by Jessa Archer
“Of course I can’t!” I said. “It’s my office.”
“Okay, why don’t we all head back out to the lobby?” Travis said. “I need to notify campus security. Were you able to tell if anything was taken, Tig?”
“The computer is missing. That was pretty much the only thing in there aside from books that belonged to Amundsen and—” I stopped abruptly and turned back to the office, remembering the other thing that had been on my desk. Maybe it was under the books or back in the box.
But no. The picture of my nine-year-old self with Melinda Barry was also missing. The picture that Peele had taken out of my box of personal items.
Martin Peele, who obviously had keys to this office.
What if he hadn’t actually been searching for a book? What if he’d been looking for the thumb drive? Computers were now missing from both the Playhouse and Amundsen’s office. It would be entirely reasonable to assume that whatever was on that thumb drive was backed up on a computer somewhere.
But why take the photograph? That had no value to anyone except me—and even I didn’t value it enough that I would have traded the thumb drive as ransom.
That led me to an even more worrisome thought. Since he hadn’t found what he wanted here, would he start looking elsewhere?
I hurried back to the lobby.
“Do you know if Melinda spoke with Martin Peele back at the church? After he left the service?”
Travis held up one finger and finished his call, then turned to me. “I don’t know. She’s waiting with one of my deputies back at the church. We were about to head to the station when you called.” Glancing over at Alicia, who was suddenly all ears, he leaned closer and said, “I can’t say anything more, but if she’s a friend of yours, I really hope she has a good attorney.”
For a moment, I debated telling Travis my suspicions about Peele. But I was at least partly responsible for the fact that Melinda was now headed to the police station, apparently in legal jeopardy. If I got to my house and found Martin Peele skulking about, I would phone Travis immediately. But before I made any accusations, I wanted to see what was on the thumb drive. I could be way off base. Peele was my co-worker. The head of the department. I already had one strike against me with Dean Prendergast, and I didn’t want another one.
“I have to go.”
“Now?” Travis glanced down at the phone, then stashed it in his pocket. “Campus security said they’d be here in just a few minutes.”
“It’s urgent. Something…at the house…with Attila.”
All of that was kind of true. I did need to check something at the house. Attila was at the house, and therefore he was, technically, with what I needed to check. But since I knew that Travis would assume that the something I needed to check was directly related to Attila, it was also a lie, and I turned away before he could see the color rising to my cheeks.
“Tell campus security I’ll stop by after my class this afternoon.” As I headed out the door, I yelled back to Alicia. “I think I saw your keys in one of the bushes near your car. If you hadn’t been such a pain in my butt this week, I’d tell you which one.”
I hurried down the path to the parking lot as fast as the stupid heels would allow. As soon as I was behind the wheel, I pried them off and flung them onto the passenger floorboard before starting the engine.
Tap, tap.
I looked up to see Ben.
“Hey,” he said after I rolled down the window. “I’m supposed to put in two hours today. Anything specific you need me to do?”
I was about to tell him no, but then I said, “Would you mind driving out to the Playhouse? Don’t actually go in…just park at that little cluster of stores across the street. If you see anyone coming or going from the lot, give me a call. You’ve got my cell number, right?”
He nodded, a grin spreading across his face. “So…you want me to do a stakeout? At the Playhouse. Why?”
“Someone just trashed my office at Muncey looking for something. Stole the computer, too. I know they’ve already taken the computer from the Playhouse, but I think it’s possible they might search there again. And Ben…if you see anyone, do not confront them. Call me, and I will call Chief Lamm. Are we clear?”
He gave me a quick salute. “Aye, aye, captain. I’m on it. But could you tell me who you think we’re looking for?”
“I’m…not certain yet. I have a theory, though. I’m heading home to check it out.”
“And in this theory, I’m guessing the thief is also the person who whacked Amundsen?”
“I think that’s a fairly safe bet. Park across the street. Do not go in. Play it safe.”
“You, too. Don’t you have a three o’clock class over in Burton Hall?”
“Yeah, but the house is nearby, and this won’t take long. I’ll be back in plenty of time.”
When I arrived home, Caroline’s ghost was watching through the window. She looked a bit confused.
“You’re home early,” she said the instant I opened the door. “I thought you were Paige.”
“I have to go back,” I began as I stepped inside.
“Go back where?” someone asked from the sidewalk behind me.
I startled, thinking at first that it was Martin Peele. But it was Andrew Whitley from next door.
“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Were you talking to someone?”
“To myself. I realized I forgot something on campus.”
“Oh. It was just…for a moment there, I thought I saw someone at the window.”
“Nope.” That was actually true now, since Caroline had vanished. “No one home but Attila.”
“That’s what I thought, since no one answered the door. You had a visitor, maybe ten minutes ago. He rang the bell. Knocked, too, but no one answered. I was out here looking for Leo—he got away from my mother again—and I saw the man go around back. So, I followed and asked if he’d seen a peke-a-pom wandering around. He just shook his head and hurried back to his car. Seemed kind of nervous.”
“Could you describe him?”
“Fifties. Short. A bit stout. Looked like some actor my dad used to like. A comedian. From that show, Always Sunny in Philadelphia. Anyway, he might have just thought the place was still for sale, since he was peeking in through the windows. But I thought I’d let you know.”
“I appreciate it.”
Andrew grinned. “Just being neighborly, like you said the other day. Speaking of, sorry about my mom.”
I returned his smile. “We don’t get to pick our parents. I’m sure Paige has to say the same thing about me from time to time.”
As Andrew headed back to his house, I said, “I hope you found Leo?”
“Oh, yeah. Hiding beneath a car two blocks over. Terrified, of course. Probably had no clue how to get home. I love the little guy, but he is one painfully stupid ball of fur.”
“Well, thanks again for scaring off Danny DeVito.”
“That’s his name. Thanks. You saved me from googling it.”
Caroline reappeared when I closed the door behind me. “It was Martin Peele,” she said in a worried voice. “He had his jacket pulled down over his fist and was about to punch through the window near the back door when that boy spotted him. Jerry Amundsen was a creep, but I always liked Martin. Why would he try to break into my house?”
“Hopefully I’ll be able to answer that shortly. Are you okay?” I felt silly asking that question of a ghost, but she seemed really on edge. “I was a little concerned when I didn’t see you yesterday.”
“Oh, that,” she said. “Paige was watching The Sands of Time. It was something we always did together during the summer, and James had a lot of screen time yesterday. I got caught up in the story. Like I said before, I can’t follow things as easily if I’m not all…here. I kind of lost track of time.”
I stared at her for a moment, trying not to laugh. My mother apparently had limited time that she could be fully present, and she’d spent it watching a s
oap opera. But then I realized that was really only part of it. She’d been sharing time with Paige. And with my father, too, more or less. He was in character and on the TV screen, but it was still James Alden, and he was also someone she’d loved.
“Okay,” I said as I began climbing the stairs. “I just missed you. But…while you’re here, can you tell me if you knew anything about Amundsen’s real-estate company?”
“I knew enough not to invest in it. Wish I could say the same for Leslie.” Leslie Tully, who teaches math at Southern Coastal, had been my mother’s best friend since we moved to Caratoke. “Do they think that had something to do with his death?”
“Not sure.” I pulled the ledger and thumb drive out of the nightstand drawer and carried it into the office. After I jammed the drive into the slot, I began thumbing through the slips of paper, looking for the one marked ARDI. It had seemed like an unusual name, but so were several of the others, so I hadn’t really given it much thought.
By the time I located the correct slip, the password form had popped up on the screen. Caroline watched over my shoulder as I typed in the ten digits.
A file directory appeared.
“Voila!” Caroline said.
There was a folder labeled Contracts, and another labeled Prospects. But what I found more interesting were the folders with names on them. Mostly women’s names, but there were a few men, as well.
I clicked on the first folder, not even checking the name. There were three video files, and the folder view was set to icons, so I had a decent idea what they contained as soon as I saw a large bed in the center of the shot. Ten seconds into the first video, my suspicions were confirmed, and I’d seen far more than I ever wanted of Jerald Amundsen and a curvy blonde in a red teddy.
Enough of that. I quickly closed the file and began scanning through the dozens of other names— Brandi V., Zoya A., Bethany T., Alicia B.
“He was blackmailing them,” Caroline said from behind me. “Several of those names are faculty members. And oh my God, there’s Leslie’s name. Do not open her folder, Tig. I don’t…want…to…”
Caroline faded away, and I wondered whether it was voluntary this time. But I had no intention of clicking on any folder other than the one I needed to confirm. I scrolled past the others and opened the one marked Melinda B., dreading what I would find.
There were four videos this time. I didn’t click play. It felt like too much of an invasion of privacy, and I was about to close the folder when something about the file icon caught my eye. I enlarged it, and sure enough…the woman was Melinda Barry.
But the man with her wasn’t Amundsen.
In fact, he looked quite a bit like Danny DeVito.
Chapter Fifteen
My phone buzzed with a text before I could even get it out of my pocket. It was a local number, but not one I recognized.
Across from Playhouse now. Gray car in lot, but pretty sure it’s just Dr. Peele. Should I go ask him about the laptop?
I quickly texted back:
NO. Do NOT go in. Text me if he leaves.
There was a pause, and for a moment I was afraid he’d already started across the street to the Playhouse. But then he replied:
Dr Peele? R U kidding me?
I assured him that I was not kidding and then dialed Travis.
“You need to get out to the Playhouse,” I said as soon as he answered. “I’m almost certain that—”
My phone began to buzz, so I told Travis to hold on.
He’s leaving. Do I follow?
I considered this briefly, then told him to just head back to campus. Asking him to sit in the parking lot and watch the place had, in retrospect, been pushing the boundary of good sense. And anyway, there was just the one road leading out of Duck, at least for the first few miles. I didn’t even have to ask him which way Peele had turned, since the paved road became a trail along the beach around fifteen miles to the north, and then disappeared entirely ten miles beyond that at the Virginia border. Unless Peele lived north of the Playhouse, he was headed south.
“What’s going on, Tig?” Travis asked when I returned to the call.
“Can you get someone out to Route 12 to intercept Martin Peele coming back from the Playhouse? He’s in a gray car. I don’t know the specific make, but Melinda Barry might know. I think he’s heading back toward Caratoke, but you might want to check his address. No. Never mind. I remember the dean saying he lives in Kitty Hawk, so he’s definitely heading south.”
“Wait a minute. You went to the Playhouse? I thought you were going home to rescue Attila?”
“I am home. It’s a long story, but you need to question Peele about Amundsen’s death. Probably about the vandalism at my office, too, and definitely about why he was preparing to break into my house until my neighbor spotted him. Although…I guess I know the answer to that last part. I’ve found some evidence that I think you’re going to want to see.”
“Exactly when did you find this evidence?”
“Yesterday,” I said. “But I didn’t know it was evidence until just now. Do you want me to—”
“No. Wait there. I’m on my way.”
I glanced at the clock and saw that it was already twenty after two. “Sure,” I said. “I’ll wait here.”
The odds of me making my three o’clock now seemed very slim, so I called Ben to see if he could stop in and tell the class I might be a few minutes late.
“Maybe get them started on the exercises? Unless you have a class, of course…”
He laughed. “No. I’m done for the day. But this is major déjà vu. You know how many times I had to do this for Amundsen last year?”
“Sorry!”
“Nah, that’s okay. I’m willing to step up for a good cause. You’re serious, though? About Dr. Peele? He’s a nice guy, Tig.”
“I don’t know anything for certain, Ben. Maybe I’m wrong.” I thought of what Paige had said back at the restaurant, and added, “Or maybe he just snapped. Good people do that sometimes if they’re pushed too far.”
While I waited for Travis, I sat back down at the computer and began combing through the file directory to see how many of the names synced up with the little slips of paper that were clipped to the Playhouse ledger. Only a few, as it turned out, so maybe Amundsen hadn’t always mixed business with pleasure.
And then, against my better judgment, I began opening folders. I couldn’t bring myself to click on the actual files, but I was curious to see whether the videos were taken at different locations.
They weren’t. All of them appeared to be set in the same bedroom, with a rather gauche painting of a lion on the wall behind the bed. The only exception was the one with Melinda and Martin Peele. And even that room looked somewhat similar, like it could be in the same house. Or maybe two units in the same apartment complex? Hadn’t Dean Prendergast said they were neighbors for a while?
When the doorbell rang, I ejected the thumb drive and hurried down the hall. Travis was there, as I’d expected, but I was surprised to see Melinda Barry behind him. I probably shouldn’t have been surprised to see her, since he’d said that he was taking her down to the station for further questioning, but my mind had covered so much territory in the past few minutes that I’d kind of forgotten that.
Melinda didn’t meet my eye. She just kept looking down at the welcome mat, so I was pretty sure she had a decent idea about the nature of the evidence I’d found.
I stepped aside to let the two of them enter and then noticed a white SUV parked at the curb. Alicia was walking up the driveway, and it wasn’t just curiosity on her face. There was also a trace of fear.
Did she know about the files? Had Amundsen been blackmailing her, too?
I felt a momentary surge of pity, but there was no way I was letting Alicia inside. “Go back to your car. This is my house and you are not invited.” When Alicia didn’t stop, I added in a lower voice. “She needs to go, Travis.”
Travis turned back toward the reporter.
“Private property, Alicia. And even if it wasn’t, this is police business. You’re not going to get a story here, so why don’t you head on back to your office. Call me later tonight and maybe I’ll have a statement.”
Alicia stopped and glared at the three of us. “I’ll just wait, Officer. Or is there now a law against me parking at the curb?”
He ignored her comment and stepped into the foyer, closing the door behind him. “Okay, Tig. I’ve got one of the two deputies on duty headed down Route 12 and the other one at Peele’s house. What’s this all about?”
I took a deep breath. This would be so, so much easier if Melinda wasn’t in the room.
“It’s okay,” Melinda said, finally looking up. “You found the videos, right?”
“Yes.” I handed the thumb drive, wrapped in the scrap of paper labeled ARDI, to Travis. “This was hidden inside the frame Amundsen bought for last year’s cast photo. At the Playhouse. I opened the back of the frame, and there it was. That slip of paper has the password. It was in some of the files at the Playhouse. And…it’s not just video of Melinda. There are dozens of others. At least one student. She’s almost certainly eighteen by now, but I don’t know when the videos were taken. Plus, there are a bunch of contracts for his development company with those same individuals. He had a nice little blackmail racket going.”
Melinda pulled in a shaky breath. “I swear I didn’t know he was doing this to anyone else. Definitely not to students. If I’d known that, I’d have reported him back in December.”
“Maybe we could sit down and you could start from the beginning,” Travis said. “Unless you’d rather we do this in private?”
“No. Tig already knows what happened. No reason why she shouldn’t also know why.”
“Okay, then,” he said. “Would you like some water, or maybe tea?”
I went into the kitchen and grabbed three bottles of water from the fridge. When I turned back around, Caroline was in the window seat. Attila, who had been doing lazy eights around my legs as I talked to the others, was now in his happy spot, smack in the middle of my mother’s lap. I flashed her a questioning look, but then remembered her saying it was harder for her to really focus on what was happening if she wasn’t fully present. This was undoubtedly more compelling than today’s episode of The Sands of Time. I just hoped Travis and Melinda weren’t tuned in to whatever wavelength Caroline existed on.
