President Ross, Kendra Rolland, and Chief Langdon all looked at each other, playing hot potato with the microphone as they passed it back and forth. Chief Langdon finally conceded that he would have to address some of these questions and stepped forward, microphone in hand. “As I said, we have yet to make a determination as to the cause of Logan LeCroix’s death. As for a weapon, I have no comment on that.”
Unsatisfied with a further brush off, Professor Wilmhurst countered, “Well, are you at least going to install some security cameras on campus for our safety?”
President Ross and Kendra Rolland looked at each other, and Ross nodded to Rolland. Kendra stepped forward and stated matter-of-factly, “We have security cameras all over campus now and will be reviewing the footage from them.”
“Where are the cameras located? Are there any near Scobey Hall where Logan was found?” asked Professor Wilmhurst impatiently.
For the first time, Kendra actually looked nervous. She took a moment before answering but then replied, “We are not at liberty to divulge the whereabouts of any of the cameras on campus.” With that statement, the microphone clicked to the off position, and the speakers all scurried off-stage, to the dismay of the crowded Caldwell Room.
The majority of the people packed into the MSU meeting room looked at each other in bewilderment. The meeting brought up more questions than answers and really provided no information. “I can’t believe this! They know a lot more than they’re saying,” said Diane. She turned to Marlee, looking for clarification. “You teach Criminology. What do you think is going on? Could it have been a mob hit?”
Marlee took her time answering, feeling on the spot. It always baffled her that some people thought that, because she had a Ph.D. in Criminology and taught various criminal justice courses, she had a crystal ball and could clearly lay out the means, motive and opportunity of any crime. Still, she understood that Diane was just seeking any insight into Logan’s death. “One thing we know for sure,” said Marlee in a measured tone “is that the less information the PD and the campus bigwigs give us, the more rumors we’ll have. We’re all desperate for information on Logan’s death. We all want to feel safe, and we all want to know what the hell happened. Generally, when people don’t have concrete answers, their imaginations go into overdrive, and all types of explanations, innuendo and rumors bubble up. Anything is possible.”
“Why won’t the police tell us if they know anything about a gun?” asked Kathleen. “It’s a simple yes or no answer,” she said, shaking her head.
“Because the police are always hesitant to offer up too much information about a crime at the beginning,” said Marlee, launching into professor mode and giving her standard lecture about police procedure. “They may have a suspect or someone in custody, and by withholding details of the crime, detectives may be able to verify if a specific person did or did not kill Logan. If the PD doesn’t confirm that a gun was used, and then a suspect implicates himself by talking about a gun, then they have something to hold against him. Another thing to consider is that regardless of the manner of death, the police have to locate and notify Logan’s next of kin before they can release too much information. It’s standard protocol to inform family of a death before releasing specific details. The last thing anyone wants is to hear of a loved one’s death on a news broadcast.”
“I wonder if it has anything to do with Logan being gay?” asked Diane.
“Do we know for sure that he was gay?” asked Gwen. “I guess, based on stereotypes, he might be perceived as gay, but I never heard if he was or wasn’t.”
The five women looked at each other, and Marlee shrugged. “I hadn’t heard that he was, but I assumed so. I guess it’s never a good idea to make assumptions, but I did.”
At that point in the conversation, Gwen dropped a major bomb. “Well, I don’t know if this has anything to do with Logan’s death, but I think I might have been the victim of a hate crime last week.”
“What?” shouted Marlee, Kathleen and Diane in unison. Shelly was the only one who didn’t seem shocked, but she and Gwen were partners after all, and she had probably heard all the details.
“Well, I’m not sure if it would actually be called a crime,” Gwen backpedaled, obviously uncomfortable that she might be overstating the incident. “It was anti-gay, though, that’s for sure.”
“Well, what happened?” asked Marlee impatiently.
“I’m the advisor for the Tae Kwon Do Club, and we were having an early morning practice at the Bentley Center last Wednesday. When I came out of the building, I noticed a note on my car, stuffed under the driver’s side windshield wiper. It said ‘DIKE’. It wasn’t even spelled right.”
“Who do you think did it?” Diane queried.
“I have no idea. It could be anybody. Practice started at 6:00 a.m. and was over by seven, so the note was left sometime in that hour,” said Gwen.
“Do you still have it?” asked Marlee.
“No, I was mad and threw it away later that morning,” Gwen said, her face turning redder by the minute. “I don’t know if this is related or not, but somebody keyed my car door last month. I chalked it up to somebody being drunk or just stupid. Do you think it was done by the same person who left the note?”
“I have no idea, but it seems like a strange coincidence that you would have intentional damage to your car and then, a few weeks later, get a note,” said Marlee. The thing about coincidences is that they don’t happen as often as we like to think.”
“What do you mean?” asked Shelly.
“When things happen, it’s usually not random. What are the odds that both of those things would happen to the same person in the span of a month?” asked Marlee. Have either of you experienced anything else like this since you moved to Elmwood?
Shelly and Gwen both shook their heads no, but looked at each other knowingly.
“What is it?” asked Marlee.
The couple hesitated, and then Gwen said, “We haven’t had anything else happen to us directly, but some of our friends have. One thing we know for sure is that Elmwood is not a gay-friendly town.”
People in this remote little town are obsessed with conformity and labels. Woe to the person who is different, or doesn’t fit the mold of a typical Elmwood citizen. At first, the town seems very friendly. People go out of their way to greet you and offer to help you move into your office. I was given more zucchini, tomatoes, and cucumbers than I could ever eat. Besides the generous offers of moving assistance and the gifts of home-grown produce, the Elmwood residents I met seemed to really care about one another. They were especially welcoming to me–at least, they were at first.
What I learned about Elmwood, and about Midwestern State University, is that appearances can be deceptive.
Very deceptive.
Chapter 6
Sean Yellow Tail, a senior MSU student majoring in Criminal Justice and a recent hire at the Elmwood Police Department looked a bit overwhelmed by the events of the day. Even though he stood six feet and four inches tall, he was not an imposing figure, due primarily to his baby face and the fact that he was about forty pounds underweight for his height. Although he rarely participated in class discussions or asked questions, Marlee knew that he was extremely bright, given the detailed and factually accurate responses he provided to her essay exams.
Sean was an enrolled member of the Rosebud Tribe although he had never lived a day of his life on an Indian reservation. His mother lived on the Rosebud Reservation as a child but moved to Elmwood in her early twenties and remained there to work at the local Urban Indian Health Clinic and raise her family. Sean had taken four of Marlee’s classes in past semesters and was currently in her Criminology class. Since Gwen seemed a bit hesitant about disclosing her suspicions of her possible hate-crime victimizations to police officers, Marlee asked her if she would be willing to speak with Sean, since he was one of her students. Although an officer, Sean appeared less intimidating than the seasoned officers milling
about the Caldwell Room conducting interviews. Gwen agreed, and Marlee pulled Sean aside. She introduced Sean and Gwen and let Gwen recount her experiences with the defamatory note and the paint damage to her car. Sean Yellow Tail took copious notes during the interview and asked a series of questions pertaining to a variety of topics.
“Dr. Gerken, do you have any suspicions as to who would leave the note on your car?” asked Sean.
“No, I don’t. I’ve never had anyone here on campus make any comments to my face about being gay. I’ve never even overheard any jokes or snide remarks,” Gwen replied.
“Do you think the note and the scratch on the car door are related?” Sean asked.
“Well, I don’t know. I don’t have any proof,” stammered Gwen, obviously feeling a bit awkward answering these questions. “Do you think they have anything to do with Logan’s death?”
Sean looked down at his notes, thinking what to say in response to Gwen’s question. He had been on the job less than six months and had just recently returned from the police academy. Sean was still learning the finer points of interviewing and responding to questions. Raising his head and looking at Gwen with his dark brown eyes camouflaged behind tinted glasses, Sean said “Dr. Gerken, I don’t know if there’s any connection, but any information we get may be very important. We won’t know the full story of Dr. LeCroix’s death until we start putting together all bits and pieces. What you told me may have some impact on the case, or it might not. Either way, it appears that you were the victim of harassment, which is a crime in and of itself, so it’s good that you made the report.”
Gwen nodded and offered up a weak smile, clearly reassured that she did the right thing in reporting the matter to Officer Yellow Tail. “Do you have any other information that might pertain to the Logan LeCroix investigation?” he asked.
Shelly and Gwen again looked at each other, communicating without words. Shelly shrugged and Gwen turned toward Sean. “We have friends here in town who told us about similar notes being left on their cars in the past and some damage done to the front yard of one of their homes. Besides that, this town really isn’t gay-friendly. I can get a discount at the Speedy Fitness Center through my employment as an MSU professor. It is for me and my family, but since I’m gay, they won’t offer the discount to my partner, Shelly. Just me. I know they offer it to couples who are living together but not married, so it’s not like it’s just for married people. It seems to be a gay issue with them.”
As Gwen continued her interview with Officer Yellow Tail, Diane motioned Marlee over to the side of the room. “Aren’t you scared?” Diane asked. “I mean, it could be anybody that killed Logan. It could even be a professor or student who’s right here in this room right now!” Diane’s voice was getting louder and more intense. Marlee knew Diane was a bit skittish about living alone under the best of circumstances, but given a death on campus, she knew Diane was probably frantic.
“Diane, would you like to stay at my house tonight?” asked Marlee.
The relief showed on Diane’s face as she exhaled loudly and said, “Yeah, I would. Can you come over to my place with me so I can grab some things?”
“Sure,” said Marlee. They both got their coats from the booth where they’d been sitting and left the room after saying good bye to Gwen, Shelly and Sean Yellow Tail. Marlee drove them to Diane’s apartment which was located in the upstairs of an older home. The main floor and the basement were also converted into apartments, both occupied by young families. They walked up the steep staircase to Diane’s apartment. It was then that Marlee noticed Diane’s hand shake as she fumbled with the keys to open the front door. After unlocking the door and pushing it open, Diane gingerly stepped inside her small, one-bedroom apartment. She’s scared out of her wits, thought Marlee.
Diane made her way to the kitchen and grabbed her coffee pot, coffee beans, coffee grinder and an assortment of snack foods. Then she walked into her bedroom, quickly looking from side to side as she made her way toward the closet. With her hand on the closet door knob, Diane waited a few seconds before pulling it open as if she half expected someone to jump out at them. After gathering up her clothes and toiletries, Diane shoved them all into a dark green canvas bag with frayed shoulder straps.
Back in the car, Marlee asked, “Are you okay? You seemed really scared when we were in your place.”
“I am. Aren’t you? I mean, why Logan? It could have been any one of us killed on campus. I go in late at night all the time to prep for my classes. I’m a night owl, so working late at night is much more productive for me than getting to work at 8:00 a.m. My classes aren’t until late afternoon or evening, so it just works better for me to go in late or stay after night classes. What if I’d been on campus that night instead of at Thom Dole’s Halloween party? What if whoever killed Logan is going to kill again? What if it’s a serial killer?” Diane was upset and working herself into a panic with her wild speculation.
“Diane, we don’t know much of anything right now,” said Marlee, “but I think the best thing we can all do for own safety is to go places in groups or at least pairs. I’m going to stay off campus at night as much as possible from now on. We both have night class, so we’ll have to be there late from time to time, but I think working alone in the wee hours is a bad idea for all of us.”
“Me too,” said Diane, nodding in agreement. “Until whoever did this is found, I’m going to be watching my back!”
Within ten minutes, they arrived at Marlee’s house. She had just purchased her home that August and was still getting settled into the terracotta-colored Spanish-style home. Marlee drove into the three-car garage, which was ridiculously large for her small SUV and one bicycle. It had been built in the past few years, but the small two-bedroom house was built in the 1920s. Inside, the arched doorways and rough, orange-peel texturing on the walls added to the Spanish appearance of the home. The carpet had been replaced recently by the previous owners; the flooring in the kitchen, however, was a dated pattern reminiscent of the 1970s. The dark brown kitchen cupboards were also a throwback from a previous era. The house was a mixture of old and new, nostalgia and comfort. It was not like most homes in Elmwood, and Marlee loved its individuality and personality.
Diane was a frequent visitor at Marlee’s place, so she had no trouble settling in and making herself at home. She left her coffee supplies and snacks on the kitchen counter near the sink and made her way toward the cozy living room. The overstuffed blue couch, love seat, chair and ottoman were crammed into the space. The loveseat and big chair faced the television, while the couch was centered in front of the fireplace. Marlee loved the idea of a fireplace but was scared of having the fire overtake her home. She wasn’t very handy and could easily envision the fire department responding to her 911 call when the fire jumped from the fireplace to the living room rug and spread to the furniture and walls. When Marlee had first toured the house, her realtor had suggested placing candles in the fireplace to give off a soft glow of light without the danger of a burning fire. Diane, on the other hand, was mesmerized by fire and was always encouraging Marlee to “make fire.” So far, she had been able to beg off on building a fire for Diane, citing that the chimney had not been cleaned as her excuse.
Diane threw her tote bag on the floor and plopped down on the couch with a loud sigh. “Thanks for letting me stay here tonight. Hope you don’t mind me camping out on the couch.”
“Not at all,” said Marlee. “I’m glad for the company.” This was true. Although she wasn’t scared like Diane, it would be nice to have someone around to talk with about the horrific events of the past eight hours. It was only 3:00 p.m., but it seemed as if days had passed since she had arrived on campus that morning. Marlee collapsed on the loveseat, propped a pillow behind her back and covered her arms with a multi-colored crocheted blanket made by her mother. The chilly weather and the death of their colleague left Marlee feeling cold and vulnerable. She was scheduled to teach Criminology at 6:00 p.m. that
night but had canceled the class due to Logan’s death and her own overwhelming feelings of sadness and upset.
“I can’t believe any of this is really happening,” said Diane.
“I know. It’s all so surreal. I feel like I’m watching someone else’s life on TV,” Marlee replied. “When is the last time you saw Logan or talked to him?”
Diane thought for a minute and said, “I’d catch a glimpse of him all the time when I’d walk by his office or pass him in the hall, but the last real discussion I had with him was at your house-warming party. When was that, anyway?”
“I closed on my house in August and had the party at the beginning of October. I wanted to wait until I had all the rooms painted, and that took some time to get finished,” said Marlee. She reflected back to the night of the party. She invited several of her colleagues from work as well as some of her non-academic friends. Since Logan’s office was near Marlee’s, and because he was new to the area, she invited him too. She thought it would be a good way to become better acquainted with him and for him to meet more people from campus and the Elmwood community. Marlee had been a newcomer in a few towns and always appreciated it when someone extended an invitation to include her. She assumed Logan might feel the same. He seemed genuinely flattered when Marlee had asked him to her party. She provided the directions and address and assured him he did not need to bring anything. The day before her party, Marlee left her office briefly, leaving the door ajar, and when she returned, a white box with a blue bow on top was sitting near her computer. She quickly opened it - she loved surprises. Inside was a hazelnut-scented candle, a sunflower candle holder and a small journal. Accompanying the gift was a card from Logan which read, “Congratulations on your new house! I’m planning on attending your party tomorrow but might be a bit late. Best, Logan.”
Day of the Dead Page 4