Doom With a View

by Victoria Laurie

  “Where does Michael attend college?”

  “Chicago State University,” Candice replied, her eyes intent on the screen of her iPhone. “I was up half the night getting as much as I could on him.”

  “Anything juicy?”

  “Nada,” she said with a sigh. “The kid’s a brainiac. Going for dual degrees in biology and chemical engineering. He’s a straight A student, tutors on the side, and at the tender age of eighteen is already two grades ahead of most of his classmates.”

  “Wow,” I said, impressed.

  “He’s also a member of Mensa.”

  “So he’s stupid,” I deadpanned.

  Candice laughed. “A real dumb ass,” she agreed with a chuckle. “I used to hate kids like Derby when I was in school. They always ruined the curve for the rest of us.”

  “What about the father?” I asked. “Did you get anything on him?”

  To this question Candice’s eyes lit up. “Matthew Derby is one of those oily politicians we all love to hate. He’s had a variety of scandals hit his time in office, and the guy has managed to dodge most of them.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well,” Candice said, putting down her iPhone to fill me in, “the first scandal was back when Michael was just six years old and the senator was in his second term in the Illinois state legislature. It seems that his wife of ten years was a little fragile—mentally speaking—and there were rumors of her popping pills and having a nervous breakdown, when the Chicago Sun-Times broke the news that one of the secretaries in the senator’s office claimed he was having a torrid affair with an intern. Both the senator and the intern publicly denied the affair—”

  “Surprise, surprise,” I interrupted.

  Candice chuckled. “I know, right? Anyway, the press wouldn’t let go of it. The intern was a knockout and barely out of high school, and the senator was a good-looking guy who had campaigned hard on family values and appeared to stand stoically by his mentally fragile wife.”

  “Lemme guess,” I said, eyeing her. “The wife filed shortly thereafter.”

  Candice looked at me in surprise. “No,” she said, her eyes big as they regarded me. “And I’m surprised you’re so far off the mark. She committed suicide.”

  My jaw dropped and the car swerved slightly. Candice made a squeaking noise as I barely avoided a guardrail. “Sorry!” I said, focusing my eyes firmly forward again. “And I’m surprised that I missed that too,” I said after a small pause. I hate it when I’m wrong.

  “Anyway,” Candice continued after she’d recovered from the fright I’d given her, “as you can imagine, the press went crazy. Instead of backing off, like they should have, they blamed the senator, alluding that his wife’s death was his fault because of the affair. And to make matters worse, one particular reporter was caught at the fence of little Michael’s playground asking him if his daddy had ever mentioned having a girlfriend and how he felt about his mommy being so sad that she’d killed herself.”

  “Are you kidding me?!” I gasped.

  Candice shook her head ruefully. “Unfortunately, I’m not.”

  “Whoa,” was all I could think to say as my mind drifted back to Professor Houghton and what a scum he was to suggest to future reporters that they go for the jugular.

  “I know, it’s totally despicable!” Candice lamented. “But it actually worked in Derby’s favor in the next election. When the school told not only the competing paper what had happened but a local news station as well, the public outcry of what that reporter did was unbelievable. He was fired from his post and Derby won his reelection by a landslide and has been something of a sympathetic character in the public eye ever since. The guy can do no wrong.”

  “And I’m assuming he pushes that license to the limit?” I asked, knowing there might be more that Candice had dug up.

  She shrugged. “I haven’t been able to find anything concrete,” she said, “but there are rumors out there that suggest Derby’s not the man of the people he claims to be.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well,” Candice said, digging through her briefcase to pull out her notebook, “there was a little talk three years ago about a vacation home he bought on Lake Michigan. It only set him back three hundred thousand.”

  “That’s a big chunk of change,” I said, not understanding the issue.

  “He sold it six months later for over a million,” she said.

  I whistled. “Nice turnaround.”

  “Exactly.When questioned about it, Derby said that he’d purchased the home from a contractor friend of his who was having cash flow issues, and his buddy had sold the home to Derby at a significant discount. The senator said that he hadn’t really wanted the extra house payment and was, and I quote here, ‘delighted and surprised’ to sell it later for a significant profit.”

  “Seven hundred thousand dollars would delight the hell out of me too,” I said.

  “And then there’s the fact that in his run for the U.S. Senate to capture the seat of a retiring senator, Derby handily won the election against the opposing party.”

  “Why is that so shocking?”

  “The candidate from the opposing party was a nobody. He had no social skills whatsoever, did very little campaigning, and basically handed Derby the seat.”

  “Huh,” I said. “How do you think that happened?”

  “I don’t know, but it’s weird, you know? Like in all of Illinois there wasn’t a better-qualified candidate to run against Derby? It just sounds like someone fixed the election.”

  “That is weird,” I agreed. “And do you know what else I think is weird?”

  “What?”

  “That of the four kids that hung out at that conference in Chicago two years ago, Michael is the only one who hasn’t gone missing.”

  Candice thought on that for a minute. “Maybe it has something to do with the fact that Leslie is still alive,” she said. “Maybe the killer won’t think about going after Michael until something changes with Leslie.”

  I nodded. “You really could be right,” I said, seeing her point.

  “It could also be that the killer only had a chance to glimpse the three who were abducted. Maybe when they were being observed, Michael wasn’t with them. Maybe he was having dinner with his dad or something.”

  “Another good point,” I conceded with a sigh. “I guess we won’t know until we talk to Michael. Which brings me to my next question.”

  “Yes?”

  “What’s the game plan?”

  Candice smiled. “Sorry, forgot to tell you that part. We’re heading to the University of Chicago to find Michael and persuade him to talk to us. We’re going to have to be pretty sneaky about it too,” she warned.

  My brow furrowed. “Why’s that?”

  “Because the FBI will likely have a security detail assigned to him for his own protection, so the task force may become all too aware of our snooping around if we’re not careful.”

  “And while Dutch may be okay with us interviewing Michael, the other guys on that task force won’t be so happy about it, so we’ll have to be careful not to rub their noses in it,” I said.

  Candice pointed a finger at me. “Exactly.”

  “What are we doing after we talk to Michael?”

  “Depending on your mood, I thought we might risk an interview with the senator.”

  “Why does that depend on my mood?” I asked.

  “Because I know that will get back to Dutch, and he’d be in the hot seat for it. So if you’re feeling like you don’t want to risk getting him into trouble, then we’ll skip it.”

  I grimaced. “Maybe we should skip it.”

  “Let’s talk to Michael first and see how you feel, but it’ll be your call,” Candice assured me.

  “Okay,” I said, already having a bad feeling about it.

  A few hours later we arrived in Chicago and I gritted my teeth against the heavy traffic as we slowly made our way over to Michael’s school. Glancin
g at the clock, I was glad Candice had suggested we bring a few extra pairs of clothes, as she suspected we might be in town longer than just the day.

  Once we made it onto the campus, it took a little while to find a parking space, but when I mentally handed our need for a slot over to my crew, we found one within about a minute. “You have good parking juju,” said Candice as we slid into the spot right in front of Michael’s dorm.

  “It’s the crew,” I said, tapping my temple.

  We got out and made our way into Michael’s dorm. The door was accessible only with a student ID, but Candice overcame this by waiting nonchalantly for a student to walk up and swipe his card, and once the student had entered, she grabbed the door before it closed.

  Once in the lobby, Candice consulted her notes and informed me Michael was on the first floor. We went through a double set of doors into a very dark hallway reverberating with loud music and the stench of stale beer. My feet made a crunching noise and I looked down to see the carpet littered with cereal, candy wrappers, and paper. “They don’t seem to think highly of cleanliness,” I muttered.

  “Did you when you were in school?” Candice asked.

  I thought back. “Not so much,” I conceded. “Still, I’d like to think I was a little neater than this.”

  We arrived at Michael’s door and Candice knocked loud enough to be heard over the noise in the hallway. The door was opened about fifteen seconds later by a short Asian young man with thick glasses and a pronounced overbite. “Hey there,” Candice said, flashing him a brilliant smile. “We’re looking for Michael Derby. Is he around?”

  The young man ogled her for a full minute before answering. “Michael’s not here. His dad’s out of town and he always stays at the house when the old man’s gone.”

  “Ah, I see,” Candice said, her voice dripping with sweetness. “He’s at the house on Greenwich, right?”

  The young man shrugged. “I guess,” he said. “I’ve never been there.”

  “Do you mind if we come in and talk to you for a little while?” she pressed.

  I could tell the young man felt a little uncomfortable. He was swallowing a lot and his eyes were large and unblinking. “Are you guys from the FBI?” he asked. From his mentioning it to us, it was obvious they’d beaten us here.

  Candice didn’t answer him directly, but hinted that he’d gotten it right by broadening her smile confidently and saying, “You’re very observant. I’ll bet not a lot gets by you, right?”

  To this the boy lifted the corners of his mouth and stepped aside. We entered the dimly lit dorm room to the smell of musty laundry. Once inside I looked around. It was an odd room even for two college boys. Hanging from the ceiling were several models that looked like the latticework of DNA. Yet more models of amazing complexity all but covered one of the desks.

  Dirty laundry nearly obscured one corner of the room, and on both unmade beds the linens weren’t tucked in at all, just mashed around to cover parts of the mattress. While taking in the room, I tried to keep my face as neutral as possible, especially since I noticed Michael’s roommate monitoring us carefully.

  “I’m so sorry,” said Candice as we entered, “but I don’t think I caught your name.”

  “Cheng,” he said, and I couldn’t tell if he meant that as his first or his last name.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Cheng,” Candice said warmly, sticking out her hand. “I’m Candice and this is Abby.”

  Cheng shook Candice’s hand awkwardly, giving it two hard pumps, then dropping it. And then he said, “I haven’t seen anyone suspicious.”

  Candice cocked her head slightly. “My associates asked you to keep your eye out for anyone acting suspiciously?”

  Cheng nodded.

  “Well, I’ll bet you’ve been quite diligent, Cheng. And how is Michael since they paid him a visit?”

  “I don’t know,” Cheng said. “He’s been staying at his house for the last two weeks.”

  “Does his father often go out of town?”

  “He’s in Washington a lot.”

  “And Michael always goes to his dad’s home when he’s not there?”

  Cheng nodded.

  “And no stranger has approached you about Michael’s whereabouts?”

  “Only you guys.”

  Candice smiled again, then changed subjects. “I hear Michael is very smart,” she said.

  Cheng shrugged. “I guess. He and I usually get the same grades.”

  “Well then, you must be very smart too.”

  Another shrug but this time with a blush.

  “Are you two close?”

  “Huh?”

  “Are you friends?”

  Cheng looked at her as if he didn’t understand her. “I dunno,” he said. “We’re roommates, so I guess so. I don’t really see him a lot. He’s at his house more than he’s here.”

  “Did Michael ever talk to you about friends he has at other schools?”

  Again Cheng looked confused. “Like who?”

  “Like maybe he talked about three other kids that he’d met at a conference. Kids who lived in different states?”

  Cheng clearly had no clue what Candice was talking about. “We don’t talk a lot about stuff like that,” he said.

  “What do you talk about?”

  “Chemistry and biology,” he said simply. “I mean, after that, what else is there?”

  I ducked my chin to hide a smile. In a double entendre kind of way I completely agreed with Cheng. “These models are really cool,” I said to him, indicating the DNA hanging from the ceiling.

  “Those are Michael’s,” he said. “He’s really got an eye for viruses.”

  I gave him a curious look. “Viruses?”

  Cheng nodded. “That one you’re standing next to is hantavirus. The one over there is Ebola.”

  “Ah,” I said, moving quickly away from the models. “Cool.”

  Candice took a conspicuous glance at her watch and said, “I think we’ve taken up enough of your time, Cheng. Thanks so much for talking to us.”

  “Sure,” Cheng said, swallowing nervously again.

  I waved as I passed him, but he dropped his eyes to the floor. Once Candice and I were out of hearing range, I said, “Nervous little nerd, wasn’t he?”

  “A little,” she agreed. “Wonder why.”

  We left campus and I followed the directions on the navigator over to the Derby residence. The house we pulled up to was impressive. It had to be at least six or seven thousand square feet in the colonial style with a light tan brick and a shade darker on the shutters. The landscaping was immaculate: every bush trimmed perfectly, not a leaf on the ground, and not a blade of grass out of place. The effect was slightly off-putting and unnatural, like looking at someone who’d gotten too much plastic surgery.

  We parked next to a bright blue Jeep Wrangler in the driveway and made our way to the front entrance. Candice rang the bell and we waited for someone to come to the door, but after about forty-five seconds no one had appeared. “Wonder if he’s home,” she muttered as she pushed the bell again.

  I sent my radar to investigate, and I felt sure someone wasn’t just home but watching us carefully. I stepped up to the door and said, “Michael, I know you’re in there. We need to talk with you, please.”

  Five seconds later the door opened a crack and one gray eye stared out at us. “Yeah?”

  Candice flashed both her PI badge and her brilliant smile and took command. “Good afternoon, Michael. I’m Candice Fusco and this is Abigail Cooper. I’m sure you’ve already received a visit from our associates at the FBI, but we were hoping to have a quick word or two with you.”

  The eye blinked before it swiveled a few times back and forth between Candice and me. Finally, Michael seemed to think it was okay, because he opened the door and let us inside.“Thank you,” Candice said, moving past him into the large entryway, which opened up to a huge staircase.

  Michael Derby was about five feet eight with dark b
lond hair and nice features. He was well groomed and clean shaven and nothing about him indicated that he might like spending time in the slovenly dorm room we’d just come from. “I gotta get to class soon,” he told us right before his cell phone went off with the awful sound of a metallic mariachi band.

  The poor boy quickly yanked his cell out of his pocket and pushed a button, silencing the phone. “Sorry,” he muttered, his cheeks reddening.

  “No worries,” Candice assured him before she got to the point. “We don’t want you to be late for your class, so I’ll keep it short. We know you’ve already talked to some of the agents at the bureau, and we know some of our questions will likely be the same as theirs, so I’ll keep it quick and not as redundant, okay?”

  Michael dipped his chin slightly and crossed his arms. The poor guy looked really nervous and scared.

  Candice began the interview by asking him about Leslie, Kyle, and Bianca. “We know that you four hung out at a conference two years ago.”

  “Yeah,” he said.

  “Did any of you keep in touch?”

  Michael shrugged. “Occasionally,” he said. “I mean, Bianca e-mailed me a couple of times right after the conference, but neither one of us really had time to keep it up.”

  I checked what Michael said against my radar, and was relieved to find he was telling us the truth.

  “Did anyone at the conference strike you as out of place or someone maybe who was a little too interested in the four of you?”

  Michael looked uneasy. “I dunno. Maybe.” Candice waited for him to elaborate and he added, “There was this creepy dude who sorta followed us around and kept listening in on our conversations.”

  “What conversations was he listening in on?” Candice asked, and I felt a chill go down my spine.

  “Mostly about where we liked to go on vacation,” Michael said. “Bianca liked to go to her mom’s cabin on some lake, and Kyle liked to go to the sand dunes and Leslie said she was going hiking someplace in Wisconsin soon, and right after she said that, this guy starts trying to tell us where he likes to go on vacation.”