“Kirsten Frawling.”
“That young lady has no idea how to run a tearoom. The place is a jumble of Eastern influences, or rather Western misunderstanding of Eastern influences. I wanted to correct her on several things. Though SereniTea’s use of fusuma—that is sliding panels—tatami mats and shoji screens to create washitsu—that is a Japanese-style room—suggests a traditional tearoom, everything else is a mess.”
Sophie stayed quiet.
Vince Nomuro retreated into himself for a moment, looking down at his navy slacks, pleating the crease by pinching it between his fingers, then said, “When I emerged from speaking with the young lady, who seems a scattered kind of person, not a good manager, I saw Dale speaking to, or rather arguing with, a young man, someone I recognized.”
Sophie drew her breath in to speak, but then made herself stay quiet. Vince Nomuro was the kind of person who was organized and methodical in his speech, and an interjection would throw him off.
“The dispute appeared heated, and even physical. He was arguing with Paul Wechsler, our systems engineer. He looks after all of our computer needs, designs programs and maintains our intranet. It’s a very important job. He should have more help, but so far we haven’t been able to attract anybody to the other positions, so he fills in. He’s not paid half what he’s worth.”
This was getting interesting. Julia had said she saw Paul and the dean speaking outside of SereniTea and this was the confirmation! Sophie had seen Paul draw the dean aside later, near Auntie Rose’s, and understood the conversation to be about the grading, but the heated disagreement earlier? The registrar had stopped, and Sophie felt it was safe to ask, “What were they arguing about?”
“I only heard a few words. When Dale saw me he drew Paul away into the shadows and I was accosted by my assistant about something.” He glanced up at Sophie. “I know all the gossip, Miss Taylor. Sophie. I know that people say Paul is involved with Mrs. Asquith.”
“I’ve heard that from a number of reliable people,” Sophie asserted.
“What he and Dale argued about had nothing to do with Mrs. Asquith, I would attest to that. Paul said to him something like, ‘if you tell people that tomorrow, you’re going to look like an idiot’. Dale said, ‘you’re the one who told me’ . . . but that was when Dale moved Paul away and I couldn’t hear any more. I’m planning to ask Paul about that today.”
The reference to the dean’s Monday announcement must have been about the grading scandal, but did it mean that Paul had told the dean that Jason was the one responsible, or someone else? And did it come from Paul in his position as systems engineer? She had no doubt the college had been delving into the problem from a technical aspect since all grades were entered on a computer.
Though she wasn’t quite sure how. “Mr. Nomuro, how are grades entered by instructors and professors?”
“We have a content management system, of course. Our staff log on, give unique identification and hopefully log off when they are done.”
Sophie could see many problems with that, including what he implied himself, that if a staff member failed to log off, anyone using his or her computer might be able to change things without anyone being the wiser. “But the grade alteration would have a timestamp, or electronic fingerprint, right?”
“Sure. But any system is only as good as the humans utilizing it.”
Lots of cracks and possible problems, then. And no one would know that better than those in charge of using it constantly, like Vince and Brenda, and the one charged with maintaining it, Paul Wechsler. If she eliminated Jason and Julia from contention, then the most likely grade alterer was among those three.
But she couldn’t forget that this information was coming from Vince. She had Julia’s account that the dean had questioned Vince himself about his spending habits. Sophie inferred from that, that the dean still hadn’t fully made up his mind yet on the guilty party, even just hours before he was to make the announcement. He clearly still felt it was possible that Vince had taken bribes to change Mac’s grade.
Maybe when Paul pulled the dean aside near Auntie Rose’s, he was telling him that if he named Jason he’d look like a fool, because Vince was really the guilty party. Or . . . maybe he pulled the dean aside to tell him that he would look like a fool if he named the registrar, because it was someone else who was the guilty party. She sighed, feeling no closer to the truth. “So you haven’t tried to speak with Paul yet?”
“He hasn’t come into work today,” Nomuro said. “And he didn’t call, either, the office told me.”
* * *
Rose and Laverne exited the police headquarters into the brilliant, hard October sunshine. It was a crisp day, one meant for hot tea and scones, and for hosting groups at Auntie Rose’s. Without the daily rhythm of the tearoom, Rose felt bereft. “I’m worried, Laverne. Why do you think Sophie hasn’t been in to see the police yet?”
“That girl is off chasing a murderer, if I know her.”
“Detective Morris warned me to make sure she stays out of trouble.”
Laverne snorted as she unlocked the car and held the door open for Rose, who climbed into the low old vehicle with some difficulty. She circled and climbed in behind the wheel, started the engine and cranked up the heat. “As if either of us could make Sophie do or not do something she had on her mind. That girl is as obstinate as her grandmother.”
Rose smiled wearily and put her head back. “Laverne, who did this awful thing? And why outside our tearoom?”
“I know Sophie is doing her best to figure it out, but I think it’s time the Silver Spouts leaped into action.”
“What do you mean?”
“There is nothing a group of snoopy older folk can’t ask,” Laverne said with a chuckle.
“You’re right,” Rose said, sitting up straighter. “And I think we ought to start with our old frenemy, as Sophie calls her, Thelma Mae Earnshaw. She’s the one who claims to have seen the college registrar, but what did she really see?”
They headed home, and as they pulled in noticed Gilda outside with a bucket cleaning the siding by the front step of Belle Époque. It was such a surprising sight they stopped and Rose rolled down her window. “Gilda, what are you up to?”
She looked around stealthily, then scooted over to the car window, leaning over and poking her frizzy head in. “I’m staying out of the way. Madame has her knickers in a twist,” she said sourly.
“Why this time?” Rose asked.
Gilda looked furtive. “It was a phone call this morning that set her off.”
“Just tell us,” Laverne said, leaning across Rose. “What phone call? Who was on the line?”
“It was from the college. The dean of students wanted to chew her out for going to the dorm last night and upsetting Mac MacAlister.”
Rose and Laverne exchanged looks. “We have to hear about this,” Rose said.
Ten minutes later they had coaxed Thelma and Gilda over to Auntie Rose’s and had them ensconced in the tearoom at one of the smaller round tables with a cup of Auntie Rose’s Tea-riffic Tea Blend and a lemon scone with Devon cream and fresh berry coulis, something Sophie had made the day before.
“So, what happened, Thelma, and why was the college upset?”
In a halting and sniffly manner, Thelma related what had happened, finally, after many interjections and exclamations, arriving at the part where she had labored up the stairs and found the room in which Mac MacAlister held court. “You’d think he was Rudolph Valentino as the Sheik, with all those giggly girls lying around, cooing over him. One was even combing his bushy hair, for cripes’ sake!” Thelma said, her pudgy face red with indignation. “It would be a cold day in the blistering underworld before I’d do that. Girls are so stupid. Cissy’s over the worst of that, but she’s waiting around for a proposal from that wet noodle, Wally, when she should be proposing to him herself, if tha
t’s what she wants.”
Rose and Laverne exchanged a look. Once Thelma got up on one of her high horses, it was hard to make her dismount. The only way was to force the issue.
“So Mac MacAlister was in his room with a bunch of college girls giggling over him,” Laverne said.
“What did you say when you barged in there?” Rose added.
Thelma clattered the teacup against its saucer and moved the teapot, a figural representing a graduation cap resting on a stack of books, around. “I said, ‘Who do you have to bribe around here to change your grade?’ and he kinda looked offended. That’s when he called dorm security.”
“That was it?” Rose sighed. She’d thought the woman actually found something out.
Thelma gave her a cagey look. “Who said that was it? I skedaddled out of his room and down the hall, and this blond girl took me aside, pulled me into a room. I recognized her; she’s a reporter for the college paper, the one who’s been hanging around so much, and was at your tearoom talking to Sophie yesterday.”
“Tara Mitchells,” Laverne said.
Thelma nodded. “Anyways, she asked me a bunch of questions. I didn’t know the answer to any of ’em. Then she said something strange. She said that she had seen two people together who didn’t fit, and it made her wonder if they were all barking up the wrong tree.”
“Did she name names?” Rose asked.
Thelma grimaced. “Can’t remember. One was something that made me think about appliances.”
“What could make you think about appliances?” Laverne asked.
Thelma shook her head.
“Blender?” Rose mused. “Oven? Mixer? Vacuum? Beater? Are there any names in the case that sound like any of those?”
Laverne was biting her lip to keep from laughing, but she got control of herself and asked Thelma, “So you can’t remember the name, but what else did she say?”
“She said this fella, the appliance one, was in a car with someone she never thought she’d see him with.”
And that was it, that was all Thelma could tell them. Tara had shut up after that and snuck Thelma out of the dorm as Mac complained loudly to security.
“Now, what about this other thing, you saying you saw the registrar skulking late that night,” Rose said. “When you sent Gilda to take out the garbage?”
Gilda sniffed and crossed her arms over her chest. Pearl ambled into the kitchen just then, though, and with a glad cry Gilda sank to the floor and enticed the cat into her lap. The delicate Birman hesitated, glanced up at Rose, then climbed into the generous velour-clad lap. From then on Gilda’s mood was significantly better, as she fed the cat scones with dabs of cream.
“I did see him,” Thelma said. “Or at least . . . I saw his hat.
“You already told us that, the duffer cap,” Rose said. “So what was it made from?”
Thelma shrugged, her floral printed caftan rippling with the action. “It was a funny kind of tweed material, you know?”
“That’s not enough to accuse the man,” Rose said.
With that, Thelma got huffy again. “Well, he was the only one wearing one of those that night,” she said, and dragged Gilda back to Belle Époque.
“We need to tell Sophie to get a hold of Tara Mitchells and ask her what she told Thelma,” Rose said. “I hope that girl doesn’t do anything rash.”
“Tara?”
“No, Sophie!”
Chapter 19
Vince Nomuro retreated to his office and Sophie sat for a moment, gathering her thoughts. When Julia came back with a hopeful look on her face, Sophie said, “Can you sit for a moment? We need to talk. What does this mean?” She pulled free the note in the pile of papers, read it over more completely, then handed it to Julia. In full, it read,
Mac’s grade is just the tip of the iceburg. JM didn’t do anything, but I know who did. Ms. Dandridge, you should be very very carefull of all the cheets at this skool.
The professor read it, and pink flooded her cheeks. She settled herself for a moment, then looked up at Sophie. “I don’t know what this means. You’re not going to believe me, but I don’t.”
Sophie regarded her for a moment. All this time, despite doubts pinging at the back of her mind and knowing that the professor could use some extra money, she had chosen to believe Julia when she said she had nothing to do with the grade changing. Mostly, she acknowledged, because Jason trusted her. “The JM mentioned is Jason, don’t you think?”
Julia nodded, carefully avoiding Sophie’s eyes.
“Why was this note written to you? And why does it tell you to be careful?”
“It was stuck into my departmental mail slot this morning, and I piled it in with this stack of papers. I hadn’t even read it until this moment.” She frowned and shook her head. “I don’t know what it means, why it tells me to be careful. Is it . . . do you think it’s a threat?” She put her hand over her stomach.
“It doesn’t sound like it,” Sophie said. An anonymous note. Another anonymous note, like the one that had tipped Tara off to the grade alteration in the first place. Who was the whistleblower? And why was Mac the one pinpointed?
“Julia, you never did answer my text. I sent you a note; I was told that you were crying the night of the tea stroll, that the dean said something to you, and you were upset.”
“Oh, Sophie, it wasn’t important. He told me our food was awful.” She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I burst into tears. I do that about three times a day right now. It wasn’t important; that’s why I didn’t mention it.”
Sophie watched the professor, and decided to try out one of her theories. If she was right about any of this, there was little chance that Julia was guilty of the grade change, and certainly not the murder. “I do wonder about what it means, that Mac’s grade is the tip of the iceberg. It could mean other of Mac’s grades were altered, or—more likely—that there are other departments involved, more students’ grades changed. Vince Nomuro explained how the content management system here works. When you use your work computer, do you ever leave the office with the computer on? Have you ever come back to find someone else in your office, or just leaving it?” She should be asking Jason the same question, and she would.
“I don’t remember a specific instance, but . . .” Julia shook her head. “I’m horribly confused,” she confessed. “I feel like my brain is going into hibernation, asleep a great deal of the time.”
Sophie regarded her. “I had a waitress who said that the only real problem she had while she was pregnant was that she was thinking of a thousand things at once and worrying, so she didn’t get enough sleep and was forgetful.”
Julia nodded. “That sounds like me. I never should have gotten into the tearoom business. What was I thinking? Now, with the baby coming, I can’t afford to keep going with it if it’s ultimately going to fail.”
“Do you want my true opinion? The ruthlessly honest truth from someone who has failed in a restaurant?”
Julia nodded.
“I think you need to decide what you want from the business. If you’ve discovered that it’s not your thing, there’s no shame in that. Sell the business and the building. You’ll lose a little money, but you’ll be out of it. However, if you can be happy with it breaking even for a couple of years, you can use that time to find your niche. It’s not necessarily a bad idea, but either you find someone else to manage your place, or Kirsten needs to take a management course. And you definitely have to hire a better cook. She can’t do everything, and right now she’s not doing anything well.”
“But she’s a friend, and a great yoga instructor! I can’t fire her, and I don’t know how I’d tell her to shape up.” She shrugged helplessly, tears in her eyes. “Maybe I should sell SereniTea.”
“Maybe,” Sophie said. “Or maybe not.” She felt for her. “After this is over, let’s talk.”
; “Okay.”
Sophie pondered the note and what it could mean; the spelling was comically atrocious, but was that purposeful? Why warn Julia? Had anyone else received notes, or just her? Sophie decided she needed to put it on the back burner for now. Maybe her subconscious would have a better idea than she did. “Julia, I appreciate the idea you had, of sticking me here and bringing people to me to figure this out, but I don’t think that’s the best plan. I’d prefer to see people in their natural habitat, if you know what I mean.”
Julia nodded. “I guess I was overzealous. I want this to be over for all of our sakes. Is there anything I can do, though?”
“Sure. I know we said you or Jason should handle Coach Donovan, but we both know it’s best if you guys stay out of it. I’d like to talk to him. Where would I find him?”
“Heck has an office here in administrative, but he’s not usually in it. If you’ll help me get this stuff to my office,” she said about the stack of paperwork, “I’ll help you track him down.”
Ten minutes later Sophie was standing in the lobby of the gymnasium where she had attended the basketball game. Heck Donovan had his main office in the auditorium complex, but his schedule had indicated he was coaching a basketball practice at that moment. Julia had offered to come along and introduce her, but Sophie wanted to do this on her own. She wasn’t sure how she was going to proceed, but from her hopeful expression it appeared that Julia had a much better opinion of Sophie’s investigative abilities than she had of herself.
Her cell phone chimed and she noticed that she had several text messages and a missed call. She found a secluded alcove and checked out the text from Josh. It was actually a string of texts, as he was in class and couldn’t call. He had done some research and found a few toxins that could have produced the convulsions and drooling that the dean apparently suffered. He mentioned everything from ricin, fairly easily distilled from the castor bean plant, to exotic Amazonian cane toad poisons, like the ones he and Cindy had seen at the exhibit at the college. There was a more likely one, though, he said; monkshood was a locally available plant, and deadly.
The Grim Steeper Page 20
