Taj shivered unexpectedly, he had felt the same with Micah too, but he had quickly dismissed it. If that were true, why he didn't feel a connection to Ryan Bancroft? What he felt was antipathy mixed with a mild dislike, and obviously Micah didn't know he was adopted. He snatched a quick look at Natasha and found her gazing between him and Micah contemplatively.
"Your family sounds fascinating," Natasha said. "Where is your father from originally?"
"Some place near the sea," Micah said vaguely. "I think my grandfather was a fisherman. The whole family migrated to the US when my father was a teenager. He doesn't talk about his earlier years much…probably too ashamed of his heritage. He probably wants everyone to believe he was born to educated parents with hundreds of letters behind their names."
The fine hairs at the back of Natasha's neck stood up in tension, she even rubbed them slowly.
"Do you know the name of the place where your father grew up?"
"No," Micah shook his head, "my father and grandparents never really spoke about that. There weren't many back in the days stories at my house, so there can't be any ammunition for you there." He said looking at Taj slyly. "He was just a teenager when he left Jamaica. He couldn't have been up to anything much. Besides, my grandparents were strict Christians. I think they were the ones who forced my Dad to marry my Mom so early. Come to think of it, that is probably the reason why my Dad is such a hard nut to crack."
He shook his head. "My grandparents were tough on him and Uncle Oswald..."
His voice trailed away when a girl in a short jeans shorts and an eggshell blue blouse with a plunging neckline stood at the lounge door. The noise had died down a bit as she stood in the doorway, confident of the attention.
"There she is," Micah said to them quietly, "Miss St. Elizabeth. The reigning queen Deidra. Who defies the dress code of the lounge and takes pride in emphasizing her generous breasts and pert behind for the entire world to see. My forced fiancé." He smirked as Deidra headed over to them.
"Hi," She said confidently to the table at large then she looked at Micah. "I am in a crisis."
"What's the crisis?" Micah asked patiently.
"I can't find my car keys," she said bracing out her chest, "can you come and help me?"
Micah rolled his eyes. "If you insist."
"Bye," she barely glanced at Natasha and Taj confident that Micah would follow in her wake.
"Hey, Taj, don't be a stranger," Micah said while he got up, "and you too Natasha. I must visit your psychiatry center when it's complete to schedule some appointments," he said to Taj. "I need to work out some of my Daddy issues before it is too late."
Taj grinned. "I might be president, who knows?
Micah grinned. "Then you'll have no time for me, but I'll still come over to your office and have a chat." He waved as he jogged to catch up to Deidra.
"She is something else," Natasha said whistling when Deidra and her heavy perfume exited the building.
Taj nodded. "That's what you call a dream shape. She looks like a fantasy woman."
Natasha furrowed her brow. "Didn't you see her attitude and her arrogance?"
"Nah," Taj said, "I just saw her pert..."
"Oooh," Natasha said steaming, "don't tell me you are one of those men?"
Taj rubbed his chin, a twinkle in his eye. "This reaction is indicative of some deep seated feminist issues. Please detective, do expound. Who are these men that you so angrily refer to?"
"You are teasing me aren't you?" Natasha asked looking at the smiling lines of his full red lips.
"Yup," Taj said grinning, "and you fell for it."
Natasha shook her head and sipped some more of her fruit juice. "Something is bothering me. There is some common thread with Bancroft's past. I just can't put my finger on it. I probably need to sleep on it." Her phone rang and she snatched it out of her pocket automatically.
"Where are you?" Harry hissed down the line, "I have hit jackpot and I am hungry. Where are you?"
"At the lounge. I am heading home now."
She hung up the phone and stood up. "Taj, I've got to go."
"I will walk you to your dorm," Taj said getting up too. "Even though this place is crawling with campus security and you probably know more self-defense moves than me I am still escorting you home."
Natasha grinned. "Who said that chivalry is dead?"
Chapter Nine
Natasha opened the door to her room; a big cheesy grin was on her face. She and Taj had joked and laughed all the way to the dorm. He was surprisingly easy to be with and very easy to talk to. From the short walk from the front of the dorm to her room she had concocted in her head a little fantasy that they were both students at the university and had just started dating.
She had been so consumed by her little fantasy that it was almost a let down to enter her room and realize that this was no fantasy; she was investigating a murder; a very sophisticated murder at a Christian college and they hadn't even begun to crack the case.
"Thank God, you are back," Harry said feelingly and rubbing his belly.
She placed the bags with the snacks beside him. "Knock yourself out."
Harry nodded. "Don't mind if I do."
He grabbed the package with a bun and a hunk of cheese and proceeded to chow down. He gulped down two boxes of drinks and then belched.
"God Bless you."
Natasha grinned. "No problem partner. I had to feed you. If you die on me I guess I would be the chief suspect."
Harry laughed and then indicated toward the computer. "Edward Carlisle was really busy in his personal life. He had many different sexual partners. I wish you had a printer so I could show you some of the stuff he wrote to these people. I've counted..." he reached for his notebook, "six different persons to whom he sent emails in the last seven years. The very first week of his presidency and when these email address was set up he was corresponding with someone named [email protected]. He sent her a picture of his penis." Harry shuddered. "He was actually holding it in his hands and his face was visible… must have taken it with his web cam. The response to the pic must have been favorable because he and [email protected] agreed to meet at his house after a meeting he was having with the university pastor."
"Whoa," Natasha said, "was he stupid or what? All of that info stored in his school account! Not that I am complaining, because this is good for our investigation. Did he know that information transmitted through a school's computers and servers never really go away, and he did it anyway?"
Harry shrugged. "Who knows? I am trying to get a handle on his personality from the emails. What I am gleaning so far is that he had a very active sex life, and he was very interested in pornography. There are dozens of downloads of pictures of both women and men in several sexual acts in his saved files."
"Stop it," Natasha gasped. "Did you just say men?"
"Yup," Harry smirked, "seems as if Edward Carlisle swung both ways. He subscribed to a magazine called Bi Weekly. Contrarily, he also had a very intense devotional life. He sent out hundreds of mails about God and responsibility to Christian life, sometimes after sending or receiving one of his pictures."
Natasha covered her mouth in shock.
"He was even more mixed up than that," Harry said. "Hear this..."
September 5, 2002
From: Ted Bowes ([email protected])
To: Edward Carlisle ([email protected])
Subject: Sabbath Sermon
Hello Dr. Carlisle,
You have not yet confirmed your appointment as the speaker appointed for the sermon on Sabbath. As you know, the theme for the week is "Family Life God's Way or No Way." Please confirm.
Natasha who had covered her fingers over her eyes in a juvenile attempt at warding off what she was hearing asked, "So, did he preach?"
"Yup," Harry pulled up another file. "He confirmed that he would and he wrote a very good sermon. He sent it to his secretary to vet. The starting line is Psalm 127:1, Except the Lord
builds the house, they labor in vain who build it; except the Lord keeps the city, the watchman wakes but in vain."
"Hypocrite," Natasha snarled. "It's people like Carlisle that give Christians a bad name."
Harry laughed. "That's why I always say that Christians should follow Christ. I am not a regular churchgoer like you are, but I'm still not as shocked. Why? Because I know that once people decide to follow men, even the ones who sit at the head of a Christian institution, they will be disappointed.
He tut-tutted at Natasha. "Hear this. After the lovely sermon he sent this to his friend. The mail reads..."
From: Edward Carlisle ([email protected])
To: Paul Chin ([email protected])
Subject: Feeling horny are you free later?
"Disgusting!" Natasha said shuddering. "I mean he is disgusting in general, but isn't he supposed to be married? Cheating...two timing…"
"He's dead." Harry said cutting her off in mid-sentence. "What he was doesn't matter now. Who killed him is our concern, don't forget that. Don't lose perspective."
Natasha shrugged. "You are right but I am just so upset at the ease at which he could write a sermon on family life and then setup a rendezvous with a guy." She shuddered, "His poor wife."
Harry was calmly scanning through the mail. "So now we need to find out if she knew about his affairs or sexuality. If it was a secret and she found out about it she could be the one who killed him"
Natasha sighed. "The plot thickens."
Harry shook his head. "It's thickening alright, but it gets even murkier. The most recent mails are from a [email protected]. These mails aren't merely sexual; these seem to be filled with romantic one-liners. I think," he looked at Natasha, "that we need to read every single one of them and try to find a clue as to who this kellove person is, and how he, or she is tied to this case."
Natasha sighed and glanced at the clock. "It's nine. You need to get out of here by ten."
"No worries," Harry indicated his jump drive, "I saved it all. I will be doing some reading of my own on my computer tonight. Tomorrow, we meet and talk."
Natasha drummed her fingers on the bed. "Who is going to tell the Supe that his uncle was not the paragon of virtue that he thinks he is."
Harry got up and stretched. "Doesn't matter what he was when he was alive, every single human being has a right to life. Nobody has the authority to rob them of life, regardless of how bad they are."
"I am not going to go into this with you," Natasha said, "I can hear a capital punishment debate coming on and I have too much information to process now. By the way," she looked at Harry with a frown, "who is Paul Chin? The guy that Carlisle wrote"
"He was a lecturer from Bahamas." Harry said. "He left the school a couple years ago."
Natasha nodded. "I think we are probably going to need to question Mrs. Carlisle when we break cover. If I see her at the presidential ball tomorrow night there is no way I can get information from her without blowing my cover there."
"You are right," Harry said. "After I hear your feedback about the ball tomorrow night we need to interview her. I'll call the Supe and let him know that we need to interview his aunt." He grabbed his bag. "Update me tomorrow on Bancroft's son. I have to get out of here now."
Natasha nodded.
"And we need to plan our approach to Anne Carter."
"True," Natasha said vaguely. She walked Harry to the door and then locked it, leaning up on it.
For every single investigation they have ever done, it never ceased to amaze her that she could still be shocked at people's secret lives. She headed to her computer and then thought better of it. She was still trying to process that Edward Carlisle had so many secrets. She opted to lie in her bed instead; looking up at the ceiling; her mind going over all the things she heard and learned that day.
Chapter Ten
Taj got up early in the morning to jog and to better acquainted himself with the neighborhood. He stretched while covertly looking over at Anne Carter's house. He had barely gotten the time to talk to her, but wondered if Natasha and Harry were right about her—that she really was a murderer.
He shook his head and moved up the street slowly. He hadn't gotten that vibe from her; to him she seemed like an efficient secretary who had spates of neediness. Sometimes she would look at him with an overwhelming compassion in her eyes. At first, he had thought she was coming on to him, but it wasn't that—it wasn't sexual. He had only been at the school three days and already felt as if he had been there for a long time.
He couldn't believe that he had just recently met Natasha Rowe and already she was taking up some space in his mind. He hadn't felt this sense of connection to a woman so quickly before. He always distrusted anything that happened too quickly and always anticipated that it would fizzle out and die. His attraction to Natasha was like a raging fire; he was standing in its lapping glare and he was anxiously waiting for it to cool down, somewhat.
He turned at the end of his street and decided to jog in the direction of the school's sports center. Maybe he could play a game of tennis or squash, or do some sets at the gym. He glanced at his watch but could barely see the face because of the heavy morning fog; he actually had to slow down and look at it closely. It was almost six—perfect time to find someone to play with.
He ran to the sports center and was pleased to see that the gates were opened and that students were already on the courts. Music was blaring from the gym when he entered the building. He headed to the squash courts and saw that there was no one in the first room, but there was a lone player in room two. He was dressed in all black and his profile seemed vaguely familiar. Taj stiffened, it was Ryan Bancroft.
So this was how the beast exercised, he thought uncharitably and was about to move away when Bancroft looked around.
"Don't be afraid," Bancroft said. "Join me, or are you afraid that I will beat you too badly."
"I have no racket," Taj said, "completely forgot about that when I came in here."
"I have extras." Bancroft looked at him with a smirk.
Taj walked into the room fully. "I must warn you, I am out of practice." He took the racket that Bancroft handed to him and stretched his neck.
"Excuses before you get a beat down?" Bancroft smirked. "How uncompetitive."
Taj shrugged, and served first.
They played for about half an hour they were almost equally matched with Bancroft winning three out of their five games.
Bancroft sat on the bench in the corner of the building beside his towel and gazed over at Taj. "That wasn't so bad for an out of shape player."
Taj stretched and was panting like he had been running up hill. He had a burn in his lungs and was thoroughly wet with sweat. He could feel even his curls dripping with sweat.
"That was quite a workout," he sat beside Bancroft.
Bancroft handed him a small water bottle.
Taj opened it—his hands trembling a little—and started gulping it down.
"Take it easy," Bancroft said looking over at him, "you know you shouldn't gulp."
"You sound like you care," Taj panted.
Bancroft shrugged. "I have five children…I have a tendency to give commands to younger people."
"You also naturally have that tendency I bet," Taj said easily. "You know I call you a beast in my head."
Bancroft laughed.
"I also think you have no manners. I met you just yesterday and you have not said good morning to me yet."
Bancroft chuckled. "My wife, Celeste, says that all the time."
"It's disconcerting," Taj said.
"I don't like to waste words on meaningless sentiments. What would good morning do for you?" Bancroft asked curiously and wiped his face with his towel.
"I can't believe you are the interim university president at a school of higher education and asking that." Taj shook his head. "Little societal mores are learned from a person is young for a reason you know."
>
Bancroft leaned his head to one side. "I am sure they are. That's why I still use please and thank you. I am not a complete deviant. I just find the good before morning a bit too much. Why use good? Why not meet a stranger and ask Bad Morning?"
Taj chuckled. "You ponder these little things because of what...boredom?"
"No, I ponder them because I hate to be a conformist."
Taj nodded. "I see."
Bancroft leaned his head on the wall. "I exercise here every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. You are a good opponent, you can join me."
Taj looked at him his mouth agape. "But you don't like me. You think I am a young upstart who is out to take your job from you. You are investigating me, remember?"
Bancroft chuckled. "That's business."
"You are a chameleon. I wouldn't put it past you to have a 'befriend him and then nail him' strategy."
Bancroft laughed. "You are extremely good for my internal exercise Dr. Jackson. I can't recall laughing so much for a while, and you are incredibly suspicious too. I like that."
Taj frowned at Bancroft, realizing that he was a master at disarming people. What was he up to?
"Okay. Friday I will meet you here. I'll carry my own racket."
Bancroft shrugged. "See you later at the ball." He grabbed his bag and walked out.
Taj walked after him slowly.
The official time for the ball was seven o'clock. Natasha told Taj that she would meet him at his office. She didn't want him to pick her up and set tongues wagging. She didn't want anybody to be talking about her on the female dorm. Already they were looking at her suspiciously because she had Harry in her room until late. She hadn't realized how strict and uptight the rules at Mount Faith were. Going out with the gorgeous Dr. Jackson would really set tongues wagging and would probably focus the search light on her activities and might disrupt the investigation.
Therefore, she had brought her black dress to Taj's office and her stockings and her extremely high red shoes. She had worn the red shoes to her sister's wedding and could recall feeling a slight neck pain after taking them off.
Saving Face (Mount Faith Series: Book 1) Page 7
