Catch a Falling Knife

by Alan Cook

  “Dr. Pappas didn’t see you dance, but I did.”

  “How did you like me?”

  She gave no indication that she had seen me, but I couldn’t have expected her to. I had been sitting in the back and the spotlight was in her eyes. “You were…great. You sure held everybody’s attention. I’m told that after each dance you rushed out of the club and disappeared. In order to maintain your anonymity. Did you have your car parked somewhere?”

  “A block away. I couldn’t park in the Club Cavalier lot because Elise’s father keeps a website of license plate numbers of guys who go there.”

  “I know. My son’s license got put on the Internet.”

  “I’m sorry. I hope it didn’t hurt him. Elise and I joked about it—in fact it’s a running joke at the college—but still I figured if I was going to keep my identity secret I’d better not risk it.”

  “You owe Lefty a call,” I said.

  “Lefty? Oh, you mean at the club.”

  “Yes. To tell him you’re not going back.”

  “Right. Because of everything that’s happened I haven’t had a chance.”

  I looked around the bedroom. All of Elise’s possessions appeared to have been removed already. “You found her, didn’t you?”

  Donna shuddered. “It was awful. She was in the bed there, lying on her back, all covered with blood. Blood…blood, all this blood.” She paused. “I had just returned from the club.”

  “And the killer got in through the front window?”

  “Yes, it was broken so he could undo the latch and open it. There was glass on the floor inside and the window was open. I didn’t notice any of that when I came in. It was dark outside and I didn’t turn on any lights in the living room. And the drapes were closed. The police found the mess.”

  Then Mark definitely didn’t do it. He knew how to pick locks.

  I must have said part of that aloud because Donna said, “Mark? You mean Dr. Pappas. I don’t believe he did it.”

  “Let me clear one thing up. When you and I talked outside the Administration Building you said that he couldn’t be guilty of sexual harassment. You were aware at that time that Elise had filed the charge against him, weren’t you?”

  “Of course. Elise and I didn’t keep secrets from each other.”

  “Are you saying that Elise filed a false charge?”

  “What does it matter now?”

  “It may matter a great deal because Dr. Pappas is suspected of her murder. If Elise filed a false charge, Dr. Pappas of course knew it was false and would be less likely to kill her than if the charge were true.”

  “Or maybe he would be more likely to kill her because she was trying to hurt him and he didn’t deserve it.”

  I hadn’t thought of that. Human nature is complicated. “What did you tell the police about the harassment charge?”

  “They didn’t ask me about it.”

  “Look, Donna. We’re on the same side. Neither of us believes that Dr. Pappas killed Elise. Why don’t you just tell me what you know about the charge.”

  “If I do, will you promise not to tell anybody else?”

  “How can I do that? This is a murder case.”

  “Okay, not unless you absolutely have to.”

  “All right, all right.”

  “Elise had a boyfriend named Ted. Ted was handpicked and approved by her father.”

  “Were they serious?”

  “He was more serious than she was. But I think she had become resigned to marrying him.”

  “That doesn’t sound like till-death-do-us-part love.”

  “No, but remember, Elise was always trying to please her father.”

  Always didn’t sound like the right word. “Even to letting him pick her husband.”

  “That’s what it looked like to me. Ted believes that people shouldn’t have sex until they get married. He claims he’s a virgin. But Elise…”

  “Wasn’t.”

  “She had another serious boyfriend before Ted, one definitely not picked by her father. Last year Elise and I roomed together in a dorm. Sometimes I had to leave the room while she and her boyfriend…”

  “I get the picture. I still don’t understand what this has to do with Elise filing a harassment charge against Mark…Dr. Pappas.”

  “The fact that she wasn’t a virgin gnawed at Elise because she figured it would be found out when she got married, if not before. She needed to get it excused in Ted’s eyes. She came up with this idea of filing a harassment charge for nonconsensual sex. I told her not to, especially not against Dr. Pappas. But she did it anyway.”

  “Why did she choose Dr. Pappas?”

  “Because…he’s young and good looking, and because…I suspect Elise fantasized about him, just like I did.”

  There’s nothing like living out your fantasies. “So Ted knew about the harassment charge because he was meant to. I gather that her father didn’t know about it.”

  “She didn’t want him to know about it because she was afraid he would hurt Dr. Pappas.”

  “But the consequences of the charge, itself, wouldn’t.”

  “I warned her about that. But she wasn’t thinking straight. I don’t think she thought it would hurt Dr. Pappas as much as it did. Or cause an uproar on campus. The whole thing was supposed to be confidential.”

  “Who do you think leaked the fact that Mark was the accused?”

  “I’d rather not say. I work in the Administration Building and I don’t want to lose my job.”

  “You’ve said enough. I want to talk to this guy, Ted.”

  “The police have already talked to him.”

  We had been standing in the bedroom all this time. I had noticed a loose-leaf binder sitting on Donna’s dresser. The cover had been hand-decorated with music notes and flowers. The word “Compositions” was written on it in fancy script.

  “Are you a writer?” I asked her.

  She followed my gaze to the notebook and giggled in an embarrassed manner. “I like to write. I’ve written some poems and stuff. The drama department put on a musical review last fall. I wrote the words to many of the songs they sang, including all the songs that Elise sang.”

  “That’s impressive. I read that Elise was a singer. She must have been good.”

  “She was great. She was going to have the lead in Carousel, the May musical here at the college. Here death really upset things. They’ve been going crazy trying to recast the part of Julie.”

  Speaking of crazy, I had one of my crazy ideas. “Where do your parents live?” I asked.

  “In Virginia. Near Washington, D.C. They both work for the government.”

  “So you don’t go home weekends.”

  “Oh, no. They asked me if I wanted to come home for a while…to get over the shock, but then I’d miss school. I think I can handle it here, but of course it’s hard.”

  “On Sundays my family gathers for brunch at my son’s farm in Chapel Hill. You have a car. How would you like to drive down and have brunch with us? Dr. Pappas is a friend of the family, too. I think I can arrange for him to be there.”

  She blushed at my mention of Mark’s name. “That…sounds like fun, but I don’t want to intrude.”

  I assured her that we brought friends to the brunch all the time.

  She consented, thanked me and then added, “Please don’t tell Dr. Pappas that I was the Shooting Star. That would be just too embarrassing.”

  I agreed and gave her directions to Albert’s farm. Then I said, “One last question. Who do you think killed Elise?”

  “I wish I knew.” Donna looked puzzled. “I know you’re trying to help Dr. Pappas. I’d like to work with you to find the killer.”

  “I’ll take you up on that.”

  Chapter 14

  The office of Burt Brown, my attorney friend, was plush considering his age, early thirties, and the fact that he had been out of law school only a few years. His parents had been friends of Milt, my late husband, and me, altho
ugh they were younger than we were. We had known each other since before Burt was born.

  Burt’s firm handled cases ranging from murder to immigration and I wanted him to be in at the start with Mark, even though Mark hadn’t been charged with anything yet. He had agreed to meet us on Saturday morning before his golf game, because of the family friendship.

  Burt met us in the lobby of his firm’s offices, which were in a new office building in Durham.

  “Hi Aunt Lillian, it’s good to see you,” he said, greeting me with a warm smile and a hug.

  Of course I wasn’t really his aunt. He wore a golfing sweater and casual slacks. He was about the same height as I am and his exotic good looks, caused by his mixed ancestry, had to attract females, although I wasn’t aware that he was involved in any romantic entanglement. His mother was Malaysian. His parents had met while his father served with the military in Asia during the Viet Nam war.

  I introduced Burt and Mark to each other, and Burt led us into his office. In addition to his desk and some shelves filled with law books, the furniture consisted of a sofa, several functional chairs and a large, antique rocking chair with giant arms and a hand-carved back. The seat had been recently recovered. Burt waved us to the couch.

  “Sorry, Aunt Lillian,” Burt said, “there’s no coffee because it’s Saturday, but I have soft drinks and fruit drinks. Can I get you something?”

  I asked for water and Mark requested a coke. Burt got a fruit-flavored drink for himself and a bottle of designer water for me; all the drinks came from a small refrigerator in the corner of his office. After he had served us, Burt produced a yellow legal pad, the same kind Tess had been using to record notes for me. I was glad to see that Tess used official legal stationery. He sat down in the rocking chair and rocked gently back and forth.

  “This chair is over 100 years old,” Burt said. “It still has the original buggy springs in the seat.”

  “Almost as old as I am,” I said, looking at it with new respect.

  “So, Mark,” Burt said, in a conversational tone, “I understand you’re involved in the case of the coed murder at Crescent Heights College. I read about it in the paper. What’s her name…Elise something-or-other?”

  “Hoffman,” Mark said. “Elise Hoffman. I haven’t been accused of anything yet, but the detective questioned me for several hours on Thursday afternoon.”

  “And Aunt Lillian tells me you’ve been suspended from your teaching job.”

  “That’s right. I found out yesterday morning. The reason it happened so fast is because Elise had previously brought a sexual harassment charge against me.”

  “In fact, you were supposed to see me about the harassment on Wednesday, if I recall correctly.”

  “I apologize for not showing up.” Mark looked contrite. “That was the day I fell apart.”

  Burt had said that with a twinkle in his eye, but we owed him for wasting his time.

  “All right, tell me about your relationship with Elise and then tell me everything you did on Wednesday.”

  Burt took notes with a Mont Blanc pen as Mark told his story, which went on for half-an-hour. Burt interrupted, occasionally, with questions. I was impressed with his thoroughness and his professionalism. Any time you watch a child grow up you tend to still think of him as a child, even after he has become a fully functioning adult.

  When Mark had finished his story, Burt rocked in his chair and stared at the pictures on the wall of him playing golf with people who looked to me like celebrities I should recognize. I would have to take a closer look at those pictures. I wondered whether Burt was thinking about Mark or about playing golf.

  “Okay, this is what we’re going to do,” Burt said, returning his gaze to Mark and me. “We’re going to take very seriously the possibility of Mark being charged with murder. Mark, you’re going to carry on with your life and look the picture of innocence. You’re not going to go out of town or do anything that might arouse suspicion. It’s okay for you to work as a bartender. That’s what you were doing before you started teaching and you’ve got to eat.

  “You’re going to try to get your suspension at the college lifted. Find out the exact reason for the suspension. If it has anything at all to do with Elise’s murder, I’ll be on top of it like a linebacker sacking the quarterback because, since you haven’t been charged with anything in connection with her murder, they can’t legally suspend you for that.

  “If the suspension is for the harassment, I can’t intervene directly because of their own rules, but you can take this approach. Try to get the harassment charge dismissed because Elise is no longer available to testify. Play the recording for them in which Elise said she was going to drop the charges against you. If these people have any humanity at all they’ll dismiss the charge and reinstate you.”

  “Everything you’ve said makes sense,” Mark said.

  “I’m not through,” Burt said, with a smile. “Mark, I don’t want you talking to the police. If they ask you any questions, refer them to me. I also don’t want you running around playing detective. I don’t want you going to Club Cavalier or talking to anybody connected with Elise, including her roommate, her parents or her boyfriend. You’re going to leave that sort of thing to the police. And to me.”

  “What about me?” I asked, feeling guilty because I hadn’t told them that Donna claimed to be the Shooting Star. Maybe I shouldn’t have promised her to keep quiet.

  “Aunt Lillian, you’re the last person I would try to tell what to do. Nobody can tell you what to do. You’re irrepressible. In fact, I encourage you to continue your own investigation because you might find something that the police don’t. I heard about your previous exploits as a detective and I’m impressed. If you’re even a little bit careful I don’t think the police will be bugged by what you’re doing because you can fly under their radar. They don’t expect you to be out there and you can accomplish things without them noticing.”

  ***

  With Burt’s blessing I drove to Bethany again Saturday afternoon. Tess rode shotgun with me and watched the map.

  “How do you think I should play it with Ted?” I asked, as we turned onto the main street of Bethany.”

  “Maybe I should go in with you,” Tess said. “It sounds to me as if Ted is a very religious person and you’re about as religious as a vulture.”

  “That’s not fair,” I protested. “Just because I watch the ceiling whenever I’m inside a church to see if it’s going to come crashing down doesn’t mean that I can’t talk to religious people. And besides, I try to increase harmony in the world.”

  “I never said you weren’t a good person. Being a good person isn’t the same as being a religious person.”

  “Amen to that.”

  “Turn right at the light.”

  A few more turns and we were on the street where Ted lived, in the basement of a residential house. Donna had given me his address and told me that we were likely to find him home even on a weekend because he spent a lot of his time studying, although his routine would understandably have been interrupted by Elise’s murder. Tess spotted the house and we parked 100 feet past it. My recent experiences had taught me it’s a good thing to be somewhat devious when one is a detective.

  I decided that Tess might add some leavening to my vulture-like approach (using her words) and so we walked back to the house together. The long driveway was asphalt, instead of the gravel of the Hoffmans’ driveway, and thus easy walking. Our walk took us past the house, itself, an older wooden model with odd shapes projecting from the walls, forming, I suppose, nooks inside where the inhabitants found sanctuary.

  The door in the back was right where Donna had said it would be so I didn’t hesitate to knock on it. There was no doorbell. My knock was followed by silence for so long that I suspected Ted was not in residence, but eventually footsteps sounded behind the door and it opened.

  The young man who looked out at us was tall and quite thin, with short, blondish hair and
aviator-style glasses, which gave him a studious look.

  “I’m sorry to bother you,” I said, practicing my compassion, “but I knew Elise, and I wanted to express my condolences to you. I’m Lillian Morgan and this is my friend Tess.”

  “Er, thank you,” he said, looking from one of us to the other. And then, as an afterthought, “Uh, won’t you come in?”

  As he turned to lead us inside I detected a whiff of what might be alcohol on his breath. Did religious people drink alcohol? There were a number of steps going down to what was clearly the basement. I hung onto Tess, whose walking was somewhat wobbly under the best of conditions. We made it all right and followed Ted into a messy room with a few pieces of furniture and two small, ground-level windows, high up on adjoining walls.

  “Do you want to sit down?” he asked, lifting a pile of clothes from an old chair and throwing them into a corner. I suspected this was his only room, except for a small kitchen and smaller bathroom that I could see through open doors.

  I let Tess take the closest chair because it looked firm and she had the hardest time getting up. I sat on the couch, which I was sure had a hide-a-bed hiding beneath the pillows. Ted sat in a chair with a footrest, facing a television set that was broadcasting a basketball game. A lit lamp on a table beside him didn’t help much to relieve the gloom. Neither did the dim light coming in through the windows. An open beer can and a half-eaten sandwich sat on the table. He turned off the TV with a remote.

  “So you knew Elise?” he said to me.

  As usual, I was conscious of the possibility of digging myself into a hole. “I knew her slightly,” I said. “She was such a bright and beautiful girl. It’s such a shame what happened.”

  “Who would do a thing like that?” he said.

  He slurred his words a little and looked as if he might be close to tears. Maybe he had been drowning his sorrows.

  “You can take comfort in knowing that she’s in a better place,” Tess said.

  Ted looked at her for a moment and said, “Right,” as if he wasn’t completely convinced of that.