Red Solaris Mystery Series Boxed Set: Books 1-3

by Bourne Morris

  Joe shook his head. “Actually, he tells us the house always had bars on the windows even when he was a kid growing up there. Apparently his grandfather, Pastor Edward Lassiter, had security issues.”

  “When did he put in the padlocks?” asked Jamie. She looked wan but generally healthy. She held her grandfather’s hand and her voice trembled slightly.

  “He didn’t tell me that, Jamie,” said Joe, with a gentleness I was pleased he could still muster. “But he did admit he had been watching you for several weeks and planning your kidnapping for some time.”

  “How did he find out so much about me?” Jamie’s lip trembled.

  “He’s the provost,” I said. “He had access to all your records, and once he got the key from your handbag, he gained access to your apartment.”

  I turned to Joe. “Does he deny or contradict anything Jamie has told us about him?” I couldn’t believe a man as smart as Ezra McCready would just spill out the entire story without demanding a lawyer. I could still see him in the president’s office lecturing me.

  “McCready doesn’t deny a damn thing,” said Norm from the couch. “The watchman has asked for his attorney. He’s ex-military and tough as nails, says he was just doing his job as a security guard. But McCready’s a different story. He looks broken to me. He just sits on the floor of his cell with his head in his hands. Won’t eat. Weeps a lot.”

  I tried to imagine feeling sorry for McCready, but my mind couldn’t make that leap.

  Jamie sighed and squeezed Wynan’s hand. “He never hurt me. He really wanted me to fall for him, but I couldn’t.”

  “Of course you couldn’t,” I said.

  “Filthy son of a bitch,” said Wynan.

  Jamie seemed lost in her thoughts. “It wasn’t that he was cruel or ugly or anything…” Her voice went down an octave. “It’s just that he was so creepy.”

  I got down from the windowsill and went to the girl and put my arms around her. She put her hand over mine. “Oh, Dean Solaris, I was so scared of him. I still can’t believe how scared I was.”

  I continued to hold her.

  “Did they find the gray van?” asked Wynan.

  Joe shuffled the papers again. “In the shed behind the house, along with Jamie’s car. McCready’s been doing a lot of driving.”

  “Why did McCready move back here to Nevada?” asked Shelby.

  Joe looked at another one of the papers. “Apparently he came back here because President Lewis offered him the provost’s job last spring.” Joe picked up another paper. “Over the summer he rented an apartment here in Landry for a while until the semester began and…”

  “And he saw me on campus,” said Jamie.

  By noon I knew I had to go home, take a shower, change my clothes, and get to campus.

  The school, hell, the whole university, would be in an uproar over the news about the provost and Jamie’s return.

  Joe motioned to one of the patrolmen in the hallway. “Please take Dr. Solaris to her home,” he said.

  “You coming?” I asked.

  “I still have paperwork to do to get McCready transferred to a jail with a psych ward where he can be examined.”

  “Later?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Are you still angry with me?”

  Joe pulled me into an alcove while the young patrolmen waited patiently by the door. Joe’s face was inches from mine and his eyes were dark and held no affection. “You should have waited in the car instead of pursuing Shelby. You could have called on the sat phone if you were worried about what he was up to. I asked you to wait.”

  “I called you when I found the driveway.”

  Joe’s chest heaved with exasperation. “You had no business being anywhere near that driveway.” He gripped my arms. “Don’t you realize the watchman might have shot you? McCready might have taken you hostage. Any number of really dangerous things could have happened to you because of that stupid move.” Joe’s breath was hot and sour.

  “But I found…”

  “I know what you found. I also know that your impulse to take risks drives me crazy. For all your insights, for all the help your big brain can be, you still don’t know how to protect yourself or accept intelligent advice. You always think you know better.”

  I put my hand on the side of his face, but he shook his head. His breathing became heavier. “Honestly, I don’t know how much longer I can live with this.”

  Pain started in my chest and went down to my stomach. “You mean live with me, don’t you?”

  “I’m too tired to answer that question now.” He pulled me back out into the hallway. “Please take her home,” he said to the patrolman, and turned on his heel.

  Chapter 37

  Back home, I stood in the shower for a full twenty minutes letting the hot water pour over my aching body. I was out of my mind going over and over what Joe had said. I’d only seen him that angry once before when he thought I was secretly in love with someone else. But he knew how to admit he was wrong, and maybe he would this time.

  Then again, I had been lured by a glint from a gun. I’d been a fool again, and there was every chance in the world that this time, I would not be forgiven.

  When I got to the journalism school, Nell was the first person I saw. “What a time we’ve had,” she said, giving me a big hug. “Let me get you some coffee, and how about a sandwich?”

  Edwin appeared in the hall. “Red, my dear, from this morning’s TV reports, I gather that you have been moonlighting as a police detective.”

  “Just my old habits as a news reporter, Edwin. I have to be on the scene whenever something exciting happens.”

  “Well, I want to hear all about it at tomorrow’s faculty meeting. At least, all that you are free to tell us.”

  Nell handed me a stack of telephone messages. “Philip Lewis has called twice. Says he wants to see you the minute you get to campus.”

  I was still in a somber mood and very tired as I walked across campus toward Philip Lewis’s office.

  “Red, are you okay?” It was Howard Evans rushing across the lawn to meet me.

  “I’m fine, Howard. Thank you. But I’m heading to an urgent meeting with the president, so I can’t stop right now.”

  “Isn’t it astonishing about McCready?” Howard was flushed with excitement. I nodded and turned again toward the administration building. Howard kept pace with me. “I mean, frankly, I for one am glad McCready’s gone. But it’s not very good for our university’s reputation to have our provost charged with…what was the charge the television reporter said…‘abduction with intent to defile.’ That’s pretty heavy, isn’t it?”

  “There are still some questions about the provost’s intent.”

  “McCready must be mentally ill, don’t you think?” Howard called after me.

  I did.

  As it turned out, so did Philip Lewis. The university president, sitting at his desk absorbed in thought when I was shown in, struggled to his feet. “Oh, my dear,” he said.

  I took his hands in both of mine and told him to sit again, while I took the chair opposite his. Philip Lewis looked ghastly. His face was gray and his hands shook, but his tone was reassuring and strong. “You’ve had to go through so many trials, Red. I hope they’ve made you strong, even as they must have made you sick to your stomach.”

  “I’m still here, Dr. Lewis. Although I admit there have been times recently when I felt like giving up.”

  “It’s time you called me Philip.”

  I started to object but he raised his hand. “I’m not very well these days. Give an old man his way.” He brought his hand up to rub his chin. “Did you know McCready was mentally ill?”

  “Not until last night. I just thought he was cruel and difficult.”

  Philip pressed his jaw with his fingers and shook his
head.

  “Would you like me to pour you some water?”

  “Thank you.”

  I left my chair and walked over to the carafe on the conference table. Two glasses were beside it and I poured into both. A folder titled “Dean of Journalism” sat next to the glasses.

  The president drank eagerly from the glass of water, then paused to catch his breath. “I didn’t know McCready was cruel, or difficult, much less sick enough to kidnap a woman. My God, how I admired that man. He had a wonderful reputation as a dean at his previous university. Great leader, they said. They thought the world of him. His research had made him famous.” Philip drank again. “The search committee raved about him. I knew him slightly and thought he was brilliant, would make a great university president someday. I must have been much foggier than I realized when I interviewed him.”

  “We all misjudge sometimes. Myself included.”

  Philip smiled. “But you redeemed yourself and changed course when you had to. And, the ability to change, my dear Red, is a characteristic of great leaders.”

  My heart rate increased. Maybe I still had a chance for the job described in that folder on the table.

  “Which leads me to a much happier subject,” Philip said. “Even though I admired Ezra McCready, I was never going to let him give the dean’s job to anyone but you.” He rose from his desk and made his way over to the table. He picked up the folder.

  “Even Manny Lorenzo?”

  “Manny’s a great guy and a splendid scholar. I just spoke to him an hour ago. I urged him to come here as interim provost and then to apply for the permanent job.”

  “Fantastic. Did he say he would?”

  “He said he would. He really wants to come here. If I could avoid the protocols around here, I would just outright hire him now. But you know the faculty will insist on a new search.”

  “Manny will make a sensational provost.”

  Philip turned toward me with the folder but lost his balance and started to fall. I caught him in my arms. We held each other in a tight hug for several seconds. When he recovered his balance, he made his way back to his desk but remained standing. He handed me the folder. “Dr. Solaris, I hope you will accept the position of permanent Dean of Journalism. Nothing would make me happier.”

  I hugged him again. “Nothing would make me happier either.”

  He sat down in his desk chair with a loud sigh. “I have more news. News I think you will like. Fred Stoddard has agreed to come out of retirement and take over my job. He’ll serve as interim president.”

  Fred and Manny. I was elated. At last, a university management team I could respect and admire.

  “I wish you didn’t have to leave.”

  “So do I. But I’m on my last legs. And with your promotion and Fred’s return, I leave knowing my university is in excellent hands. That’s a good way for an old man to feel. That’s what I call a good final act.”

  “Before you go, may I ask one favor?”

  “You may.”

  “I’m on the sexual assault policy committee. We’ve been really struggling with trying to come up with a policy we can all agree upon.”

  “I’ll talk to Stoddard and Lorenzo tomorrow when they arrive for our first joint meeting. My view of the sexual assault policy is that I want it soon, but I also want it right.”

  Nell was jubilant. “Can we plan a party? At least cake and coffee here at the school?”

  “Maybe tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Oh, I’m not going to be here tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, Wynan wants to sell his place in Las Vegas and move up here and I agreed to help him tomorrow afternoon. He’s looking for a house that would be large enough that Jamie and Marilyn could stay with him until they graduate.”

  Marvelous how some things work out.

  I picked up my cell phone and saw a text from Bill Verden. “Never doubt my ability to predict the future. Long live the Queen.”

  Finally I dialed Joe’s number, but got his voicemail. I left him a message about my new job and tried to sound conciliatory about his anger with me. But, damn it, I didn’t feel apologetic for discovering that road, that house, and leading him to Jamie’s rescue. More and more—even if sometimes I was a wretched fool—I’d begun to trust my instincts, and I wished Joe Morgan could too.

  The thing was, my instincts also told me to trust my deepening feelings for Joe Morgan, and I was scared he didn’t reciprocate.

  Karen Milton’s was the last phone call of a tiring and exhilarating day. “Congratulations,” she said. “It’s all over campus, you know.”

  “Thank you. How goes it in your part of the universe?”

  “Badly, I’m afraid to say. A second girl has filed a complaint against Peter Delacroix. She went to the police and to me. It happened the other night. Same routine—Delacroix borrows a book from a girl, then waits for the opportune moment to return it to her when she’s alone in her room. He brings the book along with a flask of drugged alcohol.”

  “Unbelievable. Shy, sweet Peter Delacroix. What’s going to happen to him this time?”

  “The DA has agreed to prosecute him. He’s about to get his politically well-connected ass fried.”

  “Senator Mom notwithstanding?”

  “You got it.”

  I drove home through the main street of Landry, then past the police station, hoping to spot Joe’s car. I hoped we could talk. But his car was nowhere in sight.

  Sadie Hawkins was out of town visiting her son, and I faced the prospect of celebrating my new job alone. The sun was setting and the sky looked as if it was on fire. The buildings and houses of Landry were bathed in peach-colored light. Our wide open sky in late summer and early fall provided amazing sunsets that guaranteed I would never leave, even if I ended up living in Nevada as a solitary single woman.

  By the time I pulled into my driveway, the sun had gone down, leaving behind a scrim of blue and purple. Charlie greeted me at the door. I was standing by the sink, opening a can of dog food and looking out at my backyard when I heard a familiar sound. Joe’s car in the driveway.

  I gave Charlie his food and waited. Then I couldn’t stand it a moment longer. We had to make up from our quarrel.

  I pushed open the kitchen door and almost hit Joe, who was coming in with a large carton in his arms. He put the carton down on the butcher-block island in the center of the kitchen. He took me in his arms. “Congratulations, sweetheart. I knew you were going to get that job.”

  “How’d you find out?”

  “Your message. Besides, it’s all over town. Nell told Wynan who told Norm, who...” I stopped him with my mouth and we lingered there.

  There were no apologies. That was Joe. And no, we were not going to talk about his earlier angry remarks. Not yet.

  I looked in the carton. Joe’s enormous soup pot was nestled next to his favorite cast iron skillet, items he sometimes brought over to cook at my house, but items he always took back to his apartment. Precious possessions. Upright and next to the pot was a leather case that I knew was filled with his extra sharp chef’s knives.

  Joe removed the skillet from the carton and began to wander around the kitchen. “I’m wondering where to hang this,” he said, his eyes roaming the walls.

  “And I’ll need part of that lower cupboard for the soup pot.”

  I had a steel rack with hooks over the sink. Joe removed an old fry pan of mine and put up his cast-iron treasure. He went back to the carton and pulled out a special knife rack. He held it against the wall near the sink where I assumed he wanted to install it.

  I stifled the temptation to applaud. “If you leave this stuff here, how are you going to cook at your place?”

  Joe shrugged. “I’m not. I figure with the demands of your new job, I’ll be doing all my cooking here fro
m now on.” Charlie let out a low groan of delight. Never doubt that dogs understand English.

  Joe headed back to the open kitchen door.

  “Now what?” I asked.

  “My clothes.”

  I knelt down and pretended to shift pots in the lower cupboard. Then I stopped, closed my eyes and put my hands over my mouth, trying hard to conceal a triumphant grin.

  THE END

  (Book #2)

  THE RED QUEEN RULES

  A Red Solaris Mystery #3

  Bourne Morris

  Copyright

  THE RED QUEEN RULES

  A Red Solaris Mystery

  Part of the Henery Press Mystery Collection

  First Edition | December 2016

  Henery Press

  www.henerypress.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, including Internet usage, without written permission from Henery Press, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Copyright © 2016 by Bourne Morris

  Cover art by Stephanie Chontos

  This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Trade Paperback ISBN-13: 978-1-63511-121-7

  Digital epub ISBN-13: 978-1-63511-122-4

  Kindle ISBN-13: 978-1-63511-123-1

  Hardcover ISBN-13: 978-1-63511-124-8

  Printed in the United States of America

  For my grandchildren.

  May they forever enjoy freedom of speech.