Murder in a Basket (An India Hayes Mystery) (9 page)

I found the SOEC in the parking lot, pamphlets in hand. Erin said most Martin students referred to them as “So-Ick” because of their questionable hygiene.

The lone security guard shouted into the din, trying to be heard.
“You must leave this area.” He didn’t look any older than the students he was yelling at. His skin was blotchy, and I wondered if he would break out in hives from the strain.

I almost retreated. A car turned into the lot. It held an elderly couple, who were obviously there to attend the festival. Their eyes widened when they saw the scruffy band of SOEC members. They circled the lot
, threw a last regretful look at the students, then abandoned the parking lot for the open road. Although unlikely, they might have bought one of my paintings or been the source of my next big commission. Carmen was right; the SOEC crew was a problem.

I approached the person I assumed was the leader of the group by the way the female members hovered around him in a fascinated orbit. He was a white kid with blond dreadlocks and wire
-rim glasses. Dreadlocks might work on some people, like reggae singers, but on this kid they resembled dirty blond sponges. By the way the girls hung on his every word, I guessed I held the minority opinion about his hairstyle.

Dre
ads looked me up and down. “Hey, you’re in my psych class, aren’t you? Want to help the cause?”

I sighed. I certainly hoped when I hit thirty years old, w
hich I could see off in the not-too-distant horizon, I would no longer be confused with a student. I’m told I should take the confusion as a compliment, but it was most definitely a hindrance when I tried to exude authority.

The girls ba
red their teeth at me. Never fear, ladies. I’m so not interested, I thought.

“
Uh, no. I’m not a student. I’m a librarian here.”

“
The library is on the other side of campus.”

I tried hard not to sigh again.
“I know that. I’m also helping out with the festival, and I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“
We aren’t bothering anyone,” a girl piped up.

“
Actually, you are. You’re scaring people away from the festival.”

“
Are you India Hayes?”

I nodded.

“Your parents rock,” Dreads said. “I met them at a rally a couple weeks ago. They are awesome even though they’re so old. They gave me a lot of pointers about having my voice heard.”

Carmen would be so thrilled to learn we had our parents to thank for the uproar.

“They’ll be glad to hear it. It would be a big help to us—to my parents even—if you could move this . . . disagreement to another part of campus.”

“
But this is where the community is hanging. We are spreading the word.”

“
That’s admirable, of course,” I said, placating.

One of the girls stepped forward. She was a petite Indian student with heavy eye
makeup. “I heard you’re going to find out who killed that woman on Thursday.”

My head snapped around.
“Who told you that?”

She shrugged.
“Everyone’s talking about it.”

“
Yeah,” another agreed. “It’s huge. This is the first big thing to happen on campus all year.”

This wa
s all said by people who weren’t related to the victim, who didn’t know her, who didn’t find her body and crushed skull. I could blame their interest on violent television, video games, or just plain media altogether, but I suspected people had been morbidly interested in these things before the media was ever involved. It always came back to the chicken or the egg.

The Indian girl spoke up.
“It totally creeped me out to think I was nearby when the murder might have been going down.”

“
Nearby? What do you mean?”

“
I was riding my bike back to the dorm after a late class and heard some people fighting on the practice field as I rode by.”

“
When was that?”

She thought.
“Class got out at seven-fifteen, so probably seven-thirty.”

And I discovered Tess’s body at eight
-thirty. What the girl said fit in with both Doc’s and my timetables. She probably did hear the killer.

“
What did the voices sound like? Male? Female?”

“
It was hard to tell. I didn’t hang around to listen. I wanted to get out of there. One was definitely female. I could tell she was upset.”

“
You didn’t call security?” There was an accusatory tone in my voice.

The girl winced.
“I just thought it was some couple fighting. You hear that all the time on campus. I didn’t think it was serious.”

I smiled at her.
“It’s okay,” I said, even though it wasn’t. A quick cell phone call could have saved Tess’s life. I didn’t say that. I didn’t want to put the weight of Tess’s death on her thin shoulders. Truthfully, I didn’t know if I wouldn’t have done the same thing.

“
What’s your name?”

“
Raka.”

“
Did you tell the police what you saw?”

“
They never asked me.”

“
That’s because they didn’t know you were there. You need to talk to them. Your information narrows down the time of death. It will make it easier to find who is responsible.”

“
I don’t know if I want to get involved. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Dre
ads swung an arm over Raka’s shoulder. “You have to, babe. You’re cracking the case. You’ll be a hero. You’ll be protecting people just like we protect the otters.”

The crowd of disheveled students agreed.
“You’re a hero, Raka,” one said.

Raka glowed with the cause. I’d seen the same expression on my parents too many times to count.

“I can take you to talk to an officer now. There’s one here at the festival,” I said.

She nodded.

I thanked the rest of the group and suggested the library quad, which was right in the middle of campus, for their campaign. Hopefully, it wouldn’t get back to Lasha that I was the one who sent them there. I wasn’t sure whether the SOEC kids or the corn hole tournament would have been worse.

“
She’ll catch up with you guys later,” I said and led Raka back to the festival.

As luck would have it, Office Habash was walking by. I waved her over.
“Raka, tell her what you told me.”

Habash listened carefully.
“This is very important information you have. I’m going to need to take you to the Justice Center for a statement.”

Raka
’s dark brown eyes became huge. “I don’t know.”

“
It’s no big deal,” I said. “My parents are there at least once a week.”

Habash smiled.
“It will take a half hour at most.”

“
Oh, okay.”

Habash looked at me. Her black eyes were questioning.
“Should I tell Detective Mains you were the one who brought Raka to our attention?”

“
Please don’t.”

“
No problem.”

I smiled. Was I wrong, or were Officer Habash and I becoming friends? Now, if I could just win Knute over, I thought.

Back at my booth, Ina waited impatiently. I blinked when I saw her ensemble. She wore a green gingham dress and buckle shoes as well as her shamrock-laden pillbox hat. If she wanted to be historically accurate, Ina needed to replace the pillbox hat with a mobcap. Not that I was surprised. Even on a normal day, Ina was a walking anachronism.

“
Where’d you find that getup?”

“
I have my sources.” She wiggled her brows.

I let it go. I hoped there wasn’t a naked crafter running around the premises because Ina had swiped her dress.

She held two cups of fresh-squeezed lemonade. She handed me one. Zach half-rose to sniff my drink but snorted, returning to his bone.

“
Where’ve you been?” I asked.

“
Investigating.” She squirmed in the folding chair.

“
How did your talk with Lynette go?”

“
Just fine. She had a lot to say about the investigation.”

“
You told her you were investigating?” Lemonade sloshed onto my jeans. I grabbed a paper towel from the supply I kept under the table. Between the students’ rumors on campus and Ina’s big mouth, the whole world would know I was interested in Tess’s murder before the day was over.

“
No, I told her you were investigating, and I was helping out.”

More lemonade splashed.

“When she goes on break at one o’clock, I’m having lunch with her to talk about the case.”

I gulped the lemonade to avoid saying anything I’d regret later. My cell phone rang
. . . well, it croaked. I’d found this great frog ringtone online.

Ina looked at me curiously.
“There’s a frog in your purse.”

“
It’s my phone.” I pulled the flip phone out of my shoulder bag and looked at the caller ID. It was a Martin College number but not from the library. “Hello?”

“
Is this India Hayes?” a prim female voice asked over the line.

“
Yes.”

“
This is Deena Beaton in Provost Lepcheck’s office. The provost would like to have a meeting with you.”

“
With
me
?”

“
Yes,” she replied coolly.

“
How did you get this number?”

She sniffed as if offended.
“Your colleague from the library, Robert McNally, was gracious enough to share it with me. He said you wouldn’t mind under the circumstances.”

I’ll bet he did.

“Why does Dr. Lepcheck want to meet with me?” I tried to soften my tone. It was never a good idea to irritate the provost’s administrative assistant since she was the one who mailed the faculty contracts in the spring. There was always a chance she might misplace mine.

“
Well, umm, he didn’t say exactly.” She sounded disappointed with herself for not knowing.

“
I’m working at the Founders’ Festival today. Could I meet with him another time?”

“
Ah, yes, I remember now that Dr. Lepcheck granted you release time for that,” she said as if she disapproved of the decision, which she probably did. “Nevertheless, he needs to meet with you right away. It’s important.”

I glanced at Ina. I might as well take full advantage of the situation she’d placed me
in. I covered the mouthpiece with my hand. “Can you watch the booth for a couple of hours? I have a meeting with Lepcheck.”

Ina nodded eagerly.

“I’ll come to the office within ten minutes,” I told Deena.

Deena cleared her throat.
“The provost is not on campus today. He’d like you meet with him at his home.”

“
His home?” I asked dumbly.

“
Yes,” she said and rattled off the address and directions.

Lepcheck’s home was in one of the newer developments in Stripling, a clustering of McMansions on postage
-stamp lawns, which set my parents’ teeth on edge. The house was a large affair covered with Palladian windows and dominating the end of a cul-de-sac at the edge of the neighborhood. Construction people in bright orange hardhats broke ground just beyond Lepcheck’s home to plant more houses.

I rang the door
bell. It sounded a melodic chime deep in the house. The door was wide and arched, reminiscent of the entry to a medieval castle. Zach sat obediently at my side as we waited for the door to be answered. I’d thought about leaving him behind at the festival with Ina, but then I feared I’d return to a labradoodle covered in paint.

If I’d
expected a butler—and part of me had—I was sadly mistaken because Lepcheck opened the door. “Thank you for coming. Won’t you . . .” He stopped abruptly when he saw Zach at my side. “What is that
animal
doing here?”

I had never heard the use of the word
animal
as profanity, but Lepcheck certainly made the word sound that way in the tone he used. Zach, blissfully unaware, woofed a greeting.

“
I’m looking after Zach for Lewis Clive, Victor’s lawyer.”

Lepcheck sniffed.
“I’m well aware of who Lewis Clive is. Why did he give you, of all people, custody of this animal?”

There went the profane use of
animal
again. Seriously, Lepcheck was changing my understanding of the word. I thought for a moment before answering. Wasn’t Lepcheck fighting with his one surviving sister over Zach? Didn’t he want the dog in order to access the pooch’s wealth? You’d think he be friendlier to Zach in that case.

“
Lew’s wife is afraid of dogs, and I offered to help by taking Zach until he can find a good kennel. I have a note from him, if you would like to see it?”

He sniffed a second time.
“That won’t be necessary.”

“
Then, can we come in? You did ask me to come here, not the other way around.”

“
You may come in, but Zacchaeus may not. I have many valuable antiques. He will break them.”

What’s going to stop Zach from breaking your antiques when he lives with you? I wondered. Because didn’t the dog have to live with Lepcheck
for him to get his hands on the trust money? Debra had to be better than her insufferable brother. I hoped Debra liked dogs.

I glanced around the front yard. It was a small patch of lush green grass with the otherworldly green glow of a recent lawn service treatment visit. Sure enough, when I looked farther down the lawn, I saw one of those little white flags from the lawn company sticking out of the yard proclaiming,
“We just sprayed poison here.” They probably used different wording.

“
Either you let both of us in, or I’m leaving. Your lawn was recently sprayed with pesticides. If Zach is left out here, he could get sick.”

Lepcheck’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment I wondered if that’s exactly what he wanted to happen. Had he somehow known I had Zach with me and had the lawn sprayed, all the while plotting to make the dog ill and
/or possibly dead? But that was impossible. There was no way Lepcheck could know I had Zach with me. I gave myself a mental head slap.

“
Very well, but if that dog breaks one thing in this house, I’m holding you responsible.”

I shrugged.
“He can afford it.”

Lepcheck pursed his lips but opened the mammoth door wide enough for Zach and me to enter.

I blinked. The inside of Lepcheck’s house was almost blindingly white. The entry was highly polished white tile. I could see my reflection in it, and the walls were high-gloss white as well. The only interruption in the monochromatic decor was an occasional piece of Greek art: clay pottery painted with black figures and bronze sculptures greened with oxidation. Zach’s toenails made a soft click on the white tile, but he seemed to sense the quietness of the place and was on his best behavior. I ruffled the fur on the top of his head.

I couldn’t help but compliment Lepcheck.
“This is amazing.”

“
Thank you,” Lepcheck said with obvious pride. “I have been collecting antiquities for years. You may have seen some of the Roman collection in my office.”

I nodded although I hadn’t been in Lepcheck’s office since my job interview and hoped to keep it that way.

“My true passion is Grecian art. I especially love the Hellenistic period.” He started down the hall. “This way. Remember to keep that dog under control. I don’t want a single pedestal grazed.”

I was too mesmerized by the pottery and sculpture to reply. Lepcheck said he’d been collecting antiques for years. Did that mean these pieces were real? The last time I had seen this much Grecian art in one place, I’d be
en in a museum in Athens. Apparently by being a librarian, I’d chosen a less-profitable area of higher education.

Zach’s furry snout was on my heels.

The library was on the right side of the bright hallway and was another tribute to Greco-Roman culture. I peered at the Etruscan sword under glass.

“
Please sit,” Lepcheck said and pointed to a leather armchair. He sat in an identical armchair across from me.

Zach put his head on my knee and looked up adoringly. I could get used to his adoration
, until I remembered my half-eaten flip-flops at home.

I looked at Lepcheck closely, hoping to see some indication of grief, such as red-rimmed eyes, balled up tissues, or nervous gestures. I saw nothing. Lepcheck was cool and collected. It was like any other meeting I’
d had the displeasure of experiencing with him. He was as cool as ice—in control, and he wanted me to know it.

He cleared his throat.
“I know we’ve had our differences in the past, Ms. Hayes, but I wanted to speak with you about the small misunderstanding you witnessed between my sister and me on Thursday. You can see, due to the sensitivity of this topic, why I would not want discuss this in my office.”

I nodded, s
till confused by the fact he felt he needed to explain himself to me at all. Not that I was complaining. This meeting certainly gave me an excuse to interview Lepcheck, who was a prime suspect.

I knew Lepcheck was married. I’d met his wife at different functions at the college. She was a professor
of history, if I remembered correctly, at a rival college in Cleveland. However, from what I’d seen of their house there was no hint of a woman’s touch. It was hard for me to imagine a woman living in this space, but perhaps Mrs. Lepcheck was as austere as her husband.

As if he could read my mind, Lepcheck said,
“My wife’s teaching a semester in England. Sadly, she won’t be back for the funeral.” He crossed his legs and wrapped his hands around his knee. “She was very sorry she couldn’t make it.” By his tone, I wondered if that was true.

“
I’m sorry for your loss. Although I’d just met Tess, I liked her very much.”

Lep
check stood abruptly. “Of course, you would.” He walked to the window and stood by it. “My sister and I had little in common. We’d had our misunderstandings, but I didn’t want her to die. You may hear differently, which is why I wanted to talk to you.”

“
To me?”

“
I know my nephew thinks a lot of you. He has spoken of you often when I’ve seen him.”

“
He has?” I cringed. I hoped that Derek didn’t tell Lepcheck I was his special friend. How horrifying.

“
He was fascinated with that business last summer.”

I knew he was talking about the death of my childhood friend on campus and my part in finding her attacker.

“So putting those two clues together, it would not be a stretch for me to conclude Derek may come to you and request your assistance in finding his mother’s killer. To, how do you say, snoop.”

I didn’t confirm or deny his assumption.

“I take by your silence he’s already approached you.” He returned to his chair and sat.

“
Who would say you wanted Tess dead?”

“
Her husband for one. Possibly my other sister, Debra.”

“
Does this have anything to do with your uncle Victor’s estate?”

Lepcheck looked at Zach, who had fallen asleep at my feet. His forepaws twitched, and I wondered if he dreamt of chasing a cat. Preferably not Templeton or it would be another long night.
“If you have the dog with you, you must know of his ridiculous will. To leave everything to a dog, and, what’s worse, entrust that dog to Tess of all people.”

“
Who should he have left Zach to?”

“
Oh, I don’t care who he left the dog to. He shouldn’t have put all his money in a trust to him.”

I scowled.

“I’m not an animal hater, Ms. Hayes. My uncle had enough money to make Zacchaeus very comfortable as well as the rest of the family.”

“
Why did you think Tess shouldn’t be trusted with the dog?”

“
You met my sister. She spent her weekends hopping from art fair to art fair with her arty friends. They’re a flighty bunch. She was flighty. I’m not saying my sister wasn’t talented at her trade. She just wasn’t someone you put a lot of responsibility on. She meant well but couldn’t handle the responsibility that came with the trust.”

I was surprised at
how candid Lepcheck was being. I decided to press my luck with another question. “Why would Jerry think you killed her?”

He steepled his fingers.
“We’ve had some heated discussions over the last few months about the trust. I felt that even though she was the one in charge of the trust, she’d be reasonable. Share the money within the family. She wouldn’t. She said once the dog received his care, she’d donate a large portion the money to that co-op she was a member of. She thought Uncle Victor would approve because he’d helped start it. She could donate some of the money there of course, and it would still be more money than they could ever imagine. But they certainly did not need all of it.”

“
Was that New Day Artists Cooperative?” I asked.

“
Yes. And then, she planned to give another large portion to an animal shelter,” he almost spat out. “She said Uncle Vic would have liked that, too, because of Zacchaeus.”

Yes, clearly not an animal hater, I thought.

“What’s the name of the shelter?”

“
Hands and Paws. It’s in Uniontown.”

I knew of it. My parents
, as local champions of the underdog—in this case literally—had attended a fundraiser there in August.

“
And your sister Debra—why would she think you’d hurt Tess?”

“
Same reason. Debra knows how I feel about the will and that I planned to contest it. She was joining me on that front. She was the one who nursed Uncle Vic through his last illness, but he left her nothing.”

Debra
had just moved up my list of people I needed to talk to.

“
Are you going to go through with it?” Lepcheck asked.

His
words shook me from my thoughts. “Go through with what?”

“
Playing at gumshoe.”

“
You’re the one who invited me here, Provost, not the other way around.”

“
I’ll take that as a yes.” He stood. “My family is like any other. We have our problems. I trust you won’t spread anything you dig up around campus. That would be detrimental to
both
of our careers.”

I rose too and woke Zach in the process. He opened his eyes and woofed gently as if to ask permission to leave. Permission granted. I had no desire to stay in Lepcheck’s presence inside his cold house one second longer.

“I’ll show you out,” Lepcheck said.

As I was loading Zach into the car
, my cell phone croaked. It was Ina. “You got to get back here. Now.”

“
Why? What’s happened?”

She disconnected. Ina didn’t have a cell phone, and I called the number she used from my cell, but it rang and rang with
out response, not even voicemail.