Violets Are Blue

by Velvet Vaughn

  "Nice to…." A smile froze on Dean Glasgo’s face and his eyes widened. He didn’t even respond as Jake shook his extended hand. "F-FBI?"

  "Former special agent," Jake corrected. "I'm currently working with a private security firm but I'm acting as the FBI liaison for this case. You're the head of the department, correct?"

  Dean Glasgo’s Adam’s apple bobbed and he nodded mutely.

  "I’d like to stop by your office in a little while and ask you a few questions."

  Dean Glasgo removed a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his brow. Casting a nervous glance at the door, he said, "I’m very busy, but I’ll see if my secretary can fit you in sometime this week."

  Jake studied the dean intently, causing the man to dab furiously. "I already talked to Phyllis," Jake revealed. "She told me you had the morning available and she penciled me in. I’ll stop in before I leave."

  Dean Glasgo nodded reluctantly. Muttering a hasty "Goodbye", he departed with Jake’s gaze following him out the door.

  "What’s up with Dean Fatso?" Todd smirked. "He was tripping there at the end."

  Chris chuckled but Violet winced. She detested that nickname. The dean had always been good to her and she hated anyone making fun of anyone else for any reason. She remembered what it felt like to be the recipient of ridicule.

  "Did he act a little…strange to you?" Jake asked.

  "Always," Todd scoffed.

  Violet shot him a reproachful glance before addressing Jake’s question. "He did seem a bit distracted."

  Jake looked thoughtful. "I guess having three students murdered, one in this building could cause that reaction."

  Violet paled, knowing that feeling all too well.

  "What are you doing here, Detective?" Todd spat the last word out and Violet couldn’t tell if it was because he hated cops or thought Jake wasn’t much of one. "Violet's answered enough questions." Before he could respond, Todd quickly crossed the room and embraced her. "Can’t you see that she has been through an ordeal? Your badgering won’t help anything."

  Chris rolled her eyes behind Todd’s back and Violet suppressed the urge to smile. She glanced at Jake, who had quirked one eyebrow dangerously at Todd. She quickly cut in. "He’s not badgering me, Todd." She extracted herself from his grip as casually as she could manage. "Special Agent Kincaid has been very nice to me."

  #

  Jake grimaced. There was that damn word again. Fluffy bunny rabbits were nice. Warm towels straight from the dryer were nice. This marked the third time Violet had called him nice. He was starting to get a complex. Plus, how many damn times did he have to tell people he wasn't a police detective and he wasn’t technically with the FBI anymore? He was tired of correcting people. He'd just let them think what they wanted to think.

  "Kincaid, is this a good time?"

  Jake turned at the question. Two crime scene technicians stood in the doorway with bulky bags in each hand. "This is perfect. We have three of the faculty here." He faced the questioning looks by the professors. "This is Peggy Tipton and Tony King from the crime scene investigation unit. They're here to fingerprint the staff."

  "Why the hell should we have to give our prints," Timms argued. "We aren’t suspects…are we?"

  "Mr. Timms, right now everyone is a suspect," Jake said bluntly.

  "Why that’s preposterous," Timms blustered.

  Chris huffed at the man’s back and nudged him aside. "I’ll go first," she volunteered.

  "Thanks Ms. Stark," Jake said.

  "Please, it’s Chris." She winked. "Any friend of Violet’s is a friend of mine."

  Jake winked back just for the satisfaction of seeing Timms glare.

  Peggy withdrew a card for Chris to fill out and then handed one to Violet and one to the still-grumbling Timms.

  "I thought we just stuck our hands on iPads or something to take the prints," Timms said snarkily.

  "You mean this?" Tony said, holding up a tablet. "We do both." He had Chris place her hand on the surface and punched a few buttons. Then he opened a black pad and inked Chris’s fingers. Then he rolled the prints onto the card. When he finished, Peggy sprayed cleanser on her hands and handed her a paper towel.

  Violet went next, followed by Todd, who glared at Jake the entire time. Once they finished, Peggy and Tony gathered their supplies and headed to the next office.

  Violet wiped the ink off her hands and tossed her now-black tissue in the waste basket. "I’ll talk to you guys later, okay?"

  Her statement was clearly a dismissal to the poetry professor and tall blonde. Jake hid a smile at the look on the other man’s face. The smile turned to a scowl when Timms hugged Violet and kissed her. He aimed for the lips but she turned her head at the last minute and he grazed her cheek instead.

  "I’ll stop by later to check on you, darling."

  Chris shared a smile with Violet and then gave her a hug as well. She cast a seductive glance at him as she said to Violet, "I want to hear all the details later."

  With a hand to the shorter professor’s back, Chris marched him out of the office. Jake’s fist clinched and released at the urge to punch the little weasel and wipe that smirk off his face. Violet hurried behind the desk, a pink stain coloring her cheeks. She must not be comfortable with public displays of affection from her boyfriend. He glanced at her naked left ring finger. At least they weren’t engaged, or God forbid, married.

  "Please, have a seat." She indicated a chair and he obeyed. Wasn’t that the "nice" thing to do? Sighing, he refocused.

  "I take it you have been besieged with concern?"

  Violet’s brows arched. "How did you know?"

  "You look even more exhausted now than you did this morning." His lips twitched. "Also, I thought you were going to scream at me when I knocked."

  Color infused her cheeks. "No less than fifty people stopped me. I would have been flattered by their concern if most hadn’t prodded for gory details."

  Jake chuckled in sympathy. "I came by to speak with the janitor but Phyllis told me he requested the day off. She couldn’t find an address anywhere on file other than a post office box. Do you know where he might be?"

  Violet averted her gaze. "He had a pre-existing appointment out of town." A pregnant pause. "But I know where he lives."

  Jake’s brows lifted. "You didn’t mention that last night or this morning at the station."

  She met his eyes without flinching. "I know Carlos had nothing to do with this so I didn’t see the point of you questioning him."

  Jake gritted his teeth. "Ms. Anastasia, withholding evidence is an obstruction of justice, a serious crime. We are talking about three murders. All young women. All students from this very university."

  Violet cringed and her mouth dropped open, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. "I didn’t realize…I didn’t think," she stammered.

  Jake glared, his lips thinned with irritation. "No, obviously you didn’t think." He berated himself when he noticed her lower lip trembling and the deepening scarlet blush coloring her cheeks. She gaped at him like he was some damn monster. Hell, he had just treated her like she was the criminal. "Listen, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I apologize."

  She turned away, swiping carelessly at a tear that had fallen down her cheek. "I’m sorry I didn’t give you the address." She rummaged for a pen in her drawer and scribbled on a post-it note.

  Well, he was a sonofabitch. He came to her office for no real reason except that he wanted to see her again and he managed to piss her off and make her cry. Way to go, Kincaid. At least she wouldn't be referring to him as "nice" anymore.

  He accepted the yellow sheet she handed him and folded it so that the sticky back fused together. "Thank you for this. I’ll pay him a visit later."

  She grabbed his arm, startling him. "No, please don’t scare him. He is such a sweet man. He’s very shy around strangers. Besides, he won’t be home until tomorrow."

  "This was a planned trip?"

  Violet nodded. "Why
, does that matter?"

  "No reason," Jake said, making a note to visit Carlos tomorrow. He changed the subject. "Have you had a chance to look around your office, or have you noticed anything missing?"

  Silence met his question. He glanced at Violet, who looked miles away. He could practically see the wheels in her nimble brain cranking.

  "Violet?"

  "Hmm?"

  "I asked if you noticed anything else missing."

  She snapped out of her trance. "Oh, sorry." She scanned the room. "Nothing appears to be out of place." She tugged open a drawer. "That’s odd."

  "What?"

  "I keep a sweater in here in case I get cold. It’s gone."

  "Describe the sweater to me." He was back in investigator mode, pen poised over paper.

  "Black cardigan, long sleeves, DKNY."

  Jake’s lips curved. "You are a bit on the short side, but I would never call you dinky."

  Violet’s face puckered. "I was talking about the designer. Donna Karen, New York."

  Okay, so she wouldn’t be calling him nice or funny. "I was kidding you."

  "Oh."

  Jake bent over his notebook. That’s what he got for trying to make a joke. His old partner Ben was forever trying to get him to loosen up but if he heard his lame attempt at humor, he would be appalled. Maybe he’d try cracking a few one-liners next time they got together so Ben would finally leave him alone.

  He finished noting the missing clothing. "Anything else?"

  Violet shoved items aside in the top drawer. "It’s missing," she gasped.

  Jake was up and around the desk in a flash at the sound of her anguished cry. "What is it?"

  "A picture of my dad, my sister and me. I kept it right here." She indicated an empty space. "It’s gone."

  She described the picture and frame for Jake and shivered. In an instant, he whipped off his suit jacket and draped it across her shoulders. She tugged it tighter around her shoulders.

  "Try not to touch anything," he instructed as he pulled out his cell phone. "I'll get King back in here to dust for prints."

  He made the call, requesting that the technicians stop in when they were finished with the staff and dust for fingerprints around Violet's small office, concentrating on her desk drawers.

  Once he hung up, he glanced at his watch. "Can you get away for a brief lunch?" Jake tried to tell himself that they could go over her statement again but he knew the real reason he asked her out. He wanted to keep her safe. And dammit, he wanted to see her again.

  Violet’s eyes widened. Jake noted the long pause, thinking she must be worried about dweeb-boy getting jealous. Or maybe she didn’t want to be seen with a mean, non-witty gumshoe. He quickly added, "Strictly business. I thought we could go over your statement again."

  "Yes, I’m free. My classes have been cancelled for today."

  Ah well, he had his answer. Make it all business and she was willing. Great. "Great." He plastered on a fake smile. "I need to speak with the Dean first, then I'll come back by to get you."

  #

  Neil Glasgo hurried back to his office and slammed the door closed, almost smashing Phyllis in the face. Blood pounded in his ears as he ripped off his sport coat and peeled the soaked oxford away from his skin. He hadn’t been this nervous in years. He had to loosen the tie around his neck or he might choke himself trying to breathe.

  Unable to cool his boiling blood, he rushed to the window and sprung the lock. Forcing the heavy pane open, his heaving lungs drank in the single digit temps. The calm breeze began to rapidly cool his heated skin.

  How long did he have until the FBI Special Agent came in to question him? Minutes? Hours? He could stall, tell Phyllis he had an emergency call and had to leave.

  But that man looked determined. He wouldn’t be put off for long. What if he became suspicious and started digging on his own? His chest started heaving again.

  They wouldn’t find out. They couldn’t.

  He had to get out of here.

  He jerked his parka off the coat rack and stuffed his arms inside. As overheated as he was, he didn’t need the damn thing but Phyllis would be suspicious if he left without it. Or more suspicious. She was skeptical by nature. Hooking his fingers around the handle, he lifted his briefcase. Phyllis looked up in startled surprise as he barreled through the door. "I have an emergency I need to take care of," he told his secretary, not pausing to answer the meddlesome questions he knew were poised on the tip of her tongue.

  She jumped to her feet. "But I penciled in an appointment with that nice Mr. Kincaid."

  "You'll have to postpone," he said not breaking stride.

  Phyllis hurried after him. "Do you want me to reschedule for later today?"

  How about never, he wanted to say. "I don’t know how long this will take," he said instead. "I’ll be gone all weekend."

  "Then first thing Monday," she insisted.

  "Fine."

  Maybe by then he would come up with a plan.

  #

  Jake rapped lightly on Violet’s door. She looked up and her eyes widened. "That was quick."

  "Glasgo had an emergency and had to leave," he said with a frown. "I have to wait until Monday to talk to him." Apparently the man didn’t see the need for urgency even though co-eds from his department were being murdered at an alarming rate. He'd been acting strange earlier. Did he have something to hide?

  "You would think he’d want to help catch this man before he could kill again."

  Jake’s thoughts exactly. "Are you ready to go?"

  She nodded. He helped her into her heavy overcoat and waited while she retrieved her purse. She had twisted the ponytail she wore earlier into some kind of tight bun on the back of her head and he had to stop his hand from ripping the clip out and freeing the black silk.

  He led her to the Ford sedan the BPD loaned him to use. Lifting the handle on the passenger side, he waited for her to fasten her seat belt before closing the door. He rounded the hood and settled behind the wheel. As he stuck the key in the ignition, he chanced a look at her. She was sitting with her back straight, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, staring forward. She seemed nervous.

  Well, who are you kidding? You are, too.

  It was a first for him. He never hesitated around women. When he saw one he wanted, he went for it. He wasn’t arrogant, but he couldn’t remember ever being turned down. But none of those women made him feel the way this fragile beauty did.

  Backing out of the parking space, he glimpsed Timms in the rear view mirror. If looks could kill, Jake would be six feet under. Pure rage etched the man’s face. Slowing the car, he asked, "Do you need to let your boyfriend know where we're going?"

  "Who?"

  "Your boyfriend. The man scowling at us over there."

  Violet whirled in her seat. "Oh, Todd." She simply waved and Timms reluctantly returned the gesture.

  Jamming the car into drive, Jake motored out of the parking lot. "Look, I’ll explain to him when we get back that I took you to lunch because I needed to go over your statement again."

  Violet eyed him curiously. "Why would you do that?"

  "So he doesn’t get the wrong idea."

  "Don’t worry, that’s just Todd. He's very protective."

  Yeah, well, it was a good thing the man couldn’t read his thoughts. He pounded the brakes a little too hard. "How long have you two been together?"

  Violet released her death grip on the dashboard. "Who?"

  Okay, now she was starting to sound like an owl. One more "who" and he’d lose it. It didn’t seem like a trick question when he asked it. "You and your boyfriend."

  Understanding dawned. "Oh, Todd’s not my boyfriend."

  Jake’s eyes snapped to her face. "He’s not?"

  She shook her head. "He is just a good friend. I don’t have a boyfriend."

  Jake immediately perked up. So the jerk wasn’t her boyfriend. She didn’t have one. Knowing that shouldn’t make him this ridiculously h
appy. Nothing could come of a relationship with her. He lived too far away, not to mention the fact that he needed to catch a serial killer and she was a witness. That should have been his entire focus, not the beautiful raven-haired goddess perched next to him.

  They ate lunch at a quaint sandwich shop a few blocks from campus, never once discussing the case. They chatted comfortably about current events and activities around the university. Jake paid the bill and then held the car door open for her. Once she was settled, he walked around and slid inside. He noted the cloudy, gray sky. "I heard there is a chance of a couple of feet of snow tonight." His seatbelt had just clicked into place when Violet blurted, "You have to let me go with you to talk to Carlos."

  Okay, that came from left field. His hand stopped midway to the ignition. Of all the responses he expected to his weather comment, that one hadn’t even been a blip on the radar. Jake studied her. She was silently pleading to him with a fierce look of protectiveness. This was important to her. Carlos was important to her. He hated to be responsible for the frown about to mar those luscious lips. "I’m sorry, Violet, this is a homicide investigation. I’m afraid I can’t let you."

  She looked at him with beseeching eyes and seized his arm. A little too forcefully. He winced. "Please, you have to let me come. Carlos is so timid, he will be terrified."

  "You know, I’m not an ogre," he laughed, trying to lighten the mood. And her grip. It didn’t work. "I’m not going to browbeat him or anything, just ask a few questions."

  "I wasn’t suggesting that you would. But you don’t understand. He has been through so much. His family was murdered in Colombia and he witnessed the whole thing, barely escaping with his life. He hid out for a week before he could get away. When he did, he was captured and thrown into a primitive prison. He languished in that rat-hole for over six months before he managed to escape, half starved. He made it to the United States and had to forge a new life on his own in a country where he didn’t even know the language. He's working at the University so that he can take classes for free. He wants to make something out of himself."

  "I understand your concern—"