfather,” she said. Carla's hand reached part way across the table and closer to my coffee cup.

  “I guess that explains why I saw you and Jordan together a few times this week at the… umm… diner.” It was an awkward way for a professor to mention noticing his students making out, nor was it any of my business, but it would get her to tell me more. As I grabbed hold of my cup, Carla rested her hand on top of mine.

  “Oh, that… yeah, we just started dating. You know how it is. Sometimes I think maybe I should be with someone a little older, more established.” Carla smiled at me and squeezed my hand.

  I quickly pulled back and faked a yawn, so she wasn't touching my hand. She was clearly flirting with me at the same time as telling me she'd dumped Striker for Jordan. “You're so young, I imagine there are lots of things you want to explore one day. It must have been a shock when Striker was put on probation again. I'm going to try to help him out next week when he meets with Dean Mulligan.”

  My phone vibrated. When I looked at the screen, it was Nana D. I couldn't take the call and sent it to voicemail. I'd feel the wrath later, but this was more important. She'd eventually understand.

  “Someone needs to help him out. I tried studying with him, but schoolwork's not his thing, ya know?” she said tapping a finger against her temple. “But I can tell you are into…”

  Luckily Connor interrupted. “Kellan, Miss Grey, two of the people I've been searching for.”

  “Hi, Connor. What can we do for you?” I asked. Carla turned in his direction and smiled.

  “I'm trying to complete some interviews on anyone near Grey Sports Complex the day of Lorraine Candito's accident. I was wondering if I could ask you both a few questions. Should only take a few minutes.” Connor was very smooth making it obvious why he'd gone into the security field.

  “Sure, we don't have a lot of time. Carla and I are going over her term paper, and she is meeting Judge Grey in a few minutes.”

  After he pulled up a chair, Connor looked first at Carla. “I'll make it quick. So, you entered the building around a quarter to five from what the security camera recorded. Do you remember seeing Mrs. Candito? I'm trying to figure out if anyone knows what kind of mood she might have been in. Perhaps she was sad or upset, and it led to her deciding to take such drastic action.”

  Carla shook her head and opened her eyes widely. “It's so awful, but I heard it may not have been suicide. Is there any truth to that rumor?”

  “I'm not sure what the sheriff thinks. I'm trying to figure out a timeline in case there was anything Braxton could've done. Can you clarify the times you were onsite? I take it you didn't see her?”

  “Nope. Let's see… I ran the indoor track for an hour from five to six. Got cleaned up and went to the student union building to check my mail about six thirty, then met up with my boyfriend, Jordan. Didn't we see you at the cable car station around a quarter to seven, Professor Ayrwick?” Carla replied sipping from her cup and sitting back in the chair.

  “Yes, I thought I saw you but couldn't stop since I'd been on my way to meet Lorraine. I guess you never saw her, huh?”

  “I would have said hello and helped her if she was upset. I worked with her at Diamond Hall,” Carla said seeming saddened by Lorraine's death, not like someone who could have killed her.

  My phone vibrated with another call from Nana D. I sent it to voicemail again. Hopefully, she would remember I had an important meeting this morning and stop calling soon. If not, I'd turn the device off until we were finished.

  Connor pretended to ask me a few questions, then said, “I appreciate it. That addresses two more people on my list. Anything else you might be able to share, Miss Grey?”

  “I don't think so. I should finish talking to Professor Ayrwick about my term paper.” She pulled out a new copy from her bag and placed it on the table. “There are a few changes to discuss regarding Hitchcock's early movies.”

  I noticed it had a bunch of handwritten notes in the margins. I looked up at Connor who smiled. “Oh, that's great. I had some ideas for you, too.”

  Connor interjected. “Can I take a look? I'm a huge Hitchcock fan. What's your paper about?”

  As Carla explained a few things, Connor pretended to check something on his phone. I knew he was bringing up the images of the notes we'd found. He looked up at me and shook his head quickly. I couldn't be sure what he meant and lifted my eyes in confusion.

  “It looks like you've got a great outline here,” Connor said while putting his phone away. “I don't think it matched my expectations of what I thought you'd write about, but I'm sure you'll do well.”

  He was trying to tell me the handwriting didn't match. I worried she might have been clever enough to disguise her penmanship on the notes. “Well, I guess you've got everything you need, Connor? Anything else I can do to help you?”

  My phone vibrated again. This time it was a text message from Nana D.

  Nana D: Please call me as soon as possible, or I'll slap you silly later. I found something. Crucial.

  Nana D's urgency could be anything from a secret episode of Myth Busters to a new recipe for German chocolate cake. I would call her back as soon as I finished with Carla.

  Since Connor was leaving, I could give Carla a few tips on the paper and end this charade. We'd learned absolutely nothing except she probably wasn't guilty of murder. Guilty of leading Striker on and dumping him for a potentially better opportunity. Guilty of flirting with every possible man. But there was little reason for her to be involved in changing grades. She just wanted to find a guy to impress her grandfather and was even considering me not that there was any chance of that happening.

  “No, I'm going to let everyone know what I've found out today and head back to my office. I'll be in touch if I need anything else,” Connor said before walking out the door.

  Officer Flatman left a few seconds later to compare notes before they updated Sheriff Montague. I turned to Carla. “Well, that was weird. What were we talking about before he stopped by?”

  “I was saying someone needed to help Striker learn how to study. And that I was glad to have your help on my paper,” Carla replied reaching for my hand again. Luckily, I was too quick and able to grab my coffee cup.

  “I imagine Striker didn't take the news well about the break-up, huh?” I needed to stop her from flirting with me. If she talked about Striker, maybe she'd eventually feel guilty for what she'd done.

  “He's a big boy. He can handle himself. I'm sure the girls will be lining up for him. Speaking of girls lining up for someone…”

  If I didn't nip this in the bud, I was going to have a big problem. “Miss Grey, I need to make you aware that your attempt to flirt with me again today is not something I can reciprocate. You are one of my students, and I make it a policy never to get involved in any sort of personal relationships with them. It is also against Braxton's rules of conduct…”

  “Oh, lighten up, Professor Ayrwick. I'm just playing. Girls flirt all the time. If you knew what I had to put up with keeping them from Striker in the past. The obsession one of them had! So ridiculous.”

  “What do you mean?” I said. Maybe Connor and Officer Flatman had left too early.

  “Ugh, this one girl has been in love with him forever. She goes to his games and stares at him all the time. It's creepy if you ask me,” Carla said putting the term paper into her bag. “She came on to him at the game yesterday and didn't look happy with Striker's response. I saw them talking during the seventh-inning stretch. He practically had to shove her away to get her to leave him alone.”

  “Do you know who she is?” I asked Carla desperate to find out what she knew. This was going to be the major break in the case I needed.

  “Yeah, I work with her. She always acts like I don't exist and would purposely forget to tell me things to do for the professor
s. Listen, I need to meet my grandfather. Maybe we could chat again?”

  “Hold up. You're not talking about Siobhan, are you?”

  “No way! Bridget Colton is the fruit loop in love with Striker.”

  Chapter 25

  My brain was in overdrive assembling all the information I'd learned in the last few days. I couldn't believe how obvious it had been. “Tell me everything you know.”

  “She's always sneaking into his dorm to talk to him. She almost caught Jordan and me together when we got back from the movies the night Professor Monroe died.”

  “What do you mean? Where did you see her?” I felt my heart race as everything fell into place.

  “Jordan dropped me off at my dorm and was about to kiss me goodbye. Bridget came running onto the floor looking all freaked out. I thought she saw us as she dropped her clarinet case. I remember laughing when I noticed she was wearing one of the new baseball jackets. They weren't going to be put out for sale in the school bookstore until the following week for the new season, and already she'd found a way to buy one. That's one obsessed girl!”

  Nana D rang my phone again and out of sheer shock, I hit the accept button. “I can't talk…”

  “Kellan, I've been trying to reach you. Why didn't you pick up?” Nana D sounded exasperated.

  “I'm with a student. Can I call you back?” I tried to stop Carla from putting on her coat.

  “No. This is important. I found something,” yelled Nana D.

  Carla tossed her book-bag over her shoulder and waved to me. “Professor Ayrwick, I need to go. I'm gonna be late, and my grandfather will get angry.”

  “No wait,” I whispered to Carla.

  “Nana D, hold on, please.”

  “Kellan, I was cleaning out the compost pile after you read me the riot act about the smell. I think I found the weapon used to kill Abby,” cried Nana D. “Please get here as soon as possible.”