Take a Dive for Murder

by Millie Mack

  “For all those who follow, let it be known that the current editorial staff of Carolyn Kingsford, Joel Wheeler, James Faraday, and Stephen Beeker give their blood, their sweat, and even their tears to bring the truth to this campus through the written words and photographs of the student Courier newspaper.”

  We were all so young and even silly, but we did believe we were doing important work on that newspaper, Carrie thought. I wonder how on earth Jamie acquired the original desk.

  She ran her fingers over the words that were written with a non-washable black pen in that tiny draftsman script of Stephen Beeker. She wondered where Stephen was. The next time she saw Joel, she would ask. She slid the wooden divider back into place and sat for a few moments thinking about all the conversations exchanged while sitting around this desk. Enough already, you need to get started, Carrie admonished herself. She looked around the room to get a feel for Jamie’s workspace.

  The desk was placed to the left of the door and sat out from the wall facing a large bay window across the room. On each side of the window were several wooden four-drawer files. To the right of the desk was another window that looked toward the back of the Faraday house. Because the desk wasn’t close to either window, Jamie would see only the trees and open space surrounding the buildings. What a great setup, Carrie thought. You have the windows, so you don’t feel closed in, but not the distraction of seeing the comings and goings in the neighborhood. She continued surveying the room. To the right, against the far wall, was their old newspaper worktable. Jamie would have used the table to look at galleys or layouts, but of course now there would be no new layouts. Next to the table were an overstuffed chair, a lamp, and an end table piled with magazines. Carrie knew Jamie spent time reading in this chair and was half-tempted to go and relax in it, but she knew that would only delay her main task.

  The top of the desk was clear, with no notebooks or papers. This was unusual. If Jamie was working on a story, reference materials and papers should have been visible on the desk and table. Had someone already straightened the office, or had Jamie deliberately kept everything hidden? Carrie checked the drawers of the desk. The bottom two drawers were empty. The remaining drawers held notepaper and envelopes, stamps, pens, pencils, but nothing of any significance. She wondered if Jamie kept a journal or a diary that he used for notes. She would ask Christopher.

  Off to one side of the desk sat a laptop computer and printer. Maybe in this day and age, Jamie did all his work on the computer, but she decided to leave it for later.

  Next Carrie went to the file cabinets. They were also locked, but she tried another key from Simpson’s ring and unlocked them. The file drawers were stuffed with writings, story ideas, articles, research notes, and photos all filed together and set up alphabetically. One file cabinet was labeled published works. She would leave sorting that cabinet to the end. She grabbed a notebook and started with the first file drawer. If Jamie was working a story, maybe his research materials were somewhere in these drawers. She decided to take each file drawer in order and record the contents in her notebooks. While she knew this would be time-consuming, she also knew it was the only way she would have a complete record of the contents.

  She started her work by standing at the files. Then she discovered it would be easier if she took the folders out of the drawer and sorted them on the work table. Carrie sat in the overstuffed chair with her jean-clad legs draped over the side, and began sorting the files and making her notes. Although she had read many of Jamie’s published articles, she forgot what a good writer he was. Many of the folders contained multiple drafts of his published article, and she remembered what a stickler Jamie was for perfection. He would always push the newspaper’s deadline as he continued to edit to the last moment.

  She picked up another stack of folders from the table. As she settled back in the chair with the folders, a three-by-five card drifted to the floor. Carrie picked it up and saw the title at the top: “Getting Exports out of Europe Avoiding the Normal Channels.” Carrie recognized that the notes were in Jamie’s small, tight script. The rest of the card listed a series of thoughts that Jamie might use in a story, including how to hide an item, how to make contacts, how much money can be made, and how to retrieve items on the other end. Carrie turned the card over. Nothing was written on the back. She went back to the file cabinets and looked in the section of E folders. She found no folder on exporting. There was one on elephants, escape artists and many folders on Europe, and then the F folders started. She checked under I for importing, but again found nothing. She folded the card and slipped it into her jeans pocket. Maybe later she would find other materials on this subject, or maybe this was the beginning of the notes Jamie made from his lunch with Joel. As she continued her work, she noticed that most of the folders contained similar cards with notes like the one that fell on the floor.

  Carrie lost track of time as she continued logging the contents of the folders. Dusk was beginning to darken the room, but she didn’t take the time to turn on the lights. Unexpectedly, she thought she heard a sound on the steps outside. Then she saw a shadow pass in front of the window that faced the side steps. She was frozen until she heard a key in the door lock. She jumped up and stood behind the chair. She watched as the key engaged the lock and the door handle slowly turned. As the door opened, Carrie was about to duck behind the chair. But before she made her move, a head poked around the corner of the door and Suzanne came into view. Carrie breathed a sigh of relief.

  Suzanne saw Carrie and was also startled, “Oh, oh, hello. I didn’t know anyone was here. I didn’t see any lights,” she said, smoothing out an imaginary wrinkle from her brightly flowered top.

  “I’ve been working and didn’t bother to turn them on yet,” Carrie answered.

  “How can you work in the dark?”

  Carrie didn’t answer Suzanne’s question, but instead asked, “Suzanne, what are you doing here?”

  “I often kept Jamie company while he was writing,” she said defensively.

  “I thought you said Jamie wasn’t working on a story?”

  Carrie could tell Suzanne was flustered, but she quickly answered, “I mean I was helping him get the place ready in case he decided to start a story.”

  “You really shouldn’t come up here now that Jamie is…isn’t here, until I have all the papers and materials cataloged.”

  “I’m not going to touch anything. I was just going to sit in the chair.”

  “I understand that, but this is no longer a place for you to visit. You see, it will take twice as long if my work is interrupted.”

  “Well, I’m sorry, but I think you’re just jealous of my relationship with Jamie.” Suzanne sounded like a teenage girl. “From what I understand, you were Jamie’s girl in the past. I think you’re just pissed that I’m even around.” Suzanne paused for a moment and then added, “I was Jamie’s assistant, and I could help you. But, no, you just want to sit up here and dream about what could have been.” Her voice was now sharp.

  Suzanne’s outburst stunned Carrie, and she wasn’t quite sure how to answer her. She decided on a softer approach. “Suzanne, I know that you’re feeling left out. You were Jamie’s assistant, and now I’ve been assigned to handle those things you once did. That’s just the way things work out sometimes. I also know you took care of Jamie and Christopher, and I’m sure they appreciated that.”

  “Yes, they did. I was a big help to both of them,” she agreed.

  “Exactly, and Christopher still needs your help to get him get through this difficult time. I assure you, all I want to do is to get everything cataloged and be on my way. Don’t you think that’s the best plan?”

  Suzanne looked away as she nodded her head.

  “I know you will also understand why I have to do this alone in order to do it quickly.”

  “I do. I’m sorry. It’s just that I miss him.”

  “I know you do.” Carrie waited a moment and then asked, “Since you know about Jamie
’s work, do you mind if I ask you a question?”

  “Sure, go ahead.” Suzanne brightened.

  “Did Jamie keep a journal?”

  “A journal?” She seemed surprised by the question.

  “You know a notebook or a diary where he kept ideas for stories or notes from interviews and research.”

  “Nope, nothing like that.” Her answer seemed a little quick to Carrie. Then she added, “He did most of his writing on the computer.”

  “I guess most people use computers these days,” agreed Carrie.

  “I’m considered an expert on the computer. That’s where I was the most help to Jamie. If you want, I could take the laptop into the house and print out all the files. That would probably save you some time.”

  “You know, that’s really sweet of you to offer. However, I’m going to systematically work my way through the files and then copy my work on the computer. So I really need to keep the laptop here.” Carrie knew she was telling a little white lie since she had her own computer.

  Suzanne looked dejected again, but before she could respond, Carrie offered, “When I get around to typing my notes, perhaps you could help me at that time. I’ve never been very good with computers.”

  “I’ll be glad to help.” She smiled broadly. “Do you want me to wait?”

  “No, I didn’t mean today. I won’t be ready to type my notes for several days. But if you’re going to be around in the next few days, I’m sure you could help me.”

  “Oh, yeah, I’ll be around. Just let me know when you’re ready for me to enter items.”

  Carrie walked Suzanne to the door and watched as Suzanne went down the steps. Suzanne turned and waived to Carrie and hurried across the lawn to the kitchen door. Carrie was sure if Suzanne had been a small child, she would have skipped across the lawn. But Carrie did not buy the sweet little girl persona of Suzanne.

  It was getting late, so Carrie decided to stop work for the day. She placed all the folders back inside the file drawers and locked them. However, before she left the studio, she decided to check Jamie’s computer. She turned it on and once it booted up, a password screen appeared.

  I was afraid of that, she thought. She tried “Jamie,” “Faraday,” “Christopher,” “Suzanne,” and even her name. Nothing got her past the password screen. Then she remembered at school they used to refer to the old typewriter as “good old Bessie.” She tried “Bessie,” and the computer accepted the password and proceeded to the opening screen.

  Carrie saw only a few software applications were loaded: a word program, a spreadsheet program, and a few games. She searched the computer’s documents and found just a couple of files. She took a blank DVD from her supply bag and loaded all the files she found onto it. Then she shut the computer down. She checked again to make sure everything was locked and returned to the house.

  15

  That evening, Carrie ate dinner in the kitchen with Christopher, Mary, and Mrs. Cavanaugh. Charles called to say he would be working late, Suzanne was out for the evening, and Mrs. Faraday chose to eat in her room. Carrie and Christopher decided they preferred eating in the kitchen with Mary and Mrs. Cavanaugh rather than being served in the formal dining room.

  Even though dinner was held in the kitchen, Christopher was expected to change into clean clothes for the meal. Christopher, being a typical kid, selected khaki pants and a checked cotton shirt for his dining attire. Carrie followed protocol and changed her blouse and traded her jeans for slacks.

  Conversation was light during dinner as the two enjoyed Mrs. Cavanaugh’s delicious homemade meat loaf. Carrie liked Christopher and focused the conversation on him and how he liked his new school and how he was spending his free time in TriCity. It wasn’t until the end of the meal, when Mary and Mrs. Cavanaugh were clearing the table, that Christopher changed the topic.

  “Were you working in my dad’s studio today?”

  “Yes, I decided I better get started on cataloging all your dad’s materials. There’s quite a bit of paper to go through, although it seems well organized.”

  “Yeah, Dad is very…I mean, he was very good about keeping everything organized.” He stopped for a moment and then resumed his thought. “I think it was because we moved around a lot. Dad was forced to keep his papers tidy. Sometimes he would send home boxes full of papers. Then when we came home during vacations, he would get everything filed.”

  “I thought your dad just finished building the studio?” asked Carrie.

  “Oh, he did, but before he fixed the studio up, he bought the file cabinets and the other furniture and stored them in the basement. Hey, if everything is so well organized, what are you doing?”

  Christopher so reminded Carrie of Jamie. Just like his father, he cut right to the point, but didn’t speak with any intended ill will.

  “The work is organized, but there’s no record of what papers are in the files. I’ve bought a couple of notebooks, and I’m going through each drawer, listing the items I find.”

  “Dad used a small notebook when he was working on a story. Then when he was ready to write the story he used graph paper,” offered Christopher.

  “Graph paper…huh!” responded Carrie.

  “Yeah, I know most people don’t write that way, but he liked the method.’

  “I like graph paper, too. That’s exactly how I write.”

  “I thought you were a photographer?”

  “I am, but even photographers have to write. I have to write captions, or sometimes I write a little mini story for the pictures I take. I’m also writing a book.”

  “You are! What’s it about?” Christopher asked excitedly.

  “Oh, it’s just a little mystery,” Carrie said modestly.

  “I like to read mysteries. I’m a big reader of the Hardy Boys.”

  “In that case, when it gets published, I’ll be sure you get one of the first copies.” Carrie didn’t want to admit that she was struggling with the book, not to mention if it ever got published it would never be as popular as the Hardy Boys. “You know, when I was your age, I was a big fan of Nancy Drew. I even read a couple of Hardy Boys when I could sneak them away from my brother.”

  “Really?” Christopher looked around to make sure Mary and Mrs. Cavanaugh weren’t listening. “I’ve read Nancy Drew, too, but don’t tell anyone. I don’t want my friends to know that I read a girls’ book.” Christopher realized that Carrie’s book might be a girls’ book. He tried to recover by adding, “But I’d read your book even if it’s for girls.”

  Carrie smiled and then asked, “As long as we are talking about writing, I did want to ask you a question. Did your father ever keep a journal or a diary, or did he just write on graph paper and then transfer everything to the computer?”

  Christopher pondered the question and then said, “I guess you would call that notebook I mentioned a journal. It was a small leather book that he received as a Christmas gift from Uncle Charles. It was green leather and had a replaceable tablet on one side and card inserts on the other side. Dad always made notes in the journal, and then he would refer to them when he wrote his drafts.”

  “Interesting,” Carrie responded. “Do you know what happened to it?”

  “No, I’ve kinda been wondering what happened to it,” he said slowly and then paused.

  Carrie thought he was going to add something, but then he changed the subject.

  “Did you look at Dad’s computer?”

  “I turned it on, but I didn’t see many files.”

  “You mean you got in? What about the password?” Christopher looked at Carrie in amazement. “How did you know it was…” he stopped. He realized he was about to give away the password.

  “I figured it out.” Carrie leaned over and whispered the name “Bessie” in Christopher’s ear. “The computer password was the same as the name we gave the old typewriter at our college newspaper office.”

  “Wow, that’s still clever of you to figure it out.”

  “I a
ssume your dad captured all of his work on his computer?” Carrie asked.

  “Not really, Dad only used the computer for the final draft of stories.”

  “Really, he didn’t use it for his notes and rough drafts?”

  “Nope, as I said, he wrote his notes and even his interviews in the journal and then wrote the draft on graph paper. Only when he was ready to prepare the final piece would he switch to the computer. Why do you ask?”

  “I was just wondering. Some people use the computer for all their writing.”

  Based on what Christopher said, Carrie knew Suzanne lied: first, when she denied the existence of a journal, and, second, when she said Jamie used the computer for all his writing. Carrie wanted to ask Christopher one more question.

  “Christopher, did Suzanne type the final story into the computer for your father? I understand she’s quite good on the computer.”

  “Suzanne offered to help on several occasions, but Dad always refused. My dad always worked alone.” He fell silent again. “I know what you’re thinking. Why did he have her around? I know I’m a kid, but the two of them didn’t act like girlfriend and boyfriend. My dad dated after my mom died, but this time it was different. Oh, sure, they did things together, but…well…Suzanne wanted more. She wanted to go out on dates, but she also wanted to live with us and help him with his work, help make decisions.”