Dying for an Education

by Stacey Alabaster

  Dying for an Education

  Hang Ten Australian Cozy Mystery, Book 10

  Stacey Alabaster

  Fairfield Publishing

  Copyright © 2019 Fairfield Publishing

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Except for review quotes, this book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, without the written consent of the author.

  This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is purely coincidental.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Epilogue

  Thank You!

  1

  Alyson

  I was staring in the rearview mirror, checking for what I was sure were new wrinkles at the corners of my eyes. Prodding. Poking. If I pulled them up a little, did that help anything? Uh oh. And my mouth as well.

  This was simply unacceptable. How was I going to fit in with eighteen and nineteen-year-olds looking like this? I pulled down the sun visor to check if I looked any better in that mirror and found that it was magnified and that I looked even worse.

  “What are you doing?” Troy said with a laugh from the driver’s seat.

  “I’m just realizing that I’m ancient and should not be attending university.”

  I slammed the sun shield shut and sat back in my seat, sulking for the first time in our forty-minute journey to the university grounds. I had been so excited when we’d left the house—one week on campus to trial all the classes that I might enroll in. A try before you buy sort of thing. All the fun without any of the commitment. Excitement!

  But that was before I had seen myself in the cold, hard light of day. “Everyone is going to think that their mum has come along to class,” I said to Troy, who was navigating the way. He’d been to the campus before to give a guest lecture in the business facility, so he knew the best route to take to get to Ferguson University. The campus was a small one, nestled in the woodlands. It was away from the coast, slightly up the mountain ranges, and was part of the small town of Ferguson.

  “Nah,” he said, glancing over to reassure me. “You can still pass as right out of school.”

  Maybe.

  I didn’t want to tell Troy that he couldn’t. He was giving me a lift so that would have been pretty rude. It wasn’t just the early flecks of gray in his hair that did it either. There was just something about the way that Troy carried himself and dressed… It was like he had an aura of ‘old,’ even though he was just in his 30s. Too many expensive suits and too many years working for a million-dollar company. I wondered if it looked like my dad was accompanying me on campus.

  Ferguson University wasn’t too far from Eden Bay, so if I decided to enroll, I could just catch the train on the days that I had classes and try to schedule it so that all my classes fell within a block on the same few days, and I still had one or two full days off so that I could still run my business. Troy had already pointed out how much more convenient it would be with a car. The train only ran a few times per day and you also needed to take a connecting bus to the campus when you actually arrived in Ferguson. “Yeah, well, when I win the lotto, I will buy a car,” I said. He’d actually offered to help me out with the financing. Not what I had been fishing for at all. There was no way I was going to borrow money from Troy or let him help me with a loan.

  Troy glanced at me. “You seem anxious.”

  As if. “I think you’re the one who is anxious, Troy. I’m chill.”

  The truth was, a lot of anxious thoughts were running through my mind. I was most at home either on the ocean or right beside it. Not in a classroom. Especially a classroom with a bunch of academics who had been preparing for this their whole lives. Unlike me, these were kids who had finished high school and graduated with top marks. They were all going to be brainiacs.

  My nerves mostly concerned the English Department. Even though I was intending to be a business major, all first-year students who entered on an adult learner pathway program had to take a certain number of compulsory English classes. Definitely not my strength, so I was only going to take the absolute bare minimum. I was going to trial two to see which one I liked the best.

  “I’m just worried I’m not going to fit in amongst all the highbrow scholars,” I said a little wryly.

  Troy assured me that as this was a more regional campus with a more ‘relaxed’ admissions policy, I wouldn’t have anything to worry about as everyone would be from my sort of working-class background. And even though that was kind of offensive, it also made me feel kinda relieved. I wouldn’t have to put up with any snobs or anyone talking down to me.

  I leaned back in my seat and started to relax and enjoy the scenery as we neared the blue mountains. It was different from what I was used to, greener, no ocean views, kookaburras in the trees and a hazy hue to the air, almost smog-like. However, the temperature had dropped at least five degrees as we got higher in altitude and further away from the coast. I was still in jean shorts and a tee, but I knew that when we stopped, it would be time to pull on a jacket.

  But actually, by the time we found a spot in the chaotic parking lot of Ferguson University and I had to run to the classroom so that I wasn’t late for my very first lecture, I was out of breath from the effort and that warmed me up so much that I was actually warm in my shorts and tee. But I had found the Wooley Building, which was where my first English class was. Room B.

  Troy was running behind me.

  “Do you want me to come in with you?”

  I glanced Troy up and down in his tailored sky-blue suit and checkered shirt. Wow. Now that would really look like I’d gotten my dad to come hold my hand on the first day of class.

  “No. I’ve got this,” I said and told him that I would meet him in the bar just off-campus as soon as the lecture was done. I was pretty sure I would need a drink, and Troy already looked like he needed one.

  All the pews were made of thick wood and I gulped as I walked into the front of the lecture theatre after everyone else had already taken their seats. Yikes. Everyone looked so smart. All in glasses and checkered shirts like Troy’s and blazers and cardigans. I thought Troy said this was a more relaxed campus? I was expecting the kids to be there in their pajama bottoms, blurry-eyed and in desperate need of a good night’s sleep. But nope. These kids were there to learn, and they were there to compete.

  I took a seat right in the back so that I could at least hide a little, even though everyone had seen my walk of shame up the aisle. Three rows down, there was a guy with fire red hair who craned his neck around to check out what I was doing, and he looked very disapproving at this intruder who had come into his class.

  You could just tell he thought he ran things by the way he looked down on everyone else, and as soon as the lecturer—Rick Niemer—started the lesson, this red-haired kid was putting his hand up and butting in to interject his opinion on the text, almost like he was trying to teach the class. Or at least let everyone else know that he was the student who was most learned and that his opinions on the text were the
most worth listening to.

  I had already been told by a couple of students I’d spoken to online that this Rick Niemer was by far the most popular of the English teachers. He was on the relatively young side at thirty-six, was empathetic toward students, and had a dry sense of humor that he injected into his lectures to make the subject matter more interesting.

  We were thirty minutes in and the class had already cracked up at his jokes several times. Except for me. Don’t get me wrong—I liked Rick. He was warm and entertaining. I just didn’t get the jokes. He was telling us about signs and signifiers, and all the jokes were flying right over my head.

  I could barely keep up. What were semiotics? I thought about reaching into my bag for my phone so that I could ask Claire for some help, but at the start of the lesson, Rick had said that anyone using their phone during class would be politely asked to leave. I didn’t want to get thrown out of class on my first day.

  Well, I didn’t want to get thrown out of class at all.

  Rick paused for a moment and looked out over the class. “Words are just templates of reality,” he said, referring to something that had been in the required reading that week. “What does that mean?”

  I thought I knew the answer to this one, so I put my hand up. Sam—fire-head Sam—was glaring at me over his shoulder. He wanted to be the one to give his opinion.

  “Yes,” Rick said, nodding toward me. “Who am I speaking to?”

  “Alyson,” I said, sitting up straight now that all eyes were on me. “And I think the author meant that words are just like cookie cutter shapes of reality.” I had no idea where that had come from, truly. I was stunned that I had said that. I expected the whole class to laugh and snicker, but Rick just nodded at me, impressed, and everyone else in the class nodded along as well.

  Except for Sam.

  Afterward, he stopped me in the hall. “You know that I already have the only place on Rick’s honors list next year.” Just to make sure I knew that he was buddy-buddy with the teacher and I had no chance of getting a look in. Well, it wasn’t like I cared that much. Sure, Rick was a good teacher and I could see why he had a reputation on campus as the student’s favorite, but it wasn’t like I had any intention of becoming his best friend. Or his honors student. I had only just met the guy.

  Belle was blonde and tall, sort of like a curvier version of Claire, and she wore thick cat-eyes glasses and a turtleneck sweater even though it was a warm day. She turned to me and did a knowing roll of the eyes to show that everyone thought Sam was as annoying as I did.

  “So, it’s not just me then?” I asked with a giggle as Belle showed me to the quadrangle where she assured me the best iced coffees were.

  She shook her head and readjusted her glasses with a loud scoff. “Oh, no way! Everyone thinks he is a giant pill.”

  “Rick Niemer seems like a great teacher,” I said.

  She sighed and looked around the quad a bit dreamily. “I really wanted Rick to be my honors supervisor,” she said, looking forlorn.

  I had to ask the question. “Er, do you have a bit of a crush on him?” I quickly added. “I only ask that because it seems like everyone in the class does.” And it was true. Even though Rick was not the most conventionally handsome bloke—he was 5’8, balding, and very thin—it seemed like everyone in the class had been mooning over him and vying for his attention.

  Belle giggled a little. “It’s kinda hard not to. I mean, it’s like a guilty crush, you know? A bit hard to explain. He just has this presence about him and he is so smart…” She kinda drifted off a bit and there was this dreamy look in her eyes. But then she pulled herself together. “Though my main interest in him is purely academic, of course.”

  I nodded quickly. “Of course.”

  I sighed a little as we took our seats, happy but feeling a little out of place in this strange new world. There was a band playing in the corner of the quad, gentle acoustic music. Belle was right—this was the best iced coffee I had ever had. I was sipping and sipping. There was a hint of sweet caramel to it, even though I hadn’t asked for any to be added, and that made it very addictive.

  “Well, welcome to Ferguson University,” Belle said, clinking her cup against mine. I’m not sure if it was the caffeine, or the sugar, or just the vibe, but we both got up and wandered over toward the band and soon I was dancing, right in public, right in the middle of the day.

  And I’d forgotten all about meeting Troy.

  2

  Claire

  It was just one week. I could survive without Alyson for just one week, right? I mean, I had survived without her just fine for almost ten years when I’d lived in Sydney. This would be nothing. Easy. A piece of absolute cake.

  I was staring out the window of Fabled Books and over Eden Bay, where I could catch a glimpse of the pure blues of the sea. The entire town seemed quiet. Was that strange? I mean, Alyson did make a lot of noise to be fair. If she wasn’t rolling around on her skateboard hooting and hollering—or falling off her skateboard—then she was marching around town trying to change people’s minds about whatever her cause of the week was.

  But I would get used to the peace.

  And quiet was good, right? Good for a change of pace, anyway. A week without my best friend would fly by.

  I checked the time. Only an hour had passed.

  Another hour dragged on.

  What was super strange about that morning, though, was that I hadn’t had a single customer. Well, Troy Emerald was away with Alyson and he was one of the biggest spenders I had at Fabled Books. I was actually going to struggle to make rent that week without the hundred dollars or so that he regularly spent each week.

  I decided to make the most of the peace and quiet and cracked open the spine of a novel I had been meaning to read for ages. It was called Ice Cream Girls, about two best friends who got caught up in a mystery. I decided to ignore how close to home that was, and I decided that this week would actually be good for me. I could have a ‘Claire Week’ and just do the things that I liked, not the things that Alyson insisted I should like and do.

  I heard a gentle creaking coming from above when I hit chapter four.

  I glanced up at the ceiling carefully. Level two was a half level, like a little loft in back of level one where the cats liked to sleep and the dust liked to settle. What was that noise?

  Level two got a bit neglected, to be honest. It was where we stored most of the second-hand books and the old sci fi and fantasy novels, which weren’t really my thing, to be honest. And anyway, they were such cult favorites that folks who were into that sort of thing didn’t mind that it was a bit dusty up there. They never commented on it or complained, so I just left it as-is.

  The cats really liked it, but it kind of spooked me out up there, especially when I was alone in the shop. Bianca was in Sydney for the beginning of the week and wouldn’t be arriving until Thursday, so it was all up to me to run things in the meanwhile. Maybe she could go up there and give it a bit of a dusting when she got back. I had never seen her get her hands dirty before.

  It was strange, though. There was a stool right in the middle of the aisle upstairs. Customers used it for reaching books on the top shelf, but I didn’t like keeping it right in the middle of the row like that in case someone tripped over it. They could trip right over the ledge, fall to the first floor, and snap their neck. And I didn’t want to have to be dealing with the fallout from that.

  I went up and moved the stool out of the way, so that if anyone did go up there that day, they would be safe. And I did it so quickly that I almost tripped myself and fell over the ledge and broke my neck. I shivered a little bit and was just glad that I wouldn’t have to go back up there. It was giving me the creeps.

  But we didn’t get anyone else on the top floor of the shop for the entire day

  And yet when I glanced back up there while I was locking the door at the end of the day, I saw something that made my blood run cold—the stool had been moved back i
nto the center of the aisle.

  3

  Alyson

  A massive, unseasonal chill had hit Ferguson, and everyone was concerned because there was a sports carnival later that week. If the weather didn’t clear, it would have to be called off. Also, it was just plain weird for it to be that cold in NSW at this time of year, early spring.

  I was shivering in the motel room, pleased that I had thought to bring a jacket even though I rarely wore one.

  “Is that…hail?” I asked in disbelief as I stared out the window. There were massive gusts of wind and now rain, and I was sure that it was icy. It was making a lot of noise as it hit the ground, and I could see little white balls.

  “Surely not,” Troy said in this gruff, annoyed voice like of course he knew best and I was just being silly. But he was still annoyed with me for forgetting to meet with him earlier, and so far, most of the ice I had been experiencing had come from inside that room.

  “It is hail!” I exclaimed as I went outside and reached out. There was actual ice falling from the sky. We were THIS close to there being snow in spring. Well, I guess we were a lot closer to the mountains than Eden Bay was, but I still didn’t expect SNOW. Maybe it would be kinda cool coming here to study a few days a week—something different—and maybe I could even stay in the student accommodation during the week.

  When I suggested the idea to Troy, he simply scoffed. “You’re a beach girl, Alyson,” he said. “You couldn’t hack living this close to the mountains for half the week.”