Violets Are Blue

by Velvet Vaughn

  "And our guy leaves sonnets at the scene," Turner remarked.

  "You know what they say…those who can do, those that can’t teach," Maya noted.

  "We need to have a chat with him, see if he has alibis for the murders."

  Though Jake would love to be the one to question the little weasel, he knew when to step back. He didn’t want his personal feelings to cloud his judgment on something as important as this. "Do it."

  "Excuse me, Detective Turner? Ready for me?"

  "Yes, please come in," Turner said to the crime scene technician.

  Tony King entered the conference room with a thick folder. "We finally finished sweeping the storage room from the third killing for prints. We were obviously delayed by the fourth murder. My crew has been working pretty much around the clock."

  "We appreciate that, Tony," Jake said. "Make sure you pass along our thanks to your team."

  "We’re just doing our jobs," he said humbly. "I doubt you guys have gotten much sleep the past couple of weeks either."

  No one responded—no one had to. He was right.

  Tony plucked out a sheet of paper and began reading. "There were dozens of prints in the storage room, most belonging to the janitor, Carlos Perez. There were many that we can’t identify. We entered the prints in IAFIS and came back with a couple of hits." The Integrated Automated Fingerprint Identification System was an invaluable tool, allowing prints to be entered into a national database and matches printed out in a matter of seconds. "One was for a DUI arrest and the other a domestic battery charge that was later dropped."

  "Either of those arrests for Todd Timms?"

  Tony scanned his file and shook his head. "His prints were all over the room, but he didn’t have a hit on IAFIS."

  "Hammond, Keller, you two head over to the University this afternoon and have a talk with the professor," Turner ordered.

  "So basically we have nothing conclusive," Tony summarized.

  "Were you able to get prints of Dean Neil Glasgo?" Jake asked.

  Tony checked his list and shook his head. "He wasn’t in his office when we arrived and then after we finished, he'd left for the weekend."

  "There’s something up there," Jake said. "I’m scheduled to meet with him in a couple of hours so I’ll remind him we need his prints."

  #

  Jake waited while Phyllis announced him to the Dean. The older woman reminded him of his grandmother: incredibly sweet but insatiably nosy. He bet she was the gossip queen of the department.

  "The Dean will see you now, honey," she said smiling.

  Jake smiled back. He supposed "honey" was a step up from the names he was usually called. It beat the hell out of "nice".

  "Thanks Phyllis," he said, adding a wink.

  She laughed. "You are a heartbreaker."

  "Takes one to know one."

  "You got that right." They both laughed as he entered the dean’s office. He was happy to note Phyllis closed the door behind him. He wouldn’t put it past her to listen in on the intercom, though.

  "Thanks for seeing me, Dean Glasgo." He stepped forward to shake the man’s hand and noticed him wiping his palm furiously on the leg of his trousers before he returned the gesture. His hand was cold and clammy.

  "Please, have a seat. What can I do for you, Special Agent Kincaid?"

  Jake took the chair in front of the massive mahogany desk and studied the dean with a critical eye. He waited until the man resettled before he started his interview.

  "Just Kincaid," he corrected.

  Glasgo tipped his head, acknowledging his error.

  "As I’m sure you are aware, another young woman was murdered last night. That brings the total to four. All were students of this university and took classes in your department."

  "Yes, I am aware. Such a shame. The last girl," he fumbled around his desk, knocking over a cup holding pens. "Oops," he said, trying to right the holder with shaking hands. "What was her name," he said absently, having finally resettled the cup. "Oh here it is, Sonia Croft. She was a fine student."

  Jake sat motionless while the dean rambled.

  "Loss of life is always a tragedy," he continued. "Especially someone so young."

  "You are also aware that one of your professors found the third victim in your building."

  Glasgo shifted in his seat. "Yes, it’s a tragedy all around." He picked up a stapler and fiddled with it.

  "I need a complete roster of everyone in your department from faculty to administrative personnel. Anyone with access to the building."

  "Yes, of course," the dean quickly complied. "I’ll have Phyllis get right on that." Jake didn’t mention that Phyllis had already given him a copy three days ago.

  "Are you aware of anyone on staff who might have any kind of a criminal record?"

  Thud.

  Jake watched impassively as the stapler hit the desk. Glasgo was hiding something, he was sure of it. The man exhibited all the classic signs of nervousness, including profuse sweating, if the large pools staining the underarms of his light brown sport coat were any indication. Plus the man had not made eye contact once. He wouldn’t be this unsettled about a long-dead ex-con sibling, would he?

  The dean licked his lips and then picked up a glass of water. Jake waited for the man to drink before he said, "We will also be fingerprinting everyone on that list and comparing their prints with any we find in the janitorial closet where the murder occurred."

  Jake shifted sideways as water spewed out of the dean’s mouth. Oh yes, the man definitely had something to hide.

  "I’ll send someone in to get your prints today," Jake added.

  "Er, I, uh, have meetings," the Dean said. "All day."

  "Then you can stop by the station and submit your prints."

  "Uh, yes, yes, sure. I’ll try to do just that."

  Under the guise of helping clean up the mess, Jake took out his handkerchief, wrapped it around the glass and slid it in his pocket.

  #

  Violet had a hard time concentrating on the notes in front of her. She was tired, unable to fall back asleep last night after her latest nightmare. Plus, she still felt apprehensive being in her office, knowing a killer had been in there, had actually pawed through her personal things. She felt violated. Why he would have taken a sweater and a picture that was more than twenty years old baffled her. But take them he had.

  And he had killed again last night.

  She flicked on the desk lamp. She detested the overhead florescent lights but her small office offered no window. Turning back to the notes in front of her, she tried to concentrate but images of Jake kept popping into her head. The way he looked before he leaned in to kiss her. Ever since that night so long ago, she thought she might be permanently damaged psychologically. Shy around men before, Willie Jack made her terrified of them. She'd not trusted a man since her father.

  Some became friends, like Todd, but no man ever made her feel the things Jake did. Until she met him, her sex drive bordered on non-existent. Her sophomore year in college, she finally conquered her fear and slept with a boy. It was awkward and uncomfortable and she didn’t enjoy it at all and because of her, he didn’t either. And he let her know. And everyone else, too. At the first moment of penetration, she froze, nightmares rushing back. But then he pushed all the way inside her and the pain had been almost unbearable. She had been willing, but her body hadn't been ready. He pumped into her until he came, filling her with pain the entire time.

  She waited six years before trying again. New man, same results: painful, uncomfortable and immensely unfulfilling. He hadn’t understood her trauma, hadn’t tried. It was the last time she saw him.

  She had been out on several dates since, but she always stopped short of sex. She knew there was something wrong with her and she didn’t need another person to confirm it again. She was just one of those people who did not like or enjoy physical contact. One more thing Willie Jack had stolen from her.

  But something happene
d last night with Jake, something she hadn’t felt before. Awareness, excitement, desire even. His touch sent shockwaves through her body, short-circuited her nerve endings. For the first time, the thought of lying naked in a man’s arms didn’t make her stomach cramp.

  Knock, Knock.

  "Hello, darling."

  Oh, she was so not in the mood for Todd this morning.

  "Why is it so dark in here?" He flipped on the overhead light. Violet almost growled at him.

  "Professor Anastasia, do you have a minute…oh, I’m sorry."

  Saved by a student.

  "Office hours are in the afternoon, Ms. Menendez," Todd admonished. "You should know that. You can come back—"

  "Please, come in, Jamie," Violet interrupted. She leveled a stern look at Todd. "I told my students they could stop by any time." Smiling, she indicated a chair in front of her desk. "Have a seat."

  Jamie glanced apprehensively between Todd and the chair. "It’s not important. I can come back."

  Todd opened his mouth but Violet cut him off again. "Really, it’s okay. Professor Timms was just leaving."

  Todd squinted, pursed his lips and nodded brusquely. Jamie took a wide berth around him and slid into the chair. He muttered a hasty goodbye and left.

  Some teachers, like Todd, adhered to strict office hours during which students could come by and ask questions. Violet had an open door policy. Her students were invited to stop in any time for any reason.

  Jamie Menendez wanted to ask her advice on a problem she was having with her long-distance boyfriend. He wanted her to quit school and get married. Jamie loved Greek history as much as Violet and didn’t want to give up her dreams. She twirled a long strand of black hair around her finger when she talked, a purely subconscious move, Violet was sure.

  Violet listened to her story and administered guidance as best she could. Jamie was smiling when she stood to leave.

  "I’m sorry Violet, I didn’t realize you had company."

  "I’m leaving," Jamie said. "Thanks again Professor," she said over her shoulder. She smiled at Chris and left.

  Chris waited until Jamie was gone before breezing in looking tall and chic in her designer outfit and matching scarf, the scent of Channel drifting in her wake. Violet returned her brief hug.

  "How are you feeling, honey?"

  "A little better," she said.

  Chris’s brows drew together. "Then you don’t know?"

  Violet nodded sadly. "Another murder."

  Chris’s eyes widened. "How did you hear about it? You were here before the story hit the news."

  "Jake was at my house last night when the call came in."

  Chris smiled. "Do tell."

  "There isn’t much to tell," she admitted. "He had an alarm installed at my house and he came to check it out."

  "Why do you need a security system in Vermont?" Chris asked, genuinely perplexed.

  "Jake was worried the killer might think I saw him the night I found Ella."

  "Oh honey," Chris said, "If he wanted to get you, a security system wouldn’t stop him."

  Violet’s stomach flipped. "Gee, thanks."

  Chris grabbed her hands. "I didn’t mean it like that," she backpedaled. "What I meant was that if he thinks you could identify him, he would have come after you already. He must know that since the police still don’t know his identity, you don’t either."

  "I hadn’t thought about that," Violet admitted. She felt a little better.

  "It’s just a shame about Sonia," Chris said.

  "Sonia?"

  "Sonia Croft. You had her last semester, didn’t you?" At Violet’s nod, she said, "She was in my current Lit class. Not a very good student but willing to work hard."

  Violet rested her head in her palms. "How can this keep happening?"

  "Am I interrupting?"

  Violet’s head snapped up at the deep voice emanating from the open doorway. Jake.

  He nodded at Chris. "Ms. Stark."

  "It’s Chris, Mr. Kincaid," she chided.

  "Please, call me Jake."

  Smiling, she said, "Jake." She made a show of checking her watch. "I have a class soon. I should go."

  With a jaunty wave, she slipped out the door. Jake closed it behind her and then turned to face Violet. Her daydreams didn’t do him justice. He looked tired but incredibly handsome in his dark suit and tie, a thick parka draped over his arm.

  "Violet?"

  "Umm? Oh, yes, please come in." Embarrassed at being caught staring, she busied herself shuffling papers on her desk. She clandestinely watched Jake slide into a chair and stretch out his long, long legs.

  "How are you feeling today?"

  "I was better until I heard about Sonia."

  Jake scratched his chin. "News travels fast," he muttered. "It hasn’t even hit the papers yet. Ms. Stark?"

  Violet’s mouth quirked. "She has connections."

  "Apparently."

  "Jake, Sonia was another of my students."

  He didn’t look surprised. "I was afraid of that."

  "Why is someone doing this?"

  "If we had the answers to that question, there would be a lot less cops in the world."

  Violet nodded resignedly. "I guess you're right." Needing to tamp down the fear that threatened to overwhelm her, she changed the subject. "Did he leave any clues?"

  "We’re working on it," he said evasively. "Besides stopping by to tell you about Sonia, I wanted to see if you would have dinner with me again tonight."

  Violet drew her brows together, contemplating another date with Jake. It really wouldn’t be wise to get involved with someone who would only be around a short amount of time. But that didn’t stop her from wanting to get to know him better, from wanting to be with him. She was falling for him. Hard. "I’d like that."

  Jake smiled. "Good. I’ll see you at six." He got up to leave but turned in the doorway. "And Violet?"

  "Yes?"

  "Be careful."

  With that he was gone.

  #

  The man reread the yellow paper in his hands. A flyer warning women about him? Ha! As if that would stop him.

  The police were incompetent. He was too smart for them. Did they really think this silly leaflet would stop him? Could stop him? They hadn’t been able to catch him before. Hadn’t even come close. Didn’t they know how ridiculously easy it was to reinvent yourself? No, the police would never track him down. He was invincible. He was super-human.

  They certainly hadn’t been able to stop him from killing Kim. Stupid bitch. She deserved every blow he inflicted upon her.

  A sharp pain stabbed at his skull and the man clutched his head, fighting the urge to howl. Why wouldn’t she leave him alone?

  CHAPTER 12

  For the hundredth time, Violet drew back the sheer curtains and scrutinized the driveway. Jake would arrive soon and she was anxious to see him. He mentioned going out to dinner again but Violet decided to stay home instead. She loved to cook but rarely put out the effort for just herself. She stopped at the market after work to purchase ingredients to make Grandma June’s special lasagna recipe. Sinful-smelling garlic bread, a bountiful salad, a bottle of merlot and a boxed cheesecake rounded out the menu.

  The lasagna was prepared and ready to be popped in the oven, the salad tossed, dressed and chilling in the refrigerator. Grandma June’s fine china, crystal goblets and antique candleholders decorated the table. She lit the tapers, clicked on her CD player and tuned Harry Connick Jr. on low in the background. One flip of a switch ignited the flames in the gas fireplace, converted from wood before she moved in, dancing to life, sending out a comforting burst of heat.

  Her house was spotless, as was she. She showered, donned a royal blue tunic with black pants and pulled her hair off her face with a multi-colored flower band. She even applied a touch of makeup and used her favorite perfume, Blue by Ralph Lauren. She even brushed Zeus.

  Her nerves threatened to take over and once again, she paced in f
ront of the window. She knew she had time before he arrived but she couldn’t stand still. What if he really wanted to go out to eat? What if the lasagna didn’t taste good? What if, what if, what if. She was killing herself with what ifs. Zeus watched her from his perch in her leather recliner, his head draped over the arm.

  "It’s okay, baby," she explained. "I’m just freaking myself out. But I’ll take a few breaths, calm down and…ahh!"

  Violet whirled at the sound of the bell. Zeus leapt off the chair and launched into a litany of barking as he sniffed the bottom of the door. She glimpsed the clock. It was too early for Jake. A frisson of fear raced down her spine. What if it was the murderer? Would a serial killer ring the bell?

  She quietly made her way over and peeked through the peephole. After quickly punching the sequence to deactivate her new alarm, she grabbed Zeus’s collar and flung the door open. "Todd. What are you doing here?"

  Todd embraced her in a bear hug. "I just wanted to stop by and see your beautiful face, love."

  Zeus fought to get free. "Sit," she ordered. Reluctantly he planted himself at her feet with a tooth-barring growl.

  Todd pointed at the dog. "Can you tie him up, I really need to talk to you." Violet would never have agreed to lock Zeus up but something was wrong with her friend. He shifted nervously, his brows creased with worry.

  "Sure, I’ll be right back." She crooned to Zeus, promising he wouldn’t be locked in the mud room long. He whined pitifully when she closed the door, breaking her heart. She padded back to find Todd taking in the scene: darkened room, fireplace crackling in the hearth, candles glowing on the table. His face lit up and he smiled broadly. "Is this for me? How did you know I would come by, darling?"

  Violet shifted her gaze. "It isn’t, I mean I didn’t. I am, uh, e-expecting company."

  Todd’s smile evaporated faster than a snowflake in hell, his expression turning stony. He moved into the dining room and examined the table, and then proceeded to the kitchen. "Did you make the lasagna yourself?"

  "Yes."

  "You’ve never cooked for me." He turned to her with an insincere smile. "Well, I guess that tells me everything I need to know. I’d better go before your date arrives."