Catch a Falling Knife

by Alan Cook

  She went up to the door, but instead of knocking or ringing the doorbell it looked as if she was using a key. The door opened and she went inside and shut it after her. She must be Elise’s roommate. Donna. I remembered her name. I pulled out my spiral notebook and checked my notes. Donna Somerset. I had learned not to rely on my memory.

  I had to see her face again to make sure. I could knock on the door, but she would recognize me. If I waited, maybe she would come out. But I couldn’t wait here, because she had undoubtedly noticed the two of us sitting in my car, even though only the backs of our heads had been visible to her. If we stayed here she might get suspicious and take a closer look. And she could see the car from her front window.

  I started the car and pulled ahead, intending to park a short distance up the street.

  “What’s going on?” Tess asked, sleepily.

  “I’ll tell you in a minute,” I said. I had a thought. “I need to get the license plate number of the car behind where we were just parked. I’m going to turn around and drive by it. You can help me read the license.”

  I pulled into a driveway on the other side of the street and backed out, reversing our direction. Then I cruised slowly past the other car. It was some sort of Chevrolet model, not new, not old. Between us, Tess and I read the license plate and she wrote it down.

  “There’s a girl coming out of that apartment,” Tess said. She was looking back over her shoulder.

  “Damn,” I said. “I need to get a good look at her.” I pulled into a second driveway and turned the car around again, as quickly as I could, with Tess helping by warning me not to back into a parked car I wasn’t going to hit, anyway. As I drove past the girl’s car she was just opening the driver’s side door and I had to steer wide to miss her. She looked up and we stared at each other for a split second. I had no doubt that she was Donna Somerset.

  I turned right at the next corner.

  “She didn’t look like Mr. Hoffman’s daughter,” Tess said.

  “She’s not. But I know who she is. I’ll explain later. Right now, we have to get back to that street.”

  Easier said than done. The streets didn’t necessarily run in straight lines, I found out, and it took me about ten minutes to return to the vicinity of the apartment. When I did I parked about 50 feet from it instead of directly in front. Donna’s car was gone.

  “This would be a lot more fun if I knew what was going on,” Tess complained.

  “All will be revealed in good time,” I said. “Right now, we have to watch for Elise. We’ll give her ten minutes and if she doesn’t show up we’ll get out of here.”

  To keep Tess interested I decided to tell her about Donna, and we were pondering the relevance of the fact that Donna and Elise were apparently roommates when I noticed that something looked different about the apartment window.

  “It looks as if the drapes behind the white curtains have been opened,” I said. “They were closed before.”

  “Donna might have opened them,” Tess said.

  “I don’t think so. I’m going to the door again.”

  “Be careful.”

  As I walked up the sidewalk to the front door I confirmed my observation about the drapes. Somebody was inside and it wasn’t Donna. As I rang the doorbell I felt a lot tenser than when I had tried it the first time.

  I heard a noise from within and the door opened. I looked into the stunning eyes of Elise Hoffman.

  For a few interminable seconds I lost the power of speech. Then I said, “Hello, are you Miss Hoffman?”

  She nodded and gave me a look that said, “And what are you trying to sell?”

  “I’m Lillian Morgan—Professor Morgan. May I come in a minute?”

  Whether it was the “professor” or the fact that I looked harmless, she reluctantly stepped aside and let me in, closing the door behind me. She remained where she was, with one hand on the doorknob, and didn’t offer me a seat. Unless I could thaw her quickly this would be a short interview. I knew I couldn’t mention her father so I had to find another way to break through her reserve.

  I took a look around at the sparsely furnished front room, complete with posters on the wall. And pictures. Several of the pictures were of Elise in a leotard, doing gymnastic routines. I said, “You’re a gymnast, aren’t you?”

  Elise nodded again.

  “Were you on a team in high school?” I didn’t know whether Crescent Heights College had a gymnastics team.

  “Yes. We went to the state championships two years in a row.”

  She stated it as a fact, without bragging. She had warmed up a few degrees. “It’s wonderful to be so athletic. I was always too tall for gymnastics, but I played tennis.”

  “I play some tennis too. But I wasn’t good enough to make the team in high school. And I don’t have time for any sports here.”

  I had been prepared for Elise to be a conniving bitch, but she didn’t appear to be malicious or scheming. She didn’t seem hard or emotionally distant. I was sure her reticence now was normal when talking to a stranger. I decided to be frank with her.

  “Elise,” I said, “I need to say some things to you. Listen to me for two minutes and then you can ask me to leave if you want to. I am a friend of Dr. Pappas, but he didn’t give me your name or ask me to come here. I discovered your name by luck. He hasn’t violated any part of the sexual harassment rules.”

  Mark’s name had registered in her expressive eyes. If I had had any doubts about whether she was his accuser before, they were gone. As I paused to collect my thoughts, I waited for her to kick me out, but she didn’t say anything.

  “Dr. Pappas—Mark—is a good person,” I continued. “He would not intentionally hurt anybody. I have heard his version of what happened between you two. I haven’t heard your version and I won’t make a judgment about who’s right and who’s wrong, but let me say this. If Mark is found guilty by this panel, this committee, or whatever it’s called, it will destroy his career. He will never work as a college professor again.”

  I paused for breath. “You’ve seen how the procedure works and you know by now that it is completely unfair to him. He can’t face you or question you, he can’t call witnesses; he can’t even hear the complete testimony against him. This is not how a free country is supposed to work. I know you didn’t write the rules, but ask yourself whether or not you want to be a party to his ruin.”

  I stopped, trying to think what else I should say. The eyes of Elise were locked on mine; they disconcerted me. If they bothered me, what must they do to men? I didn’t want to cheapen what I had already said by repetition, so I finished, “That’s all I have to tell you. I’ll leave now.” I took a step toward the door.

  “Wait,” Elise said. “I want to talk to you. Please sit down.”

  I picked a beanbag chair to sit in and immediately wished I hadn’t. It was too low and too squishy and I would have a hard time getting up from it. Elise didn’t sit, but paced nervously back and forth in the small room. She had the graceful movements of an athlete, even though she appeared to be going through some sort of internal battle.

  She stopped in front of me and said, “I knew I’d seen you before. You came out of Priscilla’s office just before I went in. And I believe you were sitting in on Dr. Pappas’ class that morning.”

  I didn’t try to deny her statements.

  “You probably saw the demonstration that was going on that day. I didn’t have anything to do with it. I was told the complaint procedure was confidential. I assumed that meant that both of our names would be protected. I don’t have any association with those…those people. Please tell Dr. Pappas that.”

  “I’ll tell him”

  “This hasn’t gone the way I thought it would. I thought he would get off with a reprimand, but that doesn’t appear likely.”

  “Even if he does, the whole world will know about it.”

  “Yes.”

  Elise paced some more. Jeans weren’t becoming to many girls, b
ut she looked good in them. Still, whatever happened to dresses? When she stopped in front of me again, I saw a tear on her eyelid.

  “Tell Dr. Pappas…”

  She paused for so long I thought she wasn’t going to say any more.

  “Tell Dr. Pappas…I’m sorry.”

  Chapter 10

  I was eating breakfast and casually glancing at the Raleigh News and Observer when I saw the story. King was tied up outside, resting after our morning walk. Mark wasn’t there; he hadn’t returned last night, but I wasn’t worried about him. He had said he might be late. I assumed that he was either with Sandra or a friend of his. I hoped he was with Sandra.

  The headline at the bottom of the first page of the newspaper caught my eye: “Coed Slain at Crescent Heights College.” The name of the school jolted me into full alertness. I shifted my focus to the first line of the story.

  “A student at Crescent Heights College in Bethany was found dead in her off-campus apartment last night. Elise Hoffman, a sophomore, had apparently been stabbed repeatedly with a sharp instrument.”

  I read on in increasing horror as the story detailed how her roommate, Donna Somerset, who had returned to the apartment after studying late with a friend, had found the nude body of Elise. It said Elise was an honor student and told about her activities at Crescent Heights, which included singing in school musical productions. It listed her parents as Eric and June Hoffman, of Bethany.

  The initial investigation showed that nothing had been taken from the apartment. However, the front window had been broken and the assailant had apparently gained entrance through the window.

  I read the story several more times, barely comprehending it. I had talked to Elise yesterday afternoon. She had been so young, so beautiful. Who would want to kill her? The telephone rang. I staggered to it in a daze.

  “Have you read this morning’s paper?” Tess asked, and without waiting for a reply, “Elise Hoffman has been murdered.”

  “I’m just reading it now,” I said. “I can’t believe it.”

  “Me, neither. Although I didn’t see her I was right outside her apartment yesterday afternoon. But you must be devastated. Does Mark know?”

  “I’m not sure where Mark is. He didn’t come home last night.”

  Tess didn’t say anything for what seemed like a long time. Then she said, “You know what that means, don’t you?”

  “What?”

  “He’s a suspect.”

  “Mark? It can’t be Mark. Mark wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  “You know that and I know that, but the police don’t know that. You’re going to need some support. I’ll be right over.” Tess hung up.

  Still in a daze, I called Sandra’s number. Of course she didn’t answer. She dropped Winston off at a daycare center before she went to the school where she taught so she had to start early. I didn’t leave a message. I couldn’t think of a comprehensible message to leave.

  I called Albert’s home number. After three rings I thought he had also left for work, but then he answered.

  “Hello.”

  “Albert, have you seen Mark?”

  “Good morning, Mother. I’m fine, thank you. No, I haven’t seen Mark. I thought he was staying with you.”

  “He hasn’t been here since yesterday morning. Did you read today’s paper?”

  “I haven’t seen it yet. I’ll pick it up on my way to Duke.”

  The newspapers for the houses on Albert’s road were dumped on the ground beside the mailboxes, which were just off the main road, over a mile from his house.

  “A female student at Crescent Heights College was murdered last night,” I said.

  “That’s terrible!” Albert, who usually took everything in stride except some of my trespasses, sounded shocked.

  “Worse than that. She was the one who accused Mark of harassment.”

  “How do you know that? I thought you didn’t know her name.”

  “I found it out.”

  While I was listening for Albert’s answer, Tess knocked on the door and then came in. I always leave the door unlocked when I’m home during the day.

  Albert said, “Mark couldn’t have done it.”

  “Of course not, but the police are still going to want to talk to him. If you hear from him, would you call me, please? I’m sure I’ll be talking to the police today, also.”

  “Mother, I’ll try to find out where Mark is, but I want you to stay out of this.”

  “I’m already in it. I talked to the victim yesterday afternoon.”

  Albert spewed a string of obscenities, which was unlike him. Then he told me not to do anything rash and hung up.

  Tess had poured herself a cup of coffee in my kitchen and sat down at my small dining table. She said, “I take it that nobody knows where Mark is.”

  I tried to look on the bright side. “Of course he might be at the college. I’m sure he’s teaching at least one class today.”

  “If he is, the police will find him there. Well, I guess we’re back in the detective business, whether we want to be or not. If for no other reason than to help Mark. Anyway, I came prepared.”

  Tess pulled out her yellow legal pad and placed it on the table. “Is there anything you should mention about your meeting with Elise that you didn’t tell me on our way home yesterday? You were in there quite a while. I was about ready to send the dogs in after you.”

  “Nothing of substance. She seemed to be genuinely sorry about the problems she had caused Mark. I don’t think she anticipated them at all. She said several times that she hadn’t had anything to do with the demonstration. I suspect that Priscilla Estavez knows how the information leaked out about Mark, but of course I can’t prove it. However, I’d like to wring her neck, just on general principles.”

  “Did Elise tell you her side of the harassment story?”

  “No. But just as I was leaving she did say one thing that puzzled me. She said, ‘I should have figured out a better way to do it.’”

  “Do what?”

  “Deal with the harassment, I suppose. Or what she imagined to be harassment.”

  We chatted for a few minutes while I tried to remember anything of relevance that Elise had said. Then I thought of something else. “I should check my messages. I don’t think I checked them after I returned from dinner last night.”

  “In spite of the fact that you might have a message from Mark?”

  “I meant to check them. But you know how absent-minded us old folks are.”

  “Speak for yourself, Lil.”

  I went to the telephone and punched in the code for my messages. A female voice told me I had one message, which had been received last night at 6:17 p.m. I had been eating dinner in the dining room at that time. The voice said that the message was from an unknown number, which meant that it was from outside Silver Acres. It must be from Mark. I felt relieved and played the message.

  “Mrs. Morgan, this is Elise Hoffman. I want you to know that I am dropping the charges I made against Dr. Pappas. Please tell him that. When I see him I’ll tell him myself. I hope that I can undo the damage I’ve done to him. I wanted you to know about my decision right away because you helped me make up my mind.”

  The message ended. I played it again to make sure I had heard it correctly. Then I hung up the phone.

  “Lil, you look as if you’d seen a ghost.”

  “I just heard a ghost.” My hands were shaking. I told Tess about the message.

  “How did she get your telephone number?”

  “I gave it to her…that is she asked for it. I wasn’t sure why. She said she wanted it in case she needed to get in touch with me.”

  “She must have been thinking about dropping the charges even while you were still there. We have to save that for the police.”

  “The police, right. And I want Ms. Priscilla Estavez to hear it.”

  ***

  The police arrived sometime after lunch, or I should say one policeman in the person of De
tective Julius Johnson. Detective Johnson wore civilian clothes—a suit and tie—but he did have an authentic-looking badge so I let him in. He was fairly small in stature and his dark skin probably helped to make him look more authoritative than if he had been white. He was young, without any hair to speak of. They used to call that a buzz-cut.

  I escorted him inside and introduced him to Tess, who had kept me company through the morning and through lunch while we waited in vain for word from Mark. I offered him a seat on the roomy sofa, beside Tess, but he remained standing so I did, too.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” he said to me.

  Instead of a southern accent, he had what I would call a universal accent, as exemplified by many of the residents of California.

  “Lillian Morgan.”

  “Good. You’re the owner of this apartment, right?”

  I acknowledged that fact.

  “And Mark Pappas has been staying with you?”

  “For the last few days, yes.”

  “Where is he now?”

  I had to admit that I didn’t know. He asked me when I had seen him last and the other usual questions. After he had determined beyond the shadow of a doubt that I didn’t know where Mark was, he said, “Do you know what this is in regard to?”

  “The murder of Elise Hoffman.”

  “What do you know about Elise Hoffman’s murder?”

  “What I read in the paper. But I may have some additional information for you because I talked to Elise yesterday afternoon.”

  “You did?” Detective Johnson’s eye twitched. “I certainly do want to talk to you.”

  “And Tess can verify what time that was because she was in the car with me. But she didn’t actually see Elise.”