by Jade Astor
Darian blinked. Was Argo suggesting that when the case was over, they could start seeing each other again? Just like that, as though he hadn’t fingered Darian as a possible suspect and then arrested his friend for the crime?
Oddly enough, Darian wasn’t as opposed to the idea as he knew he ought to be.
Chapter 11
As soon as he left the station, Darian headed home to his computer. There, he spent a couple of hours researching lawyers who would be sympathetic to Aaron’s plight. He found several who had listed their services on a progressive website, crosschecked their references and reviews, and made a few calls to their offices. No one picked up at the first two offices, which wasn’t surprising given that the workday was almost over. His third attempt reached a tough-sounding female defense attorney who promised to head right over to the jail and sort things out. She seemed to assume Darian was Aaron’s boyfriend and spent more time reassuring him than he really required. He decided Aaron could provide a more detailed explanation, thanked her, and hung up.
Assuming Aaron might need him to post bail or give him a ride home, he kept the phone close at his side while he moved on to another search. This time he scored the internet for records relating to the earlier death in the Birchwood pond. Since it had happened so long ago, and Birchwood had presumably not been eager to publicize the incident, he found nothing beyond a barebones account that had appeared in the local newspaper. The sparsely worded article implied that the teacher, Mr. A. Roderick Talbott, had died in an unfortunate accident involving a slippery bank and an enfeebled older man. The reporter had clearly been careful not to offend anyone connected with Birchwood. Perhaps he was an alumnus himself.
Still, a thirst for more information about the incident nagged at him. Pocketing his phone, he headed back to his car and drove to campus. The library was almost deserted, thanks to Jeanette Wexler’s canceling all classes and meetings in deference to Timothy’s memorial service that morning. Luckily, a single student worker sat behind the front desk doing his math homework.
“Do you know where I could find old campus newspapers or yearbooks? I want to go back about twenty years,” Darian told him.
“Archives,” the young man told him. “Go past the periodical room and take a left. Most of the stuff is in glass cases, but they’re not locked. You can leave it on the tables when you’re finished.”
“Thanks.”
The smell of fading ink and decaying paper rose from the dingy volumes stored in the archives, and a puff of dust flew out of the binder Darian selected. Birchwood’s venerable student paper, ironically titled The Parchment, contained a single article that reported Roderick Talbott’s demise without details. “Died suddenly,” was the euphemism of choice. A later issue recounted a memorial service on a much smaller scale than Timothy Pryor’s. The headline read, “Mr. Talbott, a Birchwood legend, laid to rest.” The write up that followed proved perfunctory in the extreme. The final paragraph noted that a memorial would soon be erected beside the pond that Mr. Talbott had loved. This, Darian realized, was the stone shelter where Timothy had accosted him the day before his own death. So there was a connection, after all, though not in the way he expected.
Yearbooks from that time period provided slightly more information. Glossy black and white pages depicted Mr. Talbott posing with his colleagues and supervising the journalism club. One photo showed him giving direction to a student editor identified as Quinton Fisher. Darian couldn’t help smiling at the youthful Quin’s thick glasses and chubby, acne-ravaged cheeks.
The Roderick Talbott in the pictures did not look the way Darian had imagined him. He had pictured a portly figure, bald and bespectacled, with a dejected expression. Instead, the figure in the photos was tall and wiry, his face alive with what Darian interpreted as intellectual energy. He did not seem in the least depressed. But that was before shame and scandal threatened to destroy his image and his legacy at Birchwood. He’d devoted his life to his students, though eventually that devotion had apparently crossed a line. The prospect of public humiliation must have been unbearable. And ultimately, it had killed him.
He’d left a suicide note, Everett said. What exactly had Roderick’s last note said? Under what conditions had he written it? And how much would Timothy have known about that earlier death?
On his way back to the parking lot, he detoured and headed back to the pond. Now that he knew the story behind the creation of the stone shelter, he was curious to take a closer look at the plaque on its side. Sure enough, the engraving he had never bothered to examine before really did spell out the name A. Roderick Talbott, along with the years of his birth and his death. He had been sixty-five years old at the time of his drowning. Right on the verge of retirement, which he might well have viewed as exile from the school where he had spent most of his life. Had that fear also motivated his terrible decision?
From the steps of the shelter, Darian scanned the muddy banks, deceptively peaceful now, and tried to grasp the magnitude of what had happened there. Two lives, one well advanced and one just beginning. One ending in apparent disgrace, the other in squandered potential. Both outcasts, in their own way. Both rebels, bucking the system until, inexorably, it swallowed them up.
Maybe the connection was merely symbolic. Even if Timothy had heard the rumors, Darian could see no reason for him to identify with A. Roderick Talbott. If anything, Timothy would likely have viewed him as a pathetic figure deserving scorn.
Sighing, he started back toward campus. Time to think about dinner, since he’d eaten nothing since the shrimp puffs at the memorial service. By now, his stomach was churning, though not only from hunger. Lately, it seemed like every day brought a fresh shock to his system. And he doubted the seismic activity had ended yet. And of course, he would have to work in a call to his moms as soon as possible, or they’d be sending the cops to his house for a wellness check. Now that would make an interesting scenario.
He’d only a gone a few yards when he saw someone walking toward him. At first, the shadow of the trees obscured the newcomer’s identity. Then a shaft of muted sunlight limned a face Darian recognized.
“Darian?” a familiar voice asked hopefully.
“Aaron! Are you okay?” Exhaling in relief, Darian closed the distance between them. Aaron lifted his arms a little, but something made Darian stop just short of embracing him.
“Yeah. My new lawyer got me released without charges. Thanks so much for finding her.”
“No problem. I’m glad it worked out.”
“I didn’t even have to spend the night in jail. I’ve retained her to defend me, and it didn’t even cost as much as I expected. I think she was intrigued by the case.”
“I can imagine. The whole thing must sound pretty juicy to outside observers. Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s okay. She practically told me the same thing, though in different words. She said she savored the challenge. After she got me out, she drove me back here, where my car was still parked. Unfortunately, the sheriff had it towed so he could search the contents. Bastard.”
Darian nodded. He was inclined to defend Argo as simply following procedure, but didn’t think Aaron would care much for that argument. “Do you need a ride home?” he asked.
“Nah. I have that same Uber driver coming for me in a few minutes. I told him I’d meet him out here. Luckily he didn’t hold the other night against me. I guess he realized that we all make mistakes once in a while.”
“Yeah. That we do.”
“I also talked to Jeanette,” Aaron went on, his moth turning down at the mention of the headmistress. “I’ve been suspended until this whole mess is cleared up. This could well be the last time you’ll see me on campus.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“Oh, I don’t care. They have to pay me until I either get fired or resign. If I were you, I wouldn’t place a bet on which will happen first. I’ll leave my new lawyer to figure all that out. The truth is, I’m relieved
to be free of this place. I can be myself now. It’s like a huge anchor has been lifted off my neck. I’m ready to walk off campus for the last time with my head held high. And it’s all because of you, Darian. I can’t thank you enough for coming to my aid when I needed you most.”
“It’s okay. I did what anyone would do.” Darian blushed as Aaron stepped closer to him. Despite being accused of murder, he really did look happier than Darian had ever seen him.
“No, Darian. You’re wrong there.” Aaron stretched out a hand as though he wanted to shake Darian’s. “You’re special. Really special. I’ve always known it.”
Darian started to reach back, but stopped, astonished, as Aaron pulled him up against his chest. Then he leaned forward and kissed him full on the mouth.
The kiss didn’t last long, but at the same time it was more than an exploratory peck. To Darian’s surprise, it wasn’t exactly unpleasant. It wasn’t all that comfortable, either. He stood there stock-still, neither resisting nor encouraging. Seeming not to notice his lack of reaction, Aaron sighed and reluctantly eased his lips away.
“Wow,” he said. “That was worth the wait. I’ve been watching you since the beginning of the year, you know.”
“No. I didn’t.” Darian backed away. He didn’t want to hurt Aaron’s feelings, but at the same time, he didn’t want to encourage a repeat performance.
“All this time, I didn’t dare tell you how I felt. But now I understand why I was so unhappy with Caryn. It’s not that I don’t want commitment, like I thought at first. It’s that I don’t want it with a woman.”
“Aaron, take it easy. There’s no need to blurt all this out. Your emotions are running high after all you’ve been through today.”
“Yeah, you think?” Aaron forced a laugh. It came out shrill and unnerving. “I guess in a strange way I owe Timothy. He made me see the truth. I resented it at the time, but now I’m grateful. And he didn’t deserve what happened to him, no matter what his flaws.”
“That’s for sure.” Darian resisted the urge to look over his shoulder. Where in hell was Aaron’s Uber driver?
“I don’t mean to freak you out or pressure you. But I had to tell you how I felt.”
“I appreciate your honesty. But I…”
Aaron held up a hand. “You don’t have to say anything. I know we can’t…you know…deal with this right now. I just…you know…had to get that out of my system. And I want you to know that when you’re ready to talk, I’m waiting for you.”
“Okay. Yeah. I understand.”
“Don’t worry. I didn’t imagine you felt the same about me as I do about you. But there’s no harm in fantasizing, right?”
“I admit I never thought about you that way.” Darian cleared his throat. “It didn’t occur to me. You know, I thought of you as an engaged man.”
“Is that still a problem? Because I’m not engaged. Not anymore.”
“I don’t know. I…uh…I’d need some time to think about it.”
“You were there once, too, right? All guys like us were. Only most of us haven’t been accused of murder. That’s just me. I’m lucky that way, I guess.”
A cloud moved over them, and the water darkened along with the sky. The surface, strewn with dead weeds and floating debris from the trees, glistened like tar. A vague, rotting smell drifted on the wind. Without another word, Aaron turned and hurried away.
Back in his car, Darian dialed Argo’s private number and got his voice mail.
“Call me back as soon as you get this,” he said, his voice shaking a little. “It’s important. Thanks.”
By the time he pulled into his driveway, Argo was already there. He jumped out of his SUV and hurried over the moment Darian turned off his ignition. He taken off his suit jacket and tie and rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white dress shirt. Darian couldn’t deny that modified formal was a good look on Argo. But then, it seemed most everything was.
“What happened? Are you okay?” he demanded as Darian stepped out of his car. “Macklin came after you, didn’t he?”
“Well, yes, though not in the way you might think. Don’t worry. I’m fine.”
“I knew I should have had him followed. That damned lawyer of his—” Argo lifted his cell phone and started punching in a number. “Don’t worry. I’ll have Cutler go out and scoop him right back up. He won’t get out of this one so easily. This time it’s an assault charge at the very least.”
“Whoa, whoa, wait a second, Argo. Please!” Darian thrust his open palm over Argo’s number pad to prevent him from completing the call. “Stop. Aaron didn’t assault me. He didn’t even threaten me. He only…kissed me.”
“He wha…?”
“Come inside and we’ll talk.”
Stone-faced, Argo fell into step beside Darian as he walked up the driveway and unlocked the front door. He motioned Argo to a seat at the kitchen table and filled him in, as succinctly as possible, on the strange conversation he’d had with Aaron at the pond. He downplayed the urgency and near-desperation he’d sensed in Aaron’s kiss, making it sound more like an experiment than a profession of long-suppressed desire. Even so, he was sure he detected a flash of something stronger than irritation in Argo’s frost-blue eyes. He knew he didn’t imagine the muscle twitching on his stubble-shadowed jaw.
“I’m glad you told me about this,” Argo said slowly when he finished. “Aaron won’t be thrilled when he finds out you spilled his secrets, though.”
“He didn’t swear me to secrecy. Quite the opposite, in fact. He seemed ready to burst out of the closet like a firecracker.”
Argo’s only response was a grunt.
“There was something else, too,” Darian went on. “Apparently he had a meeting with Jeanette Wexler. He’s been placed on leave…indefinitely, I suspect. He seems to have no intention of going back to Birchwood.”
“I know something about that,” Argo admitted. “I had a call from the headmistress almost as soon as I got Macklin booked into jail. She wanted to know if he’s going to be charged with Timothy’s murder.”
“What did you tell her?”
“What could I say? I told her we had an open investigation and couldn’t comment further. Apparently that was enough for her to act on. I don’t blame her. It’ll be a bit more difficult to keep tabs on him if he’s not at work, but it’s safer for everyone if he stays away from the students. I’d prefer that he stayed away from you, too.”
“Argo, I have to be frank with you. Aaron might have some…ah…romantic challenges, but I still don’t see him as a murderer.”
“But you don’t see him as the person you thought you knew, either. Am I right? What he told you at the jail…that scene at the pond….you never saw any of that coming, did you?”
“I guess not.”
“So who’s to say he hasn’t hidden other personality traits from you, too? Sociopaths don’t have a special tattoo on their foreheads, you know. They operate by blending in, going to work, acting like everyone else. But the key word is acting. They don’t care about anyone else’s feelings or rights. They don’t feel remorse. And when someone gets in their way, they’re perfectly happy to take them out.”
“I’m sorry, Argo. That doesn’t sound like Aaron. He’s my colleague and I think I know him well enough to say that he’s not like that.”
“Okay. I won’t press the issue. I’ve said my piece.”
Darian nodded, relieved. “So now that Aaron’s been released, where does your investigation go? I assume he’s not off the hook.”
“No. Just because he’s not in jail doesn’t mean there’s no case against him. We’ll just have to build it more slowly. We’ll haul him back in when we’re ready, lawyer or not. At the rate things are going, he won’t get him out so easily next time.”
“You act like she did something wrong in getting him out. If you didn’t have enough evidence, you should have let him go, Argo. No matter how you feel about him personally.”
“This isn’t pe
rsonal. I go where the case leads me. So far, it’s led me to him.” Suddenly, Argo got up and placed both hands on Darian’s shoulders.
Startled by the gesture, Darian looked up. Argo’s eyes were softer now, his forehead creased with concern.
“You don’t have to tell me how it feels to be lied to and deceived, Darian. The sad fact is that suspects will say whatever it takes to get themselves off the hook. They can look you right in the face and lie to you about their past, their present, even their names. I’m used to it. I realize you’re not. Just trust me on this. I know what I’m doing. If Aaron killed Timothy, I’ll find out. If he’s innocent, I’ll find that out, too. The truth is what I’m after.” Gently he rocked his hands on Darian’s shoulders. “You believe me, don’t you? I want to hear you say it.”
Darian nodded miserably. “Yeah. I do. I know we both want the same thing here. To find out what really happened.”
“I’m glad we can agree on that, anyway.” Sighing, Argo dropped his hands to his sides and returned to his seat at the table. “So do you mind if I asked what were you doing back on campus this afternoon? I didn’t think you’d go back there after…well, after everything that happened this morning.”
“What else?” Darian managed a bitter laugh. “Researching.”
“Stuff for your classes?” Argo sounded doubtful. Darian knew it would do him no good to fib. Besides, he didn’t want to. He wanted Argo to know what he had found out—or attempted to, at least.
“The other drowning in the pond. Roderick Talbott. I sense there’s a connection, Argo. I just don’t know what it could be.”
“Come on, Darian, twenty years? Talk about a cold case!”
“There’s one obvious thread tying both deaths together. It’s something you and I have in common as well.”
“Okay. And….?”
“And that’s what I can’t get past. Frankly, I’m surprised you can.”