Never Alone

by C. J. Carpenter

  “What did he do?” Nappa asked.

  “Shannon said he got extremely angry and started to yell and swear at her. I guess he threw a glass against the wall. She sounded pretty rattled when she called me.”

  “Did she say she was threatened by him, anything along those lines?”

  Megan could see that Kate wanted badly to say yes, but it wasn’t the truth. “No. She said he had his meltdown and then left.”

  “Are you absolutely sure about that?” she asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay.” Megan knew to choose her words very carefully. “Other than yourself, who may she have confided in? Who were some of her other girlfriends, or guy friends, for that matter?”

  Katelyn’s defiant glare was enough to prepare them for her next comment. “I know everything there is to know about Shannon. I mean, I’m sorry, but what more can I tell you?” She looked at both of them defensively. “We’re best friends.”

  The leather couch made a rubbing noise as Megan leaned in closer to Katelyn. Her adamant tone was unmistakable. “Katelyn, this isn’t about how close the two of you were; this isn’t about where you were on the totem pole of friendship with Ms. McAllister. We’re trying to find out how and with whom she spent the last few weeks of her life. You weren’t with her twenty-four hours a day. No one can be there one hundred percent of the time—for anyone.” Megan’s mother-daughter guilt trickled through her last comment. “We need your help.”

  Katelyn rubbed her forehead hard enough to incur a partial face-lift. “I know. I’m sorry. Let me think.” She took out another tissue and started to blot underneath each eye. “Well, there’s one woman from work. Shannon would go out for drinks with her every so often. She was assigned as Shannon’s mentor when she started her internship.” She searched for the woman’s name. “It’s Linda or Laura, something like that. Her last name was … Christ … um … I’m trying to think of it.”

  “I have a list of initials that we haven’t yet been able to match up with anyone from her address book, if that helps.” Nappa handed Katelyn the printout he’d compiled.

  Katelyn forced a smile. “Jesus, she’s been doing that since freshman year. I once tried to read her schedule to meet up with her after class one day. She had AH written on her calendar. So, like a jerk, I walked clear across campus to Anderson Hall, where some of her classes were. She wasn’t there. The AH stood for auburn highlights. She was out getting her hair done.” Katelyn shook her head at the memory. “Let me take a look.” She studied the list. “Here it is, LB, that’s it. It’s Lauren Bell, or Lauren Beall, something like that, and PG, that has to be our girlfriend in Brooklyn. Her name is Paige Gowan. I can give you her number. But she’s in London right now. I called her there this morning to let her know about Shannon. She’s going to try to come back for the funeral.”

  Nappa wrote the names down on the printout.

  “Thank you. That helps,” Megan added, trying to alleviate her bully-detective status.

  “Believe me, I wish I had more information for you. She was my best friend. The kind of friend you think you’re going to have your whole life. And now …”

  She began to sob. Her tears virtually leapt from her eyes as if in a race to see which could reach her jaw line first. Most were caught by the crumpled tissues she held tightly; some fell onto her lap, while others made their way to the wooden floor.

  Megan knew this was as much as they were going to get from Shannon’s best friend this morning. She tapped Nappa’s arm, indicating it was time to leave.

  “I think we’ve taken up enough of your time for now. We’re going to leave our cards. If you think of anything, please call us. We may need to speak with you again at some point,” Megan said.

  “That’s fine. Whatever I can do to help. I don’t know how something like this could happen. You didn’t know Shannon. No one was as good as she was. How could someone do this to her? I just don’t understand it.”

  “We’ll be in touch.”

  Katelyn didn’t get up to show them out of the apartment. She sat and stared at the picture of her and Shannon.

  This time Nappa pressed the elevator button.

  “Did you notice the photo? The one of them on vacation?”

  “I looked at it.”

  “The Claddagh ring was on a different hand, and facing the wrong direction.”

  Nappa shook his head. “She said the vacation was only a few months ago. Maybe that’s when the victim had a change of heart and turned it around.”

  “No, Nappa. The ring was in the position of being taken. Kate said it was just a few weeks ago they broke up, or fought. And then she’s found with the ring on the opposite hand, symbolizing she’s open to love.”

  “But she was, McGinn. She dumped the professor, and she must have moved the ring—that’s what makes sense.”

  “If she was hung up on this guy as much as Katelyn said, she wouldn’t have done that so soon. At least I couldn’t. When my ex-fiancé and I broke up, it took months for me to move my ring. I don’t buy it. Give Palumbo and Rasmussen a call. Tell them we’ll meet up with them at the college. I think we should have a chat with Professor Love.”

  “I’ll get them on the cell and see where they are.”

  eleven

  Megan and Nappa walked through the outdoor plaza of Columbia University. They were meeting Detectives Palumbo and Rasmussen in front of the Low Memorial Library next to Alma Mater, a bronze sculpture by Daniel Chester French, famous for his design of the Abraham Lincoln statue in Washington, D.C. The Low Memorial Library was distinguished as having the largest all-granite dome in the country and was built to resemble a Greek amphitheater. It’s also the central social scene for Columbia University students to study, sunbathe, or just hang out before and after classes.

  Megan couldn’t help but notice the youthful surroundings: fresh faces, collegiate attitudes, fashionista wannabes, fashion disasters only youth could account for. Many were on iPhones, and most had computers in tow.

  “Is it me or do some of these students look really young?”

  Nappa smiled and looked around at the students in the plaza. “It’s not that they look really young, it’s that you’re getting older.”

  Megan rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’m hours away from my first Social Security check. Remember, Nappa, you’re older than I am.”

  “I knew that comment was coming.”

  It wasn’t difficult to spot Palumbo and Rasmussen; both wore dark suits and their posture was as stiff as the statue they stood next to. Detective Rasmussen greeted them by raising his index finger as if motioning for the check in a restaurant.

  “Hi guys, what do you have so far?” Megan asked.

  Detective Palumbo opened a small notepad as reference. “First off, nothing came through on the database. No cold cases with the MO of the jewelry in the …”

  “Crotch,” Megan finished flatly.

  “Uh, yeah. We were at the victim’s building earlier. We went through again to see if any neighbors could offer anything. There’s still a handful that we haven’t been able to connect with, so we’ll go back. No one we’ve spoken to saw or heard anything out of the ordinary. Most of the stores near her building”—he gestured using his thumb—“the dry cleaner’s, the florist, and the hair salon, all closed by eight o’clock. The deli was open, but the owner didn’t remember anything peculiar. He did say he remembered seeing her a few days ago when she picked up some groceries.”

  “Did he remember if she was alone or anything?” Megan regretted how testy her question sounded.

  “Alone,” Rasmussen answered.

  “Did you get her class schedule and list of professors?” Megan asked.

  Rasmussen handed the list to Megan. She scanned through the names of Shannon’s professors, hoping to find anything close to the name “Brower” that Katelyn Moore
spoke of. Nappa got Rasmussen and Palumbo up to speed on their talk with Shannon’s best friend.

  “Here he is, Professor Bauer. Last name spelled B-a-u-e-r.” Megan double-checked the list again. It was the only name that came close. “This must be him. Nappa and I will start with Bauer. Why don’t you guys go to the counseling office where McAllister interned and see if you can come up with anything there?”

  “Got it,” Palumbo said.

  Rasmussen hadn’t taken his sunglasses off, though it was a cloudy day. “We’ll be in touch.”

  Megan gave the paper to Nappa to review. “Definitely him. Let’s go.”

  _____

  Professor Bauer’s secretary sat outside his office at an oversized wooden desk. The turquoise-colored glasses halfway down her nose were attached to a chain resembling rosary beads. Her hair was cut butch short and she wore a dark suit with a thin scarf tied tightly around her neck. Her appearance aged her; so did her stern disposition. She didn’t look up as Megan and Nappa entered. She was busy opening envelopes with a letter opener large enough to have decapitated Marie Antoinette.

  Megan whispered to Nappa as they approached her, “The happy-go-lucky type. You go for it.”

  “Hello, I’m Detective Nappa, and this is my partner, Detective McGinn. We’re here to speak to Professor Bauer.”

  They showed her their badges, but she was unimpressed by their credentials, since she didn’t even take the time to look up at them.

  “Do you have an appointment?” She was as personable as a drill sergeant ordering fifty push-ups.

  Megan rolled her eyes. “No.”

  Nappa looked down at her nameplate. “Ms. Crawford, we don’t have an appointment, but it’s very important we speak with him.” He smiled, attempting to use his charm on her. Getting a cobra to play nice would have been easier.

  She finished opening a large envelope and picked up the phone. “Professor Bauer, there are two police detectives here requesting to speak with you. They do not have an appointment.”

  Mrs. Crawford hung up, continuing sorting through the day’s mail. “Go in. He has ten minutes until his next meeting.”

  “Thank you so much, you’ve been very helpful.” Megan looked over at Nappa and within earshot of Ms. Crawford said, “Y’know, I’ve always felt direct eye contact is crucial in making a good first impression.”

  Professor Martin Bauer sat all too confidently in his wide-backed red leather chair. His hands were steepled in front of his face, covering a slight grin. His thick, dark hair was swept back underneath the glasses he positioned atop his head. He wore a jacket and tie, but with a more casual effect, not the stodgy professor-with-a-pipe stereotype. His slightly oversized wrinkled white shirt, loose tie, and dark pants looked as though he pulled an all-nighter in a nightclub, instead of grading papers.

  This is Professor Love? More like Professor Pompous.

  “Yes, come in. And you are?”

  “I’m Detective Megan McGinn, and this is my partner, Detective Nappa, NYPD.” They both flashed their badges.

  “I can only presume why you’re here. Sit down.” He motioned to two small red leather chairs positioned in front of his desk. Nappa sat, but Megan declined. The demand in his tone was enough for her to ignore him and lean against the armoire in his office.

  “Obviously, you’re here because of the tragic death of one of my students, Shannon McAllister.”

  The professor’s arrogance could have set Megan off, but she kept her wits about her, for the most part. “It wasn’t a tragic death, it was a brutal murder,” Megan said.

  Let the pissing contest begin.

  “That’s what I meant.” A glare replaced his smug grin and he directed it at Megan.

  “Student or lover?” Megan asked without the bat of an eyelash. “Or both?”

  “You know it was both or you wouldn’t be asking.”

  “You’re married, aren’t you?” Megan asked.

  He held up his left hand and showed his wedding ring to Megan but replied to Nappa, ignoring Megan completely, “She’s good, Detective.”

  Nappa stared Professor Bauer down long enough for him to get the hint there would be no male bonding in the near future.

  “Yes, I’m married. Yes, I had an affair with Shannon. No, I did not kill her.”

  Megan answered without missing a beat, even though his mocking tone made her wince inside. “Great, I guess that’ll be all, then.”

  “You actually think I’ve gone unaffected by her death? Do you honestly think I can go about my day and not think about how this young woman was brutally murdered?”

  “From where I’m standing, you seem to be handling it quite well,” Megan responded.

  “We don’t all wear our feelings on our sleeves, Detective. I was shocked when I found out about Shannon’s murder. Shocked and incredibly saddened.”

  “You seem incredibly saddened,” Megan said with as much excitement as someone about to undergo a colonoscopy.

  Nappa interceded, “Professor, why don’t we start with the last time you saw Ms. McAllister.”

  Bauer’s disdain for Megan was obvious, and it was more than clear it was mutual. He pulled out his daily planner and began sifting through the pages.

  “Let’s start with professionally seeing her,” Nappa added.

  “Well, that would be at the end of last week. She was auditing one of my classes, so she would sit in once a week.” He glanced through his itinerary and confirmed his statement, then repeated himself. “Yes, the end of last week.”

  “Did the two of you speak that day?” Nappa asked.

  “No. It was a very busy morning. I had two morning classes, a business lunch, and then meetings for the majority of the afternoon.”

  “Who was the lunch with?” Nappa asked.

  “My editor. I’ve written a book, and I was meeting with her to go over a few business matters.”

  “Is that a strictly professional relationship, or did you cross the line with her too?” Megan asked.

  He leaned back in his leather chair. “I’m not her type. She’s attracted more to cold, hostile women who exhibit penis envy. Want her number?”

  Megan put one finger up to her temple and mocked, “Note to self: add ‘cold, hostile, and exhibits penis envy’ to my Match.com profile.” She continued to lean against the armoire, her arms crossed, staring him down. Nothing threw Megan off, much less a narcissistic professor. “When was the last time you saw Shannon romantically?”

  “That would have been two, maybe three weeks ago.” He began tapping the end of a pencil against the legal pad again.

  “How long were the two of you seeing one another?” Nappa asked.

  “Eight months. Give or take.”

  “How did it start?” Nappa asked.

  “We were working on a research project, spending many late nights together. One thing led to another and we started seeing each other. It’s not something I orchestrated or even wanted at first. It just—”

  Megan interrupted, “Evolved.”

  He stared at Megan a moment longer than needed. “Yes.”

  “Were you in love with her?” Nappa asked.

  He sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  Professor Martin Bauer suddenly became more sensitive than when they first entered his office. His answer sounded sincere now, more than previously, anyway.

  Megan almost believed he cared for Shannon, almost.

  “Not enough to leave your wife for, though, right? What about your wife, Professor?” Megan asked.

  “She didn’t know anything about us, and she still doesn’t,” he answered. “Shannon was a very idealistic spirit. She only saw the good and the possibilities in everything. She couldn’t see the barriers to our situation.”

  “Your situation meaning marriage, children, an
d a whole other life?” Megan asked.

  “Make your point.” Professor Bauer’s patience was thinning.

  Doesn’t take much to push you very far, huh? Megan wondered if Shannon had pressed any of the same buttons.

  “Who broke off the affair?” Nappa asked.

  “It was mutual.”

  “So, both of you decided to end it, and there were no hard feelings, for either of you?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Really?” Megan asked.

  “Why don’t I cut to the chase, Detectives? You’re obviously having problems doing so.” With his last comment, he made direct eye contact with Megan. “I’m an adulterer, yes. I’m probably even an asshole,” he conceded.

  “Probably?” Megan interrupted. She didn’t expect an answer.

  Professor Bauer scoffed at Megan’s dig. “All right, so I’m an asshole. But I am not a killer. I could never hurt her. Why don’t you ask me where I was the night she was murdered? Isn’t that an obvious line of questioning?”

  They knew he wouldn’t have offered the information if he didn’t have a good alibi.

  Nappa bit. “Where were you the night before Ms. McAllister was killed?”

  His pompous attitude returned. “I was giving a speech at an alumni dinner. Over one hundred people can account for my presence.”

  “What time did you leave the dinner?” Megan asked.

  “Cocktail hour was at seven p.m., dinner at eight p.m., and my wife and I left around eleven p.m. We drove with another couple. We arrived home a little after midnight.”

  “Actually, Professor, we’re more interested in where you were yesterday morning.”

  The question prompted a ricocheted response, “Why?” His tone now turned cautious. “Why yesterday morning?”

  “Ms. McAllister was murdered in the morning.”

  “I see.” A hint of perspiration broke free over his brow, “Well, yesterday morning I was driving into the city for class.”

  “Do you own an E-ZPass?”

  “Yes, of course. I do the drive countless times a week.”

  “Mmm. We’ll be checking on that,” she said.