Shadows on the Ivy

by Lea Wait

  “So it seems,” said Maggie. “It’s been an unusual week.” This was not the time to get into a deep discussion with Claudia about scheduling. “Let me know if there’s a problem at Max’s end.”

  A few minutes later Claudia stuck her head into Maggie’s office. “It’s okay. Jennifer said he’s alone. But he’s not in a good mood.”

  Maggie nodded. Who was in a good mood these days? “If anyone else calls me and needs to know where I am, tell them I’ve gone to his office.”

  Claudia nodded. “I usually leave about now. Should I stick around?”

  “Could you stay a little later? Just in case.”

  “Just in case what?” Claudia asked eagerly. “What’s going on, Professor Summer? I took those messages. I know something is happening. Can I help?”

  “You can help by staying an extra half hour and answering my phone. Right now that could be a big help.”

  Claudia’s face fell. “You’re sure you don’t want me to do anything else?”

  Maggie headed for the hallway outside the American Studies offices. “I don’t think so.”

  Claudia hesitated. “Like maybe I could loan you my gun. It would fit in your pocketbook.”

  Maggie stopped abruptly and turned around. “What did you say?”

  “It’s all right. Really it is. It’s legal. I have a license.” Claudia reached into the large gray leather pocketbook Maggie had assumed was full of chocolates and makeup and pulled out a small silver handgun. “It’s loaded and all set to go. With these strange things happening on campus, a woman should be prepared to defend herself. I’ve had it with me all week. Normally I leave it at home.”

  “Claudia! You shouldn’t have a gun on campus!”

  “No. But there are bad people around, and I didn’t want to be a victim like Sarah and Tiffany. No one knew I had it. Except you, now.” Claudia gestured with the gun to indicate the whole area. “No one else is here. They’ve all left for the day. And I know you’re in the middle of doing something dangerous. I can tell.” Claudia looked at her closely. “You are, aren’t you, Professor Summer?”

  Maggie shook her head and couldn’t help grinning. “I am, indeed, Claudia. But you shouldn’t have that gun with you on campus under any circumstances, even if it is licensed.”

  “I know. Take it. It’s loaded. Just in case.” Claudia winked at her. “Just make sure you bring it back to me. And only shoot the bad guys, okay?” She handed the gun to Maggie.

  Maggie hesitated. She hated guns. And she knew only a little about them. When she was thirteen, her father had taken her deer hunting. She had refused to shoot the rifle he’d trained her to shoot and had cried when he’d shot a doe. He’d been disgusted with her and never took her hunting with him again. She’d been relieved he hadn’t asked.

  The rifle he’d taught her to use was very different from the small handgun Claudia was handing her.

  She hesitated and then took the cold weapon. “I’m not going to use this, Claudia.”

  “It’s only for protection,” Claudia said. “Or to scare someone. A woman’s got to have protection sometimes. That’s what my mother always told me.”

  Maggie wondered what other words of wisdom Claudia’s mother had taught her. Against her better judgment, Maggie slipped the gun into her purse. Claudia was right. It slipped easily into the side pocket.

  “I’ll be right here when you get back,” said Claudia happily. “Go get ’em, Maggie!”

  Chapter 40

  Say When! Lithograph from portfolio by James Montgomery Flagg (1877–1960), American illustrator known for his satirical portraits. His best-known illustration was the well-known “I want YOU!” World War I Uncle Sam recruiting poster. This lithograph shows a man and a woman facing each other across a low table. She is squirting seltzer into his glass; most of it is splashing onto the ground as their attention is on each other, not on the glass. Printed by Leslie-Judge Company, c. 1912. 10.5 x 13.5 inches. Price: $75.

  Max was sitting at his desk when Maggie knocked on his open door. Jennifer must have left for the day.

  “I thought our conversation was over, Maggie.” His voice was strong, and frighteningly calm, after his tirade earlier in the afternoon. His eyes were hard and dark. Even across the room she smelled the faint odor of cognac and cigarettes. A Somerset College mug was on his desk. “You’ve ruined the reputation of the college, ruined my future. You gave those sick photographs to the police. It’s just a matter of time before the broadcast networks get them. ‘Philanthropist Uses Somerset College to Find Coeds for Kinky Sex.’ Or maybe ‘Scholarships for Sex’? The National Enquirer is going to love it! You’re taking us all down, Maggie. There will be no jobs here, and no students, because you personally have ensured that this college is going to close.”

  “Is that why you did it, Max?” Maggie stood opposite him at his desk.

  “Why I did what?”

  “Why you killed Tiffany Douglass. To keep her from telling the media about her relationship with Oliver Whitcomb?”

  He stared at her with eyes that seemed suddenly unfocused. His words were strong, but slurred. “Maggie Summer, you’re not only destructive, you’re crazy! I didn’t even know about their relationship until you told me this afternoon.” He picked up the mug and took a deep drink. Coffee, or cognac?

  “Yes, you did. Tiffany told you, didn’t she? She may have tried to blackmail Oliver Whitcomb with those pictures, but that didn’t work. He probably laughed at her.”

  “That’s exactly what I did.” Oliver’s voice came from the doorway. Maggie turned. Dorothy and Oliver were both there. So was Paul Turk. And in front of them were Detectives Luciani and Newton. Just as she had hoped and planned. They were all here. “I told her I wouldn’t pay for pictures of me, and neither would my wife.”

  “I didn’t need to see photographs,” said Dorothy. “I knew what Oliver was doing.”

  “Don’t try to get out of this, Dorothy!” The emotions behind Max’s words were stronger than his voice. “You and Oliver think you’re so high-and-mighty and sophisticated that such things don’t mean anything to you, but pictures like that could mean something to the Board of Trustees. And to the media. How do you think it would look for Somerset College if its biggest donor turned out to be a pervert? Sleeping with a student in the college he supported? Tying her up and doing other things I don’t think you would like to know, Dorothy! What you demented people thought was your own private sick business was going to take down the whole college. And every one of us with it!”

  Oliver shrugged. “I assure you I wasn’t going to pay Tiffany blackmail money.”

  “So then she came to you, didn’t she, Max?” Maggie said.

  “You have no proof of that! And none of you has any right to be in my private office. I want you all out of here. Now!”

  “She must have come to you. Last week, or last weekend. Because you knew before the Whitcombs’ party Sunday afternoon.”

  Max took another drink. “Maggie, you’ve absolutely no proof of what you’re fantasizing about.” His face was usually ruddy; now it was pale.

  “Tiffany was poisoned with potassium permanganate, Max. That’s how I knew.”

  “I’m here because the detectives brought me,” Paul put in. “But I’m confused. What is potassium permanganate? Why would that mean Max killed Tiffany?”

  “Exactly!” said Max. “Half the homes or garages in Somerset County probably have supplies of potassium permanganate! I’ll bet your home does, Maggie. In fact, I’m sure it does.”

  “Not unless you were able to put some there when you tried to break in last night. A year ago it was in my garage, though. For the same reason you have it, Max. You and Michael both used it in your garden ponds. It kills parasites on goldfish. I heard you discussing its use many times. You talked about having to be careful, because it was so poisonous; using too much would kill the fish as well as the parasites. I remembered when I saw the goldfish print outside your office. The pr
int Michael and I gave you.”

  “So? There’s no law against protecting goldfish!”

  “But there are laws about mixing the poison with red wine and serving it to a human being. It’s lethal to humans, as you well know, Max. That’s why after Michael died I got rid of what was left in my house. The only reason someone would have it is if they had goldfish in outdoor ponds. Like you do, Max. Oliver and Dorothy don’t keep fish.”

  Max was silent. Detective Luciani spoke up. “We had a search warrant issued for your home this afternoon, President Hagfield. We found the potassium permanganate, right where Professor Summer said it would be. Next to the goldfish food in your garage.”

  Max’s voice contorted slightly. “None of you were thinking about Somerset College. It was up to me to make sure the college didn’t go under. And I did. I risked everything! And then that dumb broad—that Sarah—drank the stuff I’d meant for Tiffany!” Max burst out. “She shouldn’t have drunk the Bloody Mary mix. If Tiffany had drunk it, the way she usually did when she was with me—you weren’t her one and only, Oliver!—then this whole situation wouldn’t have gotten out of hand. It’s all Sarah’s fault. One overwrought young woman getting ill doesn’t make headlines. But two? That’s what raised questions.”

  Max had been at the Whitcombs’ bar before Sarah had poured her drink. Max was the one who’d poisoned the pitcher of spiced tomato juice.

  “How did you do it, Max?” asked Maggie. “Sarah was poisoned with nicotine.”

  “You’re not as smart as you think you are, for a professor, Maggie,” said Max as he walked around the front of the desk, holding on to the edge. “Nicotine is very potent. I just took the tobacco left in a dozen cigarettes I’d smoked halfway, soaked it in water for a couple of days, and strained it. All it took was a pill-bottleful to add to the pitcher of tomato juice. Oliver makes his Bloody Marys so strong I didn’t think anyone would notice. I thought using two different poisons would confuse the police.”

  “It was you, then!” Dorothy’s eyes glittered. “I was still hoping it had been some sort of accident. Some coincidence. But it was you! You self-centered idiot! You may have killed my daughter!”

  For a moment the room was silent.

  “Your daughter?” Oliver blurted. Everyone turned from Max to Dorothy. Anger and grief had just negated twenty-three years of secrecy.

  “Damn it, yes! Sarah was—is—my daughter! I had to give her up for adoption years ago, but I was trying to make it up to her now. I was trying to ensure a safe future for her, and for Aura. And you”—Dorothy turned and walked toward Max, her polished nails pointing at him—“you selfish, idiotic little man, you ruined everything!”

  She suddenly reached out and grabbed the pocketbook hanging on Maggie’s shoulder.

  “Stop!” Maggie yelled, and jerked her arm away. But Dorothy knew just what she was doing. She reached down into the side pocket where the gun was hidden. Luciani and Newton both rushed her, but before they could get there, the gun had gone off. The glass shattered in the print of Windsor Castle. Max’s body slumped to the floor.

  Dorothy dropped the gun, and Newton and Luciani each grabbed one of her arms. Maggie ran to Max and bent over him.

  “No one can hurt me, Dorothy. It’s already over,” he murmured.

  “He’s still alive,” said Maggie, “but I think he’s poisoned himself. He was a smoker, but tonight he smells like Sarah did.”

  Behind them, they heard someone running down the hall. Luciani turned and pulled his gun as they all faced the doorway.

  Claudia stood there, breathing deeply, taking in the whole scene. “Dr. Stevens just called, Professor Summer. Sarah Anderson’s come out of her coma.”

  Chapter 41

  Sarah. Full-length, hand-colored lithograph of a beautiful dark-haired woman wearing an off-the-shoulder, red dress who is leaning on a white marble table. She wears one pink rose in her hair, which she has curled in ringlets, and one at her bust. A vase of pink roses is in the background. One of the N. Currier “lady prints,” labeled #50; c. 1850. In Victorian frame. 11.10 x 8.1 inches. Price: $250.

  “So how did Dorothy know about the gun?” asked Gussie. It was nearly two thirty in the morning, but neither she nor Jim were ready for sleep. “The Broadway play we saw tonight wasn’t a fraction as exciting as your week, Maggie. I want to hear all the details!” Gussie sliced another piece of the herbed cheddar Maggie had put on a plate for their late-night snack in the kitchen.

  Maggie poured Jim a cup of cocoa. “I’m just so glad you’re both here,” said Maggie. “Coming back to an empty house would have been too, too hard tonight.” Winslow stood on his hind legs and stretched toward the table. They had liverwurst and ham up there as well as cheese. His imploring look worked as well as he knew it would. Maggie tore off a small piece of ham and gave it to him. “Not totally alone, of course. Sorry, Winslow.”

  Jim laughed. “He isn’t quite the same as a person, but he’s trying.”

  “He does his best,” agreed Maggie. “And to answer your question—Dorothy had called my office from her cell phone, just after I’d left for Max’s office. She and Oliver were outside the administration building, waiting for five o’clock, which is when we’d all agreed to meet. She wanted to make sure I’d left at the time we’d agreed on, and she told Claudia she was worried about me. Claudia told her not to be; she’d given me her gun. She was even kind enough to tell Dorothy exactly where I’d put it. Luckily for Max, Dorothy knew nothing about guns. She hit Windsor Castle instead of him.”

  “And how is Max?”

  “He must have been sipping the nicotine-laced cognac before we got there; he drank more than Sarah had. Of course, he would need to: he was a smoker, and it would have taken a lot more nicotine to kill him. The police found the solution of tobacco he’d made in his private bathroom. The last time the police called, they didn’t know if he was going to make it. If he does, he’ll stand trial.”

  “And Sarah?”

  “She’s going to need a lot of therapy and time, but Dr. Stevens says chances are she’ll be all right in a few months. Oliver’s already told Dr. Stevens he’ll cover her medical bills. And he says Sarah and Aura can live with him and Dorothy after Sarah’s released from the hospital. If they want to.”

  “So Oliver’s accepted that Dorothy is Sarah’s mother.”

  Maggie nodded. “It all happened so quickly that the future is hard to predict. But at least he feels guilty enough about the whole situation to try to make it up to Sarah—and Dorothy—for everything that’s happened.”

  Gussie nodded. “As he should. He didn’t kill anyone, but if it hadn’t been for his behavior, none of that would have happened.”

  “Possibly,” said Maggie. “Tiffany was blackmailing Max, too, so it’s hard to tell. But certainly when Sarah is well enough to understand what’s happening, she’s going to have a major surprise: her mother has reclaimed her.”

  “So there’s a happy ending after all,” said Gussie.

  “Except for Tiffany, of course. And her family. But at least no one else is going to be poisoned. Although I am afraid Max’s nightmares about Somerset College’s reputation may come true. The press is not going to be kind about this whole sordid situation.”

  “I guess you’d better keep your other job, then,” said Gussie.

  “My van is packed; I’m ready to set up at the antique show Friday afternoon,” said Maggie. “Although the antique-print business is going to seem very calm after this week on campus.”

  Chapter 42

  The End. Lithograph from Maxfield Parrish (1870–1966), painting for the book The Knave of Hearts by Louise Saunders, 1925. Illustration of courtly gentleman in red robes bowing toward the audience against a background of Parrish blue sky, within a border designed to look like a classical sculpture. It was the closing lithograph in the book. 10.5 x 12.5 inches. Price: $250.

  It was almost dawn. Jim and Gussie had gone to bed, and Maggie had soaked in a hot tu
b scented with lavender oil long enough for her adrenaline to slow down and the skin on her feet to feel slightly puckered. The president of the Board of Trustees had called: Somerset College was going to be closed both today and tomorrow.

  Two days off! The reasons were awful, but she planned to take full advantage of the extra time. She planned to sleep in and then perhaps be decadent and go shopping with Gussie and Jim, since they couldn’t set up their booths until Friday afternoon.

  The long bath had helped Maggie relax. She was exhausted, but now she was ready to sleep. She pulled on a clean flannel nightgown and walked to the kitchen to make sure Winslow had enough water for the night. With all the excitement she hadn’t checked earlier.

  Winslow followed her, weaving in and around her footsteps. His fur felt soft and warm against her ankles. November was the beginning of winter, not the end of fall.

  The rap at the kitchen door was sudden and loud. Maggie’s first impulse was to turn off the kitchen light and flee upstairs. She couldn’t cope with anything more tonight. This morning, she corrected herself. The sky was a light gray now, tinged slightly with streaks of pink.

  The police? By now they should have all the information they needed.

  She sighed, picked up Winslow, and turned on the outside light over the back stairs. She looked through the window and relief flooded her chest. Quickly she unlocked the door. Will’s secure arms folded around her.

  Minutes later they sat at the kitchen table waiting for the kettle to boil. “Why did you come? You have a show to do.”

  “I have a radio in the van. What was happening at Somerset College made the national news. I knew it involved students at a single-parent dorm. I knew you were the adviser at Whitcomb House, and I know you don’t ask for help. So when you didn’t say anything about the situation in your e-mails, I knew you had to be in the middle of the whole mess. So I came.”