The Perfect Coed (Oak Grove Mysteries Book 1)

by Judy Alter

  By then, Susan was so overcome she could only mutter, “Thank you.”

  Atwater and Jake talked about the legalities of the case, but Susan barely heard them. After a few minutes, the provost came over to her, put his hand on her shoulder, and said, “Let me know what I can do to help, Susan. I’m on your side.”

  She looked at him. “Will you tell Dr. Scott you talked to me?”

  He fought to hide a grin, which indicated to Susan that the provost understood only too well the nature of his English department chair. “Yes,” he said, “I’ll do that first thing in the morning. You get some rest—I suspect you need it.” Then, too heartily, to Jake he said, “If I could spare you some vacation time, I’d suggest you take this woman to the Caribbean. But sorry, Jake. I need you here right now.”

  Jake grinned. “The Caribbean doesn’t sound bad. Maybe over Christmas break.”

  “It’s a deal,” Atwater said, “and I’ll buy you dinner for two wherever you decide to go.”

  Jake walked the provost out to his car, while Susan sat stunned on the couch. Her car was wrecked, someone was trying to kill her, she was charged with murder, and she had lost her job. And, at the lowest point in her life, Jake could talk about a Caribbean vacation.

  * * *

  When Jake came back into the room, he stood staring at her for a long time. Finally, he spoke softly. “Feeling sorry for yourself?”

  “Why shouldn’t I?” she asked bitterly. “What else could go wrong?”

  He shrugged. “Not much, I guess. But the Susan Hogan I know and love doesn’t go much for self-pity. What’re you going to do now? Spend all your time sitting on the couch thinking how unfair life’s been to you?”

  Susan shifted uncomfortably, and when she spoke her voice was defensive. “I can’t move around much, and you have forbidden me to do anything that would even remotely seem like I was trying to investigate the murder on my own.”

  Jake grinned ever so slightly. “Can’t you work on your Zane Grey book, go for drives with Aunt Jenny, do the things that lots of women do.”

  The prospect haunted Susan. She could see days dragging into weeks when she had nothing to do and woke every morning wondering in desperation, “What can I do today?” That, she realized, was the one thing that could make things worse.

  “I have to find out who killed Missy Jackson and why,” she said with sudden, fierce determination. “Otherwise, I’ll do just what you’re warning me against. I’ll sit around and feel sorry for myself.”

  Jake looked straight at her. “A couple of promises,” he said. “Promise me you won’t take chances, and promise me you won’t do anything against the law.” It never occurred to him that he should make her promise not to lie to him.

  Susan nodded. “And I won’t tell you anything I’m doing.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Jake said. Warning bells were playing a concerto in his brain.

  “Pot roast is ready,” Aunt Jenny called. “Dinner’s in ten minutes. Susan, dear, you feel like eating after all that’s happened to you today?”

  “I’m hungry, Aunt Jenny. Got to keep my strength up.”

  Aunt Jenny gave her a puzzled look.

  Just as they sat down for dinner, Eric Lindler knocked on the door.

  As he got up to let him in, Jake muttered, “The kid’s got radar that tells him when food’s on the table.”

  “Tsk, Jake, you be kind now,” Aunt Jenny remonstrated. She got up from the table to set an extra place.

  “Oh,” Eric said as Jake stood back by the open door to let him pass, “you’re eating dinner. I’m sorry. I’ve come at a bad time.”

  “No, no,” Aunt Jenny said, putting down silverware and a plate. “You just join us, young man. I bet you could use some meat and potatoes.”

  Eric grinned charmingly. “If you’re sure it’s not an imposition… well, yes, I could. But I didn’t come at dinnertime on purpose.”

  “Of course not, Eric,” Susan said. If she was surprised that he had the nerve to come here after insisting the police search her house, she hid it well. “Why did you come?”

  “I… I wanted to apologize, Dr. Hogan. I hear you’ve been charged with Missy’s murder, and I feel it’s my fault.”

  Eric Lindler, she decided, was a much more complicated young man than she thought at first. “Why is it your fault, Eric? Because you insisted they search my house? After you told me you knew I had nothing to do with the murder? That doesn’t make sense to me.”

  Jake shifted uncomfortably in his chair and reminded himself that in a way he’d given Susan license to explore. He just didn’t know she’d start right in front of him at the dinner table or that she’d start with Eric Lindler—everyone pretty much agreed that Eric was innocent.

  Eric didn’t hesitate. “The police, well, they’re after me every minute, and I never know what to say to them. I mean, I’ve told them everything I know, and they still want more. So, finally, just to get rid of them, I said, ‘Oh, go check Dr. Hogan’s house.’ And that’s just what they did.”

  “Why’d they arrest you?” Eric asked. “I’ll go to Lieutenant Jordan and tell him I know you’re innocent.”

  “They arrested me because they…” Susan hesitated. “Because they think they found incriminating evidence in my car.” She started to tell him they’d found the baseball bat in her closet and then thought better of it. Later, she would realize that Jake was careful not to mention that too, and she prayed Aunt Jenny would keep silent. And only much later did it occur to her to wonder how Eric knew the police had been there.

  “And, Eric, you can’t tell Lieutenant Jordan I’m innocent, because you don’t know that unless you know who killed Missy. Do you, Eric?”

  Even Susan’s questions didn’t faze his appetite. He took another bite of pot roast, chewed it, and then looked at Susan with that youthful, innocent expression. “No, ma’am, I don’t know. I really don’t.”

  “Eric, do you know a young man—older than you—with wavy red hair?”

  Eric seemed to think a long time, meanwhile filling his mouth with carrots and potatoes. At long last, he asked, “Can you tell me his name or anything more about him?”

  “He’s been seen on campus,” Susan said. “I wondered if Missy knew him. Brandy Perkins does.”

  Instantly, Eric was alert. “Brandy has a lot of friends I don’t approve of. They’re evil. And I warned Missy to stay away from them. But I don’t know any of them by sight—I just know what Missy told me. So I guess I don’t know the one you’re describing, Dr. Hogan.”

  “Susan, your dinner is getting cold. Let the poor boy eat in peace, and you eat, too,” Aunt Jenny said, and Susan devoted herself to her meal. Apparently no one else could think of anything to say, and the dinner became a silent one.

  Eric finally broke the silence. “I have no idea what kind of evidence they found, Dr. Hogan, but I’ll do everything I can to prove that you’re innocent. And, again, I’m sorry. I never meant them to think you had anything to do with Missy’s murder. I was just… well, I guess I lost it. I was so desperate to get rid of them.”

  Jake watched the young man carefully. “Eric,” he said slowly, “desperation shouldn’t make you change your behavior, say things you don’t mean. As long as you know you’re innocent, you should be able to put up with the constant official attention.”

  Aunt Jenny sat at the end of the table, her mouth frozen open, a bit of roast on her fork held halfway between her plate and her mouth.

  “I know that, Mr. Phillips, and I… I guess it’s a weakness in me. I’ve prayed to the Lord for strength, but I’m still so confused. At any rate, I really am sorry I seem to have pointed them in your direction again, Dr. Hogan. I know you didn’t have anything to do with Missy’s death.”

  Aunt Jenny recovered herself, put the bit of meat back on her plate and said, “There, there, young man. We know you didn’t mean to harm Susan. You just eat that dinner, and you’ll feel better.”

  A
unt Jenny’s solution to anything, Susan thought, is to feed people.

  After dinner, Eric offered, indeed almost insisted, on doing the dishes, and eventually Eric and Jake did dishes, while Susan and Aunt Jenny sat in the living area. It was too cool for the deck.

  “I never did believe in letting men do dishes,” Aunt Jenny said, patting her hair into place and smoothing her apron. “They won’t get them clean, and I’ll just have to wash them again tomorrow.”

  “Jake will get them clean,” Susan assured her.

  After Eric left, Susan said, “Aunt Jenny, I was afraid you’d tell him they found the baseball bat here. Somehow… I don’t know why, I don’t think we should tell him… if he doesn’t already know.”

  “He knows,” Aunt Jenny said. “He put it here, so he’ll be able to guess they found it. And now he knows you’re lying to him. I don’t know who that redheaded man you mentioned is, Susan, but he didn’t put the bat there.”

  Oh, yes, he did, Susan thought, and he tried to kill me. But she wouldn’t tell Aunt Jenny that. She hadn’t even told Jake her suspicion that the bat was placed in her house the night of the murder, which meant her car was chosen deliberately. Why still remained a great mystery to her.

  * * *

  Next morning, Susan was up before Aunt Jenny. She started a pot of coffee and made her way to the deck to retrieve the newspaper, spreading it open so she could see the front page. Dirk Jordan had indeed done his best. An article in the lower right-hand corner of the page, with a modest headline, proclaimed “Murder Weapon Found.” No pictures, nothing to draw attention, no indication in the headline as to what murder. Only when you read the two-column short piece did you learn that a baseball bat had been found in the home of Dr. Susan Hogan, that the police had charged her with murder, and that she was free on bail.

  “Damn!” she said, throwing the paper across the deck.

  Midmorning, she called Ellen Peck in her office to tell her about the suspension.

  “I already know,” Ellen said. “So does everyone in the department. Scott posted a memo first thing.”

  “Damn!” Susan said for the second time that morning. She told Ellen about Dr. Atwater’s house call and said, “Atwater promised it would be handled tactfully, that he’d talk to Scott. What’s the reaction in the department?”

  “Just what you’d expect,” Ellen told her. “Most are shocked, and some have spoken up in your defense, saying it’s ridiculous and so on. Lucy Hernandez and Jim Hofstadter both offered to be character witnesses for you. But others are keeping noticeably quiet—and avoiding me.”

  “And Ernie Westin?” Susan asked.

  “Gloating, of course,” Ellen said.

  “What he doesn’t know is that Atwater put my tenure review off for an entire year.”

  “Really?” Ellen said, and then quickly added, “That means we’ll both come up at the same time.”

  “Yeah, but we won’t be in competition, like Ernie is with the world—and specifically me.” She paused a minute. “Ellen, I didn’t call to talk about tenure. I need some things from my office. Can you get them for me? I’m not supposed to set foot on campus.”

  Ellen giggled. “You can’t set foot anywhere—except on crutches. But, yeah, I’ll get whatever you need.”

  “Good. I may have a plan by the time you get here.”

  “Why do I think I should be worried?” Ellen asked. “I expected you to go into a deep depression over all this, and you sound… activated.”

  “Thank Jake for that,” Susan said.

  * * *

  Ellen came by in the afternoon, carrying a cardboard box full of Susan’s Zane Grey research, her Rolodex, and some other personal items she’d requested.

  “So, what’s your plan?” she asked.

  Susan shrugged. “I haven’t got one yet, and that’s really frustrating me. I know, Ellen, I just know this all hinges on that redheaded stranger, but I don’t know what to do about it.”

  “I suppose,” Ellen said, “you’ll let me know when you decide?”

  Susan looked at her and saw that she was laughing. “Well,” she said ruefully, “I won’t call Jake, that’s for sure.”

  “I am worried now,” Ellen said. She stayed to drink iced tea with Aunt Jenny and let the older woman quiz her about her background, her boyfriends—none at the moment, which made Aunt Jenny shake her head in despair.

  “Well,” Ellen said a shade defensively, “it’s a pretty small campus. Unless I want to go out with Ernie Westin…”

  “That awful man!” Aunt Jenny said. “He’s been almost as unkind to Susan as that terrible Dr. Scott. Now I like that Dr. Atwater that was here the other day…”

  “He’s married already,” Ellen said.

  “Oh, my, I didn’t mean that. I just meant that he’s a nice person.”

  “Maybe,” Ellen said mischievously, “I could steal Jake away from Susan.”

  Aunt Jenny frowned again. “Oh, no, my dear, you mustn’t try that! Jake’s the best thing that’s ever happened to Susan.” She glanced sideways at her niece to see if that offended her, but Susan was paying no attention to their conversation.

  Ellen covered Aunt Jenny’s hand with her own. “I was just teasing, Aunt Jenny. I think Jake is wonderful for Susan.”

  Susan finally tuned in on them. “I’m not so bad for Jake, either,” she said.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” Ellen prompted.

  “Redheaded strangers and cars zooming backward toward me,” Susan said. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to think about anything else.”

  As Ellen left, Aunt Jenny warmly urged her to come for dinner one night, and Ellen bit her tongue to keep from asking, “With Eric Lindler?”

  “I just don’t feel I can cook tonight,” the older woman said. “I’m… you know, I’m so upset by all this.”

  Ellen hugged her. “Don’t be upset, Aunt Jenny. I’m betting on Susan.”

  * * *

  When Jake arrived, Susan announced, “Aunt Jenny doesn’t feel she can cook tonight.”

  “Subie’s Cafe?” Jake suggested.

  “What?” the older woman demanded, trying to sound puzzled. What if that Margie person recognizes me?

  “Come on, we’ll give you some old-fashioned Texas café cooking,” Jake said, gallantly offering his arm to Aunt Jenny and leaving Susan and her crutches to fend for themselves. Susan gave him a black look, but she knew that he had done that deliberately.

  “Looks like the Pioneer Restaurant in Wichita Falls, only worse. Greasier. And smaller,” Aunt Jenny said when they drove up. “Let’s just go home. I’m feeling better. I’ll fix you all a good dinner.”

  “Now, Aunt Jenny,” Susan said, “we’re here, and we’re hungry now. Just wait. It’s your kind of food.” She was too hungry to put up with going back to the house and listening to Aunt Jenny flutter over what to cook.

  “But not,” Jake muttered under his breath, “her kind of cooking.”

  They sat at a booth, and Jake handed Aunt Jenny a plastic-coated menu. She perused it with a frown on her face. “I bet the chicken-fried steak is tough,” she said.

  “It isn’t,” Jake agreed, “and I’m going to order it. Always do.”

  “The hamburgers greasy?” she asked.

  “How can you have a non-greasy hamburger?” Susan asked. “That’s what I’m having. A greasy hamburger with greasy fries.”

  Aunt Jenny sighed. “I guess I’ll have the meatloaf. How can your ruin meatloaf and mashed potatoes?”

  Jake and Susan exchanged long looks.

  As luck would have it, Margie came to take their order. She stared long and hard at Aunt Jenny. “You been in here before? Didn’t I talk to you just a couple of days ago?”

  “Oh, my, no,” Aunt Jenny said. “You must have me mixed up with some other old gray-headed lady.”

  “Guarantee, she’s never been here before, Margie,” Jake said.

  Aunt Jenny noticed that the whole time she took their
order, Margie avoided looking at Susan. When it came time to take her order, the waitress said curtly, “Same as always, Dr. Hogan?”

  “Yes, please, Margie,” Susan said.

  After she left the table, Susan said, “Jake, she’s ignoring me. She knows I’m almost a convicted murderer.”

  “Maybe she reads the newspaper,” Aunt Jenny said, reaching across the table to take her hand. “Now, Susan, you can’t go assuming people think you’re guilty. That will… well, it might convince them. You know what Dr. Norman Vincent Peale said…”

  “Not now, Aunt Jenny. I’m in no mood for Dr. Peale’s brand of positive thinking. I’m more for positive action.”

  Jake bit his tongue so hard he almost said “Ouch!”

  As it turned out the meatloaf was almost up to Jenny’s standards—“a bit too much green pepper in it,” Aunt Jenny said. But the mashed potatoes were satisfactory. Aunt Jenny enjoyed her meal. She told a white lie and said she liked her pecan pie. “Nice, flaky crust. Bet they used lard. Only way to have a light crust.”

  Susan thought she might gag at the idea of eating lard. She was glad she had decided against dessert.

  As they left, Margie said, “I could swear you was the woman ate pecan pie the other day. But she didn’t know Dr. Hogan.” Suspicion laced her voice.

  “Well, I know her,” Aunt Jenny said distinctly. “She’s my niece.”

  They left Margie standing with her mouth agape and went to pay at the cash register.

  “I hope you didn’t leave a big tip, Jake,” Aunt Jenny said.

  On the way home, the three of them jammed into the cab of Jake’s pickup. Aunt Jenny said with determination, “That settles it. I’m cooking for you two as long as I’m here.”

  “Won’t get any argument from me,” Jake said, “but I feel like we ought to give you a break. Tell you what, we’ll take you to The City Restaurant in Fort Worth next weekend.”

  Susan knew he said it spontaneously, but the mention of The City Restaurant conjured up a vivid image of Brandy and the red-haired stranger. And then it gave her an idea—an idea she wouldn’t dare tell Jake.