by Laney Monday
I’d been warned since I was a teenager that the law could be especially harsh with people it deemed “martial arts experts” who committed assault. In some states, it counted as Assault with a Deadly Weapon.
Will summed up the situation for Sanders. Sanders shook his head at me. I could tell he felt pretty sorry for Will. Some smart people, even sharp, dedicated police officers, just didn’t know how to pick ’em when it came to the opposite sex.
“Let’s get this guy checked out.” He pointed at Gunter. “And then off to the station to join these two.”
These two. Me and Aaron, the art fraud.
“Brenna, I think you just mopped that same row of mats five times,” Blythe said.
“Huh?” I could barely function, let alone think or remember what I’d already mopped. It had been a real battle just getting up this morning. We were running late and our campers would be here soon, eager to start their day.
I’d spent an awkward hour or so in police custody before I was released and allowed to go home with Blythe last night. I hadn’t really gotten a chance to talk to Will. I didn’t even want to think about it right now. I just wanted to sleep.
Before I turned in for the night, I’d e-mailed Helen from the Blaster the scoop. Nothing about the investigation, just what I’d witnessed and heard myself. With the election a day away, we needed to make sure the public knew about Hatton’s fraudulent art scheme. Better to have him knocked out of the race at the last minute than have him get elected, than have Bonney Bay suffer through a second mayor turning out to be a criminal and getting removed from office.
Blythe and I were too spent to teach anything new, so after the kids arrived, we warmed them up and declared it a game day. As we supervised a noisy game of Bulldog, I asked Blythe, “Do you think this art thing has anything to do with the murder?”
“I don’t know. But the police will investigate it. They’ll find out.”
Right. The police. Not me. When was I going to learn that lesson?
“Do you think they’ll charge them both with fraud?” Blythe asked.
“Probably. I don’t know if it will stick or how severe the punishment will be if it does, though.”
“But Gunter’s campaign is over, that’s for sure.”
“I hope so,” I said. “I’ve never trusted him. A lot of people dismissed his bad character when it came to Millie. People think our character in our personal lives is different somehow. But now we have evidence that Gunter wasn’t just willing to cheat with another man’s wife; he was willing to cheat when it came to his art career, too. I feel kind of bad for the that kid Aaron, though. I know he’s just as guilty, but Gunter probably came to him with a very generous offer. He probably didn’t go looking to cheat like Gunter did.”
At noon, Blythe and I were in the dojo, going through our supplies and taking inventory now that camp was over. The bell on the studio door dinged, and Will entered and pushed it shut behind him with his foot. His hands were full with cold, whipped-cream-topped coffees. Blythe was closest to the door, and he offered one to her first. She gave him a grateful hug.
“Hi.” I forced the greeting over the lump in my throat.
Will gave me a tired smile. “Iced Raspberry mocha. I thought something different might perk you up.”
Will wanted to perk me up? That, in itself, perked me up. “Thank you.” I took a long drink and enjoyed the flood of sugar and caffeine. Ahh, the taste of love.
“Can we talk out back for a minute?” he said.
“Sure. Be right back, Bly.”
She waved me off, and Will and I went out the back door, to the parking lot.
“Before you say anything, Will, I’m sorry. I completely humiliated you.”
Will just looked at me for a second with his big brown eyes. A little smile played on his lips.
“What?” I demanded.
“You’re getting better at this apologizing thing.”
“Well, unfortunately I’m getting a lot of practice.”
“True. But actually, Chief Sanders thinks you’re pretty brave.”
“But stupid.”
“Well…”
“Will!”
“I don’t know what to think, Brenna. It makes me so mad when you pull stunts like that, but I know your heart’s in the right place, and I can’t deny you’ve helped solve every murder this town has had to deal with since you came here.” He paused, then said, “And when I think about it, I don’t know what I would’ve done, if I were you.”
“I’m still sorry.”
“And I still love you.”
“You do?”
“Of course.” He took the coffee out of my hand, set it down on the step, and put his arms around me. He kissed me for a long time, so soft and sweet.
“I kind of knew what I was getting into as far as your snooping goes before we ever had our first date, you know?”
“I guess so.” Yeah, I’d definitely gotten into a little trouble before the two of us were ever a thing.
“So I guess I’m going to have to learn to live with it.”
“Constant humiliation? It’s not so bad once you get used to it.”
“Maybe not so much of that.”
“Ha! Seriously, Will, I was thinking maybe this art fraud ring is related to the murder.”
“Maybe. It sure wasn’t Delaney.”
“It wasn’t?”
“Nope. We released her, too. Delaney has a solid alibi. When she confessed, we double and triple-checked it. Three people swear they were with her. And then there’s her claim that Dina was stabbed multiple times, when she was only stabbed once.”
“Wow. Did she recant?”
“Yeah, it only took about an hour for her to take it all back. The funny thing was, she stuck to her guns until we told her we had evidence that Zack wasn’t the killer either.”
“You do? You have evidence that it wasn’t Zack?”
“No, not really. Just the alibi.”
“But she was clearly trying to protect her brother.”
“That’s right. Just like he was trying to protect her.”
“But why? Why did they each think the other one was involved? And how did they know about the meat thermometer?”
“They both claim they just heard it around town.”
“I didn’t tell anyone about that, Will.”
“I know. Someone else from the Police Department might’ve said something before we told everyone to keep it strictly under wraps.”
“Or someone else might’ve seen the body before I did.”
“Or even witnessed the murder,” Will said.
Now there was a chilling thought. A witness, who hadn’t come forward? If there was one, What was he or she afraid of, and did they know the killer personally?
I picked my coffee back up and downed some more. My brain was waking up, and my wheels were starting to turn.
28
Will went home to get some sleep, and I went back inside. I offered to hold down the fort while Blythe went upstairs and took a nap. To my surprise, she took me up on the offer. I sat at my desk and stared at the spreadsheets I was supposed to be working on, and I recalled what Ken had told me about how he found out about Gunter’s scheme—College kids aren’t very discreet. Dina Hermiston’s grandson is friends with one of the kids who’s involved. He told her grandson, and Dina found out and confronted Gunter about it at the barber shop.
Was Aaron that kid? Or was it one of the other young artists involved in this? Ken had certainly made it sound like there was more than one.
I tried to remember everything about Aaron, everything he’d said. Right before Gunter had told him to shut up, he’d said, No one should die over this. He’d been grumbling to himself, or to Gunter. It was hard to understand him. Had he really said, No one should’ve died over this?
I needed to find out more about Aaron, but I didn’t know his last name. I picked up my phone, went on social media, and found Zack. If Zack was friendly wit
h Aaron, maybe I could dig up more about him through his social media. It only took a minute of scrolling through updates, jokes, memes, and pictures of Zack with his friends, to figure out that Zack’s roommate’s name was Dalton.
Dalton.
I told Dalton— That’s what Aaron said before Gunter cut him off. Coincidence? Dalton wasn’t exactly a common name.
Delaney had mentioned that Zack lived on campus. It wasn’t hard to figure out which dorm, from the pictures on social media. And then, I hit the ultimate jackpot. A picture of Zack goofing off, right in front of his dorm room. The number 225 was clearly visible, and I could see inside the room. The interior matched the other pictures of him “Chillin’ with my roomie.” It was definitely Zack’s room.
I was about to call Will when an alert popped up on my phone. There was a new report out from the Blaster. The headline: “Herbert Random implicated in murder of Dina Hermiston?”
What!
I read on in disbelief:
According to a reliable source with the Bonney Bay Police Department, Herbert Random, one of our three candidates for mayor, is currently being questioned regarding the disturbing murder of Mrs. Dina Hermiston at Brightside Park last week. The decision to question Mr. Random came as a result of an anonymous tip. It appears that Mr. Random has no alibi and a strong motive—a dispute over campaign donations promised by Mrs. Hermiston, which never came to fruition.
In other shocking news regarding this election, Gunter Hatton is currently being held on suspicion of fraud…
The story went on to include my account of last night’s events. I was listed as: an anonymous source, present during an exchange of fraudulent art works.
I dialed Helen.
“Hello?” She greeted me in her crisp German accent.
“I just saw your article.”
“Ye-e-es?”
“I don’t know who your source is, but that story about Herbert Random is crazy!” Why hadn’t Will mentioned that Herbert was being questioned? I reminded myself he wasn’t supposed to tell me anything. Of course, this could all be unfolding right now, when Will was off duty and possibly out of the loop.
“I can not tell you who my source is. You know this.”
“But Helen, you had to lead with Random instead of Hatton? I mean, Hatton’s the one who’s actually done something criminal.” I barely held back from saying something really snippy about Gunter being Helen’s brother-in-law. Herbert Random was the grandfather of one of Bonney Bay PD’s officers. Why would any of them leak something about him? Unless it was Tony Pfeiffer. He might do it, just to spite me, because I supported Herbert’s campaign. Not to mention, Tony was always taunting Walter. It drove Will nuts, and he’d talked to Walter several times about sticking up for himself.
Helen said, “I’m sorry, Brenna. I wasn’t trying to draw attention away from Gunter. It’s just how the story came together.”
I sighed deeply. This was so frustrating, and so, so not good for Bonney Bay.
“You don’t think Herbert really did it, do you?”
“Of course not! At least, I hope not, and I don’t have any reason to, other than the tip. But I have to report the news. And with the election so close, how could I wait? What if he turned out to be guilty?”
“What if he isn’t and Jessie Pakowski ends up winning by default?” I hissed into the phone. “Jessie. Pakowski. Our. Mayor.”
“Brenna, you know it’s the decision of the Blaster to remain neutral on this election.”
I wanted to talk to Helen, the person. Not Helen, the Blaster, dang it!
Helen said, “Do you know that no one from the Department has leaked a single lead, a single anonymous report, not one name, until now?”
“I understand. You had to report it.”
“Not only that, but to me, that means something. Why no other names? Why now? To me, it must mean there is something significant there.”
There was a heavy pause. I didn’t have anything to say to that. Herbert Random was not the murder, and I knew it. I just couldn’t prove it.
Walter had told me he thought Gunter Hatton had some of the police in his pocket. But surely everyone understood that Hatton was beyond help now. He’d committed fraud, and that was all over the Blaster, thanks to Yours Truly.
I wondered again about Tony Pfeiffer, whether he was the cop Walter had in mind. He definitely was the type to not care much about the damage that might be done to a person’s reputation before the truth was found out. Or maybe his dislike for the Randoms was so intense that he hoped it would damage them, whether true or not. He had a long history of teasing Walter mercilessly. I’d always thought it was because Walter was in many ways an easy target and he didn’t know how to fight back. But maybe there was more to it.
I said, “Helen, keep your phone on. I’m going to have some news for you soon. Something that’ll blow your anonymous source out of the water,” and I hung up.
My hands were shaking, I was so ticked off about this whole thing. I calmed myself down enough to remember what I was about to do before I saw that headline—call Will and tell him my suspicions about the connection between the art students and the murder.
I called Will, but he didn’t answer. He was probably sound asleep already. I left him a message, then considered calling the station. How long would it take them to act? To get a warrant, to interview the suspects? Too long. The election was tomorrow. This murder business needed to be settled now, or Jessie Pakowski might as well be uncontested. I couldn’t let that happen to Bonney Bay, and I couldn’t let an innocent man’s reputation take that kind of hit.
Time to pay Zack a visit and see if I could jog his memory about where he’d heard about the murder weapon—and warn him his roommate just might be a killer. And if they’d killed in order to silence Dina Hermiston, who’d found out about the art fraud from Zack, Zack might be in danger of suffering the same fate.
When Blythe came back down from her nap, it was three o’clock. I told about my suspicions, my plans.
“Let me guess. You need me to handle classes so you can go snoop.”
“So I can warn Zack, before it’s too late! And, yeah. I might not be back in time.”
Blythe glanced at the window. It was broad daylight, a little overcast, but the sun was peeking through the clouds.
She folded her arms. “Alright. At least if you go now, Sammi and Katie can’t try to get involved. Stay in contact. Don’t go into any dark alleys alone.”
Okay, so I couldn’t say I’d never do that. But this time I didn’t need to. “It’s a dorm. Hundreds of people. I looked at some maps online, and I found out the Campus Safety office is even in the same building.”
“Okay. That makes me feel better. Hurry up and get out of here. You might be able to make it in time for most of the peewee class.”
29
Coastal University was small, historic, and no doubt expensive. Ancient poplar and maple trees shaded red brick buildings, and ivy climbed many of the walls. Zack’s dorm was a massive, old brick building, part of the original campus. I mounted the front steps and entered the noisy, slightly musty-smelling foyer. I acted like I knew where I was going. It wasn’t too hard, since the central stairway was impossible to miss. It had that sweeping, built-to-impress feel, from a bygone era. On the second floor, many of the students had their doors open, and some were still moving in for the new semester.
Zack’s door was shut, but I could hear noise from a TV or something coming from inside. I knocked.
“Yeah? Come in!” I heard Zack shout.
I opened the door cautiously. Zack sat in a bean bag chair, playing a video game.
“Oh. Hey.” He paused his game and stood up to greet me. “Come on in. What’s going on?”
Where to begin? “Hi, Zack. Is your roommate around?”
“Dalton? Do you know Dalton?”
“No…is he here?”
“He went to the store, but he should be back soon. What are you doing here
?”
It was now or never. If I waited, Dalton might come back. “I don’t know how to tell you this, Zack, but I think you’re in danger.”
I told Zack about Dalton, about my fears. He sagged back down in the bean bag and put his face in his hands. Here I’d thought he was being kind of callous playing video games after his grandma had been murdered and his sister had tried to take the rap for him. He was probably just trying to zone out for a while, and now this news brought it all back.
Zack lifted his face. “Have you told the police?”
“No, not yet. I didn’t get a chance to, and I wanted to warn you before it was too late.”
“I’m glad you did.” Zack suddenly got up. “Are you thirsty? I have lemonade.”
“Uh…sure, yeah, I guess so.”
Zack went to the mini fridge in the corner and took out a jug of lemonade. Next to the fridge was a plastic cart, the kind with lots of drawers. He set the jug on top of it and pulled two cups out of the top drawer.
He was standing in kind of a weird way as he poured the lemonade into the plastic tumblers, blocking my view of the top of the roller cart he was using as a table. Great. Those cups were probably dirty and he didn’t want me to see. Oh, well. I’d survived eating in plenty of Third World countries during my travels as an elite athlete. World level judo players attended endless training camps and tournaments everywhere from Venezuela to Azerbaijan. My immunity to general filth was pretty good.
Then I saw him make a weird, quick jerking motion with his hand. He moved his body and lowered his hands. I couldn’t see those hands, but from the way he held his arms, I got the feeling he was putting the lid on something. He slipped a tiny bottle into his hoodie pocket. I turned around real quick, so he didn’t know I was watching, and pretended to look at the vintage movie poster on his wall.
Did he just spike our drinks? No, he’d only spiked one drink. I’d only seen him tip that bottle once. And I hadn’t seen which cup. Maybe he wanted a little something stronger after the news I’d just given him. Maybe he had a drinking problem and he didn’t want me to know. Or maybe…maybe he’d spiked my drink. Now, why would someone do that?