Murder Is Academic

by P. M. Carlson

  Around seven Nick and Maggie arrived, laughing and warm. “Hi, Mary Beth. Dinner’s over, huh?” Maggie asked, dropping her backpack on the floor.

  “Well, actually, Jackie seems to have forgotten that it’s her turn. So we haven’t had much. Sue went to eat with Misha.”

  “Yeah, I saw my car was still gone. Where is Jackie?”

  “I don’t know for sure. Sue said she went to campus early this afternoon. She’s probably at the library; she said something about that.”

  “Well, we’re all entitled to a mistake occasionally. Listen, Nick, let me run this stuff upstairs and I’ll take you to the Steamboat. Do you like Victorian?”

  “Houses, yes. Food, no.”

  “Well, you’re in luck. Food is plain American, not too awful, with pseudo-Victorian names. Omelette à la Bernhardt.”

  “With ham.”

  She grinned. “No translations needed, I see. Back in a minute.” She sailed up the stairs, trailing backpacks and plaid blankets.

  “Here’s your car key,” said Nick to Mary Beth.

  “Thanks. Here’s yours.”

  “Someplace I could wash my hands?” he asked.

  “Sure. The bathroom’s upstairs. Or here in the kitchen?”

  “Kitchen’s fine.”

  “Any problems getting those speakers back?”

  “Well, the stage manager for Ernest in Love arrived early for his rehearsal. I had to head him off in the parking lot and spin yarns about stage managing in New York while Maggie got the last bits in and hooked up.” He was scrubbing his burly arms up as far as the elbows.

  “Spin yarns?” she repeated.

  “About how professional actors are saved time and again by noble and quick-thinking stage managers.” He gave her a droll look as he dried off.

  “At least you didn’t have to tell him different ways to get to the moon, like Cyrano.”

  He laughed. “Maggie said that too. It’s true, after today I’ll be able to do that scene with a lot of conviction.”

  He seemed such a cheerful man, it was hard to believe what he’d been through. Mary Beth was heartened. He wet a paper towel and wiped his face and balding head.

  “Do you want to sit down awhile?”

  “Oh, I’m fine. Maggie’s a rather exhausting friend to have, that’s all.”

  “She is that.”

  “Nonsense!” Maggie gusted into the kitchen, black curls brushed. She had changed to a fresh shirt, bright red. “Listen, let’s go. Je meurs de faim.”

  “She’s always hungry too. Have you noticed?” Nick asked Mary Beth.

  “Yes, I have.” She grinned at Maggie. “A living reproach to the satisfied.”

  “Why don’t you quit analyzing my unfortunate metabolic rate and come with us, Mary Beth?”

  “No, really, I’ve eaten. And I’ve found some interesting stuff for my thesis. I want to keep working at it.”

  “Work! God! I’m getting so far behind! But I have to eat,” Maggie added hastily.

  “You can always stay up late to work.”

  “Right. Sleep I can skip, not food. Come on, uncle, before famine strikes us down.” She grabbed a piece of dry bread and popped it in her mouth on the way to the door.

  Nick grinned and shrugged at Mary Beth, and followed her out. Mary Beth looked after them fondly. She had friends, she had work, and the rest might someday be okay. It was okay now for Nick. She went upstairs again to work on her thesis.

  The sun set.

  It was a little after ten and she was still working hard when the officer arrived, and Mary Beth heard what he had to say and covered her face with her hands. She made a huge effort and said, “I can’t. But my friend—let me get my friend.”

  “Your friend?”

  “At the Steamboat. Please.” She was holding herself together with strands of pure will.

  He drove her there in the patrol car and followed her in. Little bits of reality, like snapshots, clicked into her consciousness. The smell of cigarette smoke. A big placard inside the door proclaiming “Nostalgia Night, Starring Fats Waller.” She stepped past the line of booths, lined with fancy white gingerbread woodwork, and looked around the crowded room. “Ain’t She Sweet” was just coming to an end, fast and cheerful, and the dance floor was jammed with people. Mary Beth looked around frantically. Where was she?

  “Where is she?” the officer asked. Officer Morton, he had said.

  Then she saw them, across the floor. Maggie in her red shirt, dancing joyfully, and big Nick matching her stride for agile stride three feet away, two supple happy people moving harmoniously in the light of the Victorian lamps. “There,” said Mary Beth, and started around the dance floor.

  The music changed—the tempo was slow now. Maggie started off the floor, but Nick caught her hand and smiled and shook his head. Humoring him, she let him draw her close and he swirled her around a few steps, Fred and Ginger, as Mary Beth worked her way through the crowd toward them. The officer followed her discreetly.

  Mary Beth did not hesitate; she tapped Nick urgently on the arm. He looked around slowly, like someone waking up. Maggie pulled back from Nick’s arms in confusion, and for a second stared at him in complete lost panic. Then she saw Mary Beth.

  “What is it?” She reached for Mary Beth’s hand. “Something’s terribly wrong.”

  “It’s Jackie.”

  Maggie’s quick blue eyes noted Officer Morton’s presence, then returned to Mary Beth. “What about Jackie?” she asked gently.

  “They think she’s dead, Maggie,” whispered Mary Beth with the last shreds of her control. “With a triangle on her cheek.”

  XII

  10 Aqbal (June 18, 1968)

  The rest of the night was a blur to Mary Beth. They all went with Officer Morton to someplace official, the medical examiner was there, and she sat in a sort of lobby with Nick and held herself stiffly and tried not to think. The Lords of Death were crouched silently at the back of her mind, ready to spring. Nick patted her on the shoulder, trying to reassure her, but he kept looking anxiously toward the door where Maggie had disappeared with Officer Morton. Eventually she reappeared, looking grim, and nodded once to them.

  “At least it was quick,” she said, with helpless anger in her eyes and voice. “They say she wasn’t even bruised.” To Mary Beth, the words seemed to have no meaning. Nothing had meaning.

  “It was the Triangle Murderer?” Nick asked. He had reached out for Maggie’s hand when she appeared, but she had gone unseeing to Mary Beth’s other side and now sat down to hold her roommate’s hand.

  “Yeah. They say it looks like the others,” Maggie said. “This guy is impotent about half the time.”

  “But he didn’t beat her?”

  “Some are beaten up more thoroughly than others. The only odd thing was that he put her back into the car. Into my car.’’ Her eyes closed and she bit her lip.

  “When did it happen?” asked Nick. Keeping her talking.

  “This afternoon. They found her by the highway ramp. Like the others. Knifed.” She frowned, fiercely keeping control of herself. “It was the same goddamn ramp, Nick.”

  “The same as what?”

  “The one we could see from the ridge. The one we used this morning. We must have passed within yards of her this afternoon.” She blinked for a moment and rested her forehead against the palm of her free hand. No, no, I need you, Maggie, don’t, thought Mary Beth. Or had she said it out loud? Screamed it so she could be heard above the raucous laughter of Hun-Came? Maggie squeezed her hand and straightened.

  “I’ll take care of what has to be done, Mary Beth,” she said. “Nick, let’s see if we can get her a sedative.”

  Part of Mary Beth realized that her body was shaking, all on its own.

  After a long time, somehow, she was in bed at home, and drowsy. There had been a doctor. There was something bad—it was Jackie, oh God, oh God.

  Finally she went to sleep, piece by piece.

  She awoke ver
y late Tuesday, to the certain knowledge that the world, so long disintegrating, had finally splintered. She had a headache and couldn’t remember quite what had happened for a while, but she also knew she didn’t want to remember. She dressed very carefully and brushed her hair slowly. Then she went downstairs.

  Sue, Nick, and Maggie were in the kitchen. Maggie was replacing the telephone receiver. “How are you, Mary Beth?” she asked.

  Mary Beth looked at her vacantly. “Jackie is dead,” she explained. “And I have a headache.”

  “He gave you a pretty big dose of sedatives last night,” Maggie said. “You’re supposed to take this now.” She handed her a mug of coffee and a pill.

  “You got some sleep, at least,” said Sue sympathetically. The freckled face was puffy, her eyes circled.

  Mary Beth sat down and took the pill and drank the coffee in one long draught. She began to pull her mind back into working order. “We should call her parents,” she said.

  “They’re on their way,” said Maggie. “The police called them.”

  “How about Frank?”

  “I spoke to him about an hour or two ago. He wouldn’t believe me.”

  She frowned. “What time is it?”

  “Noon.”

  “I missed my appointment with Greene.”

  “I called her. You’re to call back when you can to make another appointment.” Maggie refilled her mug.

  The coffee was helping. She said, “Did you get any sleep?”

  “Yeah. We sacked out a couple of hours,” said Sue. “And we let Nick crash on the sofa.”

  Mary Beth focused on Nick for the first time and they nodded somberly at each other. Then she asked, “What can I do?”

  “I think we’ll need help when the family gets here,” said Maggie. “Fixing lunch, going through her things with them.”

  “Okay.” She was glad for the promised task. But her head still hurt. There was something, some problem, that she could not endure.

  There was pounding at the front door. Sue and Maggie glanced at each other and went to answer, Nick and Mary Beth following.

  When Sue unlocked it, Frank exploded into the hallway.

  “Okay. Where is she? Where is she?” He looked frantically from one grim face to the other. “Look, I know you’re lying. Where is she?”

  “Frank, really, we can’t believe it either,” said Sue. “But it’s true. She was killed yesterday.”

  “You’re lying! It can’t be! She’s not here. None of you saw her!”

  “I did, Frank,” said Maggie quietly. He stared at her for a long minute.

  “You saw her?” he said at last.

  “With the police medical examiner.”

  “The police.” He tried to absorb it. “And ... ?”

  “And she was dead, Frank.”

  “Oh Christ!” He turned away from them, toward the door, and smashed his clenched hand through the glass. He was drawing back his bloodied fist for a second blow when Maggie seized it and twisted his arm back, tapping his legs from under him with a quick kick to the back of his knees. He fell to the floor with a sob. Maggie looked back at them sorrowfully.

  “Nick. I think you’re the one he needs.”

  “Okay.” Nick was already next to them, quick and quiet, and now leaned over the younger man, a powerful friendly arm around his shoulders. “Frank, let’s take a walk, okay?”

  “Oh Christ.”

  “Come on now.” He opened the door and led him out. It was another warm day, Mary Beth saw. Deceptively pleasant, for Aqbal.

  The Edwardses, stunned and bewildered, arrived an hour later, and Mary Beth fixed them tea and agreed with everything they said. Mr. Edwards was angry; he soon left for the police station to rage about their inability to capture criminals. Mrs. Edwards tried to sort through her daughter’s things, but could not bring herself to stay in Jackie’s room more then a few minutes at a time. She finally gave up and said she would try again tomorrow.

  Nick stopped by in midafternoon to say that Frank was quieter and had just started back for Syracuse, and that he himself had to get back now for the performance. But he promised to return as soon as he could.

  Sue suggested that Mrs. Edwards ought to talk to a funeral director. Mary Beth drove her over in the Land Rover, since Mr. Edwards was still at the police station. She was relieved to see that the practiced compassion of the funeral director had its intended effect; Mrs. Edwards, soothed and coherent, handled the decisions calmly, and said she would check them with her husband.

  A few people came by the house, shocked and angry. Sue and Maggie spoke to them, asking that they not talk to reporters. After Mr. Edwards returned and took his wife to their motel room to rest, a little circle of friends formed in the living room—Dan and Peter, Terry and Monica and other WAR members. The police spoke to several of them, trying to find out why Jackie had been driving on the highway, but no one knew.

  The group left at last and they opened some tuna fish for a late supper. Maggie went up to take a shower while Sue and Mary Beth straightened up. Mary Beth was picking up the last cups in the living room when there was a knock on the door. It was Nick, who had driven straight over after the show, face and arms still streaked in places with makeup that he had missed in his haste. Sue told him that Maggie was in the shower but she’d go up and tell her. Mary Beth was standing in the living room when he came in.

  “Hi, Mary Beth. How are you doing?”

  “You lied,” she said.

  Surprised, he stopped by the chair nearest the door. “When?” he asked.

  “You said you weren’t her lover.”

  “That was the truth, Mary Beth.”

  “You lied.” Part of her believed him. Even Maggie had said it was someone else. But a stronger fragment believed he was danger.

  “It wasn’t a lie.” He was puzzled. He tried to read her expression, and continued uncertainly. “But you’re right, things have changed. It just doesn’t seem like a good time to talk about it.”

  “You just want to fuck her.” She was gripping the Guatemalan blanket on the back of the sofa with both hands.

  “You’re upset, Mary Beth. Let’s talk about something else, okay?”

  “You said you were her friend. You aren’t. You’ll hurt her. Leave her alone!” Why wouldn’t he go?

  “Please, Mary Beth, let’s talk later.”

  “You just want to fuck her.”

  He was getting angry. “Goddamnit, Mary Beth, that’s not true! There’s a hell of a lot more to it! What do you want from me? What the hell are you trying to do?”

  He was big, and angry, and she had to protect Maggie from him. Mary Beth was frantic. She braced herself against the sofa and said again, “Leave her alone! You aren’t her friend! You just want to fuck her!”

  “Mary Beth,” said Maggie pleasantly from the door, “shut up or I’ll knock your jaw off.”

  Shocked into silence, Mary Beth stared at her friend. Nick sank wordlessly into the chair and covered his face with his hands.

  Mary Beth noticed that she was still gripping the sofa blanket, crushing it in both fists. There were tears starting to run down her face, but she did not feel sad. Maggie crossed the room and hugged her.

  “I think it’s time to talk, kid,” she said softly. Maggie led her around to sit on the sofa, keeping her arm around Mary Beth’s shoulders as she spoke to Nick. “Nick, I’ll try to take what you said as a compliment, okay? I want to be friends. Just like before. But right now maybe you’d better go.”

  Nick stood up and Mary Beth stiffened again. He was still angry. He said, “Maggie, look. I know everyone’s upset. But I don’t know why you’re encouraging your so-called friend there in this viciousness. And I think I deserve more than a breezy dismissal.”

  “You do. It’s not a breezy dismissal. It’s just that what we have to do will take a while. Please, Nick, try to forgive her. She was raped a while ago, and she hasn’t been able to talk about it at all, and she hasn’t
been able to forget it either. Especially now.”

  Just like that, calmly, she said it. Mary Beth shuddered at the simple words.

  Nick rubbed a big hand over his head and then said gently, “Philomel,” and suddenly he was kneeling in front of her, not frightening anymore, just concerned and friendly. “Mary Beth, I didn’t understand,” he said. “Listen, trust Maggie. She’ll see you through.” Mary Beth thought suddenly, What have I done to him? To this gentle man who suffered like me and spoke kindly and gave me hope? She looked away, ashamed. He was standing up again, saying firmly to Maggie, “I’m going now. But I’ll be back tomorrow, Maggie.”

  “Okay.”

  “Nine o’clock?”

  “Okay.”

  He went out. Mary Beth whispered, “Oh God, what did I say to him?”

  “He’ll be okay,” said Maggie a bit roughly. “He’ll get a chance to use all this emotion when he’s acting sometime.” She listened, pensive, while the door closed and his car started. Then she led Mary Beth up to her own room, pausing at Sue’s door to say, “Sue, Mary Beth and I have a job to do. Please don’t bother us unless it’s really important.”

  “I never do,” said Sue, predictably if untruthfully.

  Maggie closed the door and sat down on the edge of the bed near Mary Beth. “Okay. Talk,” she said, and took her hand.

  Mary Beth shook her head. “I’m so afraid, Maggie.”

  “Damn right you’re afraid. But it’s time to quit hurting yourself. And our friends.”

  Mary Beth nodded. “I’ll try. But I’m afraid.”

  “Well, I’ll be right here with you. Okay? We’ll be the Heroic Twins in the underworld and go together. Rivers of blood, and rooms of vampires, and sacrificial knives. Together.”

  Mary Beth drew a deep breath and began. And after a few words she found that she’d been wrong, and the Ixil right. You could not erase time. The minutes of that half-hour were clearer than yesterday in her memory, even now.