Day of the Dead

by Brenda Donelan

  “Of course,” said Chief Langdon. “So you understand that we operated within the confines of the law.”

  Joe just stared at the chief, his mouth down-turned and his fists clenched. A full thirty seconds passed before anyone spoke. “Dr. McCabe tells me a short story was found on Logan’s computer, and it led you to believe his death was a suicide. Is that correct?” asked Joe, regaining some of his composure.

  “We did find a short story detailing the death of a college professor, that has a striking resemblance to Dr. LeCroix’s death,” confirmed Chief Langdon.

  “I’d like to see it. I want to read it for myself,” said Joe with conviction.

  “That’s not possible,” said Chief Langdon. “Again, since you are not the legal next of kin of Dr. LeCroix, we are under no obligation to show you any evidence.”

  “That seems harsh,” asserted Marlee. “As Logan’s life partner for twenty years, Joe should be able to at least read the contents of the short story. Besides, if it’s on Logan’s computer, that would be personal property that Joe will receive as his beneficiary.”

  “The short story was found on Dr. LeCroix’s computer on campus, so it is the property of Midwestern State University. I let Dr. LeCroix’s sister know of the existence of the short story. After summarizing it for her, she seemed satisfied that it showed Logan as someone with the intention of killing himself,” the chief replied.

  “How in the hell would she know?” shouted Joe. “She hasn’t talked to him in years, and I don’t think she’s even seen him in person in the past twenty-five. How could she be in a position to say the story confirms your belief that his death was suicide?”

  The chief did not attempt to directly answer Joe’s questions. Instead, he replied, “Regardless of their relationship, she is next of kin and gets to make the decisions. I asked her what she wanted done with the short story. She indicated that she would like it destroyed. We notified MSU of her wishes, and they deleted the short story from the hard drive. Even if I wanted to show you the story, it’s not possible anymore.”

  “What the hell?” shouted Marlee. “Don’t you think that was premature? What if you eventually find evidence proving that Logan was killed? I would think you would want to preserve all evidence in case something new comes to light.”

  “Why would we do that? The investigation has been closed. Now, if you will both excuse me, I have another appointment in a few minutes,” Chief Langdon said, standing and motioning them toward the door.

  Joe rose from his chair and faced the chief. “One more quick thing,” he said. “I was wondering…”

  The chief silenced Joe by raising his hand, palm facing outward. “No more questions. Look, I know this is hard to accept. Believe me, I’ve handled numerous death investigations and it’s always hard on the family and friends no matter what the outcome. It’s especially hard when it’s a suicide and no one was aware the deceased intended to take his own life. Nobody wants to hear that a loved one killed himself because he couldn’t stand to be alive any more. I would have a hard time accepting it myself.” After Chief Langdon’s uncharacteristic show of compassion, he ushered them outside his office and immediately closed the door behind them.

  Joe shoved open the door in the reception area, and Marlee followed him into the hallway. “Good bye, Lois,” Marlee said, with more than a hint of snarkiness. Her two conversations with the chief today had put her in a pissy mood, and Lois had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the right time. As Marlee and Joe stepped outside the building, the front door to the station had not yet closed when Marlee yelled, “What the fuck?”

  Joe did not say a word, but his face was bright red. She didn’t know if he was going to shout, become violent, cry or pass out. He stared at the sidewalk until he gained his composure. “That guy is the biggest jerk I have ever met. And I’ve met a lot of jerks.”

  Marlee glanced up and noticed the camera over the police station entrance. She pointed it out to Joe, and they walked toward their vehicles, not wanting anyone from the police department to see or overhear their conversation. They both wrapped their arms around themselves and shuffled their feet in an attempt to stay warm. The weather had turned noticeably colder, and the smell of snow was in the air. Marlee suggested they go for coffee to discuss the new developments. At her suggestion, Joe agreed to ride with her to the coffee shop. He grabbed a folded piece of paper on the passenger seat and handed it to her. “That’s just some junk. Somebody put it on my windshield today,” she said, taking the paper and unfolding it. She gave it a quick glance, expecting to see an announcement about an upcoming campus event, like the annual MSU talent show. What she saw made her jaw drop and her heart race.

  Scrawled in black ink in capital block letters were the words, “STAY OUT OF THE INVESTIGATION BITCH!!!”

  Doing the right thing for the right reason will land you in hot water with somebody. Almost always…

  Chapter 24

  “Oh my God,” said Joe, reading the note as Marlee let the paper dangle from her hand. “Who would write this?”

  “I don’t know. Somebody does not want me asking questions for some reason, but I don’t know who it could be.” Marlee was still in shock after reading the note. She turned in her seat to face Joe. “The people I know who are not happy about me being involved wouldn’t leave a note on my vehicle.”

  “Who doesn’t want you involved?” asked Joe.

  “Dean Green made it clear that he doesn’t want me asking questions or doing any type of investigation on my own. He’s a dean. He wouldn’t leave a note. That guy is like a bull in a china shop. If he has something to say, he’s not bashful about saying it. I think he likes ripping into people, so there’s no way he’s the one,” said Marlee.

  “Who else, then?” Joe held the note in his hands. He folded and unfolded the note in unconscious nervousness.

  “Chief Langdon clearly does not want me asking questions, but he wouldn’t leave a note. That seems like something that’s really beneath him. He wants me to shut up, but I don’t see him resorting to notes,” Marlee stated.

  “Is there anyone else at MSU who might be threatened by your questions?” Joe queried.

  “I don’t know. Maybe someone in administration? Maybe a student, or someone who has more information than they’re telling? The killer?” Marlee was becoming frantic as she thought about the infinite number of people who could have left the note, and the threat it contained. Leaving a note seemed both juvenile and sinister. The two pondered the author’s identity as they drove to Main Street and parked directly in front of the Coffee Bean. At least she had some good parking karma today!

  Settling into the booth, Marlee ordered an herbal tea, while Joe requested a hazelnut latte. By the time the waiter returned with their hot drinks, both had decided they wanted something sweet to go with the beverages. Marlee ordered a chocolate croissant, and after some careful consideration, Joe did the same. He gazed around the Coffee Bean, taking it all in. It was small and could only hold around thirty people at a time, but it served the best coffee and pastries in town. Everything in the coffee shop was second-hand and none of it matched, which added to the funky feel of the place. They had the coffee house to themselves that afternoon, but had they arrived in the morning hours there likely would have been a line trailing out the door and onto the sidewalk. The establishment closed at four o’clock, and Marlee knew from previous experience that there would be very few customers in the hour before it closed.

  Since they had already exhausted their ideas on who wrote the note left on Marlee’s vehicle, they moved toward a discussion of their meeting with Chief Langdon. “Wow, could he have made it any clearer that gay people don’t have rights?” asked Joe.

  “I’m sorry he said those things,” said Marlee, ashamed that the head of law enforcement in Elmwood would be so crass and unfeeling.

  “It’s OK. I won’t hold it against the town,” Joe said with a half-smile.

  “I wa
s shocked when he said that anything he told you was just a courtesy, and he was only dealing with Logan’s sister,” said Marlee.

  “I can’t believe it either. What really galls me is that the short story Logan wrote was destroyed. This may be the last thing he ever wrote. I don’t know a lot about solving crimes, but it seems ridiculous for the police to allow evidence to be destroyed,” said Joe.

  “The chief thinks it was a suicide, and doesn’t think the case will be reopened. Either that or he wants to make sure it isn’t reopened,” said Marlee.

  “What do you mean?” Joe looked up from his partially-eaten croissant, holding the ceramic coffee mug inches from his mouth.

  “By having the story destroyed, the only record of what was written is what the chief tells us. He and only a few other people read the story, so it would be based on their memories and interpretations. We don’t even know if what Chief Langdon indicated was true. What if he stretched the truth to back up his suicide theory?” Marlee said.

  “There are legal ramifications if he falsifies information, correct?” asked Joe.

  “Of course, but people in law enforcement cut corners all the time and take steps to ensure their theories are supported. Look, I’m not saying the chief did anything unethical or illegal. I’m just saying it’s a possibility. He doesn’t strike me as the type of guy to be one hundred percent honest,” said Marlee. “By the way, did you read any of Logan’s stories?”

  “I read a few of them, but he was protective of his writing and usually didn’t let anyone read them, except for some other aspiring writers he knew. Logan planned to put them together into a collection of short stories and look for a publisher one day,” said Joe.

  “He wanted to be a writer?” asked Marlee.

  “Yes, that was his dream. He wrote for fun, but also for therapy and creative expression. He was sensitive about his writing and shy about people knowing his true thoughts and feelings. I think he would have used a pseudonym if he had been able to get published,” said Joe.

  “Who knew about his writing hobby and his hopes of getting published?” asked Marlee.

  “Our friends all knew. I suppose Logan told his colleagues at the community college where he taught for years. He didn’t keep it a secret,” reported Joe.

  “Did he keep everything on his computer or did he print it off?” asked Marlee.

  “Sometimes he printed off the short stories and kept them in a folder. I know he’d been having some problems with his laptop for the last couple of months, which is probably why he used his work computer.”

  “So that story may be in existence somewhere in his office or home.” The wheels in Marlee’s brain were turning so fast she couldn’t process all the information about Logan and his dream of writing.

  “I guess so. I know he kept his materials for classes on a flash drive that he carried to and from campus. It was easier than doing all of his class prep on campus or lugging his laptop around,” said Joe. “This is all so strange. If the story wasn’t a suicide note, then how was his death carried out?”

  “I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense that someone else would read his short story and then recreate it as detailed in the story. Who would do it, and what would be the motivation? That’s just too bizarre to even consider,” said Marlee. “Do you think someone wanted something on his computer?”

  “As far as I know, he only had class prep materials, some personal financial information and maybe some of his writing on his computers. I don’t know who would be so desperate to get any of those things that they would kill for them. I mean, if someone wanted his financial information, they could break into his apartment and steal his computer. They could steal his wallet to get his IDs and credit cards. Logan rarely carried much cash with him. He had enough to buy a meal or two and put a few gallons of gas in his car,” said Joe.

  “Did he usually carry anything else with him that someone would want?” Marlee inquired.

  “He had his wallet, keys and some books in a backpack and maybe some snacks. Otherwise, he never had much with him. Logan always preferred to travel light.” Joe smiled and said, “I used to tease him about it, because whenever we went somewhere together he wouldn’t bring much with him but then would have to ask me for a fingernail clipper or Band Aids. I take everything with me when I go somewhere.”

  Marlee smiled as she thought about what a complimentary couple Logan and Joe must have made. She was saddened that she never got to see them together. “Yeah, I think a lot of couples are like that. In some ways, opposites do attract, so they can compensate for each other’s shortcomings.”

  “Very true. We had so many things in common, but our differences really defined who we were as individuals, and we accepted each other for that,” said Joe, with a thoughtful expression on his face. They sat in silence for a few minutes, both in thought about Logan and the huge void his death caused. Marlee felt like she knew Logan better than ever, learning about him and seeing him through Joe’s eyes.

  “Let’s brainstorm for a few minutes,” said Marlee, interrupting the thoughtful silence. “Why would Logan be killed in much the same fashion as his short story depicted? It just doesn’t make sense.”

  Joe chewed the last of his croissant and washed it down with a sip of his latte before speaking. “I don’t know. This seems like some sort of premise for a far-fetched crime drama on television. If I were watching this on TV, I wouldn’t believe it.”

  “Truth is stranger than fiction and I guess we’re seeing that here. So let’s start with why he would be killed in a way that mirrored his short story,” said Marlee, pulling a small notebook and pen from her oversized purse. “Suicide is an obvious and easy answer, although I don’t believe it, and I know you don’t either. I’m still going to write it down, since we need to consider all possibilities.” Joe nodded, looking none too happy to even consider that Logan had taken his own life.

  “Another possibility is that someone knew about the short story and figured Logan’s death would be ruled a suicide when the story was found. It would have given the killer, whoever he or she was, a way to shoot him and not ever be detected. Or, if the killer were detected, they would no longer be a suspect after the short story was located.”

  “This is really far-fetched too, but what if Logan was shot, and it just so happened to be carried out in the same way as this short story? You know, just a coincidence?” asked Joe.

  Marlee was busy writing down their ideas. None of them held much water, but they were just thinking of all possibilities, however random they might be. “Do we know that Logan actually wrote the short story? I mean, someone else could have written it and put it on Logan’s computer either before or after they killed him,” said Marlee.

  “No, I guess we don’t know for sure who wrote the story. I guess that could be a possibility too,” said Joe.

  “Did Logan ever collaborate with anyone on his writing? Sometimes people have writing groups that they share some of their writing with, or they co-author articles and books,” suggested Marlee.

  “Not here in South Dakota. At least, not that I know of. I know he was interested in getting published eventually, but I’m sure he would have talked to me about it before he sent anything to a publisher,” said Joe.

  “Here’s something else I just thought of. Who had access to Logan’s office computer? Could someone have seen the short story and then, for whatever reason, decided to carry out the murder?” asked Marlee. She was already making a mental note to see who could gain access to Logan’s office. Alice Olson, his secretary, had a key, as did the janitor and the physical plant.

  “That’s a good point. I think Logan’s office and computer might be a good place to look for more information,” said Joe.

  “Great idea. Now we just need to get a key. I think Alice Olson will help us. She thought so much of Logan and has been just devastated by his death. She’ll do anything she can to find out what happened,” said Marlee, confident that Alice would be
on board with the plan. “Maybe we can go tomorrow night after most people have left work for the day.”

  Joe nodded in agreement, ready to put the plan into action.

  “Are you a computer whiz, by any chance?” asked Marlee.

  “No. I know the basics, but I’m no computer genius, that’s for sure. How about you?” asked Joe.

  “Unfortunately, no. We’ll need to get a computer-savvy person to come with us,” said Marlee, as the wheels in her head slowed to a pace she could follow. She didn’t want to involve a student in this caper, although most students she knew were very proficient with the inner workings of a computer. Finally, the name of the perfect person dawned on her. “Sanjay Rashad!” she shouted. “He works in the Computer Center on campus, and he has a little crush on me. I think I could talk him into helping us out.”

  “Terrific. That’s just terrific,” said Joe, his mood brightening considerably.

  “I’ll contact Alice and Sanjay to see if we can get their cooperation. I don’t have office hours or classes tomorrow, but I’ll be on campus in the morning for a while to finish up some work. I’ll check with them then. Of course, I’ll be back in the afternoon for Logan’s memorial service. Do you think you’ll be up for visiting with me after the service? I imagine it’s going to be really tough on you,” said Marlee.