She kicked off her snow boots inside the back door and made her way through the kitchen and into the dining room. Marlee could hear Pippa growling, which was unusual, since her cat usually only vocalized her displeasure when others were around. Pippa stood on the dining room table with her back arched as she batted at an arm clad in a navy blue dress shirt. Sitting at the table was Vince Chipperton.
“What are you doing here, Vince? And how did you get in?” Marlee growled as she sat down the food and drink on the table. Pippa jumped off the table and left Marlee to deal with the intruder.
“I rang the doorbell, and then I knocked. When there was no answer, I used the key you gave me a few months ago.” Vince was without remorse as he explained how and why he gained entry to Marlee’s home.
“Did you ever think maybe I wasn’t home? Or that maybe I didn’t want to see you? Or that maybe I was still asleep? It’s only 6:30 a.m., after all.” Marlee held out her hand. “Give me the key.”
Vince opened his mouth to speak, but then seemed to think better of it. He searched the key ring he pulled from his pocket and located the key to Marlee’s house. Vince handed over the key with a hint of hesitation, hoping his former girlfriend would change her mind and allow him to retain access. “Fine, here it is.”
Marlee took the key and put it in the pocket of her pajama pants. “So why are you here? Do you have some news?” She slunk into a chair, continued eating the last two bites of the breakfast burrito, and took a sip of coffee.
“Are you expecting someone for breakfast?” Vince asked as Marlee took all of the food from the paper sack.
“No, I’m really hungry and really thirsty. Now answer my question.” Having finished the burrito, she moved on to the first Egg McMuffin.
“Well, you didn’t return my calls last night after you called me asking if Thayer was in the courtroom during Bridget’s hearing. Since you wouldn’t take my calls, I decided to pay a visit.” Vince smiled, showing his perfect white teeth, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m harder to ignore in person.”
That smile got her every time. Marlee looked down, focusing on the feast before her, deciding how much to share with Vince. As an officer of the court, he was required to report her visit with Bridget and Kathleen last night, so she’d need to keep that a secret. “I saw Thayer at a convenience store, and he made some comments that I didn’t think he would know unless he was at the hearing. So I called you to find out what was going on with him and who was at the hearing. That’s all.” Marlee opened the Apple Turnover after she finished with her abbreviated version of the previous night’s events. Finishing the coffee, she then turned to the first Diet Coke and inserted the straw into the icy drink.
“Why do I think this is only part of the story?” Vince gave her a stern look that probably worked on some of the juveniles on his probation caseload, but it had no effect on her.
“Because you’re suspicious and paranoid?” Marlee offered. “Maybe you should talk to someone about these problems. You know, professional help.”
Her diversion tactic didn’t work. Both had several years of experience working with people who had reason to lie to them. Marlee and Vince both had acute bullshit detectors, so it was difficult to deceive one another. “I don’t believe you.”
Marlee swallowed the last of the turnover and mumbled, “I don’t care.”
“Okay, keep your little secrets. Just don’t ask me for any more help.”
“I never asked you for help to begin with. You and Hector concocted this plan to tag along to Thayer’s house. Remember?” Marlee shot back.
It took a lot to get Vince angry, but Marlee had succeeded. His face darkened to a deep red as he reached his internal boiling point. “I’m outta here! And I’m taking this Egg McMuffin with me!” Vince shouted as he grabbed the wrapped breakfast sandwich and headed toward the front door.
“Like hell you are, Vince!” Marlee chased after him and when she was right behind him stuck her foot in front of his, tripping him.
Vince fell flat on the floor, smashing the McMuffin beneath him. Marlee lost her balance and fell on top. “Give me my Egg McMuffin, you jackass!” Marlee yelled as the two rolled around on the floor fighting to gain control of the sandwich wrapped in yellow paper.
Vince, with arms much longer than Marlee’s, was able to shake the wrapper free and keep the McMuffin from her reach. As Marlee struggled to get to her feet, Vince took an enormous bite from the sandwich.
Feeling a burst of cool air on her face, Marlee looked up to see Hector standing in the doorway. Giving Marlee and Vince a disgusted look, he turned and walked away, leaving the front door open.
Vince finished the McMuffin in two more bites, unfazed by Hector’s unexpected appearance at Marlee’s house. In fact, she thought she could see a slight smile working at the corner of Vince’s mouth.
She scrambled out the front door. “Hector! Wait!”
Hector didn’t even glance in Marlee’s direction as he drove away from the house.
Vince joined Marlee on the sidewalk. “I didn’t even hear the doorbell. Did you?”
“Just go away, Vince. You’ve caused enough commotion for one day.”
Vince looked at Marlee and shrugged. He walked toward his car, carrying his coat, and sipping on one of Marlee’s Diet Cokes.
I think I need to get my locks changed or get a security system, Marlee muttered to herself as she went back inside. Too many people had access to her home, and it was turning into Grand Central Station.
The upside of the morning’s drama had the positive effect of waking Marlee up. The caffeine, sugar, and carbs didn’t hurt either. It did nothing, however, to improve her mood. She stomped into her house and got ready for her day on campus.
Marlee’s morning and afternoon were nothing out of the ordinary; students with excuses and justifications, faculty with complaints and accusations, and administrators with false compliments and unachievable goals. She slugged through her work duties on auto pilot, barely registering the comments made to her. The professor’s mind ping-ponged between Bridget’s case and her own love life. As soon as she started to process a thought from one, ideas about the other surfaced.
By one o’clock she was finished with classes and only had another hour of office hours. “Screw it!” she exclaimed as she wrote out a note and taped it to her door. “AT A MEETING UNTIL 3:30” the note read. There was no meeting, and she hoped she wouldn’t get busted by the dean or one of her tattle-tale colleagues. The vagueness of the note was intentional. Most people would not take the time to find out what meeting she was at and where it was located. She was getting nothing accomplished and wasn’t expecting anyone else to drop by that afternoon. Best put my energy toward Bridget’s problems, she thought as she packed up her book bag and locked the door behind her.
Walking past the faculty breakroom, Marlee noticed several varieties of meat, cheese, and bread fanned out on plastic platters atop one of the tables. Small bowls of mustard, mayonnaise, and additional condiments surrounded the platter. Somebody must be having a late lunch meeting, she thought as she passed by. Realizing that she hadn’t eaten lunch, she back tracked into the break room and made a ham and cheese on sourdough and stuffed the sandwich into her book bag before anyone could notice. As she exited the room, Hank Barnaby, their new dean, bumped into her.
“Ouch,” said Marlee as she backed up far enough to see who had smacked into her. “Oh, hi Hank. Sorry about that.”
He waived away her apology and gave her a huge grin. “Aren’t you staying for the meeting to discuss university-wide goals and strategies? The President even allotted money for food at this meeting. That never happens anymore!” Free food was a big deal on campus and was used to lure professors and students to meetings they would not normally attend. The dean’s excitement over the free food was well-justified. His procurement of sandwiches for the meeting would no doubt elevate his status among the faculty.
“I was planning to, but
I’m on my way to another meeting.” A blush crept to Marlee’s face as she lied to the dean’s face about her afternoon obligations. Hank was a good guy, and she didn’t like deceiving him. Still, she pondered the greater good of the situation and decided focusing on Bridget’s predicament was the highest priority. Marlee didn’t feel good about herself as she drove her lying, sandwich-stealing self home.
The pilfered sandwich was devoured by the time Marlee parked in her garage. She sat at the table and put her head in her hands. It seemed like the answers to this whole mess were within her grasp, but she just needed to focus and retrieve them from the depths of her mind. When things were in disarray, Marlee liked to organize to clear her mind. She grabbed some remaining papers from the box she took from Bridget’s apartment and began to sort through them. To her dismay, the answer to Bridget’s predicament wasn’t in the remaining papers.
Using a legal pad, she jotted down all the things she wanted to know about the case but had not yet found out. Even though Bridget had admitted taking the urn and stashing it, Marlee believed she could help get her cousin out of legal trouble. The fact that Bridget had been threatened with personal harm, financial harm, and finally the harm of her family, led credence to Marlee’s ongoing theory that Bridget was really a victim in this whole mess.
Marlee worked on her list of unanswered questions and curiosities about the case until she heard rustling outside her door. The mail carrier slid some documents into the mail slot on the front of the house. Hmmm…seems a little late in the day for the mail to arrive, Marlee thought. Mail was usually delivered around noon. Must be running late today or a substitute is covering the route.
Turning her attention back to her list of things she needed to find out, Marlee forgot about collecting her mail for several minutes. Remembering, she jumped up to grab it. She sorted through the flyers advertising a discount oil change, a furniture sale, and free registration at Weight Watchers through the end of the month. They all went directly into the recycle bin in the hall closet and Marlee sifted through the bills, a solicitation from a charity, a late Christmas card, and a legal-sized envelope with no return address.
Marlee tore open the envelope and saw block lettering in blue ink that read, STOP INVESTIGATING OR BRIDGET DIES!
I kept everything a secret as long as I could even though I knew all hell would break loose when the truth came to light.
Chapter 19
“Dammit!” Marlee yelled, looking back and forth between the envelope and the letter. There was no postmark on the envelope, so it had been hand-delivered to her home.
Pulling on her snow boots and coat, Marlee ran next door to talk to Sofie. After a brief conversation, the friendly neighbor confirmed the mail had been delivered around noon as usual. The noise I heard a few minutes ago when I was at the table was the person who delivered this letter! If I’d checked the mail right then, I would have caught them in the act!
Her heart was beating in her throat as she entered her house. Whoever had been threatening Bridget before had moved way beyond financial harm. This was a death threat against her cousin if she continued looking into the matter of the stolen urn. Marlee had two choices; continue the investigation and risk Bridget’s life or quit looking into the matter and let Bridget be sentenced to years in prison for a theft she’d been coerced into committing.
Her head swirled as she thought about her next move. She needed to talk this out with someone, but wasn’t sure who to confide in. The first matter of business was to ensure Bridget’s safety. Since she was confined to Kathleen’s house, the only real worry about her safety was allowing the author of the threatening letter into the home. Marlee knew there was a very real possibility that Bridget’s bond could be revoked if they had telephone contact, but Bridget’s safety was more important right now than her freedom.
“Bridget, don’t let anybody into Kathleen’s house, okay?” Marlee said after placing a quick call to her cousin.
“Why?” asked a drowsy sounding Bridget, who had fallen asleep on the couch watching yet another movie.
“I can’t get into it! Just don’t let anyone in except for Kathleen or Vince.” Marlee chose her words carefully as she wondered how much information she should disclose to her cousin. She didn’t know who wrote the threatening note or who was behind the whole scheme, so there was no point in throwing out names. Hopefully a general warning would suffice.
“Okay, but why?” Bridget persisted.
“Gotta run. Talk to you later!” Marlee hung up her land-line phone and switched off the ringer in case Bridget called back. She didn’t want to alarm her already-nervous cousin any more than necessary.
She pulled her cell from her pocket and dialed Vince, receiving his voice mail. Marlee left a brief message detailing the threat-filled letter she’d just received. Then the professor drove over to Kathleen’s house and parked down the street to observe. Marlee felt confident that Bridget wouldn’t let anyone in the house after Marlee’s warning, but someone might attempt a break-in. The longer she sat in the car, the more she worried. Someone could throw a Molotov cocktail through a window and ignite the home. It would be easy to cause a gas leak from the outside of the house too. Stop it! The more I think about Bridget’s safety, the wilder my thoughts become!
Only a half hour had passed, but the waiting was agony. Unsure of what to do next, Marlee started her car and drove to Marymount College. She hoped to find Abby in the Amos building so she could ask her a few questions.
For once that day, luck was on Marlee’s side. Abby was in her office. It was late Friday afternoon and most of the faculty had deserted the building. Music blared from her office, and she danced around with her back to the door. Her hips gyrated as her hands flew in the air while she sang along to the synthesized pop tune.
Marlee stared at the student for a full thirty seconds before she knocked on the opened door. Abby whirled around in mid dance. In a flutter of movement, Abby turned off the music and sat down behind her desk.
“Looks like your leg has healed up nicely,” Marlee observed.
“I never actually had a problem with my leg,” Abby said, her face flushed from the confrontation and the physical exertion.
“Yes, I guessed that.” Marlee let her comment hang in the air as she waited for Abby to provide an explanation.
“I’ve been using crutches to get into a role I’m auditioning for in the spring play. The character is on crutches, and I wanted it to look authentic when I tried out for the role.” Abby stated her case to Marlee as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“That seems a bit extreme, especially since the ground is covered with snow and ice. Weren’t you afraid you’d slip and actually hurt yourself while you were pretending to already be injured?”
“No, I guess I never thought about that.” Abby continued looking Marlee straight in the eye.
“When are the auditions for the spring play?” Marlee asked, knowing Abby would be playing the lead in the winter play opening in a few days.
“About two weeks. I’ve read about actors really getting into their parts, and I decided to give it a try. They call it method acting,” Abby stated, her face no longer flushed.
“I’m familiar with the concept and know that Hollywood actors do it all the time. I never heard of someone doing it for an audition in a college production.” Marlee wasn’t buying Abby’s explanation and thought turning up the heat might force Abby to reveal what was really going on.
“Uh, well…,” Abby stammered as she struggled to think on her feet. “It’s sort of the new thing in college plays. There’s so much competition for roles that you have to do anything necessary to land the part you want.”
“Are other students at Marymount doing it?”
“I don’t know,” Abby said, looking downward. The lying was starting to get to her.
“Why don’t you tell me what’s really going on?” Marlee asked as she pulled up a chair next to Abby, creating some tension wi
th the reduction in personal space.
Abby burst into tears. Marlee wasn’t sure if they were real or just a way to gain sympathy and give her more time to think of a new story. “I’m ashamed to tell you.”
“What is it? I’m sure I’ve heard much worse before,” Marlee assured her.
“I wasn’t using crutches to help me get a role in a play. I was faking an injury so I could see a physical therapist at the Medical Center.”
“Why?” This story was becoming more bewildering by the moment.
“Because he’s my age, blond hair, and really cute,” Abby gushed, no longer embarrassed that her injury was faked just to get the attention of a man. “I met him at the bar a couple weeks ago and since he never called me, I thought I’d use this as an opportunity to get to know him better.”
Marlee shook her head. She wasn’t sure this explanation of Abby’s injury was any more truthful than her method acting story. Realizing she really didn’t care why Abby faked her injury, Marlee moved on with her questioning.
“What do you know about the threats Bridget received these past few weeks?”
The stammering was back; a sure sign Abby wasn’t telling the truth. Or at least she wasn’t telling the whole truth. “I, uh, well, Bridget…” Abby paused realizing Marlee wasn’t going to accept any more of her far-flung tales.
“You might as well cut the crap. I know that Bridget told you about them.” The professor was getting more impatient by the minute as Abby’s stories changed.
Abby hung her head. Again, Marlee was unsure if she really felt badly about her lies or if this was more acting. “Yeah, she told me someone had threatened to hurt her and ruin her academic career if she didn’t help them steal the urn.”
“Who’s behind the threats?”
“No clue,” Abby said.
“Come on, Abby. You know all about The Showcase and the people in the art world. Surely you must have some guess as to who’s behind all this.” Marlee wasn’t giving Abby an out. She planned to stay in Abby’s office staring at her until the conniving student came forth with some names.
Art of Deception Page 17
