Textbook Murder

by Laina Turner

  “Really?” Chloe was amazed, although she shouldn’t be, at the power of the Internet.

  “Yes. I have a lot of free time on my hands. What can I say? There was a small announcement about you replacing Bill in the school newspaper.”

  Chloe shook her head. “Ah, okay. That makes sense.”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure,” Randall replied.

  “Are you doing okay with everything going on? Wait. That’s a stupid question.”

  “No. It’s okay.”

  “I just know, from what I’ve read anyway, that the company was your baby. And now . . .” She trailed off.

  “And now I’ve lost everything?” he said, raising his eyebrows.

  “Well, yeah.”

  GlobE had been founded by Randall and a guy named Marshall Cooper. Chloe couldn’t imagine losing something you had put so much sweat equity into. Nor putting it at risk with illegal activity. Though if Randall was actually guilty, it probably didn’t matter to him. She just realized she was totally assuming he was innocent and hadn’t even asked if he was guilty. Not that it was an easy question to ask; plus, there was no guarantee he’d tell the truth.

  “You know, at first, yes, but honestly, in some ways, it’s almost a relief.” Randall saw the confused look on Chloe’s face and began to explain.

  “GlobE stopped being fun for me a couple of years ago. So political, and I was tired of always fighting with someone over something.”

  “Why didn’t you quit? I realize it’s not as easy as it sounds, but did you think about it?”

  “Every day, but as unhappy as I was staying there, I was just as unhappy about the thought of what might happen if I left. Marshall and I had been at odds a lot with the direction the company was going, and I was afraid to walk away. I didn’t want to see something I’d helped build go in a direction I was uncomfortable with.”

  “I thought I read somewhere that you and Marshall were best friends?”

  “We were, but something changed him. We’d started this company with a somewhat idealistic view of how we could make alternative fuel sources more affordable. While it’s not as easy as it seems, there are a lot of folks out there who don’t want the price of oil to go down. I still believed in what we were doing, but Marshall started caring more about money than how our products could help the world.”

  “Did he stand to gain anything with you out of the way?” Chloe couldn’t stop herself from asking. Randall had been claiming he was framed.

  Randall looked shocked. “No!” he immediately replied. “Marshall and I may have had our issues, but he wouldn’t have done anything to hurt me.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you; it was just a thought. Is there someone else who would have gone to these lengths to get you out of the picture?”

  “There are a lot of people who weren’t all that happy with me, but even so, I can’t imagine anyone going to this extreme. I realize that’s probably a naïve view of things.”

  “Maybe.”

  “So how are classes?” he asked in an obvious attempt to change the subject.

  “Good so far. I love teaching. It’s so much more fun than actually practicing law.”

  “That seems an odd thing to say for someone who spent years in law school.”

  “I enjoyed school and am glad for the knowledge. I’m just not cut out for the stressful courtroom stuff, and corporate estate type law is boring. But the legal aspect in general I love.”

  “I can see that. I’m sure being a lawyer isn’t like an episode of Law & Order.”

  Chloe laughed. “Not quite.”

  “Tell me more about yourself. Brothers? Sisters? Family?” Randall asked, and genuinely seemed interested.

  Chloe gave him the rundown on her background and asked him the same to find out both his parents were dead, killed in an accident five years ago on a safari in Africa. Traffic accident, he assured her. They hadn’t been eaten by lions. Not that she had asked, but he had quite the sense of humor. Which in his present circumstances was pretty good, she thought. She was also surprised at how easy he was to talk to.

  “So ever since my divorce five years ago, I’ve dated, of course, but no one in particular has been all that special. I guess I mean I haven’t found ‘the one’ yet.”

  “Do you even think ‘the one’ exists?” Chloe asked.

  Randall shrugged. “I’d like to think so. I’m a closet romantic. Just don’t tell anyone.”

  “Your secret is safe with me.” Chloe smiled.

  As they were talking, Chloe noticed a man had sat down at the table directly behind them, or behind Randall, rather, since her back was against the back wall. At first, she hadn’t really thought anything of it, thinking he was just a regular patron. But as she and Randall continued to talk, the man’s body language just gave off a weird vibe. Enough of one that she kept glancing over at him to check out what he was doing. She saw him pull out a notebook, and just the way he acted when he did it didn’t sit well with her. She kept looking over at him.

  “What do you keep looking at?” Randall asked and started to turn around. “Don’t,” she whispered. “Don’t turn around.”

  Randall leaned forward. “Why not?” he said quietly.

  “You’re probably going to think I’m crazy, but there’s a guy who sat down a few minutes after I did, who just seems like he is trying to hear what we’re saying. I know that probably sounds paranoid.”

  “Paranoid is a way of life for me these days, so I’m not judging.”

  They sat there in silence for a few minutes, staring at each other, and then burst out laughing.

  “Should we stop talking?” Randall whispered again.

  “No, if he is trying to spy on us, it might tip him off, and I would really like to know if I’m right or imagining things.”

  Randall nodded. “So how long will you be here in Spencer?” he asked in a normal tone of voice.

  “My position was for a year, but in light of recent events, there may be more permanent possibilities. I hate saying that out loud, though, since it sounds so morbid.”

  “Would you want to stay here?”

  “So far, I like it. It’s not far from my family in Chicago, but definitely far enough.”

  They chatted about simple things for a few more minutes, and then Chloe noticed the man standing up and getting ready to walk out. He picked his phone up from the table to slide in his pocket, and Chloe could see a microphone icon on the screen. He had been listening to them! She conveyed as much to Randall as soon as the guy reached the front of the coffee shop, well out of earshot. She also grabbed her own phone and surreptitiously took a picture of the man. Randall looked at her strangely.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Chloe got up and started walking toward the front. She wanted to see where the guy was going. She was sure he was spying on them now. She stood by the front door and watched him cross the street and get into a black car. She whipped out her phone again and zoomed in on the license plate and snapped a picture. Thank God for smartphones. She needed to find a way to talk to Detective Rodriguez about this. Someone spying on Randall wasn’t right.

  She walked back to where Randall was waiting anxiously.

  “I took a picture of him. And his license plate. In case we see him again, I want to be sure.”

  “You really think he followed us here?”

  Chloe tilted her head and gave him a look. “Sorry. He followed you, not us. I’m nobody.”

  Randall sighed. “I guess you’re right. It’s just slowed down lately. The people following me and camping outside my doorstep. Wishful thinking that people forgot about me, I guess.”

  “Unfortunately, people love tawdry stories. I mean, look at all the reality TV out there.”

  “I just wish I wasn’t the focus.”

  “Well . . .” Chloe trailed off, not wanting to be rude and insensitive and say what she had been about to.

  Randall
gave a wry grin. “You can say it. We’re old friends now.”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “No, really, it’s okay. I would expect you to have doubts and questions. I mean, you hardly know me, and you seem like you haven’t yet written me off as guilty.”

  “I haven’t done anything,” Chloe said.

  “Yes, you have. You’ve listened, and you haven’t judged. At least you’ve taken the chance to get to know me.”

  “You’re welcome. I guess in my profession I’ve always learned to reserve judgment, as things aren’t always what they seem.”

  “You haven’t asked, but I want you to know I didn’t do it. I know it looks bad and is probably hard, if not impossible, to believe in my innocence, but that is the truth. That’s why Bill agreed to take a leave from the college and represent me. Because he knew me, and he was the only one who believed in me out of all my so-called friends. Amazing how few people really stick by you when the chips are down.”

  “Yeah, times like these really do show you whom you can count on. It sounds like Bill was a good friend.”

  They chatted for a few more minutes, until it was time for Chloe to leave. She had a faculty meeting at four p.m.

  “Do this again?” he asked tentatively, a hopeful look on his face.

  “Of course. You’re my first friend here. I can’t give that up.”

  “Great. I’ll give you a call later in the week.”

  As Chloe drove back to campus, she realized she hadn’t told Randall she believed in his innocence. She didn’t think he expected her to when he made that statement, but she wondered to herself why she hadn’t. Contrary to what all the news reports said, he didn’t seem like a greedy, evil monster, and she was usually a pretty good judge of character. So was there some part of her that felt he was guilty, and that’s why she hadn’t said anything?

  Chloe continued to ponder this all the way back to the school, but her thoughts were interrupted when she pulled in to see two cop cars sitting in the lot.

  She got out of the car, grabbed her bag, and headed up the steps. Had something else happened, or was this a follow-up?

  When she turned the corner to the hallway and once again saw cops outside her office door, her heart pounded. Something else must have happened. She quickened her pace and quickly reached the small group of people standing outside the office she had been assigned.

  “There you are,” Mallory exclaimed, giving her a hug, which took Chloe off guard, since she hardly knew her. Of course, Mallory was the friendly type. “We were so worried!”

  “I take it something else happened?” Chloe said to both Mallory and Dean Ziegler, who was also standing by. She saw Detective Rodriguez talking to a uniformed police officer. He glanced over, saw her, and gave a quick smile.

  “Someone broke into your office. I came back from lunch and the door was open. I thought you were in there and went to say hi and saw someone had completely trashed the place. I called the police, and then Dean Ziegler. We were afraid something had happened to you.”

  “I was just out having coffee,” Chloe said.

  “Not exactly a quiet start to your work here, Chloe. I hope this won’t scare you away,” Dean Ziegler said to her, looking worried.

  “Well, it’s not exactly what I expected, but I’m not easily frightened.”

  Detective Rodriguez walked up, as handsome as ever. Chloe noticed that Mallory looked about to swoon.

  “This seems very déjà vu, Detective,” Chloe said.

  “Unfortunately, it does. I take it your office didn’t look like this when you left it?”

  “Uh, no. I’m messy, but not that messy.”

  “Do you have something in there someone might want?”

  “Not that I know of. I haven’t accumulated much in two days.”

  “Dean Ziegler, is there a room we could use for privacy?” the detective asked.

  “Sure, sure. Use my office,” he said, walking them to the room and unlocking the door.

  “What aren’t you saying?” Detective Rodriguez asked, having picked up on her body language that she was thinking more than she was telling.

  “You think maybe my car getting broken into, and now this, isn’t just a coincidence?” Chloe said, and proceeded to fill him in on how she had met Randall for coffee and thought someone had been eavesdropping.

  To his credit, he didn’t move a muscle when she mentioned Randall Whittier. He stayed silent for a few minutes after she had finished.

  “I guess I don’t really understand why you were having coffee with an accused embezzler. Isn’t having criminal friends something a law professor shouldn’t do?”

  “True, it didn’t work out so well for Bill, if his murder is related. It’s kind of a long story. I went to see where Bill lived, and Randall happened to be outside, and I met him. One thing led to another and, well, he’s a nice guy. You did say you hoped I would be your eyes and ears.”

  Even to Chloe’s ears, it sounded lame.

  “Nice guy?” His eyebrows shot up questioningly. “What would your employers say about that?”

  “That’s why I didn’t want to talk in front of them out there. Well, one of the reasons.”

  “That’s your business, and I do appreciate your help. I agree that maybe these instances could be related to the relationship you are having with Mr. Whittier. Just be careful, Chloe. If Bill was killed because of Randall, this isn’t something to play with.”

  “I know.”

  Chapter 10

  Chloe woke up the next day exhausted and—she noticed after looking in the mirror—with large bags under her eyes. She’d tossed and turned all night. Her mind had been filled with thoughts of why Bill might have been murdered, why her office might have been broken into, and Randall Whittier and his entire situation, in an endless loop.

  Shuffling out to the kitchen, she opened the cabinet door, grabbed a k-cup and a coffee mug, and got the machine brewing. The gurgling of the machine and the smell of coffee soon to come made her feel a little more alert.

  She leaned against the counter, waiting the additional twenty seconds for the coffee to finish brewing, and then grabbed the cup, inhaling the aroma of the hazelnut, her favorite flavor. Knowing she had to let it cool for a few minutes if she didn’t want to burn her tongue, she glanced at the clock on the microwave to see it was just before seven.

  Too early to call Randall, which was what she had decided to do. She needed to ask him some questions that might help her get to the bottom of things. Not that Detective Rodriguez wasn’t doing his job, but she wasn’t one to sit by and let things happen without trying to find some answers herself. Even if that wold be the smarter thing to do. She had an eight o’clock class to get ready for, and then, after that, she would call him. She just hoped he didn’t mind her interfering in his business. She doubted it would be a problem. He’d been pretty forthcoming so far.

  “Rough night?” Mallory asked sympathetically as Chloe refilled her cup of coffee from the pot behind Mallory’s desk later that morning.

  Chloe looked at her quizzically.

  “You look tired.” Realizing that might have sounded rude, Mallory was quick to add, “Not that you look bad or anything.”

  Chloe smiled. “I didn’t sleep well last night. Neither did my class, or so it would seem. They all had a hard time staying awake and focusing, though I suspect it was for different reasons than what kept me up.”

  Mallory laughed. “I’m sure. Eight o’clock classes in the summer are ridiculous. We let faculty set their own summer schedule, and Bill was the only one who ever scheduled anything before ten. I think he took perverse pleasure in making students get up early. He said early classes separated those who were committed from those who weren’t. I’m just sorry you now have to deal with that.”

  “I can’t really argue with that philosophy, and normally, an early class wouldn’t bother me. I guess when students are half asleep, they don’t ask as many questions.”

&nb
sp; Chloe walked back to her office. Her third in as many days since they’d moved her once again, after someone had trashed the last one. Good thing so many of the faculty were off for the summer. She set her cup down on the coaster and reached for her cell to call Randall, who answered on the first ring.

  “Were you watching your phone, waiting for it to ring?” she said playfully.

  “Ha! Not exactly.”

  “Let me guess—you were playing Candy Crush with your morning coffee, so the phone was right in your hand.”

  “How’d you guess? Close, I’m playing Stupid Zombie. I feel stupid for playing it, and even stupider for telling you, but the neighbor kid turned me on to it and its mindless entertainment. I start playing, and next thing I know three hours have gone by.”

  Chloe laughed. “I won’t judge. Listen, if you’re going to be around today, I’d like to stop by and chat.”

  “Oh no. This doesn’t sound good.” His tone suddenly sobered.

  “It’s not bad,” she assured him, thinking that in the grand scheme of things going on in this world, telling him about the break-in wasn’t that big of a deal. And even though she could have just told him over the phone, she found herself wanting to see him. This would be a good excuse.

  “Well, in that case, I’m free all morning.”

  “Can I come now?”

  “Sure. I’ll even put on a fresh pot of coffee.”

  “Okay, see you in twenty.”

  Chloe got to his house and pulled into the same open spot she had before, proud of herself that she had remembered how to get there without using her GPS.

  Randall must have been watching out the window for her to arrive because just as she swung open the wrought iron gate to walk onto the short cement path to the front steps, he opened the door.

  “Welcome,” he said, coffee in hand. “I’m happy to see you again so soon, and curious as to why I’m so lucky.” He ushered her through the door and into the kitchen. He motioned for her to sit down in the breakfast nook that was built into the kitchen wall and had a bay of windows overlooking a nicely landscaped yard. He placed a steamy mug in front of her, and even though she didn’t need any more caffeine—her self-imposed limit for the day had passed long ago—she figured, what the hell. Why make a rule if you couldn’t break it now and then?