Baggage

by S. G. Redling

  “Hi,” I say to the waiting officers. My voice squeaks from the rawness of my throat. I’ve kicked back the chair several inches without even realizing it and now I’m sitting at an awkward angle to both Meredith and the door, facing neither. I tell myself in a hurry that I’m not acting as weird as I think I am, but judging from the look Meredith is giving me, I’m probably wrong.

  “Can we help you, officers?” Meredith sounds like an adult. I think I should shift my chair but can’t decide if I should turn it back toward my boss or around to face the cops. Everything feels complicated.

  “Hi.” The cop smiles, looking relaxed. “I’m Detective Hinton, this is Officer Neighborgall.”

  “Oh, Detective Hinton!” Meredith’s face lights up. “You were one of the officers who helped us collect toys for the Christmas drive. You put in so many hours. It was such a success. How nice to see you again.”

  “I’m looking to speak with Anna Ray. And Meredith Michener.”

  Now I wish I had turned my chair all the way around to face the door.

  “You found us,” Meredith says with enthusiasm. She says it with a smile, like she didn’t hear the period in that statement. Or maybe like she did. They want to speak to me. And then they want to speak to Meredith. In that order of importance. “What can we do for you?”

  “We’d like to ask you a couple of questions about what happened in the building.” No stilted cop talk here. Hinton has actual questions that will require more than just our names and titles to answer. It’s then that I hear the voices in the hallway. Other cops are standing in other doorways; other radios squawk, but much more quietly now. They are looking for information. They are looking for something specific and they are looking for it here.

  Meredith must recognize the change in tenor. Officer Chubby is nowhere to be found. She waves her hand, inviting the cops into the office. “We’re all yours.”

  They step into the room together, Hinton one step ahead of her partner. It doesn’t escape me that they stand close enough to effectively block the door without being obvious about it. I wonder if that’s intentional or just from years of habit. Hinton’s gaze on me isn’t steely or aggressive but it never wavers.

  “Is there somewhere we can talk, Mrs. Ray?”

  “Right here is fine.” I hope I sound helpful.

  Officer Neighborgall takes off his hat and shakes melted snow off of it and into a garbage can by the door. He’s smiling. “Well, I’ll tell you, it’ll save us a lot of time if we can split it up.”

  I notice his use of pronouns—split it up, not split us up. I can see their dynamic. Hinton is younger than her partner, with a wide, smooth face that doesn’t look like it’s been marked by too many smiles. She doesn’t look cold, just serious and calm. Neighborgall, on the other hand, is ruddy and whiskery, his salt-and-pepper mustache needs a trim and his cheeks look chapped. His eyes wrinkle when he smiles and I suspect his accent is a bit of an affectation. I’d wager he’s the one who steps forward when dealing with the good-old-boy types who refuse to acknowledge Hinton’s rank.

  He strikes me as a tap dancer and a bullshitter. I wonder if he resents being paired with Hinton or if she resents being paired with him. I realize I’m thinking way too much about this and that everyone in the room is waiting for me to say something.

  “My desk is back there.” I point past the divider. “Will that work? Private enough?”

  I want to make her say it, put her on the spot. Am I being questioned privately? Or is splitting us up just a time-saver?

  “That’ll be fine,” Hinton says with a nod toward my desk.

  I push myself out of the chair, meeting Meredith’s eye as I do. We stare at each other for just a second. Her eyes widen with a look that says this particular excitement is a surprise. At least I think that’s what it says. She might just be wondering why I’m staring at her. My gaze flickers to the chocolate.

  “Do you mind?”

  “What?” Clearly her thoughts were somewhere else. “Of course. Please, take some more. Take a couple.”

  I do. The last two caramels and a lavender. The urge to shove something in my mouth is strong right now. I’m not ready to risk another ginger, but caramel will keep me nicely busy.

  Hinton watches me pick out the chocolates, watches me pick up my mug, watches me nudge the chair out of the way. Nothing aggressive about it, I tell myself. Does she think it’s weird that I’m stopping for snacks? She’s waiting to follow me to my desk. What else is she going to watch? Neighborgall’s eyes are wrinkled like he’s smiling but his mustache hides his lips.

  I calm down as I head for my desk, recognizing my own stupid knee-jerk reactions. There’s been a murder. This is a small town. The body was found in the basement of our building. Of course the cops are going to talk to everyone more than once. They’re in other offices right now, aren’t they? You’re not that special, Anna. Nobody is looking at you. I think about Jeannie’s need to be the star of every story she tells, how she feels all eyes and hearts and groins are focused on her. I wonder if this is a psychology unique to our gene pool.

  I set coffee and chocolates down on a file of grant applications and drop into my chair. Hinton pulls out a notebook and motions toward the chair opposite me.

  “Do you mind if I sit?”

  “Of course, go ahead.”

  She mutters her thanks and tries to get comfortable in the chair, tugging on her jacket and adjusting her belt. I’ve never sat in that chair. It doesn’t look uncomfortable but nobody ever seems able to settle in it. In some ways, that makes it a perfect office chair. Nobody should want to stay in it.

  Her radio squawks and in the chatter, I hear Hinton’s name. She pulls the handset off the clip on her jacket. “This is Hinton. Tell Brody it’s a go on that. We’re finishing up in Jenkins. Tell the captain we won’t be long.” More chatter and she silences it.

  They won’t be long. That’s a good sign. I inform my body that it’s okay to relax, that we require neither fight nor flight in the foreseeable future. Hinton opens her notebook but doesn’t bother with the pen.

  “Can you tell me what you know about what happened in the basement?”

  “Someone died. I saw you all taping off the scene when I came back from the library.” She nods and waits for me to keep talking. “Everything else is just rumors.”

  “What are the rumors?”

  “That Ellis Trachtenberg was killed.”

  “Do you know Professor Trachtenberg?”

  “Is it true?” Just because I’m relaxed doesn’t mean I feel like doing all the talking.

  She considers me for a second and then nods. “It is. Sometimes I don’t know why we bother trying to keep a lid on things. I guess there are no secrets at a small college. We haven’t informed his family yet so I would appreciate it if you kept that to yourself.” She gives a resigned hand wave toward the hallway where we can hear people going back and forth. “You know, inasmuch as is possible.”

  “Sure, I know.”

  Another look at her notebook and we’re back to it. “How well did you know Professor Trachtenberg?”

  Shrug. “Not that well. Work friends.”

  She’s not taking notes. “How would you describe your relationship?”

  “I just did. Work friends.”

  Still no notes. “When is the last time you spoke with Mr. Trachtenberg?”

  It takes me a minute to believe the timeline. It feels like years. “Yesterday. He came by the office. It was at lunchtime.”

  “What for?”

  Detective Hinton has a nice voice. It’s soft without being weak, cool without being dismissive. Her manner projects a comfortable amount of interest without triggering a sense of being grilled. Unless of course you’ve been grilled before.

  I know this part. I know this balance. Leaving gaps in the conversation, hoping th
e other person will feel compelled to fill them. A string of simple questions that feel innocuous until you remember that this isn’t small talk; this isn’t a cocktail party and the person asking you the questions isn’t networking or flirting or killing time. They’re looking for something and that something is not necessarily in your words.

  The absolute worst thing to do—besides blurt out a confession, of course—is to switch to an obviously defensive stance. Don’t stonewall but don’t volunteer.

  I have to remind myself that I don’t need to stonewall or volunteer. This isn’t my show. I have nothing to add.

  “He dropped off a book about an obscure art movement he was teaching.” I toss a careless glance to a pile of textbooks heaped on a nearby filing cabinet. I don’t know if the Mann book is there; I just want to make it clear that this is a college office. Books come and go.

  “What was the name of that book?” I tell her and she writes it down. “And after that?”

  “After that, he left. Said he was working on a lecture.”

  “No, I mean when did you talk to him after that?”

  “I didn’t.”

  Her finger twitches on her notebook. “You didn’t talk to Ellis Trachtenberg at any time after that? No messages, nothing?” When I shake my head, she nods. “Where were you last night, Mrs. Ray?”

  Something small and sharp in the pit of my stomach tells me I might have relaxed too soon. “I had dinner with my cousin last night. We went to Ollie’s.”

  “Your cousin’s name?”

  I spell Jeannie’s name for her, leaving out the Fitzhugh, leaving out that she used to teach here. I have to catch myself from offering too much information, managing to supply just her name and the fact that she’s visiting. No more. I tell myself that if this is something they need to know, they can learn it themselves.

  “How late were you out?”

  Here’s where it starts to fall apart. Here’s where it can all go wrong because here’s where I don’t know what the truth is. I’m not about to tell Detective Hinton that I was hammered last night and woke up half-naked in the bathtub reading a family newsletter.

  “I don’t know. It was late. We sat around drinking for a while. You know, just catching up. Once we get started, we tend to talk on and on.” Something I’m trying very hard not to do just now.

  She smiles as she glances over her notes. “Yeah, my sister and I are the same way. Is your cousin staying with you, Mrs. Ray, in your apartment at Everly Place?”

  Nice switchback, I think. Friendly little mention of her sister followed by letting me know she already has my address. The police haven’t been on scene for five hours and they’ve already noted my address.

  “It’s Ms. Ray, Detective, and the answer is yes and no.” I match her friendly tone, keep it light. I give no sign that I’ve noticed her access to my information. “She’s staying with me but she’s also keeping a room at the Days Inn. My apartment’s a dump.”

  “I know.” She laughs softly. “I used to live in those apartments years ago. They were a dump then, too. Those are usually for students. Why do you live there? If you don’t mind my asking.”

  It’s a little late to worry about what I mind, don’t you think? “I moved here right after I took the job. There wasn’t much time to search for a place before the semester started. My plan was to just stay long enough to find a nicer place but then, you know, work started and bills started and it was just easier to stay put.”

  “Yeah.” She nods, tapping her fingers along the edge of her notebook. “It’s easy to get stuck, isn’t it? You make plans and you have the best intentions and then life just creeps in on you. You can’t get anything done. You can’t make things happen. It’s frustrating.”

  Before I can finish my ‘What are you going to do?’ shrug, she changes course.

  “Are you married, Ms. Ray?”

  “Widowed.” The word sounds so strange. I still can’t make it fit. It’s a word for women whose men went to war. It’s a word for women with bulky sweaters who knit and dust knick-knacks. Put the right color in front of it and it’s for a different type of woman altogether.

  “Were you dating Ellis Trachtenberg?”

  “No.”

  “Did you want to?”

  “No.” I think maybe I should have questioned that question, asked her what the hell she meant by that. My rapid answer suggests forethought, preparation for this line of questioning. Fuck it, I’m tired of this line of questioning. I’m tired of this day. I have no dog in this fight. I shouldn’t have to think this hard to tell the truth.

  “Can you think of any reason someone would kill Ellis Trachtenberg?”

  “No. From what I knew of him, he was a good man.”

  “But you didn’t want to go out with him.”

  Really? We’re doing this? I am only partially successful in keeping the anger out of my tone. “No, Detective. I didn’t want to go out with him. I don’t want to go out with anyone. My husband hasn’t been dead a year.”

  She nods again and puts her notebook away. She rises and thanks me for my time and gives me her card but I’m not listening. I’m hearing my words echo in my head. My husband hasn’t been dead a year? That’s not right.

  As of this morning, he’s been dead a year and a day.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Whatever compelled me to remain here has left. I’m going to find no shelter from my thoughts here anymore so I rise to follow Detective Hinton out of the office, but she holds up her hand to slow me down.

  Meredith and Officer Neighborgall are still talking. There’s nothing unusual about that—Meredith can make a conversation last. What is unusual, or at least worth noting, to my mind, is that, whatever they’re discussing, Detective Hinton considers it private. Maybe that’s just standard procedure, keeping witness statements discrete, but I don’t much care for police procedure, standard or not.

  We wait a few seconds, not much more than a minute, when we both see the body language in front of us change. Neighborgall shakes his head and Meredith laughs and everyone can tell that the interview is over. Hinton drops her hand and, like an obedient child in the crosswalk, I follow her into Meredith’s space.

  “So you tell Jodi to call me whenever she’s ready to start painting and I’ll be there.” Meredith bumps her fist on the desk for emphasis.

  Neighborgall shakes his head before replacing his hat. “I’ll tell her, but you know Jodi. She does her own thing her way and what I say makes absolutely no difference.”

  Meredith laughs. “It’s a good husband who recognizes that.”

  She’s still laughing as she pours herself some more coffee. She doesn’t see Neighborgall and Hinton share that silent pause-and-nod so common to partners.

  “Thank you both for your time.” Detective Hinton nods to each of us. “You have our cards. If you think of anything you might have forgotten to tell us, anything at all that you think might be relevant to the investigation, call us anytime.”

  “Of course,” Meredith says. “And of course if you have any more questions, don’t hesitate to ask us anything else. We’re always here.”

  Hinton gives her a small smile. “Aren’t the offices closing?”

  Meredith laughs again, like this is great fun for her. “Oh, that’s right! Well don’t worry. We’re not going to leave town or anything. Especially in this weather. We’re due another foot, they’re saying. Looks like we’re going to get a whole winter’s worth of snow this week.”

  Neighborgall adjusts his belt. “Well, you be safe out there. Don’t drive if you don’t have to. They’re clearing the roads now but who knows how it will get later.”

  “Loud and clear, Kenny,” Meredith says. So it’s Kenny for her. She tones down the cheer. “And good luck with this. I can’t believe this happened. If there’s anything we can do to help, please let us know. We all
liked Professor Trachtenberg so very much.”

  “We’ll do our best.” He opens the door and waves Detective Hinton through first. “We really appreciate your time, ladies.” Hinton just nods. Neighborgall is in charge of the niceties.

  He pulls the door shut behind them and we hear radios squawking and footsteps. I lean toward the glass, wanting to hear if they say anything, but Meredith interrupts my spying.

  “Whew! Two police visits in one day. What did they ask you?”

  “Nothing, really.” Nothing I feel like thinking about. “If I knew him, did I know any reason why someone would hurt him. I was pretty much useless to them.” I grab my coat from the rack and slip it on. I hear my keys jingle in my pocket. Thank god.

  Meredith watches me wrestle with my zipper. “I guess they have to talk to everyone. Can you imagine trying to solve a crime?” I give up on the zipper and start sorting out my wet-mitten situation. She watches me like I’m interesting. “I mean, we see it on TV and we know how it’s going to go. Suspects are introduced and we can start narrowing it down, but what do the police do in real life? How do they narrow down an entire campus of people? And that’s not including the people Ellis knew outside of school. How do you narrow down a person’s entire life to find the one person who hated them enough to kill him?”

  I shrug and slip my hat on. “I have no idea. I’m glad I don’t have to do it.” She makes a little hmm sound, like she’s wondering what I’ll say next. I don’t keep her in suspense. “Well, I guess that’s all we can do today. I guess the offices will still be closed tomorrow, right? So I guess I’ll see you Friday.”

  She’s smiling at me. “Are you forgetting something?”

  There’s a question. She has no idea the things I plan on forgetting for the next forty-eight hours, but it’s a safe guess that’s not what she means.

  She nods toward my feet.

  “Shit.” I’m still wearing the house shoes she lent me. Meredith laughs as I peel off my mittens and hat. I’m already hot and I haven’t even zipped my jacket yet. A mitten gets tangled in my sleeve when I try to shed everything at once and I don’t see that Meredith has come around the desk to help me. She pulls the jacket free of my arms and takes the mitten from my fist. Before I can reach for my boots she grabs my shoulders and holds me at arm’s length.