by Alan Cook
This was new, but I had better not dwell on it. “Of course not. But tell me more about how you think Donna felt about Elise—about their relationship. I know they were friends and all that, but if Donna came to you it must have been because there was a problem between them, or at least in her mind there was a problem between them. Elise was pulling away; isn’t that what you said? Okay, that sort of thing happens. If Elise didn’t want to team up with Donna she just had to make other plans.”
“Donna envied Elise…maybe she felt she was nothing without Elise. She almost seemed to be desperate to hold onto her.”
“That sounds like a love affair gone wrong.”
“Donna isn’t one of those lesbian dykes, if that’s what you mean. And my baby was normal too. But…I can’t ever be friends with Donna again. Not after what she did at Club Cavalier. Seducing men, breaking up families…”
In another minute the human race would be doomed to an early extinction. I said, “Donna is smart and talented, in her own right. She doesn’t need Elise for validation.”
“I’m no headshrinker. I don’t know what Donna needs. But she’d better watch out.”
***
We ate lunch in the Crescent Heights College cafeteria. Mark said that as far as he knew he hadn’t been suspended from using the cafeteria. Several students said hello to him as we went through the line and one wished him well. After we sat down I told him about the conversation I had had with Eric. I wanted his opinion about Donna.
“Donna appears to be a manipulator,” Mark said as he swallowed a bite of hamburger. “Strippers manipulate men. And she certainly has old Eric where she wants him.”
“He told me Donna sat in his lap,” I said. “She must have been watching the lap-dancers at Club Cavalier. Or maybe she participated.”
“And don’t forget the possibility that Eric may be impotent. That leg injury may be more than just his leg. Maybe she keeps Eric on her side by letting him taste her strawberries. Maybe that’s all he can do.”
I laughed. “Which may be one game more than June will play. But the real question about Donna is whether her ‘desperation’ about Elise, as Eric called it, was enough for her to kill Elise.”
“It’s possible. And in spite of what Eric told you, there may be more to their relationship that we don’t know about, or that he doesn’t know about.”
“Implying what?”
“Nothing. Or everything. Young women, even well brought up young women, sometimes go through periods of experimentation. At least that’s what I’ve heard. But even if there was nothing physical between them, it’s possible that Donna thought Elise was snubbing her. That could be very upsetting to her.”
“Eric also said that Donna had better watch out. I wonder what he meant by that.”
“It occurs to me that the time these people should have watched out was before Elise was killed.” Mark had been glancing around the noisy and crowded room. He gestured with his eyes and said, “Look three tables to your left.”
Speak of the devil. It was Donna, all right, sitting alone at a small table, eating a sandwich. Her profile was toward us and I didn’t think she had seen us. We studied her for a few seconds and I wondered something I had wondered many times before: How can people recognize their relatives and friends out of the billions of people in the world, many of whom must look like them? In Donna’s case she was very average looking; her features did not single her out and yet I was completely certain it was she from her hair, her head and arm movements, and other cues, however minor, that when taken together, added up to a complete picture. But as easy as it was to spot Donna, I knew it would have been easier to spot Elise, sitting at the same table.
“Stay here,” I said to Mark. “You’re not supposed to talk to her, but I’m going to.”
Mark looked concerned. “Be careful what you say.”
“I’m always careful.”
I took a circular route to Donna’s table, walking behind her so that when she saw me she would be facing away from Mark. I approached her from her other side and said, “Is this seat taken?”
“Oh…hi, Professor,” Donna said, startled, as she looked up from a book she was reading.
“I don’t mean to interrupt. I spotted you across a crowded room and wanted to say hello.”
“No, please sit down.” Donna had recovered her composure. “It’s good to see you. And I wanted to thank you again for inviting me to Professor Morgan’s…” she laughed, “…the other Professor Morgan’s farm. I had a great time.”
“I’m glad you could come,” I said. “We all enjoyed having you,” including Mark at least by implication, figuring that his opinion would weigh heaviest with her. “What are you reading?”
“Oh, this. It’s poetry. Emily Dickinson. It doesn’t have anything to do with any of my classes. I should be reading my physics book. Which reminds me, the class really missed having Dr. Pappas give the lecture yesterday. He makes everything so understandable. The professor who took over the class is an old guy—excuse me, I didn’t mean that in a derogatory way—who talks in long sentences and I couldn’t follow him well enough to take good notes. I hope Dr. Pappas gets his job back soon.”
I looked over at Mark’s table, but he had disappeared. I said, “So do I. Do you like Emily Dickinson?”
“Well, as you know, I fancy myself to be somewhat of a poet so I figured I should learn from the greats. But what I really want to be, as I think I told you, is a lyricist. That’s the only way you can make any money as a poet.”
“But of course that’s a difficult profession to break into. Incidentally, I talked to Eric Hoffman this morning. He said the two of you are friends.”
Donna looked startled at the mention of Eric’s name. She giggled, nervously, and said, “Yeah, I guess you could say we’re friends. He’s a sweet man.”
“And someone you can talk to about your dream of being a lyricist?”
“He’s a good listener.”
“And he might have had some influence with Elise and helped her to see that you and she belonged in a partnership together.”
I must have been very witty because Donna laughed again.
She said, “I didn’t need anybody to speak to Elise for me. We got along just fine.”
“Did she want to sing professionally?”
“She was thinking about it. She was talking about singing with the rock group again this coming summer.”
“And you were going to write lyrics for them?”
“Well…they are looking at some words I wrote to see if they can put them to music.”
“When did you decide to disclose your secret identity?”
Donna looked puzzled so I said, “I read the article about you in today’s Bethany Bugle.”
“Oh, that.” Donna laughed again and looked around, apparently to see if anybody was listening. “The police knew about it and you knew about it. I figured it would come out, anyway, in conjunction with the investigation, so I decided, what the heck, when a reporter called, asking questions about Elise.”
“What has been the reaction of your friends?”
“My female friends all say they wish they had the guts to do it.”
“And your parents?”
“With any luck they won’t find out.”
Chapter 19
King and I were taking our morning walk when the police arrested Mark. Maybe Detective Johnson planned it that way. He knew something about my habits and he didn’t want to get into a gunfight with me. Of course, I hadn’t owned a gun since the days of my youth spent on a farm where I had plinked tin cans and the occasional woodchuck with my .22.
The police car passed me on the loop road around Silver Acres and I had immediate concern for Mark, but I rationalized that Detective Johnson drove an unmarked car so this must be somebody else. I didn’t see the car leave Silver Acres. I must have been on the other half of the loop when it did. However, when I returned to my apartment Mark was gone. I found a scribbl
ed note that read, “I’ve been arrested.” It was signed, “M.”
I immediately called Sandra, but I got her answering machine. I left a message. I called Albert and caught him at home. I told him what I knew, which was almost nothing, and he said to keep him informed. I was glad that he appeared to be very concerned, although there wasn’t anything he could do at the moment. But at least I wasn’t alone in trying to defend Mark. Outside of our family Mark didn’t really have anybody to turn to because he was an orphan with no close relatives.
Next I called Burt Brown, the attorney. He wasn’t in his office yet so I left a message on his machine. I found the business card that Detective Johnson had given me and called his number, but of course he didn’t answer either so I left a message on his machine. With modern technology you could spend most of your life talking to machines.
***
At 9:30 I finally got a call from Burt. He apologized for the delay and said that he had gone to court early to get a client out of jail.
“Well, now you’ve got another client you have to get out of jail,” I said.
“Okay, Aunt Lillian, let’s take this one step at a time,” Burt said. “First we have to find out what he’s charged with.”
“I assume he’s charged with murder.”
“But on what evidence? As far as I know, the police don’t have enough evidence to charge him with anything. And if they can’t charge him they have to release him. If they have new evidence, as his attorney I’m entitled to know what it is.”
“How soon can you find out?”
“It may take some time. Until I do, I’m going to have to ask you not to talk to anybody connected with the case. Can you do that for me?”
I promised, reluctantly. The most difficult thing for me to do was nothing.
***
I had no reason not to attend the Thursday afternoon chess club. In fact, it would keep me out of trouble—trouble defined as involvement with anything to do with Elise’s murder. I had not heard from anybody since morning. Burt hadn’t called me again and Detective Johnson hadn’t called me at all. I guessed he wouldn’t call me unless he thought I could give him some information.
Wesley was at the chess club and I challenged him to a game. I wanted to get revenge for the defeat I had suffered at his hands two weeks before. I drew the black pieces so Wesley moved first. He liked to establish a solid position before he launched an offensive. I countered by setting up my defense as I looked for an opening. If he wasn’t going to attack, I would.
I started my offensive before I had my pieces positioned properly. I led with my queen too early in the game and it became vulnerable to attack by inferior pieces. While fighting to save my queen I had to give up material. Then we traded pieces and I played better, but Wesley ended up with two pawns on the board to my none. We each had our queen and king.
I had lost my chance for a win. All I could do was attempt to salvage a draw. With Wesley’s pawns threatening to become queens, themselves, I couldn’t afford to trade queens with him. I needed to be creative. I moved my king into the corner toward which his pawns were advancing in tandem and played cat-and-mouse with his king, checking him with my queen but backing off when he placed his queen between his king and my queen.
My opportunity came when he moved his queen into a position that shut off my king from all movement. I moved my queen next to his king, checking him and forcing him to capture my queen with his king. Ordinarily, losing the queen is disastrous, but in this case I was stalemated—not in check but not able to move without being in check. A stalemate is a draw.
Wesley threw up his hands and said, “They say a draw is like kissing your sister, but when you should have won it’s far worse.”
“I wouldn’t know,” I said. “I don’t have a sister.” The game had been a lesson to me. Something like “patience is a virtue.” When do we get old enough so that we’ve learned all the lessons? “Are you free for dinner?” I asked. “I’m sworn not to do anything about the murder right now, but I’ll feel better if I can talk about it.”
***
“Are you sure this young fellow has enough experience to defend Mark adequately?” Wesley asked when I had given him a rundown on what I knew.
We were sitting alone at one of the small tables in the dining room. Tess was off somewhere with one of her children and we hadn’t invited anybody else to eat with us.
“He’s been defending murder cases for several years,” I said, “as well as other felonies: armed robbery, drugs, the everyday crimes. If he needs help there are attorneys in his office with more experience than he has. I think he’ll do fine. What rankles me is not being able to participate. I hate doing nothing.”
“Tell me about it.” Wesley smiled. “You are the original ‘I’d rather do it myself’ person. Did you ever let your husband do anything for you?”
“I let him buy me flowers once in a while. And other presents, as long as I picked them out. Seriously, though, we were a partnership. He had an independent streak, also, but we worked very well together. Just ask Albert. We always agreed with each other on how to raise him so he could never play one of us against the other.”
“Well, since you’re grounded for the moment, would you like to come over to my place? I’ll show you the latest calligraphy I’ve done.”
“That sounds suspiciously like inviting me over to see your etchings.”
“You may have seen the statistics that show more than half the men over 60 are impotent. At my advanced age, you don’t have much to worry about.”
“As a statistician, what worries me is people who use statistics to promote their own causes.”
“I’ll give you a flower from my Easter rose and I’ve got some delicious liqueurs. We can get pleasantly warm together and tell each other lies about great bridge and chess games in which we’ve played.”
So this is how seduction is carried out in a retirement community.
Chapter 20
“Thanks for coming, Aunt Lillian,” Burt Brown said as he gave me a hug and ushered me into his office. “I want to tell you everything I’ve found out and get your opinion. You know these people better than I do.”
That corresponded perfectly with my wishes because I had been starved for information since yesterday morning and wanted desperately to get back in the loop.
“When can you get Mark out of prison?” was my first question.
“Not so fast.” Burt smiled, running his hand through his dark hair. “It may take a few days. Murder is a serious charge. There will be a bail hearing, but I’d better warn you, it’s possible that the judge will deny bail or set it impossibly high.”
“And then Mark would have to stay in prison?”
“It could happen. Of course, if we can prove that somebody else killed Elise…”
“The Perry Mason approach.”
“Perry Mason, the idol of all defense attorneys. He never lost a case.”
“I guess I am trying to move too fast. That’s how I almost lost a chess game yesterday. Why don’t you tell me about the new evidence.”
“That’s what I want to do. It seems that this girl Donna went to the police Wednesday afternoon.”
“Donna?” I exclaimed. “Donna testified against Mark? Donna likes Mark. Donna has a crush on Mark.”
“That’s what she said in her testimony,” Burt said, glancing at some computer-printed pages. “In fact, that’s the reason she gave for not telling this before. Evidently, she was trying to protect Mark and hoped somebody else would be arrested for the murder. But her conscience got the better of her.”
“I talked to Donna Wednesday at noon. Everything seemed to be hunky-dory with her then.”
“Why don’t you let me tell you what she said and then we can discuss it. As I said, Donna went to the police. Detective Johnson and somebody else took her testimony. She said that on the evening Elise was murdered she, Donna, was getting ready to go to Club Cavalier to perform as the Shooting Star. E
lise was also getting dolled up, as if she was going out.
“Donna asked what she was doing because Elise usually studied in the evenings during the week. According to Donna, Elise hemmed and hawed for a while and then said she had a date with Dr. Pappas.”
“But that’s impossible. Mark was lost on Mt. Mitchell at the time. And Elise had filed a sexual harassment charge against him so why would she go out with him? Besides, Mark has a girlfriend—Sandra.”
“All good points,” Burt said, smiling, “and we will address them. As to the harassment charge, Elise confided to Donna that she was dropping it and that it had been a mistake for her to file it in the first place. And of course Elise left a message for you saying somewhat the same thing.”
I couldn’t deny that. But it did seem to take away Mark’s motive for murdering Elise.
Burt continued, “Elise said Dr. Pappas was crazy about her and she was crazy about him and that’s all there was to it. Now let me finish Donna’s story. She said that she left for Club Cavalier before Elise left. When she returned a little before 11 p.m., as she pulled up in front of the apartment she saw another car pull away. She didn’t know who it was at the time, but a few days later she saw the car of Dr. Pappas and realized that the car she had seen looked a lot like it.”
“She saw Mark’s car at Albert’s farm because I was stupid enough to invite her there to brunch. Great. I gave her the ammunition for her story.”
“Unfortunately, I’ve saved the worst for last. When the police arrested Mark yesterday they searched his car, using a warrant, and found a carving knife in the trunk, wrapped in a towel. There was dried blood on both the knife and the towel. The police lab is matching the blood with that of Elise.”
It took me a minute to recover from that one. Finally, I said, weakly, “Donna could have put the knife in the trunk at the farm. Mark doesn’t usually lock his car—he jokes that he wishes someone would steal it—and you can open the trunk with a latch inside the car.”
“So you think Donna is the murderer?”
“She could be making accusations to save her own skin.”
