“Yeah, I could. He totally ruined my life.”
“You ruined it the day you first took drugs. You blew your degree at Hilliard.”
R.J. clamped his arms across his chest and stared off into the middle distance. “Don’t I know it! Not a day goes by when I don’t kick myself. But I’m clean now, six months. I even volunteer in a mentor program teaching kids about the risks of drugs. Whatever; I didn’t kill Dix Clark.”
Rex glanced over the barrier. “You work in construction. You’d know all about air ducts.”
“If I’m gonna get framed again for something I never did, I’d rather end it now.” R.J. chucked his cigarette butt on the ground. “I haven’t got any money left for a defense. And that bitch never even stood by me.”
Before Rex could understand what was happening, R.J. swung open the gate and sprinted across the job site. Enclosed in a construction elevator, he rose up the glass façade of the building.
“Where’s he going?” Rex asked the super who stopped him as he chased after the boy.
“To the top. What did you say to him?”
“He’s been implicated in a murder.”
“Christ, as if that kid hasn’t been through enough trouble already.” The super tilted back his head and followed the elevator’s progress to the dizzying bronze pinnacle of the skyscraper. He got on his radio. “Pete, R.J.’s on your floor. He may be suicidal. Don’t approach. I’m comin’ up.”
“I’m coming with you,” Rex said.
“Grab a hat from the trailer.”
Rex found one on a hook inside the door and joined the super who led him around the building to a second elevator.
“You should be wearing a harness,” the supervisor said, hesitating as they stepped onto the platform. At close quarters, he reeked of Marlboroughs.
“No time. Beam me up, Scotty.”
The super set the hydraulic lift in motion. “Name’s Tony,” he said thrusting a calloused hand into Rex’s. “Hope you’re not scared of heights. That hat’s not gonna do nothin’ for you if you fall from the sixtieth floor.”
Rex was not prone to acrophobia, but he had never ridden in an outdoor elevator. As a precaution, he decided not to look down. “Do you test employees for drugs?” he asked, trying to gauge R.J.’s state of mind.
“It’s mandatory at LTB.”
Perhaps R.J. was telling the truth about being clean. The floors sped down to meet them, reflecting the mesh cage off the bronze panes. Toward the summit, Rex’s ears popped. He did not venture a peek until he reached the top. From here the site looked like a sandbox littered with die-cast trucks and blocks of Lego. He fought down a reeling sense of nausea.
Tony let him out of the elevator and, clearing the other men off the roof and construction platform, led Rex across the concrete floor latticed with naked steel girders. The breeze, barely noticeable before, flattened Rex’s shirt against his torso. R.J., standing perfectly still, was staring over the edge. He had removed his hard hat, and his dark hair blew about his forehead. Rex could not look at him without seeing the tops of surrounding towers spiking the skyline. If something happened to R.J., he would never forgive himself, especially if the boy was innocent.
“Come away from there, R.J.,” he called. “I just want to talk to you.”
“What’s the point?” A gust buffeted the boy and he took a step to steady himself. Another step and he would go over the low rail and fall sixty floors. “I should have done this before and saved my parents the money for my defense. What good did it do?”
“I want to see justice is done.”
Behind Rex, Tony murmured into his radio. “Call the cops. No sirens or lights.”
“Just think what this would do to your parents,” Rex reasoned with R.J. “One boy is already dead.”
“I didn’t kill him! I didn’t!” R.J. stepped over the rail.
Rex’s stomach completed a somersault. “I believe you! Klepto gave me the button.”
“Should have known!” the boy cried out, looking back in despair. “But I could prove it’s not mine.”
“Come over here and tell me about it.”
R.J. turned away and peered over the brink. This was the second where, in the recklessness of youth, he could decide to end his life and make a dramatic, poignant, and ultimately futile statement. Rex sprang forward just as the boy let himself fall head first in slow motion. Adrenalin pumped through his veins.
Grabbing him around the waist with one arm, Rex hooked a vertical beam with the other. The impact of R.J.’s weight pulled him forward, almost wrenching both arms from their sockets. A telescopic view of asphalt, cars and tree tops swam before his eyes before he managed to yank R.J. away from the edge, bringing him keeling on top of him as he hit concrete.
Tony pulled R.J. to his feet and stood gripping him by the shoulders. Rex lay for a moment staring at the sky. He had a fleeting notion that the world had gone mad. His heart reverberated through his body while concentric waves of pain shot through his elbow.
A construction worker helped him up. “I just saw the cops pull into the site,” he told Tony.
A spasm of terror crossed R.J.’s face.
“Don’t worry,” Tony said. “We won’t say nothing about this. Let’s get off of this building. I got a first-aid kit in the trailer,” he told Rex.
A cop approached them when they reached ground level.
“What’s up, Tony?”
“Trailer got broke into again. Don’t think anything went missing, but they jimmied the lock.”
“Who’s this?” the cop asked, looking at Rex.
“A building inspector. He fell and scraped his arm pretty bad. Lemme see to it first. Come with us,” Tony instructed R.J., prodding Rex up the steps to the trailer.
They removed their hats and dumped them on the desk. Stale smoke hung in the stuffy air. Tony rummaged among a pile of rolled-up plans on a shelf and extracted a white plastic box marked with a red cross. He handed Rex a wad of cotton wool doused with hydrogen peroxide and a large Band-Aid.
“You can use that room back there if you guys need to talk. Here, take this.” Tony gave R.J. a Thermos flask from off the desk. “It’ll do you good. And take the rest of the day off. You wanna talk, call. I got to see to the cop and make a report on the break-in.”
Rex, holding the wad to his bleeding elbow, made his way past the water cooler into a closed-off room equipped with a small desk and two chairs. He sat down and stuck the Band-Aid on his arm while R.J. took a seat and twisted off the lid to the scuffed flask. An aroma of sweetened coffee rose into the air. R.J. filled the cup and pushed the rest toward Rex, who took a swig straight from the Thermos. Though no longer burning hot, it tasted fresh and strong, much better than the coffee he had been served at the airport restaurant that morning.
“Tony’s a good guy,” R.J. remarked, speaking for the first time since his brush with death.
“Aye. He seems to think mighty highly of you too. You gave us quite a turn.”
“You saved my life. That was a crazy thing you did, man. You could’ve gone over with me.”
“I wouldna’ve let that happen. I have a strong sense of self-preservation.”
R.J. ran a hand through his dark hair. “I can’t explain what happened. All the time I was riding to the top, I thought I would never do it when it came right down to it. And then when I looked over, it all seemed so simple.”
“I would never have forgiven myself if you’d gone over.”
R.J. shrugged in response.
“How do you feel now?”
“Light-headed, I guess. Like nothing really matters, except that I can feel every pulse in my body. The coffee tastes better than anything I ever had before.”
Rex guessed R.J. was feeling an adrenalin rush. As for himself, he was shaking. “My ex-girlfriend tried to commit suicide on Tuesday,” he found himself confiding.
“You should carry a government health warning. Seems like people all around you are trying t
o self-destruct.”
Rex smiled ruefully. “The doctor said it wasna a serious attempt, but still … It’s a terrible thing to think about.”
“I was thinking about someone in that moment before I let myself go. I remember saying to myself, ‘Now she’ll be sorry.’ She could have saved me from having to go to court. All she had to do was go to the police and show them my hoodie, and tell them she had it all along.”
“Why didn’t she? Who is she?”
R.J. shook his head. “I can’t tell you—I promised I’d never tell.”
“And when did you make this promise?”
“When we were in my bed the first time. Just lying there whispering in the dark.” R.J.’s voice caught in his throat. “I would have done anything for her.”
“Did she feel the same way? If she did, why didn’t she go to the police? Why didn’t she try to protect you?”
R.J. hunched over the table. “Maybe she thought I’d never be convicted. Then, when I was expelled, she probably thought it was too late to come forward. I don’t know if she ever spoke to the dean because by then she had stopped taking my calls.”
“Would she have had any authority with him?”
“Probably not. Cormack didn’t. And I know he tried.”
“I could talk to the dean.”
“The faculty would never admit to making a mistake. And Binkley would just argue I was using, which is against university policy.”
“Can they actually prove you were using? My guess is they don’t have much of a case, since the video failed to incriminate you.”
“A couple of students testified that they saw me snort coke. I have no money for college now anyway. It’ll take me years to pay off my defense.”
Rex leaned forward. “Be that as it may, I need to be absolutely convinced of your innocence in Dixon’s murder. You have to tell me about the button if it absolves you.”
R.J. sat back in his chair. “I can’t.”
“Then I don’t know how I can help you.” Rex reached into his pocket and slid one of his business cards across the desk. “Here’s my cell number. I’ll be in town until tomorrow.” He stood up and, on his way to the door, stopped by R.J.’s chair. He gave his shoulder a paternal squeeze, sighed heavily and left.
Tony was talking to the cop at the foot of the trailer steps. He escorted Rex to the gate. “Is he okay?”
“He’s not very communicative.”
“I’ll keep an eye on him.”
Rex took out his cell phone and called Campbell to tell him to meet him at the car.
“Can’t we get lunch first?”
“Don’t you have a lecture?”
“Not until two. How did it go with R.J.?”
“It was hair-raising. I’ll tell you all about it, but I need to get to the campus right away.” Rex remembered to look both ways before crossing the street. Sometimes he forgot that traffic moved in the opposite direction from home. He didn’t want to have survived a close call on a skyscraper just to be hit by a car.
“There’s someone I need to see immediately,” he told Campbell over the phone. “Could be downright embarrassing if I’m wrong, but I have to give it a shot.”
Rex stopped by the Student Health Center where a nurse cleaned the cut on his elbow and applied a fresh dressing. By the time he reached the Marine Science Department, the pain in his arm had subsided to a throb. Students were spilling out of the building.
“Where can I find Professor Johnson?” he asked a coed.
“We just came out of her class. She’s in the wet lab.”
Rex entered a classroom set up with long work benches. A marker board covered most of the back wall. Other walls displayed fish mounts and enlarged checks granted by various organizations for marine research. But no sign of Ms. Johnson.
An adjoining lab contained a central fish tank. Through the open door, Rex glimpsed a collection of aquaria and microscopes lining the wall counters. The young assistant professor came out wearing a tight, ribbed sweater beneath her lab coat, her honey blond hair clasped in a ponytail. She could not be older than twenty-six.
“Hi,” she said, clearly surprised to see him.
“We ran into each other yesterday in the parking lot,” Rex reminded her, in case she had forgotten. “But we were not formally introduced.” Cormack, the math professor, had all but pushed her into the car.
“You’re Campbell’s father. Nice kid. He writes beautiful reports. I guess British schools do a better job at teaching English.”
“I’m afraid I’m not here to discuss Campbell’s progress, although, naturally, I am always interested to hear how he’s getting on. What I’ve come to discuss has nothing directly to do with my son.”
Ms. Johnson leaned back against a workbench, hands gripping the edge, and held him in her blue gaze. She bore a passing resemblance to a young Brigitte Bardot. He hoped his hunch about her was right, otherwise he would merit a slap in the face.
“I’ve come about R.J. Wylie.”
She blushed and looked away.
“Look, I’m not here to cause trouble. Whatever happened between you and R.J. is none of my business, except in-so-far as it relates to my investigation into Dixon Clark’s death.”
She started to say something, but stopped.
Rex stuck his hands into his pockets and paced between the benches, talking calmly as though delivering a lecture. “You borrowed his hoodie. It was cold that late October night or early morning when you crept out of the dorm. When he was arrested, the garment was still in your possession, so he could not prove that his jacket wasn’t exactly the same as the one in the video. All the time he was in custody, he kept quiet because he didn’t want to expose you and subject you to censure by the university. Am I on the right track so far?”
The young woman nodded, a troubled expression on her face. “I was a coward. Does Al know?”
“Cormack? Not through me. And not through R.J. That lad has a misplaced sense of loyalty, if you’ll forgive me for saying so. He threw himself off a rather tall building this morning.”
Bethany Johnson gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.
“He’s all right physically. I caught him just in time. But I hope that gives you some idea of the pressure he’s been under. He’s working a dangerous construction job.” Rex looked around the classroom. “He gave up his degree for you. If you had come forward at the beginning, the outcome might have been different.”
He didn’t care if he was being harsh on her. She made no effort to deny any of it, and here she was sitting pretty while her distraught young ex-lover had dangled over the side of a skyscraper.
“I was paying off student loans and living back at home. My parents would never have approved of the relationship,” she said in her defense. “Then, when R.J. was arrested, I couldn’t risk visiting him in jail and compromising my position.”
Which compromising position in particular? Rex asked himself. A Kama Sutra one?
“He wasn’t one of my students,” she went on hurriedly, in response to his raised eyebrow. “We met off campus at a concert. At around the time he was arrested, I had started seeing Al Cormack.”
“You didn’t tell him about your affair?” Obviously. Professor Cormack was all about ethics.
“No. He was rooting for R.J. and fighting the university to get him re-admitted. I couldn’t tell him.”
I see trouble in paradise, Rex predicted, wondering if Cormack would waive his ethics in Ms. Johnson’s case. She really was quite lovely.
“Someone was spiteful enough to post a compromising picture of you on StudentSpace.com.” Rex felt quite spiteful himself at this point.
“Like that’s my body,” she scoffed. “The model is at least a double D. And I don’t have a tattoo on my ankle.”
“I think someone knew about your affair with R.J. and wanted to get back at you without betraying R.J.’s confidence.”
R.J. was sharing a room with Justin in his second year. It would be
very surprising if Justin didn’t know about Ms. Johnson. She was quite a trophy. Most boys wouldn’t be able to resist boasting about her.
“Who knew about it?” she demanded.
“I have my suspicions, but that’s all they are at this point, and I don’t want to add to the rumour mill.”
“Al and I have been talking about getting married.”
“In my frank opinion, you should lay it all out on the table, Professor. The truth has a way of coming out.” He had been caught out over Moira, even though he’d had nothing to hide. Helen had taken a different view of the matter. “If Mr. Cormack finds out, the consequences will be worse. And do you really want to live with the worry of what someone might say or what might appear on the Internet?”
Bethany Johnson looked at her hands. Was that an engagement ring on her finger? “I can run back to my parents’ house and get the hoodie,” she mumbled.
“It’s a bit late now,” Rex said, then reconsidered. “Aye, why not?”
“Campbell has a lab this afternoon. I could give it to him.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s not what you think,” she said. “I know there are all these cases in the media about female teachers preying on their students, but R.J. was nineteen and very mature for his age.”
Rex gave a non-committal nod and left the lab, glad to be out of Bethany Johnson’s presence, but probably not as glad as she was to get rid of him.
If R.J. had not murdered Dixon Clark, he wondered feverishly, then who had? Reviewing his list of original suspects, he made straight for Astra Knowles’ office.
She was standing by a filing cabinet and sighed when she saw him. “Don’ you ever quit, Mr. Graves? Who you looking for now?”
“Klepto.”
“Who?”
“Ty Clapham. Know him?”
“I sure do. That kid is one of our brightest stars. His SAT scores were off the chart. He could have gone to an ivy league college, but he got a full scholarship at Hilliard.”
“I need his domicile address.”
“I’d rather give you his class schedule. Then you could meet him at his lecture hall. He’s a psych major.” She sat down at her computer and folded her hands on the desk.
Phi Beta Murder Page 12
