Coming Up Murder

by Mary Angela

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Andy’s test came back positive for ethylene glycol, the poison in antifreeze, and the doctors started Antizol immediately. I told Sophie as soon as I heard. She was still waiting on Tanner’s organ test. The medical examiner was testing his liver because the poison would be most prominent there. In the meantime, Sophie had gone to Mrs. Gunderson’s house to confirm the antifreeze wasn’t hers. It wasn’t, but the garbage had already been collected. I didn’t think it really mattered. Whoever deposited it there had been careful; there wouldn’t be fingerprints. Had it been Mia or one of her roommates? Or was it someone who wanted me to think it was?

  Lenny and I talked over the possibilities while sipping a glass of wine at my house that evening. Giles had shown up at the hospital, and we ended up spending most of the afternoon surrounded by people. We needed time to ourselves to think and talk. If we could figure out when Andy ingested the poison, we could figure out the killer. The problem was, depending on how much he drank, his first symptoms would appear from thirty minutes to twelve hours later, which didn’t exactly narrow down the timeframe. I thought he’d consumed it at the banquet because that’s when his behavior changed. Lenny insisted we couldn’t be certain.

  “It’s a nice night for a walk, and Mia lives right down the street. Let’s pay her a visit.”

  I started to object, and Lenny put down his glass of Cabernet. “She dated, fought with, and probably killed Tanner. Plus, she lives close to Mrs. Gunderson’s house.” He shrugged. “Occam’s razor: the simplest solution is usually the right one.”

  I put on the flip side of the record we’d purchased secondhand from This and That. “But nothing about this murder has been simple. The sonnet, the staging, the flowers—somebody spent a lot of time orchestrating Tanner’s murder.”

  “But not Andy’s,” said Lenny. “Andy’s was spur of the moment. Otherwise he’d be dead.”

  “You’re right.” I snuggled close to him on the couch. “Something must have panicked the killer into taking action. But what? What does Andy know that we don’t?”

  Lenny put his arm around me. “A lot, I’m sure.”

  I chuckled. “You make everything better, do you know that? Even murder.”

  “Same.” We were quiet for a few minutes, enjoying our wine and Cole Porter. Then I heard scratching. Dickinson had decided “Anything Goes” did not go with her current mood.

  “That’s our cue,” said Lenny. “Let’s take that walk.”

  “I’ll get my purse.”

  “You haul that thing wherever you go,” said Lenny. “Why? What could you possibly need while walking around the block?”

  I couldn’t think of a thing, but I was good at making stuff up. “If, for instance, I fell and needed an antiseptic for my wound, I would have one on hand.”

  “You have been drinking,” said Lenny. “I guess a fall is possible.”

  I punched his arm as we walked out the door. We didn’t get very far before Mrs. Gunderson stopped us. Dressed in a pink-and-white housecoat and wearing a crown of pink curlers, she stood on her front stoop like a queen looking down on her kingdom.

  “Emmeline, I didn’t see you come home.” She motioned for us to draw nearer, and we obeyed. “There was a cop at my house today—a lady cop.”

  “Sophie Barnes, I know. I sent her.”

  “She said someone used my trash receptacle.” She crossed her arms. “That’s not the proper way to dispose of chemicals.”

  “We have bigger problems than recycling violations, Mrs. G,” said Lenny. “Whoever threw it away might be a murderer. You need to be extra cautious until they are caught.”

  “Humph!” said Mrs. Gunderson. “If I catch them fooling around with my garbage can, they’d better be cautious. My husband left me a gun, and I know how to use it.”

  The thought of Mrs. Gunderson wielding a pistol was downright scary. I worried for her garbage collector. “Seriously, please be careful. The police are close to catching the person. Just be vigilant.”

  “You can count on it,” she said, letting the door close.

  “I imagine the lights will be on full blast tonight,” said Lenny as we continued down the block.

  “I have no doubts.” Mrs. Gunderson was a huge fan of lights. She said they deterred criminals, but not this one. Someone had sneaked antifreeze into her garbage undetected. Was it Mia or one of her friends? We were about to find out.

  Mia’s house was mostly dark, but a light shone from one of the front rooms, maybe the parlor. I could see the outline of a large, leafy plant. Since it was a nice night, I’d hoped Mia and her friends would be out in the yard, like lots of other college students. But they didn’t appear to be home.

  “Let’s knock,” said Lenny.

  “And say what?”

  “That you’re just checking in,” said Lenny. “You’re her neighbor—and a professor. Plus, you said someone mentioned counseling.”

  That was true. It wouldn’t seem that unusual for me to follow up.

  We walked up the crooked front steps, the slant of the porch noticeable as I rang the doorbell. I turned to Lenny and shrugged. Maybe no one was home. We had started to leave when I heard the first steps. Mia opened the door.

  “Hi, Mia,” I said. “I was taking a walk and wanted to check in to see how you’re doing.”

  “Ah … thanks,” said Mia. “I’m good.”

  “Your friends have been supportive,” I said.

  She nodded.

  “That’s good.” I struggled for a transition.

  Lenny jumped in. “Hey, do you have a car?”

  And he thought I was indiscreet.

  “Yeah, why?” she said.

  “My low coolant light is on, and my car won’t start. I thought maybe you had some antifreeze.”

  She pulled her rope of blonde hair over her shoulder. “No. My dad does all that stuff in the summer.”

  From behind her, Jacob stepped forward. Mia moved over to make room for him, allowing us a peek inside. I’d had no idea he was there with her. He must have been listening from the hallway or living room.

  “I can take a look at it if you want,” said Jacob. “I’m pretty good with cars.”

  “Thanks, man, but I think I’ll ask around.” Lenny smiled. “I don’t want to intrude on your night.”

  Lenny could play the cool professor whenever he wanted. I was completely jealous. I sort of wondered if Jacob was too. His eyes were narrowed on Lenny. Maybe he knew something about the antifreeze. Or maybe he didn’t like seeing his new girlfriend talking to a cute professor. Hailey had warned Mia she was stepping into the same situation. If Jacob was spending time at the house, though, he could have easily deposited the antifreeze in Mrs. Gunderson’s garbage can. Plus, he might not know I lived next door.

  If only Lenny’s car were really low on coolant, I would have an excuse to ask more questions. Tomorrow I would need to get back to the theater. Hamlet was no longer playing, but I would find another reason. The graduate exhibition spotlighting student artwork opened tomorrow. I wondered if Mia and Jacob would be there.

  “Will your art be on display at the graduate exhibition tomorrow?” I asked. “I’m eager to see it.”

  Mia smiled. “Yes, one of my costume designs is going to be used in Twelfth Night at the Hayes Theater in New York. They’re announcing it tomorrow.”

  “Congratulations,” said Lenny. “That’s good news.”

  “Yes, congratulations,” I said. “I’ll try to stop by.”

  “Thanks, and thanks for checking in,” said Mia. “It’s kind of nice having a professor right down the street.”

  “Unless you’re in her class,” said Lenny. “Then it’s not so nice. She’d be stopping by with her red pen.”

  Mia laughed. Jacob crossed his arms.

  “Not true,” I said. “Have a good night.”

  She shut the door, and we returned to the sidewalk to finish our walk. Something was bothering me, but I couldn’t
put my finger on it. I looked back at the house. Maybe that was it, the creepy old two-story. A day didn’t pass that I didn’t look at the windows and think of them as eyes staring back at me. The weathered paint, the sinking porch, the flapping shades. It didn’t take much for me to imagine a ghost living there. But a murderer? I was starting to wonder.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  It turned out I didn’t need to set my alarm. I woke up early Wednesday morning in a cold sweat. I’d dreamed I was on a garden bench, much like the one on my mock-up book cover, and a vine had twisted up the bench and around my ankles. It had reached my shoulders by the time I awoke, struggling to free myself from my bedcovers. I sat up and switched on the lamp on my nightstand. Dickinson squinted in my direction. Then she returned to looking out the window, where I could hear the swish of Mrs. Gunderson’s broom as she brushed it over our shared pathway. The woman was like the town itself: indestructible. Wind, weather, flood, or murder couldn’t keep her from her morning chores.

  Nothing could keep me from calling Owen Parrish either—except the time zone. It was two hours earlier on the West Coast, but that didn’t prevent me from sending an email. After drinking an extra-large cup of coffee, I sat down with my laptop and wrote a polite but firm email requesting the cover be changed. My dream was literally turning into a nightmare. I’d gone from elated to deflated in exactly one week. I’d changed the ending, but no way was I going to change my mind on this mock-up.

  When the hour reached a respectable eight a.m., I prepared for the rest of the day. The art reception was over lunch, which meant I would go to the theater following classes. The morning was cool, so I wore a navy and white sweater with my trouser slacks and a pair of open-toed shoes. For months, my clothes hadn’t mattered. Shapeless, dull, and warm, they were functional but nothing more. Picking out a pair of shoes that weren’t boots was a treat, and although I was no fashionista, I admired my ensemble in the mirror, liking the way my red toenails looked against the navy shoe. A great pair of shoes made anything seem possible, even solving a murder.

  After shrugging on my camel-colored trench coat, I was out the door, bracing myself against the cold spring morning. The sun was bright but the wind fierce, and tears stung my eyes as I walked briskly down the street. Mia’s house was quiet, but someone was up. They had lifted the shades. I pulled my coat tighter. Even in the yellow sunlight, the house was dreary and battered. As I crossed the street to campus, I dismissed an ominous feeling. I had lots to do today. The last thing on my mind should be the rental on the corner.

  As I entered Stanton Hall, the warmth rushing to my fingers, I saw André emerge from the crowd. He looked dapper as always in his dark shirt and gray beret. Though about to enter the door to the Foreign Languages Department, he stopped when he saw me. He reached for my elbow and led me to an empty alcove by the water fountain. “I have news.”

  “Okay, but I have class,” I said as we walked.

  “This will only take a minute.” He stopped and faced me. “You know Giles and I spoke at the banquet. You recommended the meeting.”

  “Of course, I remember.” I guessed at what the news was, but I let him tell me.

  “He is a most pleasant man, as you know,” he said. “He’s been very kind to me over the years, and he’s paid me another kindness.” A smile reached across his face.

  “What is it?” I asked, hoping the news was what I thought it was.

  “He’s asked me to direct the Teaching English as a Second Language program next fall. Beginning in September, I will be a member of the English faculty.”

  “That’s wonderful, André!” I said. “I’m so excited for you.”

  “I’m excited, too,” he said. “Finally, I will have a place of my own—right next to you and Lenny!”

  “I know Lenny will be thrilled.” Thrilled might have been an overstatement, since Lenny wasn’t as charmed by André’s French heritage as I was. There had been a time when André might have even been a rival. But Lenny would be excited that, after years of trying to create a French department, André would finally have a home. It wasn’t the home he’d dreamed about, but it was a home all the same.

  “We will talk more later?”

  “You can count on it.” I started toward the towering stairwell then turned back. “And congratulations, André. You deserve this.”

  He smiled. “Thank you, Emmeline.”

  The next fifty minutes dragged by. I was counting the seconds until I could leave for the theater. I wasn’t the only one. A third of the class was staring out the long, sun-filled windows. It was getting to be that time, the time when sitting in a classroom seemed like sacrilege. The days would only get warmer and the homework more hurriedly done. I needed to keep them focused as long as I could. Once May hit, the gates of pandemonium would officially open. I reminded them of the test on Friday, and they snapped back to attention.

  My next class was better, probably because their grades were worse. The end of the semester had thrown them into a panic. Like some classes were, this one had been notoriously truant. Sports, parties, and other important matters had kept them away, and the upcoming test was their Hail Mary. I appreciated their improved behavior. Their studious note-taking and intelligent questions made me forget, momentarily, about the graduate reception. It wasn’t until the first backpacks were unzipped that I remembered I had somewhere else to be.

  I, too, packed up my supplies—my textbook, my grade book, my personal box of chalk. You never knew when a rogue scholar would steal all the chalk in the building to get out of notetaking. My backpack pocket buzzed, and I checked the number. It was Sophie Barnes! I answered right away.

  “Your hunch was right,” she said. “Tanner died of ethylene glycol poisoning.”

  I leaned against the podium. “I knew it.”

  “That’s why the pH levels were high,” said Sophie. “I should have known it, too.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up,” I said. “There’s no way you could have known what to test for. The nurse told me yesterday it doesn’t show up on a routine blood test. If I hadn’t found the antifreeze container in the trash, we still wouldn’t know.”

  “Thanks.” She exhaled a breath. “Beamer says we can’t assume the antifreeze found in Mrs. Gunderson’s trash was the murder weapon, but I can’t help it. Why else would it be in her receptacle when she doesn’t drive?”

  “Why else, indeed,” I said. “What I don’t understand is why Mrs. Gunderson’s house and not someone else’s?”

  “I think I can answer that,” said Sophie. “From what I can tell, Mrs. Gunderson is a very organized person with a set schedule. Once her trash was out, there would be no reason for her to go near the garage. She’d have no idea it was there.”

  “True,” I said. The next class was starting to file in. I threw my backpack over my shoulder and started toward the door. “But I live right next to her. Didn’t the killer think it was risky leaving it within arm’s reach of a known sleuth?”

  Sophie chuckled. “Maybe you’re not as well-known as you think.”

  * * *

  Despite the cold day, the art gallery was stuffy. It was as if all the artwork on the walls were taking up not only space but air. Besides pictures, there were sculptures, statues, and costumes. I saw Mia’s costume right away. It was a lovely black, white, and gold gown, and as I drew closer, I noted it was designed for Olivia in Twelfth Night. It had to be the one she mentioned last night.

  Though the room was filling quickly, I caught sight of Mia, dressed in a peasant top and wide-legged jeans. She was admiring a statue as she talked to Denton Smart. Next to her, he didn’t look like the reserved scholar from the law library. Basking in Mia’s attention, he exuded a new confidence. His serious brow was relaxed, and he looked almost happy. He might not be so happy if he knew Mia was my primary suspect in Tanner’s death. She fit into every scenario I’d recreated.

  It would have been easy for Mia to slip the flowers into Jacob’s pocket. Sh
e was a costume designer and had access to the actors’ wardrobes. She could also have been the one to place the skull in the bathroom. I had seen her and Mackenzie leave the theater, but maybe that had been a ruse, and she had returned soon after. Plus, Mia could have easily placed the antifreeze in Mrs. Gunderson’s garage. Maybe Lenny was right; maybe it was Occam’s razor. If only I could explain the strand of black hair, the puzzle would be complete.

  The dean of the School of Fine Arts approached the podium, and attendees began taking their seats. Three modest rows of folding chairs had been arranged, and as I took a chair, Lenny breezed in, smelling like the wind. He dumped his messenger bag in the chair next to him.

  “You’re such a nerd,” he whispered. “What are you doing in the front row?”

  I gave him a look. “I want to hear what’s being said. It may be important.”

  He mouthed the word whatever.

  As it turned out, it wasn’t as important as I thought. The dean spoke for two minutes before handing the microphone over to the chair of the Art Department. Near the end of her speech, which outlined many of the graduate students’ accomplishments, the chair announced Mia’s good news. Hoots and hollers accompanied the clapping, and I turned to see Mia’s roommates standing in the audience. Denton was there, too, and Jacob. I listened to the dean’s closing remarks, but my mind was on the group. They were bright students and artistic, too. I’d go so far as to say they stood out in that regard. How could it be that one of them was a murderer? Experience told me it was possible, even probable, but I didn’t want to believe it. Jacob was the lead in Hamlet, Mia had sold a design in New York, Denton was in med school. Then I realized it was those very qualifications that made them good suspects. Whoever had killed Tanner was not only smart but sneaky. He or she was playing a game of matching wits. My only hope was that I played the game better.

  When the dean had finished, Lenny and I made our way to the refreshment table. We were both disappointed to see only coffee and cookies.