Angel Food and Devil Dogs (32 page)

Druckenmacher yelled, "Fuckin' dyke!" at me and began to lunge. I spun to the side. As the knife slashed past me, I high kicked his hand. Not only knocking the knife to the floor but breaking three of his fingers with a satisfying triple snap. He screamed and fell on his knees in agony.

Surprisingly fast for a man of his size, Arturo Murciélago made a lightning grab for the knife, scooping it up in one movement. Druckenmacher was in no condition to try to get it back.

By then, the cops were arriving. Fenchester police response time is very fast, and it didn't hurt that the police station was just a block away. I think the guys ran over. Tito Rodriguez and Jim Trexler were part of the pack that showed up. Pals from my years on the force. In fact, I rode with Tito as a partner for a while. They both took one look at me and began to chuckle.

"Officers," I said formally.

They both snorted in unison, then turned their attention to Murciélago, who patiently explained that Mr
.
Druckenmacher had punched me, then pulled a knife in a threatening manner and lunged at me, calling me a derogatory name in the process. Five or six witnesses corroborated the story, including Taylor the teenager, who kept saying
awesome
.

Under Pennsylvania's Ethnic Intimidation Law, the yelling of a minority class name during attempted murder could make this a hate crime, which would elevate the sentence. I considered that as I promised the police I'd press charges to the fullest. When all that was over, it was 5:00 PM. From my van I called Miranda Juarez, asking to come and see her.

Five minutes later I found her waiting at her foyer door in a small apartment building near the College. Work had seemed to be her whole life, but the inside of the apartment showed otherwise. Pictures of her son and daughter at all ages, her daughter's wedding, and dozens of pictures of her grandchildren were everywhere. Miranda asked if I wanted coffee. Though I did, I said no. This wasn't a social call. We sat on the couch in the living room while I told her about Connie and her Yoohoo vs. Nehi mistake.

Miranda shook her head, tsking with disdain. "It is hard to train people today, they do not take the job seriously."

That fried me. The pressure she'd put on Connie had caused a great deal of this evening's problems and I didn't need her holier secretary than thou attitude.

"Honestly Miranda, get down off your pedestal and give the kid a break. Connie's twenty and inexperienced but she takes her job and the rest of her life very seriously. If the College wanted a super-secretary they should have hired another you and paid for it." Miranda stared at me wide-eyed.

I softened my tone, "Druckenmacher's been blackmailing Connie. And Connie was tough enough to say no to Shel, though she thought it would mean losing her job and going to jail. She seems pretty brave to me, even if her efficiency level isn't all it could be."

Miranda covered her mouth and turned her face to the wall. She didn't want to hear any more but I wasn't going to let her off the hook just because she was uncomfortable. Connie had dealt with this nightmare for three days, Miranda could take it for at least five more minutes.

"Shel gave Connie two options, money or oral sex," I told Miranda, who shook her head, but didn't look up. "Less than an hour ago Druckenmacher hit me and lunged at me with a knife. He's in jail, arrested for assault and attempted assault with a deadly weapon. He will call you to post bail. He'll only get one phone call today. The caller ID will say Fenchester City Jail. DON'T ANSWER IT! Turn off your message machine. Ignore him."

I sat staring at her. Finally Miranda lifted her head. "He had not been around for a long time," she said plaintively. "Then... last week, like the bad penny, he was at my office. Very angry, very upset, demanding money. When we were married, he... there was a lot of debt. I have worked for a long time to reestablish my credit. I do not have much, but I gave him what I had. I thought he would leave me and the children alone, but the last few days, he has contacted me often, in a desperate way. I had no more to give him."

Maybe Shel Druckenmacher's drug selling sideline was getting him in trouble with a local gang, or even more likely, he owed some supplier a bundle of cash. He probably wanted money to help himself get out of town.

"Why do you put up with him?" I asked her softly.

A long moment passed before she answered, "He is not the father of my son, Enrique. He has threatened me that he will tell both my daughter and Enrique. They will not... I am afraid they will not understand."

"Miranda," I said looking directly into her eyes, "deal with this now. Conference call your son and daughter immediately and tell them. I'll bet Enrique will be relieved that Druckenmacher isn't his father."

"I don't think I..."

"Do it, Miranda. You're a strong woman. Do it now. Then he'll have nothing to hold over you." I slid the phone across the coffee table, then pushed myself up from the couch and left her apartment, clicking the door shut. Out in the silent hall I waited, crossing my fingers, listening at the door.

Miranda Juarez the super personal assistant, could set up a three-way conference call in seconds, and she did. She spoke Spanish to her two adult children, confessing her darkest secret to the dearest people in her life. Miranda's love for her children rang in her voice, but I wondered if she would be able to break the cycle of abuse she'd endured from Shel Druckenmacher all these years.

I sat in my van for a few minutes, typing notes on the
Connie, Shel and Miranda Triangle
. Then took off. It was 6:00 PM. Images of Kathryn flooded my mind.

I parked next to Kathryn's car in the Language Arts Building parking lot on College Street. It was freezing out. The air deposited a penetrating layer of frigid mist on my skin and then blew on it. On the sidewalk, I bumped into Leo Getty. Literally, he slammed into me. It was dark and he wasn't paying attention. He gasped in surprise and grabbed his chest with both hands.

"I'm terribly sorry Dr. Getty," I said as sincerely as possible, although it was his fault, he'd really whacked into me. His thick fireplug body was harder than I thought.

"Oh, um, yeah, Maggie, howya been," he said mechanically. He was wearing a dark brown down jacket that came well below his waist. With no hat, he had maraschino ears. His breath puffed clouds of steam that fogged his glasses. He'd shoved his cold hands into his pockets. Instead of gesturing with them while he talked, he moved them inside his pockets, pulling his jacket askew with each phrase he wanted to emphasize. He looked up and down the street saying absently, "This really has been a tough week hasn't it? I was just thinking about Bart and Georgia... and Carl. You gonna be at that thing for Carl tomorrow?"

"Yes, I'll be there. You?"

"Oh yeah, sure." He looked around again distractedly, making idle small talk. "Ha... I can't remember where I parked, must be up the block. I guess I'm more shook up than I thought, you know? Oh, there it is. He focused on a SUV farther along College Street. "Hey, what are you doing on Campus anyway?" He'd gotten back some of his bluff personality.

"Just checking some things. Dr. Getty, may I ask you something? Two things actually."

"Oh yeah, sure."

"First, do you remember where you went after leaving Skylar Carvelle's office on Thursday morning?"

"Thursday, Thursday." Jacket twist, jacket twist. Then with shock he recalled, "That was when Skylar was killed!"

I nodded.

"Oh, well, um I... I went back to my office and then I went home to have breakfast. You have to have a good breakfast, even if it's late, right? I had an evening meeting with the admissions staff and I decided to take a little
comp time
beforehand,
if you know what I mean
." Then he eyes widened, "Wait, you mean... you think I... whoa now, hold on." His face got as red as his ears.

"Dr. Getty please, I'm just trying to confirm where everyone was."

He paused, taking several deep breaths, steam rising in a jet from his nose. A car went up College Street. After it had gone by Leo Getty said less tightly, though his face didn't get any less red, "Uh huh, that's right. Yeah, I know, I'm sorry Maggie. I just feel bad about everything that's happened. Skylar was my friend and Carl... I really miss him... Thursday, yeah, I called my secretary about some stats we had to file with the state."

"About what time?"

"Just before I went back to the office. Maybe about 1:30."

Not really a great alibi, but if he was innocent why bother to set one up?

"Dr. Getty, I went to Hadesville High School yesterday and I found out that Carl actually was thrown out of St. Bonaventure High School, not the public High School..."

"Yeah, so? Oh, I get it. I guess I said it wrong. Yeah, I'm sorry. I was so busy with the team in those days," jacket twist, "it was hard to pay attention to other things. I stand corrected," he laughed heartily. He seemed to be itching to slap me on the back. I took a small step backward.

"Just one more thing."

"Shoot."

"You left a message on Carl's home answering machine saying you wanted to speak to him, and you asked him not to mention it to anyone else? Something about a grant? Do you remember what that was about?"

"Oh... yeah sure, it didn't have anything to do with me... Carl was trying to get a grant as part of that satellite thing and I didn't want him to mention it because, well, I didn't want him to jinx it for the College. You know how it is, sometimes you talk about something and people get all excited about it and then it doesn't come through and people get upset... truth is, I'd heard on the grapevine that Carl's grant might not work out, never know how true that kind of info is, but it's better to be safe than sorry. Geez, it's getting cold and it's way dark, huh? I better be getting home."

He smiled, said goodbye and walked across the street. I turned and headed for the Language Arts Building door, skipping up the stairs, then down the hall to room 208. The door was closed. I rapped twice and Kathryn's extraordinary voice called out, "Who is it?"

"Emily Dickinson."

Kathryn opened the door, grabbed a handful of my shirt, pulled me into the room, reached around my shoulder with her other hand and slammed the door shut. She pushed me up against it and gave me a kiss that made my toes curl. I did my best to keep up.

"So what does the Belle of Amherst have to say for herself?" asked Kathryn when we paused to catch our breath.

I recited:

Wild Nights -- Wild Nights!

Were I with thee

Wild Nights should be

Our luxury!

∞ ∞ ∞

Futile -- the Winds --

To a Heart in port --

Done with the Compass --

Done with the Chart!

∞ ∞ ∞

Rowing in Eden --

Ah, the Sea!

Might I but moor -- Tonight --

In Thee!

"Oh, very good," she laughed. She was wearing her outdoor jacket unzipped, with a dark purple sweater under it. She looked wonderful, but kind of bundled up. "I've been thinking about you all day," she said holding me by the shoulders.

"
What
have you been thinking?" I whispered in her ear. She laughed, we kissed again, this time more slowly. The dull ache below my belt was becoming more acute by the second.

"Oh Kathryn, I want..." I began passionately, but then came to my senses. I said in a reasonable voice, "I'd love to roll around on the floor with you right at this very moment, driven by desperate desire... but it's so damn cold in here! How could you stand this all afternoon? Klondike bars wouldn't melt in this room! It's colder than outside."

"Terrible isn't it? There's a timer on the building heating system, it goes down to fifty degrees on the weekends. I have a little space heater under my desk that helps. I even got quite a bit of work done, but I am so cold. I feel like I'll never thaw." Her voice became lower, "If you take me someplace warm and give me something to eat, I'll gladly do anything you want."

"Anything?"

"Mm hmm."

"Interesting dinner conversation topic... and it's your turn to choose the place."

"How about Casa Mexicana?

"I will take you there, where it is warm, and get you something to eat right now."

She grabbed her knapsack, slipped the manual for Carl's Voice Transcription program in it and we went quickly into the hall and down the stairs.

"How about taking my van and leaving your car here? My engine is warm, the heat will work right away." I leaned to whisper in her ear, "I want to be able to have you in a warm place as soon as possible, because I want to see if later you really will do anything I want."

"I'm very glad to hear
your engine is warm
, but have I placed my virtue in peril?" she said in a low voice.

"You certainly have," I growled back. "Is it safe to leave your car here overnight?" I asked looking up and down the empty street.

"It's as safe here as it is in the Hampshire parking lot. Probably safer. Campus security knows it. Hold on, I have some things I want to bring with me." She opened the hatchback of her Mini Cooper and took out a garment bag. We got into the van and I turned on the motor, cranking up the heat full blast.

"Oh that's wonderful," said Kathryn putting both hands over the warm air vent. She looked up through the windshield, "Rats, I left a light on in my office."

I could see it clearly. It was the only lighted window in the building, "I'll go turn it off," I volunteered gallantly.

"No, no, it doesn't matter, it's not dangerous. It's the wall light, not a high intensity one or anything like that. I'll call campus security and they'll turn it off." She was still looking up at the window, leaning forward slightly, with her chin tilted up, her graceful throat exposed.

"Kathryn, I'm so glad to be with you," I said spontaneously. She reached over and touched my arm, sliding her fingers up to my face. We leaned across the space between the seats and kissed deeply. We both forgot about the light in her office, which turned out to cause several serious problems later that night.