Murder Most Studious

by L. M. Thornburg

  I trudge up to my apartment and drop my bag on the table. I change into yoga pants and a sweatshirt, then perch on the couch with my laptop. I had planned to come home and google Julia Schneider, but can’t seem to make my fingers type in her name.

  I keep going over the conversation with Freya. She looked so hurt when I said she was always in everyone’s business. I didn’t even mean it like that. I just meant that she always knows everything going on with everyone at school.

  Everything is crashing in on me. I can’t figure out anything about the murders, and now Freya is angry with me.

  I mope around my apartment feeling sorry for myself until I realize I won’t feel better until I talk to Freya and fix this. I know Cat said I should give her time to cool off, but I think I should talk to her as soon as possible.

  I walk down the hall to her apartment and knock on the door, bracing myself for Freya to be furious still. But when she opens the door, I see tear tracks down her face and she’s holding a balled up tissue.

  “Freya, I’m so, so sorry. I did not mean to hurt your feelings. Everything I said came out wrong. I don’t think you’re a busy-body at all. You’re always very helpful,” I say, rushing through before she can say anything.

  “No, it’s my fault. I was already upset, and I took it out on you. Come here,” she says, enveloping me in a hug. “Come sit and chat a bit.”

  I sit down on Freya’s small sofa and she hands me a cup of tea. Then she sits across from me in an armchair.

  “I just want to explain why I said what I said earlier,” I say.

  “It’s okay. There’s no need. I’m not upset with you.”

  “I’m glad, but I still want you to know I was only trying to say you always know what’s going on around here, not that you stick your nose in other people’s business. You are always helping everyone and you’re not nosy at all. The murders are putting me on edge and I’m worrying about being fired because the police keep questioning me and Ms. Bowerton hinted at letting me go if things continue with the police. It just came out wrong when I was asking about the headmistress.”

  “I understand. Asking me about my conversation with the headmistress set me off, not being called nosy. My Gran is very sick, and I was asking for time off to visit her, but Ms. Bowerton won’t allow it. Says I’ve used that excuse one too many times. My mum is angry with me because I can’t get there and I’m afraid I might never see my Gran again,” Freya says with a teary hiccup.

  “Oh, Freya. I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?” I ask.

  “No, I’ll just have to wait until the weekend, then pop down for a quick visit. There’s nothing else to be done.”

  Freya and I sip our tea and talk about our families. My grandparents all passed away a few years back, but I still have fond memories of visiting them. I hope Freya gets to visit her Gran many more times. I don’t understand why Ms. Bowerton is being so harsh about it. I thought she was a more understanding headmistress than that.

  By the time I get back to my apartment, life seems brighter. I’m glad I went to see Freya and apologized. She is a lovely friend, and I hated upsetting her. She has been so welcoming and kind from the moment I arrived at Ashbourne.

  I consider heating up some leftovers for dinner, but decide to walk over to the dining hall and pick something up. I’m halfway down the stairs when I turn around to go back to my apartment and grab a jacket. Once the sun begins to set, it can cool off quickly.

  As soon as I step outside, I see Dottie Green heading toward the dining hall. She’s walking alone, and I notice she’s wearing the peculiarly patterned scarf. I decide now might be the perfect time to find out more about her. I speed up until I’m alongside her, so I can introduce myself.

  “Hi, I’m Alice. We haven’t officially met yet, but I’m trying to get to know all the other professors, so I thought I’d say hi.” I give her a big, friendly smile. She gives me a small smile in return. She’s pale and I notice her eyes are red.

  “Hi, Alice. I’m Dottie. Dottie Green. It’s lovely to meet you,” she’s says in a soft voice.

  “How long have you been teaching here?”

  “This is my third year. Are you enjoying your time here so far?”

  “Mostly, except for the deaths,” I say in a low voice, watching her face. She winces and I say, “It’s been… upsetting.”

  She mumbles her agreement, but doesn’t say anything else. I’m uncertain if she thinks I’m being offensive talking about Brigg’s and Frank’s deaths, or if she’s too upset to say anything.

  I wait a few minutes before changing direction.

  “This is such an interesting pattern,” I say, pointing to her scarf. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  She gives a small, surprised laugh. “Thank you. I actually designed it myself. My family comes from the Isle of Wight. This pattern represents the flag, but I added the ghosts as a little joke because we also have a long history of hauntings on the Isle.”

  “That’s so interesting,” I say, then plow ahead. “Actually, I’ve just remembered, I saw the same pattern on a blanket in Frank Gibson’s house.”

  Dottie’s eyes grow wide and she almost trips over an uneven part of the sidewalk. I reach out a hand and steady her. I spot a bench and steer her over to sit down.

  “I’m not trying to upset you, but I was curious about the similar patterns.”

  “I might as well tell you. No one else knows but Ms. Bowerton. Frank Gibson is, or I guess, was my great uncle. He didn’t want me to tell anyone because he had this old-fashioned belief that being related to the caretaker would look bad for a professor. I wish with all my heart, I hadn’t listened to him. We could have spent so much more time together,” she says, while wiping away the tears running down her face. “He appeared gruff, but he was the most kind-hearted person.”

  “I didn’t talk to him very often, but he always seemed willing to help someone.”

  “Oh, he would! Uncle Frank was always willing to help. He talked Ms. Bowerton into hiring me and helped me move in. Even though he wanted to keep our relationship quiet, we still tried to have dinner together in his cottage once a week. And I knitted the blanket in the same pattern as my scarf for him last Christmas. I can’t believe he’s gone,” she says with a sob.

  I awkwardly pat her shoulder. I feel terrible for bringing all of this up with her. I suppose it’s possible that she’s an exceptional actress, but my instincts are telling me she’s just a grieving niece and not involved in Frank’s death. Which means she’s almost certainly not involved in Brigg’s death.

  After Dottie takes some deep breath and wipes her eyes, we walk the rest of the way to the dining hall together. She tells me more about her family and Frank. I share a little about my parents and brother. By the time I tell her goodbye and head back to my apartment with a sandwich, I’m glad I know her better. I’m also certain I can take her off my suspect list.

  Later, I’m making a cup of chamomile tea before bed, when I realize I’ve completely forgotten to look into Julie Schneider. After the argument with Freya and the conversation with Dottie, I forgot I had planned to do some digging into who she is.

  I’m not sure how to do this, though. Staff can look at students’ records, but they need a legitimate reason. I’m trying to come up with some excuse I can use when I realize I’m making this too hard. I can probably find out a lot just by searching on the internet. I’m sure Julie has multiple social media accounts like any teenage girl. And Schneider is not a common surname in the UK, so she shouldn’t be too difficult to track down. I hope.

  After about ten minutes of searching, I’m certain I’ve found her. Same name, same age, and she lists Ashbourne as her school. I comb through all the social media accounts she has that I can access, looking for names I recognize. Most of her friends are other girls that go to Ashbourne. I have a few of them in class, but that doesn’t help me.

  After searching for over an hour, I’ve learned that Julie
plays lacrosse, swims, and is extremely popular. She seems like a regular teenage girl, posing for selfies and laughing with her friends. I can’t figure out how to connect her to all of this unless she pushed Brigg off the tower to stop him from assaulting her. But why would he have her adoption papers? She’s like a puzzle piece that was thrown in the wrong box.

  I try looking up Professor Brigg in connection with Julie. Maybe that will turn something up. I don’t find anything that connects them, but there are quite a few hits for Brigg’s name.

  Apparently, he was involved in a scandal at a school called Finchley that he worked at before coming to Ashbourne. I click on one of the numerous articles and read about a student at Finchley that accused him of sexual harassment. There was a long, drawn-out investigation in which Brigg accused the girl of lying, continuously swearing to his innocence.

  After searching through more articles, I find out that there wasn’t enough evidence to do anything to Brigg, but the girl was so upset that she never came back to school.

  That poor girl. It’s obvious to me she wasn’t lying, and I never even met Brigg. How could the school let him get away with that? He didn’t even get fired. He left to become a professor here at Ashbourne. I don’t understand how he could get another job teaching after the scandal.

  I look through a few more articles about him and realize he and the headmistress both started at Ashbourne at almost the same time. Is it possible that Ms. Bowerton helped him get this job? She did completely dismiss Samantha’s complaints about him. Were Ms. Bowerton and Brigg having an affair?

  That seems unlikely from what I know of Ms. Bowerton. Although, for all I know, she could be very passionate, but she seems to be the sort of person who will do anything to prevent a scandal. And I just can’t believe she knew anything about Brigg’s past, otherwise how could she let him teach here? A wolf among sheep.

  None of what’s happened makes sense, especially not after Frank’s death. Brigg was a terrible person, so I can easily believe someone wished him harm, but not Frank. Whoever killed Brigg must have killed Frank, because he saw something or knew something about the murder. That could explain Frank’s death, but that still doesn’t tell me who killed him.

  I feel like I’m running around in circles, chasing my tail, and I don’t know how to stop. I consider talking to Ms. Bowerton about her relationship with Brigg, but immediately decide against it. I should probably steer clear of questioning my boss about whether she had an affair with a murdered teacher. My position here is precarious enough. I decide instead to see if I can find anything out from Mrs Ketzel tomorrow. She’s been at the school a long time. Maybe she can tell me something new.

  Chapter 18

  After my classes on Tuesday, I head straight for the library. Mrs Ketzel is not at her desk when I come in, so I sit down in a chair to wait. Originally, I tried to come up with a reason to ask about Brigg’s and Ms. Bowerton’s relationship, but then I decided maybe I didn’t need a reason. Mrs Ketzel seems to enjoy chatting, so I’m hoping she’ll just naturally want to talk about them.

  “Hello again, Alice,” Mrs Ketzel says, coming over to me. “Do you need help with something?”

  “I don’t actually need library help, but I was hoping you might share some information with me.”

  “If I’m able, certainly,” she says, sitting down across from me.

  “This will sound a little strange, but I’ve been doing some digging into Professor Brigg since I knew nothing about him before he died and I found quite a scandal,” I say.

  “Yes, I remember there was a big hullabaloo about him being hired here at Ashbourne. A few parents put up a big fuss. Threatened to pull their daughters out,” Mrs Ketzel says.

  “So what happened? Why did he get to stay?”

  “Well, Ms. Bowerton had just been hired as the new headmistress. Her hiring was also slightly scandalous, but only because of her age. At the time, she was one of the youngest headmistresses ever. She was a highly esteemed professor and had won several awards. Apparently she had offers from multiple schools to take over as headmistress. The Ashbourne school council was quite smug when she accepted their offer. She was the reason the council hired Brigg.”

  “I don’t understand,” I say.

  “I don’t know all the details, but apparently she insisted they hire him as well. I don’t know if they already knew each other or if there was something else going on, but she said she trusted him and that he was a brilliant professor. She promised he was innocent in the other scandal.”

  I’m stunned and don’t know what to say. Why would the headmistress be so adamant about Brigg getting hired? They must have some previous history that I haven’t been able to find.

  “Thank you so much, Mrs Ketzel. You’ve been extremely helpful,” I say, getting up to leave.

  “That’s what I’m here for,” she says, as she moves back to her desk.

  I take my time mulling over this additional information. I need to find what the connection between Brigg and Ms. Bowerton is. I go back to my apartment and begin researching the headmistress’s life. I write down where she was born, where she went to school and college, and any other places she worked.

  Then I go through and do the same thing with Brigg, trying to find any overlaps, but the only thing I find is a year when Ms. Bowerton was finishing up her degree and Brigg was teaching at a nearby school. Maybe they met during that time and got to know each other? Had a torrid affair? I just don’t know.

  * * * * *

  By the time I get up the next morning, bleary-eyed and exhausted, I’m no closer to figuring anything out.

  I take a long shower and drink a cup of coffee, attempting to dislodge some of the cobwebs that have nestled in my head. I decide to get breakfast at the dining hall. A walk will help me wake up and my cupboards are pretty bare.

  I grab a coat and head out the door. It’s a chilly October morning with a bite in the air. I walk briskly to warm up, lost in my own thoughts about the headmistress. I look up in time to see two students a few paces in front of me. I move to the side to pass them, but then I slow my pace. One of their voices is familiar. I listen for a few moments, but then I’m certain. It’s the girl I overheard weeks ago.

  “Good morning,” I say, moving to walk beside the two girls.

  “Good morning miss,” they both say, and when they turn to look at me I see that the girl I’ve been looking for and Julie Schneider are the same person.

  I completely stop walking for a moment I’m so shocked. The girls also stop and stare at me, surprised.

  “Are you okay?” Julie asks.

  “Sorry, girls. I didn’t mean to startle you. I thought I left my id, but here it is in my pocket,” I say, showing them my id. “I thought I was going to have to run back and get it.”

  “If you forget your id, you can just tell the staff your id number and they’ll let you go through the line,” Julie says smiling at me. “I forget mine all the time.”

  “That’s good to know. Thanks, girls. I hope you have a lovely day.”

  “You too,” they say before walking into the dining hall. I stand outside for a few moments until my heart has stopped racing. I go through the breakfast line, grabbing things at random, then find an empty table at the back of the hall.

  My head is spinning. Julie is the girl I spent weeks looking for. Which means Brigg may have done something to her and he has her adoption papers for some reason. Did Julie kill Brigg to get him to leave her alone? Did she go to the headmistress, but she wouldn’t do anything to help, just like she wouldn’t help Samantha, so she pushed him off the tower? And what about Frank?

  But that still doesn’t explain why Brigg had a copy of the adoption papers or why a sensible woman like Ms. Bowerton would fight to get Brigg hired here.

  When I’m not teaching, I spend all of my time trying to figure out how I can get a look at Julie Schneider’s school records. I hope there will be something in them that will help me connect all of
this.

  It turns out to be surprisingly easy. The school secretary, Mrs. McConner, goes out for a twenty-minute walk every day over lunch and never locks her office, which I find out from Freya. (I didn’t ask how or why Freya knows this. And she didn’t ask me why I needed to know.)

  As a teacher, I could just ask to see Julie’s records, but I don’t want to deal with Mrs. McConner’s questions, and I don’t want it to get back to Ms. Bowerton. I don’t have Julie in any classes, so it would seem strange. So, instead, I just slip into her office over lunch, find the correct file, put it in my bag and leave. I plan on reading it tonight and putting it back tomorrow. Easy. But morally questionable along with a few other things I’ve done lately to try to clear my name. I never would have even considered doing something like this before becoming a murder suspect.

  I feel guilty throughout my afternoon classes. I keep looking at my bag, even putting my hand in to make sure the file is still there. My bag hasn’t left my sight, so this is completely irrational of me, but I can’t stop myself.

  As soon as class is over, I quickly straighten up my classroom and get things ready for tomorrow. I grab my coat and bag, then close my classroom door behind me as I leave.

  Freya is waiting in the hallway for me, and we walk back together, discussing our classes. By the time I’m alone in my apartment, my hand hurts from gripping my bag so tightly. I take the file out and place it safely on my table, then methodically work my way through it.

  Julie Schneider seems to be the perfect student. Her grades at Ashbourne are stellar and she hasn’t ever been disciplined for anything. Her historical grades show she’s always done well and worked hard. She’s given a scholarship every year to Ashbourne that’s awarded by the school council, although interestingly, Ms. Bowerton always submits it.

  I don’t find anything alarming in her health records. Her family health history is unknown because she was adopted, but she appears healthy. Except for occasional nose bleeds, which she seems to go to the nurse for a few times a month.