Literally Dead (A Pepper Brooks Cozy Mystery Book 1)

by Eryn Scott

“Sorry to waste your time, then.” I grimaced and got myself out of there.

  I felt about three feet tall after my encounter with the detective. And maybe if I had been feeling like a bigger person, I wouldn’t have immediately started making a plan to confront his lying, evidence poaching son. But as it was, I let the anger stew and my humiliation grow throughout the night and my classes the next day.

  Evilsworth was my last class of the day, so I was feeling pretty ready to punch something by the time I made my way to the library that evening. Plus, I wasn’t only there for confrontation, but had a large paper due next week and was hoping to get the majority of it written while I waited.

  I pushed my way through the glass doors of the library, my research papers and books stuffed in my bag alongside a peanut butter and banana sandwich and a thermos of half coffee, half hot chocolate. If Green Accountant was open, that was where I was headed. Not only was it surrounded by enough bookshelves to hide my illegal homemade mocha and scarf down my food, but it would give me a good vantage point for peeking out periodically to see if Alex had started his shift.

  Rounding the bookshelf where the large table held the green accountant’s lamp, I stopped as I noticed papers and books already strewn across the wooden surface. Two students from Evilsworth’s class sat there, most likely working on the same paper I was there to write.

  “Oh hey, Pepper.” Trish waved at me, looking up from her laptop.

  “Long time, no see,” Heather joked.

  I smiled and stepped closer to them, though I didn’t sit. I didn’t want to be rude, but I worked best when I was alone.

  “Hey!” I made my voice bright and personable.

  “Boy, was Evensworth on a roll of terror today.” Heather rolled her eyes.

  I kicked at the old carpet with the toe of my shoe. “Right? I mean, could he have been more disrespectful about Dr. Campbell? He didn’t even seem sad when he mentioned it in class yesterday.”

  Heather’s eyebrows rose and she leaned forward. “Yeah, probably because he was the one who killed the guy. Katie told me he and the dead guy had some huge fight right before he died.”

  My throat felt suddenly dry with this news.

  “Besides the fact he’s a total jerk, why would Evensworth fight with some random professor from Oxford?” Trish asked the question I was thinking, but hadn’t been able to ask. In my surprise, I barely felt like I could breathe, let alone talk.

  “You know that new book Evensworth just wrote, the one he can’t go two minutes without talking about?”

  Trish scoffed. “Oh, yeah. Something about ‘American Literature: A New Frontier.’ Boring.”

  I nodded, mirroring her sentiment.

  “Well, apparently, an article came out two days ago where Dr. Campbell completely ripped the book apart. I think he even used the phrase, ‘unsubstantiated drivel’ at one point.”

  My heart hammered in my chest. Holy crap! First I figure out Dr. Campbell was murdered and now I have evidence which points toward a very likely suspect. As concentrated on the soliloquy clue as I’d been, I hadn’t even thought about who might’ve murdered the professor. My toes scrunched uncomfortably in my sneakers as I thought of a killer on the loose around campus.

  “Hey, I’ve gotta get going on this paper, so…” I waved quickly as I backed away before they could invite me to work with them.

  A shiver ran down my spine at the memory of seeing Naked Newt on campus right before I’d found the body. He’d said that creepy thing about blood being on the wind. Newt said gross stuff all the time, though. That didn’t make him a killer. Probably. Plus, it sounded like Evilsworth was building quite the case against himself. I searched for another place to sit as I contemplated what I’d heard.

  Unfortunately, Small Dark and Red was occupied, along with all of my favorite spots, which left me plopping my butt down on the leather couch near the front entrance.

  Great.

  Now, not only would it look like I was literally stalking Alex, waiting for him to come in to work — which, I know I technically was — but being out in the open also meant I was going to have to be really stealthy if I wanted to eat my dinner and drink from my thermos.

  Ginger, an education major, was working the counter at the moment and she smiled up at me as I arranged my books and papers around me. She was nice, if not a little confusing, being one of those people who smiled too much and always seemed happy no matter what. She also had blond hair which, matched with her name, made her seem like an oxymoron to me.

  I pulled out my laptop, turned off the WiFi so I wouldn’t be tempted to “Internet,” and I got to work. Ginger didn’t seem to notice as I snuck bites of my sandwich from my bag. Or maybe she did, but felt bad that my papers blew all over the place each time someone opened the front door so she was letting me get away with it.

  Once I got into the flow of my writing, however, I stopped noticing when things shifted slightly in the wind. Seeing each paragraph connect back to my thesis always felt like some kind of magic and I was slightly amazed each time I was able to make it happen.

  Which was why I didn’t notice the dark shadow looming over me until the owner of said shadow cleared his throat.

  Jumping, I glanced up. I had also, apparently, stopped caring about hiding my sandwich, because the last quarter hung from my mouth as I gazed up. My fingers grabbed at it and stuffed the rest inside my maw. Blinking, I met Alex’s stony glare.

  “Pepper.” His thick eyebrows rose as he looked down on me, both literally and metaphorically.

  I had about three bites too many in my mouth and all I could do was chew the sticky concoction awkwardly as Alex watched.

  After an agonizing amount of time — I don’t even want to guess how long it lasted — I swallowed and said, “Alex.”

  “What’d they say about the clue?”

  If I hadn’t just crammed a bunch of bread in my mouth, I would’ve scoffed. As it was, I didn’t want to add “spat a bunch of crumbs” to the list of weird things I’d done in front of Alex. So I settled for craning my neck forward and giving him my best “are you serious?” scowl.

  “You should know,” I said after one last swallow to make sure all of the sandwich pieces were out of my mouth.

  Confusion drew lines across his face as he said, “I told you I’m not a full cop yet. I’m not actually on the case.”

  “Yeah, right. Except you apparently called him to tell him my clue before I could.”

  Alex sighed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about and I don’t have time for this. I’ve gotta go relieve Ginger so she can get something to eat.”

  He walked back to the circulation desk, then waved goodbye to Ginger as she grabbed her things.

  Okay, now I was confused. Alex hadn’t told his dad my clue?

  I pulled my thermos out from my bag and chugged some of the warm drink before I moved enough papers and books around so I could stand up. Then I walked over to the desk, eyes looking just about everywhere but at Alex’s serious face.

  My fingertip squished down on a circle of paper which must’ve escaped from a three-hole punch somewhere.

  “So… you didn’t tell your dad my clue?” I squinted one eye and tried to look at Alex indirectly, as if he were the sun during an eclipse.

  He shook his head. “Why would I do that?”

  “When I went to tell him, he already knew about it.”

  Alex shrugged. “He is the lead detective. Ever consider that maybe he’s doing his job?”

  I let my gaze drop to the counter again. “Sorry. I thought… It didn’t seem like something police officers would’ve caught. When he told me they already knew Dr. C had been murdered, I thought you’d said something.”

  “Well, I didn’t.” Alex paused, making me look up into his brown eyes. “To be honest, they probably didn’t know about the Shakespeare stuff. I bet they got the toxicology report back or something else clued them into the fact he wasn’t killed by the pills.”
/>   My eyes widened. “Wait. He wasn’t killed by the pills? How do you know?”

  Alex’s head fell to the side slightly as if he was tired of dealing with me. “If they think it was murder then the pills can’t be the cause of death. I mean, murderers usually don’t force pills down people’s throats. And it sounds like there weren’t any signs of a struggle.” A smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Unless you changed the crime scene so much they couldn’t tell.”

  “Haha.” My brain was going over this whole “murder” thing too much to give in to Alex’s ribbing. I leaned in close, chewing on my lip for a moment before saying, “Some of my classmates heard about a professor getting in a fight with the guy before he died.” I gestured over my shoulder toward Green Accountant and narrowed my eyes.

  Alex leaned in close, mirroring my facial expression. “You don’t say?”

  His breath smelled like peppermint and I got a waft of clean laundry in lieu of a cologne. It made me want to close my eyes until I remembered how he was surly and frustrating and how I wasn’t dating guys from school.

  “A few students think they know who the murderer is without knowing any of the clues or being involved with the investigation at all?” As his tone flattened and I realized he was mocking me, I pulled myself back, mad he’d fooled me into thinking he cared about my information. “Hurry, let’s go find them and arrest their suspect right away.”

  By the time he finished, Alex’s voice was so deadpan I would’ve thought all humor had left his body if it hadn’t been for the mischievous spark in his eyes.

  I put my hands up. “Okay, okay. I get it. You don’t think it’s important. You don’t have to be rude.” I shot him a sharp look and turned to leave.

  “You know there’s no eating in the library, Pepper.” His words stopped me.

  I smirked at the playfulness in his tone and then kept walking, making sure to take an extra long drink from my thermos when I sat again.

  After another half hour of work on my essay, I packed up my things and headed out, waving a quick goodbye to Alex as I passed him. He grunted something and dipped his chin in response.

  The apartment was dark when I got home, save for a small yellow lamp in the kitchen. As I stripped off my coat and set my bag down on the couch, Hamburger barked and waggled around excitedly around my feet. My phone buzzed in my pocket while I was scratching Hammy’s ears. It was a text from Liv.

  “Wanna meet me and the Js for drinks?”

  Liv’s business friends all had names which started with J. There was Jenna, James, and Justin. She called them the Js for short, since they were usually together. And I liked them, but it didn’t seem right to be out having fun so soon after what had happened.

  Thinking of the deceased Dr. Campbell, my mind returned to Fergie and wondered how she was holding up. Checking my watch, I grabbed Hammy’s leash. Fergie was usually in her office at night, and even if she wasn’t, Ham and I could at least get in a good walk. I replied to Liv’s text.

  “Thanks, but I’m out tonight. Say hey to the Js for me.”

  She answered right back.

  “I’ll only allow it if you spill about mean/cute library guy. Jenna says she saw you talking to him again. I told her you weren’t interested, but she seemed to think your body language said otherwise.”

  I bit my lip. Crap. Jenna rarely came to the library, which means she probably just saw me talking to Alex through the window. And if she’d misread what I was feeling toward him…

  “Deal, but seriously don’t get your hopes up.”

  I grabbed my jacket and pulled it back on, hooking Hammy’s leash onto her collar.

  Hamburger’s nails clickclickclicked on the concrete as we walked down the campus pathways. I wrapped her leash around my arm and then shoved both hands deep into the downy pockets of my jacket. She stopped to smell something every seven-and-a-half steps and barked at anything that moved — plus a few things that didn’t — and yanked me around like she was trying to give me longer arms. But every few moments, she would look up at me adoringly, tongue lolling out the side of her mouth and I couldn’t help but giggle.

  I figured it was late enough no one would really care if Hammy came into the building. Plus, Fergie had been asking to meet her, so this would be a great time. The campus was empty save for a few people out walking the cool, lamp-lit pathways, and by the time I reached the edge of campus, Ham and I were alone.

  As I passed through the doors of the English building, I reached down and scooped up the little dog, tucking her under my arm as we continued inside. Hamburger pressed her body up against mine and looked around wildly, until we reached the hallway where Dad’s — er — Fergie’s office was housed. Right as I rounded the corner, Hammy’s ears perked up and a low growl rumbled through her body.

  “Whoa, girl. What’s wrong?” I asked.

  I got my answer in the form of a person appearing rather than an answer from my dog. Detective Valdez stopped in the doorway. His eyes, already dark and focused, surveyed me and then the growling Hamburger.

  “Miss Brooks,” he said, tipping his head forward, and then he turned to leave.

  My mouth hung open, unsure what to say. Why was he here? I peeked through the door, into Fergie’s open office and saw her sitting there, head in her hands. Oh no. Had he just broken the news to her about Dr. C’s murder-not-suicide?

  I rushed forward, so glad I’d come. This was no time for the woman to be alone.

  “Fergie?” I said as I knocked softly on the door.

  Tears sliding down her face, she glanced up. “Oh! Pepper, what are you doing here?”

  “I thought I’d come check on you and let you meet my new dog, the one I was telling you about.”

  Fergie swiped at her teary face and stood. “Goodness! She has the face of a radio star, doesn’t she?” The older woman patted Hammy’s stubby, wrinkly snout.

  I laughed.

  “And what is her name?” Fergie asked.

  “Hamburger,” I said quietly, then cleared my throat. “My niece named her.” I shrugged.

  Fergie took Ham’s paw in her hand and shook it. “Hamburguesa, lovely to meet you.” When I gave her a funny look, she said, “It’s Spanish, dear. A more lady-like option, if you’re ever in want of one.”

  I smiled. Hamburguesa. I mentally added it to the dog’s list of nicknames.

  “Everything okay?” I asked, tentatively.

  Fergie’s eyes teared up again. “Oh, Pepper. No. Everything is not okay.”

  “So you know it was murder?” My forehead creased together as I watched her body sag from sadness.

  She nodded slowly. “I know. But that’s not even the worst of it.” Her blue eyes met mine, an intensity gripping them I’d not seen before. Her hand clasped down over mine as she said, “Pepper, Detective Valdez was just here questioning me. I’m quite sure I’m their prime suspect.”

  7

  My eyes widened as I took in the information. Hammy squirmed in my arms, so I set her down on the floor, holding tight to her leash as she sniffed around the room.

  “You? A suspect? But — but don’t they know you? You wouldn’t hurt anyone, let alone your good friend.”

  Her bony fingers squeezed down on mine. “I’m glad to hear you think so highly of me, dear, but unfortunately, it seems the evidence is stacking against me.”

  I pulled in a deep breath. “What evidence?”

  “Well, they wouldn’t tell me, so this is purely speculation, but he was found in my office, there’s no one to substantiate my alibi since I was alone, I’m the only one here who knew him well at all, and…” her voice petered out and she cleared her throat. “There’s our history together.”

  “History? Together?” I asked.

  Fergie let go of my hand and paced away, her flowy clothing wafting behind her as if she were the ghost of the murdered king in a stage production of The Tragedy of Hamlet: Prince of Denmark. “We were somewhat of an item, for a while — off and o
n.”

  I thought for a moment about how flustered Fergie had looked when I’d run into Stephanie and her in the hallway before going in to check on Dr. Campbell. Was Fergie often dramatic? Sure. Disorganized? Absolutely. But the woman was always self-assured. The doubt I’d seen in her eyes during those moments in the hall was something I’d not experienced when looking at her before.

  There was a tiny, minuscule, fraction of a second where I actually entertained the idea that maybe my favorite teacher had done it, had offed an old lover and colleague. Then she turned and her worried eyes met mine, and that thought disappeared for good. No. The kindness she’d shown me — heck, everyone she met — pointed to a woman who would never hurt anyone.

  My shoulders relaxed slightly. “Don’t worry, Dr. Ferguson. They’ll see it wasn’t you. They just have to look at all of the evidence.”

  The old woman slumped into the chair in the corner, the gauzy fabrics making her look like a liquid the way she spilled into the thing. “I hope you’re right.” Her voice sounded worn without the vibrant, operatic timber I was used to.

  Hammy tugged on the leash, pulling my attention from my professor for a moment. The dog had been snorting around, sniffing the floor, skittering this way and that around the desk, but now she had her whole face buried in Fergie’s purse.

  “Oh, no. Hammy, no.” I lunged forward.

  Pulling her head free of the bag, I noticed she had gotten a hold of something. My fingers pried open her little jaw, and I saw a piece of crumpled paper, slightly wet from doggie saliva. I pulled the thing out of her mouth and unfolded it. It was only about the size of my hand, fully opened. The ink was slightly smudged from being wet, but other than that, the wording was clear.

  And it sent a shiver down my spine.

  It was the same handwriting I’d seen on the note in Dr. C’s hand. And it had been in Fergie’s purse? Unlike the soliloquy, which became messier, more rushed, as it went on, these few lines were neat as could be, measured.

  Be this the whetstone of your sword. Let grief convert to anger. Blunt not the heart, enrage it.

  Face crinkled in worry, I stood.

  “What’s that?” Fergie asked from her chair.