* * * *
However, the thought that she was being remiss in her responsibilities nagged at her mind, growing in intensity. Still, she could manage to forget about it while she was at work because the job kept her so busy. But the following morning, there was no such distraction. It also occurred to her that Margrove had attacked her on the parking deck and could well have been her assailant at Dr. Forbes’ house. If that were true, he was very likely a murderer despite his claims to the contrary.
She phoned Gardner around ten o’clock. He was already at headquarters. She told him about her run-in with Nick Margrove the previous day. As expected, he was annoyed with her for not informing him sooner. She could hear it in the tone of his voice, although he didn’t outright lecture her.
“I’m having the kid picked up. You’re going to press assault charges, and that’s how we’ll nail him.”
She didn’t argue with the policeman. Gardner was right, of course; even if Nick were not the murderer, he probably had a pretty fair idea who might be.
The rest of the morning was spent rereading the last part of Jen’s diary. Ma’s younger sister had been a sensitive, gentle girl of fifteen. In the last section of the diary, she told of her love for a boy near her own age, how deep their feelings for each other ran. She romanticized about the commitment they made to each other. Some months later, she expressed her sorrow that this special boy had moved away to another state with his family. In the final pages, she agonized over keeping a secret from her family:
No one must find out. I’ll hide it from them as long as I can. Mother has had enough grief. I could talk to Sis but she’s having all this trouble with Carl. He has to have another operation. He’s in so much pain. I can’t bother them with my troubles; it wouldn’t be right. No one has to know, at least not right away. If only he were still here! But what could he do anyway?
Kim found herself unable to read any more and set the diary aside. Before Ma left, they would have to talk, to clear away the cobwebs and let their relationship see the light of day. That could only happen if Ma were honest about what had happened to her sister.
* * * *
Again consigned to working the late shift, Kim made the best of things and worked cheerfully with Rita who was grumbling about having to work too many evenings.
“I’m not going to answer phones tonight. Tell the grad student that’s her job.”
There were so many requests for help that before Kim knew it, the dinner hour had rolled around. And suddenly with no surprise, Lieutenant Gardner walked up to the reference desk. Just the sight of him made her blood heat. It was like being hit by lightning.
“Can I help you?” she asked as if he were just an ordinary patron.
“Yeah, you get a dinner break around now?”
“Want me to take it immediately?”
It was obvious that he did. She told Rita, who grimaced at her. “Well, what if I want to go first? After all, I do have seniority.”
“Whatever you like,” she said pleasantly, ignoring Rita’s petulance.
“No, I have to talk to her now.” Gardner flashed his badge at Rita Mosler and she recoiled anxiously.
“Well, take your time then.”
“Thanks for being so understanding,” Gardner said. Rita appeared to miss his irony.
“You work with her a lot?” Gardner remarked as they passed through security.
“Very often,” she acknowledged.
He shook his head. “So where do people eat around here?”
“The Commons has a place, but it’s more for lunch than dinner. I usually brown bag it in the evening. There’s lots of places out near the bookstore, even a McDonald’s.”
“Just the closest place.” His tone was grim. She decided then that the best place would be the Student Center. It was large, impersonal and there was a variety of things to buy.
It was a crisp autumn evening and the walk was pleasant, but Mike Gardner’s expression remained dour. They both purchased sandwiches and coffee and Gardner picked an isolated spot to sit.
She studied his craggy features as he carefully spread a packet of mustard on his bologna sandwich. His fingers were long and artistic.
“So you like bologna, Lieutenant?”
“Only in my sandwiches,” he said.
She took a sip of coffee and found it bitter.
“My wife used to make me bologna or turkey sandwiches for lunch. But she put so much mustard on them, it ruined the sandwiches for me. I think it was her way of punishing me for not having more meals with her at home. I should have paid attention.”
They ate together in relative silence. He seemed to want her to finish eating before he told her whatever it was he’d come to say. But she found it difficult to swallow her food, wondering what his news could be.
“So you had a good day?” she prodded, finishing off her BLT.
“Up to a point. I see a lot of dead people in my line of work, but I never really get used to it.”
“What dead people are you talking about?”
His eyes darkened like clouds before a gathering storm. His mouth was taut. “You might as well know. Nick Margrove turned up dead today. When we couldn’t locate him, I put out an all points. Too late. He seems to be the most recent victim of our killer. Some kids spotted him floating face down in the river. I don’t have the autopsy results yet, but preliminary findings indicate that death was not due to natural causes.”
“I don’t think the details are important for me to know. Thank you for waiting until after I ate to tell me about it.”
“There’s something else.” His eyes met hers directly. “There’s already been one attempt on your life. I want you to be very careful. I’ve got this bad feeling.”
She thought over what he said. “You really think I’m in danger?”
“You may have been the last person to see Margrove before he disappeared. The killer might think he told you something, something that implicated him. You don’t know anything, do you? Because if you do, you’ve got to tell me. You’re smart enough to see that.” His eyes had the intensity of searchlights.
“He didn’t tell me any more than he told you. Honor bright, Lieutenant.”
He accepted that with a grave nod of his head. “Okay, but you have to promise to phone me day or night if anything comes up.” He removed a black notebook from his jacket pocket, took out a ballpoint pen, and neatly wrote out his home phone number. Then he ripped the paper out of the small loose-leaf binder and handed it to her. “Day or night. I mean that. I’m going to really be pissed off if you don’t.”
“Okay, but I don’t expect any further problems.”
“You do have a long nose.”
“Lieutenant, I don’t like my appearance insulted.”
“You know what I mean. You have a habit of poking around where you don’t belong. This killer is obsessive. Could be he’s not finished.”
“If anything occurs to me or anything happens, I promise to call.”
“The thing is, all our leads have dried up now that Margrove is dead. He was the only connection we had to the others. I figured if we kept after him with enough persistence, he’d either lead us to the killer or make some kind of a confession. Now that he’s dead, I think the case is dead too.”
“You’re not going to just forget about it?” she asked in an alarmed voice.
“No, but there are other pressing cases I have to investigate. Believe it or not, we actually do have other crimes that need solving.”
She told him that she understood, even if she really didn’t. They parted company then and Kim took a brief walk on campus lost in thought before returning to the library. If this case went unsolved, it wouldn’t mean much to a professional policeman like Gardner. After all, just as he said, there were plenty of other cases that demanded his time. But it was different for her. She was personally involved. The killer might not forget about her, but she wasn’t going to forget about her friend’s murder either.
/>
EIGHTEEN
Don Bernard phoned her early the following morning. “I’m doing a lecture today on Shakespeare’s villains. Want to come by? Afterwards, perhaps we could have lunch together again.”
“Only if it’s Dutch treat. I don’t want to bankrupt you.”
“I can’t think of a nicer way to become poor.” His voice was as rich as finely textured velvet.
“After an invitation like that, how can I refuse?”
She hung up the receiver, thinking that Don was a very charming man. What, if anything, might come of their relationship, she did not know. Don was in his late thirties and had never married. She doubted he had ever been seriously committed to any woman.
Although the room was already neat, she looked around to see if anything needed straightening. Realizing the obsessive nature of her action, she quietly stopped, sat down and took stock of herself. What she saw did not entirely please her. At one time, she felt too much, had been hurt too easily by others. She’d learned to hold people at a distance, to exercise control and restraint in human relationships, but now all she had was an empty, lonely life, a void where there should have been real feelings. Lorette had been no different. They’d both been afraid. She did not want to eventually die realizing that she’d never lived. Maybe one had to accept pain, to understand that it was inescapable and part of the human condition.
* * * *
Kim arrived on campus at ten. She meant to come at the beginning of Don’s lecture, but she hadn’t slept well again, and it caused her to get a late start. Lurid, intense dreams had plagued her once more. Kinley Hall looked anything but tidy. Candy and gum wrappers were strewn in the corridor. In the graduate student lounge, coffee cups lay around and the trash barrel overflowed.
She stopped by Pat Norris’s desk. “So I take it Frank still isn’t back?”
“You take it correctly,” the secretary responded peevishly. “I’ve asked for a replacement.”
“Does anyone know what’s happened to him?”
Pat shook her head, and the frosted curls of her newly restyled hairdo undulated like waves.
“I was under the impression that he was very reliable.”
“So was I. He never missed a day of work, even when he was under the weather.” Pat’s voice lowered. “He was known to imbibe a little. But it didn’t seem to interfere with his performance.”
“Have you called his home?”
Pat gave her an exasperated look. “Of course.”
Kim’s mind speculated. “Does he have any family?”
“None that I know about. And I don’t know of any friends either. Most people didn’t take to him that easily.”
She thought of the custodian’s leering smile and agreed silently.
“Why all this interest in Frank?” Pat asked her.
“Just curiosity. We talked a few times.”
Walking down the corridor, Kim fished into her pocketbook and drew out Lieutenant Gardner’s number. Should she call him? If she told him what she suspected, he’d probably laugh at her. And he’d be right. She had no solid facts, only suspicions that were likely wrong. She shook her head and put the piece of paper away. She wasn’t eager to make a fool of herself.
She walked quickly up the stairs to the second floor and quietly entered Don’s classroom. Professor Bernard was in excellent form, full of vitality and excitement. Every student in the room seemed rapt in his lecture. He was discussing Richard III and he smiled in her direction, noting her presence. She smiled back and tried hard to pay attention, but good as he was, her mind kept wandering back to the janitor’s disappearance.
* * * *
Lunch with Don was pleasant. He was still on a high.
“You inherited your mother’s talent for performing.”
“Think so? I’m not an actor by any means, but I do think teaching compares to some degree. It’s important to enthrall a class, to give a dynamic performance.”
They were in a local Chinese restaurant, and she was biting thoughtfully into a shrimp roll. “Was Lionel Forbes like that? Did he captivate his students?”
“Most assuredly. The man had the gift to mesmerize. I heard him speak on several occasions. Strong visceral appeal. The Adolf Hitler of the intellectual set.”
She shuddered. “Suppose he wasn’t really dead?” There, she had said it. Now she waited for some response.
Don stared at her in surprise. “Oh, I believe Hitler’s definitely dead. They’ve only been sighting Elvis lately.” Don was treating her question with levity and it bothered her.
“You know I’m referring to Dr. Forbes.”
“And you know better than anyone that Lionel burned to death in that fire, since you nearly died in it yourself.”
“The police assumed it was Dr. Forbes who died in the fire because that was what they expected. But what if it was another man, someone just about Dr. Forbes’ size and build?”
Don shook his head. “I don’t think there’s anything to this, but you ought to talk to the police if you’re convinced.”
“I’m almost ready to do that,” she told him. She nibbled on a sparerib distractedly.
Don took her hand. Then he kissed each of her fingers in turn. “Tasty sauce.”
“I think you better let me wipe my hands.”
“You’re not an easy woman to romance. I want to get to know you better. What are you doing tonight?”
“Don’t you think we’re rushing it a bit?” The old uneasiness returned.
“Not at all. I ask myself why I haven’t done this before. So what about tonight?”
She made up her mind with uncharacteristic speed and decisiveness. “Why don’t you come by my apartment for dinner?”
“Sounds perfect.”
“Only it has to be tomorrow. I’m working the evening shift again. But I believe I can get someone to change with me for tomorrow.”
“Better idea. There’s an English Colloquium tomorrow. Stop by at the dinner hour and we’ll spend some time together. I don’t want you to have a problem with your supervisor.”
“Fine. I’ll meet you, and my invitation is good for the evening after. I have a day off then.”
“I like the fact that you’re including me in your future,” he said, exuding warmth.
After Don took her back to Kinley to pick up her car, she drove over to the library. Early for her shift, she sat at her desk and checked out her mail. Nothing threatening this time. She breathed a sigh of relief.
But the thought nagged her that she ought to find out conclusively about Frank’s disappearance if that were at all possible. She put in a call to Personnel. There was no time to apply for the information she wanted in person. She’d also discovered that very often just as much can be accomplished over the telephone.
She made an effort to speak in an authoritative manner, going through two secretaries before she was connected to the right administrative assistant. But the woman wasn’t going to make it easy for her.
“Why did you say you needed the information?” The voice was dubious and not easily convinced.
“I am a secretary to Dr. Chesington, the English Chairperson, and I have been delegated to discover why Mr. Swallinsky is not at his job. Do you have any idea why our custodian has not been in recently? It would seem that your office should be informed. Dr. Chesington is quite distraught.” She put the woman on the defensive.
“I assure you we will be looking into it.”
“Actually,” Kim said, “I intend to look into the matter myself. Could you give me Mr. Swallinsky’s address and telephone number right now?”
“That is somewhat irregular.”
“Hurry up, please; Dr. Chesington is not a patient man. Believe me, you don’t want him angry at you.”
That seemed to clinch it. Kim was asked to hold on while the assistant checked. She felt uneasy during what seemed an interminable amount of time, but finally the lady returned to the phone. She had never done anything so disreputable in
her entire life and wondered fleetingly if she could be arrested for telephone fraud. But she held resolutely to her purpose.
Both the address and phone number turned out to be local. As soon as she’d hung up with the personnel assistant, Kim phoned Frank’s apartment, but just as Pat Norris had told her, there was no answer. She let the phone ring at least nine times. She decided to drive over to his apartment and see for herself if there was any sign of him.
She was working with a very agreeable person today, and there was no problem with her taking the dinner hour and break together. That gave her a full hour and a half, plenty of time to check out Frank Swallinsky’s place, which was in the city.
His building turned out to be an old brick apartment house. It looked sturdier than the worn wooden frame houses in the neighborhood. But the area had seen better days. She saw no adults around, just some small children playing in front of the building.
There were five floors to the apartment house besides the basement level. Frank’s name appeared on a small plate next to a bell along with the other tenants. There was not a plate for each bell so it seemed that the building wasn’t fully occupied. She glanced around before ringing. Garbage overflowed cans at the sidewalk and graffiti was sprayed across the bricks.
She rang Frank’s bell, not getting a response. A woman carrying groceries came along and opened the door with a key. Kim slipped in behind her. She took the stairs quickly, got up to the third floor and hurried down the sinister, darkly lit corridor. It wasn’t difficult to find 3C, Frank’s apartment. But when she rang and knocked, no one answered. Finally, she tried the door just in case it was open—no such luck.
She ran down the stairs again and out into the fresh air. The building had made her feel claustrophobic. No, it was more than that; she had a bad feeling, an instinct, that all was not well with the diminutive custodian. She walked around by the basement and found the superintendent’s apartment. Fortunately, he was working inside.
The Inferno Collection Page 18
