Murder to Go

by Brenda Donelan

  “If you’re still trying to get me to help you, then you’re going about it all wrong,” Marlee hissed at Ira Green as she leaned across the table and glared at him. She held his stare for what felt like hours before he broke his gaze and looked down at the table top.

  Green nodded. Marlee guessed the nod was not so much about his agreement, but more out of realizing he needed to fine tune his tactics with her.

  “If you didn’t hurt Roxie, then who did?” Marlee asked.

  “It wasn’t me. I swear on my dear mother’s grave. It wasn’t me,” Green said with as much sincerity as she’d ever seen from him.

  “Well, then who would hurt her? Who had something to gain by killing Roxie?”

  “I have no idea. She never said anything to me these past few weeks about being threatened or feeling scared.”

  “Do you know how Roxie was killed?” Marlee asked.

  “No, I assumed she was strangled or suffocated.”

  “Nope. She was poisoned.” Marlee watched Green’s reaction and there was none. He remained stone faced.

  “What kind of poison?”

  “We don’t know the particulars yet like the type of poison or the method of delivery. The autopsy showed poisoning, but further testing was needed to determine the rest,” Marlee said, not ready to fill Green in on everything she knew or suspected about the poison. There was still no reaction from the former dean. “So my big question for you is; what exactly did you want me to help you with?”

  “The cops are trying to find me so they can ask questions. When they hear how I knew Roxie, they’ll suspect me for sure. I didn’t do anything to her. I just tried to talk to her about recanting her sexual harassment claim against me. But the police will assume since I was one of the last people to have contact with her and since I had a beef with her that I killed her. I’m not going to prison for something I didn’t do!”

  “Maybe you should get a lawyer and see if he or she can help you with this. I can’t help you hide and I’ll have to tell Detective Ramos that we spoke,” Marlee said.

  “I don’t have the fucking money for another lawyer! All these lawsuits have cleaned me out. Plus, there’s a lien on what little property I do have. I’m nearly bankrupt.” Either Ira Green was a fantastic actor or he was being sincere. He was a manipulator and made a life out of using and abusing people. Still, his story of financial ruin had a ring of truth to it given what she knew of his past and his current situation.

  “Again, I’m not going to do anything illegal like hide you or lie to the police about seeing you. I’m sure I’ll be in hot water already for meeting you here.”

  “I just want you to ask around. Ask some of the students in your class about Roxie,” Green said.

  “I’ve talked to all of them and no one knows much of anything about Roxie. Why would this help in any way?” Marlee was puzzled.

  Ira Green let out a loud sigh. “Because Roxie is the mother of one of the students in your class. And I’m the father.”

  Here’s a toast to those who are lost. May you be found and returned home.

  Chapter 15

  “What the hell?” Marlee was gob smacked. Never in a million years had she seen this coming. “How long have you known?”

  “Not long,” Ira Green stated. Marlee could feel the deception rolling off him while he talked. “This whole matter just came to my attention recently.”

  “How recently? And is that what brought you to South Dakota in the first place?”

  “I gotta go. My car’s been in the lot too long and I’m sure your cop friend had an APB put out on me. Cops tend to eat early breakfasts at places like these, so I need to roll. Here’s my cell number,” he said thrusting a folded piece of paper her way as he exited the booth. “We’ll be in touch.”

  The former dean was out of the restaurant in seconds, leaving Marlee at the table, slack-jawed and wondering what to do next. She thought about following Green, but he had driven to the restaurant while she walked from the motel a block away. By the time she was in her car, he would be long gone and Marlee had no idea which way he was going. After assessing the situation, she pulled her phone out of her purse and placed a call to Detective Ramos.

  “Ramos,” answered a groggy voice after the fourth ring.

  “Hector, it’s Marlee. Look, I just found out more information on the case. Do you want to meet me at Denny’s just down the block from the motel?” He agreed and joined her within ten minutes.

  “What’s up?” he asked, eyeing her in a quizzical fashion as he slid into the opposite side of the booth. He was wearing his same clothes from the night before and his hair was disheveled. A small blob of blue toothpaste clung to the corner of his mouth after a hasty brushing.

  “I just met with Ira Green,” she said, pausing for the detective’s reaction, but there was none, so she continued. “He’s afraid of being arrested for Roxie’s murder since he argued with her on Monday night and was probably the last person to see her alive. Plus, he said he knew Roxie back when she was a student at Keystone University and he was her professor. Ira Green said he was the father of the baby Roxie gave up for adoption! And the kicker is that he thinks the child they had together is in the Criminal Justice To Go class right now!”

  “Do you believe him?” Ramos asked, still showing no emotion.

  “Yes and no. He’s definitely spinning his stories to make himself seem like a good guy and doesn’t take much responsibility for any of the sexual harassment claims. He said his wife left him and that he’s nearly bankrupt because of all the past and pending lawsuits and lawyer fees. That part rings true. As far as he and Roxie having a child, I don’t know. I’m not sure why he would lie about that, but he might have some angle,” Marlee said.

  “How did this meeting between you two happen?” asked the detective. Marlee recounted the whole story for him, including Green asking her to help find out who really killed Roxie Harper so that he would no longer be a suspect.

  “Why didn’t you contact me right away?” Hector still did not display anger or any type of emotion.

  “Because he said he wanted to talk to me. I thought if I called you to join us that it would scare him away. I made it very clear to him that I wouldn’t help conceal his whereabouts and that I’d be telling you all about our conversation,” Marlee said.

  “Do you know where he went or what else he planned to do?”

  “No, he just got up abruptly and said he had to leave. He gave me his cell number and that was it. I called you right away. I thought about following him, but I walked over from the motel so there’s no way I could catch up to him if I ran back to get my car. I didn’t see him drive up or leave, so I don’t know if he’s still in the same car or not,” Marlee said.

  He maintained his stare at Marlee and did not speak. She was feeling a bit anxious about how he would eventually react to the information.

  “Are you mad? You seem a little tense.”

  “Should I be mad?”

  “I don’t think so, but I can see why you might be peeved that Ira Green was nearby and you weren’t able to talk to him,” Marlee said.

  Just as Hector was about to speak, his cell rang. As he was speaking, the waitress came by holding up her coffee pot. He waved her away and hopped out of the booth as he finished his conversation.

  “I’ll catch ya later. Gotta go,” Ramos said as he fled from the restaurant.

  Marlee paid the bill for the coffee and walked back to her hotel. He was inscrutable. She had no idea what he was thinking or feeling regarding her conversation with the former dean. Maybe he was as low key and forthright as he seemed, but Marlee knew most cops tended to have big egos and didn’t like anyone else interfering in their investigations. For all she knew, that might be the last time she saw or heard from the handsome Detective Ramos.

  The sunrise was beautiful, but Marlee was too tired and too consumed by her conversation with Ira Green to notice. It wasn’t even 6:00 a.m. and her class wasn’t due
to meet for their tour until ten. She flung off her sandals and crawled into bed, setting her travel alarm for nine-thirty.

  Marlee’s dreams were all of a scary nature and she tossed about as she slept. She jolted upright when the alarm rang, feeling as tired as she did before she went to sleep. With only a half hour to get ready, check out of the room, and eat breakfast, Marlee didn’t have time to focus on her burning eyes and foggy brain. She leapt out of bed, took a three minute shower, and used a headband to pull back her wet hair. There was no time for makeup and she quickly swished toothpaste around her mouth. She grabbed clean clothes without paying much attention to how they looked and put them on. Within twenty minutes of her alarm ringing, Marlee was clean and heading out the door with her suitcase.

  Throwing her belongings into her car, she walked the few steps to the main office area and turned in her key. Then she grabbed a banana, a cup of coffee, and three donuts from the breakfast area. Her students were all present and ready to embark on their final tour. She motioned them to the parking lot as she ate a donut.

  “Last tour today, guys! Woo-hoo!” Marlee was not feigning happiness, she really was thankful to be finishing up with the class. She was exhausted and by looking at the students, she could tell they were all out of steam too. They were reminded of the mandatory lunch meeting which would follow their only tour that day. The tour was of a halfway house in town. It housed both men and women who were newly released from prison or who were on some type of correctional supervision and struggling in one or more areas of their lives. When she was a probation officer, Marlee had personally taken numerous people on probation and supervised release to Helping Hands to deal with their ongoing substance abuse, to obtain a job, or to be separated from other people in their home towns.

  Before they left the parking lot, the professor updated the students on the goals and procedures of Helping Hands. “The program uses a level system. Each level carries with it a number of privileges. In order to be out in the community unsupervised for an extended period of time, the offender must have earned that right. The levels are based on the amount of time they’ve spent here, their adherence to the rules, and how they’re progressing in meeting the program goals. If someone breaks the rules or gets kicked out of Helping Hands, they can be brought back before the sentencing court for further punishment.”

  The class members got into their respective vehicles and drove to Helping Hands. On the way, Marlee was tempted to share all of her new investigative information with Marcus, yet she decided not to disclose too much.

  “Marcus, tell me a bit about your family and your younger years. I’m always curious what my students’ early lives were like,” she said, hoping to immediately cross him off the list of possible offspring of Roxie Harper and Mean Dean Green.

  “I grew up around Alpena. Do you know where that’s at?” Marcus asked. After Marlee nodded, he continued. “I was adopted as a baby and was raised on a small farm. Our family lost the farm a few years ago and we moved to Yankton. After that, my parents split and Dad still lives in Yankton. Mom moved to Elmwood. I was the youngest of two kids and already in college, so neither of us had to worry about being shuffled from home to home.”

  When Marcus paused to take a breath, Marlee jumped in before he could recount his years in elementary school. “When did you find out you were adopted?” She was excited to hear what Marcus knew of his adoption. Could this be the child of Roxie Harper and Ira Green?

  “When I was around five or six Mom and Dad started using the word ‘adopted.’ I didn’t know what it meant, but I knew I was adopted. My sister was too. Our parents just wanted us to be comfortable with the term early on even if we didn’t fully comprehend what it meant. That way there wouldn’t be any huge shock later on. We were always encouraged to ask questions about adoption and we met our birth mother a few times.”

  “You and your sister had the same birth mother?” Marlee asked.

  “Yeah. She was a distant relative and couldn’t care for my sister Cindy, so Mom and Dad adopted her. Then she had me a year later and I was adopted too. She took off for Nevada or Utah, I forget which, with a boyfriend and only came back to South Dakota a few times that I remember. She was weird and I never really felt any connection to her at all. But I’m glad Mom and Dad made arrangements for Cindy and me to meet her. At least I’ve never spent much time wondering “what if” like a lot of adopted kids do. I know the way my life turned out was the best possible alternative.” Marcus said.

  “Is she still with her boyfriend in Nevada or Utah?” Marlee asked.

  “No, she had many boyfriends after that and moved all over the country and into Canada for a while too. We found out about three years ago that she died of a drug overdose,” Marcus said without any feeling.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. That would be really tough, but it sounds like you had a good relationship with your adoptive family,” Marlee said.

  “Yeah, I still do. They’re great. Even though Mom and Dad aren’t together anymore, I still see them quite a bit.”

  “I’ve been interested in adoption stories since I was an undergrad. I did some research on kids who were adopted as babies and have always had an interest in the kids and how they adjusted. Do you know any other kids who were adopted?” Marlee was lying through her teeth. She just wanted to find out if Marcus knew of any other adoptees in the Criminal Justice To Go class that summer.

  “A few. When my sister and I were in junior high we were in an informal group made up of other adopted kids. We drove to Sioux Falls once a month. It was led by a counselor and I guess the point was to make sure we knew we were loved and cared for even though we’d all been given up by our birth parents.” Marcus said.

  “How about since you’ve been in college?” Marlee pried on with her questions. “Any other adoptees that you’ve talked to?”

  Marcus was getting suspicious. “Um, I’m sure there are tons of people who are adopted, but we don’t all have a club or anything.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I know. I’m being a bit nosy. It’s just all so fascinating to me. I get carried away with my questions.”

  This statement placated Marcus and he continued on. “No, that’s fine. I’ve talked to a few other people at MSU since I started. Our stories are all so different. So many similarities, but so many differences. Not everybody’s had it as good as me.” He didn’t seem inclined to elaborate and Marlee did not push. She felt certain she could cross him off the list of people in the class who might be Roxie Harper’s child.

  Moments later, Marlee parked her Honda CR-V across the street from Helping Hands. The remainder of the class parked near her and started walking toward the front entrance.

  As she exited from her vehicle she was more attentive than she had been earlier at the breakfast room at the motel. One student, Johnny Marble, was walking in a zombie-like fashion; eyes glazed, motions stiff, and robotic. When she approached him she didn’t smell alcohol but she was a betting woman, she would have guessed he imbibed last night and early this morning. Not that Marlee was one to cast stones over last night’s behaviors.

  “How’s it going, Johnny?” she asked. “You’re looking a little tired.”

  “I am. Didn’t get enough sleep the past few nights,” he muttered.

  “Why is that?”

  “The people in the room next to us were really loud,” Johnny said.

  “Uh huh,” Marlee replied thinking this was the type of excuse she would have used on one of her profs if she had been out drinking all night.

  “The people next door had a big party two nights in a row. I called the front desk but they didn’t do anything about it. I should’ve brought my ear plugs on the trip.”

  “Well, I guess it’s good to know that for next time you stay in a motel,” Marlee said, not sure if her student was being sincere or just spinning a yarn to cover his hangover.

  The group went inside Helping Hands and met with Irving Bladmore, the director of the program. Irving
had worked at the halfway house for over twenty years, starting as a counselor and working his way up to program director. He conducted a tour of the facility, which was divided into separate quarters for men and women. Irving explained that the residents had to be out of bed at 8:00 a.m. and were not allowed to lounge around in their rooms. They had to make progress toward their programs and obtaining legal employment. Once they were working, the residents were required to pay a percentage of their earnings toward rent.

  As they walked through the facility, residents eyed the students, curious about their presence. Irving explained that they didn’t get many tours. Those who toured the facility were primarily parole and probation officers, so it was no wonder the residents looked at the students with a degree of suspicion. Two men in their late twenties eyeballed the class members as they walked by.

  Irving Bladmore led them to an empty meeting room in the lower level of the facility where they sat on couches and chairs in the room which simulated a living room. There he explained the components of the critical thinking program, which emphasized personal responsibility and understanding of consequences for actions. Marlee glanced around the room and noticed Johnny Marble was leaning over with his head in his hands. On the side of his neck were two large hickeys. Marlee guessed they were fresh from the night before, as she hadn’t noticed them on him prior to that day.

  Following the explanation of the critical thinking program, the tour ended and Irving saw them out to where their cars were parked. Marlee took a moment to speak with him before driving to the buffet restaurant where the class would meet for their final meeting today.

  “Irving, I don’t know if you heard, but we had one of our students in this class die while we were in Chamberlain.”

  “Yes, it was on the news. I heard it was deemed suspicious by the police a couple days ago, but haven’t heard any updates since then,” Irving replied, raising his eyebrows.