Angry Arrow

by N. C. Lewis

  "Please, take a seat at the table," Charlotte said pleasantly. "Let's warm ourselves up with a fresh pot of tea."

  She sat down, her back to the fire, front facing the door. Automatically I sat down in the place set opposite her and looked around again. "Oh, it is wonderfully warm and cozy in here. The Wimberly Players are fortunate indeed to own this vehicle."

  "Oh yes," she replied, nodding her head and heaving a dainty little sigh. "The vehicle belongs to me. I refurbished it with the help of Daddy's money. When our troop plays out of town, I use it to carry along props and supplies."

  "Tell me about your dad," I said playing with a china cup.

  "Oh my! Let me pour you a cup of tea first. Do you like Tieguanyin tea?"

  "Not sure, I've not tried that before."

  "Oh, you must," she said with a shaky laugh. "It's a type of oolong tea named after a Buddhist deity, Tieguanyin, the Iron Goddess of Mercy."

  Charlotte reached for the teapot. "Let me prepare a fresh pot," she said, standing up and walking over to the kitchen area. She scooped leaves out of a container into the teapot and added hot water. Then she glanced over her shoulder. "Ah, there they are!"

  With quick steps, she came back to the table and picked up the teacups. Then with her back to me poured out two cups, carrying them carefully back to the table.

  "I had breakfast with Daddy on Monday. He loved it, and so will you." Charlotte flashed a sweet, innocent smile as she placed a cup in front of me. Next, she sat down and picked up her cup as if to sip, but put it back down in the saucer, her hand trembling. She raked her hair with her fingers. "Let me refill the kettle," she said, getting up again and walking back to the kitchen area.

  The kettle filled, she returned to the table.

  "Daddy tried Tieguanyin tea for the first time when I had breakfast with him, earlier this week."

  "You did mention you had breakfast with your dad, on Monday," I said touching the side of my face.

  "Oh yes, it is such a relief to know that one of the last things he tasted was of such high quality."

  For half a minute or so, neither of us spoke. But I knew Charlotte was watching me. I could feel her eyes darting between the cup and my face.

  "Try it," she said at last. "You'll love the mixture of partially fermented green and black teas."

  I drew the cup to my lips. The clear steam wafted up in little white puffs. It had a light, fresh, soothing fragrance, somewhere between a peach and roasting chestnuts.

  "Oh, it smells so good. Too good to drink," I said with a smile.

  "Go ahead," she said leaning forward, "take a taste. Three sips will be enough." Her eyes were wide in eager anticipation.

  I placed the cup back in its saucer.

  "Where are the other players?" I asked almost absentmindedly.

  Charlotte stretched out her fingers in mild annoyance. "The other players?"

  "Yes, don't you have a rehearsal this evening?" I pulled out my cell phone, glanced at the screen and placed it on the table next to my cup. "Shouldn’t the other actors be here by now? It's almost seven twenty."

  Red spots appeared on Charlotte's cheeks. They grew like petals opening at dawn. "Oh… I must have gotten my days muddled." She tapped a finger on the side of her forehead. "Yes, that's it. I got the days wrong. Practice is on Friday. Silly me!"

  "Oh," I said. "I see." And I did. I saw it all now, and it gave me a nasty little twinge of fear.

  "Drink up," she said.

  "You’re the host. You go first."

  Charlotte placed the cup to her lips and took a sip. She half closed her eyes savoring the flavor. "Delicious, simply delicious," she murmured.

  I placed the cup to my lips and took a sip, then another, and another. She was right. It was good—very good.

  Chapter 38

  Rain and wind thrashed against the RV with a metallic clatter. Charlotte rubbed her hands together and let out a wild laugh. "Tieguanyin is a very expensive tea. Too good for an old hag like you," she said, with a cold smile.

  I remained silent, and let the insult pass, knowing now she would tell me what I wanted to know.

  Charlotte stood up, walked back to the kitchen area, opened a cupboard and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. "I don't smoke, really, only when I'm feeling stressed, and waiting." She shook out a cigarette and lit it. The tip glowed orange like the setting sun. She inhaled deeply, and watched me closely, her eyes wide with anticipation.

  "Charlotte," I said, taking another sip and moistening my lips slightly. "I know you killed your father, and I think I know why."

  She arched her brows, returned to the table and took a second sip from her cup. "So, you figured it out?"

  "Yep!"

  Charlotte let out a savage laugh. Her eyes were dark vengeance, and her voice was as bitter as the north wind. She began to speak fast as if time itself was running out.

  "Oh, I'm an actress darling, we do everything for love and money. I killed Daddy because he had the money and wouldn’t give it to me. That philistine had no appreciation of the finer things in life. He refused to fund my acting lifestyle. Told me to get a regular nine-to-five office job! I couldn’t do it; a soul-sucking job under artificial light in an office cubical would kill me! So, Daddy had to go."

  Carefully, I set my cup down into its saucer and stared at Charlotte. What kind of twisted mind, I thought, could kill their own father and be so calm about it. Charlotte smiled back, it was a cross between a grin and a full-out laugh. "Guess I wanted to get it off my chest. Tell you everything before…"

  I leaned forward, my eyes wide. "Before what?"

  There was no expression on her cold hard face, but she nodded toward my cup.

  "You die!" Charlotte spat out the words in a sneering tone. "Nothing can get between me and the artistic life I wish to live. Not Daddy, and not you. That's why I added a little something to your tea."

  "A little something?" I quizzed shifting in my seat.

  Charlotte began to laugh. "Ha-ha-ha!"

  "What did you put in the tea?" I demanded.

  Her lips curled into an angry snarl.

  "Methylphenidate hydrochloride."

  There was a pause. I stared at Charlotte, and she stared back. I glanced down at the teacup for a moment. Then stretched out my hand, picked it up, took a long sip, rolled the liquid around my mouth and swallowed. I set it down gently in its saucer.

  Charlotte's mouth hung open. Cigarette ashes fell onto the table.

  I waited for her to say something, but she just stared mutely.

  "Charlotte," I said at last, "I switched the cups. Looks like you've poisoned yourself."

  Charlotte picked up her cup, stared into it, then slammed it on the table. The amber liquid slopped over the edge. She sat there staring straight ahead toward the door, biting her lower lip.

  Her face twisted, and she slumped forward knocking the cups, sugar bowl, and my cell phone onto the floor. The cell phone rolled under the table.

  "I've got to get you to a hospital," I said softly, looking at the floor for my phone.

  Charlotte began to sob. "Please, call for help. I don't want to die!"

  Just then the RV door flew open. A dark figure loomed in the doorway. I didn’t recognize the person at first, but when I did, I gasped in horror.

  "Dan Sweet!"

  Chapter 39

  The short, little man's big eyes grew wide, and his tight, small mouth curled into a snarl. He didn’t say a word for a moment. He didn’t have to. I could see the evil gleam in his eyes and bitter hatred consuming his very being.

  "Doctor Stratford," he said at last, "you're supposed to be dead!" He looked at me inquiringly for an instant and shook his head. "Charlotte must I always finish the job for you? What happened?"

  "The old hag switched drinks on me," Charlotte groaned, "I drank the poisoned potion! Please, Dan, get me to the hospital. I love you." She had a dreamy smile plastered on her face as if she thought everything would go perfectly now her Princ
e Charming had arrived. But murder is never perfect, it goes hand in hand with treachery.

  Dan moved forward an inch, glared at Charlotte and cursed in a thick, dull voice with an intensity that caused Charlotte to shriek.

  "But Dan, you love me, don't you? I killed Daddy for his money, and for you. I love you!"

  Dan Sweet laughed. His laughter had a dull sound like the thud of a blacksmith's hammer.

  "Charlotte dear, we've only been together for a few months, that's awfully soon to make a lifetime commitment. Anyway, I only seduced you to spite Andy. Once I'd helped you spend his money and got my promotion, I was gonna get rid of you. Can't have any loose ends, not when the crime is murder. Methylphenidate hydrochloride is not a bad way to go, darling Charlotte. A rapid irregular heartbeat, a little delirium, a touch of panic and psychosis, and then, heart failure! Ha-ha-ha."

  "No!" Charlotte cried. "You said you loved me!" The exertion proved too much. Consciousness evaporated, and she slumped to the ground like a deflated balloon.

  Dan watched with an evil grin. "Seems she is to die like her dear daddy, with a little push from Dan Sweet. Ha-ha-ha."

  He turned now, toward me, his face scrunched into a hateful ball.

  "All I got to do now is get rid of you!"

  Chapter 40

  Closing the door, Dan stepped inside the RV with swift deliberate footsteps. His face was consumed with fury, his eyes mere black slits, and he made a snarling sound as he advanced toward the table.

  My eyes darted around in a panic. I fought back an impulse to run. There was only one way out, and Dan Sweet blocked it. Despite Dan's lack of height, I knew I couldn’t get by him. I glanced at the ground—my cell phone! If I could get to it, I'd have a chance. I dove under the table. Broken bits of china scattered as I clawed for it.

  It was three inches from my right hand when he yelled, "Get up, you miserable woman!" And tugged at my left arm. I stretched forward with my right side. I clawed at the phone. For an instant, it was at my fingertips. A sharp tug by Dan on my left side, and it rolled away.

  Again, I clawed forward, but it was too late. It was hopeless—hopeless.

  Dan dragged me to my feet.

  "Help! Help! Help!" I screamed.

  "Shut up!"

  A sharp slap stung my face. Then another. This time a fist. It cracked hard against my jaw.

  I raised my arms to cover my head.

  Another fist barreled into my head.

  Dizzy, I stumbled backward. Dan grabbed my right wrist.

  "I'm going to kill you, but not here," he hissed. "Make it look like you killed Charlotte, then… yourself."

  His grip on my wrist tightened. Firmly I covered Dan's hand with my other hand. Then I drove down my thumb between the knuckles of his index and middle fingers. I moved with speed, and in one smooth move broke his hand free. Dan staggered backward shaking his hand. I rushed by him, barging toward the closed door.

  It flew open.

  A pair of startled eyes stared back.

  Then another.

  Two men stood at the entrance of the RV, one lanky, the other short and fat—the crew hands.

  "Frank, I told you something wasn’t right," said the short fat man peering into the RV.

  "Doctor Stratford, isn’t it?" said Frank, " I remember you from the mystery of the magic mumbles."

  "Quick! Call an ambulance for the woman! That man tried to kill me!" I yelled.

  Dan Sweet, still shaking his hand, moved toward the two men. His face was full of fury, and he raised his fists. His only way out was with brute force.

  "Don't move," said Frank, flashing a knife, and bearing his teeth like an angry wolf.

  Dan wrinkled his nose, squinted up at the men with an air of desperation. But he was outnumbered. He dropped his hands. They dangled like overripe bananas at his side. After a moment's hesitation, he backed away, sat at the table, and laughed with bitter sarcasm.

  "Arthur, call the sheriff's department, and EMS."

  "On it," replied Arthur, his cell phone pressed hard against his ear.

  Chapter 41

  One week later, Chancellor Cannington's office, Medlin Creek Community College…

  "That settles it then?" inquired Chancellor Cannington.

  "Yes," I said with a smile. "I accept your apology but cannot accept the position."

  "Oh," he said, leaning forward. "Why not?"

  "You see, Chancellor Cannington, I have an event center business to run. Serving as the acting head would take up too much time. It's not that I don't want the extra money, it's simply that I've decided to focus on growing my business."

  "So," he said with hesitation, "you'd be happy to remain in your current position, perhaps with a bump in the pay scale?"

  "Exactly."

  "Consider it done."

  I got up to leave. "And Ava Torgersen?" I inquired, with a hand on the door handle.

  Chancellor Cannington shuffled papers on his desk and signaled me to sit back down.

  "Professor Torgersen is no longer with Medlin Creek Community College. She left last Thursday. That was before your incident at the Lilly building."

  He paused, staring directly into my eyes.

  "What I say next, you never heard from me, is that correct?"

  "Yes," I said, leaning forward. "I won't speak a word."

  He folded his arms across his chest. "An anonymous source tipped off the board about her role in illegal gambling. That she went by the underground name of Galga…" He paused, rubbed his chin, and continued, "… and owed several thousand dollars in gambling debts."

  I opened my eyes in mock surprise. "Galga! Illegal betting! Thousands of dollars in gambling debts! Who would have thought?"

  "Yes, yes," he said, his eyes also wide. "She worked well as our office redecoration coordinator. All requests for renovations from the other professors went through her. It's a one-year position that rotates through the department. I believe Andy Arrow was next in line to get his office done. Anyway, she was totally unfit to lead. Do you know that when Ava left the college for the very last time, she walked along Creek Street, during a thunderstorm, peering into the storefront windows?"

  "What was she looking for?"

  "You and a reporter by the name of Millie Watkins. Professor Ava Torgersen got it into her head that you and Millie Watkins were responsible for her termination. That is untrue. It was an anonymous tip from the underworld, a mafia tip of sorts."

  I leaned back in my chair. "Mafia! That's not good."

  "Not to worry," Chancellor Cannington said, again shuffling papers. "Ava has left town. My contacts say she is seeking employment in Florida. Of course, the college will give her a fair and acceptable reference when the time comes."

  I got up to leave.

  "Oh, Doctor Stratford, "he said, as I opened the door. "Congratulations on winning the Professor of the Year award. I won it myself five years ago. It's a wonderful honor."

  ◆◆◆

  Later that day Moozoos Café…

  "Oh my gosh, Ollie! I've never felt so good about the future." Millie held up the front page of the Austin American Statesman.

  "Mysterious Hill Country Death of College Academic Solved by Amateur Sleuth."

  I took a sip from my cup, a Creek Jolt. "Yep, it's kind of amazing, " I said, reading the small print of the article. "But do you know what I love the best?"

  "No, what?"

  I pointed to the top of the page.

  "Article contributed by Ms. Millie Watkins, Reporter for the Medlin Creek Times."

  "Choo, choo," sang Millie, jumping up and doing a little salsa jig. "The gravy train has arrived at Station Millie Watkins."

  The barista, with a tea towel around his arm, hurried over to our table. His eyes flashed with pride. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, I can't believe two of my regular customers are famous—A sleuth and a reporter. Whoa!"

  He sat down at our table. "What did the owner of the Medlin Creek Times say about your article?"


  Millie grinned. "The owner said, if I can write an article from my hospital bed, I deserve to be a full-time employee at the newspaper."

  "Your hospital bed?"

  "Oh," said Millie waving a hand. "Big shot businesspeople are like, always muddling things up."

  "Oh yes," agreed the barista. "Why, some of those office folks can barely remember my name, and they stop by the café every morning. The higher up the corporate ladder you go, the worse their memory is. Go figure!"

  Everyone laughed.

  "So," said the barista glancing at Millie, "do I take it you are now a full-time reporter for the Medlin Creek Times?"

  Millie glanced out of the window onto Creek Street. A bright sun shone in a clear blue sky, and the stormy weather of last week was a distant memory.

  "Not yet," she said at last, "but it's now an item of discussion for my next performance evaluation."

  The doorbell rang. In strolled Deputy Dingsplat. The assistant barista served him, and he strolled over to our table with a Texas swagger.

  "Nice work," he said, taking a seat. "Got to thank y'all for putting the puzzle together. This was a messy one. Can't say I've come across anything like it in my years patrolling Medlin Creek."

  "It's Charlotte I feel sorry for," I said, staring off into the distance.

  "The law doesn’t feel," responded Deputy Dingsplat. "Once she has made a full recovery, she'll stand trial for the murder of Andy Arrow."

  "Strange what love will do," chipped in the barista. "I guess she really did love Dan Sweet."

  "Maybe," replied Deputy Dingsplat. "But she is singing like a canary in a cage, pointing the finger for everything squarely at Dan. But she is a tough cookie and hasn’t shown any remorse."

  "That's odd. I wonder why not?" I asked.

  "Could be because Andy Arrow is not her real father," he suggested. "She was adopted as a baby. I guess she may have bitter feelings about that."