I said, “I’m working for the Hamilton County Sheriff’s Department. This is not a personal matter of any kind.”
“Very well, I’ll sue the lot of you. You imbeciles have the wrong man. My Dudley would…would never hurt anyone.” She clenched her jaw, struggling to keep her tears in check. I truly felt bad for her. I could only imagine the pain she was going through.
I sighed. “I’m sorry things had to happen the way they did, Mrs. Cooper.”
“I never understood why he insisted on befriending someone like you,” she said, her tone frosty.
Flicking my eyes at Rob, I grimaced. To Mrs. Cooper, I said, “For what it’s worth…I don’t think your son is capable of murder.”
“If you’re working with the police, then do something about it!”
“I’m not working that case. The detectives on his case are good at what they do, and the evidence will show the real truth. It takes time. He hasn’t been charged with anything, so there’s no reason to panic yet.”
Evidently finished with me, Mrs. Cooper turned her icy glare on Rob. “I’m shocked at your disloyalty, Mr. Larson. My husband will hear about this. Good day.” She turned and stalked away, her expensive heels clacking on the wood floor.
Darting a furtive glance at her sister, Vivian Harris leaned toward me and whispered, “If you want to know the real truth, I suggest you look no further than George Cooper.” Without another word, she hurried to catch up with her sister.
Dumbfounded, I watched them leave the restaurant, wondering what all that was about. Rob seemed as confused as I did. Our food came at that point, but neither of us made a move to eat anything. The tension from Mrs. Cooper’s tirade still hung heavy in the air between us.
I murmured, “I’m sorry if being with me is going to cost you a job.”
Rob shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. He’s a high maintenance client, and if I lose him, it won’t hurt my business.” He touched my cheek. “I’m not going to choose that asshole George Cooper over you.”
Smiling, I said, “Thanks. Normally I’m a boring college professor. I wish we’d met a couple of weeks ago, before my life went to Crazytown.”
“It doesn’t bother me. I like a little excitement in my life.”
“Um…I need to make a quick call.” Grabbing my phone, I hurried to the hallway by the restrooms and dialed Baxter.
He answered, “Hey, not taking my calls? I thought you were on your lunch break.”
“You know my schedule? That’s pretty stalker-like,” I joked.
Chuckling, he said, “That hurts, Ellie. I called to ask you if you know the director of Fenton Hall, Tony Dante.”
“Yes, unfortunately.”
“Why ‘unfortunately’?”
“He’s a creeper.”
Baxter laughed again. “Is that your professional opinion?”
“It’s everyone’s opinion. He hits on anything in a skirt. The younger, the better. Why do you want to know?”
“I ran across a big, unflattering story on him from a few weeks ago in the online version of the Ashmore Voice, along with a video of him getting angry with Eli Vanover over it.”
“Right. He got moved from Harris Hall to Fenton Hall at the start of the school year. Everyone thinks it’s because Fenton is an all-male dorm, which means no tail for him to chase. He’s related to someone on the Board of Trustees, so that’s why he got moved instead of canned. Why are you interested in him?”
“Because out of the sixty-seven idiotic videos I watched on that vlog, Tony Dante is the only person who had an altercation with Vanover and has an assault charge on his record. I think that makes him worth talking to.”
“Knock yourself out.”
“With you.”
“No thanks.” I changed the subject before he had a chance to try to talk me into it. “I thought you’d want to know I just got accosted by Judith Cooper, Dudley’s mom.”
“What did she want?”
“To rip me a new one for tricking her baby boy into getting arrested. I blame you.”
“Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all.
“Anyway, her sister, Tyler Harris’s mom, was with her. After Mrs. Cooper was done berating me, Vivian Harris told me if I wanted to know the truth about Vasti’s murder, I should look at George Cooper.”
“Hmm. I wonder if she knows something or if she heard we questioned her son and is trying to throw the heat off him.”
“That’s your job to figure out. I’m just the messenger. I have to go.”
“We’ll do some more digging on George Cooper, too. We have lots to do today, so wrap up your date and get over here.”
“How did you know I was on a date?” I demanded.
“I’m a detective, remember?”
“I have class until two. I can’t skip again. I’ll head to the station afterward.” I ended my call with Baxter and hurried back to Rob.
“We’re going to have to cut lunch short, aren’t we?” he asked, his expression registering disappointment.
“No,” I replied, covering his hand with mine. “This is important to me.”
He broke into a stellar smile. “We’re on the same page, then.”
We ate our food in silence for a few moments.
Rob set down his fork. After hesitating for a moment, he said, “Mrs. Cooper mentioned that you lured Dudley into a trap. What did she mean by that?”
I didn’t want to say too much, but I also didn’t want him to think I was some siren who delighted in luring men to their doom. “I can’t go into detail, but at the request of the Sheriff’s Department, I agreed to meet with Cooper. They had a warrant out for his arrest, and I helped, um, facilitate his capture.”
“That sounds dangerous. I thought you gathered evidence and processed it in a lab.”
“I do. But since I was already involved, it seemed to be the simplest and safest way to apprehend him.”
“Not for you,” he said, his face creased with worry. “Besides, I thought you were working on the other murder case.”
“I am, but…I help where I’m needed.” I changed the subject. “This food is really great.”
He wasn’t ready to let the conversation go. “Sorry, one more thing. Vivian Harris mentioned Mayor Cooper to you in connection to that girl’s murder.” He shifted in his seat, seeming to wrestle with what he was about to say. “I’ve seen the girl before…at Mayor Cooper’s place.”
Goosebumps popped out on my arms. “Was she with Dudley or George?”
He blew out a breath before answering, “George.”
“And what were they doing exactly?” I asked.
Looking away from me and shaking his head, he said, “I’m sure you can guess.”
So Vasti wasn’t blowing smoke up Cooper’s ass when she told him about having an affair with his father. Baxter had been right about the “grain of truth.” This was a lot more than a grain, though.
Rob asked, “Are the murders connected somehow? If Dudley is a person of interest in your case, would that make George a person of interest in the cases as well, given his relationship with the dead girl?”
I shook my head. “I have no idea, and I really shouldn’t speculate.”
“Does that mean you still don’t have a suspect in your case?”
Placing my hand on his, I smiled. “I’m sorry. I can’t say any more. With switching over to teaching, I’d forgotten how difficult it is to talk to someone about your day and not actually be able to tell them anything about it. That’s another tough part of the job—making sure you keep your mouth shut.”
“I didn’t mean to pressure you.” He gave me a sheepish grin. “I was thinking of myself—wondering if I was going to have to end up testifying against one of my clients. That could be bad for business.”
“You’re right, it could. Sorry to crap on your day.”
He shrugged. “I should have known better than to take on a politician as a client, right?”
We both laug
hed and went back to eating. Finishing soon after, we headed back to campus.
When Rob pulled up to the curb next to the science building, I said to him, “I hope all the nonsense at the restaurant didn’t scare you away.”
He gave me a dubious look. “Do I look like a guy who scares easily?”
Giving his solid bicep a squeeze, I replied, “Not at all.”
“You know, I protect the good guys from the bad guys, too.” He chuckled. “Or rather, I protect the rich guys from the bad guys.”
I laughed. “And in some cases, the rich guys might be the bad guys.”
Rob grew serious, placing his hand on my cheek. “I know I have no right to meddle in your life, especially since we just met, but…I like you, and I care about your safety. Please don’t mess with George Cooper. He’s well-connected, if you get what I’m saying.”
I did, and it didn’t surprise me to hear he had ties to organized crime. “I’ll be careful. Anytime I’m out in the field, I’m with one of the detectives, and he looks out for me.” I thought back to yesterday at the rock yard and stifled a shiver. “Besides, when this is over, I get to go back to being a mild-mannered professor with a lot of free time on her hands.”
He grinned. “I’m looking forward to it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
When I got done with my final class for the day, Baxter was waiting outside my office.
“I thought I was meeting you at the station,” I said.
“I wanted us to talk to Tony Dante together,” he replied.
“And that was why I was going to meet you at the station—to get out of talking to Tony Dante. I’ve successfully avoided him for months.”
“But you’re the center of my evil plan. I’m going to let Dante get mesmerized by ogling you, then hit him with a bunch of tough questions. I figure he’ll slip and tell me something he didn’t mean to say.”
“Unless he’s decided I’m too old to pique his interest, the sick bastard. And for the record, I’m disturbed that you’re using me as a pawn, again.”
“I’ll shoot him if he tries to get fresh with you.”
I brightened at the thought. “Promise?”
From the science building, Fenton Hall was only a short walk across one of Ashmore’s lush, green lawns. We found Tony Dante in the dorm’s game room. Tony was a little man, thin and puny, making a pathetic attempt to grow a goatee. He was my age, but tried to dress like a college student, probably so he would seem accessible. Or, more likely, so he could blend in and hook up with girls before they realized how old he was. At this particular moment he was busy chatting up a young girl who seemed to want nothing more than to get back to a game of ping-pong with her friends. He had her backed into a corner.
I gestured to him and said to Baxter, “See what I mean?”
“I’ll handle this.” Marching over to Tony, he put a hand on his shoulder and wheeled him around. “Maybe you should talk to someone more your own age, Mr. Dante.” He flashed his badge.
Tony’s eyes grew wide. “She’s eighteen, Officer.”
“It’s Detective. Detective Nick Baxter. We need to speak with you in private.”
Relaxing a bit and looking me up and down, Tony said, “I wouldn’t mind a private conversation with the lovely professor.”
I had made it clear to Tony when I first came to Ashmore that his advances toward me were unwelcome. Perhaps he needed a refresher.
I said, “Keep talking, assclown. Detective Baxter promised me he’d shoot you if you came on to me.”
Tony dropped the act and led us to his office. He gestured for us to sit down, still keeping a wary eye on Baxter’s gun. Judging from his reaction, he might think twice about approaching me on campus ever again.
Baxter said, “Let’s cut to the chase.” He pulled a photo out of the folder he had brought and shoved it across the desk toward Tony.
Taking one look at the photo, Tony whimpered and shrunk back in his seat. I didn’t blame him. The photo was a close-up I had taken of Eli Vanover’s face and neck while he was still hanging at his apartment. Baxter wasn’t wasting any time with this interview.
“Do you know who this is?” asked Baxter.
The color had drained from Tony’s face, except for a touch of green. “It’s hard to recognize him with the…with the—” Diving down next to his desk, he sunk his head into the nearest trash can and retched.
I flicked my eyes at Baxter, wondering if his crime scene gag reflex would be triggered at the sight and smell of someone else vomiting. He seemed to be fine, even going as far as to stand over Tony and demand, “Did you kill Eli Vanover?” Well, that was one way to interrogate a suspect.
Tony dragged his head out of the trash can and stared up at Baxter. “What? No,” he croaked, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.
“Are you sure? Because I’m thinking maybe you got mad about the article he wrote about you in the Voice. Maybe his allegations about you getting friendly with female students hit too close to home and you wanted to silence him.”
Tony made no move to get up off his knees. “No!” he cried. “I didn’t kill him! I swear.”
Baxter bent closer to him, growling, “But maybe you slapped him around a little and coerced him into hanging himself. I wouldn’t put it past someone with an assault charge.”
Tony was full-on crying now. “No! I didn’t do anything to Eli. Yes, I have an assault charge, but…but that was from a bar fight I didn’t even win!” He turned to me, pleading, “Aren’t you going to do anything about this? Like at least play good cop or something?”
“Hmm…” Pretending to mull over his question, I rifled through the bowl of candy on his desk and came up with a mini Kit Kat. After popping it into my mouth and taking my dear sweet time to chew it, I looked up at Baxter and then back down at Tony. “Nope. I think he’s doing a great job. You’re just lucky he’s not beating a confession out of you.” I shook my head, enjoying the fact that Tony looked like he was about to puke again. “The last guy we talked to… Ooh. His face doesn’t look so good anymore.”
Baxter had to cough to cover up a laugh over my blatant lie.
Tony curled up into a ball on the floor.
“Where were you between noon and two on Tuesday?” Baxter asked him.
He lifted his head slightly. “Tuesday? I was…I was…having lunch at the coffeehouse across the street and…then I had a meeting at the Residence Life office.”
“Can anyone corroborate your story?”
“Yes—Rachel Miller.”
I stared at him. “My sister?”
He had the gall to smirk at me. “Yes. I had a lovely lunch with her—”
“You what?” I shouted, leaping out of my chair and lunging toward him. “You horny freak show, if you even thought about—”
“Whoa,” Baxter said, holding me back by both arms. He whispered in my ear, “There has to be a good cop when we do good cop/bad cop.”
Struggling to get free, I said between gritted teeth, “Give me your gun. I’ll shoot him myself.”
Baxter said to a still-trembling Tony, “I think we have what we need. You keep your nose clean, Mr. Dante.” He collected the photo and his file and dragged me out of the room.
Baxter released me, and I stalked ahead of him down the hall. He muttered, “Damn. Remind me never to hit on your sister.”
“Shut up.”
He chuckled. “I’m kidding, of course. I have to say that up until you lost your crap, you played it perfectly. How in the hell did you manage to eat something with the stench of vomit in that room? I had to breathe through my mouth nearly the whole time.”
My anger fading, I replied, “Nate is a puker, and it comes on fast. Many times, I have nothing to catch it with besides my own hands.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“True, but it’s made me immune to the smell. Honestly, I’m impressed you didn’t join him.”
“Ha, ha. Decomp is my only trigger.”
“Wh
y did you go for the throat in there? Did you think he was guilty?” I asked.
“Nah, I was just messing with him. I only needed his alibi, but it was fun to watch that douchebag squirm. Someone needed to bring him down a peg.”
We were back outside now. I said, “I need to have a heart-to-heart with my sister before I head to the station.”
“Take your time.”
I looked at my watch. It was almost two thirty. My sister was done for the day and would be picking up Nate soon, so I headed for the daycare building. I sat on a bench and waited, and after a few minutes I spotted her and a group of her friends walking my way. They were all so vivacious and happy, laughing and smiling as if they hadn’t a care in the world. Sometimes I wished things had worked out differently for my sister. Tonight, her friends would party and have fun into the wee hours of the morning. Rachel’s college-aged fun, on the other hand, would end the minute she walked into the daycare building. From then until Monday morning, she would be a full-fledged adult mom. Granted, Nate was the best thing that ever happened to either of us, and I couldn’t imagine life without him. But sometimes I wished she could be exactly like her peers, if only for a short time.
She stopped in front of me, and her friends continued on their way. “Why are you here? Is something wrong? Is Nate okay?” she asked, panic creeping into her voice.
“Nothing is wrong. I didn’t mean to scare you. I need to talk to you for a minute.” I patted the bench next to me.
Rachel sat down, a suspicious look in her eyes. “This isn’t going to be a fun talk is it?”
“Not especially. I talked to Tony Dante this afternoon.”
She shrugged. “And?”
I was hoping for something more along the lines of, “Why were you talking to that loser?” instead of her noncommittal response.
I said, “He told me the two of you had lunch this week.”
“A couple of times, actually.”
Shit. Tony Dante was Rachel’s new guy. Now that I thought about it, she had never told me his name, and I had assumed he was a student. My stomach started churning, and I tried desperately to keep calm. “Is he the one you’ve been talking about? The guitarist you’ve been hanging out with?”
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