Mother's Day: A Professor Molly Mystery (Professor Molly Mysteries Book 6)

by Frankie Bow

  I paused and looked up.

  “Don’t say that. We’ll get you through your stats class.”

  “I dunno. I think fate has other plans for me.”

  I hope you’re not counting on a big inheritance, I thought.

  Jeremy produced a silver gadget and brought it to his mouth. Immediately he was enveloped by billows of white vapor. The artificial-cherry odor was overwhelming.

  “May I ask you not smoke, please?”

  He looked at me and slowly exhaled, and even more vapor poured out of his nose and mouth. He looked like a scrawny, insolent little dragon.

  “I’m not smoking,” he said when he’d emptied his lungs. “I’m vaping.”

  “And I’m pregnant,” I shot back before I had time to think about it.

  My voice reverberated in the sunny room. I had not intended to disclose my condition. Except for Emma, no one at work knew yet (and for some reason, Emma didn’t quite believe it). I wasn’t even planning to tell my regular classes. Sure, after a certain point they’d figure it out on their own, but explicitly announcing it seemed one step removed from strolling in and declaring I HAD SEX!!

  Jeremy stared at me and slowly, resentfully, shut the device down and put it away.

  Too bad. If he wanted to complain to Victor and get someone else to tutor him, he could be my guest. I didn’t know what was in that vapor. And darned if I was going to avoid wine and undercooked eggs and restaurant tea and cats for nine months, only to have my unborn child done in by some vaping doofus.

  Fortunately, we finished the lesson without further incident. After we had finished and Edward had shown me out, I sat in my car and called my obstetrician’s office.

  I didn’t want to call from my office as our walls are thin enough to hear everything. I knew this because I used to hear every embarrassing word of Rodge Cowper’s self-affirmation tapes as clear as day.

  I noticed the expensive electric car was gone; the lawyers, or whoever they were, had left.

  “I was around someone who was vaping,” I said as soon as the nurse was on the line. “Should I worry?”

  “Probably no harm from just once,” she said. “Just make sure you don’t ingest the liquid. It’s got a high concentration of nicotine. If you drink it, it can kill you.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  I was watching Emma’s talk online when Donnie came home. He crept up behind me and kissed me behind the ear, which made me yelp with surprise and yank off my headphones.

  “Sorry to interrupt, but I thought you’d be hungry. I brought home some chicken katsu. I made sure to get an extra-crispy batch because I know that’s how you like it.”

  He peeled the tinfoil back from the tray. The meaty odor made me want to clap my hands over my face and run out of the room. But I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

  “That was so thoughtful,” I squeaked, trying not to breathe, “But I don’t think my stomach can handle meat right now.”

  “It’s chicken, not meat.” Donnie looked crestfallen. “And we brine it beforehand to pull all the blood out.”

  I jumped up and dashed to the bathroom, leaving him standing next to my toppled chair.

  Later that evening, I was able to make a meal of a small bowl of cereal with plain yogurt instead of milk. Donnie had eaten already and packed up the rest of the chicken katsu in the freezer. Over dinner, I told him about my suspicions about the Brigham family.

  “And I know you’re just going to tell me not to get involved,” I said. “But I think Jeremy Brigham’s trying to kill Bernardine Brigham before she finalizes the will.”

  Donnie set down his wine glass.

  “Okay, let’s look at it this way. What if one of your students came to you with this story? What would you say?”

  “Like if they were trying to weasel out of a deadline? I’d say, that’s a new one, you already kill off all your grandparents?”

  He laughed.

  “You’re starting to sound like Emma. No, what if you had a student come to you with exactly the story you’re telling me? And they asked you, Professor Barda, what do you think I should do?”

  “I guess I’d say, if you think someone’s in danger, tell the police, and don’t go back to that house.”

  “Hmm.” Donnie took a sip of wine.

  “Okay, maybe I’ll talk to Victor about getting someone else to do the tutoring, and we can figure out another way for me to make up that class. I don’t really have anything solid to take to the police, though. I know Bernardine Brigham’s health is mysteriously declining, I know she wants to cut Jeremy out of her will, and if I were Jeremy I’d want her to die before that happened. And she’s a perfect person to poison because she refuses to see a doctor.”

  “You’re sure she’s being poisoned? How do you know she isn’t actually sick?”

  “Well, no, that’s the thing. I’m maybe sixty percent sure. Seventy-five percent. Maybe you can mention it to Detective Medeiros. You know, offhandedly. You still see him at the Drive-Inn, don’t you?”

  “He comes in for plate lunch. Molly, if you see evidence of a real crime, you should call the police yourself. If I tell Ka`imi what you just told me, all that is, is gossip. By the way, I saw you were watching a video of Emma. Was that her book talk?”

  “Yeah. Boy, you weren’t kidding about the protest. I tried to warn her, you know.”

  “I didn’t realize how bad it was till I saw it on the news. I’m glad you didn’t get hurt. Have you talked to Emma since then? Is she okay?”

  “Is she okay? With all the controversy her books are selling like hot malasadas. Maybe I should write a book and instigate a protest against myself. Then I really could afford to quit this stupid tutoring job.”

  “Molly, I don’t want to tell you what to do, but we’re not hurting for money. You can quit this tutoring thing if you want.”

  “I am tempted. It’s not like I don’t have two other classes to keep me busy, not to mention the stuff I have to deal with as department chair. I had to get the Title Nine officer to come down and explain to Rodge Cowper that no matter what her initials are, it’s not okay to address a full-figured young lady as ‘Double-D’ in front of her classmates.”

  “Maybe you can take the weekend to think about it. I just want you and our baby to be safe.”

  “Hear that, Baby?” I said to my stomach. “We’re on your side. So please don’t poison us when you grow up, okay?”

  “That reminds me, your mother called me again. She asked me why you’re not returning her calls. I told her I’d have you call her back.”

  “I will,” I promised. “Eventually.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  When I saw Jeremy Brigham on Monday I could see right away that something was wrong. He was paler than ever, and seemed to be having trouble focusing his eyes.

  “Did you have a nice weekend?” I asked as I flipped the pages of the textbook. A vile odor hit my nostrils. I looked up to see Jeremy unconscious on the table, his cheek pressed into a spreading pool of vomit.

  “Help!” I yelled, but quickly realized there was no one in the house who could help. I’d have to risk the doctor-hating Bernardine’s wrath by calling 9-1-1. Fortunately, the dispatcher knew where the Brigham house was. I waited next to Jeremy until I heard the whoop of the ambulance out on the road.

  I followed the two blue-shirted paramedics as they wheeled a gurney down the dark hallway. From behind a closed door, I heard Mrs. Brigham call out, “Edward?”

  “Keep going,” I urged them. “Your patient’s down there.”

  It was reassuring to see how quickly they swung into action. It seemed to take seconds for them to get Jeremy cleaned up, lying on the gurney, and fitted with an oxygen mask.

  “Has he had thoughts of suicide or self-harm?” the woman asked me as the man fastened Jeremy down for transport.

  “I don’t know. He did say some strange things to me last week.”

  “Such as?”

  “Pinpoint pupils,” the
man said. He was bending over Jeremy, shining a flashlight into his eye.

  “He said he might not finish school because fate had other plans or something. I filed a student of concern report with the university. I should say I submitted one, but I just got a message back saying they couldn’t take it because he’s not officially enrolled this semester.”

  “Was he drinking this?” She indicated the half-finished green smoothie on the table, which looked exactly like the pool of green liquid that was now dripping onto the tile floor.

  “I believe so, yes.”

  She nodded to the man, who took out a plastic bag, dropped the entire plastic tumbler into it, and sealed it up.

  “And you’re the mother, correct?” she asked as we started back down the hallway.

  I opened my mouth to answer, then stopped myself. If I said no, I feared they wouldn’t be able to take Jeremy to the hospital until they found an actual relative who would agree to it.

  “Jeremy?” I heard Mrs. Brigham call from behind the same door as we went back down the hallway. “Edward, where is Jeremy?”

  “I don’t need to ride in the ambulance,” I assured them as they wheeled Jeremy out the front door. “I’ll drive down separately.”

  When Jeremy had been safely taken out on the gurney, I went back and knocked softly on the door of what I inferred was Mrs. Brigham’s room.

  Edward opened it.

  “Bernardine’s not well,” he said quietly.

  Over his shoulder, I saw Mrs. Brigham. She was in bed, lying back on her pillow and looking frail.

  “Jeremy was sick,” I whispered to the old man. “I called 9-1-1. Do you have a cleaning service?”

  “What’s going on?” Mrs. Brigham called from her bed. “Edward, tell me what’s going on.”

  I went over and sat in the chair next to the bed. The room smelled of disinfectant and ripe human, but the French doors to an enclosed herb garden were open. Piney smells of rosemary wafted in on a warm breeze.

  “Jeremy fainted, Mrs. Brigham. He’s ill.” I hoped I hadn’t just saved the life of her would-be murderer. But I couldn’t stand by and do nothing. I guess what I’m saying is if you want to send someone back in time to kill baby Hitler, don’t pick me.

  “How is Jeremy? Please tell him to come in and see me. Can you do that for me, Miss Barda?”

  I looked to where Edward had been standing, but he was gone.

  “He’s not here, Mrs. Brigham. The paramedics took him to the hospital.”

  Her eyes widened with fear.

  “I have to see him,” she pleaded. “Please, go get Edward. Ah, there he is. Edward, help me get dressed. I’m going to see Jeremy.”

  “Bernardine, you can’t go there. Your immune system’s weak, and the hospital is full of sick people.”

  “I know what a hospital is, Edward,” she snapped. “I’ll wear my gloves and mask.”

  “Okay,” I said awkwardly as I backed out the door. “I, uh, hope everyone feels better soon.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  I happened to have a prenatal appointment scheduled, so I drove up to the Mahina Medical Center and checked in early. Then I went down to the first floor where the phone reception was decent and called Victor Santiago to let him know what had happened to Jeremy. I could tell it was a struggle for him not to blame me.

  “What other choice did I have?” I defended myself. “The paramedics thought he was bad enough to take him to the ER.”

  “No one’s blaming you, Professor Barda,” he said in a blaming tone. “It’s simply unfortunate. I’ll get in touch with Mrs. Brigham. Please wait to hear from me before you do anything else.”

  “Do you happen to know whether Mrs. Brigham has changed her will?” I asked.

  “You know I can’t discuss that with you, Professor Barda.”

  If Jeremy knew (or at least believed) he’d already been cut out of the will, maybe he wouldn’t be in such a rush to have Bernardine Brigham kick the bucket. Maybe someone should tell him.

  On a whim, I went over to the main information desk to ask after Jeremy Bingham.

  Unlike the paramedic, the receptionist did not assume I was Jeremy’s mother. She informed me that due to patient privacy laws, she couldn’t tell me the condition of the patient, where he was, or even whether he was there at all.

  I went back up to the second floor to wait for my prenatal appointment, took a seat in the little waiting room, and pulled a book out of my bag.

  A flash of purple in my peripheral vision made me glance at the doorway. I stood up and stepped out into the hallway. Sure enough, there was Mrs. Brigham, dressed in flowing purple, slowly making her way down the hallway toward the Intensive Care Unit.

  I followed her as quietly as I could as she tottered along, steadying herself on her cane. She was so focused that I didn’t have to work very hard to be invisible to her. When she approached the nurses’ station of the Intensive Care Unit, I walked in right after her and lurked behind her, shamelessly eavesdropping.

  “Your son’s in with the doctor right now,” the receptionist told her. “It’ll just be a moment. He’s in room five.”

  There was no way for me to talk to Jeremy with Bernardine right there, so I went back to the prenatal unit to wait for my appointment.

  As I walked out to my car afterward, I thought about Mrs. Brigham. Why wasn’t she wearing a mask and gloves, as she’d told Edward she would? She really did look sick, and I couldn’t imagine her immune system was in any shape to fend off the kinds of nasty bugs that lived in hospitals.

  I knew I shouldn’t stick my nose into these people’s business any deeper than I already had. But Russian Road was just down the hill from the hospital. If Edward was still at home, he could bring Bernardine the mask and gloves that she’d forgotten.

  When Edward opened the door I said,

  “I just saw Mrs. Brigham up at the hospital.”

  He nodded sadly.

  “I told her not to go, but she called a cab. Come in. Would you like a beer?”

  “No thank you.”

  “Scotch?”

  “That’s very kind, but maybe just water.”

  The table and floor in the sunroom had been scrubbed down and smelled faintly of bleach.

  “Mrs. Brigham forgot her mask and gloves,” I said. “She’s in the ICU now. I can drive them up for her if you like. She must really care for Jeremy to take that risk to see him.”

  “Please have a seat, Professor Barda. Bernardine took a taxicab up there. Against my advice.”

  Edward had gotten me a can of Coke. I took a sip and felt the sugar and caffeine perk me up immediately.

  “I’ve always done my best to protect Bernardine,” he said. “I still think of her as a baby. I was in college by the time she was born.”

  “Bernardine is your sister?”

  “Yes. She’s had some ups and downs. A very successful career, of course, and a wonderful marriage, for as long as it lasted. It was very hard on her when she lost her husband and then found out about Jeremy. Do you know the story?”

  I shook my head.

  “Jeremy is not Bernardine’s son. Her husband was running around with a woman from a Honolulu hostess bar, and Jeremy was the result.”

  I nodded, trying to look mildly surprised.

  “Bernardine was terribly distressed about it, of course. And what made it worse was she and Alexander had their own son. Alexander Jr. was born just a few months earlier than Jeremy.

  “Oh, dear. How awful.” I couldn’t imagine Donnie running around on me while I was recovering from childbirth and nursing a sickly infant.

  But if he did, I could easily imagine wanting to murder him.

  “Bernardine didn’t know about Jeremy until her husband passed away. The boy was mentioned in his will.”

  “What happened to his mother?”

  “I don’t know. I believe Alexander’s parents either paid her off, got her deported, or both. So the boy had nowhere else to go. And then
not long after that, a swimming accident claimed Alexander Junior. I was staying with them at the time. After the accident, I simply stayed on.”

  He blinked back tears, stood up, and left the room.

  I wasn’t sure what to do, so I stayed put. Edward returned with a highball glass filled to the top with amber liquid.

  “I don’t know how Bernardine could have known what was in Cyrus’s will,” he said, mystifyingly.

  “Cyrus?”

  “Her husband’s older brother.”

  “Oh?”

  “I was here when she got the call. Alexander and his brother were driving back from a day out fishing. They went over the side into a gulch. I was going to go with them, you know. But I had woken up that morning with a bit of a cold, and I told them to go ahead without me…”

  Edward took a gulp of whatever was in his glass—whiskey, by the smell of it—and stared at a point in the distance.

  “Even if they had been at the most advanced medical facility in the world, I don’t believe there was anything that could have been done,” he said, finally. “Bernardine asked whether we could spend some moments with them alone, and they obliged us. This was down at the Kuewa Clinic, now. Well, I went out on the lanai to give Bernardine some privacy, you understand. So she could say good-bye to her husband. I happened to turn around, and…”

  Edward drained the glass.

  “She had her hand on Alexander’s face. At first I thought she was touching his cheek, or some such thing. But from where I stood, I could swear she held her hand over his nose and mouth.”

  I stared at him.

  “You know when the person doesn’t breathe for a while, the machine makes the high pitched sound, and people come running in. Well, as soon as that happened, Bernardine pulled her hand away. What do you think, Professor Barda? Do you think my sister killed her husband?”

  “I…why would she want to do that?”

  “Well, now, I’m not a lawyer, but as I understand it, Alexander’s passing first was very advantageous to Bernardine. Cyrus had stipulated that if Alexander predeceased him, Alexander’s widow would inherit most of his estate, which included this house. The only surprise was when Alexander’s will was read. That’s when Bernardine found out about Jeremy.”