The Art of Vanishing (A Lila Maclean Academic Mystery Book 2)

by Cynthia Kuhn

  Francisco was already dialing.

  Chapter 14

  An hour later, order had been restored. The chancellor had informed the audience he was truly sorry about “the setback.” He had said this event—“or an equally prestigious one”—would be rescheduled for a future date. Everyone should check the university website for more information.

  The audience had dissipated almost instantly at the request of the police, who had responded to the 911 call very quickly.

  Damon and Mina had been whisked away by the ambulance, sirens flashing. That sound was ominous, as always, and those of us left behind were decidedly out of sorts.

  “That’s the second person who has been carried off this stage this week,” Francisco said glumly. “What is going on around here?”

  “I know,” said Calista somberly. “It’s like we’re cursed.” She absentmindedly readjusted the pale peach fringed scarf she wore over her black wool dress.

  “Don’t say that,” I said soothingly. “Damon just had too much to drink.”

  Francisco snorted. “Probably should’ve seen it coming. He’s a notorious drunk.”

  “You mean he’s an alcoholic,” corrected Calista. “He can’t help it. It’s a disease, you know.”

  “Well, he needs help,” said Francisco.

  I was overwhelmed by a sudden sense of déjà vu. Here we were, waiting to be dismissed once again after an interrupted event, only this time we sat in the back row of the empty auditorium.

  The door swung open and Jasper rushed in. “I need to go over to the hospital,” he said. “Can one of you drive me? We walked here, and the ambulance people wouldn’t let me ride with them.” It was the first time I’d ever seen him even slightly discombobulated.

  “I’ll take you,” said Francisco, surprising me. He stood up. “Do they know what’s going on?”

  “He passed out is all I know,” said Jasper, practically vibrating. You could tell he wanted to leave instantly.

  “He seemed incredibly drunk.” Calista said.

  “I know,” said Jasper. “When I left him before the reading, though, I hadn’t seen him take a drink all day.”

  “That doesn’t mean he wasn’t drinking all day,” muttered Francisco.

  “Shh,” whispered Calista.

  Francisco gave Calista a quick kiss and said goodbye to me, then followed Jasper out of the building.

  Maybe the two men would have a chance to bond. I hoped so. Francisco had been miserable for a long time because of the tension between them. I didn’t know how Jasper felt about it, but perhaps a peace treaty could be negotiated.

  “Should we try to go over there too?” Calista said, sounding not quite convinced about the idea.

  “I don’t think so. Maybe we could visit tomorrow morning, once we know what’s happening. They’ll probably give Damon an IV and let him sleep it off, if it’s too much alcohol.”

  “I hope he doesn’t have alcohol poisoning,” Calista said quietly. “One of my friends died from it at school.”

  “That’s horrible,” I said, my breath catching in my throat.

  “It was very sad. He was only nineteen,” she said, tearing up. “A fraternity initiation. You hear those stories all the time. Well, they’re true.”

  “I’m so sorry.” I couldn’t hug her, given the awkward positioning of our seats. I settled for patting her arm.

  “All I can do now is try to warn my students about that sort of thing.”

  “That’s good, Cal.”

  “I think most of them ignore me. You know how some students think they know everything?”

  “Some professors think that too,” I said.

  She made a sound which was half-laugh, half-sob—her eyes glistening in the dim light of the auditorium.

  The same Campus Security person we’d spoken to after the panel—Officer Stanley—trudged over to where we were sitting. His mustache was even more unruly than last time. “Do you need any additional assistance, ladies?”

  “No, we were just waiting to see if you needed anything from us,” I said.

  He returned my smile. “Thanks for waiting, but we’re going to lock up.”

  “Did you find anything strange? I know the accident earlier this week turned out to have a mysterious origin.”

  His lips tightened. Apparently he wasn’t going to share any information with a regular old civilian.

  “You can tell us,” I encouraged. “We’re on the Arts Week planning committee.” I was making it sound as though membership was akin to being on the Council of Overlords or something, but I hoped that an appeal to authority might coax information out of him.

  He considered this for a moment. “Nothing strange,” he said finally.

  I pulled one of my Stonedale business cards from my wallet and handed it to him. “If you think of anything, would you please call me?”

  Clearly humoring me, Officer Stanley tucked it carefully into his breast pocket and patted it. Then he pointed toward the door, inviting us to clear out.

  Outside, the cold air felt like a slap in the face. I shivered and was buttoning up my coat when my cell phone rang. After fumbling in my bag for a moment, I finally located it and checked the screen.

  “It’s my mother,” I said to Calista. “Can you wait one sec?”

  She nodded, pulling out her phone. “I’ll check in with Fran.”

  I clicked the accept button, and my mother’s voice poured out.

  “How did the reading go? It was tonight, right?”

  “It didn’t happen,” I said. “Damon passed out onstage.”

  “Passed out? Is he okay?” She sounded so upset that I wondered if she still had feelings for him.

  “I don’t know anything yet, but I’ll let you know as soon as I do.”

  “Where is he right now?” she persisted.

  “At the hospital. Mom, he was just really drunk. It’s probably not a big deal.”

  “He never drinks before a reading, Lila,” my mother reproached me. “It’s the one thing he is absolutely serious about.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe he was just really nervous about this one for some reason and broke his rule. He didn’t show up at the workshop yesterday either.”

  There was silence on the other end of the line. I could imagine my mother’s lovely face pondering the situation. She was probably twirling one of her red curls as she did so. I’d seen her do that a thousand times while surveying one of her art projects in process.

  “You know what? I’m coming out there. I’ll grab the next flight.”

  I gasped. “No, Mom, you don’t need to. Really.”

  “It sounds like Damon is in trouble. I may be able to help. I should have come out there anyway, to support you.”

  “My part in the events is already over, Mom. Honestly, you don’t have to—”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Lila,” she said. “Love you.” My phone beeped to indicate she’d hung up.

  I turned to Calista, who was checking something on her phone. She looked up with an inquisitive expression.

  “So Mom’s coming out to Stonedale,” I said.

  Her face lit up. “When? For what?”

  “Tomorrow. To help Damon, she said, but I don’t know how she can do that, exactly.”

  “Can’t wait to see Aunt Vi.”

  I wasn’t sure what my mother’s plans were, but clearly she was worried about Damon. She also loved to immerse herself in drama. Maybe she wanted him back. Now there was a dreadful thought. I hoped I’d be able to keep everything from turning into the Violet and Damon Reunited Tour.

  “Do you want to grab a coffee? I don’t feel like going home yet.” Calista looked at an exquisite gold watch on her slim wrist. “It’s just after eight.”

  “Sure,” I said. If anything, I
could use the warmth.

  “Let’s go to Scarlett’s,” she said.

  “Sounds perfect.” It was within a few blocks of both our homes. She texted Francisco and we started walking east. As we passed through the main gates of Stonedale, she patted the head of the stone gryphon.

  “What are you doing?”

  “It’s for good luck. Ooh, it’s freezing though.” She shoved her hand back into her coat pocket.

  “Wow, there are a lot of good luck rituals around here. Last fall, Nate made me plunge my hand into the fountain in the middle of campus for luck.”

  She laughed. “I think we all probably feel we can use as much luck as we can gather. You should pat the gryphon too.”

  “I’m not going to—”

  “Pat the gryphon, Lil,” she commanded sternly.

  I backed up and rested my hand on top of the statue. An icy sensation flowed up my arm, and my teeth began to chatter.

  “Oh my gosh, look at you,” said Calista. “Let’s run to Scarlett’s.”

  A few blocks later, we arrived at the recognizable awning outside of the café. Another patron walked out of the red wooden door and held it for us. We tramped inside, slightly breathless, and I felt immediately better to be among the chattering crowd seated at the small tables dotting the room. Scarlett’s red and gold decor was welcoming, as usual. The barista took our order: a decaf latte for me and a mocha for Calista.

  “Want to split a chocolate muffin?” Calista glanced at me. “We just went running, after all.”

  “Sure,” I said. “Though I don’t know if it counts as ‘running,’ technically.”

  “It’s as close as I get to it lately.”

  The cashier took our money and we moved to the end of the counter to wait for our drinks. Calista’s phone chirped and she looked down to read a text. I gazed at the framed vintage photos on the walls depicting various citizens of Stonedale at work.

  “That was Fran,” Calista said. “He’s going to join us. Before he gets here, tell me the truth: what do you think of him?”

  “He seems nice,” I said. “I was impressed with his paper at the panel. He’s a wonderful speaker.”

  “And quite fetching as well.” She blushed. “Those blue eyes...mmm.”

  “He is very attractive,” I agreed.

  “The blue comes from his father, he said, who is Italian. Did you know that?”

  “I did not,” I said. “But his last name was originally Franco, right? So that would make sense.”

  “Yes. Sorry. I know I sound like a teenager.”

  “It’s fine. As long as you’re happy. You are, right?”

  She sighed. “Deliriously.”

  “That’s great, Cal. You deserve it.”

  “Now we need to find someone for you—” she began, pausing when her message tone sounded.

  I sent up a small thanks to the powers that be for interrupting us at precisely that moment. As she picked up her phone, I caught sight of Gilles and Alonzo sitting in the back of the café. Their heads were close together and they were talking intently. Calista was texting again, so I told her I’d be back in a minute and headed toward the scholars.

  When I got close to the table, Gilles saw me and smoothly straightened up.

  “Lila. What a surprise. Join us?” It seemed unnecessarily loud—in fact, several people at neighboring tables looked up, startled. Was he trying to warn his companion of my presence?

  “Thanks, but I’m here with my cousin,” I said. “Just wanted to say hello. How are you guys doing?”

  Their eyes met, as if they were agreeing on something.

  “We’re fine, but we’re worried about Damon,” Alonzo said, blinking rapidly. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in concert.

  “Any news?” Gilles stared at me while adjusting his glasses for the millionth time since I met him. I didn’t know if it was a fit issue or a tic.

  “Nothing yet. Hey, did you guys see anything weird at the reading?”

  “Like what?” Alonzo asked, taking a sip of coffee.

  “I don’t know. Anything seem odd about Damon when he first came out on stage?”

  “You mean aside from him being too drunk to stand up?” Alonzo said glumly.

  “We don’t know what happened to him,” Gilles replied quickly. “He might have had a medical issue.”

  “Or he might have been sloshed,” Alonzo insisted.

  That was the most likely answer, but I pressed on anyway. “How about otherwise? Any people acting strange in the audience? Or someone you didn’t think should be in the wings?”

  They looked at each other again, as if reaching another silent agreement, then shook their heads.

  What were they not saying? I thought back too, trying to slow the memory down, but came up empty.

  “Lila? Hello?”

  Gilles was waving a white paper napkin at me.

  “Sorry,” I said. “What did you say?”

  “Have you seen Jasper or Francisco around?” Gilles asked.

  “No,” I said.

  An uncomfortable silence descended, during which Gilles folded and refolded his napkin into precise, ever-smaller squares.

  “Well, have a good night,” Alonzo said finally, which I took as my cue to leave.

  Back in the waiting zone with Calista, I glanced over at the men. They had leaned toward each other again and were speaking rapidly—this time with additional gesticulations. I didn’t know what had them all fired up, but they certainly didn’t want to share it with me. I couldn’t imagine what in our brief conversation had fueled the fire.

  Our drinks arrived, and we carried them over to a table that had just opened up near the window. I slid into the booth facing the side wall so Calista could keep an eye out for Francisco coming through the front door. Once we were settled in, we both wrapped our hands around the large mugs.

  “Ah,” said Calista happily. “I don’t even have to drink it to be happy. Just the warmth and the smell are heavenly.”

  “It’s nice to be in a place where things seem so normal after the past few days.”

  “I meant to ask if you were feeling better about the reading.” Her gray eyes studied me with concern.

  “Well, I have to admit, it was pretty awful to see Damon slide down the lectern like that.”

  “You were front and center, weren’t you?”

  “Yes. Where were you?”

  “I was on the left near the front. Francisco had to go onstage, so we sat on the side. I thought it was odd when he didn’t come back to sit with me after introducing Damon. He must have sensed that something was wrong.” She tilted her head slightly and regarded the steam coming off of her mocha.

  “I think you’re right. From where I was sitting, I could see him edge out of the wings, like he was anxious about Damon being onstage alone.”

  I blew on my latte and took a sip. It was the perfect temperature.

  “Hey, did you happen to see that Alonzo and Gilles are here?” I asked, pointing to the back as unobtrusively as I could.

  She twisted around, then leaned out of the booth almost horizontally to get a better vantage point.

  “Calista, could you please be more casual about it?” I begged her.

  She hoisted herself back upright and rolled her eyes. “How am I supposed to see them if I can’t look?”

  “You can look but maybe don’t fall out of the booth while you’re doing it?”

  “I give up,” she said. “I take your word for it that they’re here. Why?”

  “Well, they were acting peculiar,” I said.

  “How?”

  “They were whispering up a storm, but when I got over there, they stopped. Like they didn’t want me to hear them.”

  “So maybe they didn’t want you to hear them,” she said, sh
rugging.

  “It seemed like more than that,” I protested.

  “Maybe they were gossiping,” she said.

  “It seemed like more than that too.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know. Just seemed suspicious.”

  She grinned. “Lila Maclean, Girl Detective.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Well, ever since last semester, you’ve had your clue antennae up. Everything seems suspicious to you these days.”

  “Because things keep on happening.”

  She reached out and touched my hand, a contrite expression on her face. “You’re right. And I was just kidding, Lil. I do appreciate your new mindset. Skill set. Whatever it is.”

  Truth was I didn’t know why I was distrustful of Gilles and Alonzo. I had exactly zero evidence the professors were involved in any of this, other than all that frenzied whispering.

  “Hey all,” Francisco greeted us. I hadn’t even heard him approach us, with all the background noise: the grinder ran every two minutes, and the bells on the back of the door jingled almost as often. Normally, it didn’t seem quite as loud as it did tonight. Maybe I was just jumpy.

  He scooted in next to Calista and kissed her cheek as he peeled off his coat. Now that their relationship was public knowledge, they greeted each other that way as often as possible. It was adorable, I had to admit. Even if it made me feel like a third wheel. But I was happy for them.

  To give them some privacy, I looked out the window at the sidewalk glistening in the light of the streetlamp. Small hearts painted along the bottom half of the glass drew my attention, reminding me that Valentine’s Day was fast approaching.

  At least we hadn’t run into Nate and Amanda tonight.

  Chapter 15

  “Lila Maclean,” said a deep voice beside me. I looked up to see Detective Lexington Archer of the Stonedale PD smiling down at me. However, instead of his usual suit, he was wearing a gray flannel shirt and jeans. The blue tee underneath pulled tight across his sizeable muscles and matched his eyes nicely.