Young Ladies of Mystery Boxed Set

by Stacy Juba

  "I don't know what to make of this," Irene said. "Who could this man be?"

  If he existed at all. Kris had to talk with Lieutenant Frank.

  But Mae had been so specific. She had known Diana, no question, and she'd used the same term as Raquel -- "mistake." If the man was real, it couldn't have been Vince or Jared. Diana hadn't dated them till later, and besides, both had dark hair.

  He was young and blond. A heartthrob, I believe you girls would call him. Kris gasped.

  Alex Thaddeus and Michael Soares fit that description.

  It couldn't be Michael. He was Cheryl's husband. He had treated Diana like a sister. He'd raised Eric.

  Wait a minute. Michael had an alibi. He'd been working at the appliance store, then gone home. The police had investigated the family as standard procedure.

  But no one had checked out Alex Thaddeus.

  Kris turned away from Irene and the Alzheimer's patients. She needed to think.

  The dream. It rushed back: a girl sprinting through the forest, escaping her pursuer. Her lean body transforming into a tree.

  Now Kris knew why that image sounded familiar. Alex Thaddeus had the painting on his wall. Daphne and Apollo.

  "Her paintings were dark for someone so young," Jared had said. "I remember she was working on sketches about a terrified young girl turning into a tree."

  Alex Thaddeus claimed Diana gave him the painting in high school, but Jared observed her with the sketches years later. Kris frowned, fishing her keys out of her purse. If he was right, then Alex might have lied.

  He may have seen Diana shortly before she was murdered.

  And he had been on campus the night she disappeared.

  "Kris? What is it?" Irene asked as an elderly man yelled a trivia answer about the 1955 World Series.

  Absorbed in her thoughts, Kris buttoned her coat. Irene slipped on a hat, and an aide let them out an alarmed door.

  "How long did Diana work at MacDougall's?" Kris asked as they walked toward her car. She hooked her arm through Irene's, guiding her across an icy patch.

  "Three years," Irene said. "Kris? Do you think this man was real?"

  Kris unlocked the car doors. She adjusted the heater, wondering what she should say, how much Irene could handle. They sat in silence.

  "Please," Irene said. "Everyone wants to protect me, but I'm Diana's mother. I lived with her."

  "This man might've been a figment of Mae's imagination," Kris said after a long pause. "But if he wasn't, then I have an idea who it could've been. I need to ask you some questions before I tell you, though."

  Irene nodded. "Okay."

  "Raquel thinks Diana fell into a depression during her last few months at the drugstore, before Vince entered the picture. She suspected it might have been over a guy. Do you recall Diana being upset?"

  "I don't know. I was used to her mood swings. Sometimes she'd think of her father, and her grief would come pouring back. I guess she did seem more withdrawn than usual."

  "Is it possible she was dating someone without your knowledge? Or that someone may have been harassing her?"

  "I ... I suppose so. Diana worked nights, and I worked days, so we only saw each other for a quick dinner. On weekends, she went out with Raquel."

  "Did Diana ever explain why she took the job at Rossi's?" Kris asked. "I'm sure you tried to talk her out of it."

  Irene shuddered and tucked her hat around her clipped gray tufts. She looked shrunken in her bulky coat, a waif dwarfed in layers of wool. Kris glanced toward the nursing home with its white doilies and red construction paper hearts taped to the windows. Irene was as vulnerable as the patients behind those alarmed doors.

  "Diana insisted she wanted to be with Raquel and kids her own age," Irene said. "She didn’t have much in common with the employees at MacDougalls'. Please tell me what you know. I always assumed Jared killed her, but you're asking about things that happened before Jared."

  Kris leaned against the headrest and decided to just blurt it out. "It’s possible that Diana and her high school teacher, Alex Thaddeus, were romantically involved while she was his student."

  "What?"

  Kris told her about Raquel’s revelation, the painting and how Alex had been at Fremont State the night Diana was killed.

  "And he was a blond heartthrob, which matches Mae's description," she said. "But I don't understand why he'd kill her. Unless Diana threatened to tell people he'd seduced her."

  Irene pressed a hand against her head, the heater blowing warm air in her face. "I can't imagine Diana doing something like that. Taking up with a teacher? While she was a student?"

  "Maybe she was devastated by her father's death and needed someone to help her through the grief."

  Pink spots flushed Irene's cheeks. "He took advantage of her! Her own teacher? He came to the funeral, saying how sorry he was for my loss. My little girl ..."

  Maybe Kris shouldn't have told her. "Irene, it's just speculation. It might not have happened."

  "Was she ashamed about the affair? If she had trusted me with the truth, would she be alive?"

  "Even if there was something between her and Alex, even if he was Mae's mystery man, that doesn't mean he killed her. We just found out yesterday that Vince Rossi's alibi fell apart. He had at least two hours when he was alone. And there's still Jared and those phone calls."

  The phone calls. Funny, how Diana had been stalked over the phone, and now Kris was dealing with the same problem.

  She checked the clock. Eric would finish band practice soon, and then she had to call Lieutenant Frank.

  "Come on, Irene, let's pick up Eric and get some coffee. He and I will figure out what to do next."

  "I'm sorry. I'm glad you told me everything, I ... I really am."

  Kris held Irene while she sobbed.

  ***

  A little while later, Kris and Eric ushered his grandmother into the Soares’ house. Cheryl typed on her laptop at the kitchen table. She looked up, her finger poised on the keyboard. "Kris. I'm so sorry. Eric told me you lost your job over all this. Is there anything I can do?"

  Irene pivoted, her eyes glassy. "You lost your job? Why didn't anyone tell me? Oh, Kris."

  "I didn't like my editor anyway," Kris said. "Don't worry."

  "But what will you do?"

  She forced lightness into her voice. "I'll have time off for a change. I haven't had a break in ages."

  Irene groped into her bulky pocketbook. "You need money. I should pay you for your hard work."

  Kris laid a restraining hand on Irene's arm. "Don't be silly."

  "Come on, Gram, why don't you watch TV while Kris and I call Lieutenant Frank?" Eric said. "Kris will be on her feet again in no time. I'll make sure of it."

  "It's nice you kids are hitting it off," Irene murmured. "I'm sure Diana would've been pleased."

  "Let's go in the other room, Mom. My work can wait." Cheryl touched Kris's shoulder. "We'll talk later, okay? Maybe I can help you find another job. Lots of writers and editors come into the bookstore."

  "Thank you," Kris said. "I appreciate it."

  Cheryl smiled at her son. "Take care of her."

  Two minutes later, Kris had Lieutenant Frank on the line. Eric shared the receiver.

  "Here's what you do," the lieutenant said. "Next time, press *57 and it'll forward a record to the phone company. If they get two or three traces to the same number, we'll look into it. It's pretty successful, but sometimes a cell phone screws it up."

  "I'll do that. There's also something else ..." She told him about Mae Schaffer's allegation.

  Lieutenant Frank laughed. "Mae Schaffer? I didn't know the old lady was still kicking. Let me tell you something about Mae Schaffer. She was as paranoid as hell, and lonely to boot. She must've called us 200 times. Whenever we sent officers over, she'd stuff them with coffee cake."

  "Do you remember her calling about Diana?" Kris asked.

  "After 200 times, they all blur together."

 
"If she did call about the murder, would you have investigated?"

  "We would've checked it out, but given the source, we would've taken it with a grain of salt."

  Eric edged the phone closer to his ear. "Look, Lieutenant, she has Alzheimer's Disease, so this could be her imagination. But if she did report this twenty-five years ago, it might be worth checking into again. Maybe 200 of her calls were bull, but what if this was the one that had something to it?"

  "I think it's a waste of time, but I'll look in the case book and get back to you."

  Kris disconnected and asked, "Why do I get the feeling he doesn't take us seriously?"

  "I get the same feeling," Eric said. "I guess it's time to pay another visit to the professor."

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  25 Years Ago Today

  For the first time, the Fremont 4-H will have its own horsemanship group.

  Kris climbed the creaking steps to the Fremont State College history department, hoping they caught Alex Thaddeus before he left for the weekend. Eric released a deep sigh at her heels and she shot him a worried look. He'd been quiet on the ride over, reminding her of the drive to Hyde Park.

  Impulsively, Kris kissed his cheek. "If he's there, don't put him on defense right away. We've got to surprise him."

  "It ticks me off that he might have gotten away with it all these years," Eric said. "He wasn't even a suspect."

  "We don't know if it was him."

  "If he murdered Diana, I'll kill him." Eric patted Kris's hand, grabbed the railing and pushed past her. She stared at the back of his leather jacket, her stomach nose-diving.

  They found the door to Alex's office ajar. "Hi," she said with false cheeriness. "It's me again."

  Alex smiled, but not the relaxed half-grin from before. His lips pressed into a thin line as he rocked forward in his swivel chair. "Kris, isn't it? I didn't expect to see you again."

  Kris stepped into his office. His glance traveled past her to Eric. "This is Eric Soares," she said. "Diana's nephew."

  Alex's smile turned into a slight frown. He closed a leather-bound book and ran his finger down the cracked spine. "Pleasure to meet you," he told Eric, then returned his attention to Kris. "I saw the newspaper article. I didn't realize you'd be back."

  "We had a few more questions," she said.

  "I'm afraid I can't be much help. I've told you everything I could remember."

  "You sure about that?" Eric asked. "Maybe you should think again."

  "I don't know what you mean." The craggy lines etching Alex's face deepened. He shuffled the neat piles of papers on his desk.

  Kris pointed toward the framed canvas in the corner. "You told me Diana gave you that painting in high school. I have it on good authority that she didn't do that scene until later. Not long before she died."

  "What are you implying?" Alex rustled papers.

  "That you saw Diana after she graduated, even though you claimed you hadn't."

  Long silence. Alex dropped his arms to his sides. Kris heard all the sounds in the old building: water surging through heating pipes, floorboards squeaking as secretaries left their desks, the pattering of her own heart.

  Maybe she was wrong. It wasn’t impossible that Diana worked on the same scene in high school and later when she knew Jared. It could be coincidence ... or the key to the whole puzzle.

  "It's a mystery to me," Alex said.

  "Maybe you can clear this up," Eric said. "We understand you and Diana had an affair."

  "That's ridiculous."

  "Raquel D'Angelo told us Diana confided in her. She's willing to talk to the police. Another of your former students, Yvonne Harper, seems convinced also." Eric fastened Alex with his steady gaze. "You can tell us, or the cops. Either way, it's coming out."

  "I don't know what you're talking about. This is insane."

  Eric motioned to Kris. "Let's call the lieutenant."

  Alex stilled except for his rapidly blinking eyes. In the deep hazel pools flecked with gold, desperation shimmered. "Please, wait. This is a private matter. That's why I denied it. I assure you, this situation is not relevant to Diana's death."

  "Why don't you let us decide?" Eric asked.

  "How will the information be used? In another newspaper story? Would you ruin my career?"

  "If you didn't kill Diana, then the information won't go past these walls," Kris said.

  "But if you don't talk, you'll get a visit from the police," Eric said.

  Alex nodded. "I was twenty-three years old. I met Diana my first year teaching. She had a crush on me, as a lot of girls did. I'm not being conceited. Most girls are intrigued by a young, single teacher.

  "After her father died, Diana was a different person. I wanted to draw her out, so I encouraged Diana with her art. She borrowed my mythology books and brought in her sketches. Then she asked if she could come see my grandparents' pictures from Greece. A warning bell went off in my mind, but I was flattered that I was the only one who put a smile on her face."

  "So you let her come over," Kris said.

  "Several times. We kept it secret, and Diana told her mother she was out with friends. Even though it was innocent, it wouldn't look good if people knew a teacher and student were close. Then Diana said she was in love with me.

  "If I told you it came as a shock, I'd be lying. I knew it was wrong, but we slept together. Then I got nervous about the risk, and told Diana we had to end it. If people found out, my career would be over."

  Eric folded his arms. "That's for sure."

  "Diana asked if we could pick up our relationship after she graduated, but I was paranoid what people would say. Think what you will of me, but she was the only student whom I’ve ever gotten involved with romantically."

  "Tell us about the painting," Kris said. "Did you see her again?"

  "A few weeks before she was murdered, I ran into her in a coffee shop. I didn't know whether to say hello, or get out of there as fast as I could. For the rest of her senior year, Diana had ignored me. She had even dropped out of the History Club."

  "But she included you in her yearbook, didn't she?" Kris asked. "Aren't you Mr. T?"

  "The kids do that months in advance. I'm sure it was too late to change what she'd written." Alex rubbed his eyes. He seemed older than on her last visit, the weariness visible in his slumped shoulders. "At the coffee shop, Diana came right over. She looked terrible, even thinner than she was in high school, but she was happy to see me. I was getting married later that year, and she congratulated me. That was it."

  "And the painting?"

  "She left it on my doorstep with a note that said to consider it an engagement present. I never had the opportunity to thank her. When you noticed it on the wall, it seemed simpler to say she'd given it to me earlier." Alex turned to Eric. "Until Diana walked out of the coffee shop, I hadn't realized how guilty I'd felt. That's why I still have her gift on my wall. I'll always have a special place for her in my heart."

  A faint nagging prickled in the back of Kris's mind. Irene had told her that Diana's last painting was missing. Alex received this one shortly before she died.

  "What about MacDougall's Pharmacy?" Eric asked. "Why did you harass her there?"

  "I did no such thing."

  "Someone matching your description was seen giving her a hard time."

  Alex shook his head. "I never went to that pharmacy. I told you, I only saw her in the coffee shop."

  "Are you sure you didn't run into her when you were taking that education class at Fremont State?" Eric persisted. "You didn't notice her dropping off her boyfriend at his apartment, or driving by the school?"

  "No. Where are you getting this?"

  "Maybe you didn't want Diana to damage your reputation. How do we know there weren't other girls?"

  "How do you know Diana didn't have other affairs? She told me another man had hurt her far worse than I did. Maybe you should find out who she was talking about." Sunlight shone through the window, catching Alex's
blond hair, making him look more like a Greek god than ever.

  Greek god. Kris moved closer to the painting.

  Alex had said that the scene depicted Apollo and Daphne, but this girl clung to a silver bow between her leafy fingers. A bow, symbol of the Roman goddess, Diana.

  It wasn't Daphne after all.

  A dozen thoughts swam in Kris's mind, skimming past each other in a dark ocean. She grasped onto the windowsill, panic swelling through her chest.

  Five minutes later, Kris strode toward the parking lot, Eric hurrying to keep pace. He caught up and touched her hand. She quickened her steps, forcing him to let go. They passed a dormitory with ivy lacing the red brick and icicles jutting from the rain gutter.

  "What's wrong?" Eric asked. "Why did you rush out?"

  "You were getting hostile," she said, her voice hollow. "We don't know if Alex killed Diana."

  "Even if he didn't, he broke every code of ethics. It makes me sick to think of him taking advantage of an impressionable girl. Teachers are supposed to be role models. I don't care what Thaddeus says, Diana wasn't the last. I feel like punching him."

  "I'm sure he wouldn't mind taking a swing at you, either."

  Eric didn't hold her hand for the rest of the walk.

  They drove to Kris's apartment in silence. Eric parked outside the recessed front entrance of her building. "You’re really upset because I was too rough on the guy?"

  Kris closed her eyes. "Sorry. I'm just frustrated. I don't know what to think."

  "How about we get dinner and forget about it?"

  "I'm tired. I want to lie down."

  Eric hesitated, and pecked her cheek. "Okay. Sure you're all right?"

  She unfastened her seatbelt. "I'm fine. Just sleepy."

  "I'll call you later and see how you're doing."

  As he pulled away from the curb, Kris yearned to race after him and stop the car.

  But she couldn't.

  Lieutenant Frank had left a message on the answering machine. Kris listened to his words in the kitchen. "I went back through the old records. Mae Schaffer did call us about a guy bothering Diana. The notes say we talked to employees, and no one saw anything. We let it go because it was a dead end. I'm sure it still is, but call me if you have questions."