by Laina Turner
“No worries. I already called and asked. He’s spending the summer in Rome with his wife, so I don’t think he cares much about anything back here. Here are the keys,” she said, holding out a ring with two keys dangling from it.
“One is for the door and one for the desk. He said feel free to treat the office as your own. He’s a really nice guy, and much more laid-back than some, if you know what I mean.”
“I do,” Chloe said, smiling and taking the keys.
“Want to grab lunch this afternoon? I could show you around the rest of the campus. I know Dean Ziegler was planning on doing that, but with everything going on right now, he won’t be in today. I thought you might want to get your bearings before classes start tomorrow.”
“Sure. What time?” Chloe answered. She did want to explore the campus, and it would give her a chance to ask Mallory about her visit to the detective in a more casual setting.
“Let’s do noon. There’s a small Italian place just off campus that has great antipasto salads, if that sounds good to you.”
“It does.”
“Great. I’ll come pick you up at your office later.”
Chloe walked the few short steps to the office of Richard Sanborn. Pausing a moment before putting the key in the lock, she felt that trepidation again, though she knew the likelihood of finding another dead body was pretty much nonexistent. She took a deep breath and turned the key. The door swung open to a perfectly normal room. She felt a moment of relief when all she saw were the usual things that should be in the office. No dead bodies. Score for the second day on the job.
She set her stuff down on a small conference table in the corner and looked at the books that filled the two bookcases. They were the typical law reference books you would expect to find, though these days it was more for show, since the Internet housed the same information and was much easier to access than looking through dusty books. There was a large part of her that did love the old-fashioned research method of thumbing through pages. That was probably her favorite part of law school. The research. Something all her fellow students used to make fun of her for. Everyone else found it boring and tedious.
She reached into her briefcase to pull out the books for this class and the binder where she had all her papers organized with the syllabus and notes. She took them to the desk, sat down, and got to work refreshing herself with the materials.
There was a knock, and Chloe looked up to see Mallory standing there. A quick glance at her watch showed it was noon already. Time had flown by. Chloe rolled her neck from side to side to work out the kinks from being hunched over and stood up to grab her purse from the table.
“Do you mind a short walk?” Mallory asked. “It’s nice outside, and the restaurant is just a few minutes away.”
“Not at all. I could use the exercise, and you’re right, it’s a beautiful day.”
Chloe and Mallory walked out of the building and into the sunshine. Chloe pulled her sunglasses out of her purse, put them on, and walked in stride with Mallory as she followed the sidewalk to the left.
“It’s just up here a ways. The place we’re going to is called Mario’s. It’s a family-owned place that’s been in business over forty years. They actually used to be on campus. About ten years ago they were badly in need of an expansion, and there just wasn’t room on campus, so they found the closest thing they could. The food is great, and the people who work there know everything going on. It’s gossip central. Sometimes that’s good, sometimes not. As you can imagine, a lot of rumors get spread.”
“There was a place like that where I went to law school, only it was Greek, not Italian. Everyone hung out there on a regular basis. Brings back a lot of memories.” Chloe smiled fondly.
Within a few minutes, they were seated at an outdoor table so they could take advantage of the sunshine. They placed their order, and the waitress quickly brought their drinks: iced tea for Mallory, sparkling water for Chloe. She was really trying to cut down on caffeine and had made it three whole days without her beloved Diet Coke.
“How was your meeting with the handsome detective?” Mallory asked.
“How was yours?” Chloe countered playfully.
“He’s such a hunk. I just couldn’t help myself wanting to find an excuse to see him again,” Mallory said, and didn’t seem at all embarrassed. “But it was you he wanted, not me,” she added playfully.
Chloe laughed. “I don’t think he wants me for anything more than information I could give him.”
Mallory took a drink. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. I saw the way he looked at you. He’s interested.”
Chloe shook her head. “Even if he was, and I think you’re mistaken, that’s the last thing I need right now.”
“Why? Men are always fun to have around.”
“I’m just at the point in my life I want to focus on my career.” Even as she said it, it felt false. Like most other females, she wanted a great guy to settle down with, but she didn’t need the stress of dating. Men and relationships seemed like nothing but trouble. At least for her.
“I’m not saying get married or anything; just have fun. A girl’s got to have her fun,” Mallory said with a sly smile.
Chloe was saved from having to reply by the arrival of their food. They ate in silence for a few minutes.
“This food is great,” Chloe said. “It reminds me of this place in Chicago called Lou Malnatis. Great ingredients.”
“I know,” Mallory said around a mouthful of food. “That’s why I work out every day. So I can eat this food. I’m a sucker for their breadsticks,” she said, grabbing her third. “I could live on bread alone.”
After they had cleaned their plates, Chloe leaned back in her seat. “I’m stuffed. Good thing we need to walk back.”
“We can take our time. It stays fairly quiet around here this time of year. It’s actually kind of nice. Summer term is my favorite. A lot less busy.”
“So what was your opinion of Bill?” Chloe asked, thinking Mallory might have an inside scoop and be willing to share.
Mallory shrugged. “He was a stereotypical male lawyer in his fifties. Gruff. No nonsense. Super smart. Not a lot of personality. At least, not that he showed at school. He wasn’t involved like a lot of faculty are. Didn’t participate in activities. Even when it was mandatory. But he was such a good professor it got overlooked. And he had no sense of humor, but then, what lawyer does?”
A few moments of silence went by before Mallory spoke up again. “I hope that wasn’t offensive,” she said, looking a little worried that maybe she had said too much.
“Not at all. You’re right. Us lawyers don’t always have a great sense of humor, if we have any sense of humor at all. We tend to be a cynical group.”
“The students loved him, though. We had a lot of students upset when they found out he was taking a sabbatical. They had been looking forward to his class. He had a lot of good war stories, and really engaged his students. He was known as tough but fair.”
“Why was he taking this leave? Was it just because the case was so high profile?”
“He told us he wanted to focus all his energies on the case.”
“That makes sense, then,” Chloe said, a little disappointed. She had hoped Mallory knew a little more.
“Yeah, I think Bill even had some stock in the company. I overheard him on the phone one day talking to someone about needing to sell those shares to avoid a conflict of interest if he wanted to be able to represent Randall.”
“He must have felt Randall was innocent?” Chloe said.
“Maybe. He didn’t talk to me much, so I didn’t know a lot about him personally. You could talk to Kate Shiply. She was the only one who even came close to being what I would call a work friend. At least, they spent time together outside of work.”
Chloe looked at her watch. “Oh, crap. I have a student coming to see me in twenty minutes. We need to head back.”
As they stood up, Mallory said, “Let me
guess who the student is: Roger Moorehouse.”
Chloe looked up, surprised. “How did you know?”
“He’s a nice kid, but quite the worrywart. He’s been driving me crazy with his questions, and was probably the most upset student I saw yesterday. He had an appointment with Bill, and when he showed up and found out what had happened, he was distraught. Much more than I would have thought, actually.”
“He does seem determined. He left me three messages this morning before I even got in.” Not that she minded. She liked eager students.
The quick walk back made Chloe feel less like napping, and she felt ready to tackle the afternoon. She arrived back into the building to see a student sitting outside her door. She assumed it was Roger. He scrambled to stand up as soon as he saw her. Wiping his hands on his jeans, he then stuck one out to shake hers.
“Hi, Professor Parsons. I’m Roger Moorehouse. Sorry to be camping out on your doorstep. I just got here a little early and thought I would wait and get some reading done.”
Roger looked to be a little older than your average law student. Early thirties, though that was often nice because the students with a few years’ work experience under their belt often had a better frame of reference than those who had come fresh from undergrad. His light brown hair showed off green eyes with the prettiest eyelashes. She would kill for those eyelashes—any woman would. It seemed a shame for them to be wasted on a guy. So not fair. Dressed in the typical law student uniform of jeans and a faded tee, he had what appeared to be a full backpack plus an armful of books. Had he not heard of an e-reader? All the books were available in electronic format. Or maybe he was like her and preferred printed books. It was just a lot to carry around.
“That’s fine,” Chloe said, unlocking her door. She walked in and set her purse down. “Go ahead and have a seat.” She motioned to the chairs in front of her desk, and then walked behind the desk and sat down. She couldn’t help still feeling vaguely uncomfortable in someone else’s space.
“What can I help you with, Roger?”
“I’m sure you’re busy getting acclimated, and I’m sorry to take up your time—welcome, by the way—but I wanted to meet with you before class starts to see if there were any readings or cases I should read first or pay closer attention to? I mean, I have the syllabus, and I’ve done the readings for the first class. Actually, I’ve done all the reading,” he said sheepishly, “but as I go back over the materials, I just want to know what I should focus on the most. I don’t want to miss anything.”
Chloe paused thoughtfully. He seemed like quite the overachiever. Not unusual for a law student—you didn’t usually get to this point if you were a slacker—but this did seem a little extreme.
“You’re probably thinking my life must be really boring if I’m this over the top with my schoolwork,” he said with nervous laughter, pretty accurately assessing her thoughts.
“No, I—”
“Well, it is,” he interrupted. “Study, study, study. That’s all I do. Besides work.”
Chloe just sat there, watching and listening. She wondered if he was always this full of nervous energy. She waited for him to stop talking again. He finally ran out of steam and paused.
“As far as this class is concerned, knowing the material is the most important, so you’re already on the right track, and probably much farther ahead than your peers,” Chloe said, smiling.
“Okay.” He nodded. “I just wanted to make sure.”
“That’s fine. I’m here to help anytime.”
Roger left, and Chloe continued working on her class prep. She had only been working for a moment or two when Mallory stuck her head in to tell her that Dean Ziegler wanted to see her.
“You wanted to see me, Dean?” Chloe said, after knocking softly on the doorframe of his office a few minutes later.
“Yes, Chloe. Please have a seat.” He gestured to the chairs in front of his desk, and she chose one and sat down.
“We’ve had a bit of excitement here lately,” he said, leaning back in his chair, tapping his fingertips together.
That would be an understatement, she thought. And an interesting way to put it. “Yes, we have.”
“I just want to make sure you’re okay, and not regretting your decision to come here.”
“Not at all. I know this is totally out of the norm for the university. I’m fine, really I am. But I appreciate you asking.”
“Okay, then. Anything I can do for you, just let me know.”
“I will. Is that all?” Chloe stood to leave.
“That’s all.”
“Thanks, Dean.” Chloe walked back to the office just in time to hear her office phone ring. She ran the last few steps and grabbed the receiver.
“Hello?” After a couple seconds went by and she heard no response, she said hello again. Finally, after a few more seconds of silence, she hung up. She looked at the caller display, and it came up blocked. That’s weird, she thought, but maybe the caller was expecting Richard Sandborn to answer and got confused and hung up? She quickly put the call out of her mind and reached for some reading to catch up on.
She got absorbed in the law journal she was reading and was surprised when she looked at her watch and found almost two hours had gone by. She leaned back in her chair and stretched. Surprisingly, she was hungry again, so she decided she would pack her things and leave, pick up some food on the way home, and finish her reading there. There was a tiny balcony off her living room, and it would be nice to sit outside and eat while she continued reading.
She put everything she wanted to take with her in her large Coach tote, grabbed her purse, and walked out, closing the door behind her.
She walked out to the parking lot, and when she got close to her car, she slowed down, and then stopped a few feet from it and just stared.
Her driver’s side window was broken. Someone had broken into her car.
“Something wrong, Chloe?” Mallory asked, causing Chloe to jump. She hadn’t heard her come up behind her because she was so intently focused on the broken window.
“Oh my God, Chloe. What happened to your window?” she said before Chloe responded.
“I don’t know, but I didn’t have anything of value in my car, so I can’t imagine what they were after.” She pulled out her phone and Detective Rodriguez’s card.
“Hang out with me, and maybe you’ll get to see the fine detective again,” Chloe joked to Mallory.
“Count me in!” Mallory agreed, and Chloe was just happy to have someone to wait with her, regardless of why. She was a little on edge now.
They waited about a half hour until the police showed up. Much to Mallory’s disappointment, the detective had sent someone else. He was tied up with another case, the officers explained.
Since nothing was taken and no one had seen anything, the police couldn’t do much besides write it up so she could turn it in to her insurance.
Chloe couldn’t help but wonder if it was at all related to Bill’s murder. The police didn’t think so, saying it was probably kids, but Chloe still wondered. Had that hang up call been on purpose, to see if she was still in the office? If so, what did someone think she had that was in her car? What could they possibly think would be worth breaking her window for?
Chapter 6
Chloe got the address for Bill Peterson’s house from Mallory, who didn’t ask her why she wanted it, nor did Chloe offer up her reason. Chloe could only imagine what Mallory was thinking. Probably assumed she was really morbid and wanted to drive by the dead guy’s house.
According to Mallory, Bill lived in the historical district of Spencer. All cities had their areas of beautiful old homes, and Spencer was no different. It was clear she had reached the right area when row housing gave way to large brick homes with wrought iron fences and street parking, making for very narrow lanes. Typical old downtown streets. More suited for horse and buggy than the big SUVs people drove now.
When Mallory gave her the directions, she s
aid she couldn’t miss it. That as she headed west on King Street, she would easily spot a three-story redbrick building on her left. Chloe went another block, and it jumped out at her, but in a beautiful way. Wow. Bill must have spent a fortune remodeling this place. Clearly, he had done well for himself. She spotted an empty parking space a few feet ahead and pulled in, doing a passable job at parallel parking. She was just lucky the street wasn’t very busy. She would have never tried anything of the sort on a busy Chicago street.
She shut the engine off and stepped out of her car, thinking she would walk down the sidewalk and casually check the place out. Pocketing her keys, she jogged across the street and got to the sidewalk. Nearing the red brick structure, she wondered which house was Randall Whittier’s, the one on the right or the one on the left.
Lost in thought, she jumped when a voice behind her said, “Are you looking for a particular house?”
Chloe spun around to find herself face-to-face with none other than Randall Whittier, whose media coverage didn’t do him justice in the looks department. She was at a momentary loss for words, shocked to find him strolling about.
“Cat got your tongue?” he asked playfully.
She quickly found her voice and answered, “I’m just looking at these beautiful old houses. They’re gorgeous.”
“Are you a reporter?”
“No. I’m just new to the area. Originally from Chicago. Chloe. Chloe Parsons.”
“Nice to meet you, Chloe. I’m Randall Whittier. Accused embezzler. You might recognize me from the news,” he said in a manner that made her feel this was his way of trying to be on the offensive. His attitude surprised her. He was not at all what she would have expected. She expected him to be a pompous, self-absorbed, arrogant person. The guy standing in front of her actually seemed, well, nice and normal. On TV, his dark Italian features seemed more sinister; in person, he just had brown hair, olive skin tone, and deep-set chocolate-brown eyes that looked warm and friendly. He seemed like a regular guy.