Catch a Falling Knife Read online

  “Elise told me she had filed a charge of sexual harassment against one of the professors,” I said, plunging in.

  He looked at me, not showing comprehension, and I wondered whether Elise had told him about the charge. Maybe Donna had given me the wrong scoop. I wondered how to extract my foot from my mouth and why I wasn’t home in my apartment reading Reader’s Digest.

  Just as I was about to retract my statement, Ted said, “First that and now this. The whole world is going to hell.”

  I hoped he wasn’t going to deliver a sermon, but he became quiet again. I said, “She also told me that she was going to withdraw the charge.”

  “Withdraw the charge? Why would she withdraw the charge? The man abused her, sullied her, dirtied her. He’s probably the one who killed her. He should be the one to die.”

  Uh oh. I had woken him up. “If she was going to withdraw the charge, maybe that meant she…she was mistaken.”

  “No, there was no mistake. She definitely wasn’t a virgin.”

  Tess and I looked at each other. What made him an expert on virgins? Unless the two of them…. I said, “I know how you feel. Marriage is a sacred union and should be treated as such.” When he didn’t respond, I said, “It must have been awful for you. How did you hear about…Elise?”

  “Mr. Hoffman called me at about 1 a.m. from her apartment. Of course I rushed right over there.”

  “Do you have a car?”

  “No, it’s only about a mile. I ran all the way. I couldn’t believe it was true. I hoped it was just a bad dream.”

  “And you had been here studying the evening before?”

  “I…you sound just like a detective.”

  Now I had really woken him up.

  “I’ll bet Detective Johnson asked you that question.”

  “Yeah. I guess I was upset that he would consider me a suspect.”

  “Did he say that you were a suspect?”

  “No. He said Dr. Pappas had probably done it.”

  “He said that to you?” Tess asked, astounded.

  “Yeah. I bet he did it, too. That guy’s a dirty…skunk.”

  I didn’t want to argue with Ted about Mark, so I said, “I heard that you and Elise were talking about getting married.”

  “Who told you that?”

  Woops. “Maybe I misheard. But you have been going together for a while, haven’t you?”

  “Since September. I…wanted to marry her, but she hadn’t agreed. Sometimes I got the idea she thought I wasn’t good enough for her. But she who casts the first stone…I was willing to take her, in spite of her transgressions.”

  Big of you. “What are you studying?”

  “Right now, liberal arts.”

  “And what do you want to do when you…graduate?” I almost said, “…when you grow up.”

  “I plan to go on to graduate school and study to be a minister.”

  Chapter 15

  Mark and I arrived at the farm early because I wanted to be present when Donna got there. At first, Mark didn’t want to go, but I gave him the old “we’re all in this together” speech and he finally acquiesced. He hadn’t seen Sandra in over a week and it was time they talked to each other.

  One of the devious reasons I had invited Donna was to attempt to strike a spark of jealousy in Sandra. If Sandra became aware of the fact that Mark had his groupies, she might value him more. I also wanted to come up with a plan of action that everybody in the family could agree on and I figured that Donna could make suggestions and would also stick up for Mark, in case Sandra or Albert had any doubts about him.

  Technically, Mark was violating the rules laid down by Burt about not talking to anybody connected with Elise, but this was a family gathering and he wouldn’t be alone with her so I had justified this meeting to myself.

  Mark drove King and me in his car. He said it was an old car and he didn’t mind getting dog smell and dog hair on the back seat. When we arrived at the farm we released King to run off with her playmate while Mark and I went into the house. I was glad to see that Mark and Sandra hugged each other, although they didn’t kiss. At least they were acting civilly. Winston was happy to see Mark and promptly asked him about his car. We busied ourselves with food preparation.

  Albert said, “Tell us about Donna.”

  “As you know, she was Elise’s roommate,” I said. “She was also the one who discovered Elise. I’m hoping she might have some information that might lead to the killer.”

  “Haven’t the police already questioned her?” Sandra asked.

  “Yes, but the detective in charge of the investigation is young and I’m not sure he’s doing a thorough job.”

  “Don’t trust anybody under 50, is that it?” Albert said.

  “Couldn’t Donna be a suspect?” Sandra asked.

  “That’s a possibility, of course, but she doesn’t seem to have a motive, except…” I looked at Mark, wondering how much I should say.

  “Except what?” Albert prompted.

  “Except that Donna appears to have a crush on Mark and she was upset when Elise filed the charge again him.”

  “That’s hardly a motive for murder,” Sandra said, coldly.

  “Probably not,” I agreed, quickly.

  Mark wisely kept silent. Perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea to talk about his groupies. Maybe getting Sandra together with Mark and Donna was a mistake. Sandra knew about Elise’s phone call to me so there wasn’t anything else we could say to convince her that the harassment charge had been false. And we certainly didn’t want her to start picturing Mark carrying on with other women.

  I decided to mention something that might be in Mark’s favor. “The Bethany paper states that the autopsy showed Elise probably hadn’t had sex before she was murdered. Since she was found without any clothes on…”

  “It still may not have been a lover’s quarrel,” Albert said. “Although the front window was broken, as I recall, indicating forced entry. But didn’t you say her boyfriend didn’t believe in sex before marriage?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then by backward reasoning, it could have been him. And he could have covered the murder by breaking the window.”

  “Here comes a car,” Sandra said.

  We watched through the large front windows as a car that had just appeared out of the woods came slowly along the meandering driveway past acres of lawn to the house.

  “That’s Donna’s car,” I said.

  I went outside to meet her and to try to prepare her for what lay ahead. She pulled to a stop beside Mark’s Toyota.

  “Your directions were great, Mrs. Morgan…or I should say Dr. Morgan,” Donna said as she got out of her car. “I only went astray once and I immediately recognized my error and turned around.”

  She wore a skirt and sweater and was dressed more formally than the rest of us. She looked wholesome, but Sandra was prettier, if a grandmother can be permitted an opinion. And Elise had been too.

  “I’m retired,” I said. “Why don’t you call me Lillian? Everybody else does.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t do that. Here, I brought some rolls.”

  “That was nice of you.” I usually baked rolls from scratch so she had infringed on my territory, but she was a guest and didn’t know any better. I led her along the narrow sidewalk to the front door, quickly going over the names and relationships of the people present. We went inside and into the kitchen, the center of activity, where I introduced her to the people she didn’t know.

  Mark formally shook hands with her, acting very professorial in front of Sandra. Albert shook hands with her and welcomed her to his home. Sandra said hello from the stove and didn’t shake hands. Winston asked her if she had new tires on her car.

  We sat down to eat at the round table just off the kitchen. With just six people it was a lot easier than carting food into the formal dining room. And that applied to getting seconds, also, which I allowed myself one meal a week. Donna got seated between Albert and Mark, mo
re or less by accident since we didn’t have place cards.

  The conversation while we ate started off as small talk. Albert asked Donna how he liked Mark’s class.

  “Dr. Pappas is great,” Donna gushed. “Advanced Physics is tough but he explains everything so clearly.”

  “I wish he’d explain it to me,” Sandra said. “I almost flunked beginning physics in college.”

  “Do you want to be a scientist?” Albert asked Donna.

  “Well, I’ve been told I have an aptitude for science. And that more women should go into it.” She paused, reflecting. “But I’d like to become a writer.”

  “What do you like to write?” Mark asked.

  “I write short stories and poetry. But if I could do what I really wanted I would be a lyricist.”

  “You mean a song lyricist?”

  “Yes. As I was telling Dr. Morgan, I wrote a bunch of songs for a musical review presented by Citrus Heights College last fall.”

  “Some of which were sung by Elise,” I said.

  “How long had you two known each other?” Albert asked.

  “Since the beginning of the last school year, when Elise was a freshman and I was a sophomore. We both lived in the dorm, but we became friends because we had common interests. And then we decided to get an apartment together for this school year.”

  “I would guess that the demand for lyricists is not great,” Sandra said, not unkindly. “I’ve written some poetry in my time and I can tell you that you can’t make a living as a poet.”

  Donna sighed. “How true. Of course it’s also difficult to make a living as a singer, but Elise sang with a rock group last summer—a Christian rock group—and was going to have the lead in our May musical. At least she was getting some recognition.”

  “Mark has written some poetry too,” Albert said.

  “Yes, but Mark can do everything,” Sandra said, “so he doesn’t count.”

  Sometimes it did seem as if Mark could do everything. “Donna brought a book of her compositions with her,” I said. I had asked her to do that. “Perhaps she can read some of them to those of us who are on dish duty.”

  Before she had a chance to do that the conversation shifted to the murder. Fortunately, we had all finished eating. Sandra told Winston to go play with his car in the family room where she could keep an eye on him but he wouldn’t follow the conversation. He sat in the plastic car, supplied car noises with his voice and power with his feet as he practiced steering and driving forward and backward. He would be asking for a real car in another few years.

  Donna retold the story of how she had found Elise. Although she had told it a few times already it was still traumatic for her and she had to pause to avoid being overcome by emotion as she recalled the events of that evening. Sandra gasped when she heard about the amount of blood on Elise and the bedclothes, Albert looked grim and Mark pressed his lips tightly together.

  “We know Mark couldn’t have done it,” Sandra said when Donna had finished. “He knows how to pick locks.” The looks she got prompted Sandra to continue, “Well, you picked the lock of the apartment of that woman at Silver Acres last year.”

  “I asked him to,” I said, quickly, “and before Donna gets the impression that she has fallen into a gang of thieves let me add that we were trying to solve another murder.”

  “Did solve another murder,” Albert said, “but remember that you said you were going to retire from being a detective.”

  I had promised with my fingers crossed, but to keep the peace I said, “All I’m doing right now is trying to help Mark.”

  “According to the newspaper accounts,” Sandra said to Donna, “you must have just missed the murderer. Elise hadn’t been dead long when you got there.”

  “No,” Donna said. Then she blurted out, “I may have seen his car.”

  We became suddenly quiet, waiting for her to say more.

  “As I went up the walk to the door of the apartment I saw…I saw a car pull away from the curb and drive away. The driver seemed to be in a hurry.”

  “Had you seen the car before?” Albert asked. “Do you know what make it was?”

  “It was dark, of course, and I didn’t get a good look, but…I don’t think I’d seen it before. It was a compact, but I’m not sure what make it was, either.”

  “Another reason it couldn’t be Mark,” Sandra said, “is because he doesn’t own a carving knife. Or any other knife, for that matter. In fact, he didn’t own much of anything when he moved in with me.”

  It sounded as if Sandra was trying to protect her turf—meaning Mark—from Donna. That was good news to me. If this kind of talk bothered Donna, she didn’t show it.

  Albert and Sandra wanted to know about other possible suspects because the papers hadn’t yet mentioned anybody as a suspect. Donna and I gave a description of Eric Hoffman. From what she said I gathered that Donna liked him. Albert didn’t wish him well since he had placed Albert’s license plate number on his website, but we couldn’t come up with any reason why he would kill his daughter, unless she had been the Shooting Star.

  I had promised Donna I wouldn’t tell Mark that Donna was the Shooting Star so I didn’t participate in the speculation about Eric Hoffman’s motive. Donna didn’t say anything, either.

  We also talked about Ted, Elise’s boyfriend. Any reason that he might have for killing her was probably connected with her virtue or lack thereof, which might in turn be connected with the harassment charge against Mark. Donna soft-pedaled this, for which I was grateful since I didn’t want to upset Sandra. But we ended up without a prime suspect.

  On that note we cleared the table and started to wash the dishes. Donna went out to her car and came back with her book of compositions. She read us several of her poems and song lyrics. I was pleased to hear that they had both rhyme and rhythm. I am not a great fan of what passes for poetry these days.

  When I commented on this, Donna said, “As I mentioned before, I think my talents are best suited to writing song lyrics. And in general they have rhyme and rhythm. I write limericks too. Here’s one…oh my God, I can’t recite this one.”

  I had seen Donna blush before like she was doing now and I guessed that the limerick was about Mark. She didn’t turn the page fast enough and Albert put his hand on it and read the poem over her shoulder.

  “It’s instructive,” Albert said. “Let me read it out loud.”

  “I’ll die,” Donna said, but somehow he took the book from her hands and read:

  A physics professor named Mark

  Had always been scared of the dark.

  Said Elise, “‘It’s not dire,

  Marky boy, light my fire.

  We’ll banish the dark with my spark.

  Everybody looked uncomfortable, so I said, to cover the silence, “Why did you use Elise’s name?” before I realized I probably shouldn’t have said anything.

  “Because ‘Donna’ wouldn’t scan,” Sandra said, dryly.

  Donna recovered her composure enough to say, “Elise was always saying, ‘Dr. Pappas this, Dr. Pappas that,’ as if she owned him. After all, I was taking a course from him too.”

  “Do all of your students go bonkers over you?” Sandra asked Mark.

  “Only the smart ones,” Mark said.

  ***

  Elise’s funeral was Monday. Although I wanted to talk to her father, and her mother, if possible, this wasn’t the day to do so. I didn’t go to the funeral. Since I wasn’t a friend of Elise or her family, I didn’t think it would be appropriate. Mark didn’t go, either; Burt Brown had specifically told him not to.

  I read a number of poems that I had copied, with Donna’s permission, from her book. Albert had recently purchased a new-fangled printer for his home computer that also acted as a copier and a fax machine so I made the copies on that. One of the poems went like this:

  Each morning you wake with a smile.

  Love came; soon you’ll walk down the aisle.

  In school you
excel,

  Show business, as well.

  Egad! You’re becoming a trial.

  I suspected that Donna had written this poem for Elise, although it had no heading. However, it seemed to fit her. I assumed it was written tongue-in-cheek. The one thing that puzzled me was the use of the word, “egad,” a word that my grandfather might have used.

  I stared at the poem for a while and then figured out what Donna was doing. When Tess came by to go to pool aerobics class with me I showed her the poem, saying, “Here’s a test for you, Tess. A test for Tess. Look at this poem, which was written by Elise’s roommate, Donna, and tell me how we could tell she wrote it for Elise, assuming we didn’t know anything about her.”

  “Lil, you know I can’t do puzzles,” Tess complained.

  “At least it’s not a math puzzle,” I said, knowing that Tess hated math puzzles. “It’s a word puzzle. Word puzzles are not my strong suit, but I figured it out so you should be able to.”

  “Why do you always have to be so competitive? All right, I’ll look at it.”

  Tess read the poem and said, “If I’m not mistaken, that’s a limerick. But in limericks the third and fourth lines are usually indented.”

  “Clue number one.”

  “And a college student doesn’t say ‘egad.’”

  “Clue number two.”

  Tess looked at the poem some more, complaining all the while. Finally, she said, “All right, I get it. If you say the first letter of each line you spell Elise.”

  “Brilliant. Go to the head of the class.”

  “Now tell me what is so important about this discovery.”

  “It tells us that Donna is clever. She’s not only smart, which we already knew, she’s also clever.”

  “Most college students are smart. And I’m not sure what the distinction is between smart and clever.”

  “Maybe it has something to do with guile. There’s more to Donna than appears on the surface. Here’s another poem Donna wrote.” We studied the poem, which read as follows:

  Will I shoot seven or eleven?

  Will I find a jewel that gleams?

  Will you lend your wand to me