Murder in the Arboretum (Cold Creek Book 2) Read online

  Chapter 14

  First thing in the morning, Kim and I stopped for breakfast before we went back to the College. Not surprisingly, the mess in my office hadn’t cleaned itself up. We grabbed the custodian’s big gray bucket-on-wheels and dragged it to my office. We did a quick but effective job of filling it with all the remaining cardboard and destroyed papers.

  Thankfully, anything that needed to be graded was locked up or in my bag at home. Most of the rest of the torn papers I could just print out again if needed. When we had everything in some semblance of order, we left, with plant in hand. We decided to go back to my house for lunch.

  Marty Cohn called Kim as we arrived at the house. About the same time, I got a text from Brett that he was leaving Richmond. He was on his way to Cold Creek. I texted with Brett while Kim talked with Marty. Kim told him about the notes, the vandalism of my office, and mentioned my run in at the Arboretum. After a pause, she invited him over.

  She hung up and explained, “Sheridan, we need to come up with a plan here. Another person might help with our brainstorming. He said it would be about an hour before he could get here.”

  I was not at all sure I was comfortable sharing with Marty. She had a point though. We did need a plan. About the time we finished our sandwiches and cleaned up, the doorbell rang. Kim let Marty in and the three of us gathered in the living room. I made some coffee and served it along with coffeecake.

  After a bit of small talk, Marty asked if we could go through all that happened with him. Kim handed him the envelope with the notes for a start, with the one referring to “Dr. H” on top. He shook his head and looked a bit concerned at that one, but almost seemed relieved at the others. After a comment about artwork and basketballs, he put all the slips of paper back in the envelope. He no sooner asked about the problem at the office and I heard Brett’s car.

  I met him at the door with a hug and a kiss. His warm reception chilled some when he heard voices from the living room. His eyebrows headed north as if to ask for an explanation. He dropped his bag in the hall as I pulled him into the living room.

  “Hi Kim,” he said with a nod in her direction. His face showed his confusion as he tried to figure out who Marty was.

  “Brett, this is Clive’s attorney, Marty Cohn. Marty, Brett McCann,” I interjected. I realized I wasn’t sure how to introduce Bret. I decided that the fact that he hadn’t rung the bell should speak for itself.

  “Nice to meet you Brett. I offered to talk with Kim and Sheridan about the problems yesterday,” Marty responded.

  “Yes,” Brett said, very slowly, his eyebrows doing another high climb. “Sheridan, how about you and I get more coffee from the kitchen? Anyone need a refill?”

  Marty looked sheepish and Kim looked like she wanted to hide. Neither indicated they needed their coffee refreshed. Brett and I went into the kitchen and I got him a cup of coffee. While I tried to be busy, he asked, “Problems? What’s going on Sheridan?”

  “Brett, just some annoyance kinds of things. I’m not sure they’re even all related. I wanted to call you, but this was your weekend with Madison. Anyway, Kim invited Marty here. Since we were about to go over them with Marty, can we just go back in there?” I pleaded.

  He nodded and gave me a hug. Coffee in hand, he nodded toward the living room. Marty and Kim were sitting pretty quiet. Marty cleared his throat and handed the note with “Dr. H” to Brett. “This is the one note that is at all concerning, Brett,” he explained.

  Brett’s face became stern after he read it. I knew he was thinking about the previous note. He asked, “What else?”

  “Of the notes? They mostly talk about not feeling safe on campus, some basketball doodles. Some mentioned drugs. Nothing that actually implicates Justin or why he might have been in the Arboretum,” Kim offered with a tentative smile.

  “Okay, I’ve got a feeling that was the tip of the iceberg,” Brett noted. He took a deep breath and asked, “What else?”

  I decided it was time for me to assert myself instead of letting Kim and Marty reveal the problems to Brett. “Last night, when I was at Kim’s for dinner, we got a call from College security that my office had been vandalized. Nothing was stolen, but whoever it was knocked everything off my desk and table. They also trashed the comment boxes that were there.”

  I could almost see the wheels turning in Brett’s mind as he tried to digest that. “How did they get in? Wasn’t the building locked? Why your office and nothing stolen?” He shook his head. Marty also looked a bit perplexed, so I guessed Kim hadn’t told him these details.

  “Officer Matthews agreed with us that it looked like the boxes were the motivation, except they were all empty. Ends up that the boxes all over campus had been trashed,” I explained, answering at least a few of the questions.

  “The security guy was a real piece of work. Apparently the building door was open and that was what prompted him to check inside. Sher’s was the only office broken into and the person who did this was very neat. He or she managed to pop the knob right out of the door,” Kim chimed in, her irritation with Malloy evident.

  Brett shook his head, while Marty just looked confused. “Certainly raises the question of what someone thought might have been in those boxes,” Marty suggested.

  “That’s a good point. What made the security guy a ‘piece of work’? Did he say anything that seemed off?” Brett asked.

  “Not really. He didn’t want to call the police. He said it was just vandalism and I must have made some student angry. He wasn’t happy when we insisted,” I explained. “Officer Matthews wasn’t all that thrilled with him either.”

  Brett looked at me and asked, “Anything else?”

  I hesitated before I spoke and made a point of saying I wasn’t sure it was even related. Then I told Brett and Marty about my interaction with the group in the Arboretum. When I finished Marty looked pensive. Brett asked me lots of questions about the four men and the woman I’d seen.

  I could give the best description of the leader. His beady intense eyes had made an impression on me. He hadn’t called me by name and didn’t seem to know who I was. I was pretty sure no one had followed me to my car. It could have just been some other nefarious activity, not related to Justin Blake at all. That was my story and I was sticking to it.

  We all chatted for a bit after that. I don’t know if it was Brett putting his arm around me or what, but Kim made a big deal of needing to get on back to her own house. Brett thanked her for staying with me. We both thanked Marty for coming over as they left. Then Brett wrapped me in his arms. I felt warm and protected.

  Charlie decided she wanted in on the action and began pawing at us both. We decided to take her for a walk. While we walked, Brett told me about his weekend with Madison. As usual, his description of what they did and her responses always made me smile. He complained one minute about her changing mood and then laughed at the comments she made the next.

  He lamented that he didn’t know a singer or actor or television show popular with the teens. Brett was up on Toby Keith or Faith Hill, but he had no clue about Justin Bieber, Selena Gomez, or Miley Cyrus or other faves among the teen set. He chuckled and shook his head simultaneously as he talked about her not wanting to talk one minute and then telling him what was bothering her the next. Not surprisingly, one such topic was boys.

  “I only vaguely remember being 13, Sher, and besides, I was a 13-year-old boy! I know that kids call it ‘dating’ when they aren’t exactly going anywhere on a date. I remember when ID bracelets were big. A guy would give a girl his ID bracelet to wear one day, and then ‘break up’ the next and give it to someone else,” he said almost wistfully. “Do you remember that?”

  “Yeah, I think that lasted a few months or so in my junior high,” I answered. “It was very painful when the boy asked for his ID bracelet back and then you’d see some other girl with it on. I had one ‘boyfriend’ back then but I remember wondering what was wrong with me.”

  “It isn�
�t as concrete as ID bracelets now, but apparently the whole ‘dating’ and ‘breaking up’ thing is still alive and well in seventh graders. She started to say something about kissing and stopped. I am so not ready for this, Sher. It did give me an opening, though,” he said, his voice a bit softer.

  “An opening?” I asked not quite sure what he was getting at.

  “She talked about some boy that she likes – at least this week – and how he doesn’t seem to know she’s alive. Then in her usual mood shifts, she accused me of not having any idea what she was going through since I was an adult. So I asked her if it ever occurred to her that I might date someone.”

  “What did she say?” I asked with some trepidation.

  “She looked at me funny and then said something like, ‘Huh, never thought of that’. I asked her how she’d feel if I had a girlfriend. She said she didn’t know. I let it go and later she came into the den and asked me if I had a girlfriend. I told her I did and asked her if she wanted to know anything about my girlfriend. She said she didn’t know. She’d have to think about it. I figured I would just give her some time. She did ask about you just before I dropped her off at her mother’s house.”

  With increasing anxiety, I asked, “And how did that go?”

  He gave me a squeeze and said, “It went fine, Sher. She asked basic stuff like what did you do, what did you look like. I didn’t push and I didn’t ask about the two of you meeting. I want to give her time to get used to the idea. Does that make sense?”

  “That makes perfect sense! Are you sure you’re not the psychologist?” I asked. I felt very relieved that she wasn’t resentful, at least not as her first reaction. It was also good to realize I wasn’t having a panic attack this time when the topic came up.

  As we finished our walk with Charlie, we chatted about Madison and teens in general. Back at home, we sat in the kitchen with cups of coffee and the remaining coffeecake. It only took a few minutes before Brett’s demeanor changed and he was back in detective mode. It still was a bit uncomfortable that he could slip back and forth from boyfriend to detective so quickly. Maybe part of Madison’s changing moods was genetic and not just the teen-thing.

  Brett pulled his fingers through his curly hair and asked, “Sher, do you think you would recognize any of those guys from the Arboretum from a mug shot? Or give a good enough description for a sketch artist?”

  “I don’t know. I mean I can describe the lead guy pretty much, but all he’d have to do is shave and get a haircut and he’d look different. If the mug shot was clean-shaven, I might not recognize him. His eyes were intense, but I think part of that was the contrast of light eyes with all the dark beard and hair. Same eyes might not look so scary on a baby face, you know what I mean?” I rambled and was suddenly scared again.

  Brett squeezed my hand and said, “You’re right. Facial hair can change the way a man looks, even more than a woman’s hair color or cut. I have a mug book in the car. Are you willing to try? If you don’t recognize anyone, that’s okay. But if you do, we might just have a lead.”

  “Okay, I’ll try, but Brett, why didn’t you suggest this earlier?” I was a bit curious about his timing. After all, he knew he had the mug book when Marty and Kim were here.

  “I don’t know Marty Cohn, but I do know he’s Clive’s attorney. You made that a point in your introduction,” he explained. “I am no longer on the case officially, but I also don’t need to be working with the defense attorney, if you get my drift.”

  His voice and facial expression conveyed an unvoiced question and I answered, “I get it. There could be a conflict of interest or such. No problem.”

  Brett got up, rubbed my shoulder a bit and then went out to his car. A few tense minutes later, he came back in and put a binder in front of me. He filled our coffee cups and played with Charlie while I flipped through the pages. When I sighed at one point, Brett assured me there were lots more mug shots if nothing in that binder looked like a possibility.

  I wondered about this particular binder and what it represented, but didn’t ask. Somehow, without ever discussing it, we both respected that sometimes what our jobs entailed wasn’t open for discussion. About half-way through the binder, my “Hmmm” brought Brett to the table in anticipation.

  “This one here? Something about him seems familiar, but I can’t put my finger on it. If I cover up all but his eyes and imagine a lot of hair maybe he’s the leader guy. But even the whole face looks familiar and the eyes aren’t intense enough.” I shook my head and looked to Brett, like he could validate or refute that this was the guy.

  “Okay, Sher, good.” He pulled a post-it from his pocket and marked the number. “Keep looking in case you see anything else, okay?”

  He went into the living room and I could hear him going down the hall, probably to unpack his bag or use the bathroom. I didn’t see any other pictures that looked like the people in the park or anyone else for that matter. I sat and contemplated what it would mean or wouldn’t mean if the man I identified was the leader and a drug dealer. How was he connected to Justin Blake? For sure, if the man was a drug dealer, the Chief and prosecution would argue there was a connection and that was Clive’s motive. I shook my head as it all seemed so hopeless.

  The phone ringing shook me from my momentary melancholy. I could tell from caller ID it was my mother. That meant it was time for our weekly check in. As usual, she talked about her aches and pains, as well as any health issues my father had. Retired, sometimes it seemed like they didn’t have much else to think about. Their health took on more importance even if it wasn’t poor. After she talked about her health, she surprised me when she asked about that man I was seeing.

  Brett had come back to the kitchen and leaned on the door jamb as I talked about him. I assured her that I was still seeing the detective. I told her his name again which led to a discussion of whether he was Irish. I smiled at the phone and decided she must be lonely. My mother didn’t go out much and didn’t have a wide circle of friends.

  Our phone call usually lasted a few minutes so this was not typical. She kept asking questions and I kept answering. I felt my face flush though when she asked when she and my Dad would meet Bret. I answered very non-committedly, “Oh, you want to meet him. I don’t know when. I’ll have to discuss that with him.” She had some more comments, which didn’t register with my renewed anxiety, and then said goodbye.

  Brett chuckled and asked, “Are you okay?” The chuckle suggested that he didn’t quite realize the flush was from panic not embarrassment. That was a good thing.

  “I think so. As you heard, my mother … I don’t think we need to worry about it right now.” I didn’t get any further because Brett took me in his arms and just held me for a few minutes.

  “Relax, Sher. No rush and no pressure. We’ll see where it all takes us,” he whispered in my ear. We just stood there for a few more minutes and it felt so good. Then the phone rang again.

  It was my sister Kaylie. She was just about screaming in my ear and Brett shook his head in amazement. My mother had called Kaylie and somehow meeting Brett had become a contest. The question was who would meet him first, my parents or my sister. I figured it was only a matter of time before my brother joined the chorus, though I hadn’t heard from him in a few months. I pacified Kaylie and hung up.

  I was embarrassed to say the least and didn’t want to talk about it. Brett must have sensed that. With a smile, he simply said, “Let’s get some real food now that your calls are done. You better get a sweater though.”

  It was getting chilly so I got a sweater from the closet, and we set off for the Grill and dinner. During the short drive, I was able to get myself calmed down. I reassured myself that it was inevitable that my parents and sibs would want to meet Brett. Likewise, it made sense that sooner or later I’d meet Madison, as well as Brett’s parents and sibs. All in all, I felt much better by the time we reached the Grill. Self-talk is a good thing.

  We grabbed a booth and our u
sual waitress, Zoe, waved at us. Zoe was a good waitress and had a quick wit. She also didn’t mince words. She’d worked at the Grill since I’d come to Cold Creek and knew most of the adult goings-on. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the same pulse on the younger crowd.

  Brett and I talked a bit more about the notes and the vandalism of my office as we waited for her to come take our orders. We were about to pick up the conversation where we left off when Brett groaned and tilted his head. I turned my head, surely expecting it to be Max, and there was Wayne. He continued toward our table, with his usual smile.

  “Hello Sheridan. How are you holding up with another murder on campus?” Wayne didn’t acknowledge Brett verbally and barely looked at him.

  “I’m doing okay, Wayne. Just stopped here for some dinner with Brett.” For almost six months now I‘d been telling Wayne I wasn’t interested. The man still didn’t seem to get it.

  He started a bit at my abruptness and said, “I see. Umm, I’ll see you soon. You should have gotten the reminder to get your teeth cleaned.”

  I nodded and, after a brief hesitation, he walked away. Brett leaned back and smirked before he remarked, “Guess he doesn’t know about the new dentist, huh? Any connection between him and Blake? Maybe he killed Blake.” Brett grinned and I chuckled. Wayne was way too boring and two-dimensional to be a killer.

  Brett squeezed my hand as Zoe brought our food. “Well now, that man just doesn’t give up now, does he?” She shook her head and walked back to the kitchen. Brett and I both laughed and ate our dinner.

  Chapter 15

  As we were leaving, Brett started to say, “I want to stop at the College …” when Priscilla walked up to us and bristled, “So, did your little stunt work for you Sheridan? I heard that your office got trashed. Serves you right for sticking your nose into other people’s business.”

  She would have walked off, but Brett stopped her to ask, “What do you mean, ‘you heard’?” Detective demeanor in place, his tone was fierce and demanding. Priscilla obviously agreed.