Textbook Murder

by Laina Turner

  “Yeah, you’re kind of well known,” she said, seeing no reason to deny she knew who he was. She did her part of playing along, matching his tone like this was no big deal.

  “That’s why I asked you if you were a reporter. As you might imagine, I get quite a few coming around. Pretty much the only people coming around here these days.” He gave a forced laugh, but it came across sad.

  “I can imagine. I assure you, I’m not a reporter.” Chloe almost felt she should tell him she was a lawyer and, probably more importantly, working at the school as replacement for his now-deceased defense counsel. But she was afraid if she did, he would no longer want to talk to her, and she wanted information. Better she just keep quiet for now. See how things progressed.

  But then he said, “The only thing worse than a reporter right now might be an attorney. They’ve been coming out of the woodwork since yesterday, when mine was murdered. You might have heard about that on the news too.”

  “Yup,” Chloe squeaked out, quashing any thought of telling him she was lawyer, whether it seemed underhanded or not. If she told him now, he for sure would tell her to get lost. She would have to pick the right moment. She was curious as to why he was standing here telling a complete stranger all this. If she were in his shoes, she would be hiding in her house, not talking to anyone.

  “I’m sorry I’m rambling,” he said, seeming to be reading her mind. “I’ve been cooped up, you know, trying to stay out of sight so reporters can’t hound me, and I’m going stir crazy. I came out for some fresh air, saw you, and guess I pounced on the chance to have a live person to talk to about something else besides my upcoming trial. Lucky you!” he said sheepishly.

  Chloe laughed at the look on his face. He had the expression of a chastised schoolboy. He seemed to be genuinely concerned he might be coming across as annoying. In spite of herself, she kind of found him likable.

  “If it’s not too much of an imposition, would you like to take a walk around the block with me? I can give you the history tour on some of these amazing old buildings and get my need to chatter out of the way.”

  Chloe paused thoughtfully. She wanted the chance to talk to him more, but felt sort of bad spending time with him under false pretenses.

  “Don’t feel bad saying no,” he jumped in. “I understand if you don’t want to. I’d probably say no in your shoes too. I’m not the best person to be seen with these days.”

  “You know, I don’t have anything pressing to get to, so why not?” she said, feeling sorry for him.

  His big smile made her glad she decided to say yes, and even made her feel a little guilty that the reason she said yes was to try to find out anything more about his relationship with Bill. What better way to get information than directly from the source? And maybe after they talked for a short time, she would find a way to tell him the truth about who she was.

  After only a few minutes into their walk, she forgot the real reason she was here because she was impressed at his level of knowledge of the history and houses in the area.

  “You’re quite the historian. You seem very passionate about this topic.”

  “I am. I studied architectural history in college, until my parents told me they’d stop paying for school unless I chose a career that would make me money.”

  “They did have a point,” Chloe said.

  “True, except I probably wouldn’t be in this mess then,” he said ruefully. She didn’t know what to say to that, so she didn’t say anything.

  They walked and talked, making their way around the block until they came full circle in front of Bill Peterson’s house, which was next to Roger’s.

  “Well, here we are back to where we started,” Roger said, putting his hands in his pockets. “Hope you enjoyed the tour.”

  “It was amazing. Really,” she said, and meant it. “What about this house?” Chloe asked, looking at Bill’s house and hoping it might spike some conversation.

  “That one? Well . . .” he said, with a strange look on his face, making Chloe wonder if it was the house he didn’t like or the owner.

  “Something wrong with the house?” she prodded.

  “Nah, it’s a gorgeous house, over a hundred years old, and the owner spared no expense restoring it to its original glory.” He paused, and Chloe stayed silent, hoping he would start talking again, which he did a few minutes later.

  “The man who owned it was my lawyer.”

  “Were you guys friends?”

  Roger looked at her quizzically. “Why?” His tone took on a slightly hard edge, and his body tensed slightly. Suddenly, he was looking at her differently than he had a minute ago.

  “No reason, I was just curious. I guess I was being nosy. Sorry,” she said, trying to blow off his concern, and then, hopefully, put him back at ease.

  “No, I’m the one who should be sorry,” he said, exhaling loudly as his body relaxed a little. “I’m just on edge. Here I’ve been talking away; it’s definitely your turn to ask a few questions.”

  “You don’t have to answer me if you don’t like the question,” she teased.

  “No, it’s fine. Bill and I became friends when we became neighbors a few years ago, and when I first got in trouble, he offered to represent me. It was an offer I couldn’t refuse. He’s brilliant, and more importantly, he believed in my innocence. So his death affects me in many ways. Which I know sounds horrible. I should be thinking of his family, not my own issues.”

  “It doesn’t make you horrible. It’s understandable to feel that way with your situation. And it’s not like you don’t care about his family at all. Trust me, I watched an episode of Bridezilla once—don’t judge,” she interjected when she saw the look of confusion on his face. “The bride was mad that one of her bridesmaids had a death in the family and the funeral was the same day as the wedding, so the bridesmaid had to back out last minute. How’s that for selfish and uncaring?”

  Randall laughed. “Yes, compared to that I’m golden.”

  Chloe looked at her watch. “I hate to run, but I’ve got an afternoon appointment I need to get to.”

  “I appreciate your walking with me and listening to me gab.”

  “I enjoyed it. The amount you know about the architecture is amazing. Maybe when your situation changes you could change careers.”

  “If I’m not in jail, you mean,” he said dryly.

  Chloe didn’t know what to say to that, so she just held out her hand to shake his. “Nice to meet you, Randall.”

  “Likewise.”

  Chloe let go and turned to walk back to her car.

  “Hey, Chloe!” Randall called out, and she turned back around.

  “Could I get your number, maybe call you sometime?”

  Chloe hesitated, and Randall took notice.

  “I understand if you say no. I wouldn’t want to get involved with me either.”

  That wasn’t why Chloe hesitated. She actually found herself liking him. She still felt guilty for not telling him she was a lawyer, and the lawyer who took his old lawyer’s place at the law school no less. At this point, it would really look as if she had been purposely hiding something if she told him now. But giving him her cell phone number couldn’t hurt. And if she talked to him again, it might give her the right opportunity to come clean.

  “Oh no, you just caught me by surprise, that’s all. My number is 603-555-3567.”

  He quickly put her contact info in his phone.

  “Until later, then,” he said.

  Chloe smiled and waved. She turned back to her car, thinking if he did actually call her, she was going to have to tell him the truth about who she was before he found out on his own.

  Chapter 7

  Chloe didn't really have an appointment to go to. But as much as she enjoyed talking to Randall, she also didn’t want to dig herself in too big of a hole before figuring out how to tell him about being Bill’s replacement. She didn’t feel right lying about who she was, even under the circumstances.


  Chloe wasn’t in a rush to get anywhere and thought it would be fun to ride the trolley car downtown and try to familiarize herself with the lay of the land. As corny as it might sound, she loved trolleys and trains. Probably her brother’s influence growing up. As she waited on one of the many corners where the trolley made a stop, she replayed the recent events in her mind. It seemed so surreal that, in the span of just a few days, she had moved, started a new job, been involved—even if only on the periphery—with a murder, and had a great conversation about historical homes with an accused embezzler. Life was definitely stranger than fiction.

  The trolley pulled up, and she jumped in, taking in the beauty of the old car. It looked very much like it belonged to a time when it would have been the main mode of transportation. The car was about half full, so she had her choice of seats and decided on one in the middle next to the window, so she could look out. She became absorbed in the area around her and forgot about her earlier musings, until a few minutes later, when she was distracted from her sightseeing by talking, or rather, mumbling, behind her. She hated to admit it, but she did often eavesdrop on people. It was so interesting to listen to half conversations and then make assumptions about the rest. The lady behind her was mumbling at a rapid rate, and it sounded like she was having a fun conversation with herself.

  Chloe turned just enough in her seat to observe the woman behind her, but not enough to be obvious she was trying to see her. The lady looked much like a stereotypical bag lady. Ratty sweater over a grungy-looking T-shirt and a knit hat with a big hole on the side. The woman—Chloe guessed her to be fiftyish—was clutching a moderately full garbage bag on her lap. And Chloe confirmed she was the only one in that seat, which meant she was definitely talking to herself. But as Chloe frequently thought, conversation with yourself is often the best conversation you could get. In the case of this lady, it seemed lively and something to do with movies. Chloe shifted back in her seat. To each his own, she thought. Though it bothered her that in a place like the US there were still people such as the lady behind her, who at least appeared to not have what most would consider a normal life. But then, what was normal anyway? Chloe also knew better than to judge. Looks were often deceiving. The lady could be a billionaire in disguise and just be doing this because it was fun for her to fool people.

  Turning her attention back out the window, she saw the Spencer Slugger Museum and the baseball field. She made a mental note to go back and visit the museum when she had more time. Not that she was a baseball fan; she really wasn’t into sports at all, but she enjoyed history, and it looked interesting. She also had a bourbon tour and checking out Churchill Downs on her list of things to do while she was here. Derby season was past, but attending an Ohio Derby this coming spring, complete with a big hat and all, was also on her bucket list.

  She rode the trolley a couple more times around its loop, just enjoying the view, and then thought she should probably head back home. She did actually have work to do. When she got off, the lady behind her was still talking to herself and gave Chloe a wide smile when she looked over. Chloe smiled back and waved. What a character, she thought.

  Her phone rang again. “Hello?”

  “This is Detective Rodriguez. Is this Chloe?” the voice on the line said.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “I wanted to give you some confidential information. I was hoping you would be my eyes and ears at the university.”

  “Sure.”

  “Well, the findings show Bill was definitely murdered. Because of the case Bill was working on, the medical examiner rushed it. Not that there was much doubt.”

  True. Chloe had been able to see the bullet wound in Bill’s head even from where she had stood at the doorway. Since there hadn’t been a gun next to him, the likelihood of it being a suicide had been slim, at least in her opinion.

  “Small-caliber gun, close range, so likely someone he knew, or was at least somewhat familiar with to have let him in his office and not feel threatened.”

  “This plays out like a mystery novel,” Chloe said. “High-profile case in the news, lawyer gets close to the truth, gets killed for his trouble.”

  The detective laughed. “As you probably know, Chloe, most criminals aren’t all that creative, and it usually does play out that way.”

  “I know you probably can’t tell me, but, any suspects?”

  “What I can tell you is that we are looking at people who had a beef with Randall. And that’s a pretty long list. No one is a huge stand out yet. From all accounts, Bill wasn’t the most pleasant person to deal with, but he didn’t have any real enemies. Not at this level.”

  Chloe chatted with the detective for a few more minutes about the break-in to her car. He agreed that it was probably unrelated to Bill’s murder.

  They got off the phone, and Chloe couldn’t help but think about how she liked talking to the detective. A thought she quickly dismissed. She did not need any emotional entanglements.

  Chapter 8

  Chloe was sitting in her office, reading the short personal essays from the students in her first class that just ended. She always assigned the same in-class assignment on the first day for each class she had ever taught. Not only did it give her a little insight as to personalities and interests of her students, but it also gave her a chance to assess their writing style and structure without relying on the computer and, more importantly, spelling and grammar check. That was a tool everyone relied on too heavily these days, in her opinion, so she was happy to bypass it occasionally.

  The phone on her desk rang, only for the second time since she had been assigned an office, and startled her. She didn’t recognize the number, but then, that wasn’t a surprise. Anyone who knew her would just call her cell. This had to be a student or someone from the school.

  “Hello, this is Chloe Parsons.”

  “I can’t believe you!” a man growled into the phone.

  “Excuse me. Who is this?” Chloe said calmly, slipping into lawyer mode.

  “You mean you spend time talking to me and lie about who you are, and you don’t even recognize my voice?” the person snapped.

  “Randall?”

  “Yes, it’s Randall! Stupid of me to think I met a decent person,” he said a little less loudly, but still upset. By the way he was acting, and considering he’d just called her at the university, she knew he must have found out she was a lawyer.

  “Randall, I can understand you’re upset. I would be too. But please know I didn’t mean to not tell you I was a lawyer. I’m sorry I wasn’t completely forthright with who I was. I honestly didn’t think it would be a big deal, but then you made a crack about lawyers, and I was actually enjoying our conversation. I didn’t want you to think I had an ulterior motive.”

  “I’m willing to cut you some slack here because you seem like a decent person, but you mean to tell me you came by my house by accident?” he asked skeptically.

  “Yes and no. I didn’t come by your house looking for you, exactly. I wanted to see where Bill lived. Then I saw you and we got to talking. I didn’t mean to mislead you. It just kind of happened.”

  He paused for a few moments. “Okay, I guess I’ll forgive you. You will just have to make it up to me.” She could almost hear him smiling through the phone, his anger slipping away, for which she felt grateful. He really did seem like a nice guy.

  “Oh, really?”

  “Meet me for coffee. I did enjoy our chat and wouldn’t mind doing it again.”

  “Even though I’m a lawyer?” she teased.

  “Well, I am hard up for company these days.”

  Chloe laughed. “In that case . . . I have some free time after my next class. Want to meet around three p.m.? I’ll need some pick-me-up coffee by then.”

  “My schedule is wide open these days, so three is perfect.” He then proceeded to give her directions to an independently owned coffee shop a few blocks away from the university. Guaranteed to be the best latte she’d ever had,
he said. When she hung up the phone, she briefly debated the wisdom of meeting with someone who was facing a criminal trial. She didn’t know how Dean Ziegler would feel about it, especially in light of what happened to Bill.

  Detective Rodriguez either, for that matter, since Randall’s old lawyer had been killed at her current workplace. As a lawyer, these things ran through her head, but as a person, she was curious to get to know Randall a little better and judge for herself. Besides, she wanted to know how he found out she worked at the Spencer Law School.

  Chapter 9

  Chloe pulled into a parking spot on the street that, to her luck, had just been vacated by a white Escalade. Randall’s directions had been easy to follow, and the coffee shop he had recommended looked cute and quaint, at least from the outside.

  She walked in and saw Randall sitting in the corner with his back to the door. Presumably to stay a little less noticeable. She could tell it was him because she was looking for him, but if she hadn’t been, she doubted she would have looked at him twice. Even though his face was all over the news these days. She ordered a large vanilla latte and took it to the table where he was sitting, sliding into the seat across from him.

  “Well, hello there,” he said, looking up from the book he had been reading.

  “Good book?”

  “I love John Grisham. I reread everything of his about once a year. It never gets old. Plus, I try to stay away from newspapers and magazines these days. And the Internet, for that matter.”

  “Not a fan of reading about yourself?” she teased.

  “Not hardly. Even if people had flattering things to say, I think I would feel uncomfortable. I don’t enjoy being in the spotlight.”

  “Yeah, me too. That’s why I decided to never become a famous actress,” Chloe said, laughing, and Randall smiled.

  “I hate to bring up a sore subject, but how did you find out who I was?”

  “I Googled you.” Randall had the graciousness to look sheepish.