Final Appeal

by Joanne Fluke

  CHAPTER 24

  “You have a great apartment, Lenny.” Babsie flipped eggs onto a plate, added four strips of extra-crispy bacon, and set it down in front of him. “A disposal, a dishwasher, a built-in microwave. You sure know how to live in luxury.”

  Lenny grinned as he dug into his breakfast. It had been a lucky night when he’d picked up Babsie. Not only was she a hell of an organizer at the store, but she could cook like a dream, and she loved his apartment. He hoped that Margo was twirling in her grave about now. The last time he’d brought her here, she’d called it a dump

  Babsie thought his apartment was wonderful, and Lenny could understand why. He’d seen the hole where she lived when he’d followed her home that first night. The neighborhood was anything but safe, and she had four locks on her door just to protect the few things she had. Babsie didn’t have much. He’d checked it out while she was in the little closet she called her powder room. He’d poked around, checking out the place. She owned four little skirts, four blouses, one dress, and two pairs of shoes. That was all she had in her closet, plus the hooker outfit she’d been wearing the night he’d met her.

  Her place was clean. Lenny had noticed that. The old linoleum floors sparkled, and there wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere. Babsie was a very good housekeeper, but she didn’t have much to show for it. Her furniture was so old and rundown, Lenny doubted Salvation Army would take it as a donation. Come to think of it, that was probably where she’d gotten it in the first place. She’d tried to fix it up with covers she’d made, but the couch cushions still sagged, and you could tell it was cheap stuff. She didn’t own a television and the only thing she had to play music on was an old portable radio with a busted antenna. No wonder she thought his place was nice. It was the Ritz compared to hers.

  Babsie poured his coffee, strong and black just the way he liked it, and sat down beside him. He was toying with the notion of kissing her from across the breakfast table when she jumped up again.

  “God, Lenny, I’m such a dummy! I went out to get you a paper while you were sleeping, and I almost forgot it.”

  “Hey, thanks.” Lenny grinned even wider as she came back with the morning paper, “you didn’t have to go to all that trouble, babe. I could’ve lived without it until we got to the store.”

  “A man should have his coffee and his news first thing in the morning. That’s what my daddy used to say. And he should have it before either one gets a chance to get cold. Don’t you think that’s cute, Lenny?”

  “Huh?” Lenny looked up from the first page. Eddie’s hit man had struck again. This time it was Professor James Zimmer at Gateway University. Babsie looked concerned. “What’s the matter, Lenny? Your face is all white.”

  “Somebody I knew just died, that’s all.”

  “I’m sorry, Lenny. Was it a close friend?”

  “Not really, babe.” Lenny sighed. “Just somebody I sort of met once, that’s all.” Babsie got up from her chair and moved over to stand behind him. As she reached around to hug him, Lenny grabbed her hands. What a nice lady Babsie was. She wasn’t the least bit bitchy like Margo, and she had a real good heart. But now Lenny knew, for sure, that he wasn’t in any position to make a move. He could be nailed for five counts of murder any day now and it wasn’t over yet. If it wasn’t for the really bad mess that Eddie had gotten him into, he’d be seriously considering getting something permanent going with her.

  It was almost noon and Mike was still sleeping. Toni tiptoed past the bed to get her shoes. She’d never slept this late before either. Perhaps it had something to do with how nice it had been to cuddle up next to Mike under the blankets. She’d opened her eyes at seven-thirty just as she’d always done, but once she’d made sure that Mike was still in bed with her, she’d gone right back to sleep.

  She looked over at Mike and smiled. He was sleeping on his side with his knees bent up, and his hair was tousled like an innocent little boy’s. He certainly hadn’t acted like an innocent little boy last night! Toni felt her face growing warm, remembering. It was nice having a sleeping lover in her bed, one that had stayed with her the entire night. Toni noticed his sweatshirt on the floor and picked it up to hang it over the back of the chair before it could get impossibly wrinkled. Then she realized that it wasn’t the same color as the one he’d been wearing last night. He’d been sleepwalking again, and he must have gone home to change clothes.

  Toni glanced around the bedroom, but nothing seemed to be out of place. Then she checked the office, but she didn’t think he’d been wandering around in there. The living room was fine, and so was the kitchen. No, Mike hadn’t defrosted the freezer in his sleep. But he must have done something in the middle of the night. He’d been wearing a black sweatshirt. They’d joked about the fact that it was from the University of Tasmania, and she’d called him her little devil all night. The one she’d picked up this morning was light blue.

  She didn’t start to panic until she saw the car keys on the table. She was sure they’d been hanging on the hook by the door last night. Mike must have driven her car in his sleep again. Thank God he was all right!

  Toni put on her shoes and ran down the stairs to the garage. Her car was there, in its proper space, but it was much closer to the pole than she would have parked it. She inspected it carefully, but it appeared to be fine. No dents anywhere. Nothing broken that she could see. At least he hadn’t been in an accident. But where had he driven? What had he done? Toni felt her head spinning. He’d come back to her, not to his own bed. Did that mean he was getting better?

  “Hi Toni.”

  Toni whirled around to see Harry getting out of his car. “Hi, Harry. What are you doing home so early?”

  “It’s not early to me, kid, it’s late. I’ve been down at the precinct for the past ten hours.”

  “What happened, Harry?” Toni did her best to put on a friendly smile. She was so worried about Mike’s sleepwalking that it was difficult.

  “Murder. They called me in at one in the morning.” Harry sighed. “I’m getting to the point where I hate to hear the phone ring. We figured it started out as a mugging, but the victim must have fought back. If you ever get mugged, Toni, just hand over your wallet or anything else the perp wants.”

  “Anything, Harry?”

  “Anything you figure isn’t worth losing your life over. And there’s not much that fits into that category.”

  “Okay, Harry. I’ll keep that in mind. But we don’t have many muggings around here. This is a low crime neighborhood, isn’t it?”

  “So far it is.” Harry shrugged. “That doesn’t mean much, Toni. Look at what happened in Westwood last year. Gang warfare right on the streets. And the little bastards are committed to do it. As long as they’ve got wheels, they can get out of the slums and go to a nice neighborhood to commit their crimes.”

  “Where was the murder, Harry? In Westwood?”

  “Not this time. It happened out at Gateway University, right in the middle of the campus. That used to be a low-crime area, too, until this morning.”

  “Gateway? Isn’t that the religious college out on the 118 Freeway?”

  Harry nodded. “Say, Toni, maybe you can help me out on something. I need a woman’s point of view. Why would a perfectly ordinary college professor carry around a bag full of women’s lingerie?”

  Toni thought fast. Why would a college professor carry lingerie on the campus? “I’m not sure, Harry. Maybe he had a fancy girlfriend. Or maybe he wanted to be somebody’s fancy girlfriend.”

  “Toni!”

  Harry looked shocked, and Toni laughed. “Okay, I’m just being realistic. He could have been a closet cross-dresser. Are you sure it belonged to the professor?”

  “No.” Harry frowned. “It was brand new, Toni.”

  “Well? Was it his size?”

  Harry’s face turned red. “I should have called you when it happened, Toni. You’re better at this kind of thing. I’ll call and have them check it out right away. An
ything else?”

  Toni noticed that Harry pulled out his notebook, and that made her feel good. She had to concentrate on the problem at hand even though she was still worried about Mike.

  “Okay. Let’s assume that it didn’t belong to the Professor. The killer could have planted it on him to start a scandal. After all, Gateway’s a religious college.”

  “Yeah. That’s a good one.” Harry wrote it down and looked at her for more.

  “Maybe it wasn’t a mugging at all, Harry. The killer might have made it look that way to throw you off the track.”

  We thought of that, Toni. We’re not locked into the mugging concept, but everything fits into the pattern except for those pink satin panties with the little . . .” Harry stopped and cleared his throat. “Never mind Toni, It’s not important.”

  “If you say so, Harry. Tell me what you’ve got so far.”

  “Okay. The professor was murdered between midnight and twelve-thirty this morning. A blow to the head with a blunt instrument.” Harry cleared his throat again. “I don’t need to go into all the gory details. He was walking across campus to his car, and someone hit him and cleaned him out. Wallet, credit cards, everything was missing. And they got into his office on campus and messed that up too.”

  “What did the Professor teach?”

  “Three classes in something called media, one each on radio, television, and newspapers, and its effect on society. The secretary went through his office and said there was nothing missing in there.”

  “Your killer must have been looking for something. What kind of man was the professor? Did the students like him?”

  Harry nodded. “He was a real prince of a guy, according to everyone we talked to. The students liked him a lot, but they said he was a tough grader. And all the staff liked him, too. Nobody we talked to could think of a reason why anyone would want to kill him. Oh yeah, one other thing. He’d just come back from a convention in Washington D.C., and the security guard said no one expected him back until Monday. That cuts down on the probability that he was a specific target.”

  Toni frowned. “Three questions, Harry. Does Gateway have any night classes? Were there any special functions going on last night? And do you know which buildings are open at night?”

  Harry patted his notebook. “We thought of that, Toni. There were no night classes, so the campus was practically deserted by the time the professor got there around ten. And there were no special functions last night. The only building open was the library, and it closed at eleven.”

  “How far is the library from the professor’s office? Could someone have seen the light in his window?”

  “That’s possible.”

  “All right, then. A student at the library sees the Professor’s light and hangs around after the library closes. You said the professor was a tough grader, so maybe the student was trying to steal one of his tests. Or change a grade. He might not have wanted to hurt the Professor, just knock him out so he could steal the keys to his office.”

  “Yep.” Harry made another note. “That’s good, Toni. We’ll interview every student enrolled in his classes. And I guess we’d better check around for the kids that flunked out, too. That lingerie could’ve been a way to get even. And the kid could have messed up the office for spite.”

  “That sounds good, Harry. Could a former student have driven on campus without a pass? Or a gate card? Or whatever they use to get in?”

  Harry laughed. “You could drive a tank right onto that campus and no one would notice. There’s no security system at the gate, and it’s a big place. There are a lot of back ways to come in.”

  “How about security guards?”

  “There’s only one guy on at night. And he spends most of his time chasing off the high school kids who come out there to drink and mess around.”

  “That doesn’t help much, does it, Harry?”

  “Not at all.” Harry sighed. “We’re going to concentrate on the students and the staff, but that’s really just a fielder’s choice. Our guy could be someone from outside with no connection to the college at all. Anybody who was out for a midnight drive last night could have zipped onto that campus and killed the professor.”

  CHAPTER 25

  Ebony Rose woke up to the musical peal of her alarm clock at one in the afternoon. It played her theme song, “Second Hand Rose.” Her boyfriend had given it to her for Christmas. She’d slept for seven hours. That was enough. She had to get up. It had been daybreak before she’d come home to her penthouse apartment. She’d thrown a prenuptial party for one of the girls.

  There was a smile on Ebony Rose’s face as she pushed back the pink satin sheets and got out of her canopied bed. She slept in the nude because she loved feeling of satin against her skin. It was her favorite material, and she’d never been able to afford it when she was young. Now she surrounded herself with it. Her cocoa-brown skin glistened in the sun as she slipped into a rose-colored satin kimono and walked down the hallway to the kitchen. The party had been sensational. They’d locked the doors of the club at 2 a.m. on the dot, and then they’d given Rennetta a real send-off. Ebony Rose always threw a lavish party when one of her girls got married. The stripper she’d hired had been the best, handsome and rugged enough to have been a movie star. He’d performed his regular act, and the girls had all shrieked and applauded. It was a reversal of roles, and they had loved it. Then, for his finale, he’d lifted Rennetta right out of her chair and carried her off to the waterbed they’d set up in the back room.

  Ebony Rose figured that Rennetta wouldn’t forget her party in a hurry. It would be a long time before she was treated like that again. The man she was marring today was sixty-five years old, filthy rich, and completely impotent. He wanted Rennetta around for window dressing. It was a status symbol for him to have a beautiful young wife. Unfortunately, he was also the jealous type and he’d threatened to divorce her at the drop of a hat if she ever played around. Since he was as healthy as a horse in every other way, Rennetta could look forward to a celibate life for the next twenty years or so. Ebony Rose figured that Rennetta would earn every penny of the inheritance she’d eventually get.

  There was a time when Ebony Rose had harbored a similar ambition for herself. A rich older man and an easy life of luxury. But now she was very grateful that things had turned out the way they had. She liked being her own boss, and she was sure she wasn’t good wife material. She was now thirty-two years old, and she’d never met a man she’d wanted to marry. Except one, of course. And that was completely impossible.

  Bridget, her housekeeper, had prepared a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice, and Ebony Rose poured herself a Waterford tumbler full of the delicious liquid. That, with one piece of whole-grain toast, would be here only meal until the light dinner that Bridget would fix tonight. Ebony Rose ate her toast and sipped her juice. Even though she was way behind schedule today, she had to spend at least an hour working out in her dance and exercise studio. She didn’t perform at the club except on very special occasions, but she still kept herself in prime condition. After all, her nude dancing had earned her the down payment on the club she now owned free and clear. And it had paid for this luxury penthouse and the custom rose-colored Jaguar she drove. At one time her body had been her most valuable asset, and it was only right to treat it well.

  Her breakfast finished, Ebony Rose set the crystal tumbler on the pink-veined marble counter, where Bridget would find it and wash it. Then she picked it up again and rinsed it out. Even though Ebony Rose, the daughter of a black domestic, had an Irish maid of her own, she still rinsed out her glasses.

  It was time to get to work. She walked back to her bedroom and chose a leotard from the long rack of clothes in her walk-in closet. She had at least thirty exercise outfits, ranging in color from the palest cotton-candy pink to vivid fuchsia. Today she chose one that was the color of the pink geraniums her mother had grown in a cracked ceramic pot on their kitchen windowsill. Then she put on matchi
ng satin dance slippers and hurried down the hall to her dance studio.

  For her first set of exercises she used the ballet barre that ran the length of the room. The muscles in her left leg were painfully tight, and no amount of stretching seemed able to loosen them. Her old injury had come back to haunt her. She’d have to start doing the therapy exercises she’d learned from the doctor, and avoid wearing her favorite high-heeled shoes for a month or so.

  Ebony Rose had been only ten when her mother’s friend had pushed her down a flight of stairs, and she’d torn some ligaments in her ankle. The doctor at the emergency room had taped it, and she’d had to wear a brace for six months. She’d never told her mother exactly why the boyfriend had pushed her, but her mother must have suspected because the boyfriend had disappeared that night, and he had never come back.

  Ebony Rose remembered crying because she couldn’t roller-skate any longer. Her mother had dried her tears and told her that her injury could be a blessing in disguise, if she got in the right frame of mind. She could have been killed on those steep steps, and she should think of that. And now, because she couldn’t run around with the neighborhood kids for a while, she should concentrate on getting the best marks in the class, and maybe she could win a scholarship to college. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?

  So Ebony Rose had studied instead of doing everything else she’d wanted to do. And she’d discovered that she liked being the smartest kid in class. She won a scholarship, just as her mother had wanted. And she’d finished two years of college before she’d been forced to drop out to take care of her mother.

  Now she’d strained her ankle again, and it was her fault for not being careful. Why had she worn those ridiculously high-heeled satin shoes? And she’d let the girls talk her into drinking a whole bottle of champagne. And after that, she’d attempted to do an acrobatic disco dance with the male stripper.