‘Mind if I join you?’ he asked, grabbing a chair from the next table.
‘Yes!’ Graham and I said, almost in unison.
Luna gave us all a look and said, ‘Of course not. Please do.’
He pulled the chair up and sat down, resting his elbows on the table. ‘So, what have you guys been up to?’ he asked, with what passed – for him – as a pleasant expression on his face.
We were all as silent as Tina Ng.
‘Did you want to get something to eat or drink?’ Luna asked, pointing at the walk-up counter just as Miranda walked in carrying Graham’s laptop and his keys.
She walked up to the table, handed Graham his things and stared daggers at Champion.
‘Yeah,’ he said then pointed at Miranda. ‘Honey, you wanna go get me a cup of coffee? Black.’
‘Get it yourself!’ she said.
Luna looked at her and nodded her head toward the counter. Miranda sighed and headed that direction.
‘Why are you here, Nate?’ Luna asked once Miranda was out of earshot.
‘To be truthful, I saw all y’all sitting here like a happy little family and I thought I’d just join in the fun.’
‘Yeah, I’m buying that,’ Luna said.
‘Actually,’ Champion said, turning to look directly at my son, ‘I’ve been looking for y’all. Well, maybe not y’all, but him.’
‘Leave him alone—’ I started but Luna interrupted.
‘If you’re ready to charge Graham, please let us know so we can contact his attorney to meet us at the station. And of course, Mrs Pugh will have to release some funds for his bail—’
‘If I were to charge him, it would be a capital offense. No bail on a capital offense.’
‘I think Stuart Freeman could make a case for it,’ Luna suggested.
Everyone was being so damn civil I was about to scream. Then Miranda came back with a cardboard cup of coffee – sans lid – and plopped it down hard in front of Champion. The hot liquid shot out and onto one of his hands. He yelped and grabbed the hand, and I had to press my own hand over my mouth to keep from laughing out loud. Miranda sat down next to me and we managed a hidden low five.
‘You did that on purpose!’ Champion spat at Miranda.
She did the big doe-eye routine and said, ‘I’m so sorry! It was truly an accident.’
‘Like hell!’ he said but mostly under his breath. I don’t think he intended to press the issue.
He stood up from the table, knocking his chair backwards. ‘Look, I’m not charging him now but I want to know where he is at all times, you got that, Luna? No running around interviewing witnesses or going into his off-limits dorm room—’
‘You were the one who sent me in there!’ Graham said.
‘Well, just don’t do it again.’
‘Is the city going to reimburse me for an outlay on new clothes?’ I asked sweetly. ‘He’s been in the same ones since Monday and he’s beginning to stink.’
‘Mom!’
Champion looked from me to Graham to Luna and back to me. Then he sighed. ‘Come on. Just you two. I’ll let you into the room but just know I’m going to search everything you take out of there! Do you understand that?’
‘Pretty much,’ Graham said, trying hard to suppress a smile. He didn’t succeed.
Champion had a good arrest and conviction record, maybe the best in the department. So he wasn’t happy with what was going on with the Bishop Alexander case. The guy was such an asshole, Champion thought, that there were probably a long line of good suspects; he just didn’t know all of them. The ones he had – the mother, the best buddy, the ex-girlfriend, the student adviser and the roommate – especially the roommate – weren’t that great. He was really running out of steam on the Pugh kid. He was almost certain now that he didn’t do it. He was also almost certain that he really should have tested the kid’s blood the morning they found the body. Yeah, it was convenient that he came up with all the symptoms of being roofied after Luna brought it up. But, then, that could be legit.
What kid his age pays that much attention to how he’s feeling? You’re tired, you sleep. You’re hungry, you eat. You’re horny, well, you do something about that, too, one way or another. But taking the time to figure out that you’re sleepier than you would usually be, and groggier in the morning than you usually are, isn’t something you think about when you’re in college. Most kids would just think what did I do last night? and blame it on any substance he might have imbibed, be it liquid or of a more pharmaceutical nature. So, yeah. Here he was, Detective Superman, clearing his most promising witness. And taking him to the scene of the crime, for crying out loud.
Champion sighed as he opened the door to McMillan Hall for the kid and his mother. He sighed when he hit the button on the elevator for the fourth floor. He sighed when he used his pocket knife to cut the seal on the kid’s dorm room door. And he sighed when he opened said door.
‘I’m sorry this is so painful for you,’ the kid’s mother said, although he thought it was said with just a touch of sarcasm.
‘You don’t know the half of it,’ Champion replied.
He stood against the door while mother and son went about packing up. And all he could do was watch.
‘Don’t worry about the stuff in the bathroom,’ I said to Graham. ‘We’ve already replaced most of that.’
‘Ah, yeah, well, not everything,’ my son said, blushed and moved into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him, which aroused the good detective’s suspicions. I kind of giggled, thinking about Champion pushing the door open only to find Graham pocketing a wad of condoms. But the door to the bathroom opened before Champion could do anything and he settled back against the dorm room door, his steely eye watching Graham’s every move. I wanted to say, ‘Give it up, already!’ but thought I’d let him keep his pride, such as it was.
We grabbed some sweatshirts, T-shirts, blue jeans, underwear and his heavy coat. He got his book bag and threw in some spiral notebooks and pens (not that he ever used them that I’d seen – he was of the age of ‘if it doesn’t go on the laptop it doesn’t go.’). He then grabbed the pictures off his bureau of his sisters and his BFFs from high school, but Champion, ever the optimist, couldn’t let that go.
‘Just a minute,’ he said, took the picture of Graham and his sisters and, taking the back off, examined it, put it back together, took the picture of Graham and his buds and did the same thing. There was no smoking gun hidden inside the picture frames. I could tell he was disappointed.
‘Shall we go?’ I asked the detective, using my smarmiest smile.
He opened the dorm room door and waved us through, sighing all the way back to the sidewalk.
‘So we go to San Antonio,’ I said to the room in general. Luna and I were sitting on my bed, Graham and Miranda on Luna’s.
‘I think you’re being slightly ridiculous,’ Luna said. ‘That’s a long way to go for a really iffy supposition. The chances the Dunstons had anything to do with this are slim to none.’
‘I’m betting more on slim than none,’ I said.
‘And besides,’ Miranda said, ‘San Antonio’s like an hour away. Maybe less. Google shows their address to be on the north side of town. Easy peasy.’
‘We don’t have time—’
‘What else are we going to do?’ I demanded. ‘Sit here with our thumbs up our butts until Champion decides to arrest Graham? At least if we drive to San Antonio, even if the Dunstons are totally innocent, we’ll get Graham out of harm’s way.’
‘The last thing Champion said was to let him know where Graham was at all times!’ Luna said.
‘Yeah, well, is he the boss of you?’ I said, twisting a well-used phrase all my children had used more times than I care to remember.
‘Pugh—’
‘Luna.’
‘God, Pugh,’ she said, shaking her head.
‘You got a better idea?’ I asked.
She thought for a moment, took a deep breath and s
aid, ‘No.’ Then she stood up and headed for the door. ‘We’ll take my car. And if anybody says anything – I mean anything! – to Champion about this, I’ll have you for breakfast. With a side of toast!’
Graham had no idea why they were going to San Antonio. He figured Bobby’s folks to be more than a long shot but he was happy to go. Being out of Champion’s jurisdiction felt safer, somehow. Miranda had been right – it took less than an hour to get to the Dunstons’ home. It was a nice Tara-looking thing, to Graham’s eyes, with columns in the front, painted white with black shutters, and a lawn his dad would have killed for. St Augustine at least four inches thick, the sidewalk edging sharp as a well-creased pant leg. Having been the main lawn man at his home since the age of thirteen, Graham had an eye for a good lawn. Everything was brown, of course, due to winter and all, but the hedges were neatly squared while smaller ones were perfect little balls. He took out his phone and snapped some close-up shots. His dad would appreciate that. All three women turned and looked at him like he was crazy. He coughed slightly and put the phone back in the hip pocket of his clean jeans.
Luna rang the bell, and they could all hear the chimes inside playing a tune. He wasn’t sure what it was but it sounded nice, he thought. The door was opened after a minute by a very large woman in a muumuu.
‘Yes?’ she said, staring at them with a furrowed brow.
Luna showed her badge. ‘Mrs Dunston?’
‘Yes? What is it?’
‘I’m a consultant with the Austin police depart—’
The woman grabbed her heart and fell against the doorjamb. ‘Oh my God! Robert! My baby! He’s dead, isn’t he?’
Luna grabbed the woman to keep her from falling. ‘No, ma’am! I’m so sorry. No, your son is fine. It’s about his friend, Bishop Alexander.’
The woman straightened and the furrowed brow deepened into a frown. ‘That you-know-what!’ she said through gritted teeth. ‘Has he hurt my boy? I’m going to kill—’
‘Ma’am, may we come in?’ Luna said, rubbing her arms through her coat. ‘It’s chilly out here.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, although Graham thought she’d didn’t look sorry. ‘Yes, of course you may. But only if you’re here to tell me that you-know-what has been thrown out of school!’ she said, turning and walking into the room. ‘I told Robert that boy was trouble with a capital T, but would he listen?’ she said as they followed her past a fancy living room into a crowded family room. To Graham’s eye, there was way too much furniture, and the fire in the fireplace, along with the central heating, made him want to strip off most of his clothes. ‘Do y’all want something to drink? The coffee pot is mostly full.’
‘Water,’ Graham choked. ‘Please.’
Mrs Dunston pointed to the kitchen just beyond the family room. ‘There’s bottled water in the fridge. Help yourself,’ she said, lowering herself onto a dark red sofa, half of which was covered with a brown throw sprouting more dog hair than one would think possible. Unless, of course, Graham thought, she’d shaved the dog there.
Graham headed into the kitchen while asking if anyone else wanted anything. His women all said water, except Mrs Dunston, who said, ‘If you could bring me a cup of coffee? With milk and sugar.’
‘Ah, sure,’ Graham said over his shoulder, wondering where this woman had left her hostessing skills. He passed a dog – presumably the past owner of all the hair on the sofa – as he walked into the kitchen. The dog, a medium-sized mixed breed, didn’t move, open an eye or anything as Graham passed, which made Graham wonder if it was dead. He leaned down and put his hand on the dog’s side, feeling for the rise and fall of breathing. The dog turned its head and stared at Graham through clouded eyes, his muzzle as gray as Graham’s grandpa’s hair. ‘Good boy,’ Graham said, petted the dog’s head and scratched behind its ears. The dog sighed, closed its eyes, pressed for a second against Graham’s hand then settled himself back on the cool tile floor. Graham figured that the family room was even too hot for the aging dog.
He poured the coffee, grabbed four bottles of water out of the fridge, found a tray sitting on the counter and put everything on it, including milk and sugar for his hostess, such as she was. He was obviously better at this than she was, he thought to himself.
‘Ladies,’ he said, coming into the family room.
‘Now, isn’t this pleasant?’ Mrs Dunston said. ‘Such a sweet boy.’
Graham took a seat next to Miranda on the loveseat that matched the sofa in all but dog hair, while his mother and Luna had both secured two of the easy chairs in the room. That left two unoccupied. He downed half the bottle of water in one gulp.
‘Ma’am,’ Luna said, ‘we’re here because there was an incident at U.T. but it didn’t involve your son – directly. His friend, Bishop—’
‘Ha! Friend! Use that word sparingly when talking about that you-know-what!’ Mrs Dunston said.
‘Yes, ma’am. The problem is, you see, Bishop Alexander was murdered Sunday night—’
‘Murdered?’ she exclaimed, sitting bolt upright on the sofa. ‘And you think my Robert had something to do with it?’
‘No, ma’am, not at all. We’re just talking to anyone who had any problem with the victim, and I can certainly see that you did. Is your husband here, ma’am?’
Mrs Dunston was sputtering. Finally she said, ‘You think I— My husband—’ She stopped and took a breath. ‘You’re out of your mind!’
‘Where can we find your husband?’ Luna asked.
Mrs Dunston leaned back and crossed her arms over her abundant chest. ‘Not a word!’ she said. ‘I’m not saying one word! You people! You come in here and accuse me—’ She began sputtering again.
‘No, ma’am,’ Luna said, her tone soft. ‘No one is accusing you of anything. I’m only interested in the incident that happened before winter break, when you went to pick up your son. I understand the victim was rather nasty?’
‘Victim! Ha! My son was the victim! That no-good said things … I can’t even repeat them, they were so vile!’ She shook her head. ‘He was a horrible boy! I can’t say anyone deserves to be murdered, but, well, you know, maybe he did!’
‘I’d like to speak to Mr Dunston as well, ma’am, if you could tell me where to find him?’
‘Who are these other people?’ the woman demanded, spreading her arms out to indicate Graham, Miranda and his mom.
‘They’re helping me with the case,’ Luna said.
Pointing at Graham, she said, ‘He’s not old enough to be with the police! Neither is she!’ Her finger moved to point at Miranda.
Graham stood up. ‘Ma’am, I was Bishop Alexander’s roommate—’
‘Oh my God!’ she screeched. ‘You people, get out of here now!’
‘Ma’am, please don’t paint me with the same brush as Bishop! The guy was an asshole and I’ve been trying for two semesters to get moved somewhere else. I know he treated Bobby like crap. I’ve witnessed it. But he treated almost everybody like crap! Including, and maybe more so than anyone else, me.’ Graham pointed at his mother. ‘This is my mom, and this,’ he said, his head indicating Miranda, ‘is … ah … my girlfriend?’
Miranda nodded her head and smiled at Graham. Graham turned back to Mrs Dunston. ‘My mom came in from out of town when this happened and she’s been trying to clear my name. The Austin police think I killed him—’
‘You hated him that much, too?’ Mrs Dunston said.
‘Well, yeah, pretty much. But the main reason is because he was killed – stabbed to death – in our room while I slept—’
‘He’d been drugged!’ Miranda threw in.
‘Stabbed to death! My oh my. That’s … well, it’s just awful. Even if he did deserve it. How’s Robert holding up?’ she asked Graham.
‘He’s upset, needless to say—’
She sighed. ‘Of course he is,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I’ve never understood the hold that horrible boy had over my son.’ She stopped and looked at Luna. ‘Tha
t day when we went to pick up Robert for winter break – that wasn’t the first time my husband and I saw him belittle our boy.’
Graham sat back down. Now, he thought, we’re finally getting somewhere!
Mrs Dunston was like her house, I thought. Overdone and overwrought. My first inkling of her taste – or lack thereof – was walking between the Tara-like columns of the front porch and then hearing the chimes inside the house play ‘Lara’s Theme’ from Dr Zhivago. I mean, Tara and Lara don’t even rhyme. Yes, sometimes I can be a taste snob. Other times I’m just a bitch.
When she finally started to tell us about the many other times Bishop Alexander had abused Bobby Dunston in his parents’ presence, her husband walked in the front door.
Bobby definitely took after his mother. Mr Dunston reminded me of the description of Ichabod Crane in ‘The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.’ Tall, skinny, anemic, an Adam’s apple you could rest a coffee cup on and Coke-bottom bottle glasses. When he came in the front door, his wife lumbered up from her seat and called out, ‘David! It’s about time you got home! Come in here now!’
The hapless David came in and stared at us as a group, then individually. His wife said, ‘Don’t stand there gawking, for crying out loud! These people are with the Austin police! That horrible friend of Robert’s has been murdered!’ The woman couldn’t hide the glee that came out with the word ‘murdered.’
‘Oh,’ David Dunston said.
‘Is that all you have to say? Robert could be next, for all we know!’ his wife screamed at him.
‘Really, that’s not—’ Luna started but was drowned out by Mrs Dunston.
‘I told you he should have stayed home and gone to that Christian school! But, oh no, you had to have him go there, just because you went there! But you didn’t even graduate, so I never under—’
Luna stood up. ‘Mrs Dunston, please. You’re getting off subject here—’
‘This is my house!’ the woman almost spat. ‘You don’t tell me what I can do in my house!’
‘Missy, honey,’ the hapless David said. ‘Calm down, dear.’
‘You shut up!’ she said to her husband.
Student Body Page 15