“Ooh! Apple fritter!” I said, handing him the donut on a plate.
“You sure? I know how you like chocolate donuts.”
I held up the newly selected pastry and said, getting very close to his face, “Apple. Freaking. Fritter!” I took a bite.
“Okay. I’ll take the donut.”
He poured some cream in my coffee just as the bell rang. The students all quit milling about and sat immediately, and Professor Duggery made his way to the podium, clearing his throat several times.
“Good morning, good morning,” he said in his proper British accent. “Please take your seats now so we can begin.”
Brody and I sat in the front row between Deputy Stan Doggerty and Sylvia, but most of the investigative team was still standing and chatting.
“Ahem!” Duggerty cleared his throat again.
I gave Brody a “what the heck?” look when they continued talking and laughing. Then I let out a loud whistle, using my thumb and forefinger.
“Sit down, guys,” Brody said in his Sheriff voice.
That worked. The professor began.
“Thank you all for joining me for this, this seminar of sorts, on such short notice. A case you are all familiar is getting statewide and national attention, and it seems your governor wants it solved right away. Someone apparently told your Kentucky state officials that my technique of observation and deduction might be helpful.”
We all kind of looked at each other. This had to do with a case? Our murder case, presumably?
Duggery continued. “So, you see, we are all here today to solve the murder of your classmate and friend, Miss Randi Taylor.”
There was a long murmur of voices in the room as everyone was a bit surprised and confused. He apparently saw the confusion and doubt on our faces.
“Professor,” one of the students in the back row asked, “how are we going to do that? None of us knows what happened. We weren’t even there.”
Other students muttered and nodded their agreement.
“That is, of course true. You criminology students are mostly here to watch and learn, but those of you who knew Randi, as well as the other players and potential subjects of interest, might still be able to contribute important details.”
I stood up. “But those of us that were there, professor, didn’t really know Randi and the others who came in for the play.”
“Precisely! Now you are beginning to understand, Mercy.”
“Huh? Understand what, Professor?”
“The students know Randi, and you were there for the rehearsals and murder. Each of you may hold a single piece of the puzzle. Once we find and set out all the pieces, we can start assembling the big picture.”
I sat, and the Professor walked out from the podium on the dais, tapping his fingertips together.
“Solving a mystery is very much like creating an oil painting. Each stroke of the brush is just a swish or a swoosh that means very little. There are very few strokes in the finest Rembrandt or Van Gogh that any of us couldn’t easily replicate. It is putting each stroke into the correct context that makes it a stroke of genius!”
Okay, that could make sense to me. The room was quiet now, and everyone seemed to be buying into the Professors’ thesis.
“Solving a crime is like building a skyscraper. No one person knows how to build it. The architects have to draw it out, and the civil engineers can make sure it will bear the load and be able to stand. Someone has to mine the ore, make the steel, form the I-beams. Others can determine the correct mix of cement and gravel and lime to make sure the concrete will be the right strength, others can mix it perfectly, while still others can pour it into the forms. Then there are the tilers, glazers, finishers, elevator men and women, and so forth.
“You get the idea. No one on this entire planet knows how to build a skyscraper, yet our cities around the world are filled with them. I have no doubt that the people in this room, and a few more who will be joining us later, hold the entire solution to this very simple murder.”
One of the young women toward the back began crying and made her way out of the auditorium.
“I know this crime is very fresh and still weighs heavily on your hearts, and I understand perfectly if it gets to be too much for anyone right now. But this is absolutely the best time to find and assemble the pieces that will solve this mystery. Now, let’s get started. Sheriff Hayes, come up here, please.”
Brody looked at me and then stepped up onto the platform. The Professor handed him a dry-erase marker and directed him to the white board in the center of the stage at the back.
“You’ve spoken to everyone who was there that night, correct?”
“Um, ya – yes, sir, professor.”
“So, then you have already interviewed the killer.”
“I suppose I have.”
“Fine, fine. Please write the killer’s name on the board, Sheriff, if you would be so kind.” The old man smiled and nodded, but Brody seemed to be getting a little flustered.
“I – we haven’t solved the case yet, Professor. I don’t know the name at this time.”
“Yes, yes, I see. Quite so, I imagine. But of the 30 or 40 people that were in the dining establishment at the time, surely you must have eliminated some. And I would suppose that you have some potential suspects in mind as well.”
“I suppose, that is correct.”
“Fine, fine. So, please write down the names of everyone who could possibly be the killer, in your professional opinion.”
“It’s a little outside of protocol, Professor. Just tossing out names of mostly innocent people in front of a public audience like this.”
“I see. Well, perhaps you would like to call your governor and tell him that you don’t want to help me solve this crime then.”
The students and deputies laughed briefly.
“Sheriff, everyone of my students has signed a legally binding non-disclosure agreement regarding anything they might learn in this room, and the rest are your law enforcement officials of one kind or another, with the exception of your lovely wife, Mercy Howard, owner of the diner where the crime took place.”
“Well, she’s not my wife yet, sir. She’s my girlfriend.”
Oh, not yet? But maybe someday, then, Brody? I can deal with that.
“Anyway,” Brody continued, “right now the potential suspects would be the people closest to the spot where Miss Taylor was murdered. It happened while the lights were out, which was probably less than ten seconds.”
“That’s logical. Please write the names.”
“So, it would be mostly actors and people in the kitchen. And..and…”
“And the odd old British fellow in the front booth. Go ahead, write the names. Put my name first.”
“Well, I don’t really think you will be a suspect, sir.”
“Were doing detective work right now, Sheriff, not PR work. Write it down: Dig Duggery. Who else?”
“Well, Red was on the throne in the middle, near her chair.”
“Lord Feffelmeyer?” Duggery asked. “Not sure he can move fast enough and still end up prone on the floor a few seconds later.”
Sylvia stood up. “And the knife was thrust into her neck with great force. With Red’s rheumatism and arthritis, I’m not sure he has the strength or can even lift his arms high enough.”
“Agreed,” Brody said. “He will not be on my suspect list.”
“This is exactly the kind of reasoning I was hoping for,” Duggery said. Everyone should add their thoughts and use their minds to rule suspects in and out. Next name. Mercy Howard, perhaps?”
“No, I was holding her hand the whole time. Let’s start with that drama professor fellow, um…”
“Reggie Zorn.”
The voice came from the back of the room, where Zorn was just entering. “That’s Z-O-R-N.”
“Thank you, professor,” Brody said, and wrote the name. “And that chef guy we took into custody.”
One of the depu
ties entered the room with Chef JP in an orange jumpsuit and handcuffs, which they removed, as the students gasped in amazement. The professor had a team of assistants who were setting up folding chairs on the stage for the suspects. Zorn and Lamour took their seats up front.
“Chef Jean Pierre didn’t do it!” A young woman student with long dark hair and eyeglasses stood to claim his innocence.
“Wonderful! Duggery exclaimed. “And on what basis shall we eliminate Chef Lamour, Miss?”
“I know him, and…”
“Yes?”
“He’s dreamy!”
We all tried to stifle our laughter, but to no avail.
“Dreamy, is it? So, he only exists in an ethereal world of dreams, but not in reality? Yes, I suppose that would count him out. But, alas, young lady, we will have to leave this man on the suspect list, unless you have something more substantial to offer.”
Brody was already writing the next name on the board. “Does anybody know Dirk’s last name?” he asked.
“It’s Montague,” he said, rising from the group of students already in the hall. “Do I have to go up there?” He asked, timidly.
“Please,” Professor Duggery responded with a wide sweep of his arm, gesturing towards the next chair.
There was a bit of a clamor at the entrance to the auditorium as the double doors opened and more people were escorted in.
“You could at least let a girl finish her cigarette if you’re going to drag her in here without any makeup, you know. Geez Louise, some people’s kids.”
That was Deloris, of course, followed by Red, Smoke, Ruby, Jake, and Junior. Zack, our young chef trainee and sound-and-lighting man for the play, walking in a moment later. They sat a couple rows behind us. The doors had barely swung shut when they opened again for Del and Betsy, who were escorted in by another deputy.
When each name had been argued over and decided upon, there were seven possible suspects seated on the dais: Duggery, Reggie Zorn, Chef JP Lamour, Dirk Montague, Ruby, Zack, and Deloris.
“What in God’s green earth am I doing up here?” Deloris groused, folding her arms across her chest. “Why, I no more killed that girl than I discovered radium. And why aren’t those two characters up here?” she asked, pointing to Del and Betsy. “They drove off like a couple of madmen right after the murder.”
I gave her a bit of the stink-eye, though I could definitely understand how she felt.
“So, how come the blonde lady next to the Sheriff doesn’t have to sit up there?” One female student inquired. “Just because she’s his girlfriend doesn’t mean she didn’t do it.”
“I told you,” Brody said. “She was with me the whole time.”
“Maybe you two did it together!”
Murmurs of “Yeah!” and “Maybe they did it!” could be heard throughout the back of the auditorium.
Professor Duggery banged his fist on the podium a few times. “Students, students, please! Cases are not solved based on your biases and your desires to protest and stick it to the man! We will have decorum and common sense here; do you hear me?”
The crowd slowly quieted down, but there were still plenty of grumbles going around.
“Fine!” I said, standing up and walking up onto the stage. “I’ll be a suspect too. Professor, I’ll take your chair, since there are none left, and you’ll probably be at the podium most of the time. Maybe we can rule you out first.”
The place was quiet now, and Professor Duggery continued. “These seven people – eight including myself – all had the opportunity and ability to commit the murder of our young victim. Sheriff Hayes, will you and your deputies please read the Miranda rights to all of the potential suspects, please?” He motioned to a student at the right-front of the stage to start his camera and record the upcoming events. “We have some lawyers standing by at the law school if anyone wants to exercise their right to legal counsel.”
“I want an attorney!” Deloris said. “I shouldn’t even be in this group, but if you’re handing out attorneys, I’ll take one – six feet tall, steel blue eyes, and salt-and-pepper hair, more pepper than salt. About 50 or so would be nice, but I can go younger if necessary.”
The professor looked dumbfounded. “Miss…”
“Deloris,” she said.
“Yes. Deloris, we are not a dating service. I’m afraid you’ll have to take whoever is first in line today.”
“Well, you can just skip it then. If I can’t get an attorney with the proper qualifications, then I’d rather not have one.”
They all waived their right to legal counsel, and Professor Duggery continued.
“So, class, we have our…our line-up, shall we say, of all of the people who were in the right place to commit the murder. We all had the opportunity. What is the next thing we should look for? Class?”
There were a lot of blank faces, but I had seen enough episodes of Law& Order and Castle to know the answer.
“Motive,” I said. “Motive and opportunity are what we need to find to solve a murder.”
“Precisely, Miss Howard. Who had a reason to kill that young lady? Whoever it was gave her an excruciatingly painful and horrific death. It seems as though he or she really wanted to get rid of our young victim. Who had a reason to kill Randi Taylor?”
“She did!” The girl with the brown hair and glasses stood up and pointed an accusing finger. “That hussy in the middle with the big eyes,” she said viciously, pointing at Ruby. “And my history teacher from high school!” she added in a giggly teen voice. “Hi, Miss Owana!”
“Okay, tell me why,” Duggery said, as the girl stepped into the aisle and closer to the stage, sneering again and never taking her eyes off my best friend.
Ruby looked horrified.
“I’ve seen the way she’s been looking at my Reggie…Professor Reggie…” She cleared her throat. “Professor Zorn, that is. Reggie was dating Randi; we all knew it. And this little hot-to-trot number no doubt knew it too. I mean they were all together for rehearsals and everything. She would have seen them together. She wanted Reggie for herself,” she said stepping very close to Ruby now, her glare getting more vicious and her voice getting higher and louder. “So, she killed her! She stabbed Randi so she could have Professor Zorn!”
The students applauded as the girl turned and walked triumphantly back to her seat.
Ruby was in shock and put her hand to her chest. “Why, I never! I didn’t! I wouldn’t! I couldn’t!” Then she looked at Reggie Zorn. “I don’t!”
Reggie leaned back smugly, putting both hands behind his head with his elbow nearly in my face.
“So, Professor Zorn, have you seen any evidence of this woman here flirting with you, either today or in preparation for the dinner play?”
“I didn’t really pay attention,” he said looking at Ruby and giving her a wink. “It wouldn’t be unusual though. Chicks dig me.”
I “accidentally” elbowed him in the stomach, and Ruby stood up and shook her finger at him.
“Well, not this chick!” she protested. “I’m engaged to a world-class rodeo cowboy, and I don’t even look at other men!”
What’s this? She’s engaged?
I pulled her to me and whispered to her, “You’re engaged? To Justin? Justin Dean?”
Her face got red. “Haven’t I mentioned that to you, Mercy?”
“Uh – no! I kind of think that I would remember something like that, Ruby.”
I was excited for her, but a little offended that she didn’t tell me. She met Justin – a really great guy – when the rodeo was in town last fall. I could tell she fell hard for him, but then he had to move on to the next big competition. I figured they might stay in touch, but apparently some of those weekend retreats for teacher’s conferences were something else altogether.
“I can vouch for Ruby,” I said. “She’s my best friend, and if she had seen anything at all in this sack of ego and macho narcissism next to me here, we would have talked about it. I was there for eve
ry rehearsal too, and she had no designs on Professor Doorknob.”
“That’s Zorn,” he said condescendingly with his gleaming teeth blinding me.
Duggery continued. “So, Professor Zorn, who do you think killed Miss Taylor? Who may have had a motive?”
“That’s easy,” he said. “Little Romeo here – Mr. Montague was head over heels for the lovely Lady Capulet. But his Juliet, Randi, didn’t want to have anything to do with the little dweeb.”
Dirk Montague turned a deep red, almost purple, from the humiliation heaped on him by the brash and conceited professor.
“That-th-th-that’s ridiculous! I would have done anything for Randi, whether she ever liked me or not. That’s the truth!” he said turning first to Duggery and then to the Sheriff. “I never wanted to kill her. I nev...I would never think of doing that.”
My heart went out to him. “I don’t know,” I said. “I mean, I could tell that Dirk had it bad for Randi, but he never seemed like a threat. He reminds me of a guy I knew in high school that had a crush on me, but even when I turned him down or he saw me with another boy, he would smile. He was a protector, not a threat. I think that Dirk might be like that too.”
The students seemed to agree with their nod and chatter that Dirk was an unlikely suspect.
“And you should have seen him afterwards. He was devastated, in tears, maybe for hours.”
“That’s a load of crap,” Zorn said, shaking his head. It’s always the quiet, creepy ones who can’t control their demons. This little reject threatened me more than once.”
“That’s a lie!” Dirk shouted, his voice noticeably shaky now.
“Is it?”
“To the contrary,” I added. “I heard you threaten him the night of the play, when you two were coming out of the kitchen. You told him to watch his back.”
“You weren’t in the kitchen, Miss Howard,” he said with his obnoxious smile.
Then he turned to Dirk. “You tried to trip me in the kitchen before the show, and I would have fallen into the deep fryer with 350-degree oil in it. You think I thought that was an accident? I’m not stupid, kid.”
Murder Ala Mode Page 8
