by Frankie Bow
I started my car, moved it to a shady spot, lowered the windows and turned the engine off. Then I took a deep breath as I pulled up that professor rating site on my phone. My stomach churned with foreboding, and the agonizingly slow connection didn’t help. When the page finally loaded, I had to stare at it for a few seconds to make sure I was reading it correctly.
My average rating was 4.9. Out of five. Encouraged, I gathered the courage to read the comments. My numbers were high, but my reviews were…inventive.
She shot a man in Reno, just because he asked for extra credit.
The lectures and the textbook have nothing to do with chemistry. And forget trying to do experiments in class. Worst chemistry class ever.
Hard class, not the best if your just hear to get your ticket punched.
Where had I just seen that? About students who are in college not to learn, but to “get their tickets punched—”?
It was in the Island Confidential article I had just been reading in Tatsuya’s Moderne Beauty. The exact phrase. Was the mysterious muckraker behind Island Confidential a student of mine?
I browsed through the ratings. There were pages and pages of them. All with high numbers, all posted within the previous ten days, and most of them weird. Who was creative and determined enough to leave all those ratings? My troubled ex-student Bret, logging on from whatever accommodations the State of California had provided him? I was about to check Emma’s ratings when I realized I’d already killed more than enough time. I got into gear, backed out, and headed up the hill for my guitar lesson.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
As I approached Emma’s front door I could hear an argument in progress. A male voice—Emma’s brother Jonah? Her husband Yoshi?—grumbled indistinctly, in counterpoint to Emma’s yelling.
“Yah, so?” This was Emma. “There’s still the Federal laws, you dummy. I’m in enough trouble already, in case you never noticed. You live under my roof, you gotta respect my rules.”
Jonah, then. I could see this argument going on indefinitely if I didn’t interrupt them. I knocked on the door. It flew open, and Emma stood there, scowling.
“Your hair looks weird.” Emma stomped away, leaving me to close the door and follow her inside. Jonah got up from the kitchen table when he saw me, and quietly led the way to the laundry room.
The guitar lesson was uneventful. Jonah was even less talkative than usual. I knew Tatsuya had meant well when he suggested Jonah as a romantic prospect, but I couldn’t see it. And besides, as much as I love Emma as a friend, I’m not sure I’d want her as my sister-in-law.
When the lesson was over, I came out of the laundry room to find Emma at the kitchen table. She was sitting in front of a nearly empty bottle of wine. I found a coffee mug in her cabinet, sat down next to her, and poured the rest of the bottle out for myself. Jonah retrieved a beer from the fridge and joined us. The three of us sat at the kitchen table and drank quietly.
“They wanna do a plea deal,” Emma said, finally.
Jonah inhaled as if he was about to say something.
“Shut up, Jonah.”
“What are they offering?” I asked.
“Twenty-five hundred dollar fine.”
“Well, maybe that wouldn’t be too—”
“And ten years in prison.”
I thought I’d misheard her.
“You didn’t just say ten years?”
“Yeah. That’s what I said.”
“Ten years in prison? Emma, what about your career? How do they think you’re supposed to keep your research program going without access to your lab? Will the university let you teach your classes online?”
Emma glared at me.
“Okay, I guess those aren’t the most important things. What does your lawyer say about all of this?”
“Feinman thinks I should take the deal.”
“He does?”
Emma nodded glumly.
“But you didn’t do it, Emma. You didn’t kill anyone.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Emma got up to get another bottle of wine from the cupboard. “Nobody cares.”
“But they don’t have any evidence at all to point to you. I don’t understand—”
“Someone heard her threatening him, that’s why,” Jonah said. “There’s a witness.”
“But Emma didn’t threaten anyone. I was right there with her. Right, Emma?”
“Alls I said was I hoped he choked on a waffle.”
“I remember. But it was a wish, not a threat. I wonder who ratted you out? Emma, I don’t have class today. Do you want to—”
“I just wanna be alone.”
Jonah stood up from the kitchen table, dropped his empty beer bottle into the recycling pail, and disappeared into his room.
“Sorry, Molly.” Emma closed her eyes and propped her forehead on her hand. “I’m not good company today.”
I scooted the chair back and stood up.
“I can leave if you’d rather be by yourself.”
I didn’t believe Emma genuinely wanted to be alone right now, but I wanted to show her I respected her space.
“Nah, don’t go,” she said. “Sit down. Have some more wine. Distract me. I see you got your hair done at Tatsuya’s today. Any beauty parlor gossip?”
“Not really. Here’s some interesting news, though. Remember the plan to use our online ratings to evaluate us?”
Emma took a big gulp from her wine mug.
“Is this supposed to make me feel better about going to prison?”
“No, listen. I was worried about it, and I just checked my ratings. I have a whole bunch of five out of fives.”
“Really? I thought your online ratings were horrible.”
“They were. I don’t know what happened.”
“What about mines?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t have time to check yours.”
Emma stood up, left the kitchen, and came back holding a small tablet computer. She tapped on the surface, knit her eyebrows, and then tapped some more.
“I have a five-point-oh.” She sank back into her chair, looking dazed. “A freakin’ five out of five.”
“You have a perfect five? I only have a four-point-nine. Emma, that’s great.”
“Yeah, lotta good it’s gonna do me now.” She flicked her finger on the screen to scroll down the page.
“Wait, what? I do not dissolve students in acid! Not that I—whoa, this is so weird, Molly.”
“I know. It’s bizarre. But remember, the plan to use the online evaluations for our pay and promotions? They’re only going to use the numbers, not the comments. And the numbers are high.”
“So who do you think wrote these?”
“I don’t know. I thought it might be one of my students, but then why would they do yours too? You know what, though. We should have been doing this for each other all along.”
Emma sighed.
“Yeah, those five-star reviews are gonna be super helpful when I’m rotting in prison.”
“I’m working on that,” I said.
“You are?”
“Yes. Iker and I, we’ll fix this.”
I had no idea how. But I didn’t tell Emma that.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
Iker sat across from me at my newly cleared desk, his binder open in front of him. He looked glum.
“So Linda Wilson was in on it,” I said. “Is that what you’re telling me?”
“It appears to be the case.” Iker sighed. “It seems our colleagues have colluded. It is a great disappointment.”
“More than a disappointment. One of them ended up dead. Dividing up the big purchases into smaller ones, what was it called?”
“Parceling.” Iker’s tone was mournful. “Sometimes it is called bundling.”
“It doesn’t seem like something Kent could’ve cooked up by himself. It must have been Linda’s idea.”
“To join a conspiracy of thieves is dangerous. We know of two. Perhaps there are more.”
“Any thoughts about the watch?” I asked. “Linda must have known about Kent and Marshall. Maybe Linda was jealous. What’s the term you guys use? Information asymmetry?”
“Please,” Iker said. “That is the economists. I am an accountant.”
“Oh, sorry.”
“Either Marshall Dixon or Linda Wilson might have had the motive of jealousy,” Iker said. “And let us not forget, there are also the husbands.”
“Good point about the husbands. Oh, this is hopeless. Just about anyone could have a motive.”
“That is not so. You, Molly, do not have a motive to kill the music instructor Kent Lovely.”
“Well, Kent was annoying. He wouldn’t stop with the gross innuendo, and he insisted on speaking Italian to me, even though I kept telling him I’m Albanian. And you—well, I actually can’t imagine you killing anyone, Iker. So I guess you’re off the hook.”
“This idle speculation is not useful. We are not officers of the law, Molly.”
“No, but Emma Nakamura is my best friend. And the way things are going, it’s going to be bad for her.”
“You do not trust justice to be done?”
“No, Iker, I do not. Maybe you don’t know yet. They arrested her. It’s ridiculous. Emma is not a monster. I don’t care what her students say.”
“I did not realize it had come to this point.” Iker paused to absorb the information. “Molly, what if Emma is indeed the murderer of Kent Lovely?”
“Emma is not a poisoner. I’m one hundred percent sure. If she were a murderer, she’d be more the I-want-my-face-to-be-the-last-thing-you-see-before-you-die type.”
“Yes. You are correct. Poisoning is not in Emma’s nature.”
“You know what? We need to talk to—” I jerked my thumb at the wall separating my office from Rodge Cowper’s. “He was sitting right next to Kent when it happened. And last time we tried to talk to him, we were interrupted. Let’s go, Iker. Let’s talk to him now.”
Iker looked up, startled.
“But we have already spoken to Roger Cowper. I do not understand the reason for this disagreeable suggestion.”
“Please. Come with me. Before I lose my nerve. Otherwise I’ll have to go by myself. There’s one thing we never asked him about. The missing pills. Do you really think that he got rid of them because of his sense of propriety?”
Iker sighed.
“Yes. I too am curious about this. Very well. Let us go.”
Rodge greeted us cheerfully, and invited Iker and me to sit on the lumpy metal-framed futon couch. I sat, but Iker walked to the curio cabinet to examine the assortment of carved bowls and heathen figurines. He did not touch any of it.
“Doctor Cowper, you have many curiosities displayed here. But one item is not in evidence.” Iker paused, perhaps to let Rodge sweat a little. And I noticed Rodge really was sweating.
I couldn’t see Iker’s expression. He was facing the curio cabinet.
“You are a jocular fellow.” Iker was still turned away from us. “A man who enjoys a humorous story. You use this small bottle of pills as a starter of conversation, and you are fond of telling the tale of its purchase abroad. You do not consume the contents, however. You use the thing as a prop, an amusement only. But after Professor Lovely’s death, the pills are not there. We must ask ourselves, why does Doctor Cowper no longer wish to display his humorous pills?”
Rodge fidgeted. “They were past their expiration date.”
“The bottle was sealed,” I said. “It was just a conversation piece. Even if there had been an expiration date—and there wouldn’t necessarily be one, if you really bought it overseas—why would it matter?”
“Why are you so sure the bottle was sealed?” Rodge challenged me.
“It was sealed. I picked up the bottle. I remember.”
“How do you remember something like that?”
“Perhaps you should tell us what you have been keeping secret,” Iker said.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
Rodge opened his mouth and then closed it again. He ran his beefy hands through his thick grey hair, which left him looking more, not less, rumpled.
“Rodge, Kent was our colleague, but he was your good friend. Aren’t you even a little curious about what happened to him? Unless you know what happened to him, and you aren’t telling anyone.”
“’Course I wanna know what happened. I think about it all the time. Hey, you think Dixon did it? She’s kind of a hard nose. Maybe when she found out about all that financial stuff—”
“Doctor Marshall Dixon…” Iker gave a reflexive little bow of respect as he spoke her name. “…is responsible for safeguarding the good name of our university. Are you intimating in this capacity, might she have wanted to eliminate Kent Lovely in order to defuse an embarrassing situation?”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying. Dixon has a motive.”
“But for Doctor Dixon to commit this murder?” Iker said. “This does not make sense. Dr. Dixon is a shrewd woman. If the story in the newspaper is an embarrassment, one does not keep this story at a high profile by poisoning the miscreant in public. One avoids taking action, and trusts the fickle readers of the newspaper will soon turn their attention to a different scandal.”
“Well,” Rodge countered, “who else wanted to get rid of Kent?”
“Perhaps you believe it was Emma who avenged the apparent injustice inflicted upon her brother, Jonah?”
“What? No,” Rodge protested. “Not Emma.”
“She has a knowledge of biology, and she can easily acquire chemicals. Hers is not such a gentle nature. Perhaps Emma Nakamura could be capable of such a thing, as the policemen believe.”
“What policemen?” Rodge apparently hadn’t heard about Emma’s arrest.
“But Emma did not do this thing,” Iker said. “Even she does not have such a hot head as this. Committing such a murder would not help her brother, even if someone had conspired to deprive him of his livelihood.”
“And no one even conspired against Jonah,” I said.
“No indeed,” Iker agreed. “Jonah’s courses were cancelled shortly after he reported Kent Lovely’s wrongdoing, but this was merely a coincidence. In fact those courses had insufficient enrollment. Standard policy was followed in this case. The newspaper report was incorrect in that regard.”
“Well, poisoning is a woman’s crime,” Rodge said. “That’s how come I thought of Marshall Dixon.”
Rodge had been Kent’s patient sidekick. Maybe he was more fed up with Kent than anyone knew. On the other hand, Rodge genuinely seemed to miss Kent. Heaven only knows why. I couldn’t believe Rodge thought it was funny, the way Kent had ransacked the salad bar at Gavin’s. It was just like Kent. Barging in like he owned the place, taking far more than his share. The same way he loaded up his plate at the retreat with the last of the haupia cake. And dallied with not one, but two married women.
And then I realized what was going on. Rodge hadn’t killed Kent. Rodge was protecting Kent.
“I have an idea.” I raised my hand. “Rodge, I think Kent did it to himself.”
“What?” Rodge looked pale.
“He opened your bottle and took the pills. Just like he loaded up at the salad bar, taking more food than he could possibly eat and ruining things for everyone else. I think you warned him not to do it, and he didn’t listen.”
I was bluffing. But I had also never been more sure of anything in my life. I watched Rodge stare at his desk.
“Well?” I normally would never be this confrontational, but my best friend was facing jail time for something she didn’t do. And it was all because Rodge had refused to tell the truth.
He sat and breathed heavily for a few moments before he finally spoke.
“At the retreat,” Rodge said, “when we were about to start eating? Kent said if he lasted more than four hours, don’t seek medical attention, just call the Guinness Book of World Records.”
“I can almost hear him saying it,�
�� I said. “Why did he take them on that particular day, after all of those years they’ve been sitting out in your office?”
Rodge sighed and crossed his arms.
“Kent knew he was gonna get the teaching award. And he wanted to, you know, celebrate after. He had, uh, um, two dates planned for that night.”
“Kent had planned to get the teaching award?” Iker asked Rodge. “How could he be certain of this?”
“Iker, Linda chairs the award committee, so draw your own conclusions. And the press release, which came out right after the retreat, announcing the awards? It had clearly been written in advance, remember? It said Kent accepted the award. Rodge, you knew it was rigged? It didn’t bother you that you didn’t have a chance at the award?” Rodge shrugged.
“Did you know about the watches?”
“The watches?” Rodge repeated.
“Two ladies’ timepieces purchased from Fujioka’s Music and Party Supply,” Iker said. “They were the identical model. One was a platinum finish and the other—”
“Okay, yeah, I guess I knew about the watches.”
“So you knew about Kent’s relationship with Linda Wilson, the person who more or less chooses who gets the teaching award. And about his parallel relationship with Marshall Dixon.”
“Well, I…I don’t want to answer that.”
“I understand,” Iker said. “You wish to be discreet.”
Rodge, pale and fearful, gestured at his lap.
“Molly, Iker, if this gets out, Dixon’ll have my—”
Iker went over to Rodge’s office door, and pushed it shut.
“It’s hard to keep a secret in Mahina,” I said. “People know. Count on it.”
Serena knew what Kent was up to. Now I knew what she meant when she said, you play with fire, you gonna get burned.
“Kent was gonna have a quick—um, appointment with Marshall right before her dinner with Skip Kojima, and you know Linda’s husband, Bob Wilson, was off-island at that historians’ meeting, and so Kent was gonna go on and meet Linda afterward.”