Mistaken Identity Crisis: Death On The Cable Car (Braxton Campus Mysteries Book 4)

by James J Cudney

  Quint had mentioned he hoped to get a piece of ownership in the construction business, but based on what Helena had said, Nicky wanted to run his own company. “Were they still friends?”

  Helena wasn't sure, offering little explanation whether Quint and Nicky had communicated recently. “A lot of people from our little group have been coming and going lately. Like your brother.”

  I'd hoped she wouldn't reveal Gabriel was part of the illustrious octet. I knew he and Helena had attended Braxton together during their freshman and sophomore years, but while Gabriel had left town, Helena had remained here to torture me upon my triumphant return. Knowing Connor wasn't going to publicize any news indicating Quint might've been murdered, I'd have to be careful when posing any questions to determine potential or viable suspects. Perhaps I was jumping the gun and declaring it a murder too soon, but it wouldn't hurt to ask a few innocent ones. “Who else was involved in the—”

  As two shadows approached us, Helena said, “Looks like Emma is done with Miss O'Malley.”

  Emma had a productive meeting with her new teacher and was excited to hang around for the remainder of the afternoon. I spent a few minutes digesting the various activities and subjects Miss O'Malley would be teaching, then headed back to Braxton to get some work done. Learning Helena would be with Emma was both a comfort and a worry, but I trusted her to take care of my daughter. Without a way to find out what else Helena knew about Quint, I gave up and left Woodland Warriors. I'd call Helena later to ascertain more details about their group of college friends, once I engineered an opportunity to pressure Connor into throwing me a few scraps of information about Quint's death.

  While I didn't believe Gabriel had anything to do with the jewelry thefts, something suspicious had been encapsulating his recent return. Between the repeating robberies aligning with his absences from Braxton, the strange calla lilies and ruby on the floor of the car, and Quint's likely murder, the intertwining mysteries had become exceedingly fascinating and yanked me into their clutches. Truthfully, I wasn't yet certain the ruby in the cable car had a connection to the jewelry thefts. It might've just loosened from a ring Quint had been wearing when he fell to the floor.

  Remembering how victims often knew their murderers, I considered whether the jogger wearing the sandalwood cologne who'd retrieved the gloves was associated with Quint's death. It would depend upon confirming the presence of fingerprints. If Quint had been dead for six hours, the jogger was more likely a random passerby. Just who was in the group of eight, and why did I have a tough time avoiding trouble? I couldn't help myself lately. I'd found the dead bodies and was inclined to punish the ruthless monster who'd cut someone's life too short. Some naysayers around me called it a sickness. I preferred to categorize it as generously doing my civic duty.

  After arriving back at my office on the Braxton campus, I attempted to reach Gabriel who'd been ignoring me for two days now. I still couldn't leave a voicemail and had to assume he was up to no good. I decided to text one more time, knowing if he didn't respond, I'd sic Nana D on him.

  Me: Are you dead? Have you left town again? Talk to me, or I'll break out the big guns.

  Gabriel: Get a life. I've just been busy working. I'll check in over the weekend. Promise.

  Me: Need to talk to you about several things, including Quint Crawford. Don't play games with me.

  Gabriel: I'm not, seriously. I heard about his death. Life is too short. Maybe I'll see you on campus.

  Several messages later, Gabriel still refused to respond. If he wanted to be evasive, I'd confront him when he wasn't expecting it. He'd be working at Cambridge Hall of Science for tomorrow's next public flower show. I could surprise him before my afternoon class. Get ready, brother. I'm on the trail, and you are being hunted down by an ultra-determined, intelligent wolf in sheep's clothing.

  The rest of the afternoon focused on planning my upcoming classes and reading as many news articles as I could on previous and current jewelry thefts. I'd learned several interesting facts to review with Nana D, Connor, and April, but I wasn't certain they'd be able to answer my open questions. If they couldn't, or wouldn't, I'd consider going directly to the main sources. Lara Bouvier had been intimately involved in tracing the commonalities between all the robberies, but even she'd never postulated on potential suspects in her public news segments. Perhaps I'd convince her to share her private theories with me. At first, I just wanted to prove Gabriel wasn't involved, but now, with Quint's murder conceivably linked to them, I worried for a variety of additional reasons.

  After Emma arrived at the bus stop, I carted her to gymnastics practice where she impressed me with her agility and strength. I demonstrated my excessive dose of pride to the other parents of less athletically inclined children, then we met Eleanor at the Pick-Me-Up Diner for dinner. While we shared a luscious dessert—Emma wasn't a huge fan of sweets, so I suppose I should confess to having eaten a majority of it—an unlikely pair discretely snuck into the eatery and hunkered down in a corner booth.

  I racked my brain to conjure a legitimate reason for interrupting their meal, but nothing came to mind. I also didn't relish the idea of dealing with the wrath of a man who'd lost the election to Nana D. Marcus Stanton and Imogene Grey might not benefit from my wickedly delightful presence this evening, but I'd certainly ask Nana D what she thought of that duo when I visited her the following morning. As far as I understood, Krissy and Imogene disliked one another, and Imogene's fiancé, Paul, was taking over the role of town councilman from Marcus. There was something nefarious going on, and if it had anything to do with the jewelry thefts or Quint Crawford's death, April needed to know post haste.

  Chapter 5

  When I woke up the next morning, my body demanded exercise. I'd consumed too many desserts the previous week, and it always came back to haunt me. Once Emma was safely on the bus to camp, I changed into my running clothes and swung by Nana D's for a brief catch up. A few days remained before her official start as the new mayor of Wharton County. We'd been working on her speech whenever we found free time, but it wasn't complete. Nana D wanted to lay out a three-month plan on what citizens could expect, and she insisted on providing target metrics and deliverables that would be impossible even for an experienced politician. My gentle warning hadn't dissuaded her, suggesting I'd need to try harder. It wasn't that I didn't believe in her ability to get the job done, but without having a deeper background in county government, she might set herself up for a tumble way too soon.

  Nana D was sitting at the dining table when I popped by and opened the front door. She waved me in and pointed to a chair. “Have you heard from Gabriel? That nincompoop won't return my calls.”

  “At least I'm not the only one he's ghosting.” I took a seat across from her at Grandpop's custom-made table, tracing my fingers along the burnt scalloped edges he'd spent hours perfecting. I missed him more than I'd realized the last few years.

  “What kinda cockamamie word is ghosting?” Nana D suspiciously looked up from whatever she'd been scribbling on a notepad.

  “It usually refers to when someone stops returning messages after giving you some sort of indication that they were interested in—” I began to say, but Nana D twirled her finger in the air a few times to let me know I was taking too long to explain its meaning. “Basically, ignoring you.”

  “Why say something in thirty words when you can say it in two, brilliant one? Wasn't that part of your bachelor's degree? Master's? Doctorate? You've been in school so long, you must know everything by now.” Nana D pushed a steno pad across the table. “Please weigh in. I think I've nailed it.”

  I knew better than to defend myself or take her bait. Yes, brevity was important, but sometimes an elaborate way of saying something provided context and tone. Some people struggled to understand that approach and preferred to be exceedingly direct in their feedback. “Sure, give me a minute.” When I finished, I gave her a high-five. “Perfect. Looks like you came around to my way of thinkin
g with—”

  “Can it. We're done. You don't need to analyze who contributed which parts. Now, what about Gabriel?” she said, pouring herself another cup of tea.

  “Well, he finally responded to me last night. I told him I needed to talk about Quint Crawford, but he ignored me and said he'd see me on campus. I might show up at his lab this afternoon.” Gabriel had only been back for a couple of months, but he must've known by now that no one in our family walked away without paying the price. When an escapee finally returned to the zoo, the inmate was subjected to scrutiny until every last precious metal bar was soldered back onto the cage.

  “Poor Bertha, she's beside herself with grief over her boy's death. She asked me to stick around after the funeral service to talk. She specifically requested you to be there too.” Nana D sipped her tea and placed her speech in a folder on the table. She was all jazzed up in a navy-blue pantsuit with a white silk blouse that had a fluffy bow tied across her chest. Her hair was braided and wrapped around the top of her head, and she sported a pair of old-fashioned spectacles strategically placed on the bridge of her nose. She rarely donned them in public, but her eyesight had gotten worse lately, and even she couldn't deny it. Oh, the anguish that would be thrust upon me if I mentioned anything about the cheaters.

  “I hardly knew Quint. We only met ten days ago on campus.” What did she need from me? I was still trying to understand why Quint had never told me he'd been friends with my brother years ago.

  “I guess we'll find out. My bones have been aching whenever I think about that ruby you saw in the cable car near Quint's body. I fear there's a connection between his death and the missing jewelry. Maybe he discovered the thief's identity and confronted him in the cable car. Or perhaps—”

  “Or perhaps it's just arthritis?” After she flicked my ear, I conceded to her way of thinking and told her about the dinner between Imogene and Marcus. “I agree with you. Helena and Gabriel should be able to tell us whom Quint had been closest to. They might shed some light on his activities throughout the last few weeks. That's where I'll dig for clues about the contractor's untimely death.”

  “Maybe Marcus was supposed to meet both Paul and Imogene. Could Paul have shown up after you left, to discuss the transition of the town councilman role?”

  “I suppose. Add that to your list when you talk to Paul later,” I jokingly directed.

  “Yes, master. Did you find out from Imogene if the bandit left another calla lily again this time?”

  I considered Nana D's old-fashioned expression carefully, but nothing sparked other than reminding her no one had said the word bandit post last century. Then, I remembered the black calla lilies in the cable car next to Quint. “Wanna explain what you meant about the flower being at Imogene's place? Is the calla lily some sort of ironic calling card among thieves that I'm unaware of?”

  “How would I know? All I'm saying is that in each place where he'd absconded with the goods, the perp left a single black calla lily. Didn't I tell you that the other day?”

  “No, you conveniently left out that part in our rush to discuss all the jewelry thefts before my class began. I didn't know flowers came in black.” I should've paid more attention at the flower show's debut last month but catching a murderer was ultimately the proper priority back then. Wait! Given there were calla lilies next to the body along with the ruby, it generated two definitive links between the jewelry thefts and Quint's shocking murder. I needed confirmation on whom the gem belonged to.

  “It's a heavily debated topic in the botany world. Millard and I have often discussed it. What most people think of as black petals are dark purple,” Nana D clarified as she tapped several bony fingers against the table in quick fashion.

  “Do they spray-paint them for certain holidays, like Halloween or Valentine's Day?”

  “Wash your mouth with soap, Kellan. That's just nonsense. I never agreed with altering nature's beauty in an artificial manner. Splicing various species is one thing, but spraying a flower with paint seems excessive.” Nana D was adamant about organic farming and not messing with Mother Earth.

  “Got it, black calla lilies are deep purple. I'll ingrain it in my memory next time. Are they rare?”

  “Used to be. Nowadays, you can get anything off the Internet. It's rare to actually see a black one but not difficult to cultivate and grow them.” Nana D fetched a gardening catalog from the shelf and flipped to an article on the flower. “While you peruse the magazine, I've got a few calls to make. If you don't talk to your brother today, let me know. I'll order him to the mayor's office to find out what he knows about the jewelry thefts.”

  “It says calla lilies represent elegance and mystery and are used at funerals. How creepy!”

  “Grow up.” Nana D crossed into the kitchen to retrieve her old-fashioned, daffodil-yellow wall phone and dialed a number. “Skedaddle. I've got to be downtown in two hours to find out why Paul Dodd was sneaking around with Krissy Stanton, and why his fiancée was sneaking around with Krissy's father. I feel like we've been tossed in the middle of one of your mother's kitschy soap operas. You still gonna drop me off after your little exercise routine to lose the flab you've been packing on?”

  “Oh, right, I almost forgot. Wait… what did you say?” She was already talking to someone, so I checked my watch, set an alarm, and took off for my run. Normally I'd drive to Braxton, race the indoor track, and shower at the campus gym, then head to my office in Diamond Hall. With Nana D's new job and hesitancy to drive on her own, she'd become reliant on me until her chauffeur started the following week. A driver was part of the many perks she'd garnered by winning the election, but the current mayor wouldn't give up the town jockey until his final day.

  I jogged across the orchard to where I could pick up a narrow trail running toward the eastern range of the Wharton Mountains. It was a four-mile distance to reach them and guaranteed me one uninterrupted hour of exercise. Along the path, I blocked out everything weighing me down and focused on keeping my adrenaline high and my running form solid. I reached the midpoint and took a brief water break to admire the cloudless sky and colorful trees and bushes. It was still early enough that the sun's heat hadn't peaked, and the air near the mountains was always a little cooler. My moment of complete relaxation was intruded upon by a ringing cell phone, except it was an unfamiliar tone. I'd also remembered turning mine off, ensuring only calls from Emma's camp would make any noise. I needed to escape from any distraction but couldn't be unreachable for my daughter.

  When I retrieved the phone from my pocket, I gulped. Instead of taking my personal cell phone earlier, I'd mistakenly grabbed the one Cristiano Vargas had bestowed upon me as his personal lackey. I pressed accept and uttered a weak “hello,” knowing the purpose of my run was now forever ruined.

  “Good morning, Kellan. Four miles in thirty minutes, not too shabby,” a cheery yet alarming voice greeted.

  “You're certainly a man of your word, Cristiano. It's been exactly two days.” Another reason to dislike the man, his impeccable timing and incredible accuracy. Of course, he was watching me right now. I looked around for a professional goon hiding around the edges of the mountainous terrain, but there was too much territory to cover in this brief amount of time.

  “It brings me immense pleasure to know I can deliver on any promise I make. Perhaps under different circumstances, you and I would be good friends. Let's table that thought for now. I need your assistance.” Cristiano was listening to the Hamilton soundtrack. I recognized one of the songs. Francesca and I had attended an early preview of the show several months before she'd faked her death. Her father had gifted us the tickets, which had shocked me at the time—it had been impossible to buy them! Now, I knew why he'd been so successful; running a mob family had its advantages.

  “Are you finally ready to deliver Francesca to us?” I was feeling more direct than usual.

  “Not exactly. I'm enjoying her company. She's introducing me to music and culture I know little a
bout. The favor I need won't be too complicated.” Cristiano cleared his throat to let me know he was finished speaking.

  “Hit me with it,” I replied. What could he possibly ask me to do that I'd be willing to entertain?

  “You need to tell Signor e Signora Castigliano that I've learned what they're up to, and it will not fly. Be exponentially clear with them. If they do not retreat, I will be forced to punish those insolent fools.” Cristiano informed me that his team was aware Cecilia and Vincenzo had recently sent a spy into the Vargas camp. “Tell them the friendly face who showed up to offer me a deal isn't looking particularly friendly anymore. I'm sure his battle wounds will heal in time. War can be brutal on someone who is as delicate as a soufflé. Remember that if you ever try to cross me, Kellan.”

  I'd never understood the idiom felt my blood boil until now. How was I stuck in the middle of this sick, twisted vendetta? “What did you do? For that matter, what did the bickering caterwaulers do?”

  “Your only role is to be the messenger. It's better when you don't know any details. If the Castiglianos follow my orders, Francesca will be returned to you within the week. I must go now.”

  “Wait, I don't know what they did—”

  “Goodbye, Kellan. We shall speak no further until I get a sign from them that they understand.” Cristiano hung up on me. How would they give him a sign? Shoot up a Harry Potter Dark Mark in the sky? I had to be missing information that would clarify what was combusting into flames around me.

  My energy level soared after the phone call, and I ran back to Danby Landing more quickly than it'd taken me to get to the mountains. Arriving home, I showered and changed, dropped Nana D off at the administrative building in downtown Wharton County, and zoomed to Braxton where I spent three hours preparing for my afternoon class.