A Midsummer Night's Murder

by Colleen Helme

This time my grin was real. “Will do.”

  After stopping for a sandwich, Dimples drove us to Molly’s place of employment. She worked at a community college in their administrative offices as a completion coach. With summer semester in full swing, the campus had plenty of young people attending classes.

  We found the administration department, and introduced ourselves to the secretary. “We’re here about Molly May,” Dimples said. “And we’d like to speak with her boss.”

  The secretary’s eye widened, and she wondered if Molly was in trouble since she hadn’t come in. “Sure. Is something wrong with Molly?”

  I glanced at Dimples. He was thinking that I should listen real close while he told her about Molly in case she had something to do with it.

  “Yes,” Dimples said. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but she was killed last night.”

  The secretary gasped, and her face paled. “Oh no! Was it an accident?”

  He shook his head. “No, she was murdered.”

  Shock rippled through her. “Oh my gosh! That’s terrible. What happened? Who killed her?”

  “That’s what we’re hoping to find out,” I said, catching her attention. “Do you know of anyone who would have reason to want her dead?”

  “Me?” she squeaked. “No. I have no idea.” She was thinking that Molly had the hard job of telling students that they were failing in school, but that was no reason for anyone to kill her.

  “If you think of anything that could help us, will you let us know?” Dimples asked, handing her his card.

  “Oh…sure.”

  “Good. Now, can we talk to her boss?”

  “Oh, right. Follow me. Her office is this way.”

  She led us down a hall to a big office. The door was open and a woman sat behind a large desk wearing reading glasses. At our approach, she pulled the glasses from her face and glanced at us expectantly.

  “Hi Lorna, sorry to interrupt, but these are detectives from the police. They want to talk to you about Molly,” the secretary said.

  Lorna stood and held out her hand for us to shake while we introduced ourselves. “Please, have a seat,” she said, motioning us to the chairs in front of her desk. “What’s going on with Molly?” She was thinking it was strange that Molly hadn’t come in today, especially when she usually called or sent a text.

  “We’re sorry to tell you that she’s dead. She was killed last night.” Dimples waited a moment for Lorna’s shock to subside before he continued. “We’re here to ask if you, or any of Molly’s co-workers, could provide us with any information about her and her life. Was she close to anyone here that she might have confided in?”

  Lorna swallowed her shock and tried to think about who had a friendship with Molly. Drawing a blank, she shook her head. “Her faculty advising team would be a good place to start. I think she and Brittney are close, so you should start with her. Brittney’s the secretary in charge of the drop-in center.”

  “Thanks,” Dimples said. “Where can we find her?”

  “The advisement drop-in center is on the third floor of this building. I can have Gwen take you there if you’d like.”

  “Sure,” Dimples agreed.

  We soon followed Gwen to the third floor where she introduced us to Brittney, a slender woman in her early twenties, with long brown hair. She glanced up from her computer as we approached.

  “These are detectives from the police who’d like to speak with you about Molly,” Gwen said.

  Brittney’s brows rose in surprise. “What’s going on?”

  Dimples hated this part, but forged ahead. “Molly’s been killed. We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  Brittney gasped and her hand flew to her mouth. “What? She’s dead? How?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to find out,” he continued. He turned to Gwen, who seemed more than happy to stay and listen. “Thanks for bringing us.” She took the hint and left. He turned back to Brittney. “May we sit down?”

  “Of course. I’m sorry. I should have offered you a seat. I’m just so shocked. I can’t believe she’s…dead.”

  “I understand it’s a shock.” After sitting, Dimples continued, “Can you tell us about Molly? Do you know why someone might want her dead?”

  Thoughts whizzed through Brittney’s brain about who could have killed Molly. She finally settled on the only one that made sense. Maybe it was her work to help those people that had backfired? But why would someone like that turn on her?

  “Who was she helping?” I asked.

  Brittney closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “She helped the high-risk students, those whose grades were failing, and who were in jeopardy of dropping out. But she did more than that…I know she became involved in their lives, and she took an interest in them as people, not just students.

  “I can’t believe someone killed her. She was just the sweetest person.” Tears formed in her eyes, and her hands shook as she wiped them away.

  “Did you know her boyfriend?” Dimples asked.

  “Angel? Yes, of course. He was one of the first students she helped. It’s been a couple of years ago. She fell for him almost immediately, even though she was older.” She glanced at us and her brow puckered. “Why?”

  “He’s been arrested for her murder,” Dimples said.

  “What? That’s impossible. He wouldn’t kill her. He loved her. There has to be a mistake.”

  “That’s what I think,” I said. “So it has to be someone else. Who has she been helping recently?”

  Brittney glanced at her computer. “I’m not sure, but we could take a look at her desk. Maybe there’s something on her calendar.”

  We followed her into a nearby office with a desk and computer. A framed picture of Molly and Angel sat behind the pencil holder, and I realized I’d never seen Molly until now. She had big brown eyes and long dark hair that framed a beautiful, oval face. Angel had wrapped his arms around her from behind, and they were smiling with happiness.

  My heart filled with sadness for them both, and I let out a sigh before glancing through the papers on her desk.

  Brittney brought up the calendar on Molly’s computer. “It looks like she’s been meeting with several students over the last few weeks, but the one with the most appointments is Jackson Ward.” She looked him up on the computer database and checked his schedule. “It looks like he’s in class right now. Do you want to talk to him?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  She printed out his class schedule and handed it to me. “His classroom is in the annex building just across from this one, room one-thirty-three.”

  “Thanks,” Dimples said. “We’ll want a list of all the students Molly’s helped in that last few months. Could you get that ready for us? We’ll come back after we talk to Jackson.”

  “Sure. I’d be happy to. You might want to hurry because class is just about to end.”

  We thanked her and rushed out of the building, finding Jackson’s class while everyone was still there. At the door, Dimples didn’t hesitate and walked right in, interrupting the teacher. “Excuse me, but we need to speak with Jackson Ward? Is he here?”

  The teacher glanced toward the back of the class at a young man with dark hair and eyes. His jeans had several holes in them, and he wore a graphic t-shirt. His startled gaze jerked toward us, and panic set in. He had no idea what we wanted, but seeing Dimples’s badge was enough to get his heart pumping. He stood, ready to bolt.

  I quickly moved in front of the door, and offered him a smile that did little to curb his alarm. As he came abreast of me I spoke. “We just have a couple of questions, then you can finish up in here.”

  My explanation brought a degree of relief from him, but not as much as I’d hoped. We moved out into the hall and Dimples began. “We’re here because we’d like your help. One of the faculty advisors, Molly May, was murdered last night, and we just found out she met with you a few times. Did she confide in you about anything that was bothering her? Or do you
know of someone who disliked her?”

  “Molly?” He leaned back against the wall in disbelief and astonishment. “Someone killed her? I just talked to her yesterday.” He could hardly believe she was dead. What had happened? Sudden guilt washed over him. It couldn’t be because of him, could it?

  “Let’s go sit down,” I said, taking his elbow and urging him toward the open foyer with a group of couches and chairs. He followed without a word, and sat down heavily, still reeling in shock.

  “Do you have any idea who might have done this?” I asked.

  “No,” he said, refusing to share his suspicions, especially because he didn’t want to believe it himself.

  I let out a sigh and knew I had to tread carefully or he’d bolt. With sudden dread, he put his head in his hands and leaned his elbows on his knees. He shook his head in disbelief that she was dead, and raked his hands through his hair. The movement exposed the tattoo on his upper arm, just below the hem of his sleeve.

  I’d seen that same tattoo on Angel Molina’s arm, and my stomach tightened. “Jackson,” I said, getting his attention. “I’ve seen a tattoo just like the one on your arm recently. What does it mean?” I pointed to the tattoo, and he jerked away from me.

  “Nothing, it’s just a cool design.” But he was thinking that it was the gang symbol, and he didn’t want us to know. Poking around the gang could get him in trouble, or dead, and for the hundredth time, he wished he had the money to get it removed.

  “Do you know Angel Molina?” I hated to ask, but I had to know.

  Jackson straightened and caught my gaze. “I don’t know him.” But he knew about him. Angel was one of the first to leave the gang. It had given him and some of the others the courage to follow in his footsteps, and make something out of their lives. But what did that have to do with Molly’s death? He wanted to ask me, but now he couldn’t.

  “Can you tell us anything that might help us find her killer?” I asked. “We know she was helping you. Did she mention anything that was troubling her?”

  He shook his head. “No. I don’t know anything. When I talked to her yesterday, she was fine.” But she did seem on edge, and he knew something was bothering her. “If I knew, I would tell you. She was a good person. She didn’t deserve to die.”

  I glanced at Dimples. He was wondering if I was done, or if I needed more time. Since there were two questions, I had to nod for the done part, and shake my head for the more time part, and hope he got the message.

  His lips tilted up, and he turned to Jackson. “Thanks for your time. If you think of anything that could help us catch her killer, please don’t hesitate to call.” He handed Jackson his card and we stood. As the classroom doors opened and students began to trickle out, Jackson took the card, and blended in with the crowd.

  “Should we go?” Dimples asked. “Or do we need to go back for the list?”

  I shrugged. “We might as well get the list, but I’m not sure we need it.”

  “Why? What did you pick up?”

  “It’s not good for Angel. It looks like both he and Jackson belonged to the same gang. That seems to be the tie to Molly. It sounded like she’s helped quite a few of the gang members leave the gang, and Angel was the first.”

  “Did you get the name of the gang?” he asked.

  “No, but you saw the tattoo on Jackson’s arm. Is there a way to find out what gang it is, from the tattoo?”

  “I’m sure we can find it in the police database.”

  With a heavy heart, we left the campus, stopping by Molly’s office to pick up the list of people whom Molly had helped. Back at the precinct, we combed through the database looking at gang tattoos. I probably could have asked Angel, but he already felt guilty enough, and I didn’t want to add to it.

  “West fifty-three. That’s the one.” I pointed to the tattoo with the five and three intertwined to make them into a stylized graffiti-type symbol. “What do you know about them?”

  “Not much,” Dimples said. “But they’re involved in some pretty bad stuff.” He was thinking drugs, crime, murder…the whole nine yards.

  I wondered what Uncle Joey and Ramos thought about them. Did they have an arrangement with them like some of the other gangs? Either way, it looked like I needed to find out, especially if I was going to clear Angel’s name.

  Could Molly’s death have been a hit that they’d ordered? But why would they want her dead? Or was it more to do with Angel, and the fact that he’d left the gang? If so, why hadn’t he thought of that possibility?

  “Do you think the gang killed Molly because of Angel?” Dimples asked.

  “I don’t know. He didn’t even think of that as a possibility, so I’m a little confused. Of course, it’s been a couple of years since he left.” I checked my watch. All this chasing around had taken most of the day, and I needed to talk to one more person. “Uh…I’m going to call it a day.”

  “All right,” Dimples said, but he studied me with apprehension. “Just don’t go after anyone without me, okay?”

  “Don’t worry about that.”

  He smiled, but he was thinking that I had other resources I could go to, and he’d rather I steered clear of Manetto and his hit-man, Ramos. But that was probably wishful thinking on his part. I was probably headed over there right now.

  “No I’m not,” I said, lying through my teeth. “I’m going home.”

  Dimples just shook his head and watched me go.

  Chapter 4

  As I headed over to Thrasher Development, guilt burned a hole in my chest, but I pushed it away. If it helped get Angel acquitted, I needed to talk to Ramos, even if Dimples didn’t like it. Even better, I could catch the real killer, which was just as important.

  I drove into the parking garage and sat in my car. Uncle Joey didn’t like me working for the police, so I wasn’t sure it was a good idea to talk to him right now. Ramos didn’t either, but he would probably have some great information on the gang, so it was worth the risk of involving him. Instead of heading up to the office where I might run into Uncle Joey, I took my phone out, and called Ramos.

  “Babe,” he answered. “What’s up?”

  “Hey,” I replied in my perky voice. “I’m working on something and could use your help.”

  “What kind of help?” he asked, his voice guarded.

  Since I couldn’t read his mind over the phone, I could imagine his reluctance to get involved, since it usually meant I was in trouble. “I’m not in trouble,” I said. “I just need to know a few things about a gang.”

  “Which one?”

  “Uh…they’re called the West fifty-three. Have you heard of them?”

  From the silence on the other end, I figured he had. He let out the sigh I’d been expecting. “Where are you?”

  “Uh…in the parking garage at Thrasher Development.”

  “I’m on my way down.”

  He didn’t sound real happy about helping me, but I hoped he didn’t mind too much. I got out of my car and watched the elevator for his arrival. The doors slid open and he stepped out.

  I waved to get his attention, and he started over, bringing all that bad-ass glory with him. Ramos exuded danger. Along with his Latino good looks and hunky body, it was enough to send any woman’s heart into torrid palpitations, and I was no exception.

  He reached my side, standing a little closer than was strictly necessary, and cocking his eyebrow. What the hell was I into this time? “West fifty-three? Don’t tell me you’re mixed up with them.”

  I caught the concern behind his intimidation tactics and let out my breath, grateful he didn’t scare me…much. “No…not at all. I just need some information.”

  His shoulders relaxed, and he leaned back against the car beside me. Shaking his head, he caught my gaze. “Why?”

  Dang! Now I had to tell him that I was working for the police…or maybe I could leave that part out, and tell him that Angel was my client, and I needed to know so I could get him out of jail. That shou
ld work.

  “Well, I have a client, Angel Molina,” I began, and told him the whole story. “So now you know why I need to find out about the gang. Do you think someone in the gang could have murdered Molly to get revenge against Angel?”

  “No.” He shook his head, thinking there had to be more to it. “But it probably has something to do with her murder. You said she’d helped more than one gang member?”

  “Yes. From what I could gather, Angel was the first of several. Why?”

  He shrugged. “Could be they don’t like their members leaving, but I don’t know why they’d kill her.” It made more sense that they’d kill Angel before they killed her.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought, too.” I glanced up at him with a hopeful gaze. “Do you know anyone in the gang we could talk to?”

  His brow rose at the “we” part of that question, and his lips twitched at my brazen request. “You really want to talk to them?”

  “Well, you have to admit that I should be there…you know…”

  Letting out a breath, he nodded, knowing my mind-reading skills would come in handy, but not sure he wanted me there. But what could he say? No? I won’t do it. I’d probably just find someone else to help me, like that detective I called Dimples, and then who knew what would happen?

  “All right,” he agreed. “I know where to find them. If you insist on coming, you have to keep your mouth shut, and let me do all the talking.” He cocked his brow again, and waited for me to agree.

  “Sure,” I said, shrugging. “How soon can we meet with them?”

  “I can text him right now. If he’s available, we can meet him anytime.”

  “Great. How about now? Are you busy?”

  He chuckled and checked his watch. “Not for another hour or two.”

  I listened to his thoughts, but he’d closed off his mind pretty tight. He knew how to do that around me, and he did it well. So now I had to wonder what he would be busy doing in a couple of hours, and if it involved a woman…or something illegal for Uncle Joey.

  Whoa…that was none of my business, and I really didn’t want to know, so I smiled instead. “Great.”