Murder in the Arboretum (Cold Creek Book 2) Page 4

  I’d expected them to be interested in the murder, but a few of the students seemed to be uncomfortable. After a few minutes, I went to my usual set of examples, beginning with the car that won’t start. My rather mundane examples seemed to settle nerves. For the last 15 minutes, we discussed a specific research topic. Today it was elevator behavior. If one person faced the wrong way, what might one hypothesize? How would we test that hypothesis?

  I dismissed class and again stopped at Georg’s. I sure hoped that Georg’s never ran out of coffee or went out of business. If it did, I would be in trouble. Back in my office with a fresh cup of coffee, I felt more drained than usual. Then I thought about Brett’s day. I checked my phone. He had texted, “Can you grab something for dinner?”

  I texted back a simple “k” and made sure I had everything ready for class in the morning, and finished grading all the quizzes so I wouldn’t need to take them home. No surprises there. The same ones aced it, and the same ones squeaked by with a passing grade. At least one or two would grumble when they got them back. I was putting everything together for Wednesday’s class when Terra stopped by looking like the cat that ate the canary.

  “Dr. Hendley, don’t you need to ask Ali something? Anything?” she asked with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

  I gathered that she wanted me to go ask Ali something, so I asked, “Now, Terra, do I need to ask this right this minute or do I have time to come up with something?”

  “Oh, you need to ask her something right away! You don’t want to waste any time. Be sure to ask about her plans for the weekend,” Terra answered and then bounced, rather than walked, on down the hall.

  A bit curious, I walked in the opposite direction, toward the main office. Ali was sitting at her desk. Nothing seemed to be any different. I stuck my head in her door, and asked, as innocently as possible, “So how goes it down this end of the hall this afternoon?”

  “Terra sent you down here, didn’t she?” she asked with a big smile. “Not exactly subtle you know.”

  “So do I have to guess, or are you going to tell me why I needed to come down here, Ali?” I answered, smiling back, my curiosity building.

  “Oh, she’s just making something out of nothing. You know how she is. Hirsch was here a little while ago. I finally gave in and agreed to have dinner with him on Friday. It’s no big deal. Maybe after we go to dinner, he will give up,” she answered.

  Officer Hirsch became smitten with her back in the fall. For the past six months he had surfaced regularly to ask her out. Always before, she had turned him down. Her smile and flush suggested the dinner might turn out to be more than just a means to make him go away.

  I asked the obvious question. “So what changed?”

  “I don’t know. It probably won’t amount to anything. It’s just dinner,” she said with a shrug. “At least Terra will stop bugging me about it.”

  I wasn’t too sure who she was trying to convince, but responded, “Well, have a good time. Just take it one date at a time. You never can tell.”

  After a slight pause, I opted to change the subject. “Heard any updates? I’ve been teaching most of the day.”

  “I haven’t heard much. Joe was by earlier. He’s frustrated by the lack of information. He said he heard the police were asking questions about the landscaping guy, Johnson.” With a huff, she added, “There certainly are a lot of rumors floating around.”

  “So far, nobody seems to have facts. Hopefully, that will be corrected soon. Anyway, I have to pick up dinner on my way home. Talk to you tomorrow.” With that I went back to my office, locked up, and drove over to the Chinese restaurant to get dinner to go.

  Chapter 7

  Brett’s car was already at the house when I pulled into the driveway. I walked in and put down the Chinese assortment of kung pao and broccoli beef. Charlie didn’t come running, so I headed for the back yard. Charlie ran up to greet me. As I stepped out onto the deck, Brett lifted his beer in salute. Brett is not a big drinker or a frequent drinker, so I knew it had not been a good day. He motioned with his head for me to join him on the glider.

  “Have a seat for a few, Sher. It’s been a long day,” he said, his tone reflecting his fatigue. I sat down and rubbed his hand. I was quiet and waited for him to talk.

  “I met the whole family. All I could think of as I watched their pain was how I would feel if it was Madison.” As he spoke of his 12-year-old daughter, he shook his head and took a swig of the beer.

  “His mother and father were in shock. I asked what Justin did for a living, if he was employed. They became defensive. They finally acknowledged he had gotten into some trouble at his last job and recently started a new job. Apparently someone his aunt knew helped him get that job.” He paused.

  I nodded, trying to be supportive. I knew he didn’t expect or want me to comment.

  “I asked if anyone knew why he would have been in the Arboretum seeing as he’s not a student here, doesn’t live in Cold Creek. They weren’t sure. They didn’t think he was friends with anyone here. They pointed out he was much older than most of the students here. He had taken a couple of classes at Central Virginia Community College in Lynchburg. They weren’t sure where his job was located. The main office was in Richmond, but he delivered papers or something to various locations. Maybe he was making a delivery or pickup of whatever. I tried to explain that anything they could tell me might help the doctor in trying to determine the cause of death and then how it happened.”

  With a flash of anger he continued, “Apparently, the good Chief told them it was likely foul play, so they didn’t understand the questions. I felt like I’d been set up. I explained it was necessary that we rule out any other possibilities as well.”

  The arm around me tensed during this last part. I could tell he was not impressed with how Chief Pfeiffe had handled the situation. He shook his head again and patted Charlie’s head, now resting in his lap.

  “I asked about any problems with drugs, the usual, and they got defensive again. They were pretty adamant that this was murder and Justin the innocent victim. You know what else? They told me they heard that the Chief was about to make an arrest or had already arrested someone! It would have been nice if he had bothered to fill me in.” Brett shook his head and looked toward the back yard, fighting to maintain some control.

  “So… did you talk to the Chief?” I asked with some hesitation.

  “I sure did. I have no clue why he didn’t just say it was murder to begin with. Justin Blake was shot in the head, up close and personal. When I let him know that I was a bit perturbed, he tried to explain it by saying that Justin had also been beat up, so it wasn’t clear if he died from the beating or the bullet wound.” Brett pulled his hand through his curly hair, thinking.

  I waited a few minutes, but my curiosity got the better of me, and I asked, “Has he made an arrest yet, then?”

  Brett stood up and made faces like he was ready to explode. His response dripped with sarcasm as he stated, “Well, you know, it usually is the person who finds the body …”

  I jumped up and yelled, “What?”

  Brett snickered and said, “Yup, Officer Matthews couldn’t get Johnson to say much when he drove him to his car yesterday, but noticed Johnson seemed a bit tense and kept looking at him ‘sideways’. The Chief was waiting on some information on Johnson before he arrested him. It seems that Clive Johnson was arrested for assault about 10 years ago. Somehow he got off with probation. The Chief is trying to get more information.”

  “But that’s ridiculous. Just because he happened to find the body? What about Nick? Is he an accomplice then?” I shouted.

  Brett sighed, shook his head. “Of course not. Nick is a student at Cold Creek after all. He comes from a good family. His being there is just coincidental.”

  I was utterly speechless and waved my arms as I shouted and stamped my foot, “You have to be kidding! That’s the stupidest, most ridiculous thing I ever heard!”

  Bre
tt nodded and finished his beer. “How about we eat whatever you brought home and then I’ll tell you about the rest of my day?”

  I smiled and squeezed his hand, and we went inside. As we chowed down on Chinese take-out, Brett explained that after leaving the station, he went back to the campus. He met Hirsh there because some of the students had found something in the creek. It appeared to be an empty box. It was being sent to the lab to see if there was any information to get from it, like what had been in it. He didn’t seem optimistic.

  After that, he and Officer Hirsch combed the area, but didn’t find anything that seemed related, just some trash. They were going to continue to look for anything that might be important, including the gun. Hirsch confided in him that the Chief liked Johnson for the murder mostly because it would take the pressure off the College and the community. A simple solution.

  We cleaned up the take-out and took Charlie for a quick walk before settling down to watch television. With March Madness in full swing, our choice was old movies or basketball games. Brett found a police drama we both liked. While cuddling on the couch, I broached the subject of helping Kim out with her blind date. He groaned loudly.

  I explained that it just meant that we would ‘happen’ to be at the same restaurant. Kim would drive herself and we would just eat our meal. At some point, she would go to the ladies room and I would follow her. She would have made a decision at that point as to whether she wanted us to run interference or if we could take off.

  I could tell he was not real comfortable with the idea, but he agreed. He pointed out that the coming weekend was his weekend with Madison so it would have to be Thursday night. Before he could change his mind, I hurried to call her and let her know that she could plan her “date”.

  As I curled up with Brett and Charlie on the couch, Brett asked with arched eyebrows, “So just how many of these match dates did you go on?”

  Feeling a bit awkward, I answered, “The first time we tried, we each had two dates. We alternated so that one of us could be the backup for the other. The second time, I gave up after the first match I met.” I sighed and he grinned.

  “So just what warrants backup or interference?” he asked, still grinning.

  “Well, basically, it is a ‘better-safe-than-sorry’ thing. The first one, the guy kept holding my hand, while he told me how much money he made, criticized what I was wearing as not being of the highest designer quality, and chastised the people at the next table for their bad manners.”

  Catching Brett’s eyebrows going up in question, I explained, “Yes, the man with the worst manners was honing in on the other people’s dinner. Did I mention he didn’t know them? He proceeded to instruct them on the correct way to eat whatever they were eating. I can’t remember what it was. Told them they ordered the wrong wine to go with it. I just wanted to crawl as far under the table as I could.”

  I continued with the story. “After telling Kim I needed to get rid of him, I complained of a headache. Kim feigned surprise at seeing me, asked how I was, and so on. When I said I had a headache and was calling it an early night, she offered to follow me home so he didn’t have to. Believe me, we drove around the block and back tracked for a bit to make sure we weren’t being followed before coming back to Cold Creek. I don’t think he was dangerous, just rude, but better safe than sorry.”

  Shaking his head, Brett asked, “So were any of these matches basically normal men?”

  “Hmm, I met one man who was all right. He admitted that he had checked what interested him based on what he thought would yield the most matches. Ended up, he was nice enough, but we didn’t share the same interests.”

  I paused, and he just waited. So I continued, “Kim met John through one match site. They chatted via Skype a few times before meeting. His downfall was that he was almost as exciting as Wayne! And, there was one other guy that she met who was okay, but he was pretty hung up on the fact that she was educated.”

  He looked confused. “Didn’t these guys know that you had doctorates and were psychologists?”

  “Neither of us ever indicated what our degree was or what it was in. We just indicated graduate school. We also didn’t indicate on the site that we were psychologists. Can you imagine who that would have attracted? With John, the boring one, after they met and Kim thought maybe he was okay, she did tell him. He just kept talking about his accounting. The other guy kind of freaked with the ‘doctorate’ thing and didn’t call her after that. We wondered if perhaps while she had downplayed her education, maybe he had exaggerated his a bit. Didn’t you ever try any of these sites?” I asked, curious at all his questions.

  “Nope. And listening to this, I am damn glad I didn’t. Friends were always coming up with someone I should meet. I occasionally did the blind date thing. It was always a bit awkward, but nothing like you’ve described. I have to tell you, and I don’t know if it’s a good thing or bad, but I never gave much thought to your degree. I guess if someone had said, ‘I have this psychologist I want you to meet’ I might have balked. But that is just part of who you are, and it hasn’t bothered me,” he added, looking very thoughtful.

  “We did meet under very different circumstances, not a match or a fix up. I’m not sure I ever thought of myself with a state trooper either,” I added with a smile.

  We had met while he investigated the murder of one of my colleagues the previous fall. Not the most romantic means of introduction. All the same, we both had felt the chemistry.

  His answer to my comment was to hold me closer and kiss me and keep kissing me. Nothing boring about Brett or chemistry.

  Chapter 8

  Next morning I went to work while Brett drove to the other side of North Shore to work on his other case, at least for the day. He said he had to check on some information and get some work done, but that he’d be in touch. I made my way to my office, grabbed what I needed, got my coffee, and was off to class. Same routine every day.

  Walking into the room, the students were quieter than usual, with a tense edge to the quiet. I had expected that they would be abuzz about Justin Blake. So much for my expectations. I passed back the quizzes and tried to get a handle on what was causing the tension.

  I noticed a couple of students looking toward the same two or three students, as if waiting for something to happen. One of them I had categorized to myself as arrogant and self-absorbed, born with the proverbial silver spoon. That would be Brendon Whitfield. His father was on the Board of Trustees and an attorney. His father’s position in the community fed his self-righteousness.

  The other one who seemed to be involved was pretty quiet most of the time and a scholarship student. In fact, if I didn’t have to know their names to return quizzes, I probably wouldn’t notice Dirk Muldoon. He was so completely different from Brendon. Dirk was one of the few scholarship students at Cold Creek College. He was motivated and hard-working; his shirts didn’t have the branding of Brendon’s.

  Once I finished giving back the quizzes, I made my way to the front of the room. I intentionally took my time getting my presentation up on the projector. On most days, this would have been an invitation for conversation to occur, but not today. Everyone was very quiet.

  “Good morning. Anyone remember what the topic is for today?” I asked, purposely using a form of “memory” in the question and expecting at least a few groans. I got a very few.

  “Okay, we are going to talk more about memory and learning, but first, does anyone have any questions?”

  Everyone was quiet. Obviously, today nobody felt like talking. I moved on to my lecture and before long, class was over. I again asked if there were any questions. I should have remembered to be careful of what I asked for.

  A single student, Deedee raised her hand. I nodded to her and she asked, with obvious hesitation, “Dr. Hendley, I know this doesn’t have much to do with memory but … well, there seem to be some differences of opinion …”

  After a pause and a gulp of air, she continued, “Dr. Hen
dley, you knew a lot about the murder in the fall. Do you know why Justin Blake was killed? Who did it?”

  I waited a minute to respond. After some seat shifting and discomfort set in, I shifted gears. “You all know that a person died here on campus earlier this week. I presume some or all of you heard that his death was not an accident, not suicide.”

  Taking a deep breath, I continued, “In truth, at this point, no one knows why he was killed. The police are still investigating. They are trying to figure it out, but it is never that simple. They have made an arrest, but remember in this country someone is innocent until they are proven guilty. Trying to feel safe from a perceived danger, we often come up with explanations that ‘free’ us and blame others, sometimes even the victim. Until the police finish their job, what we all need to do is be a little more responsible about our own safety.”

  I continued for a few minutes, reminded them that if they wanted to talk to someone that Kim, Mitch and I were available. I also told them that if they had any information about why Justin might have been in the Arboretum at night, it was important to get that information to the police.

  As class ended, I noted a few students clapping Deedee on the arm or shoulder, thanking her for speaking up when no one else would. I also noted that there was not much interaction with Brendon or Dirk other than not so friendly looks between them.

  It probably wasn’t my place, but sometimes the clinician in me gets the better of my good judgment. I called to them both and asked to speak to them. They came down front, from opposite sides of the room. Problem was, I didn’t have a clear plan on what to say to them. So I winged it.

  “Brendon, Dirk, maybe you didn’t know Justin Blake, or maybe you did, but when violence comes to a community, there is a tendency for contagion. Everyone is just a little more touchy, a little more likely to say things they might not have said otherwise.”