Mistaken Identity Crisis: Death On The Cable Car (Braxton Campus Mysteries Book 4)

by James J Cudney

  “That's why it's best for you to work with Connor on anything related to this case. You guys are close, and he knows your brother. I'm already involved deeply in your wife's kidnapping.”

  “My family must look pretty messed up, huh?” I wasn't being cavalier in sharing my thoughts, but a dark cloud shrouded the Ayrwicks, and I needed all the help I could obtain to disperse it.

  “For the sake of our developing friendship, I won't respond to that question.” April looked past me as the coroner arrived at her office. She waved him in and indicated it was time for me to leave.

  I walked a few steps down the hall but kept my ears attuned to their conversation. The coroner said, “Based on the autopsy, I can confirm Quint Crawford's cause of death as strangulation. My analysis showed major damage. Bruising to his larynx and windpipe with a shattered hyoid bone, and petechiae, also known as blood spots, in his eyes. No DNA obtained from the killer, as far as I can tell right now. I have a few more tests to run later today.”

  April grunted. “Can you tell me anything about his killer to help the case?”

  “Given the size of the individual marks on the victim's neck, the killer had medium-sized hands. Not too small, not too big. Based on past experience and research, males most often choose strangulation as a murder method. You should look for a man with average-sized hands.”

  I heard footsteps shuffling in April's office before she said, “You're being presumptuous about the gender. We've had our fair share of unusual female killers around here lately. Any fingerprints?”

  I recently had a conversation with Connor about forensics being able to trace the killer's identity by picking up impressions on the victim's skin. Oils left behind had allowed for the unique qualities of a person's fingerprints to be more easily obtained. Had we gotten lucky this time?

  “No fingerprints. My guess is the killer wore gloves or some sort of protection on his hands. However, let me tell you about the order of events the night Quint Crawford was murdered. A few things might surprise you. At roughly midnight, he was—” the coroner said as the door slammed shut.

  Chapter 7

  Later that Thursday morning, after working out at the Grey Sports Complex and drafting an article for a mystery journal about Alfred Hitchcock's early career, I texted Connor to find out when he'd return from San Francisco. I assumed he was still in the Pacific Time Zone, but his lack of a response meant he was either in flight or busily attending to the case. I desperately wanted to find out what else the coroner had shared with April, and I was certain Connor might be slightly more open to telling me. My brother and I had similar-sized hands, and they were unquestionably larger than average. If what the coroner had told the sheriff was accurate, Gabriel couldn't have been responsible for strangling Quint Crawford.

  I strolled across North Campus and headed toward Memorial Library, hoping Maggie might know Connor's current location. During summer sessions, Braxton always held a mini four-week May-June term where students spent a majority of their day focused on one specialized class. From late June through early August, each department also offered two regular classes for those students continuing their studies in between terms who would work twice as hard in half the normal amount of time. It provided an option for transfer students, or those who might've failed a previous course, to catch up before the beginning of the next semester. Locals often used the summers to squeeze in extra classes to graduate sooner than the normal four years.

  As I approached the last meandering walkway, I ran into Fern Terry, the dean of student affairs, exiting the main administrative building. Most of the college's non-academic departments had offices in the large colonial-style structure built in the early twentieth century, each with an identical single window peering across campus. Several chimneys poked out of the medium-pitched, dark-colored roof, and a giant circular clock in its center upper peak served to report the official campus time.

  “We're overdue for lunch,” I said, stopping at a nearby pink dogwood tree where the two paths crossed. “I'm probably free any day next week. How about you?”

  “I've got an out-of-town conference, then I'll be in panic mode trying to get ahead of the curve. Any chance you have time this weekend? I'd love to pick your brain about this upcoming family wedding.” Fern towered over me. Her wide frame often reminded students of a football player fully dressed in all his gear and padding. She'd been trying to lose a few pounds lately and had hired a trainer to focus on the problem areas, a suggestion Dr. Betscha posed while reminding Fern she wasn't getting any younger. I believe she body-checked my poor cousin when he'd cavalierly delivered that news.

  Although Fern's son and my aunt marrying into the Paddington family wouldn't make us related, we enjoyed thinking somehow it meant we were suddenly some sort of step-cousins eighteen times removed from one another. “Let's do dinner on Saturday. Emma has a sleepover with a friend, and I'll have the evening to myself.” One of her schoolmates would be celebrating a birthday and had invited her four best pals to spend an afternoon at the local gymnastics facility followed by dinner at a Chuck E. Cheese's restaurant and an animated cartoon movie night.

  “Perfect. Want to check out Simply Stoddard?” Fern explained that they'd be catering the wedding, and she wanted to sample a few of their dishes again before making the final decision on what would be served. The Paddingtons were paying for everything else at the wedding but had agreed to let Fern fund the food. I'd met the owners of the new downtown restaurant the month prior and recently tried to repair the remnants of our awkward relationship, especially after previously pushing them hard for answers during a murder investigation about their relocation to Braxton.

  We agreed on a time, and Fern offered to make the reservation. “What's the status of the cable car redesign project?” I knew the area had been released by the police, but I wasn't sure if Fern had found a replacement crew.

  “Endicott Construction is sending over a new guy to finish the last few items. I met with Nicholas myself, and he hired Cheney Stoddard to finish it,” Fern added, complaining that Nicholas had gotten black paint all over her new blouse that day. While she excused herself to attend a meeting on time, I wondered whether the same black paint had been used to change the color of a few calla lilies. What motive could Nicky be hiding for stealing jewelry or murdering Quint? There seemed to be some confusion or discrepancies over future ownership of the company. I added it to my mental follow-up list.

  I was glad to hear Cheney had found a job after losing out on the last opportunity when my brother had been hired to fix several cabins near the Saddlebrook National Forest. I rambled down the rest of the walkway and navigated my way toward the library to visit Maggie. On display in the lobby were the plans for the renovation they'd undertake in the fall semester. I was extremely excited to see the boring old structure being razed in favor of a newer, more modern facility.

  Once I reached her office, Maggie said, “What brings you by, Kellan?” Maggie had immaculate alabaster skin, and her luscious brown hair had recently been cut shoulder length. She easily charmed others with her girl-next-door personality, a pleasant change of pace from her former ultra-reserved self.

  “A few things. I heard the new library plans were released and wanted to see what the place would look like. That's gonna be one fantastic building when it's finished,” I said, noticing her sister, Helena, standing in the corner. Wasn't she supposed to be at Woodland Warriors with my daughter?

  “Hey, gorgeous. Looking sexy as always,” Helena teased, following with a serenade of 'Super Bass' by Nicki Minaj, complete with a brief booty dance that caused her sister to scowl.

  “Helena, that's enough, we're in the library!” Maggie's face flushed bright red.

  Helena repented by crossing her hands against her chest and bowing. “Miss Innocent over there says it's only going to take one year to pull off the whole remodel. Fancy that!”

  “We'll be able to use part of the existing building while the new structure is
built, but in the spring semester, we'll have a temporary library setup elsewhere. I'm still working through the final details,” Maggie explained, before offering me a bottle of water and ignoring Helena. “What else can I do for you? Sorry, but I have a staff meeting to lead in a couple of minutes.”

  “I won't keep you. Have you heard from Connor? I need to talk to him about something.”

  “He should be landing at the Philadelphia airport around this time tomorrow, then he's driving back to Wharton County. Everything okay?” Maggie asked with a slight squint.

  “Yes, just wanted to find out about his trip. I left him a message. He'll probably reply when he has time.” I didn't want to say too much in front of Helena, but I also wasn't sure how close Connor and Maggie were these days. He'd been dating both Maggie and my sister, Eleanor, which wasn't something I could ever be comfortable with. I've always been a one-woman kind of guy, but if he was able to keep the peace until deciding which girl was better for him, I could easily keep my mouth shut about the situation. I was currently under the impression Eleanor's feelings for him had begun waning over time.

  “I'll escort you. I need to get to work,” Helena said, as Maggie led us back to the lobby of the library. While Maggie kept walking down the hall to her meeting, Helena locked onto my arm as we exited the building. “So, what's shaking, studly?”

  “I heard Cheney is finishing the cable car repairs. A good move for him,” I said while rolling my eyes, even though she'd previously told me things weren't going well since their break-up.

  “He mentioned it this morning. Cheney's excited, but I'm not letting him get the wrong idea. I don't want to be in a relationship,” Helena explained once we reached the main campus entrance.

  “Are you attending the funeral for Quint tomorrow?” I asked when we stopped near the gate.

  Helena repeated that she needed to get to Woodland Warriors for her afternoon shift. She and the assistant teacher split the day, guaranteeing there was someone onsite for early morning drop-offs as well as someone for late evening pick-ups. “Yes, but I'll be there late. I won't be done at the camp until seven o'clock. It's sad, but I'm looking forward to seeing the rest of the Alpha Iota Omega sisters,” Helena replied while digging in her pocketbook for her car keys.

  “I didn't know you'd been part of a sorority,” I exclaimed. Helena, like Gabriel, was four years younger than Maggie and me, which meant we'd never attended high school or college at the same time. “Is that the group of friends you mentioned the other day?”

  Helena nodded. “Imogene Grey, Krissy Stanton, Tiffany Nutberry, and I pledged together in the spring of our sophomore year. We had such an amazing time back then, but I was a lot pluckier femme fatale when I was younger, I guess.”

  From everything I knew and what Maggie had told me, Helena was still a wild child. “You were all in a pledge class together? Was Gabriel a part of this group of friends?”

  “Sure was. Quint Crawford, Paul Dodd, and Nicky Endicott were the other guys we hung out with. The eight of us spent our free time together before eventually parting ways,” she explained.

  “Did Gabriel talk to you about why he left town that summer?”

  “Nah. He and I weren't all that close. It was a little awkward because we knew you and Maggie had once dated… we kinda kept a little distance between us.” Helena declared again that she had to leave to ensure on-time arrival at Woodland Warriors.

  I hadn't realized Helena knew everyone involved. Could she have unexpected information about who might've stolen the jewelry or killed Quint? I planned to tread carefully. Most people believed Quint had died of natural causes, despite my inclination that electrocution didn't qualify as natural. I'd have to navigate the conversation gently from the jewelry burglaries toward motives for wanting Quint dead. “A couple of questions. It shouldn't take too long. Your family had some jewelry stolen lately, right?” I knew the rubies belonged to her mother and her sister, but what did she know about them?

  “Yeah, it was kinda creepy. Maggie freaked out when she realized someone had stolen them while she was at work, but that calla lily was the strangest thing. I overheard Connor tell Maggie there was a flower left at all the places where something had been stolen. You can't tell anyone else, though.” Helena looked at her watch and motioned for me to hurry up. “Sorry, can't lose this job, babe. Plus, Emma prefers me to the other assistant teacher.”

  I'm sure Emma did. She'd raved about Miss Roarke's lessons the prior evening. “It's a little strange that four of the girls in your sorority's pledge class had something stolen last time, and it appears to be happening again to the same crew of families. Anything you might know about that?”

  Helena's face flushed, and she averted her gaze. “I really need to go, Kellan.”

  “Wait. This is important. If you know something, please tell me so I can… never mind why.” I gently grabbed her arm to prevent her from walking away. “I don't mean this how it sounds, but I helped find George Braun's real killer last time, so you weren't stuck in jail. It's payback time.” Helena owed me for everything I'd done to protect her when she'd been accused of knifing the professor.

  “Ugh, okay. You can't tell anyone else.” Helena made me swear on Francesca's grave, which made no sense, but she didn't know the reason. “It's about something we did to join the sisterhood.”

  My fraternity had done some questionable things back in the day, but there were lines we'd never crossed. It seemed like that wasn't the case for other Greek societies, but not everyone operated the same. Generally, each new semester, sororities and fraternities would hold social functions to search for new members during the rush period. It allowed everyone to decide which organization best matched their interests before officially moving forward with a decision. Some Greek societies requested formal applications for a board review; others accepted any new members. At Braxton, it had been more of an exclusive membership. The sorority or fraternity employed clandestine notification procedures when notifying potential members about entering their probationary period. During the subsequent weeks, the candidates became official pledges and would have to learn detailed facts about each official member. They'd also perform semi-shady actions before being inducted as a full sister or brother, hence the appropriate fear of hazing and bullying practices. As part of the pledging process to become a member of the Alpha Iota Omega sorority, each new pledge class had been burdened with a trifecta: something complex, dangerous, and unethical. It was considered a test to see how far each girl would go to become a full-fledged sister, but it'd also been designed to create a bond and a secret between the girls, ensuring they'd protect one another no matter what the cost.

  “What exactly were the four of you tasked with doing when you pledged?” I pushed, worried about what she might reveal and how it connected to suspects responsible for Quint's strangulation.

  “Look, it was foolish, but we only stole that first piece of jewelry. We were going to give it back, except then….” Helena revealed the entire sordid story.

  The Alpha Iota Omega sorority had been founded by a group of women from five major families who'd lived in Braxton in the early 1900s—Paddington, Nutberry, Grey, Roarke, and Stanton. The year Helena pledged had been the one-hundredth anniversary, and the sorority's leadership had requested something preposterously massive to prove to all the alumni that they were the strongest members. The assignment dropped on the newest pledge class—steal a piece of jewelry from one of the original founding families, then present it on the night they'd be formally inducted into the sisterhood. There were only four members in Helena's class representing the Nutberry, Grey, Roarke, and Stanton families. None of the Paddington girls had been in college at the time, enabling the four of them to easily agree to steal the jewelry from the Paddington family.

  “We were attending a performance at the Paddington Play House when Krissy saw the brooch on the floor. We decided to take it that night and agreed to keep our actions secret. The plan was to give it
back to the Paddingtons at the induction ceremony, but then something went off-track,” Helena added with noticeable discomfort over revealing her sisterhood's reprehensible secrets. “Krissy gave the brooch to the president of the sorority after the show. We all saw her put it in the safe, but when we went to retrieve it for the induction ceremony the following week with the alumni, it was missing.”

  Helena explained that they'd been too scared to go to the police, especially when more thefts kept happening over the next month. Once the burglaries had stopped, the girls vowed never to speak about them again. Helena and her pledge sisters had become full members of the sorority, the police never learned it'd been meant as a joke, and the girls had moved on with their lives. I assumed that one of the girls in the sorority must've removed the brooch from the safe, which meant she was potentially the same person who'd committed the crimes years ago. It didn't explain how Quint's death aligned with the burglaries unless one of the girls had started stealing again and had lost the ruby while killing him in the cable car for some other reason. Had Quint caught the thief and been punished? It also didn't explain Gabriel's involvement, but the timing of his departure from Braxton could've been an abject coincidence. It was imperative I found out what records the pawn shop had kept eight years ago.

  * * *

  I spent the rest of the evening researching a work project, training Baxter, and watching a few cartoons before tucking Emma in bed and nodding off on the couch. When I woke up on Friday, Connor still hadn't returned my text message which worried me that he'd unearthed troubling news about my brother. I dropped off Emma at the bus stop, watched her leave for camp, and spent the morning dealing with some administrative responsibilities at Braxton. Since I would attend the wake for Quint Crawford at the Whispering Pines funeral parlor after class, my mother agreed to meet Emma when the bus dropped her off after camp. I planned to pick up my daughter from the Royal Chic-Shack once my evening finished.