Bitter Past

by Caroline Fardig

  “I know. Like I said when we talked last night, this is a one-time thing. Jayne asked me to do her a favor. Unfortunately, it’s going to take up a lot of my time for the foreseeable future.”

  She smiled. “Just don’t overdo it. You get grouchy if you don’t get your rest.”

  “Understatement of the year,” I said as I stumbled to the bathroom.

  A hot shower made me feel somewhat human again, as did looking through the bag of “breakfast” Nate made for me—a few loose gummy bears and a still-frozen waffle. However, I drove halfway to Carmel before remembering I’d left the swabs of the unknown soil substance back at the station. After speeding all the way back to Noblesville and then to campus, I had to sprint from my car to the science building so I wouldn’t be late for my first class. There was no way I was going to make it through the day without a nap. I had my date with Rob tonight, and I didn’t want to be so tired that I wasn’t good company.

  I could tell from the confused looks on my students’ faces that I wasn’t making a damn bit of sense in class. I couldn’t remember what I’d said, but I knew it couldn’t have been coherent. Finally, someone spoke up.

  A girl in the front row asked, “Professor Matthews, are you okay? You look, like, hung over or something.”

  I forced a smile. “Thanks for your concern, and I apologize if I’m not making sense. I had a…an unforeseen…family issue occur yesterday, and I wasn’t able to get any sleep last night. I’m fine, but I’m exhausted.” It wasn’t exactly a lie because I thought of Jayne as family, and because of her request, I’d had no sleep. Normally, when the word “family” was thrown into a vague comment like that, people didn’t press the issue.

  But today wasn’t a normal day. Another student raised his hand and asked, “Does it have anything to do with Dr. Cooper being arrested for killing Vasti? It’s all over the news.”

  I closed my eyes. The news was out. When a high-profile crime was committed, the Sheriff’s Department always got pressure from county officials and town mayors to rush to catch the suspect so they could assure citizens that the streets were safe again. I was sure that the second Cooper had been arrested, Jayne had called a press conference to announce that the alleged killer was behind bars. I hadn’t had time to watch any television this morning, not that I’d wanted to. This breaking news story would pre-empt local programming for a big chunk of the day.

  My heart aching, I managed to say, “Only the police know the particulars of that…incident. For us to discuss it would be nothing but gossiping, and that is the least productive and most damaging thing we could do. Don’t forget that a suspect isn’t guilty just because he’s been arrested. Guilt is decided at trial by a judge and jury. Not on this campus.”

  A rumble went through the class, and since we only had fifteen minutes left, I ended my lesson early. There was no way I could field another question like that.

  After dismissing my students, I went off in search of Rich Porter. I found him in his chemistry lab, frowning at a beaker filled with a bubbling green liquid, his graying hair sticking up in his signature spiky, mad-scientist style. Infamous for his hobby of experimenting with dangerous chemical reactions, most of the time the man had no eyebrows.

  “Hey, Rich,” I said. “I brought you those samples we talked about earlier.”

  He glanced up at me. “You mean when you woke me up from my beauty sleep?”

  “Right. Sorry about that.”

  “You look like you didn’t get much beauty sleep, yourself.”

  “Is it that bad?” I asked, hurrying to the mirror over his hand-washing sink. “Ooh,” I groaned as I took in the dark circles under my eyes, my pale complexion, and my red, glassy eyes. My hair even looked strange because I was too out of it this morning to style it properly. I was a fright.

  “So what am I analyzing for you, exactly?” he asked.

  “It’s some kind of soil or dust I got off two shoeprints. I need you to determine if it’s the same substance on both swabs. I also need to know what it’s composed of so I can decide which chemical reagent to put on one of the prints to get it to show up better. Dirt isn’t all the same, you know.”

  “I do know,” he said, accepting the container of swabs from me.

  “I need you to sign this chain of custody form. Anything happens to these swabs while they’re in your possession, and I’ll have you thrown in the pokey,” I joked.

  He gave me a withering look. “I’d like to see you try.” After signing the form with a flourish, he said, “So I guess you’re not going to tell me what case you’re working on.”

  “You guess right.”

  Rich shook his head. “The only thing I don’t like about working with law enforcement is that I can’t brag about working with law enforcement. I’m sure there’s a great story behind these swabs, but I’ll never know what it is.”

  “Trust me—the less you know, the better.” I wished I didn’t know so much about what had happened in the last week. Even more so, I wished I hadn’t seen the things I’d seen.

  “Hey, did you hear? They arrested Dudley this morning for Vasti Marais’s murder. Holy shit. I couldn’t believe it when I saw it on the news. You think you know a person…”

  I shrugged. “I heard some students talking about it.”

  “Wait a minute,” he said, eyeing me. “You’re working with the Sheriff’s office on a case. You already knew, didn’t you?”

  “For the record, I’m not working on that particular case. Look, I’m sorry I can’t tell you more. I appreciate you running the tests for me. Can you give me a shout when you’re done?” Not wanting to have to dodge any more questions, I made for the door.

  “Will do. And get some sleep. You look like hell,” he called after me.

  I had nearly an hour until my next class, so I headed to my office to do just that. Closing my blinds and locking my door so I wouldn’t be disturbed, I lay down behind my desk and fell asleep the moment my head hit the hard floor. After what seemed like only a few seconds, an incessant pounding on my door jolted me awake. So much for not being disturbed.

  “I know you’re in there, Matthews. I can see your feet,” snapped a shrill voice. Gianna.

  I must not have closed the blinds as well as I’d thought. I sat up too fast, my head throbbing from my much-needed rest being yanked away from me.

  “Open the door,” she barked, rattling the doorknob.

  I stumbled over to the door and wrenched it open. “What do you want?”

  She looked me up and down with an evil smirk. “Just as I thought. Sleeping off a bender, are we? I have it on good authority that you came to work hung over this morning.” She gave me a condescending smile. “From the look in your eyes, you still might even be drunk. I wanted to see for myself before I went upstairs to tell Dr. Graham.”

  Every ounce of my being wanted to slug her in the face. I settled for some verbal abuse. “Piss off, Gianna. I’m not hung over, and you can go to hell.” I tried to shut the door, but she was too fast.

  Planting a manicured hand on the door to keep it open, she continued, “Oh, well, maybe your eyes are red because you’ve been crying over your dear sweet Dudley getting arrested for murder.”

  I stared at her, my exhaustion overshadowing my anger. “What will it take to get you to go away?”

  She ignored me. “It’s about time he learned he can’t in fact get away with murder just because of who his parents are. I knew that cheating bastard would get what was coming to him sooner or later.”

  My brain was foggy, but I was able to latch onto the one interesting thing she said. “Cheating bastard? Wait. Did you two go out?” I asked, wrinkling my nose in disgust.

  Gianna laughed, her expression turning haughty. “You didn’t know you were getting my sloppy seconds, did you? Your boyfriend and I had a quiet fling last semester.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Damn, woman. Get your facts straight. He’s not my boyfriend, and he never was. A man and a woman can be
friends without it turning sexual.”

  “Not with Dudley. And don’t try to tell me you of all people got the job as Head of Operations for his new research facility without giving him something in return.”

  “You’re delusional. Maybe you should go over to the psych department and have your head examined.”

  Glaring at me, she spat, “Just wait until he cheats on you with a student. Then we’ll see how you feel about it.”

  Realization dawned on me. “Whoa. He cheated on you with Vasti Marais, didn’t he?”

  Her face reddened. Plucking a tiny wisp of lint off her lab coat in order to avert her eyes from me, she said, “The little hussy. Karma kicked both their asses.”

  I needed to call Baxter. Gianna was guilty of something—that was for sure. “Okay, Crazy. You have five seconds to get out of my office before I kick your ass.”

  Startled, she took a step back. I slammed the door and locked it. Grabbing my phone, I dialed Baxter’s number.

  When he answered, I blurted, “I think I know who may have killed Vasti Marais.”

  “Me too. Sterling and I just got done interrogating him,” he replied.

  “Nick, come on. Hear me out.”

  “Shoot.” I could hear the smile in his voice.

  “That was inappropriate.”

  “I thought it was right on target.”

  Groaning, I continued, “As I was saying, one of my fellow professors just came into my office, and she was acting completely insane. She told me that she’d been in a relationship with Cooper last semester and that he had cheated on her with Vasti Marais. She said that karma had kicked both their asses.”

  After a pause, Baxter asked, “That’s it?”

  “The woman is unstable, and I think she’s hiding something!”

  “You don’t sound like yourself. Maybe you should try to take a nap.”

  “I’m fine.” Maybe I was slightly more agitated than normal, but I felt justified given the circumstances.

  “Clearly. You know you’re not working the Marais case, right?”

  I huffed, “Yes, but—”

  “So you know I can’t discuss it with you.”

  “Oh, I see what’s going on here. You can’t discuss the case with me, but it’s okay for me to be the bait so you can catch your suspect.”

  Sighing, he said, “Ellie, come on. You know the rules.”

  “Yes, but I also know that you’re someone who goes above and beyond to make sure that justice gets served. There’s no way you just got done interrogating Dudley Cooper and are still one hundred percent convinced the man is capable of taking a young girl’s life.”

  After a long pause, he grumbled, “What’s the crazy professor’s name?”

  “Gianna Alessi. You’ll find her in the science building.”

  “Okay, I’ll take a few minutes to speak with her. I have to head over to Ashmore this afternoon anyway to talk to the newspaper staff.”

  “Thanks, Nick.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. I was planning on having you help me interview them since you may know some of them. You got Tristan Sellers to talk to you. I figure you may be able to get them to open up as well.”

  “I’d be happy to help you, except that I have about a thousand fingerprints to examine and upload into AFIS. I don’t have enough time in the day to do both.”

  “You’re not getting out of it that easily. I’ll get someone else to do the grunt work so you’ll have time to do the important stuff.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. I had been dreading that task, especially with how tired I was. Staring at a computer screen for hours was sure to have me falling asleep on the job. “In that case, I’m all yours. My last class ends at two.”

  “I’ll be waiting for you at your office.”

  No sooner than I had hung up with Baxter, Samantha started beating on my office door. “Hey, Ellie! Open up!” I opened the door for her, and she swooped in, squealing, “I don’t know where to start! Oh, wait. I do know where to start—with that hottie you stood up last night. What could have possessed you blow him off? You’re lucky I didn’t snag him for myself!”

  Mustering a smile, I said, “It’s nice to hear you approve of Rob, but I had a good reason…” I took a breath. “The Sheriff asked me to consult on a case, and time got away from me.”

  “I heard you cancelled your last class yesterday. I was going to ask you why, but you were nowhere to be found. Is it a big case?” Her eyes bulged out. “Is it Eli Vanover’s murder case?”

  I nodded, hoping she would take the hint and not barrage me with questions.

  She wrinkled her nose. “You can’t talk about it, can you?”

  “No, sorry.”

  Samantha sighed dramatically. “Oh, well. Can we talk about the fact that Dudley got arrested this morning?”

  “You can. I probably shouldn’t.”

  She scoffed, “You’re no fun. You need to quit this police nonsense so I have someone to talk to again.”

  “You could talk to Gianna. She seems to have a definite opinion about Cooper’s arrest.”

  “What does our darling Gianna have to say about the matter?”

  “Well, evidently she was seeing him last semester.”

  She shrugged. “Old news.”

  My eyebrows shot up. “She said they were keeping it quiet. How did you know?”

  “Rich told me.”

  I frowned. “Oh. Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

  “You’re tight with Dudley. I figured you already knew. What else did she say?”

  “She said he cheated on her with…a student.” I didn’t want to be the one to bring up Vasti’s name.

  “Shocker,” she said, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “Dudley nailing a student? Also old news.”

  It was as if I didn’t know Cooper at all. “Oh. I’ve got nothing, then.” I glanced at the clock and hopped out of my seat. “Sorry, I have a class in five minutes.”

  Giving me an apologetic smile, she said, “Sweetie, you’d better find a mirror first. You look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”

  “Maybe I should put a bag over my head and put everyone out of their misery.”

  She came over and gave me a crushing hug. “I know this has to be hard on you. I’m here for you, so if you want to get together and…not talk about anything, just say the word.”

  I laughed. “Thanks, Sam.”

  After she left, I splashed some water on my face and downed a soft drink, then began my next Criminalistics 1 class. “Okay, guys, we’re going to be talking about handwriting analysis today. It’s not used as much nowadays as it was in the past because most of the corresponding we do is typewritten, mainly through email and texting. We don’t write letters anymore, but we do often jot down notes, which can be useful clues in solving crimes. For that reason, we as criminalists need to keep handwriting analysis in our skill set. If you’ll turn your attention to the board, you’ll find several handwriting samples.” I gestured to the dry erase board behind me. “The sample on the left is my handwriting. Of the three samples on the right, two are forgeries and one was written by me. Decide which of the three matches our original sample, and then we’ll discuss how you came to your conclusion.”

  I moved to the side of the room so the students would have an unobstructed view of the board. As they were studying the handwriting samples, I was studying them. Many of them seemed on edge, and some were nervously flicking their eyes back and forth between the board and me. Sooner or later, someone was going to ask a question I didn’t want to answer, most likely about Cooper. Hoping my lesson would hold their attention enough to keep the questions at bay for a while, I went back to stand in front of them.

  “All right. Raise your hand if you think Sample Number One matches my sample.” Several hands went up. “Raise your hand if you think Sample Number Two matches my sample.” The majority of the class raised their hands. “Raise your hand if you think Sample Number Three matches my sample.” Two stu
dents raised their hands. “Most of you were right. Sample Two is my handwriting. Sample One belongs to Dr. Jordan, and Sample Three belongs to Professor Porter. Now we’ll discuss what helped you distinguish the similarities between my two writing samples and discount the other samples. Anyone care to share their thoughts?”

  Not a single hand went up.

  I sighed. “You don’t want to talk about handwriting, do you?”

  They shook their heads and shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

  I walked around to the front of my desk and leaned against it, trying for a casual demeanor. “What do you want to talk about?”

  Every student in the room raised his or her hand.

  At some point we had to address the elephant in the room. I couldn’t put it off forever. “Please keep in mind that I’m not allowed to speak about Vasti Marais’s murder and I will not tolerate gossip about anything that has happened in the past week.”

  A few of them lowered their hands. I called on a young man in the front row who I thought would be likely to have a valid question.

  He asked, “With Dr. Cooper being arrested, will plans for the research facility go forward?”

  I hadn’t given any thought to that. “That’s a decision Dr. Cooper will have to make, but I’m thinking with everything going on at present, plans are on hold.”

  A girl blurted out, “Should we be afraid? Do you think there will be more murders?” Several other students began nodding, their expressions frightened.

  I hesitated. I didn’t want to cause a panic. But since Cooper was the only person in custody, in my opinion, the killer was still out there. Without knowing the killer’s identity, there was no way to predict if he or she would strike again. “Um…there’s no reason to believe that you’re in danger. I think you guys should go about your lives and not be scared all the time, because that’s no way to live. However, you also shouldn’t take any unnecessary risks, either. Always go places in groups and stay alert to your surroundings, especially at night. Lock your doors and carry a can of pepper spray. Basically do what you should be doing anyway to keep yourself safe on campus.”

  I called on another student I could count on to have a decent question.