Murder Most Studious

by L. M. Thornburg

  I take a breath, feeling as though I’ve been caught in a whirlwind. A friendly, fun whirlwind, but I still need to catch my breath. A part of me regrets agreeing to go to the pub. I should be getting to bed early and preparing for class on Monday, not drinking. But a louder, less responsible part thinks a night out getting to know some people is exactly what I need.

  * * * * *

  I spend the rest of the day working in my classroom and organizing my lesson plans. I’m looking forward to classes starting because I love teaching English. Books and writing are my life and I always hope to pass that love on to my students.

  After a quick makeup touchup, I’m trying to decide what to wear to the pub. Something casual, but put-together. This is my first time meeting Cat and Samantha, and going to the local pub. I decide on jeans, a navy sweater, and short boots. Freya knocks on my door at exactly seven and I’m immediately concerned I’m not dressed appropriately. She has on a short, red dress with boots that go over her knees.

  “Should I change into something dressier?” I ask.

  “No, you’re fine. I always dress up a bit when I go out, just in case the man of my dreams happens to stumble into our local pub. You just never know.”

  We walk downstairs to the sitting area, where two ladies are waiting for us. One is shorter with curly auburn hair, freckles across her nose, and a dimple in her cheeks. The other one is tall and willowy, with long, paper-straight, blonde hair. They’re both dressed in jeans.

  “Hello girls. Please meet Alice, who just arrived a few days ago. She will be teaching upper English. This is Samantha,” she says, pointing to the blonde. “And Cat.”

  “It’s so nice to meet you,” I say, shaking their hands.

  The four of us pile into Freya’s tiny car and she drives us the five miles into Hallewell. We drive through a few miles of forest, and then the landscape opens up to rolling farmland. There’s a small stream that curls beside the road. Just before we enter the village, we cross a stone bridge that the stream winds under. It’s incredibly beautiful.

  Hallewell is a small village hundreds of years old. The town seems to be made up of cobblestone streets and stone buildings. I try to look at everything while Freya finds a parking spot. I spot a tiny grocer, a barber shop, an inn, and a drugstore.

  The pub is in an ancient stone building that seems to have been added on to over the years. Inside is a large bar and a fireplace taking up almost an entire wall. There are two black labs lying on a blanket in front of it.

  We sit at a table, and order drinks and fries, or chips I should say. I try to follow the conversation, but it is a little difficult when you don’t know the people being talked about. Although, they are doing their best to include me.

  “So, what made you decide to take a job all the way over on our little island?” Freya asks.

  “Well, the primary reason is a broken heart. I don’t want to bore you with the details, so I’ll just say I dated a guy for years, thought we were heading towards marriage, but it turns out I was mistaken,” I say, knowing full well that I would not have shared this private story if I hadn’t had almost a full glass of wine.

  “Sorry, love. That stinks,” Freya says, patting my arm.

  “I’m beginning to see it was for the best. I shouldn’t be with someone that doesn’t want to be with me,” I say with a sad smile. “I spent months depressed and then a friend told me about the position at Ashbourne. Then everything just fell into place.”

  “But why here, particularly? Surely you didn’t need to move out of the US?” Samantha asks, curiosity all over her face.

  “Well, no. I’m sure I could have found a position in the US, but I love traveling. And my dad and I have been working on our Scottish ancestry. This puts me in a good position to do a little digging into our family history. And like most English professors, I have a dream of writing a novel. I thought living in another country might give me some inspiration.”

  “All good reasons. And we’re glad to have you here. It will be fun having an American on staff,” Freya says.

  “Yes. I want to know all about The Desperate Housewives,” Cat says in a dramatic voice.

  “She doesn’t know them personally,” Samantha says.

  “I know, but she’s much closer than we are,” Cat replies.

  I laugh, trying to answer as many of their questions about the reality TV show that I’ve never watched as I can. Thankfully, there’s a distraction.

  “Look who just walked in,” Cat says, nodding towards the door.

  I look over and see a man with glasses and greying hair, along with a tall, thin woman, dripping in jewelry and fur. She’s definitely overdressed for the pub.

  “Oh, great. Should we go somewhere else?” Samantha asks.

  “Absolutely not. We just ignore the arsehole,” Freya says, then turns to me. “That is Professor Simon Brigg in all his reptilian glory. He’s one of those people I was going to tell you to avoid.”

  “Yeah, he’s pretty nasty,” Cat says. “And I don’t say that lightly.”

  “And who’s the lady with him?” I ask.

  “That’s his wife. Although I do not understand how anyone could be married to that man,” Freya answers.

  I watch the couple as they sit down at a table across the room. He looks perfectly nice, which just goes to show that you can’t judge a book by its cover. I watch the couple for a few minutes, wondering why my three new friends seem to hate the man so much. Professor Brigg and his wife don’t seem to enjoy each other’s company that much, but otherwise, they seem fine.

  We keep talking and drinking. They tell me about other staff members. Who has been at the school the longest, who the best people to ask for help are, etc. The three of them are friendly and I’m feeling comfortable, although I notice Samantha has gotten quiet. They’re telling me a story about last year’s end of the year dinner, when we hear yelling from across the room.

  It’s Professor Brigg’s wife. Her face is red, and she’s screaming at him.

  “This is the last time! I will not put up with it anymore! I want you out!” she yells, then marches out of the door. Professor Brigg sits there for a moment, then slowly gets up to follow her. He turns back to the table for a moment and puts some money down, then he walks out the door.

  “That was dramatic,” I say. “What was that about?”

  “He probably cheated on her again,” Freya says. “He has a problem keeping it in his pants.”

  “I don’t know why he hasn’t been fired. He’s a terrible example for the girls,” Cat says.

  “He hasn’t been fired, because he’s an excellent professor,” Freya says sarcastically.

  “But a horrible person,” Samantha says.

  “Quite,” Freya and Cat say together.

  I know nothing about Professor Brigg, but the look on his face while his wife was screaming at him made me feel the smallest bit sorry for him. He didn’t look like a man who would cheat on his wife, he just looked pathetic.

  Chapter 3

  I wake up terribly early on the first day of class. It’s a combination of nerves and jet lag. I go for a quick run to relax a bit. I’m sufficiently prepared for my classes and I’ve been teaching for a few years now, but I’m still always nervous for the first week, until I relax into the schedule and get to know my students.

  It’s brisk outside, and the sun is just barely coming over the horizon, but by the time I get back to my room, sweaty and out of breath, I feel one hundred percent better. I stretch, then shower and get dressed in the outfit I laid out the night before. I get out my notebook and scan through the day’s schedule, along with my to-do list, while I eat a quick breakfast.

  I’ve jotted down a few lines about my education and hobbies to share at the morning assembly, but it turns out I didn’t need to. Ms. Bowerton introduces me, gives a little background about me, and then the fire alarm accidentally goes off. I’m told this happens frequently, but it still causes some chaos, ending the ass
embly early. I’m relieved, however, not having to speak to the entire school on the first day.

  After the excitement of the fire alarm, I rush to my building so I’m sitting in my classroom, syllabuses on each desk by the time the bell rings for class. I only have four classes, but I’m expected to be available from 9:00 to 4:00 each day so that if any of the girls need extra help or have questions, they can visit me.

  My first day goes smoothly. Most of the girls are respectful and quiet. Of course, this is only the first week. I know from experience that everyone is usually on their best behavior the first few days until they feel you out. That’s why I always try to put out a no nonsense, but still caring vibe. I honestly enjoy teaching. It’s not just a paycheck to me.

  The week flies by. By the next Monday, I’ve settled into a routine and I feel I have adjusted to my new time zone. I’m still waking up early to run, though. It cooled down over the weekend and I debate putting a jacket on for this morning’s run, but I decide on just a hat and gloves, leaving the jacket at home.

  At the last moment, I put on my reflective vest because it’s still dark out. There are old-fashioned light fixtures along all the sidewalks, so I always feel safe running near the buildings, even when it’s dark outside. But today there are patches of thick fog, so I don’t want to take any chances.

  Despite the fog, it’s a beautiful morning. Not too cold. Here and there, I can see leaves beginning to change color. After a few minutes, I’ve settled into a comfortable pace. I relax and mentally go through what I’m teaching in each of my classes.

  What I’ll be teaching is the fundamental similarity between my job in the States and my job in the UK. I taught at a large public school in the US. There were no uniforms, all students went home at the end of the day, and there were never Saturday morning classes. I know my experience here will be extremely different, but I’ve heard that boarding schools can feel more like a large family.

  Most of the girls live in the dorms, but I know there are a few day schoolers. As I run past the large houses that the girls live in, I see they each have a flag out front depicting their house colors and mascot. Apparently, there are house competitions and awards given out.

  As I pass the bell tower, the fog is thick. There isn’t a light along here, and I trip over something, sprawling along the ground. I sit up, rubbing my knees and trying to see if my hands are bleeding. I’m mostly intact, so I get to my feet and that’s when I see what it is I’ve tripped over.

  There’s a person lying on the ground a couple of feet away. The person doesn’t move despite being run over, so I rush over to them. Did we trip over each other? I look down and see Professor Brigg staring up at me. It looks like there’s blood seeping into the grass around his body, but it’s hard to tell with the fog.

  He isn’t moving, just staring. I can only assume he’s dead, but I take his pulse, just in case. I gag a little as I pick up his wrist, which feels stiff and cold in my hand. A button falls out of his hand. I pick it up and put it in my vest pocket without thinking. Then I concentrate on taking his pulse, but I can’t find one. I put my hand on his chest, then under his nose, but there’s no sign that he’s breathing.

  I sit back on the ground, trying to catch my breath and figure out what to do. I want to scream for help, but he’s past needing it. I’ve never even seen a dead body, much less tripped over one. I don’t have my cell phone, so I can’t call the local police. The bell tower is on the edge of campus and isn’t in use anymore, so I will have to jog over to another area. I just feel weird leaving the body here alone.

  I don’t seem to have any other choice, though. I head toward the dining hall. It’s one of the closer buildings and I know the staff will be inside, getting breakfast ready.

  As soon as I walk in, I’m hit with the smell of sausage and I think I’m going to be sick. I take a few steadying breaths before I not too hysterically tell the first person I see to call the police because there is a dead body on the lawn.

  Things escalate quickly from there. Someone calls the police. Someone sits me down with a cup of tea. Numerous and varied people ask me a lot of questions about what I saw, who it was, etc. I only give vague answers until the headmistress arrives. She waves everyone else away, sits down across from me, and questions me in her calm voice.

  “You seem the only one here that can tell me what is going on,” she begins. “The head cook called and said the police are on their way and that someone is dead. Can you explain to me what exactly is happening?”

  “I was out for a run and I tripped over a body. Professor Brigg. He’s dead. Outside,” I answer.

  “You’re sure he’s dead?” she asks, giving me a stern look.

  “Yes. I took his pulse. And he’s just staring at the sky. And there was a lot of blood. I probably shouldn’t have just left the body, but I don’t have my phone. Oh! The students might see the body,” I ramble on.

  “It’s okay. I’ve sent Frank and one of the kitchen staff to check on Professor Brigg. You appear to be in shock, Ms. Stewart. I want you to drink your tea and take some deep breaths. I’ll wait with you until the police get here.”

  After the police arrive, they question me. And question me. And question me again. They ask what the exact time I tripped over the body was, what position the body was in, and what I did before I found Brigg, and what I did after. I tell multiple police officers exactly what I did from the time I woke up until I arrived in the dining hall. It’s tedious.

  By the time they release me, my first two classes are over. I panic until I find out that all classes have been canceled for the day. They have taken the girls to the chapel and informed them that one of their professors has died and that all of their parents are being called so that if they want to pick their daughters up they can.

  The girls that remain on campus will be kept together, doing various activities until the police have finished going over the scene of Professor Brigg’s death. As I walk back to my apartment, I can see a line of girls tromping through the woods off in the distance. They’re probably glad to have a day off from classes.

  The first thing I do after locking my door is strip and take a scalding shower. I stay in too long and my skin is red by the time I get out, but I feel better. Less anxious. It is not a pleasant experience, finding a body.

  I make some coffee and I’m sitting on my sofa in my pajamas, sipping it, when someone knocks on my door. It’s Freya. Her hair is wrapped in a scarf and she’s wearing a long yellow dress with a blue cardigan.

  “I got here as soon as I could,” she exclaims, giving me a hug. “How are you feeling? I hope that’s tea you’re drinking. Nothing better to restore one’s nerves.”

  “It’s coffee, actually. Would you like some?”

  She wrinkles up her nose. “No, thank you. I’m strictly tea. Oh, you poor thing! Tell me everything.”

  We sit down in my tiny living room, and I tell her about finding Professor Brigg’s body and about being questioned by the police.

  “Poor you! Being questioned by the police just seems awful. Do they think it’s a suicide? That he jumped off of the bell tower?”

  “Well, they didn’t tell me anything. They only asked me questions. I don’t know. I guess suicide seems most likely.”

  “Although, I can’t think of anyone less likely to off himself. Professor Brigg is, was, the type of man that thought he was better than everyone else and that anyone he talked to was lucky he deigned to acknowledge their existence. He loved himself. There are plenty of people that hated him enough to kill him, though. Me, included.”

  “What?” I ask, glancing at Freya’s face. “Are you being serious?”

  “He was a real nasty man. I didn’t want to bring it up when we were at the pub because it would upset Samantha, but she had a real problem with him leaving his hands to himself for a while.”

  “That’s terrible. Why wasn’t he fired?”

  “She told us that after a few weeks of him relentlessly gropi
ng her, she considered talking to Mrs. Bowerton about it, but in the end decided she was too afraid it would cause problems. I don’t understand why. But Samantha was terrified of him. She started never going out anywhere alone and would barely leave her apartment. After a few months of this, he started leaving her alone. I personally felt like maybe he found someone else to harass.”

  “Poor Samantha. What a creep!” I say, feeling simultaneously guilty because the man’s dead, but also like the world might be better for it.

  “It was pretty awful. Samantha’s finally getting back to the way she was before. She used to be a bit of a party girl, but after everything that happened, she started keeping to herself and barely speaking. She even started dressing more conservatively.”

  I sip my coffee. “Well, it just all seems like a mess and I wish I hadn’t stepped in it.”

  “Not to be terribly gruesome, but was the body horrifying?”

  I think back to the scene from this morning. “No, actually. I thought he was just passed out at first, until I saw all the blood. And then his staring eyes,” I say, and shudder.

  “I’m sorry I asked. I don’t want to upset you. I’ve never seen a dead body before, except my great-grandmother at her funeral.”

  “I’ve been to plenty of funerals, but tripping over a dead body in the fog is something much different. It was so unexpected. I still can’t believe it really happened,” I shake my head, trying to dislodge the visual. “Have you heard if classes will resume tomorrow?”

  “I’m sure they will. We don’t want the girls getting too out of hand. A firm schedule is important,” she says, doing a descent impression of the headmistress.

  “I’m relieved. I would rather stay busy.”

  “I have baby-sitting duty soon, so I need to get going, but how about you come by my place for dinner? I’ll ask Cat and Samantha, too.”

  “That would be nice,” I say, smiling for the first time today.

  * * * * *

  I spend the afternoon trying to keep myself busy. I work on more lesson plans and call my parents. I don’t tell them what happened because I don’t want to worry them. They chatter away about what’s going on in their little seaside town in Connecticut, and it soothes me.