Day of the Dead

by Brenda Donelan

  “That’s not the half of it,” said Marlee, surprised that she hadn’t led with the most important information. “I met Logan’s partner, Joe Tisdale. He was meeting Alice Olson for lunch, and I tagged along.

  “What was he like?” asked Diane as she pulled her chair up even closer to the table, intent on catching every detail.

  “Seems like a nice guy who is genuinely upset at the death of the love of his life. I think he knows more than he told me, but I didn’t get the sense that he had anything to do with Logan’s death. Of course, I could be completely wrong on that. He may just be a very convincing liar,” said Marlee as she recalled the lunch time conversation.

  “What did he have to say?” asked Diane. “Tell me everything!”

  “He said they had a strong relationship and the only reason Logan left California was because he was unhappy teaching at the community college where he worked for a few years. He wanted his career to advance, and he had positive feelings about South Dakota since he spent some summers here with relatives as a child,” recalled Marlee.

  “Did Joe seem believable?” Diane asked.

  “He did. He seemed really sincere. Joe also said that if things worked out here for Logan, career-wise, then he was going to move to Elmwood too,” said Marlee.

  “What kind of work does he do?” Diane enquired.

  “Geez, I guess I didn’t get around to asking him about that. I’ll check with Alice later. She probably asked him,” said Marlee, upset with herself for overlooking such an obvious question. Regaining her train of thought, Marlee continued on. “Joe said Logan had problems with three different people or groups since he moved here. The first one he mentioned was a student who seemed somewhat obsessed and went to his apartment a couple times.”

  “Wow. That does seem odd. I’ve never had anyone from classes just show up at my door. Have you?” asked Diane.

  “Nope. That would really creep me out if a student showed up. Logan was creeped out too, according to Joe. He told the kid to only approach him on campus. The second questionable thing that Logan told Joe about was a neighbor who hurled some gay slurs at him. Joe said the guy was drunk and with some of his buddies at the time. I’m not sure if it was a one-time deal, or if it happened more than once,” Marlee said, wishing she’d asked Joe more about it.

  “That’s horrible. It’s bad enough that some people have negative attitudes about gays, but then to say something right to Logan’s face is even worse. Coming from California, he was probably used to a lot more tolerance than he faced here,” Diane said, with a look of disgust.

  “No shit. He probably thought he’d fallen into a reverse time-warp and ended up in the 1950s. Joe said another group made Logan feel really uncomfortable too. Some guys from the gay community asked Logan out for drinks a few times and talked about beating up other gays and being beaten up themselves,” said Marlee.

  “You mean like a gay fight club?” asked Diane, trying to get her mind around the concept.

  “No, it’s more like if one person feels romantically rejected by another guy, then the first guy and his friends go beat him up,” said Marlee, hoping she had completely understood this absurd story that Joe had revealed to her.

  “That happens on a regular basis around here?” asked Diane.

  “Apparently so,” said Marlee. “The whole thing made Logan nervous, especially after one of the guys expressed a romantic interest in him.”

  “So, Logan thought he might be assaulted for not returning the interest?”

  “Yeah, that’s what Joe made it sound like. Weird, huh?” Marlee said, shaking her head. “I’ve never heard of a group regularly using physical violence against someone who isn’t interested in one of them.”

  “Me neither. Maybe you should check with Gwen and Shelly to see if they’ve heard anything about this practice,” suggested Diane.

  “Great idea!” exclaimed Marlee as she quickly walked into the living room toward the telephone. She grabbed her small address book which contained the telephone numbers of her family and friends. Punching in Gwen’s home number, she waited for an answer. The answering machine came on, and Marlee left a brief message asking Gwen to call her as soon as possible. Then she hanged up and called Gwen’s campus offices number. Marlee was unsure of Gwen’s teaching and office hour schedule, so she wasn’t hopeful that she would reach her. She was relived, when on the fourth ring, a female voice answered. “This is Dr. Gerken.”

  “Gwen, hi. This is Marlee. Do you have a minute for a quick question?”

  “Sure, what’s up?” asked Gwen.

  Marlee briefly relayed parts of her conversation with Joe, and then asked if she knew anything about groups of gay men beating up other gay men in town.

  “What?” asked Gwen. “I’ve never heard of anything like that anywhere. Of course, lesbians tend to live a much different life from gay men, so maybe it goes on, and I just don’t know about it. I’ll ask around and let you know what I find out.”

  “Thanks, Gwen. Also, do you know of any gay men here in town named Clyde and Darren?” asked Marlee. “Joe said they invited Logan out for drinks, and they were the ones who brought up the thing about assaults. Darren also seemed to have some romantic interest in Logan, which made him really uncomfortable.”

  “That’s understandable. I don’t recognize the names, but I’ll check on that too. Gotta run. A student is waiting outside my door to talk to me,” said Gwen quickly as she hung up the phone.

  “Thanks,” Marlee said to an already dead line. She reported to Diane the conversation she just had with Gwen, and they both sat down in the living room wordlessly.

  Two hours later, Marlee rubbed her eyes upon hearing some banging and clanging of pans in the kitchen. Thinking about all of the events of the day had turned into a nap. A long nap. Now, Diane was in the kitchen making supper. “Hey, why did you let me sleep so long?” asked Marlee as she trudged into the kitchen, stretching her arms above her head.

  “I fell asleep too and only woke up about a half an hour ago. You were snoring like a buzz saw, so I figured you must be really tired,” Diane said with a laugh. “When I got up, I knew I needed to start supper, since this dish takes a while to cook.” Diane chopped carrots and threw them into a pile along with diced onions and celery.

  “What are you making?” asked Marlee, confused as to how it could be nearing meal time.

  “It doesn’t really have a name. I just put a bunch of vegetables and chicken in a pan with some broth and seasoning and bake for an hour. It’s really good, plus it’s low carb,” she said.

  Marlee assisted Diane with the remainder of the meal preparation, and then they retired to the living room to drink wine and talk more about the case. It was nearing 6:00 p.m., and Marlee knew Alice Olson would probably be home from work by now. She gave her a quick call. “Hey, Alice, I just wanted to thank you again for letting me tag along at lunch. I’m really glad I got to meet Joe and find out more about Logan. I hope I didn’t upset him too much with all my questions.”

  “No, I think he was just tired. He’s been through a lot in the past few days. He didn’t say anything to me about being upset by your questions,” said Alice.

  “By the way, did he ever tell you what he does for a living?” asked Marlee.

  “He’s some type of engineer, but he lost his job a couple months ago and hasn’t found a new one yet,” said Alice.

  Marlee’s mouth dropped open as she considered the new twists that Joe’s unemployment placed on the case. She realized that she hadn’t talked to Joe about money and assets. If Joe was unemployed and had fallen on hard times, then he had a financial motive for wanting Logan dead. And if he didn’t have a job in California, what was keeping him from moving to Elmwood?

  People see what they want to see and people think what they want to think. As the old saying goes, “If you’re looking for something, that’s probably what you’ll find.”

  Chapter 15

  The next morning Marlee a
woke to her alarm clock beeping at an obnoxious decibel. It occurred to her that this was the first morning since Logan died that she hadn’t woken up on her own. She hit the snooze button and laid in bed, pondering the investigation and her role in it. Marlee knew that she owed it to Logan to find out as much as she could about what had really happened to him. Whoever killed him deserved to be brought to justice and incarcerated. Since the police department and the university seemed to be taking a lackadaisical approach to the matter, Marlee felt it landed on her shoulders to determine the cause of Logan’s death. After nine minutes, the contemplation was over. The alarm sounded again, and she needed to get her butt out of bed and ready for work.

  Marlee got to her office around 8:00 a.m., although her first class wasn’t until ten. She wanted to do a bit more sleuthing but needed to keep a low profile so the dean couldn’t berate her further for her independent investigation. Marlee quietly entered her office, leaving the lights and the computer off. Any glow of light under the door would be a tip-off that she was there. After getting her notes together for her two classes that morning, Marlee walked to Thom Dole’s office. She hadn’t caught up with him yet, which was important since he was one of the first people to see Logan’s body.

  Thom Dole was in his office down the hall with the lights off and his door slightly ajar. He was short, with an athletic build and a mop of unruly brown hair that always looked as if he had just come in from a wind storm. He had a quick wit and a loud voice, both of which added to his enthusiastic telling of any story. Marlee knocked on the door frame, startling him as he sat reading from his computer screen. His usual jovial mannerisms had been replaced by a somber appearance and large dark circles beneath his eyes.

  After exchanging pleasantries and complaining about the dismal weather once again, Marlee asked Thom about finding Logan’s body on Monday morning.

  “Technically, I wasn’t the one who found him. Cecil, the janitor, did. He ran to my office to tell me right after he found Logan. Cecil knew that I’m an extreme early bird and like to come in around 4:00 a.m., so he knew I’d be here. About five thirty, Cecil pounded on my door and told me somebody was lying on the sidewalk with blood around him. I ran down and saw that it was Logan. I could tell he was already dead, but I felt for a pulse anyway. Then I called 911,” Thom recalled, with a pained look on his face. He was reliving the scene as he retold it.

  “Did you see the gun or anything else that might have been used as a weapon?” Marlee inquired.

  “I didn’t. All I saw was Logan on his back with blood underneath him, especially around his head,” Thom reported.

  “Did he have any belongings with him, like a backpack or a briefcase?” Marlee continued.

  “Not that I noticed, but it was such a shock that I really couldn’t take it all in at the time,” Thom said apologetically.

  “That’s completely understandable. When I talked to Sim-Sam that day, she said you told her that you thought Logan committed suicide,” stated Marlee, anxious to get to the part of the conversation she really wanted to have with Thom.

  “Yes, I thought that because, really, who gets killed on a college campus in South Dakota? Nobody. Suicide seemed like the only logical answer,” said Thom.

  “Do you still think it was suicide?” asked Marlee.

  “I’m not so sure anymore. It doesn’t make much sense for Logan to kill himself in that way. Plus, I don’t really think the gun would have been in the dumpster several feet away if he had shot himself. I’ve been through it in my mind, over and over. I just don’t know what to think,” replied Thom with a woeful expression. The death had taken a toll on everyone on campus, but Thom and Cecil had felt the worst of it since they had seen Logan after he died.

  “Thanks for talking to me about this, Thom. I just wanted to follow up on what I heard from Sim-Sam. I thought you might have some inside information that wasn’t released to the public,” said Marlee, relieved to hear that Thom was no longer sticking with his claim of suicide.

  “No, I only know what I just told you,” Thom said. He looked at her quizzically and asked, “Why are you wondering about this?” It was well-known on campus that Marlee had a background in probation and many ties to local law enforcement. Thom seemed to be inquiring if she was officially helping out on the investigation.

  “Just trying to make sense of everything,” Marlee said, lying only a little. Thom nodded, accepting her brief explanation. Marlee thanked him for his time and waved as she backed out the door and into the hallway. She heard the dean’s booming voice around the corner and knew she needed to make herself scarce before he saw her. She quickly ducked into the supply room and pushed the door partly shut. She crouched down behind a stack of boxed copy paper until the dean’s voice faded away, and she could make a safe exit to her office.

  Marlee’s two classes were largely uneventful that morning, and she gave her lectures on auto-pilot. She was so familiar with the information in both Intro to Criminal Justice and Policing that she only half-way needed to keep her mind on the topics. As Marlee walked from the Putnam building back to Scobey Hall after her last class at noon, she spied Donnie Stacks walking across campus. “Donnie! Hey, Donnie!” she yelled, waving her arms.

  Donnie looked toward Marlee and stopped. Recognizing her professor, she walked toward Marlee with a slow, deliberate gait. “Hey, Dr. M. What’s up?” she asked casually, running her hand through her short red hair.

  “You’re just the person I was hoping to see,” said Marlee, relieved that she could finally have a follow-up conversation with this student. After agreeing to chat, Donnie followed Marlee up to her office in Scobey Hall. Marlee closed the door behind them, just in case the Dean was patrolling the halls again. She didn’t want him or anyone else listening in on this conversation.

  Donnie disclosed that she’d been having a rough time since Logan’s body was discovered on campus. “I had nightmares and started worrying that a killer was lurking on campus. Plus, I had some papers due in a couple classes and couldn’t concentrate on them. I was talking to my mom about all of this, and she said I should come home for a few days. I’m glad I did, because I feel much better now. Plus, I actually finished both papers.” Donnie smiled, but underneath the cheerful expression, it was obvious there was more on her mind.

  “I was talking with Jasper Evans and Dom Schmidt on Tuesday, and they seemed to think you had some information on Logan’s death from a police source,” said Marlee.

  “I heard about the gun being in the dumpster over fifty feet away from his body,” Donnie replied, not disclosing her source of information.

  “Did this come from Sylvester Blake?’ questioned Marlee, knowing the two of them often sat together in her classes.

  Donnie looked around uncomfortably, not wanting to answer the question but also not wanting to avoid a direct question from her professor. Finally, she nodded and looked down at the floor.

  “Look, I know you don’t want to break a confidence, but if you tell me what he told you, I’ll keep it hush-hush,” Marlee assured Donnie.

  “Yeah, it was Sylvester. He didn’t say much more than that. The last I knew, they hadn’t found any fingerprints on the gun and hadn’t been able to trace it. Please don’t let this leak out. I’m not that great of friends with Sylvester, but his wife and I have known each other since elementary school. If he finds out I blabbed this, my friendship with his wife will be over. He has a way of turning his wife against people he’s upset with,” Donnie reported.

  “Mum’s the word,” said Marlee, as she thanked Donnie for the information. “Wait, do you know anyone in Dr. LeCroix’s French 101 class this semester?”

  “I’m in it. It’s a good class, and I really liked Dr. L. a lot,” said Donnie, with the woeful look returning to her face.

  “Is there a male student who maybe sought a lot of attention from Dr. LeCroix before or after class?” Marlee inquired.

  “Nate Krause. He’s this weird guy who always makes a lot
of comments in class, but they don’t make much sense. I’ve been in a few classes with him, and he usually makes an ass out of himself and then just stops going to class,” reported Donnie.

  “Did he talk a lot in Dr. LeCroix’s class?” Marlee asked.

  “Yeah, he made the usual dumb-ass comments in class. He was always up at Dr. L’s desk before class and then would stick around after the rest of the students left. There’s something wrong with that guy,” Donnie answered.

  “What do you mean?” Marlee asked, her curiosity piqued by Donnie’s statement.

  “Well, he seems to be obsessive and won’t let things drop if he still has questions. I remember, at the beginning of the semester, Nate had questions about the Provence region in France, and Dr. L. kept putting him off saying that we would be covering it later. Nate wouldn’t let it go. He kept asking and interrupting until Dr. L. just gave in and answered all his questions. It put us behind in class, and some of us were so mad at him,” stated Donnie.

  “Mad at…?” asked Marlee, unsure if Donnie was referring to Logan or Nate.

  “Mad at Nate. He’s such an idiot. Not that he’s dumb, but he doesn’t have any social skills and doesn’t have any friends either. We call him Creeper because he’s always in the Student Union, just staring at people,” said Donnie, with a shudder as she thought about Nate Krause.

  “Did you get the sense that Dr. LeCroix was afraid of Nate?” Marlee asked.

  “No, not afraid, just annoyed. Dr. L. never said anything negative to Nate in class, but I could tell he was irritated by him. I don’t know what was said after class when they were the only two left in the room,” Donnie stated.

  “Thanks for the help, Donnie. I’ll check over at the Student Union for Nate and talk to him one of these days,” Marlee said, standing up and moving toward the closed door.

  “If he’s not in the dining area of the Student Union, you might check with the counseling office upstairs,” said Donnie, as she slung her backpack over her right shoulder, then slid her left arm into the remaining strap.