Digging Up Death (A Mari Duggins Mystery) Page 5

  “That was a long time ago, Mari. People change. Almost everyone has changed over the years except you and Jack … and Professor Henderson. I don’t know what it is exactly, but there’s something about Peter that doesn’t sit well in my craw. Don’t make a rash decision. Sleep on it and let me know.” She patted my hand.

  I didn’t need to sleep on it. I had my aspirations set on something bigger. “Sure, I’ll give it some thought. Can you set it on my desk? I’ve got to get Matt from school.” I handed it to her.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Let’s say I’d like to slap him so hard his clothes will be outta style when he stops rollin’.” I tipped the corners of my mouth so she’d think I was joking.

  “Oh my stars. You better git then.”

  “First I need to tell Fletcher where I’m going.”

  She raised one eyebrow, shooting me the look Nonna used to give me when she caught me stealing her fried meatballs before Sunday dinner.

  “Candy, he’s harmless. Really. I can handle him.”

  Poised with her hand on her hip, Candy shook her head. “Just because a dog got no teeth doesn’t mean it won’t bite. You be careful, you hear?”

  “I will.”

  When I entered Henderson’s office, Fletcher sat at the desk rummaging through some papers. He flashed me his canines.

  “What’d you find? Blackmail photos?” I clutched my red tote.

  “Don’t I wish. Just some copies of Henderson’s tenure papers. Too bad he left us so soon. It appears he had a cushy job planned for his golden years. Though according to this—” Fletcher waved a piece of paper. “Holding onto it might’ve been tough.”

  I walked to the desk. Fletcher slid the papers to me. “Seems like Kipling had more than one problem with the old goat.”

  I scanned the letter from Peter to the review board. How could the detectives have missed this? Circus music flitted through my mind. “Peter was trying to have Henderson’s tenure revoked? I thought it was talk. Like the rumors about Henderson breaking up Peter’s marriage.”

  “Those aren’t rumors.”

  I studied Fletcher’s face. He was serious. “I thought Henderson dated Susan after her marriage to Peter broke up. Peter told me they separated because of financial difficulties straining their marriage.”

  “Mari, Henderson was the reason Peter and Susan separated.”

  A sharp breath whisked through my open mouth. Why hadn’t I seen it before? The obsessive rivalry. Peter’s jealousy over Henderson’s academic successes. At times it seemed Peter went out of his way to pick a fight. I gulped in a breath, recalling my premonition and the argument outside my dressing room. Someone did get hurt. “Why’d Peter lie?”

  “If I got dumped by my old lady for my boss ten years older than me who I despised, I wouldn’t be advertising it. The man’s ego must have looked like Swiss cheese.”

  “I can’t believe Susan had an affair with Henderson. I admired her for staying home to raise her kids and for giving up her nursing career. Why would she destroy her family?”

  “Maybe she got tired of playing house and wanted someone else to make her bed.”

  “How selfish to put her desires above … what kind of woman would do that?” Or man?

  “Someone who’s human.”

  “I’d never destroy my family like that.” Jack had that covered.

  “Listen, Saint Mari, none of us are perfect. Not even you. Who knows what went on between Kipling and Susan. Maybe Kipling had a heavy hand. It’s not your place to judge.”

  “It’s still hard to believe Susan … of all people.” With her cheerful spirit and cute brunette bob, she reminded me of a modern-day Mary Tyler Moore in her Laura Petrie days. Devoted to family and husband. Though even I had to admit Peter Kipling was no Dick Van Dyke.

  “What’s done is done. They’re not together, so forget it.” He leaned back in Henderson’s chair and propped his feet on the desk. Dirt sloughed off his boots.

  “You better clean that up.”

  He saluted me and brushed the dirt from the desk. “Let’s focus on more interesting matters.” Fletcher pointed to the tenure letters in my hand.

  “I’d love to stay and chat, really, but I’ve got my own problems to deal with.” I set the papers down.

  “Jack’s check bounce?”

  “No. It’s my brother, Matt. And I’m running late.”

  “One little peek? I promise it’ll be worth it.”

  “Fine.” I shuffled through the papers, stopping at the document detailing a dozen accusations of Henderson’s sexual misconduct with students over the last five years. “Do you believe all this?”

  “Actually, no. I knew several of those girls when they were freshmen. There’s no way they’d go for Henderson over me.”

  I smacked him across the head with the stack of papers. “Maybe someone should’ve filed a sexual harassment suit against you?”

  “Touché. But I would never pursue a relationship with a student, just a co-worker.” He raised his eyebrows twice, and I wished I had a syringe full of Botox to paralyze his facial muscles.

  I threw the papers on the desk. “Sorry, I don’t have time for this, as amusing as it is.” I glanced at my watch. “I need to go. If you really meant what you said about helping, can you finish cleaning without me?”

  Fletcher sat up, a protest forming on his lips.

  “You owe me.”

  “I’m really sorry about that.”

  The guy looked like a lost cub. “Turns out I might not have blown my chance at KTXL.”

  Fire returned to his countenance. “Great. You’ll have to fill me in.”

  “Can’t. I’m in a hurry.” I walked toward the door.

  “How about at dinner tonight?”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “I’m buying.”

  “I promised I’d be home for dinner. The last time I ate a hot meal with the kids was almost a week ago. Besides, we’re having lasagna.”

  “Did you make it?”

  “No.”

  “Then lasagna it is.”

  I checked my watch and groaned. “Fine. 7:00 sharp.”

  “I’ll bring the wine.”

  “No wine.” I cringed as my mind shot to the last time Fletcher and I shared a toast too many.

  “Then I’ll have to intoxicate you with dazzling conversation.”

  Maybe I’d better take my chances with the wine.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  11:59 a.m.

  Lyndon University Parking Lot

  THE DECEMBER SUN SHONE overhead as I maneuvered past rushing college students and headed toward the faculty parking lot. With each step, my temperature rose, and it wasn’t because the thermometer read seventy-two, several degrees above normal for this time of year.

  What could I say to Matt’s vice principal and the boy’s parents to assure them my brother had a momentary lapse of sanity, that deep down he wasn’t a juvenile delinquent, that he deserved a second chance?

  I bit my lip. No denying it. He was his father’s son.

  Between hungry college students and those late for finals, LU’s parking lot buzzed with vehicles coming and going, dodging wayward pedestrians who darted out between parked cars. I covered my ears as a souped-up engine revved, then I checked both ways before stepping into vehicular chaos. I spied my BMW on the other end of the parking lot.

  “Mari, wait.” Elizabeth jogged toward me, almost getting clipped by a yellow pickup.

  “Are you taking a break? You usually don’t get off until 3:30 on Mondays.”

  “No, I’m finished for the day. They cancelled all the shows.”

  “Really? Because of Henderson?”

  Elizabeth shrugged. “I guess. You’re going to pick up the boys today after school, right? I can get the girls later after the Christmas pageant practice.”

  “I completely forgot. I have an appointment at 3:00 with KTXL. They missed the show this morning and asked me to bring a tape.
”

  “See, I knew everything would work out. But who’s going to get Ben and Luke?”

  “Can’t you do it? You’re off now.”

  “I wish I could, but I’ve got something I can’t get out of.”

  “I can get Danny to pick them up. It’s one of the perks to having a student as a tenant.”

  “Why can’t Matt do it?”

  “He’s been suspended.” I dug in my bag for my keys.

  “What?”

  I extended my right arm across Elizabeth, protecting her from a speeding car. “I’m off to get him now.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes widened, but I knew she wouldn’t inquire.

  I raised my right hand, keys dangling. “I promise to find out the details and let you know as soon as possible so you can do that interceding thing you do.”

  She shrugged. “I guess I can pick up the boys. I’ll reschedule.”

  “Don’t worry. Danny’ll get them. You keep your appointment. You deserve a little pampering.”

  Elizabeth hesitated. “I don’t feel comfortable with Luke riding with Danny.”

  “Come on, Elizabeth! What do you have against him? Just because he was raised in foster care doesn’t make him a pedophile. I trust him enough to let him rent the room above our garage. He’s a good kid. Ben loves him like a brother.”

  Elizabeth pressed her lips together. “Okay. I’ll plead the blood of Jesus over them.”

  Not a pleasant visual. “Please, enough gore for today. My stomach is still spinning from the thought of Henderson being murdered.”

  “That explains the police around the set. I thought he had a heart attack.”

  “Me too, but the detective thinks otherwise.” I jolted at the “King Tut” ringtone. Two calls in one day? Something had to be wrong. “I need to take this.”

  “Mari, don’t let Jack suck you back in.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m so over him.”

  “Call me later.” Elizabeth jogged to her car.

  I nodded and answered my iPhone. “Jack.” I tried to mask the anxiety in my voice. The line crackled, then an explosion muffled Jack’s words.

  Numbing tingles shot through my chest.

  “Jack? Are you okay?”

  No answer. A second blast ripped through my ears. I panted for air, my world closing in as the line went dead.

  CHAPTER NINE

  12:05 p.m.

  Lyndon University Parking Lot

  WITH TREMBLING HANDS, I opened the door to my BMW and slid in the driver’s seat.

  Stop overreacting. Jack is fine. He’s always fine.

  I trudged through the muddy waters of my mind for a logical explanation to what I’d just heard. Frazzled nerves and near starvation could bring on hallucinations, couldn’t they? Besides, satellite reception was unstable in Egypt and archaeologists never used dynamite. Why did he call?

  I started the car and set my phone in the docking cradle, my pulse settling right above resting. Thoughts of my prodigal teenage brother smothered my irrational fear. Jack was fine. He had to be. Matt, on the other hand, was where I needed to focus my worry.

  Nausea replaced hunger as I exited the parking lot and passed fast food row. The smoldering volcano within started to bubble. How could Matt do this? Not only would his reputation be tarnished, but his recklessness reflected on the entire family.

  Ten minutes later I drove into the Winton Hall Preparatory School parking lot, signed in as a visitor, and slipped down the hall to the office hoping no one knew the reason for my visit. I knocked on the door and held my breath.

  “Come in.” The older woman behind the desk eyed me with her penciled eyebrows raised. “Mrs. Duggins?”

  I nodded.

  “They’re waiting for you.” I could sense her shaking her head and “tsk-tsking” me as I walked away. When I entered the room, three pairs of eyes assaulted me.

  Mr. Fielding hunched over his massive desk. His audible sigh splattered me with judgment. “Mrs. Duggins, please have a seat.” He pointed to the armchair next to an elegant woman with expensive highlights who stared straight ahead at Mr. Fielding. She sat noble and erect, poised like a model spokesperson for good posture in her pink polo shirt and tennis skirt, which accentuated her personal-trainer-sculpted thighs.

  Elongating my short torso in the leather chair, I crossed my legs and adjusted my skirt to hide my Mediterranean assets. With a pound of makeup caking her feminine features, the woman looked ready for the runway, not tennis at the country club. Seconds seemed like minutes before she turned and scorched me with her stare.

  A thousand ice splinters pricked my fingers, the numbness scaling my arms, then slowly, like an ice sculpture in July, I started to melt.

  “This is Mrs. Lewandowski, the mother of the boy Matt assaulted.”

  I shifted to find a comfortable position. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Lewandowski.” The poster mom for lifestyles of the rich and snobbish glared down her perfectly sculpted nose toward me. “I … I don’t know what got into him.”

  Matt slumped in a chair in the corner of the room. His arms crossed over his blue blazer, face contorted. When had the light gone from his steel blue eyes?

  “How in the world can Todd sing in the Christmas musical with a broken nose?” Mrs. Lewandowski gracefully flailed her tanned hands with perfect French-manicured nails. A large diamond ring adorned her slender finger.

  Hiding my pinky nail under my Coach bag, I uncrossed and crossed my legs. My lip quivered, then trembled as I pushed out another apology. “I’m so sorry.”

  “His father is going to be furious. Talent scouts will be in the audience. Do you know how hard it is to get noticed in a small town like ours?”

  Ironically, I understood all too well. “I know it won’t make up for what Matt did, but I’d be happy to pay for the medical bills.” I peeked at Matt, gnawing on a hangnail, oblivious to our conversation.

  “Oh, you’re right about that. You will pay. A lot more than medical bills. Expect a call from my lawyer.” She glared at Matt, then at me. “How you ever got accepted in to this fine institution, I’ll never understand, but you can be sure I will see to it that there are stricter acceptance requirements from now on.”

  My facial muscles tensed as I suppressed tears, fighting the stereotype, pushing away the judgment I had lived with most of my life. A cacophony of emotion threatened to destroy the person I toiled so hard to create. I wouldn’t let her see me fall apart.

  Mrs. Lewandowski stood. “Now if there’s nothing more to discuss here, I need to check on my son.” She turned on her heels and stalked out of the office.

  I looked at Mr. Fielding, leveling my voice. “What happens now?”

  “The officer should return soon. He’s with Todd Lewandowski and his father taking a statement in the nurse’s office.”

  Five minutes of agonizing silence later, a policeman stepped into the room, his truck-driver paunch hanging over his utility belt. It wasn’t hard to tell he was a coffee and donut man. The wet spot on his dark blue shirt and crumbs in his mustache took the mystery out of his diet.

  “Mrs. Duggins, I’m Officer Taylor.” He extended his hairy paw. The black dirt under his fingernails threatened to soil my hands. I reluctantly shook it. “Seems like we got ourselves a little situation here. The Lewandowski boy says Matt attacked him without provocation.”

  Matt shot from his seat. “That’s a lie. He started it.”

  I glared at my brother, but he stood, eyes challenging.

  “Why don’t you tell us what happened?” Officer Taylor opened his notepad. With the cap of his pen, he dug in his ear. My stomach lurched. Thankfully, it was empty or there’d be another stain on Officer Taylor’s uniform.

  Matt shoved his hands in his wrinkled khaki pants, the ones I picked up from the dry cleaners yesterday. “I was standing in the lunch line, minding my own business, when he shoves past me and cuts me in line. He grabbed the last brownie and whispered something to his friend. I told him to say
it to my face, then he called me a white-trash low-life orphan.”

  Officer Taylor scribbled in his notepad. “Then what happened?”

  “Someone bumped him, and his tray fell. He shoved me, and my tray fell. That’s when I hit him. It was self defense.”

  “Seems Todd Lewandowski has a similar story to tell.”

  Breath whooshed from my lungs. I knew this was all a misunderstanding.

  Officer Taylor stared at Matt. “Problem is, he says you cut him in line, called him a spoiled wuss, grabbed the last brownie, and hit him in the nose when he called you a white-trash low-life orphan.”

  “That’s a lie!”

  Officer Taylor’s unibrow rose high on his thick forehead. “He didn’t call you a white-trash low—”

  “No, that’s the truth. But I didn’t call him a spoiled wuss. I’d think of a more creative insult.” Matt smirked. “And he grabbed the last brownie.”

  “The Lewandowskis are still pressing charges. I’ll be talking to eyewitnesses. There were a lot of people in the cafeteria. It shouldn’t take long to get to the truth.”

  “What about Matt’s suspension? If the boy provoked him, why suspend Matt?”

  Mr. Fielding stood and walked to the front of his desk. “Mrs. Duggins, no matter who started it, Matt still broke Todd’s nose. How long he is suspended will be determined by Officer Taylor’s report. When he finishes his investigation I’ll take this to the review board. If the other boy provoked your son as Matt says, then he will be dealt with accordingly.”

  I turned to the officer. “Can I take him home now?”

  Officer Taylor handed Matt a sheet of paper. “If it’s okay with your legal guardian, I’ll need you to put everything you said in writing.”

  I nodded.

  After Matt filled out the police report and signed his suspension papers, we headed to the parking lot in silence. I surveyed the area, making sure the lot was empty.

  “Matt, how could you hit that boy? You know better than to fight violence with violence. Why can’t you live up to your namesake?”