Failure is Fatal (24 page)

I nodded my head. Emily took a sip of her coffee and settled back into the couch to continue her story.

“I went to one of my friends, an associate dean, and pried some information out of her. This is supposed to be confidential so that Dr. Chaffee's rights aren't violated,” said Emily with obvious distaste in her voice. “Marie Becca came into the Student Affairs Office in her freshman year, reporting that Dr. Chaffee was saying inappropriate things to her in and out of class. She filed a formal complaint. They ‘investigated,' which means they asked Chaffee if the story was true. He denied the allegation from Marie. The rest of the semester went by with no further contact by Marie with student affairs. However, just before finals, she came in again, saying she wanted to file another report and also saying she was going to the police with her story, claiming that Dr. Chaffee tried to have sexual relations with her against her will.”

“I'll bet that made Student Affairs sit up and take notice,” I said.

“Oh, yes, and paired with other complaints on file, Dr. Chaffee was encouraged to find another position. If he did so, the college would not take action against him. Somehow they convinced Marie that she should back down also, that Chaffee would be out of the classroom and could no longer harm students. She went along with the plan, but decided to transfer from Barnett. I can't say that I blame her for leaving. The handling of this entire affair was not one of the more sterling moments of the college.” Emily pounded her fist against the sofa in frustration.

“None of this was made public, right?” I looked to Emily for confirmation.

“I don't even think there's any written record of Chaffee's behavior nor of the complaints against him. He traded a clean record for resignation.”

“Unfortunately, he's not out of the classroom. He's now teaching at Shelby Junior College, somewhat of a step down for him in terms of prestige and salary, I suspect, but nevertheless he's still a respected member of the academic community. What was Barnett College thinking?”

“You think Chaffee was responsible for her death?”

“ He's a suspect. He is one slimy and creepy character. I know from first-hand experience.” I related my meeting with Lionel in the parking lot.

“What was he doing here?” asked Emily.

“His brother teaches here. Can you imagine how Marie felt, thinking she had left her problems behind only to find she was registered in a class with Lionel's brother, our own Dr. Chaffee? She dropped the class immediately, but think of the shock of walking into a classroom and seeing an instructor that is almost identical in appearance to the one man you wanted most never to see again? Plus there is evidence from her letters to Ryan that Lionel found her here, whether from information provided to him from his brother, I don't know, but he was bothering her again. What recourse did she have here where he wasn't a faculty member? She must have been frantic. I'm surprised she didn't leave when he began to bother her again.”

“You think he's capable of murder?” asked Emily.

Could he erupt into violence? I felt the presence of something coiled beneath that façade. Was it violence or was it madness? Or both? I just didn't know.

“Yes, he probably is. And I'm just the kind of woman he'd like to see brought to her knees. But here's the problem. Marie just doesn't fit a woman he'd want to kill, unless I'm all wrong about him. He preys on the young and pretty powerless. Students are good targets; they can sometimes be easily intimidated into complying with a professor's request, especially if he appears to be charming and intensely interested in her. Sometimes a little resistance on the part of a student is viewed simply as tantalizing, a form of flirtation. Then again, Marie did threaten to expose him, and as a result, he lost his position at Barnett. Maybe he never had one of his targets go so far to stop him.”

“So what does your friend, Detective Pasquis think about Lionel? He must feel as you do, especially after your encounter with him yesterday.”

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat on the couch. “Well, I kind of forgot to tell Der about it.”

“What do you mean, you ‘forgot'? Oh, I get it. You went into town when you should have been here, taking weight off that ankle. Honestly, you're absolutely incorrigible.”

I had the good sense to be embarrassed at Emily's comments. “I guess I am a little bit pig-headed.”

Emily made a noise somewhere between a snort and a laugh. I smiled.

“Well, I've got to go.” She checked her watch. “It's a long drive back to the river and I've got an early class tomorrow.” She gave me a hug, patted Sam on the head, and grabbed her coat off the hook in the kitchen. “You really should tell Der, you know.” She gave me another hug and stepped out the door.

Emily was right, of course. I really should call Der. I stepped across the floor to the phone, noting again that a day off the leg really made a difference. The swelling was down and there was less pain. Maybe all my plans for tomorrow should be delayed until Tuesday. I gave that only a moment's thought, then rejected it. I was far too keyed up over my findings about Marie's life at Barnett and Lionel Chaffee's role in it. I also wondered how much Melvin knew about his brother's troubles.

Chapter 20

I dialed Der's number. There was no answer. Good! I'd just leave a quick message and get off the line.

“Hi! It's Laura. Thought you might want to know about my meeting with Lionel yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” Der's voice came on the line.

“Don't get sarcastic and don't ask too many questions or I won't tell you all the goodies I found out about Lionel Chaffee and Marie Becca.” There was silence on the other end of the line. “Der? Are you still there?”

“Yeah, I'm doing what you wanted. I'm listening.”

I repeated the story about my unpleasant encounter with Lionel and relayed to him Emily's information about Lionel's departure from Barnett College.

“Very interesting,” Der said.

“That's all you have to say about it, ‘very interesting'?”

“No, there's more to go along with that, but why tell you when you don't share with me?”

“I'm sharing now. What are you going to do about Lionel?”

“I'm going to check his alibi for the night Marie was killed. How's that?”

“Yippee. Now you're talking. Get back to me. I'll be here, working or sleeping. Leave a message.”

I rang off, delighted that things were moving on the case and that Der seemed to be thinking the same way I was. I checked the wall clock. It was after seven. Time for a bite to eat, some mindless television and a final goodnight call to Guy.

When the phone rang, I answered it with a giant bite of cherry pie in my mouth.

“Mmmmmph?”

“Hi. It's Guy. Laura is that you. You sound funny. Anything wrong?”

“No, er, yes. There's no ice cream left for this slice of pie. Der and I ate the last of it yesterday. Did he tell you he cooked for me and that he's willing to do Thanksgiving here?”

“Geez, Laura. Der and I don't stay in touch every day, you know. He just calls me when he knows you haven't and should have, that's all.”

“Right. I'm surprised the two of you haven't exchanged friendship rings.”

Guy chose to ignore that remark. “How's the ankle?” he asked.

“Great. Taking the weight off it really helps, as does the ice. Maybe the teenager who's posing as my doctor knows something about medicine.” I wiped some cherry juice off my chin and pulled up a kitchen chair. “You know, I really miss you.”

“Really? Well, we can remedy that when I come down. I'm free—but you've got to make some time in your schedule for us, you know. No Der for donuts in the morning, much as I like the guy, and no sleuthing and snooping during the day, evening and night. Lock Sam out of the bedroom and we're set. So how about it? Do we have a date?”

I couldn't say no.

*

Early the next morning, a few snowflakes were descending as I pulled into the parking lot near the Student Center. My ankle was so much better that I covered the ground between my car and the building without much effort. I was smiling when I spotted Kay Williams at a corner table and grabbed a cup of coffee.

Kay explained that she only had a half-hour for lunch, so I immediately launched into my inquiries about Marie.

“I really can't tell you very much. She left us after only a few days, saying her work assignment didn't fit her schedule well. That puzzled me because I try to coordinate a student's classes with work-study assignments. I thought I had done a good job with Marie's, but she told me she had changed her class schedule.”

“Who was she assigned to for her work?”

“Dr. Chaffee and his graduate students.”

“Would that include Chancey Wainwright?”

“He was one of them, yes, although there were several others.”

On my way out of the building I picked up the latest edition of the college's newspaper. I hadn't read the
Tattler
for several weeks and decided to take it with me to my office.

With my leg propped up on the desk, a cup of steaming coffee in my hand, and the newspaper spread out in my lap, I passed some time finding out what the student editorial board and reporters thought was going on about campus. Not much, unless one found the listing of campus organizations' advisors racy reading. And I did. I dialed Der's office.

“Der,” I said into the receiver, “have you had a chance to interview everyone in the English Department?” He replied affirmatively. “And?”

“And nothing.”

“I think we need to push Chaffee a little harder. Can you drop by for a few minutes?”

“Drop by where? The house? That's kind of out of my way. I'm working on something in town.”

When I explained I was on campus, Der began his usual lecture about my foot. I quietly and gently placed the receiver back in the cradle and waited.

“You're late,” I said when Der burst into the office.

“Couldn't find an open parking place anywhere near this building.” He threw his large body into a chair. “What's up?”

“I think it would be nice if you and I visited the English Department again, paid a little visit to Dr. Chaffee.”

“Why?”

“Just follow my lead, okay?”

“Laura, we're just all over the place with this murder. The best lead we have is the guy who split the scene. Ryan Cleates looks mighty guilty to me. Even his parents don't know where he is. I've got an APB out on him in the state, but so far no leads. But you still want to play favorites with faculty you find annoying.”

“Humor me.”

“I am. I'm checking Lionel Chaffee's whereabouts the night of Marie's murder. Now you think I should turn my attention to Melvin? Make up your mind. Ah, well. What do I have to lose? You seem to be able to get more out of these folks on campus than I can. I don't understand it. I've got personality and charm and you've got what?”

“I hate to do this, but I'm not trekking all the way across campus to find Chaffee not in his office, so I'm calling first. That's how you come in handy. He'd flee his office in a second if he thought I was stopping by again. But we'll use you for legal clout.”

I dialed Chaffee's number and set up a meeting at Chaffee's office with Der and me. “Let's go. I have the feeling that Chaffee was so unhappy at the prospect of seeing us that he might leave despite you being with the police.”

“I think we should drive to the other side of campus,” Der said.

“We'll never find a place to park there. We'll just hoof it. I've got my crutches, and I'll hang on to you if I need to.”

As it turned out, the snow-covered walkways made navigation on my crutches impossible, so we took Der's car. Der dropped me off and began cruising the area for someone abandoning a parking spot.

“Promise me you won't aggravate Chaffee till I get there.”

I smiled my sweetest smile at him and hobbled to the building.

“Dr. Murphy.” Lionel Chaffee stood outside his brother's office with his usual unctuous smile. Behind him a tall blond woman leaned against the wall, shifting an unlit cigarette around between her fingers.

“Lionel.” I nodded briefly in his direction and then walked up to the young woman and introduced myself.

“A friend of mine, Bridget Collins,” Lionel said.

“Actually we're a bit more than friends,” she said.

“Really? What's a bit more?”

“We're engaged.”

“Now, Bridget, dear, I thought that was going to be our little secret until the holidays.” Lionel nervously jingled the keys in his coat pocket.

“So, to what do we owe your appearance once more on this campus? Some kind of intercampus exchange program that I haven't heard about? I thought you said that you were teaching at Shelby, but you're here so often I'm wondering when you have classes.” I said.

Before Lionel could answer, Bridget stepped forward. “Oh, he only has two classes. I'm in both of them. He has released time for research. Right, Li?”