No Good Deed

by Ali Franklin

  Contents

  Title

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  About the Author

  Copyright

  NO GOOD DEED

  Haverwood College, Book 3

  Ali Franklin

  Chapter 1

  Ryan glared at her opponent. She could take him, but then she’d have to get through his brothers, who were bigger and stronger. She looked left, then right. No one was close enough to help.

  She took a deep breath and pulled back her right leg. The closest kid smiled, realizing she was telegraphing her next move. He stepped closer. She leaned right, then kicked left.

  The ball sailed toward the sideline. One of Ryan’s teammates sprinted for it as an opponent closed in. There was a brief scuffle and the ball went out of bounds.

  Ryan sighed. She could never figure out how eleven-year-olds could be so good at this game. They could barely control their own bodies, but they could kick a soccer ball like they belonged in the pros. She shook her head and prepared to go after the throw-in.

  The Haverwood College Student Government’s “Fourth Friday” event with the county orphanage was well attended. There were twelve students and staff members from Haverwood and eighteen kids from the orphanage this morning. It was just enough to have a raucous fifteen-on-fifteen game of soccer.

  Ryan felt a raindrop on her head, then another on her shoulder. She looked up. The sky, overcast since yesterday, was now an ominous gray. She shivered as she realized the temperature had dropped.

  Late January weather in North Texas was unpredictable in the extreme. It could be sunny and seventy degrees one weekend and sleeting or snowing a few days later. Sometimes the high temperature varied by forty degrees from one day to the next.

  And then there was the hail. Storms were a regular occurrence, as were “ice bombs” of various sizes. It wasn’t unusual for the news to feature pictures of softball-sized hailstones that had damaged cars and attic windows.

  Realizing the rain was going to worsen, Ryan waved her arms and shouted for the closest participant to pick up the ball. Before the kids could protest, she called out.

  “Let’s go into the Rec Center.” She pointed to the big building at the other end of the field. “We can play in there.”

  Louise Carson, the director of Haverwood’s outdoor education office, jogged over to Ryan. “I hope it’s not crowded in there this morning. There might not be room for us.”

  Ryan nodded as she and Lou waited for the rest of the participants to walk in front of them. The two administrators would bring up the rear and make sure no one was left outside. Ryan pointed as she counted the kids.

  “Sixteen, seventeen…eighteen. Okay, that’s all of them.” They moved toward the Center. “There aren’t any classes in there this morning, and the facilities are first-come, first-served. If it’s full, we’ll try to convince someone to join us. Everyone likes to play with kids, right?”

  They entered the facility to find only one of the three basketball courts being used. Ryan staked out one of the remaining courts and asked the students to close the big nylon curtains that separated the courts from each other. Meanwhile, she talked with the student who was running the front desk.

  “I wouldn’t play soccer in there,” the student said. “The curtains don’t reach all the way to the floor. A heavy ball like that can roll through to the other courts. It could be dangerous.” He waggled his eyebrows. “But you’ve got the perfect number of people for dodgeball.”

  Dodgeball! Ryan practically squealed. She hadn’t played in years, and she was sure the kids would love it.

  Two minutes later, Ryan walked toward the court with a net bag full of red rubber balls. The third basketball court was now occupied and she listened to the sounds of students at play. It was one of her favorite sounds in the world.

  She reached their court and told the participants about the new plan. As she suspected, they were happy to play dodgeball. They kept the same teams they’d had outside and lined up the balls in the center of the court. Ryan was just about to start the game when a loud voice interrupted.

  “Dean McCabe! Dean McCabe! Stop!”

  Ryan looked over at the opening in the curtain. Five Haverwood students were waving her over. She held up her hand to the dodgeball players and said, “Just a sec, guys.” Then she jogged over to the group to see what was on their mind.

  “Dean McCabe, we need this court. My team needs to get ready for intramurals.”

  Ryan looked at the young man. Kenn Kennedy was a fifth-year senior and a self-proclaimed Big Man on Campus. He and Ryan had met a few times during Kenn’s college career when he was accused of breaking the school’s honor code. He’d managed to get off the hook in all but one instance, but Ryan suspected most of the allegations had been true.

  Kenn spent the second semester of his freshman year on probation for throwing parties in the residence halls. The parties themselves wouldn’t have been much of a problem, but it was rumored that he served alcohol to minors. The suspected open-bar activities continued into his sophomore year, when Ryan had the pleasure of telling him he was no longer welcome to live on campus. These days, Kenn did his entertaining off campus, making him the problem of the Haverwood County Sheriff’s Department. And no matter how many times deputies were called to his apartment to shut down a party, Kenn never thought twice about hosting the next one.

  Kenn Kennedy was a stubborn young man who felt entitled to do whatever he wanted.

  “Dean, we need the court.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Ryan, “but you’ll have to wait until one of the courts is free. We’re already using this one.” She looked at her watch. “Father Paul is due to pick up the kids in forty-five minutes. Why don’t you play dodgeball with us until then?”

  Kenn scowled. He turned and waved his hand at his group of friends. “Do we look like we’re ten years old? I pay tuition to go to school here, and that includes using the Rec Center. Do those orphans pay tuition?”

  Ryan knew Kenn didn’t actually pay anything. His father took care of the bills and had even bailed Kenn out of the county jail twice after DUI charges. She pushed back.

  “Kenn, the Rec Center is open for free play on Friday mornings. Why don’t you just let the kids have their time here without making a big deal about it?”

  The young man puffed up. “I don’t think you understand. I have to defend my basketball title. My team is counting on me.”

  Ryan contained her amusement at his self-importance. “Forty-five minutes, Kenn.” She turned to leave.

  “Excuse me, Dean McCabe?” It was Laura Squire, Kenn’s girlfriend. Laura was just as entitled and spoiled as Kenn, but her parents had even more money. The Squires (of the Atlanta Squires) had donated the Squire Life Sciences Building on campus. The family took advantage of every opportunity to mention their importance to the Haverwood community, and Laura was no exception.

  “Dean,” Laura’s sticky-sweet drawl grated on Ryan’s ear. “I’m just certain my daddy would be interested to know you were putting these non-st
udents in front of the people who pay your very salary.”

  Ryan had overcome more serious problems than Laura Squire telling her father about a squabble on the basketball courts.

  “Well, I guess that’s a chance I’m just going to have to take,” said the dean.

  Laura stepped forward. “You work directly for President Oscar Martinez, don’t you, Dean?”

  Ryan wondered where this was going. “Yes, I do. And I’m sure he would think I’m doing the right thing.”

  “That’s just it,” said Laura. “My daddy says people have been seriously questioning Mr. Martinez’s judgment recently.”

  That raised Ryan’s hackles. “Doctor Martinez has been a visionary and effective leader of this institution for many years, and that’s not about to change. No matter what your father says.”

  “Well, I’m not so sure the board sees it that way.”

  Ryan’s blood turned cold for just a second. She remembered that Dr. Squire had recently been appointed to the Board of Regents. It was possible he could make Oscar’s life difficult.

  Ryan considered her position. She’d never been afraid to face a student head-on when it came to her own career. She always acted with integrity and in the best interests of the people involved. But did she have the right to put Oscar’s job on the line?

  Ryan weighed her options. She also weighed the likelihood that Laura would actually talk with her father about the basketball courts. Then she laughed inwardly. Did anyone really believe that the board would fire the president of the college over the dean of students wanting to play dodgeball with a bunch of kids from the orphanage on a Friday morning?

  Ryan smiled at the students. “You have three options.” She raised a hand and ticked them off. “Number one, join us in our dodgeball game. Number two, go scrimmage with someone on another court. And number three, go have a cup of coffee and come back in forty-five minutes.” She turned her back on them and waved over her shoulder. Then she blew the whistle to start the game.

  “I’d like to play,” said one of the young men standing behind Kenn. He put an arm around the woman next to him. “Meg?”

  The woman nodded. “Yeah. It’d be fun.”

  At that moment, the rubber balls started flying. Ryan watched as Kenn, Laura, and the remaining minion glared at the two defectors and scrambled to get out of the way. She’d have to tell Oscar about the disagreement, but she was confident she’d made the right decision.

  Ryan and the two students joined the fray. The game continued unabated until Ryan’s phone rang. It was Father Paul Woo.

  “Where are you guys?” he asked.

  “We’re in the Rec Center. Come join us for dodgeball.”

  The priest chuckled. “I’ll be right there.”

  A few minutes later, one of the kids spotted a short, pudgy young man in a clerical collar at the entrance to the court. The boy stomped his foot. “Awwwww…”

  Father Paul grinned and walked onto the court. The participants gathered and gave each other hugs, promising a rematch. And if all went well, they could have the rematch at the new gym that was being planned for the orphanage.

  Father Paul shook Ryan’s hand. “Thank you so much for arranging this get-together. The kids always look forward to coming to campus.”

  “We love having them here. We all had a great time.”

  Father Paul shepherded the kids toward the parish school bus. Ryan and the rest of the Haverwood volunteers walked outside and waved as the bus pulled away. The little group broke up with promises to recruit even more volunteers for next month’s activity. Ryan pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed Oscar’s number.

  The president listened to her story about Kenn and Laura without interruption. When she finished, he chuckled.

  “Ryan, you know better than to take these threats seriously.”

  “I know, but they were really mad. And Robert Squire is on the board now.”

  “Your instincts were right. It’s not a problem. The worst that might happen is that the board asks you to reconsider the open-use policy for the Rec Center. But don’t worry. My contract is not in danger.”

  Although this was the response she’d expected from Oscar, Ryan was relieved. She thanked him and headed toward her office.

  Chapter 2

  Ten minutes later, Ryan breezed into the reception area of her office with two cups of coffee and a bright smile. Her assistant, Helen, looked up.

  “The contracts for the country club came this morning. They want you to sign them and send them back right away.”

  “Finally,” said Ryan. “I was beginning to think they’d changed their mind about letting us use the courts.” She set both coffees on Helen’s desk and sat in a chair facing it.

  Ryan loved her job, and Helen Wherry was one of the best parts about it. Helen was one of the longest-serving employees at Haverwood. In her over thirty years at the college, she’d worked in a variety of roles. She landed in the Dean of Students’ office before Ryan arrived at Haverwood. She’d helped Ryan get up to speed as dean and was now a trusted friend and advisor.

  Helen took a sip of her coffee. “I still don’t understand why Chase Arrington couldn’t have signed the contract. He’s the one FLH committee member who belongs to the club.”

  Ryan sat in one of the little chairs facing Helen’s desk. “Just between you and me, I think Sherman Oliver wanted someone else’s name on the contract. If anything goes wrong, he knows I’ll take care of it.”

  “For the Love of Haverwood,” or “the FLH,” was a combined fundraiser for many of the philanthropic organizations in Haverwood County. It was the brainchild of Ginger George, the college’s director of scheduling, who’d found herself in a tight spot a few years ago. She was finding it increasingly difficult to manage all of the requests that came in from non-profit organizations that wanted to use campus facilities for their fundraisers. The college had a practice of allowing as many community events as could be held without disrupting its own work, but those requests piled up. One day, the scheduling director told her assistant that she wished all the community organizations would do their fundraising together—and the FLH was born.

  The first FLH had consisted of a huge chili cookoff held on the college’s recreational fields over Valentine’s Day weekend. Subsequent years had seen the addition of more events, including a field day at the college, car washes, bake sales, golf tournaments, and scavenger hunts. This year’s event included a pancake breakfast at the Catholic church, a formal dinner-dance, a silent auction, and a tennis tournament. As always, it would conclude with the chili cookoff.

  The position of FLH chairperson rotated to a different organization each year, and this year, that organization was the Haverwood STEM Society. The Society chose Veronica Arrington, a mainstay of Haverwood’s philanthropy scene and owner of a small civil engineering firm, to be the FLH chair.

  Ryan stood. “I’ve got some work to do before I meet Veronica for lunch. She wants to go over the details again. We’re still two weeks out, but she’s acting like it’s tomorrow.”

  “Ugh. That woman is the biggest control freak I’ve ever known.”

  Ryan walked into her office and booted up her computer. She answered a few emails and spent some time looking at the budget for the following academic year. For a moment, she wished the college was on the list of organizations that would benefit from the FLH.

  Because the FLH had been born at Haverwood College, the college held a permanent seat on the committee. This year, President Martinez named Ryan to be the college’s representative. She’d been glad to accept the project, particularly after her last “special assignment,” babysitting a billionaire alumnus. That particular mission had turned out well for the college, netting a multimillion dollar gift to the endowment and a new humanities building. But it had frayed Ryan’s nerves and ended in an alumna going to prison. Compared to that assignment, managing one of the FLH weekend’s events was a walk in the park.

  Ryan�
�s assignment this year was chairperson of the chili cookoff. She was being assisted by her friend Jamie O’Leary, owner of O’Leary’s Irish pub, the little watering hole across the street from the college’s recreational complex. And it was a good thing, because Ryan knew nothing about cooking chili.

  Jamie had allowed Ryan to test few recipes in the pub’s little kitchen over the past few weeks. In the end, Ryan had to admit she’d never be a chili champion. Fortunately, she didn’t have to be. All Ryan had to do was make sure the competition had plenty of entries—and that a lot of people bought tickets to sample the fare.

  Ryan glanced at the little clock in the bottom corner of her computer screen. It was almost time to meet with Veronica and Jamie at the pub. She powered down her computer and told Helen she’d be back after lunch. Helen gave her a little wave and called out, “Good luck!”

  Ryan pulled on a light jacket as she strolled from her office in Glaser Hall toward the recreational fields. She skirted the grass and watched as a physical education “boot camp” class ran through a number of complicated-looking exercises. At the other end of the field, students kicked a soccer ball against a softball backstop. She smiled. The heat in the summer might be almost unbearable, but late January in Texas usually provided plenty of great days to be outside.

  She reached Hawk Street and looked both ways before jaywalking. She soon reached O’Leary’s and stepped inside, inhaling the smoky aroma of one of Jamie’s specialties: pulled brisket. Her mouth was watering even before she spotted Veronica at a booth in the corner.

  Jamie was nowhere to be seen, but Veronica had already spread her papers across the top of the table. She motioned toward Ryan.

  “Glad you could make it, dear. We have a lot to do.” The chairwoman gathered her papers, smacking the bottom edges against the table to straighten the little pile.

  Veronica owned a small but extremely profitable Dallas-based civil engineering firm. Before his death, her father had invented an ingenious and inexpensive way to purify wastewater in large quantities. His product had turned his previously middle-class family into overnight millionaires. His untimely death a few years later left Veronica in charge of a company she had not understood. Not wanting to give it up, she’d worked hard to take control and was now a high-powered businesswoman in her own right.