Murder 101: A Decker/Lazarus Novel (Decker/Lazarus Novels Book 22)

by Kellerman, Faye

  “After I got back to civilian life, I drifted into the academy because it seemed like my best option. I do well with a chain of command. I’m not the gadfly, McAdams. I’m not the wise guy or the renegade and I don’t like rogue cops on a crusade because they screw things up for the rest of us peons. I’m the drudge. I worked my cases with elbow grease. I worked them to death and mostly I got results. Do I have some cold cases that eat at me? You betcha I do. But maybe those cases will eventually be given a fresh pair of eyes. And if they call me for information, I will be happy to cooperate. All I want is justice for the victims. No ego, just solutions. Which brings us to the all-important question. Are you with me or not? Because I’m going to demand 110 percent.”

  McAdams nodded. “Whatever you need. And I’ll try to keep my obnoxiousness in check.”

  “It’ll come out from time to time, but that’s okay. As long as you’re dependable.”

  “I’m good at dependable.”

  “Great. So let’s go find Julia in 4D and see if we can’t get some justice for Angeline Moreau. I may not have been suited as a lawyer, but I’m a great advocate for the dead.”

  CHAPTER 10

  THE DOOR WAS partially open with no consideration of personal safety. Decker knocked and a female voice told them to come in. The girl was about five ten and a hundred and ten pounds judging from her sticklike arms. Long blond hair, bright blue eyes, a small upturned nose, thick red lips. She wore a wife beater and board shorts and had slippers on her feet. Skimpy dress to meet the police but it was hot inside. She stuck out a hand. “Julia Kramer. You guys must be the police.”

  Yes, we guys are the police. Decker shook her hand. “I’m Detective Decker and this is Detective McAdams. Thank you for seeing us on such short notice.” He turned to McAdams whose mouth was slightly agape. Julia smiled, obviously used to male attention. She plopped down on her bed and sat cross-legged. “You guys can sit down if you want.”

  “I’m fine standing, but thank you.” Decker looked around the room. It consisted of two beds that had been lofted on high legs for more space, two desks, two chairs, and two closets. “I’m actually here to talk about Angeline Moreau.”

  “Why?” Her blue eyes narrowed. “What’s she done?”

  “What makes you think she’s done anything? Has she been in trouble before?”

  “Not really. I mean not in serious trouble. I mean we had this anal RA. Not anymore, thank God. We forgot our room cards and, yes, it was late. But so what? I mean it’s an art school, right. And she’s getting all amped because we’re a little tipsy. Yes, we were underage at the time. Not anymore thank you very much. But c’mon. Like the school cares?”

  Decker pulled up a chair and sat down next to the bed, giving her some breathing room but not much. “Does the school care?”

  “As long as it’s in a red cup, everyone’s down with that. But I’m guessing you’re not here to talk about two girls getting wasted, right?”

  “Right.”

  “So what’s going on with Angeline?” She suddenly gasped. “Is she okay?”

  “Let me answer your question with a question.” Decker pulled out a notebook. “When was the last time you saw her?”

  “Oh my God! She’s missing?” She covered her mouth with her hands. “What happened?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to figure out. Right now we’re trying to get a timeline of her actions. When did you last see her, Julia?”

  “Oh my God! I can’t believe I’m actually talking about this!” Her voice was a whisper. “Not Friday . . . maybe Thursday of last week?”

  “Morning, evening?”

  “Morning, I think. It could have been Wednesday.” She looked up at Decker. “She hardly lives here anymore.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “She rented another place . . . closer to town.”

  “So you know about her apartment.”

  “Of course. We’re close . . . or we used to be close.” Her eyes formed tears. “Did you guys check her apartment?”

  “We’re doing that right now.”

  Her eyes went from Decker’s face to McAdams and then back to Decker. “Have you called her cell?”

  “It goes straight to voice mail.” That part was true. “Why aren’t you close anymore?”

  The girl looked down. “It’s not like we had a fight or anything. We just drifted apart.”

  “I know about Lance Terry. What happened between the two of them?”

  “That was over a year ago.” Julia sighed. “She broke it off. Lance was very upset, but he’s moved on. He has a new girlfriend.”

  “So . . . is she seeing someone else?”

  “I’m not sure. We kinda stopped talking. It was gradual. It’s okay. We all have our own lives.” Tears streamed down her cheek.

  “So you don’t know if she has a new boyfriend. Because if you have a name, I need it. Time is important.”

  “She . . .” Julia stopped herself.

  “What?” Decker motioned to McAdams to sit down and returned his attention to Julia. “Tell me, hon. We need all the help we can get.”

  “I honestly don’t know about a new boyfriend, but I’ll tell you what I do know.” She bit her lip. “Angeline doesn’t come from money . . . like a lot of people here. I mean it isn’t as obvious at Littleton as it is at Morse McKinley because we’re more socially conscious.”

  A pause.

  “She suddenly started toting around very expensive designer bags. The kind you can’t even buy here. You’ve got to go to New York or Boston to get Celine or Nancy Rodriguez or Chanel.”

  “How expensive is expensive?”

  “Over a thousand dollars retail. Not only that, her boots. I mean I didn’t check the label or anything, but when she crossed her legs, I saw the red sole.”

  “Christian Louboutin,” Decker said.

  “Yeah . . . right. Exactly. It’s not that she dressed expensively. Jeans and sweaters like the rest of the campus. But she did accessorize expensively. I finally asked her about them. She smiled and winked and that’s as far as she got to telling me about it. I mean . . . someone had to be paying the rent on her apartment. I know she didn’t have that kind of spending cash.”

  “Do you think she might have been doing something illegal to get extra money?”

  “Like what? Hooking?”

  “I was thinking more about pushing, but do you think she was hooking?”

  “No. Who’d she ho with? The guys here get it for free and Greenbury isn’t exactly crawling with sugar daddies.”

  “So what about pushing?”

  “No way. You can’t get that kind of money selling shit . . . uh, stuff. Most people get it for free at the parties. Besides, Angeline was more of a boozer than a pothead. Not that she binges that much. She’s like all of us here.” She wiped a tear away. “This is really upsetting.”

  “I know it is. But we need as much information as you can give us. Could she have found a rich boyfriend?”

  “If she did, I don’t know about it.”

  “Fair enough. Julia, do you know if Angeline has been having problems with anyone?”

  She shook her head no.

  “Think about it. A guy? A girl? An RA or even a professor?”

  “No stalkers if that’s what you mean.”

  “Was there anyone specifically that she complained to you about?”

  “She complained about people, sure. Mostly that everyone here was stupid. Angeline was an intellectual snob. She would have rather gone to Brown, but Littleton offered her close to a free ride.”

  “So she felt a little out of place?”

  “Not really. We had fun. I think at the beginning of the year, she came down with a major case of senioritis. She just kind of withdrew.”

  “What’s her major?”

&nbs
p; “Art history. Littleton specializes in the arts.”

  “Was she doing a thesis?” McAdams asked.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Do you know the specific topic?”

  “Yeah, actually I do. Asian export textile design in the eighteenth century and its influence on art nouveau. Why do you ask?”

  Decker said nothing, but the two men exchanged glances. McAdams jammed his hands in his pockets and looked around. “I don’t see a lot of textbooks here.”

  “Try her apartment. Like I said, she was almost never here anymore.”

  “I know dorm life pretty well. I just graduated a few years ago. It’s hard to study in your room. Where did Angeline study before she got her own apartment?”

  “You mean which library?”

  “Yeah, I guess I do.”

  “Rayfield is our big research library but it isn’t as big as Huntington.”

  “Huntington is at Duxbury?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is that where she did her research?”

  “Probably.”

  There was a pause. Decker waited for Tyler to finish with his questions. It was good to see the kid finally take initiative. When he remained quiet, Decker said, “Do you know if Angeline does stained glass?”

  Julia paused then shook her head. “Not that I know of.”

  McAdams was playing with his smartphone. “Uh . . . it’s taught as an elective at Littleton.”

  “I . . . don’t know every course at the school so . . . there you go.”

  Decker let it ride. “Julia, I don’t have Angeline’s recent cell-phone records. But I do have an old phone bill. Can you help us identify the numbers on it?”

  “I can give it a shot.”

  McAdams pulled out the bill and handed it to her. Julia looked up and smiled. The kid attempted to smile back but it came out as more of a grimace.

  “Um . . . this is me, of course. This is Emily . . . Emily Hall. This is Lance . . . hmm; I didn’t know they were even still in contact. This is take-out pizza. This is take-out Chinese. This is our nail salon . . . appears she was going without me, thank you very much.” She sighed. “I must seem petty.”

  “You were hurt,” Decker said.

  “I was very hurt. She blew me off and I didn’t know why. And the worst part was, she wouldn’t talk about it.” She looked down. “How long has she been missing?”

  “We’re trying to figure that out. Can you tell me when you last spoke to her?”

  “I guess it was the last time I saw her.” She looked up. “After she broke up with Lance, she changed . . . we didn’t see that much of each other.”

  “Who else should we talk to about Angeline?”

  “Maybe Emily Hall although I was closer to her than Emily was . . . I don’t mean it to sound jealous, just the way it was. When she complained to me about Angeline’s disappearance act, I was the one defending her. I suppose you could talk to Lance if they’re still in contact.” She thought a moment. “Maybe she’ll just show up.”

  “Did she often take long weekends away?”

  “Sometimes. Was she in class today?”

  “No, she wasn’t,” Decker said. “Did she have class today?”

  “I don’t know her schedule anymore.” She shook her head. “I mean, who reported her missing? Musta been her parents. Have you spoken to her parents?”

  “We have.”

  “This is just terrible! Do you think she ran away or . . .”

  Decker said, “Do you have a water bottle?”

  “Sure, in my minifridge. Help yourself. ”

  Decker found a bottle, opened it up, and handed it to her. “There’s no easy way to tell you this, Julia.” He sat down next to her. “Angeline was found dead in her apartment.”

  “Oh! My! God!” The tears were instant. “Oh God! I feel sick . . . oh, God, oh, God!”

  McAdams sprung up. “Drink, Julia.”

  “I can’t . . . I feel funny . . . real dizzy.”

  “Put your head between your knees,” Decker said. “Slow your breathing down.”

  But it was too late. Her eyes fluttered and rolled back into her head. She fell backward onto the mattress, dropping the bottle down McAdams’s leg, water spilling inside his boot. The kid jumped up. “Shit!”

  Drolly, Decker said, “Well, kid, it looks like you finally got your feet wet.”

  “Aren’t you witty.”

  “You asked good questions by the way, Harvard. Keep it up.” Decker moistened a tissue with the remaining water in the bottle and ran it over her forehead. Julia stirred and started breathing out loud. “You’re okay, Julia. You’re okay.”

  She tried to get up but fell back down.

  “Slowly.” He helped her sit back up. “Are you still dizzy?” She shrugged. He said, “Take a few minutes to catch your breath.”

  “Why didn’t . . .” She was crying. “You shoulda told me right away.”

  “I apologize but I needed to talk to you first. Do you need some water?”

  She nodded, downing the water bottle and then wiping her forehead, her face pale and pasty, her lips trying to talk but her throat not getting the words out.

  “Her parents know,” Decker said. “They’re coming in from Florida.”

  “Oh my God!” The tears wouldn’t stop. “Poor people!”

  “Other than her parents and police, you’re the first person we’ve told. We need to talk to Emily and Lance before they find out from someone else. Do they live in Maple Hall as well?”

  “Emily is upstairs . . . 8C.”

  “What about Lance?”

  “Elm Hall. I don’t know his room number.”

  “I’ll find it. Julia, I’ll need you to keep this quiet until we’ve had a chance to complete our interviews.”

  “Does . . . the school know?”

  “Yes. Before we go, we’d like to look around the room.”

  “Her stuff? Sure . . . I guess. Is it legal?”

  “She’s dead, Julia. These first few hours are crucial.”

  “Sure, look around.”

  The two detectives began to search: Angeline’s desk, her closet, her bed, her personal life. Within the first few minutes, it was clear to Decker that the young woman had basically moved out of her dorm room. Nothing of interest, not even schoolwork. He smiled at Julia who had regained some of her color but was still in a state of suspended animation. McAdams was checking out the pockets of her clothing.

  “Anything?” Decker asked.

  “A comb, old lipstick, pens, pencils, squashed candy, loose change.”

  “Paper?”

  “Store receipts, credit card receipts, and a few scraps of paper with notes written on them . . . mostly to-do lists. I’ll bag them all up.”

  Decker turned his attention back to Julia. “Anything else that she might have wanted to hide from prying eyes? What about a diary?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Decker handed her his card and McAdams did likewise. “If you think of anything else, call anytime.”

  She nodded. “Are you going to talk to Emily now?”

  “Yes, if she’s in.”

  She said, “Once you tell her, can you have her text me or call me? I don’t know if I want to be alone tonight.”

  “Lonely, sad, or are you worried about your personal safety?”

  She looked down. “Is this something that I need to worry about?”

  Decker said, “Honestly, I don’t know. Is there a specific person who you’re worried about, Julia? Someone out there who is giving you the creeps?”

  “Not really.” Stated without a lot of conviction.

  “What’s on your mind?” Decker asked. “Who are you worried about?”

  “No one specific . . . really.”
/>   McAdams said, “But guys do get drunk and behave badly, right?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Do you think that’s what might have happened to Angeline?” She shrugged helplessly. Decker said, “In the next few hours, we’ll be talking to a lot of people. Like I said, if anyone makes you feel uneasy, give me a call.”

  She let out a gush of air. “I’ll call you, I promise.”

  “After I’m done with Emily, I’ll come back to check on you,” Decker said. “In the meantime, it’s always a good idea to lock your doors.”

  CHAPTER 11

  THE INTERVIEW WITH friend Emily didn’t provide any new insights, just a fresh batch of tears from another vulnerable young woman. Maybe a guy’s perspective would be more enlightening. As they made their way over to Elm Hall, Lance Terry’s dorm, McAdams said, “Looks like Angeline had lost interest in college. Typical for seniors.”

  Decker didn’t answer, churning around his own thoughts. The men walked in silence for a few moments.

  “Did I piss you off or something?”

  “No, I’m not pissed at anyone. Why would you think that?”

  “You’re not answering me and I piss people off all the time.”

  “Just thinking.” A pause. “Even brain-dead cops do that from time to time.”

  “Are we really having this conversation—again?” When Decker didn’t answer, the kid exhaled. “Look. I know I’m an arrogant ass . . . with a weak stomach. But I’m not stupid. I told you I’m in this all the way. So if you deign to share your thoughts, I might deign to add an insight or two.”

  “You do have insight. So you tell me what you’re thinking and I can shoot you down.”

  McAdams smiled. “Like everyone else.”

  “In the biz, we call it a discussion. You go first . . . please.”

  “Since you said please.” McAdams collected his ideas. “I don’t think the crime had anything to do with the college per se. Angeline was psychologically gone . . . all but graduated. And when you add the designer purses and shoes, I’m thinking that someone had to be giving her money, right?”

  “Makes sense.”