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

by James J Cudney

  In need of a break, I escaped to run a few errands and order a sandwich at a local deli for lunch. By the time I ate and returned a few phone calls in my office, my afternoon lecture was ready to begin. I used the back staircase to access the first floor and walked toward the classroom. As I approached it, I heard two women chatting. I recognized the voices as Imogene and Krissy and remained in the hallway to snoop on their conversation. I usually wouldn't eavesdrop on someone else's private discussion, but if they knew something about the current burglaries or Quint's death, it would be beneficial for me to listen in and share any news with April and Connor. I just hoped it wasn't a conversation about shoes!

  “Seriously, you've always wanted him. You tried to steal Quint from me years ago too,” Imogene said to Krissy in a demure voice.

  Krissy shouted, “I would've had him except you kept stringing him along with promises. You broke his heart when you chose Paul. And you probably broke his heart again this time, you fool.”

  “That's just silly. You've got it backward. Quint was acting strangely while we were together, and that's when I decided to get serious with Paul,” Imogene countered with a curt, supercilious tone. “None of it matters anymore. He's gone, and I'm engaged to Paul. And I know things about you.”

  “You've been dating Paul for almost eight years now. I doubt our new town councilman will actually marry you. He'll want a wife he can be proud of, not a disingenuous French tart,” Krissy yelled.

  I heard the sound of a harsh slap and assumed Imogene must have attacked Krissy. The door opened down the hall and Siobhan called out to me. “Hi, Dr. Ayrwick. How're you today?”

  Imogene responded, “You're jealous because none of the guys in our group desired you.”

  “That's not true. You don't know anything about—”

  I interrupted by walking into the room. I couldn't stand there playing the role of slobbering spectator while Siobhan watched me, so I waved her over and attempted to calm the other girls. “Whatever is going on between the two of you needs to stop right now. Students are beginning to arrive, and it's obvious you're both terribly upset. Let's take a quick break.” I asked Siobhan to accompany Krissy to the restroom while she splashed cool water on her face since she'd just been smacked.

  Imogene stepped outside with me, and I said, “Do you want to talk about what just happened?”

  “That's not necessary. Krissy is, and has always been, a bully. We were best friends a long time ago, but she's grown far worse over the years. We'll work it out. I promise it won't interfere with class,” Imogene said, looking nervously at the ground and rubbing the hand she'd used to whack Krissy's cheek.

  Something about Imogene's reaction felt insincere or forced. Given the sudden violent outburst I'd witnessed, her newly calm exterior wouldn't have been my initial expectation. If she were capable of such a quick transition, what else might she be hiding? Could Imogene have been the one to steal the Paddington brooch from the sorority's safe eight years ago, then gone on a rampage thieving all the rest of the jewelry? If that were true, she would've had to fake the robbery at her mother's place the prior weekend.

  Then, I remembered that Quint had been distraught over a break-up. Krissy had mentioned Quint and Imogene had been in love years ago, and she'd ended it for some reason. The only motivation I could understand for Imogene killing Quint would be if he'd discovered the truth about the robberies and confronted her. Was Imogene truly capable of murdering someone she'd once been seriously involved with? Sometimes people surprised you with the secrets they kept. It was a long shot, but I needed to consider all theories and suspects while collecting more information about Quint's life and current relationships. “I'm glad your issues with Krissy won't cause further incidents in class. You're overwhelmed by your friend's death. Emotions run high during painful times.”

  “Quint and I were friends long ago, but we lost touch. I'd overlooked how much I missed him until recently,” Imogene said as she perched modestly on a nearby bench.

  A few students walked by, including Raquel. I'd forgotten she wanted to talk after class today. As Imogene's head hung low, Raquel checked if everything was okay. I nodded and told her we'd be inside momentarily. “Imogene, maybe the funeral will help provide a way to say a proper goodbye.”

  “You're right, thank you. I appreciate your kindness, but we should get back to class.” Imogene jumped up and walked toward Diamond Hall with determined steps.

  After she trotted away, I struggled to understand the exchange that had occurred between her and Krissy. It was clear Krissy had been jealous of Imogene, but what was Krissy's relationship with Quint before he had been killed? Neither girl seemed capable of strangling Quint under normal conditions, yet during an intense argument, it might be possible, especially if Quint had threatened to call the cops. Both women had average-sized hands, though Krissy's were slightly larger than Imogene's. What I struggled to understand was why someone would electrocute Quint after they'd already strangled him. It was unfortunate I couldn't listen to the coroner's explanation about the order of the events when Quint had been murdered. Was the electrocution simply to cover up evidence, or had it occurred first? Still, someone had turned off the power source before I'd arrived, making things even murkier. Could the jogger I'd witnessed have been the killer coming back to retrieve the gloves and turn off the power? Sandalwood was a strong scent, and I might stumble upon someone wearing it again. I wanted to ask more direct questions, but people believed Quint had died of an accidental electrocution. I couldn't even hint about murder, not without the repercussions of idle gossip. Ugh, so frustrating!

  The remainder of my lecture completed smoothly. I made a last-minute change to limit the amount of time students would work in groups, theorizing it'd be best to keep the two girls from interacting with one another immediately after they'd had a fight. After everyone left, Raquel and I spent thirty minutes reviewing her background and discussing her interest in the film industry. “What was your undergraduate degree in?”

  “Political science and economics, but I went to graduate school and earned an MBA with a focus on management and leadership. I worked for a few years before getting married. I'm still figuring out what's next,” she responded and crossed her legs. Only a few inches of skin could be seen below the hem of her skirt and the top of her knee-high leather boots.

  “Do you see yourself working in the entertainment business, or is this class just something to keep from being bored until you find the right job?” I asked, curious whether she planned to remain in Braxton or move elsewhere. There would be little opportunity to make movies or films in this part of the country, at least not as a full-time job. While a few production companies and studios had opened in New York City and the southern part of the country, I wasn't familiar with anything major in Pennsylvania that would attract her attention.

  “Mostly to keep busy while my husband focuses on his career. We might move to the West Coast if his current job doesn't pan out. What's Los Angeles like?” Raquel flashed her colorful eyes at me and leaned in closer. “Did you work with any celebrities or important people? Were you on camera?”

  “A few stars crossed my path. My expertise is in investigative reporting, historical crimes, and behind-the-scenes coordination. I'm not interested in acting or dealing with fans. I like my privacy.” In the past, several colleagues had pushed me to audition for roles on the popular crime shows, but I didn't want to worry about always looking perfect, interacting with followers, and playing distinct roles. My skills were in getting things done, not projecting an image I couldn't possibly maintain twenty-four-seven.

  “You're a handsome man. You've built a following, even if you don't want to admit it. I did some research when I saw you'd be teaching this class. How come you're back in Pennsylvania? Based on what you want to do, you'd be better off in LA.” Raquel licked her lips and tilted her head to the side.

  For a hot second, I wondered if she were flirting with me. While she was attr
active, we were both married even if I intended to terminate my relationship as soon as Las Vargas released Francesca. “I'm not comfortable having that conversation. Let's focus on you and what I can do to help.”

  “Just trying to comprehend how you made your decisions. I thought it might help me understand if I'd be better off moving to Hollywood.” She leaned back again, reining in her lingering glances and coquettish smile. “I've heard the rumors about you solving a lot of murders around here. You must be fantastic at your job. You should've gone into the FBI instead of directing and teaching.”

  “I considered it when I was younger. I've always had a knack for solving puzzles and figuring out people's secrets. It's easy to see through the walls people put up when you listen to the words they use, especially if I feel like someone's not being truthful with me.” Once I'd moved to the West Coast and been granted a few lucky breaks, I'd grown too enamored with Hollywood and decided not to leave it until recently. But I was happier with my life these days, especially being closer to my family again.

  “As long as you're careful. I overheard Krissy and Imogene talking about the jewelry thefts during break. It sounds dangerous. Hopefully, you're not getting involved in solving that crime!” Raquel handed me a print-out of next semester's courses. “This is what I hope to take. What do you think?”

  “First off, I think the sheriff is capable of solving the burglaries. Second, my plate is full these days. Now, let's peruse your proposal.” I glanced at her suggestions and agreed with her enrollment plans. Perhaps she was simply bored and nosy and wanted to get to know me better. I shared some background on how she could study the film industry outside of Braxton. After Raquel left, my phone vibrated with a text that accentuated the already disastrous aura surrounding the upcoming evening.

  Connor: Just landed. We need to talk about your brother. It's important.

  Me: What did Gabriel do now? We can meet at the wake tonight.

  Connor: Okay. For starters, it seems like he's involved in some or all the jewelry thefts.

  Me: Perhaps it just looks that way? Give me some hope here, man.

  Connor: Gabriel has also quickly risen on my list of suspects potentially connected with Quint's murder.

  Me: That's not helping me! He's NOT a murderer.

  Connor: I wish I had better news, but I might be forced to get a warrant issued for his arrest tomorrow.

  Chapter 8

  Post Connor's last text message, my body yearned for positive distraction. When I checked on Emma, my mother had just arrived home and was heating dinner for all of them. The housekeeper had stored a meal in the refrigerator when she'd finished cooking earlier that day; my mother was not the most domestic person I knew. After our chat, I stopped at the Pick-Me-Up Diner for a quick bite to eat with Eleanor. With one hour before Quint's service, it would be beneficial to hold a sibling catch up.

  “Look what the cat dragged in,” she teased as I walked inside the recently renovated eatery a few blocks from campus. A turquoise and slate-gray sundress adorned my sister's solid and compact body, features she'd struggled to accept until realizing their value during her field hockey days. Wide hips and thick, muscular arms came from the Danby side of the family, and they weren't something she could change. Eleanor handed a receipt to a customer who dashed past me and into the parking lot.

  “Good evening to you too. Do you greet all your best customers that way?” I asked as she kissed my cheek and handed two menus to a waitress who was seating someone ahead of me.

  “Only the ones I love. Follow me to the office. I need to call back a supplier. You can stop in the kitchen to pick up our meals from Chef Manny. He should be done by now,” Eleanor said while walking to the far corner of the diner. When she said Manny's name, I could swear her eyes brightened.

  While she made a right toward her office, I stopped in front of the kitchen and gently pushed open the swinging door. Before I could lean my head inside to let Manny know we were ready, his voice echoed in the hall. It would either be an insurance issue or a health code violation for me to wander into the kitchen. I didn't work there and had no training; therefore, I wouldn't step all the way inside.

  “Nah, she doesn't know. I'm afraid to tell her. What if it doesn't come through?” Manny said with an excess of hesitation in his voice. I couldn't see him because he stood behind the door cooking on the grill. He must not have been talking to me, given I hadn't a clue what he'd meant.

  Another muffled voice responded, “She's the boss. You gotta tell her today if you're gonna leave town. It's an amazing opportunity. Does Eleanor know you got married on that Vegas trip?”

  Manny replied, “Nope. I couldn't bring myself to disappoint her. We've worked together for years and gotten very close. I'd feel like a jerk to up and leave just when she took over the joint.”

  As far as I could tell, Manny was happy working at the diner. I'd always suspected he had the whisper of an attraction to Eleanor, but nothing had ever come of it. He'd gone on vacation after she'd bought the place that spring, but once he'd returned, Eleanor thought he'd begun acting strangely. She assumed he was solicitous because they used to be peers, yet as the owner, she was officially his boss instead of just the serving staff manager. It hadn't been an easy road for my sister, especially when the contractor she'd hired for the repairs absconded with some of her money and she later failed the initial electrical inspection. It would be a disaster if her chef resigned in the first few months.

  Manny must have noticed the door was slightly ajar. “Who's there?”

  I poked my head inside and smiled. “Hola, amigo. Eleanor says she's ready for our dinner.”

  “Hey, Kellan, I'll bring it to her office in a minute. Is Emma here?” Manny loved visiting with my daughter. She would suggest ideas for meals whenever Eleanor watched Emma for me.

  “Not today. She's with my parents, but we'll be back again soon, I'm sure. How's everything with you?” I asked, wondering if he'd say anything to me about the news I'd just overheard.

  “Bueno. Tell her I said hi,” he replied without looking up from the grill.

  As a waitress picked up a hot dish, I scooted out of her way and headed toward Eleanor's office. When I arrived, my sister hung up the phone and said, “All good?”

  “That depends. Have you figured out why Manny was acting weird the last two months?” I didn't want to be the one to tell Eleanor but also wasn't sure I knew the whole story. What amazing opportunity had the other kitchen worker been talking about?

  “We chatted a few weeks ago. I got the impression he was doing okay, but I know he's holding back. I'm not sure if he's upset that I bought the diner and he wanted to try to swing it himself, or if there's something else going on.” Eleanor absentmindedly cleared her desk, so we had a place to eat. “I didn't think he wanted to buy his own place. He likes operating behind the scenes, kind of like you.”

  I told Eleanor what I'd overheard and offered a minor concession to make her feel better. “Maybe I misunderstood the conversation. I can be easily confused.”

  “Him quitting would be awful news. I'm gonna confront Manny.” She marched past me in a fury.

  I grabbed her arm. “Hold up, Attila. Maybe now isn't the best time. Wait until things slow down when you can talk to him alone.”

  Eleanor couldn't respond when Manny walked in with two plates and set them on the desk. “It's today's special. Chicken cordon bleu with scalloped potatoes.”

  “It smells amazing. You're the best chef around. I'm really glad we're working together. I should probably give you a raise, huh?” Eleanor said, patting him on the back. She was laying it on a little thick, in my humble opinion, but at least she didn't confront him.

  Manny blushed and waved his hands at her as he stepped backward out of the office. “No, no. Everything is good. I need to get back to the kitchen.” He glanced back at her longer than I'd expected.

  Eleanor scowled at me. “He's got that same look on his face that you get whenever
you feel guilty about something. Is it a man thing? Why can't you just tell us the truth?” She sliced into her chicken with a little too much energy and precision and grunted at me like an angry troll.

  “Don't take your frustrations out on me, little sister. I do not keep things from people.”

  “One word,” she said, looking at me with a devious smirk.

  “Awesome?”

  “Francesca.”

  She had a point. I was keeping my wife's reincarnation from our parents. “That's different.”

  “I know.” Eleanor's entire demeanor had changed since I'd shown up fifteen minutes earlier. “I just wanted to bring up her name, so you could tell me the latest.”

  I updated Eleanor on my partnership with April, the calls from Cristiano, and the meeting with the Castiglianos. I expected something new to happen over the weekend but feared the outcome of it would be another unwelcome surprise. She helped me stay as calm as possible under the circumstances. “I should head to the funeral home for Quint's service soon.”

  “Poor guy. He used to flirt with me all the time when he'd come in for lunch or a late dinner. I liked him a lot, and he could be awfully persuasive and assertive, but Quint just wasn't my type. Although, I almost yielded to his seduction once. He knew how to make you feel special, but he'd also pined away for Imogene way too long and couldn't commit to another girl,” Eleanor explained with a rueful sigh.

  “I've heard that about him. Do you think he'd ever hurt a woman?” I'd experienced mixed responses from different people in Quint's life regarding his behavior. He'd worshipped all the ladies he'd dated but struggled to view others, like Fern, as an authority figure. I could only conclude that he was a bit of a chameleon, depending on the situation and balance of power in the relationship. I theorized someone had resented his quicksilver ability to dazzle a woman and then disappoint her when he snatched back his charms. Or had someone like Paul begrudged Quint's past with Imogene? It wouldn't be the first time a jealous man killed to protect the woman he loved.