Wolf

by Kelly Oliver

  “Why?”

  “The key ring the professor gave Donnette has a small key to a safety deposit box. That must be where the professor put my dad’s paintings.”

  “I need to get those paintings back,” Dmitry said. “It’s urgent that I find them.”

  “Okay,” Jessica said. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Jessica crept downstairs into the main office. Friday afternoon of graduation weekend, the building was deserted. The lights were off and Donnette was sitting at her desk staring off into space. Everything in the office was tidy and neat. Not a pencil out of place. Donnette was in full make-up and matching skirt set, sitting perfectly still. When Jessica cleared her throat so she wouldn’t startle her, Donnette glanced up but didn’t smile.

  “Is something wrong, Donnette?”

  “It just isn’t the same without Wolfie.” Her nail polish matched her lipstick, pale pink. Pink and white were the theme for today’s ensemble. Her white bouffant reflected her outfit, and her thick shellac of hairspray had taken on the sheen of pink mucus. She sighed, took a matching hanky from her pocket, and dabbed at her eyes.

  “Speaking of Wolf,” Jessica said, “could I borrow the key to his office? A student wants his paper back from the Existentialism class and I need to get it from his office.”

  Donnette reached into her pocket and pulled out the key. Sure enough, a tiny sibling accompanied the bigger office key. Jessica reached out to take the key ring, but Donnette just sat there holding the keys in her lap.

  “Amber won’t answer my calls,” she said. “Do you think she’s okay?”

  “I’m sure she’s fine,” Jessica said. “I saw her this morning.” She didn’t say she saw her at the hospital after a night partying at the fraternity, or in Amber’s case, playing chess all night and getting high on Twisted Twix in Gary-the-geek’s dorm room.

  “Is she mad at me?”

  “Um, I don’t think so,” Jessica lied. She couldn’t tell her Amber had found out Mr. Bush wasn’t her biological father. “I’m sure everything will work out.”

  “I don’t know why she doesn’t like me. I’ve done everything for that girl.”

  “I’m sure she likes you,” Jessica said. “She loves you.” She could tell by the tears welling in her eyes that she was edging onto thin ice. “Just give her time, Donnette,” she said. “It’ll be okay. Amber’s a sweet girl.” In many ways, Donnette treated Jessica more like a daughter than she did Amber.

  “I suppose you’re right,” Donnette said. She was folding and unfolding a paperclip, gouging her hand. “I’ve never been able to get close to that girl. She’s too much like her father.” The paperclip ripped the skin on her thumb and she was bleeding. “Dear Lord, now look what I’ve done.” She wrapped her pink hanky around her red thumb.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Never mind me.”

  To change the subject, Jessica asked if she knew who might have rummaged through her stuff in the attic. Donnette said it was probably “that cursed Russian.”

  “Why do you dislike Dmitry so much?” she asked.

  “I don’t dislike him, honey. I just don’t trust the commie, that’s all.”

  Jessica wondered if she was just jealous because Wolf wanted Dmitry to fetch his pizza and do his laundry instead of her. “Do you still think Dmitry killed Wolf?” she asked, skating out even further.

  “Well, if not the cursed Russian, then who?”

  Jessica made a mental list of possible killers: Fingal O’Flannery, the Skokie mafia, Bratva, or any one of Schmutzig’s many disgruntled graduate students, one of the undergrads he’d flunked, or even Donnette to keep her secret about Amber. Or, maybe it was Michael. The Wolf had failed him at his dissertation exam, a first in Northwestern’s history. She imagined Detective Cormier interrogating her cheating ex-boyfriend under a bright light, maybe a little waterboarding for good measure.

  “Good question,” Jessica said finally, pausing for what she hoped was an appropriate amount of time before asking again for the key. “Could I borrow the key now to fetch that paper?” When she held out her hand again, Donnette acted surprised, then stood up and straightened her skirt.

  “I’ll open the door for you.” Donnette headed out of the office and Jessica followed. Donnette’s heels tapped as she climbed the wooden staircase. Close behind, Jessica noticed black lint on the back of her skirt and restrained herself from picking it off. She could hear Donnette’s skirt swishing against the slip underneath. Tap, swish, tap, swish, tap, swish, tap, swish. Donnette slowly ascended the stairs, pulling herself up using the banister, breathing heavily. Jessica worried she might have a heart attack, and thought about giving her a boost from behind.

  “There’s black lint on the back of your skirt,” Jessica said, hoping Dmitry would hear her.

  “Oh, can you take it off, dear?” she asked. Jessica plucked at the lint using just the tip of her fingernails so she wouldn’t have to actually touch Donnette’s butt. They had reached the landing and were standing in front of 24B.

  “I like your outfit,” Jessica said. “Very pretty.”

  “This old thing?” Donnette smoothed her skirt. She patted her hair, pleased with the compliment, and took the keys from her pocket. She put the key into the lock and opened the door. “Get what you need, honey,” she said. “I’ll wait here.”

  Lolita appeared in the hallway. “Donnette, could you help me figure out my schedule for next semester?”

  “Goodness, you scared me,” she said as she turned around. “Of course, dear, as soon as we’re done here.”

  Jessica gave Lolita a questioning look and shrugged. She picked up a paper from the top of one of the many piles in Schmutzig’s office, and then glancing around to make sure Donnette wasn’t looking, grabbed the blue binder containing her thesis, shoved it under the paper, and held it tight to her chest.

  “Did you get what you needed?” Donnette asked as she locked the door.

  “Yes, thanks.” Jessica inhaled until her lungs might burst. Finally, she’d retrieved her thesis and that damning post-dated letter, but she hadn’t managed to get the key away from Donnette.

  She and Lolita followed Donnette back downstairs to the main office. The two friends were lip reading behind her back, miming a plan to get the key off her.

  “Let me get on my computer,” Donnette said, “and then I can help you with your schedule.” She may have hated her father, but she liked Lolita. She always seemed to enjoy helping the girls, and took pride when they succeeded at the university. She poked at her keyboard until her dinosaur computer came to life. It was three years old, already obsolete.

  “You know, I forgot to get another student’s paper from Wolf‘s office,” Jessica said. “Could I borrow the key to run up and get it?”

  Absorbed in the screen, wordlessly, Donnette handed her the keychain and kept searching on her computer. Lolita leaned over the back of her chair to keep her occupied. Jessica ran up the stairs and slid into the janitor’s closet. “Here,” she said, out of breath. Dmitry quickly took the keys, slipped the small key off the ring and replaced it with another the same size. Without exchanging a word, he handed it back to Jessica, and she bounded back down the stairs. Donnette and Lolita were right where she’d left them, Donnette staring into the computer screen and Lolita looking over her shoulder.

  “Thanks,” Jessica said, handing the keys back to Donnette.

  “Donnette, you’re the best,” Lolita purred. “What would we do without you?”

  Donnette beamed. “You’re such good girls.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Jessica and her three friends gathered in their regular booth at The Blind Faith. Except for Amber, they all ordered Jolt Awake coffee, a special blend of coffee and ginseng. Amber was fussing about the evils of caffeine when Jessica reminded her of the Twisted Twix incident. Jack narrowed his eyes and tightened his lips.

  “But caffeine is poison,” Amber said, twisting her hair around her f
inger.

  “Speaking of poison, TKE is lucky no one died,” Lolita said.

  “No one dies of fatal truths,” said Jack, “there are too many antidotes.”

  “Human all too Human,” Jessica said.

  “Why don’t you two get a room and have your love affair with Nietzsche in private? No one else gets off on it.” Lolita finished her coffee, and then said under her breath, “Sometimes I think you two are proselytizers for the Anti-Christ.” She waved the waitress over and asked for another cup.

  “With comments like that, we’d better make it a ménage-a-tois.” Jack laughed.

  “What?” Amber asked, pulling the curly lock out of her mouth.

  “Stupid Nietzsche joke,” Lolita said.

  “Oh, that dumb game they play,” Amber said. “Guys, this fraternity stuff is serious. What’s going to happen to them?”

  “I heard that national TKE is going to suspend Northwestern’s chapter,” Jack said, looking more pale than usual. He hadn’t changed his clothes from the night before, his shoulder-length wavy brown hair was stringy and flopping over his smudged wire-rimmed glasses, hiding one of his puffy eyes, and Jessica could smell him from across the table, pungent cheese.

  “Good. They should be suspended, but from ropes attached to their balls,” Lolita said. She was using her compact mirror and touching up her lipstick.

  “That’s not very nice,” said Amber.

  “Well, drugging and raping girls isn’t very nice either,” said Lolita, glancing up from applying her makeup, and then put the compact back in her jacket pocket.

  “I think Alexander is supplying the rape drugs,” Jessica said. “When Kurt asked him about Boris, he showed him something inside his jacket.” She opened an imaginary jacket and pointed to the inside pocket.

  “Boris is the name of the drug syndicate. They have Boris and Natasha stamped on the cocaine envelopes and GHB wrappers,” Lolita said. She was on her third cup of Jolt. Night prowling and pouncing on would-be rapists seemed to agree with her, she was fresh as a lettuce.

  “Those cute wrappers?” Amber asked, her head on Jack’s shoulder. At least she’d washed her face and changed back into one of her nightgown moo-moos. Trying to see signs of Wolfgang Schmutzig in her features, Jessica recognized his round nose, wiry hair, and flashes of Wolf’s brilliance behind Amber’s wacky ways.

  “We’re going to bust those bastards.” Lolita slammed her cup onto the table.

  “Shouldn’t we let Detective Cormier do the busting?” Jessica asked. She hated to think of what Lolita meant by “bust.” She’d already broken some bones. The frenzied outburst in the gazebo scared her and she worried for the lives of those frat boys, as disgusting as they might be, and she didn’t want her friend going to jail.

  “How many more girls will be raped while the detective is waiting to get enough evidence to move in?” Lolita said. “I plan to administer more doses while he’s dicking around filling out paperwork.”

  “Detective Cormier thinks there’s a correlation between rape drugs on campus and the overdose that killed Wolf,” said Jessica. “The police determined it was murder, an overdose of GHB.”

  “I wish I’d known him,” Amber said. “Who’d want to kill him?”

  “Anyone who knew him,” Jack said. “And a few who didn’t.” He had scarfed down his burger and was inhaling his sweet potato fries.

  “Donnette thinks Dmitry did it,” Jessica said.

  “My dad? Why would he kill the professor?” Lolita asked, sipping her coffee. She was too cool to eat in public.

  “Maybe Schmutzig was blackmailing him,” Jessica said, raising her eyebrows up and down.

  “What do you mean, blackmailing?” Lolita asked.

  “Well, Wolf had your dad running around like his personal valet, delivering his dry cleaning, picking up pizza.”

  “I wouldn’t call picking up pizza blackmail. My dad was just humoring him because he thought the professor was inept.”

  “What about Fingal O’Flannery?” Jessica asked. “He certainly benefited from Wolf’s murder. I still think he stole Wolf’s book to salvage his career.”

  “Donnette did it,” Jack interrupted. “If she couldn’t have her boy toy then nobody would.” He started tickling Amber. “Your mother’s crime of passion was a humanitarian deed.”

  Jessica imagined Donnette in the throws of passion, accidently stabbing Wolf in the eyes with her fake fingernails or rolling over and suffocating him with her bird’s nest hairdo. Donnette probably thought that giving someone a roofie was something nasty coeds did on a roof.

  “The strongest drugs Donnette has in her medicine cabinet are stool softeners and judging by that stick up her ass,” said Jack, “she rarely touches them.” Laughing at his own joke, he snorted his coffee and started sneezing.

  “That’s not funny Jackie,” Amber said. “You’re mean. I can’t believe my real dad is, was, a university professor. It’s so weird to find out you’re not who you thought you were.”

  Jack patted her springy curls. “I’m just teasing you, Apricot. I’m sure you’re mom uses her stool softeners.” Amber fake punched his shoulder.

  “I wonder if the detective thinks I did it and that’s why he’s following me,” Jessica said. “I shouldn’t have written I wanted to kill the Wolf on my Facebook page.”

  “That’s hilarious,” said Jack. “You actually put that on Facebook? What an idiot.” When she kicked him under the table, he caught her foot between his ankles and wouldn’t let go.

  “You’re the one who broke into his office. You’re the one celebrating his death.”

  “Okay kids, quit your fighting,” Lolita said. “What about our local drug dealer Alexander and his poisonous gifts?”

  “What about him? You think he killed Wolf? Why would Alexander want to kill Wolf?” Jessica asked. “Just because he didn’t grade his paper?”

  “He may not have a motive, but he does have the means,” said Lolita.

  “If Alexander is working for the mob, maybe they had Wolf killed,” said Jessica. “Maybe Wolf was somehow involved with drugs on campus. Maybe he was Alexander’s boss.”

  “That’s preposterous. Wolf mixed up with the Russian mafia?” Jack said. “You’ve been reading too many crime thrillers.”

  “Maybe not,” said Lolita. “I’ve got to go.” She stood up and grabbed her leather jacket and helmet. She swung her long hair to one side, wound it up into a bun, and put her skidlid on. One after the other, she stretched her long arms into the tight Harley jacket, and then threw a hundred-dollar bill onto the table.

  “My treat,” she said. “Later.” Lolita didn’t even wait for the waitress to refill her coffee. She was out the door.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  After her friends left the café, still shaken by the break-in, Jessica didn’t want to return to the Brentano attic. Since Amber wasn’t there, she ordered a Double Dirty Chai, chai tea with two shots of espresso.

  Alone in the booth, she scraped their scraps onto one plate and stacked the others, pushed them across the table, brushed the crumbs onto the floor with the back of her hand, and then took out her computer to do some research. Trying to please her new advisor, she started searching Nietzsche’s writings for any mention of menstruation. “Write with blood.” Was that close enough?

  He mostly railed against the vices of Christianity: solitude, fasting and abstinence. Whatever her other vices, Jessica wasn’t guilty of those three, at least not as long as her friends kept feeding her pancakes. Since her break-up with Michael, she was wondering about the third. Her mom had taught her, once a cheater, always a cheater. Of course, her mom had been talking about poker.

  Jessica was deep in thought when someone slid into the booth across from her.

  “I was hoping I’d run into you.” Nick Shilling aka Professor Charis gave her his designer smile. “You haven’t answered my messages.”

  Speechless, she stared at him for a few seconds. “I’ve been
busy.” It was true. She had been busy. Busy drinking and passing out again. But that wasn’t why she hadn’t answered his messages.

  “If you aren’t busy this evening, would you like to accompany me to see a painting that I’m considering for my Russian art collection?” Nick asked. “Given your thesis project, it could count as research.”

  “Clever,” Jessica said. “Luring me out with promises of homework.”

  “This would be more like a field trip. But if you like, we could do some homework afterwards,” he said, a twinkle in his eyes.

  “Do I need a permission slip for this field trip? Maybe a signed waiver from my mom in case of unforeseen dangers?” she asked. “Probably safer to do my homework myself.” She considered her vow of abstinence, but then Michael’s stabbing infidelity pierced her heart again, and more than anything she needed to even the score. She wished Michael would walk through the door and see her with Nick. Her stomach sunk and she closed her eyes, and yet again the words in Michael’s diary were daggers stabbing her in the gut.

  “What time?” she asked, closing her computer so forcefully heads turned from the snapping sound.

  “I’ll pick you up at 6:00. Where do you live?” When Nick reached across the booth, she flinched and jerked her hand away.

  “You can pick me up here,” she said, cheeks on fire. “I want to finish what I’m working on.”

  “What are you working on?” he asked.

  Her cheeks were so hot, she imagined they were blood-red by now. She was embarrassed to tell him that her new advisor had her researching menstruation. “I can’t go with you unless I finish this,” she said. “So get out of here and I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

  Once Nick left, she took stock of what she was wearing. Jeans, high-tops, and a stinky T-shirt with a picture of Mr. Spock with the caption: Are you out of your Vulcan mind? She hadn’t showered in three days. She glanced around to make sure he was really gone, then gathered up her stuff.