A Little Class on Murder (30 page)

They found a place in the last row. The church was full. Burke had evidently had many friends from all walks of life, who had come to pay their last respects. The faculty sat together in the row behind President Markham and Miss Dora.

During the sermon, the minister offered this tribute: “R.T. Burke was a man of honor, a man devoted to his profession, seeing in it the opportunity of serving his fellow men, his state, his country, and his God. He saw the profession of journalism as a noble endeavor, the earnest effort to protect freedom and democracy by providing to the citizens in a fair, honest, and decent manner the information necessary to conduct their lives. He valued fairness and he treasured the truth. He began this life …”

There were six eulogies by newspapermen who had worked for Burke. At the service’s end, there was scarcely a dry eye as the attendees filed out. Except for members of Burke’s faculty. Annie watched them pass, their faces impassive, and knew there were no mourners among them.

Outside, Max tugged at Annie’s arm, then nodded toward Moss, his wife, and Kelly, who were surrounded by a group of well-dressed men.

They drifted close enough to hear Moss invite a number of the state publishers to join him and Mrs. Moss and Kelly at the Faculty Club for lunch, after the drive to the cemetery.

As they walked back to Max’s car, Annie murmured, “The king is dead. Long live the king.”

The Student Union wasn’t Max’s pick for lunch, but Annie finally persuaded him. No one would bother them. They could eat, then organize their thoughts until it was time for Emily Everett’s funeral. Charlotte Porter’s memorial service was, of course, to be private.

The lunch was not memorable. Max poked unhappily at a square slab of fish with a ratty slice of orange as a decoration. Annie forbore to point out that anyone who ordered fish in a school cafeteria deserved what they got. She, of course, opted for a burrito, chili, and a root beer. Max averted his eyes.

It was a fine place to spread out their papers, however. They settled down with coffee, not Kona, and, with only occasional bickering, got to work.

About two, Annie lifted her head and looked at Max uneasily. “What do you suppose they’re—”

But Max reached out, placed a cautionary finger on her lips, and murmured, “It isn’t that I believe in genies but let’s just not talk about them. They’re silent, quiescent, perhaps spirited away to another plane.”

It was almost two-thirty when they finished. Annie looked at their efforts with pride, then they reread the report together.

1.
MALCOLM MOSS
. To gain the chairmanship of the department. Or Moss could have leaked the confidential information to Kelly and killed Burke to escape disclosure. Why would Moss reveal the contents of the files? To cause difficulty in the department, embarrass Burke.

2.
VICTOR GARRISON
. To regain control of the department, stymie Burke’s effort to switch the emphasis from the academic to the professional. Or, if he leaked the confidential information to Kelly and Burke discovered it, to prevent disclosure.

3.
SUE TARRANT
. To protect Frank Crandall’s job, because she is in love with him and would do anything to keep him on
the faculty. Unlikely to be Deep Throat as continued revelations could only harm Crandall. Might attack Burke in a fury if convinced he had engineered the leak.

4.
JOSH NORDEN
. To revenge Charlotte Porter’s death, if he decided Burke provided Kelly with the information about her embezzlement. Or in an angry frenzy because Burke refused to announce the reasons behind Porter’s theft.

5.
FRANK CRANDALL.
To prevent disclosures about his personal life if he thought Burke was Kelly’s informant. Or in anger because Burke made it clear there was no likelihood of tenure on account of Crandall’s involvement with a student.

6.
KURT DIGGS
. Because Burke threatened his pressure on coeds for sex. Or because Burke discovered Diggs was Kelly’s informant. But pushing Burke’s problems with the faculty, including Diggs, into public discussion should be the last thing Diggs would want. However, interesting to note that the informant had nothing to say about Diggs in the meeting with Kelly and never showed up for a second meeting, at which, presumably, more dirty linen would have been aired.

7.
EMILY EVERETT
. To avenge the death of Charlotte Porter, if Emily thought Burke was responsible for the revelations. Emily, despite access to the closet key, could not be suspected of leaking the information, because she, like Josh Norden, would never intentionally have harmed Charlotte Porter.

There was no crowd at the Baptist Student Center for Emily’s funeral. No more than a half-dozen students gathered. Josh Norden was the only faculty member there. Sudden tears pricked Annie’s eyes when she saw Laurel approach the closed casket with a delicate spray of white roses and baby’s breath.

The youth minister, Joe Bill Hankins, spoke quietly, recalling Emily’s hard work, her determined efforts to gain an education, her hopes of becoming a reporter. There were no stories here of friendship or love. But, at the end of his eulogy, he said hopefully, “Emily seemed happier these last few weeks than I can ever remember, and we can hold that memory to us, and find solace in it, that Emily in her last few weeks had a kind of bloom about her. And we thank God for that.”

It was almost closing time when they reached Death on Demand. Agatha was aloof. Only a single visit on Sunday and neither sight nor sound of Annie until after dark on Monday was absolutely beyond excuse. She didn’t even come back to the coffee bar (of course, Ingrid always overfed the beast) until Annie opened a can of salmon. Finally, after Annie had called cajolingly, Agatha strolled slowly into view, surveyed her dish, and emitted a grudging purr.

With mugs (Annie chose
Whose Body?
and Max selected
Murder at School)
of freshly made Kona coffee, they spread their papers on the table nearest the coffee bar. Agatha leapt smoothly to the tabletop and settled to watch. Annie reached out to pet her and was rewarded with a flick of claws. The lack of attention had yet to be forgiven. They worked in silence broken only by the irritated swish of Agatha’s tail, then exchanged their efforts, Annie handing Max her conclusions on Burke’s murder and Max giving her his judgments on the explosion.

1. Moss, at least for the moment, has the chairmanship.

2. Garrison will probably keep intact the present program of the department, because he will have Moss’s support.

3. Tarrant will still have the opportunity to see Crandall because Moss will probably support his efforts to win tenure.

4. Norden. No definite result, unless it means he can win approval from Moss for the full story on Porter to be released.

5. Crandall may win tenure.

6. Diggs won’t face, from Moss, pressures to change his lifestyle.

7. Everett. No gain.

1. Moss—Although he claimed he would enjoy a public discussion of department differences, he might have feared Burke’s position would be strengthened if the faculty were pictured as obstructionist in the exposé.

2. Garrison—Infuriated by student editor’s admittance to faculty meeting.

3. Tarrant—To prevent further disclosures about the faculty, especially Crandall.

4. Norden—To avenge Charlotte Porter.

5. Crandall—To protect his job.

6. Diggs—Ditto.

7. Everett—To revenge Charlotte Porter.

1. Emily Everett killed. Was Brad Kelly the intended victim? Was he lucky and Emily unlucky? Could Emily have been the intended victim? Could Emily have intended to destroy
The Crier
herself and been a casualty of her own design? Or could Emily have intended to be blown up with
The Crier?

2. No publication for a period of several weeks. Therefore, no further exposés, but the press, once alerted, is probably seeking information at the present moment. The story certainly won’t die.

3. Kelly is under police protection and surfacing only long enough to reveal the story behind the exposé. He is receiving quite a bit of attention from the press.

The phone was ringing when Annie and Max left Death on Demand to go to dinner at the country club. Annie fretted over who the call might have been from. Max merely said, “You can’t imagine?” That did seem to answer the question, so she relaxed and enjoyed her fried scallops, insisting that they had no more fat than Max’s with a cream sauce.

The phone was ringing as they unlocked the front door to the tree house. Annie, of course, sprinted for it.

8:46
P.M
. Monday
: “Moss took that young whippersnapper, Kelly, to lunch at the Faculty Club, along with a half-dozen of the state’s most prominent publishers. I was invited, of course. From a newspaper family.” Miss Dora paused, then admitted reluctantly, “Young Kelly handles himself well. On the other side of the fence from me when it comes to ethics. Shame to see grown men fawn over him.” She gave an irritated sniff. “Well, time for a report. I do assume you have not frittered away your weekend. Who is the depraved creature who revealed that highly confidential information to that young idiot?”

Annie handed the phone to Max. “Your client, my love. Wants to know what the hell we’ve figured out.”

Max approached the telephone with all the enthusiasm of a Jim Thompson addict being presented with a crate full of Dorothy Gilman novels.

Annie propped her feet on the coffee table and sank back against a stack of soft cushions. But she had to hand it to Max. He was as suave as Sir Percy Blakeney, a/k/a the Scarlet Pimpernel.

“We have almost completed our investigation.” A pause. “Certainly, but we must tally up all the facts first. When? When?” He looked desperately at Annie, then made the plunge. “In the morning. We will make our final report in the morning.”

It was exceedingly quiet after he hung up. He avoided Annie’s eyes. “Well, dammit,” he said, gesturing at the stack of paperwork they’d dropped on the coffee table as they came in, “what else is there to know? Annie, the answer has to be there. Now, come on. I’m not going to admit to that old harridan that we can’t figure it out.” He looked at Annie accusingly. “You’ve read more mysteries than H. R. F. Keating. Who did it?”

They reread their notes, studied the timetable, and analyzed the suspects: what they were like, what they would do and would not do. But at midnight they finally turned in, exhausted and thwarted, no solution in view. As Max turned
off the light, he said wearily, “Maybe inspiration will strike in the morning.”

It was impossible to sleep. Annie twisted and turned and then lay resentfully listening to Max’s even, regular,
relaxed
breathing. How could he sleep? Why couldn’t they figure it out? Sleep did come finally, that on-the-edge, skittery kind of sleep when every nerve is tensed and the mind races, image piling on image: Burke’s choleric face when he railed against guttersniping journalism the day they’d met; tears streaming down Josh Norden’s cheeks but suddenly the face was Emily’s, red and gross and swollen; Brad Kelly looming into view through the writhing clouds of masonry dust; bloody footprints leading out of Burke’s office; Malcolm Moss’s smug half-smile and Victor Garrison’s sleek facade; Sue Tarrant’s passionate defense of Frank Crandall; Kurt Diggs’s sardonic appraisal of Burke.

Fragments of the phone calls rippled in her mind, too, a sentence here and there, Laurel’s husky voice, Miss Dora’s irascible tone, Henny’s crisp accent. The three had retrieved bits and pieces, odds and ends, like silky black feathered crows, keen eyes noting the smallest vestige of movement.

Smallest vestige of movement …

Annie sat bolt upright in bed.

Movement.

What had
happened
since Friday? Very damn little.

Her three most dedicated students retrieved information, little pieces here and there, but all the drama had occurred on Friday.

Why?

The luminous dial of the clock glowed in the darkness.

Time.

Why did everything happen in such a short span of time?

The explosion was the result—had to be the result—of careful preparation.

Every fact, from the snatched-up weapon to the use of Burke’s raincoat as a shield from blood, argued for haste and immediacy in Burke’s murder.

Two acts antithetical in their origin, one done with careful craft, the other a desperate response to immediate threat.

It was obvious, wasn’t it, that the bomber intended at the least to destroy the
Crier
offices and at the most to injure or kill Brad Kelly. That could have happened at any time that day.

But why did Burke die when he did? What prompted his attacker to don the coat, grab up the iron bar, and bring it crashing down upon his head?

A wavering, tremulous moan, plaintive and forlorn, wafted on the night air. Annie’s heart pumped until the
hoo-hoo
sounded again. A screech owl. Winter belongs to the owls in the low country, but knowing this did nothing to lessen the prickling at the back of Annie’s neck as the moan sounded again. Taking care not to disturb Max, she slipped out of bed.

Laurel would nod and murmur about lost souls, questing for justice. Annie, of course, was not superstitious, but she moved with brisk determination to the coffee table. Thumbing through their notes, she recreated in her mind Burke’s office as it was in the moments preceding his death. And the owl continued his mournful calls.

Burke’s office. Emily Everett’s name scrawled on his legal pad. Emily Everett arriving at the journalism building, her face swollen from hours of crying. Emily lumbering heavily down the hall to the
Crier
offices.

A bombing already planned. A murder committed in haste.

“Oh my God. Of course,” she said aloud. She knew the identity of the killer now, the necessity for murder. She knew why vicious blows rained down on Burke’s head. She knew why Emily Everett died.