Field of Graves

by J. T. Ellison

  Baldwin was starting to get the picture. “Susan, think carefully. Was she like that with anyone else?”

  “Well, she was like that with a lot of people. I guess I’d like to think that she was special friends with me alone, but she was, you know, kinda intense with a lot of people.”

  “Was she intense with Shelby Kincaid or Jordan Blake?”

  “No, not Shelby. That girl was a little mouse. But she did hang out with Jordan, partied with her some. They went their own way after a while. Jordan got picked up by Tri-Delt, and Jill just wasn’t into the sorority scene. Me neither.”

  Taylor gave the girl’s hand a quick squeeze. “Susan, you’ve been a huge help. Thank you so much for your time and for being so honest with us.” They stood to leave. Susan looked back.

  “Will you let me know if you find Jill? I just want to make sure she’s okay, you know?”

  Baldwin gave her a long look. “We’ll do our best.”

  She smiled sadly and hoisted her backpack on her shoulder, half waved good-bye, and wandered off toward the food court.

  Taylor and Baldwin sat back down.

  Taylor spoke first. “What do you think?”

  Baldwin was running his hands through his hair. “I don’t know. There’s definitely a link with all the girls through this Gabriel Lucas character. Mary Margaret audited the same classics class Susan was talking about. But Lucas isn’t on our list, right?”

  Taylor was already dialing Fitz’s cell. He picked up quickly.

  “Hey, it’s me. I need you to check a name for me. Gabriel Lucas.” She was quiet for a moment, listening. “Okay. Find him. We’ll check it out.”

  She hung up and pulled out a cigarette. Baldwin gave her a look that she waved off. She lit it and stared off into space, coughing a little.

  Baldwin was getting impatient. “Well?”

  “Gabriel Lucas wasn’t on their list because he’s taking a sabbatical this semester. He’s taken some time off to write a book of his experiences with the Greco-Roman culture.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  Taylor took another drag, then squashed the butt under her shoe. She raised an eyebrow at him.

  “An expertise in Greco-Roman culture fits our profile about a person intimately familiar with the ancient customs,” he said.

  “It sure does. The way Susan talked about him, and the connection he had with Jill...we need to find this guy and have a nice long talk with him. Fitz is tracking him down. Also, Sam called in to tell us there was aconite in the teacups found at the church. Definitely the same killer, Baldwin.”

  Baldwin’s mind was spinning. Shelby, date-raped. Jordan, pregnant with another man’s child. Jill, at least seven months gone and having a secret affair. So where did Mary Margaret, the priest, and Tammy/Mona Lisa fit into all of this? He didn’t know the answer, only knew they had to find Jill.

  66

  Their interviews with Professor Lear and Professor James yielded nothing. Professor Lear was physically incapable of committing the crimes. A paraplegic since birth, his wheelchair would have made it difficult to manage the stairs at the Parthenon, at the very least. Though he did remember all of the students, he couldn’t say he knew anything about them outside of his classes.

  Their interview with Professor James hadn’t gone any better. Though young and physically fit, he was openly gay. Much to Taylor’s amusement, he had flirted his way through the entire interview, going so far as to ask Baldwin for his phone number, which Baldwin genially declined.

  They asked both men about Gabriel Lucas. Lear had nothing but kind words for the man. James, on the other hand, made his dislike clear, but couldn’t give any solid reasons for it. Taylor couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been turned down and was harboring a grudge.

  Taylor and Baldwin sat on the grass under a huge oak tree and talked it through. Either man could have hired a killer, but that scenario didn’t make sense. Baldwin was sure their suspect was on a personal quest; the murders were too intricately woven, too symbolic to have been committed on contract. Between Professor Lear’s infirmities and Professor James’s sexual orientation, neither man fit what Baldwin was looking for in their suspects.

  Taylor’s cell rang. It was Fitz, eager to share their latest discovery.

  “Taylor, we just ran back through Mary Margaret’s records. Two of the classes she audited were taught by...ready for it? One Professor Gabriel Lucas.”

  Her heart was pounding. “Excellent. This has to be our guy. But where the hell is he?”

  “I’m looking. Got one more little morsel for you. Our priest, Father Xavier? The rector at St. Catherine’s called. Didn’t know if it would help the investigation at all, but since it was related to Vanderbilt, he thought we should know that Father X conducted the community breakfast there last month.”

  “There’s our last link. We’re on it. Thanks, Fitz!”

  She gave Baldwin a huge smile, her teeth flashing in the sunlight. “Check this out...”

  * * *

  Taylor and Baldwin barged into the office of Vanderbilt’s dean of the College of Arts and Sciences. His secretary hedged when they walked in the door, telling them that the dean was out of the office on business, but she didn’t know exactly where he was. She was trying to talk them into an appointment much later in the afternoon when the dean walked through the door. He had two men with him, both dressed elegantly and wearing grimaces on their faces. Taylor could tell they were simply being polite while he jovially tried to amuse them. He stopped short when he saw Taylor and Baldwin.

  Taylor stuck out her hand. “Dean Royce? Lieutenant Taylor Jackson and Dr. John Baldwin. We need to speak to you about—”

  He cut her off. “Oh yes, my dear, I know all about it. If you would give me a minute here.” He addressed his secretary. “Janet, please see Ms. Jackson and Mr. Baldwin into my office and get them something to drink. I won’t be a moment.”

  He turned and put his arms around the shoulders of his reluctant companions. “Gentlemen, I can’t tell you how much we appreciate all you’ve done for Vanderbilt. I’ll be in touch as soon as I can. If there’s...”

  Taylor lost the conversation as she entered the dean’s office.

  He came through the door a moment later, mopping his brow with a handkerchief. Taylor had taken an instant dislike to the man. He was all smiles and handshakes. He politely offered to pour the tea, prattling about the overwhelming support the college was receiving from their donors, segueing into his distress over the fate of his students. But Taylor read the look in his eyes as he got himself settled behind his desk. He was not happy to see them. Homicide detectives and FBI agents combing his campus for murder suspects was not good publicity for the school.

  Taylor started fidgeting in her chair, trying to find a good place to interrupt. Baldwin wasn’t as polite.

  “Dean Royce, please. We need to speak with you about one of your professors. What can you tell us about Gabriel Lucas?”

  “Gabriel? Great man. Entirely devoted to the school. Came to us several years ago from New Mexico, I believe. He’d finished his doctorate in ancient and modern Hellenistic and Greco-Roman cultures. Had a stunning dissertation on Plato, argued that Plato’s philosophy was the first true divine revelation. Made an excellent case for Hellenistic philosophy as the basis for the Bible. Absolutely amazing work. I read all the dissertations of our professors personally, you know,” he puffed. “Something of a hobby for me, that’s why I remember it so well. We grabbed him up as soon as we talked with him. Took him after the first interview. Brilliant man, Gabriel, simply brilliant. Why, he was—”

  Baldwin cut him off again. “We understand he’s taking a sabbatical this semester?”

  The dean sat back in his chair for a moment. “Certainly you don’t think he had anything to do with these mu
rders? That’s preposterous. Gabriel is a gentle soul. And I know how much he loves his students.”

  Taylor raised an eyebrow at him. “Any students that he loved in particular?”

  Royce started sputtering. “Ms. Jackson...”

  “You can call me Lieutenant, Dean Royce.”

  He flushed and took a deep breath. “Lieutenant. Vanderbilt University holds its students and faculty to the highest standards of conduct. Dating a student here isn’t simply frowned upon, it is grounds for dismissal. So to answer your little insinuation, no. Gabriel was not involved with any of his students. It simply wouldn’t be allowed.”

  Baldwin smiled. “You’ve never seen anyone break the rules, Dean? I mean, really, in this day and age? A bright young professor, whom we’ve heard was quite handsome, wouldn’t have any social contact with any of his female students?”

  “No, Mr. Baldwin, he wouldn’t. Especially not in the past months.”

  “Oh? Why’s that?”

  “Because Gabriel is ill. Very ill. He’s taken the semester to...recuperate.”

  67

  Taylor stood and went to his window. “Dean Royce, we talked with two of your professors, Edward Lear and Barry James, from the classics department. They weren’t aware Professor Lucas had any physical problems. They were under the impression that he was taking a sabbatical to work on a book.”

  “No, they wouldn’t know the whole story. Gabriel and I decided to keep it from as many people as we could. It was such a shattering blow to him, and he wanted time to sort things out. Such a shame. Incredibly bright man. Though he was starting to act a little erratic. He’d had a revelation, he said. Kept talking about the revelation that was changing his life. Wouldn’t tell me what it was, though. I told him to write it down. You know how it is, publish or perish,” he chortled. “That’s why we decided it was best for him to simply take a sabbatical. Didn’t want the students to see him that way, see him acting different, if you know what I mean.”

  Baldwin was getting a little fed up by the dean’s dance. “Dean, what exactly is the nature of Professor Lucas’s illness?”

  “Really, officers, you can’t think that Gabriel is involved in these crimes in any way.” He started to get out of his chair, but Taylor snapped at him.

  “Sit down. Of course we can. We know that Jill Gates, Jordan Blake, and Shelby Kincaid all took his classes. We know that Mary Margaret de Rossi audited two of his classes. That’s four of our victims that Professor Lucas was at the very least familiar with. That’s a lot for us to go on right there. So I suggest you start cooperating before I haul your ass into the station and charge you with obstruction of justice. Now, what is wrong with Lucas?”

  “Fine. He has cancer. Brain cancer. A tumor of some sort. He took the semester off to have it treated. Are you happy now? I’ve broken the confidence of a man who begged me to make sure no one at the school found out about his condition. Thank you for forcing me to compromise my morals. I’ve told you all I can. Now, I think you should leave.”

  Taylor ignored him. “Have you spoken with him lately?”

  The dean was red in the face and looked close to blowing a gasket. “No, I haven’t spoken with him in about a month. He came to the monthly community breakfast. He told me he would be out of touch for a while, and was talking about having a new experience. I just assumed it was a medical advancement that he couldn’t receive here in town and he was seeking treatment elsewhere. We only spoke for a few minutes. The speaker started moments after we greeted each other, and after the presentation he was gone.”

  “Would that speaker have been Father Francis Xavier from St. Catherine’s Church?”

  The dean’s face crumpled. He put his face in his hands, and all the defensiveness left his body. “Oh my God. It can’t be. He couldn’t have done any of this. It has to be a coincidence.”

  Baldwin spoke quietly. “There are no coincidences, Dean Royce. We need to speak with Professor Lucas. Can you get us his address and phone number?”

  “Janet!” he bellowed. The diminutive woman came scurrying into the office. “Janet, I need you to give the detectives Professor Lucas’s address.”

  Janet was obviously a little afraid of her boss and squeaked her answer like a mouse. “I’m sure I have it around here somewhere. I think he moved recently. I’ll probably have to call down to records, and Melinda is out sick today, so there’s only a student working the desk. It may take a little while.”

  “Ma’am, go on down to records yourself and pull the address for me.” Taylor scribbled her number on the back of a card and handed it to her. “The minute you have it, I want you to call me on my cell phone. Do you understand?”

  The woman nodded and started to bustle away. Taylor grabbed her arm. “Hold on a second. Do you have any pictures of Professor Lucas?”

  “Well, of course, dear. We have the annuals right here.” She motioned to the bookshelf behind her boss. Taylor went to the bookshelf and pulled the most recent annual. She looked in the back for Lucas’s name, found he was pictured on several pages. She started flipping through until she found one of him alone.

  Taylor had to admit he was a handsome man. Square jaw, heavy silver hair, green eyes, full mouth, three days of stubble. A rebel-without-a-cause attitude spilling from his smile. She could see why some of the girls would want to take his classes.

  Baldwin turned back to the dean. “Mr. Royce, do you happen to know which doctor was treating the professor?”

  The dean had gathered himself and was a little more willing to cooperate.

  “Surely, surely. A doctor named Hoyt, I believe. Steven Hoyt, over at Vanderbilt University Medical Center. Great man, loves the college. Did his undergrad here, I believe. Before my time, though.”

  She stood and stuck out her hand. “Thank you so much for your time. Can I take this with me?” She pointed to the annual.

  “Of course, of course, anything I can do to help, just give me a call. Though I’m sure you’ll find our poor professor has had nothing to do with all this tragedy. At Vanderbilt... I’m sure you understand that we cannot be held responsible for any actions any of our students or faculty take outside of campus. We’re terribly upset by these deaths and want to cooperate however we can.” Taylor rolled her eyes at his spin as he saw them to the door, then shut it behind them.

  Taylor and Baldwin made their way back to the car. Taylor lit a cigarette, a grimace on her face.

  “Smarmy old dope. He gave me the creeps.”

  Baldwin started laughing. “Gave you the creeps, huh? He wasn’t the friendliest person I’ve ever met.”

  “Ick. Didn’t you love his quick CYA? Always gotta cover your ass.” She picked up her phone and called in to the office. “Hey, it’s me. Is Lincoln there?” She waited a moment. “Linc, I need you to do your magic. Get a number and address on Gabriel Lucas...Right...Cool. Let me talk to Marcus...Hey, puppy, how ya holdin’ up?...Oh, you poor baby. Do me a favor. Get on the phone with a doctor named Steven Hoyt. He’ll be with the oncology unit at Vanderbilt. We need all the records he has regarding treatment of Gabriel Lucas. Brain cancer. See if he has anything we can use for DNA. Yeah, we have a live one. Thanks.” She hung up and lit another cigarette.

  “Lincoln will get the records a sight faster than Miss Mouse back there. Hopefully Marcus can find this Dr. Hoyt. Let’s get back over there and see what we can find out.” She realized she was walking alone. Baldwin was standing stock-still ten feet behind her.

  “Baldwin? What’s wrong?”

  He gave her a look, his eyes shining. “I think I know what’s going on.”

  68

  “Wake up, love. That’s right. Sit up a little now. You need to drink this.”

  The cool water slid down the back of her throat. Jill realized she was awake, and felt Gabriel’s arm around h
er shoulders. She tried to gulp. She was thirsty, so thirsty, and choked on the water. Sputtering, she opened her eyes.

  Gabriel was sitting next to her. She saw he had brought some food, and realized she was starving. She reached out for the tray, but he grabbed her hand gently and set it back in her lap.

  “No, my darling, let me.” He reached for the plate, broke off a piece of bread and gave it to her. She took it and started chewing.

  “Gabriel, what is going on?” she mumbled through the bread in her mouth.

  He just looked at her, got off the bed, and picked up a sheet of paper. Clearing his throat like an actor on the stage preparing for a great soliloquy, he began reading aloud. “‘A Call to Arms’ by Jill Gates.”

  Thoughts thrash and tumble

  like lions crashing

  through the cresting waves.

  No movement, no action

  lost in the abyss they call my mind,

  fleeing like sandpipers

  chasing ghost crabs

  on the milky white powder expanse.

  A calm breeze blows harmless

  smiles and stabbing glares

  wash away the tumult.

  And I lie

  in dreamless death,

  suspended in my cage.

  He finished with a flourish, bowing to his audience. Jill put the bread back on the plate, staring at him. He was absolutely crazy. She could see it in his eyes. And he looked even sicker than earlier, pale and drawn. She had a vague memory, some rumor about him leaving school because he was ill. But that couldn’t be. He was writing a book. He would have told her if there was something wrong.

  She tried to access the memory, but her mind was so muddled from all the drugs, and she just couldn’t grasp the memory. And now he was reading her old poetry?

  “What, you don’t remember this glorious ode? You wrote it for me. For me. When I read it, I knew. I knew you would be the one. You would never betray me, Jilly. I knew it in my heart that we would be together forever. ‘And I lie in dreamless death, suspended in my cage’? When I read this, I wept. I knew I had found you, the one who could help me become immortal. I knew you would bear a child, a son, who will live on forever. A son who will be strong enough to lead all of us into the afterlife, who will bless us and make us pure.”