Murder on Edwards Bay (The Maude Rogers Crime Novels Book 2)

by Linda L. Dunlap

  The weather was good, clear and heady with a light north wind, a precursor of the cold front that was coming. The two detectives made small talk on the way to the university and Lilly Ann’s place. Both were thinking of recent events, the man who was spying on them and Jesus Jones gone missing. It didn’t bode well, and they both knew it. Determined to keep her mind on things ahead, Maude gave Joe directions to Lilly Ann’s house, hoping to catch her niece still at home. She punched in the gate code, and the street opened up to them.

  “This niece of yours, what if I like her?”

  “Fine with me, better you like her than don’t.”

  “Yeah, but I mean really like her?”

  “Well, let’s get the mystery over with and see if you do. Pull into this driveway. This is where she lives with her mother.”

  The garage door was still closed, a fact that made Maude believe Lilly Ann had waited for her before leaving. The front door was unlocked and Maude tapped on the hard wood, lightly at first, then a little harder, to keep from frightening the girl. She had heard a lot of bad news at one time and didn’t need to get the pants scared off her.”

  “Lilly Ann, it’s your Aunt Maude. The door is open, so we came in. Where are you?”

  The house was quiet, no radio or television noise in the background, an empty sitting room, kitchen. The car was in the garage, Maude recognized Lilly Ann’s gray Audi, her salute to class. She opened the car door, smelling the leather seats and polished console, a really nice car, Maude thought.

  “I guess she got a ride to the university this morning and forgot to leave us a message.” Maude said, wishing it had been different. Lilly Ann was special to her, the only relative she really knew. “I called the dean yesterday and told him we would be there early this morning. Maybe we’ll see her on campus.”

  Joe was quiet, sitting in the passenger seat, enjoying the morning, thinking a variety of thoughts. Riding in the car with Maude was a lot better since she quit smoking those foul unfiltered cigarettes inside, not that he minded so much, but it was better. He wondered about his two kids, wishing there was some way he could see them more, but Sheila, his ex-wife had told them he didn’t love them, convinced them he was a bad person, a terrible father. They refused to be around him, always had somewhere they needed to be.

  “We’re here, Maude told him. “Where were you?”

  “Just thinking about the case.” He said.

  “Okay. Well, let’s go to the dean’s office. I’d like to get in Doctor Dennis’s office, providing it hasn’t been sealed by the group that oversaw his work. I haven’t had a fight with a stuffed shirt in a long time, so one may be coming. Just warning you.”

  “I have your back, Partner.”

  The woman at the reception desk was the same one who chastised Maude for not having an appointment on her first trip to the Dean’s Office. Her desk was covered with stacks of papers, the orderliness had so straight a grouping that a person of substance could see that this woman was in control of her life and all its tributaries, defying anyone to disturb the sangfroid of her existence.

  “Hello, do you remember me, Mrs. Clark?”

  “Yes, I seem to recall you were here to see Dean Stone and did not have an appointment. Am I correct?”

  “Correct. I need to see him again. No appointment, but I did call him.”

  “I’m sorry, but the dean is a busy man in the midst of a budget meeting. He can’t possibly be disturbed.”

  “Yes, I’m sure he is busy, but then so am I. Mrs. Clark, I don’t want to be a jackass, but if you don’t call him and tell him I’m here, I swear I’ll just walk right in on him and whoever he’s chatting with. I know you don’t want that.”

  Mrs. Clark blanched, swallowing hard, not once, but several times at the audacity presented before her. “I will call and see if he is available,” the woman whispered, her orderly world threatened.

  In a moment, she silently motioned for Maude to go on in, aplomb recovered, the austere expression back though considerably diminished.

  Maude shook her head and chuckled, “I get ‘em, don’t I?’

  The dean’s office door was unlocked, his conversation confined to the telephone which sat near his hand, the conference function in use. He noted that Maude had entered the room and put his call on hold.

  “I fear the bad news you bring is worse than we had thought.”

  “Yes, that’s true. I don’t believe anyone ever considered that your professor and a student were dead and not just missing. I am sorry for the loss of these two.”

  “Thank you, Detective Rogers. It is a terrible thing to consider. Great losses to the medical world.”

  “Now, Dean Stone, we have a situation. My partner, Joe Allen and I need unfettered access to any and all areas that Doctor Dennis and Jenny Marx either worked or consulted in, including all the professors who had Jenny in their class. I promise we will be discreet and avoid disrupting classes. This could take a few days.”

  “Of course, whatever you need. I do appreciate your consideration, but by all means, find the murderers of those fine people.”

  The door opened, and Joe came through, after being held up parking the car and talking to the lot attendant.

  “Dean Stone, this is my partner, Detective Joe Allen, who’s working with me on this case. I believe I have told you about the sheriff’s shoulder wound caused by a dirty low-down ambusher, otherwise, he would be here himself.”

  Acknowledgements made and greetings over, put Maude and Joe out on campus with maps, schedules, and basic information about each of the victims. Mrs. Clark had recovered completely but seemed snake-bit as far as Maude was concerned. She recoiled whenever the detective stepped close to the desk.

  “What did you do to that nice woman?” Joe asked.

  “Not a thing. Just told her I needed to see the Dean.”

  “Hmm. Why do I not believe you, Maude Rogers?”

  “You have me wrong, young man.”

  “I would like to get a cup of coffee to go with my second cigarette of the day, maybe we can figure out a plan. Let’s find the cafeteria.”

  The university cafeteria was no different from all the school cafeterias in the state, or other states; the coffee boiled and strong after eight o’clock and the servings of food tasteless and in small portions. The two detectives sat down to make a plan since they had the Dean’s permission to begin the search for evidence on campus. There was one small table set aside to accommodate the Neanderthal smokers who continued, even after a lifetime of education. Maude fit in at the table, where two of her ilk sat with thick black liquid in front of them, and a cigarette burning in the ashtray.

  “Excuse me, Joe. I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Maude said, fingering her second cigarette of the day out her pack, the smooth lighter already in motion toward its target. She took her coffee with her and sat at the table with the other smokers. “May I join you?” she asked.

  The other smokers made room, moving around table, welcoming the outcast. “Maude Rogers, homicide detective.” She introduced herself to those at the table. The two had become four, and the table was crowded.

  The smokers all nodded at her, acknowledging her introduction. They were from different sections of the university, their common denominator the tobacco they burned. The man directly across from Maude was curious about her, and asked what she was doing there, was she teaching a class?

  Wondering how much to tell, and how much was already known about her visit there, Maude responded to the queries with as little information as possible, though she added that she would be visiting several areas around campus, and asking some questions about a professor they might know. She noticed one woman, a youngish sort, mousy brown hair, nondescript brown eyes, with what appeared to be a perpetual frown on her face. The woman hurriedly finished her cigarette and jumped up from the table, making her way out of the room.

  “Was it something I said?” she asked the others.

  “Don’t pay att
ention to her, she doesn’t like anyone here. No reason she should like you any better.” The response came from a tiny woman who sat near Maude, her legs so short they did not reach the ground. “Rebecca Stevens, Assistant Professor, Linguistics. Nice to meet you, Detective.”

  “Thank you,” she returned, “The university is good-sized. Are there golf carts a visitor might use to get back and forth?”

  “Well, yes, if you can speak to the maintenance people, they could provide you with one. Let me see if I can get them on the phone.”

  “Much obliged. Ms. Stevens, did you know Doctor Aaron Dennis?’

  “Why yes, I did know him, though not very well. I am sorry to hear of his passing. Word travels quickly on campus,” she said by way of explaining her knowledge. “I knew the girl, the young woman, also. She had classes with me two years ago, before she changed her major.”

  “When was that?” Maude asked, staring at her pack of unfiltereds, knowing it would be several hours until the next one. She sighed, and placed them back in the pocket of her blazer.

  “Well, she changed her major from English Lit to Chemistry. Quite a go-round if you ask me. The reason I remember it all so well is her Chemistry professor came to me, quite surprised with his new student. The uptake was, Jenny Marx had more than enough ability to reverse her choices. She was quite intelligent, you know.”

  Maude’s little book was getting filled, and another such notebook would be needed soon. She reminded herself to make a trip to Wal-Mart to buy a few of the necessities for the job, including more notebooks. Being away from home base meant spending money unnecessarily, sometimes. She bought her notebooks in cases of twenty-four, and had a stack of unused ones in her closet at home.

  “Ms. Stevens, did you know about the affair between Jenny Marx and Doctor Dennis?”

  The woman shook her head sadly. “No, she never talked about it to anyone I knew, but then, I am a teacher, I would be in the last group to find out. Now I have to go get ready to tackle my next class. Nice meeting you, Maude. Hope to see you again.” She stood and shook hands with Maude, looking up into her eyes and smiling.

  Joe had been busy, arranging with the Facilities people to provide them a golf cart to travel back and forth over the campus. Thanks to Rebecca Stevens, the maintenance supervisor set it all up after her call.

  Maude was grateful, her knees and hips had been acting up from the damp weather that always made arthritis worse. The ride to the Chemistry lab was short and bumpy; a few pieces of concrete had broken away from the campus road, causing wheeled traffic a rough ride. She didn’t complain, but remained happy to be off her feet.

  “Find out anything, Joe?”

  “Well, I talked to the people in Facilities. Their opinions of Doctor Dennis were: he minded his own business, didn’t abuse the property in any way, and always arranged his trips off campus ahead of time if vans were needed. They had nothing bad to say about the man. Seems he was a bit of a recluse, but he was entitled to his privacy.”

  “Let’s go see the Chemistry teacher. Find out what we can about Jenny Marx. I’m curious about her change of majors. This professor doubles as a Biology teacher, so I hope we catch him between classes.”

  “Maybe we can get something to eat after that. I’m starved, been a long time since tacos.”

  “That will be fine, Joe. Only thing, I’ve had enough university food in my life to last me. Let’s catch a burger place off campus. Still a little early for me, but maybe I can chase down Lilly Ann; find out why she wasn’t at home this morning.”

  “Are we going to interview Jenny’s parents?”

  “Maybe. It’s a long trip to Florida for an interview. More than likely, they’ll be here for the funeral and we can talk to them afterwards.” Maude thought about the parents of the dead woman, of the many faces she had watched racked with grief in her time. Sometimes the pain from the victim’s family was overwhelming; their lives forever changed by the facts of death; the part of her job that she hated.

  The Chemistry teacher, Assistant Professor Chavez was a new teacher; the other half of the Chemistry Department headed by Professor Paula Bledsoe, a fortyish woman with short frizzy red hair atop an inch of new growth, pale-green intelligent eyes and a sprinkling of freckles. She was of medium height, with skinny calves and ankles supporting several extra pounds in her abdomen. Bledsoe’s overall carriage was at best graceless, but her smile of greeting was warm and friendly, reminding her visitors that beauty was indeed skin deep.

  “Please come in, I hope you’ll forgive the mess, but we are remodeling the office. Have a seat, but mind the paint specks.”

  “Thank you, I’m Maude Rogers, and this is my partner Joe Allen, we’re homicide detectives from Madison, Texas, doing a favor for Sheriff Jack Fuller, over at Rhodes County. He’s got a bad shoulder and can’t get around. Wonder if we might ask you some questions about Jenny Marx and Doctor Aaron Dennis?”

  “I will do what I can to help, even though I don’t see how I can help. Such a sad waste; Jenny Marx was brilliant. I don’t know much about Doctor Dennis, but from what I hear, he was a very dedicated researcher.”

  Maude motioned for Joe to start the interview while she sat back and took notes.

  “Jenny Marx changed her major about two years ago. What can you tell me about her and any reason she gave for that?” Joe smiled his heartbreaker’s smile, his green eyes flashing danger signs to the female population. Paula Bledsoe was neither immune to Joe’s charms nor overcome by them. It was easy for Maude to see that the woman appreciated a handsome man.

  “Jenny came to me in the winter, less than two years ago and said she had decided to change her degree plan radically. She said that Chemistry and Mathematics had always appealed to her, even when she was told that English Education was her forte’. She promised that even though she was behind in her studies, she believed that with hard work and perseverance, she would catch up.”

  “Over the next few semesters, Jenny not only caught up, she surpassed other students in the same program, distinguishing herself in all her classes. She was intent on graduating this year, saying that she had reasons for hurrying. I never asked her what they were, but I don’t think she would have told me had I done so.”

  “Did she ever talk about her personal life with you or anyone in class?” Joe asked.

  “Not to me, but I believe she might have spoken to Mr. Chavez. You are certainly welcome to ask him. As far as Doctor Dennis and his work, I’m afraid I can’t be of any assistance, for I’ve never had more than a nodding acquaintance with him. I’m sorry; I wish I could be of more assistance.”

  “Thank you for your time Professor Bledsoe. You have been a great help.” Maude said, leaving the room. Joe said his own thank you and walked outside, taking some notes, missing a step in his concentration.

  “Joe, I want to find Mr. Chavez, and question him a little before we leave. Did it seem to you that Professor Bledsoe didn’t want to talk about Aaron Dennis?”

  “She did seem a little too eager for us to leave. Maybe we should make it a point to ask a few questions later when she thinks we’re satisfied.”

  The assistant professor had gone to lunch after class was over leaving the two detectives with a few minutes to find food for themselves. They drove the cart to the car, and parked it out of the way, taking the key to the small vehicle.

  A sign one block down advertised fish and fries, root beer and other fast foods. They both agreed a change of pace would be a treat. After the crunchy pieces of cod were delivered, doused with vinegar, and loaded with tartar sauce, Maude decided she had found another favorite food. Eating twice in the same day was unusual, but the tacos that morning had been less than filling.

  The afternoon had progressed, and the wind was up, bringing colder temperatures, an impetus to hurry with their interviews. The next step, they decided was to separate, with Joe interviewing one person and Maude another.

  In the back of her mind a little nagging worry had s
tarted about Lilly Ann. She hadn’t called her aunt all day, even though Maude had left her several voice mails. She decided to give Joe heads up.

  “Joe, I have to tell you, I’m getting worried about my niece. She should have called me by now. If you don’t mind, I’m going to run by the house and see if her mother is there. She was supposed to be back home today from a quick trip to Houston. Probably Lilly Ann is with her, but I have to know. Think you can carry on without me?”

  “No problem, Partner.” Joe said, concerned by Maude’s attitude. “Go ahead, I’ll take over here while you do that. Let me know if there’s a problem.”

  The house on Caldwell Street was undisturbed since morning; Lilly Ann’s car still sat in the garage, with no one in the house. Maude had locked the door when she left, but she knew where the spare key was kept. Jean’s car was still gone, but Maude figured she was on her way back from Houston.

  Opening the door was different from the same activity of the early morning. This time there was reason to look and see with a different eye. The investigator searched for abnormalities, for unfinished activities, for signs that a day’s schedule had been interrupted. On the kitchen counter was a full cup of mocha latte, Lilly Ann’s special drink, one that Maude detested, but the girl had to have in the morning to start her day. The toaster held one-half of a bagel, burned on the edges, cold from its ejection from the machine at an earlier time.

  In the refrigerator a bag was standing on the shelf, a lunch packed for the day, still waiting for Lilly Ann to pick-up and carry to school. The bedroom was next; its tidiness reflective of the girl’s character, the only flaw, the thin robe on the floor near the closet. The signs were there, everywhere. Why didn’t she look for them early in the day?

  She finished the search, going room to room, finding the tell-tale clues, her niece was missing. The answer machine on Jean and Lilly Ann’s house phone was blinking, full of messages from concerned friends throughout the day.

  “Where are you? You missed lunch, girlfriend. You should see the mess in the hallway this morning; Dodie was puking everywhere.” They went on until the machine had filled to capacity. Maude’s belly was growling, it always happened, the precursor to diarrhea that stress and anxiety brought on, a leftover from the ten year old girl who lay shivering in her bed, mutely waiting until her father finished his unholy ministration upon his daughter’s mattress.