“How did we do this again? Does a particular color mean the person is a suspect or a victim?” asked Shelly.
“At this point, we don’t know who all is involved. Let’s just list names of people who could have pilfered the urn and hidden it in my house,” Marlee said in an attempt to simplify the project.
Diane, with a purple marker in hand, reached across the table and wrote down the names of Bridget and Marlee. Everyone stopped and looked at her.
“What? I’m just getting the ball rolling,” Diane said. “There’s no way Marlee did it and Bridget is probably innocent too, but we have to consider everyone no matter how unlikely.”
Marlee nodded. “Diane is right. Anyone who has a key to my house or knows where my spare key is gets listed on the crime chart too.” She leaned in with her red marker and wrote down the names of Diane, Kathleen, Shelly, and Gwen.
“So our suspects are all of us and your cousin?” Gwen asked with a frown. “I think we can do better than this.”
“Surely Bridget wasn’t the only person at Marymount College that had access to the urn. Was anyone helping her with the project? Another professor or a student?” Kathleen asked.
“I don’t know for sure. She had a student assistant assigned to her, Abby something. I don’t know if Abby helped with The Showcase or if she just assisted with other things.”
“Bridget had a teaching assistant? A visiting professor gets a teaching assistant at Marymount? And here I am slugging it through all my courses on my own over here at MSU. Not fair!” Diane raged on about the unfairness at the universities when it came to support of the professors.
“Getting back on topic,” Marlee paused looking at Diane. “I need to find out more about Abby and then talk to her. I don’t know her last name, but I’ll try calling Bridget’s department at Marymount to find out more.”
“What if that doesn’t work?” Diane queried.
“Then one of you will have to go visit Bridget in jail, since I can’t. I’ll put together a list of things I want to know, and one of you can go find out everything.” Marlee was satisfied with her idea. It killed two birds with one stone. By sending a mutual friend into the jail to talk to Bridget, Marlee could find out more about the details of the case and also let Bridget know that she was working to get her cleared of the charges.
“Uh, I don’t think I can go into the jail on an undercover mission. I get nervous just thinking about it.” Diane was a big talker but a bit of a fraidy-cat when it came to the actual work involved in gathering information.
“No worries, Diane. I know this isn’t something you would be comfortable doing. Actually, I was thinking Kathleen could give it a try.” Marlee looked at Kathleen Zens, the professor of music with a laid-back personality and quick wit. “You would be the least likely to draw suspicion from the jailers because you’re so easy-going and nonchalant. No one would suspect you’re on a fact-finding mission.”
“Sure, I’ll do it. But if I get arrested I’m going to sing like a canary,” joked Kathleen. “I’ll lawyer up. I’ll turn state’s evidence.”
“You don’t even know what those terms mean. You’ve been watching too many crime shows,” Marlee said, giving Kathleen a dirty look. “Just act like you are a friend of Bridget’s who wants to check on her and see how she’s doing. Which is the truth. It’s not the whole truth but it’s the truth.”
“Will I have to be strip-searched?” Kathleen was beginning to regret her decision to go into the jail.
“Probably. And then you’ll be sprayed for lice,” Marlee said with a straight face.
Kathleen’s jaw dropped. “I’m not doing this. I like Bridget and I really want to help you both, but this is just too much…”
“I’m kidding, Kathleen. You won’t be strip-searched or deloused. Unless they arouse suspicion, visitors to the jail only have restrictions on items they can bring inside. You can’t bring in a purse, backpack, or any big items. I suggest you take everything out of your pockets before you go in to visit Bridget. Just keep your car keys on you. Otherwise, leave everything else in your car.” Marlee gave Kathleen the same speech she frequently gave to her students before taking them on tours of correctional facilities. “Oh, and you’ll be on camera the whole time you’re in the jail. Just to let you know.”
“Will someone be listening in?”
“Maybe. That’s why you have to be sure not to mention my name in connection with any of the questions. If the jailers hear you say ‘Marlee wants to know more about the antique urn,’ then we’re all in deep shit,” Marlee said matter of factly.
“Would I be arrested?” Kathleen asked, fear in her eyes.
“Let’s not even talk about that. If you just keep the conversation casual and ask a few things about the case, I think you’ll be fine. I’ll practice with you before you go.” Marlee hoped to comfort Kathleen and restore her resolve to help Bridget get out of jail.
Kathleen nodded although she wasn’t sold on the idea. “I’ll do it.”
“Tomorrow I’ll call Bridget’s department at Marymount and find out who Abby is and then track her down. Kathleen, I think you need to go to the jail to talk to Bridget no matter what I find out from Abby. She may have something to hide or may not be privy to all the information Bridget has about The Showcase.”
“I have classes in the morning, but I’m free after 2:00 pm,” Kathleen said. “Do I need to make an appointment or should I just show up?”
“Call the jail and find out what the visiting hours are for tomorrow. If Bridget’s going to be formally charged with the theft, then she’ll make her initial appearance before a judge tomorrow. You won’t be able to visit Bridget if she’s in court.”
“What happens at this initial appearance?” Gwen asked.
“Bridget is brought before a judge and is advised her rights. She’s told of the charges alleged against her and informed that she can obtain an attorney if she doesn’t already have one. People who can’t afford a lawyer can have one appointed by the court, but Bridget is employed full time at a fairly well-paying job, so she won’t qualify for a court appointed attorney. Besides, I already contacted an attorney I know to represent Bridget.”
Shelly pondered the matter before asking about Bridget’s detention at the jail. “Will she be released or will she have to stay in jail?”
“The judge will make a determination on that too, although if she’s kept in jail now the issue can be revisited. The judge might release her on a monetary bond, meaning she has to put up a certain amount of cash to ensure her return to court for future hearings. She could be released on a personal recognizance bond, which means she gives her word to show up for all future court hearings. This is usually given when the defendant has ties to the community, like a family and a job, and if they are not a flight risk. Bridget has some ties to Elmwood, so I don’t think she would be seen as a flight risk, but who knows what the cops have been told about her. This whole charge is a farce, so I imagine there’s more false information out there too, and that might be held against her when it’s determined if she can get out of jail until this case is decided.”
“And if Bridget jumps bail, then they send out Dog the Bounty Hunter to catch her, right?” asked Diane.
“I doubt Bridget will do that,” Marlee said giving Diane a disgusted look. Who am I to say what Bridget will and won’t do? It seems like I hardly know my cousin at all anymore, Marlee thought as she took a sip of wine.
Everyone had tired of working on the crime chart, so they decided to call it a night. Diane had papers to grade that evening, Gwen and Kathleen both had to review students’ videos of their musical performances, and Shelly had several clients coming in to see her at the Counseling Center the next morning. Marlee needed to grade quizzes and return emails. She was at a conference for four days and knew there’d be several fires to put out when she arrived on campus in the morning. Still, the only thing that mattered right now was getting Bridget out of jail.
You
have the right to remain silent. As if…
Chapter 5
It was a restless night for Marlee as she tossed and turned, first too hot then too cold. Her mind twisted and turned thinking about Bridget and the stolen urn. It didn’t make sense that Bridget would steal the antique, but Marlee also couldn’t fathom who would set her up for the crime. Marlee had a few people who would like to see her sink, but she didn’t think they would resort to framing her for a crime she didn’t commit. Bridget, on the other hand, was liked by nearly everyone. Plus, she hadn’t been in Elmwood long enough to really piss off anyone.
After what seemed like only minutes of intermittent sleep, Marlee crawled out of bed and made a full pot of coffee. It was 4:45 am and she knew it was useless to try to sleep anymore. At least she could get herself primed with caffeine, go over some material for classes, and answer most of her emails. While she was at the conference she didn’t check her email, believing she needed to focus on what there was for her to learn. Plus, she discovered a long time ago that some problems will resolve themselves if you give them enough time. She hoped that was the case with her students and colleagues while she was gone.
Marlee turned on her computer and sat down with the first of many steaming hot mugs of coffee. Most of the urgent emails had come in the day she left or the day after. She scrolled through the remainder of her emails to the present day and found that, indeed, most of those urgent problems had been solved with no input from her. She smiled upon realizing her prediction rang true.
After responding to a few routine emails, Marlee was finished with that portion of her obligations. She then moved on to some grading. Even though she was on her second cup of coffee, her mind wasn’t clear enough to process the students’ arguments, so she set the grading aside and moved on to her class prep. The only course she taught that day was Prisons, a topic she knew very well from both studying it and working in the correctional system for a number of years. She had her notes from the last time she taught the chapter, so that took care of the bulk of the class prep. Marlee liked to incorporate real life into her classes, so she took some time to devise a group activity which would allow students to design their own ideal prison setting. Students seemed to like the idea of putting knowledge into practice, and Marlee liked having them think beyond textbooks and tests, so the activities were a win-win.
It wasn’t even 7:00 a.m. yet, and Marlee didn’t need to be on the Midwestern State University campus until 10:00 a.m. when her office hours began. Even though she had slurped her way through five cups of coffee, she was starting to feel drowsy. I think I’ll just stretch out here on the couch for a bit and get some shuteye before I shower and get ready for work, she thought. Wrapping her purple robe tight and pulling her fleece kitty cat blanket over her, Marlee fell asleep in seconds, knowing that she was fully prepared for anything that might happen on campus.
It was 9:45 when Marlee awoke on the living room couch. She felt fully rested and stretched mightily as she swung her feet to the floor. Mmmm, coffee, she thought as she smelled the concoction brewing within the house. Within seconds, everything came rushing back to her; the early morning, answering emails, class prep, and the nap. Oh shit, I’m going to be late for office hours, she thought, glancing at the giant wall clock in the living room. Marlee’s class didn’t start until 11:00 that morning, but she was expected to be in her office no later than 10:00 a.m. to meet with students and be available for her colleagues and the new dean. Frack!
Marlee took the world’s fastest shower, deciding to wash her hair but leave it wet since it took forever to blow dry. This wasn’t the wisest choice for a January morning in South Dakota. My hair can thaw out once I get to the office, she thought. She threw on some clothes flung on her bedroom floor, grabbed a granola bar, poured herself a travel mug full of coffee, and ran to her car. She screeched into the parking lot in front of her building, bounded up the stairs to the third floor, and was only ten minutes late when she put her key in her office door. Unfortunately, there were two students waiting for her.
“Dr. McCabe, I have an emergency,” whined a female freshman dressed in SpongeBob pajama bottoms, insulated boots, and an orange sweatshirt two sizes too big for her. The student’s hair was piled on top of her head in a sloppy bun.
“What’s going on, Missy?” Marlee asked, suspecting that the student from her Introduction to Sociology class was going to use illness as an excuse for her late paper.
“I’m so sick I can’t even function,” Missy croaked with an exaggerated cough into the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “I have a temperature, a cough, and I think it’s the flu. There’s no way I could get my paper turned in by the deadline today.” A two-page reaction paper based on a film shown in class was due that day.
“Well, if you’re that sick I imagine you’ve been to the doctor,” Marlee said, looking Missy straight in the eye. She knew this student, like so many, wouldn’t seek medical attention when they were sick. There were a variety of reasons for avoiding the campus nurse or an off-campus doctor. The student may not have the funds to pay for an exam, they may not have the time due to obligations with school, work, and raising their own kids, or they may not be sick at all. Marlee hated that she was continually put in a spot to determine whether the student was faking an illness, exaggerating the symptoms, or was truly sick.
“No, I don’t have insurance, so I haven’t seen a doctor. I can’t afford to go,” Missy said as she stood before the professor in her $75 sweatshirt from the campus book store and $100 Ugg boots.
“Well, there’s no charge to see the campus nurse. Go see her and get a note verifying you’re sick. Once I have that note, I’ll give you an extension on your paper. If she doesn’t think you’re sick, she won’t give you a note. If you don’t have a note, then you will receive a ten percent reduction in your grade for each day the paper is late. Understand?” Marlee gave her rehearsed speech to the student. It was at least the third time she’d recited these very words so far in January, and they were only two weeks into the semester.
“Fine,” huffed Missy as she walked out the door and down the hall. Marlee expected she would not be seeing a note from the nurse for this trumped-up illness.
The second student waiting to see Marlee did not enter her office when Missy left. Marlee peeked around her office door and summoned him to come in.
“Never mind,” said the young man Marlee recognized as Missy’s classmate. Apparently he was going to attempt the same strategy but overheard Missy crash and burn. He stood up from the bench and shuffled off down the hall.
“Finally, I can have a minute to myself,” Marlee said out loud, as she unwrapped her granola bar and took a bite. As she slurped the coffee from the travel mug, she looked through her pockets for the high blood pressure pill she brought with her. During her last visit to the doctor, it was determined that Marlee needed to lose weight and had blood pressure which exceeded the normal level. It wasn’t news to Marlee that she needed to lose weight, but the blood pressure reading seemed out of left field. Still, she had followed her doctor’s orders and faithfully took the small white pill every morning. When she remembered.
Taking advantage of the lull, Marlee closed her office door and placed a call to Marymount College. She called the department where Bridget taught, hoping to speak to one of the student office workers rather than a full-time professional secretary who might get suspicious.
She was in luck! A female voice mumbled “Art, Music, and Film Department,” when she answered the phone. Marlee asked to speak to the student who had been assigned to Bridget.
“That’s me,” said the mumbler.
“Oh, that’s great. You’re who I wanted to talk to. Is your name Abby?” Marlee turned on her chattiness as a way to put the student at ease.
“Yeah. Why?”
“Well, I need to talk with you about The Showcase you’ve been working on with Bridget McCabe,” Marlee said.
“Why? I’m not in charge of it. I’m just h
elping the professor,” Abby said, not volunteering any additional information.
“I just needed to ask you a few questions. I thought maybe we could meet for lunch at 1:00 at Scooter’s. My treat,” Marlee said, knowing full well that a student would not turn down a free meal.
“Uh, okay. What’s your name? How will I know who you are when I get to Scooter’s?” Missy asked, finally enunciating her words.
Marlee provided a brief description of herself and asked Abby for the same. The older Marlee got, the more the students all seemed to look alike. If Abby’s description of herself was accurate, then there would probably be twenty other females in the off campus coffee shop that looked just like her; short stature, long dark blonde hair, and Caucasian. So much for diversity in this state.
The Prisons class went by quickly as usual. The more interested Marlee was in a topic, the faster the class period seemed to fly by. The students, while marginally interested in prison design when Marlee lectured on it, were engrossed in the designing of their own prison. Their interest was greater than the professor expected, as they ran out of time before every group was able to share their plans for prison reform with the class.
Marlee had more office hours starting at 2:00. Until then, she had time to investigate the urn theft and Bridget’s bogus arrest. So far no one at MSU had talked to her about this incident, either because they didn’t want to upset her or because they hadn’t heard about it yet. Before setting off for her lunch meeting with Bridget’s student assistant, Marlee placed a quick call to her attorney.
“Denny Harlow,” rasped the familiar voice after the third ring.
“It’s Marlee. What can you tell me about the case? Do you know anything about Bridget yet?”
“There’s not much to tell. Bridget made her initial appearance earlier this morning. Her attorney didn’t request bail at that hearing but said she would be bringing the matter forth soon.”
Art of Deception Page 3
