Death by Dissertation (22 page)

“That’s who he meant!” I said aloud as I slapped the paper down on the table.

Chapter Twenty

Rob looked up, startled, when my hand connected sharply with the table. “What on earth are you making so much noise about?” he asked grumpily.

I thrust the folded paper into his hands and, pointing erratically at the picture which had caught my interest, commanded, “Look at this!”

“It’s Bella,” he replied, as if to ask,
So what?

“Read the caption,” I replied.

“The lovely Miss Arabella Gordon,” Rob read aloud, “daughter of the Honorable Frank Gordon, Mayor of Houston, attended the gala benefit dinner with her steady companion, the dashing Bruce Tindall.”

Rob looked up, and together we stated, in tones of smug satisfaction, “A and B.”

“Exactly!” I said. “It wasn’t Azalea and Bella, or Azalea and Bruce, after all. I had forgotten that Bella’s name is really Arabella. I bet that’s what Charlie meant in his journal.”

“After their little visit yesterday,” Rob mused, “I figured they had to be involved somehow. But do you really think Bella was screwing around with Whitelock? Who’d want him, with a hunk like Bruce around?”

“Good point,” I responded, grinning, “but that’s supposing Bella’s interested in Bruce and vice versa.” I’d thought for some time that Bruce had to be in love with Bella, but I wondered what Rob thought.

He laughed. “Come on, Andy. Don’t tell me you’re that blind. Bruce adores her. He’s got hungry eyes. When he thinks no one’s paying any attention to him, he watches her—and I’m telling you, he’s in love with her.”

“I won’t argue that point, because I happen to agree with you. But it still doesn’t mean Bella seconds the emotion.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he said. “She’s pretty insensitive about a lot of things, but they have a feeling of intimacy about them when they’re together. They’re definitely a couple, in more ways than one. She treats him like a pet rock half the time, but she’s very possessive. Charlie needled her once, joking that he was going to seduce Bruce away from her, and she really overreacted.” Rob’s face mirrored the distaste that he had obviously felt, having witnessed the whole thing. “I didn’t think it was very funny myself, but she got downright ugly. And believe me, the woman knows how to be ugly.”

I could easily imagine it. With the brief time Bella had spent near the top of the modeling world, I didn’t have any illusions about how “nice” she had been then, in such a cutthroat business.

Acknowledging my agreement, Rob went on. “Anyway, I think there are strong motives there. If Bella was fooling around with Whitelock, and Bruce found out about it—especially if Charlie told him and taunted him with it—don’t you think Bruce is capable of knocking both of them over the head?”

“Yeah, I do. Bruce is a still-waters kind of guy. It probably takes a lot to get him angry, but once he does, I’ll bet his temper gets away from him.”

I was like that myself. I rarely got that angry, but when I did, I went a little crazy. But at least I hadn’t been trained to kill, like Bruce the former Marine.

“Lord,” Rob moaned, “how would we ever convince the police that the mayor’s daughter could be involved in a kinky sex-murder scandal?”

I snorted derisively. “Are you kidding? The papers would love it, the way they trash His Honor every other week. With the election coming up next year, he’d be out of office for sure.”

The light dawned for us both at the same time, and Rob and I looked at each other.

“My goodness,” he said, his southern drawl more pronounced than usual. “I never thought of that.”

Chilled, I considered the implications. Neither one of us, until that moment, had carried the train of thought that far, but it was the logical conclusion. “Bella makes snide remarks sometimes about her father and his political ambitions”— he apparently had his eyes on the governorship—“but she gets aggressive when anyone else says something. If Charlie threatened to expose Julian Whitelock, that could have meant big trouble for her, if her name came up.”

Rob paused briefly for thought. “But, from what we read in those journal entries, it didn’t sound as if Charlie had any real proof that Bella was involved with Whitelock. It sounded more like he was suspicious and intending to find out more. He was like a terrier—he loved to dig.”

I looked at him grimly. “Well, I guess after he confronted Whitelock, some-one just didn’t give him the chance to dig any further.”

His hand shaking, Rob took another sip of coffee. “No, they didn’t.”

I figured it was time to change the subject. “Don’t you think we ought to let Herrera know about the journal?”

He sighed. “Yeah, since I couldn’t find anything else. I know there has to be more, but where it is, I don’t know.”

Like in your bedroom upstairs, maybe?
I thought but didn’t say—though I was tempted, just to see how he would react. I still wasn’t ready to force the issue. Either he would trust me, or he wouldn’t.

Instead, I voiced a different thought, feeling stupid that it hadn’t occurred to me sooner. “Well, disks are small and not that difficult to conceal. Maybe the person who broke in on you took some.”

“You’re right,” Rob muttered in disgust. “I hadn’t even thought about that. And I’ve been so erratic lately about turning on the alarm system, anyone could’ve sneaked in while we were gone. And Charlie had so many disks, I’d never be able to tell what was missing, unless it was one of his program disks.”

I thought of something Bella had said the morning we discovered Whitelock’s body. I reminded Rob. “You remember, Bella said something about Bruce having something to do, and she kind of grinned.”

“That means Bruce was probably here breaking in, while we were on campus discovering a dead body.”

I nodded. “It would have been easy for Bruce to swipe some disks. But if he broke in then, why would they come back here so he could get a look at the tapes in my room? It doesn’t make sense.” I had another thought. “Why didn’t he just erase the other files from the hard disk?”

Rob laughed. “He couldn’t have, I imagine. Charlie had it worked so you really had to dig to get into that subdirectory to find those files, and he had some sort of protection program to keep somebody from erasing or reformatting the hard disk. You’d have to be an accomplished hacker to figure it all out. At least he trusted me with the information.”

“I don’t know how much computer experience Bruce has, but from what you’ve said, I doubt it’s enough to be able to get to those files.”

“No, I don’t think he could have.” Rob laughed again. “Maybe, if he’d stayed there long enough plugging away, but he wouldn’t have wanted to spend that kind of time. I mean, the longer he stayed, the more chance somebody would come back and catch him.”

“You’re probably right.” I groaned. “I think we’d better get it over with and call the police. The sooner we get rid of this stuff, the safer we’ll both feel. I don’t like the idea of anyone trying to break in next door again for another chance at the computer.”

“I guess,” Rob said, though he didn’t sound too happy about the prospect of dealing with Herrera again. He stood up. “I’ll call.”

The person who answered the phone at the campus police office promised to relay the message. It was around ten-thirty, and we had no idea how long it would take before we heard something from Herrera.

The phone rang ten minutes later. Rob was in the living room, reading, while I washed the dishes. I dropped my dishcloth and picked up the receiver. “Hello.” Maggie’s voice rushed into my ear. “Well, I had a visit from the campus police this morning.” She sounded a little indignant. “On a Sunday,” she added, as if I needed reminding.

“What for?” I asked.

“Herrera was here to check up on your and Rob’s alibis for the time of Whitelock’s murder.” Her voice gave evidence of her satisfaction as she continued. I would’ve loved to have been the proverbial fly on the wall, listening to that interview. I’d bet the lieutenant didn’t quite know what to do with Maggie. “I think I convinced him that both of you are in the clear.”

“Thank you,” I told her sincerely. The knowledge that she was on Rob’s side meant a lot. “Rob will be relieved to hear that.”

“Good. Oh, Herrera’s probably on the way over there now. His beeper went off while he was here, and when he called his office to check in, I heard him mention Rob’s name.”

“Yeah, Rob called to let him know about the journal entries.” I explained what Rob and I had decided about the A and B in the journals. “I expect we’ll have fun explaining why it’s taken us so long to turn over more evidence.”

Maggie laughed. “Come on, now, he’s not that bad. All things considered, he was pretty nice to me, even though he was persistent about your alibis.”

“Yeah, right. You may fall for that lilting Spanish voice, but not me.”

She laughed again. “He’s pretty gorgeous, I’ll admit. If he sorts this out soon, maybe I’ll give him a call.”

“You’re utterly shameless, you know,” I teased.

Maggie snorted in response. “Sometimes you have to be. It’s hard enough finding a decent guy.”

“Amen to that, sister!” I said fervently.

“Some people,” Maggie said, her voice dry, “are lucky enough to have one literally in the next room, however.”

“Don’t push it, okay?”

“Oh, Andy, just relax, and get over yourself.” She laughed.

“Why don’t you give us about an hour,” I went on, as if the previous exchange hadn’t happened, “then come on over. Herrera should be gone by then, and the three of us can talk over everything and see if we can figure out who done what to whom and with what sex toy.”

“Okay,” Maggie replied, still laughing. “But I think I’ll leave the sex toys to you and Rob, if you don’t mind. See you later.”

Hanging up the phone, I figured I’d be in for another lecture when she arrived. She seemed determined to play yenta for Rob and me. Oh, fabulous day. I looked up to find Rob standing in the doorway.

“Who was that?” he asked.

I explained, and he was relieved to hear that Maggie had given such a staunch alibi for both of us. I neglected to convey, however, some parts of our conversation.

“If Herrera’s on his way over,” he said, “I’ll go get the printouts and have them ready for him.” He turned to leave, and the doorbell rang.

“You go on upstairs,” I said, “and I’ll answer the door.”

Herrera was standing on the doorstep with another policeman, whom he failed to introduce.

“Morning,” Herrera responded to my invitation to enter the house. “Now, what is all this about more evidence you’ve found?” Along with his companion, he followed me into the living room as he talked. His tone of voice indicated that he was tired and irritated, but there was a note, as well, that I couldn’t quite place.

Rob came downstairs and explained to the lieutenant the circumstances of finding Charlie’s journal. “I knew he’d been keeping one, but I didn’t know what was in it. And I didn’t think about it until yesterday morning. That’s why I didn’t say anything to you before,” Rob added quickly, to forestall the criticism he thought was coming. “I really had forgotten about it.”

“Okay.” Herrera nodded. His face gave nothing away. “So now that you’ve looked it over, what does it tell us?”

Rob glanced at me, and I realized that he wanted me to take over. I explained the way Charlie’s code worked and how Rob, Maggie, and I had deciphered the entries. Herrera expressed admiration for our efforts, though again I detected irritation in his voice. By now, he was probably thoroughly tired of all this “help” from bumbling amateurs.

Suddenly I had an unsettling thought. What if Herrera thought that Rob, Maggie, and I had conspired to create these journal entries to deflect suspicion from Rob? No, he’d have to be really Machiavellian to think that. But as I watched the lieutenant’s face, I realized that he probably was that cunning. He was intelligent, and he had to consider all possibilities. And Charlie’s will made everything more complicated.

Herrera also had to consider the possibility, I reminded myself, that Rob was innocent and that the journal entries were the real thing. He would treat them seriously until he could verify the source. If he was a good cop, that is—and Rob and I had to hope like hell that he was.

But how would he do that? The little demon of doubt inside my head refused to let the questions dry up. I tried to push my worries aside and look as innocent as I knew how.

Rob and I waited in silence, while Herrera, fatigue etched in his forehead and around his eyes, read through the sheets of paper. When he looked up, I asked, “Does it help any?”

“If they’re the real thing, they might,” Herrera said.

“What do you mean, ‘real thing’?” Rob asked hotly.

“How can I be sure you two didn’t cook this up all on your own?”

“You have got to be kidding!” Rob almost shouted in disgust.

“Look, Lieutenant,” I said, trying to keep calm, “how could Rob and I have come up with something this complicated in the last day or so?”

Herrera shrugged. “You’re the academic whizbangs, not me. As far as I’m concerned, you two could do something like this as easily as I can name all the faculty on campus who don’t pay their parking tickets.”

“Geez!” I stood up and almost shouted at him. “Do you mean you’re not going to take this seriously?”

Herrera stood up and eyed me calmly. “I have to take it seriously. That’s my job. No matter what reservations I have about authenticity, I have to look at all angles.”

“Well, thank God for that!” I said, subsiding into my chair again.

Herrera gestured with the papers again. “Now, about the information in these alleged journal entries. What do they mean? Give me a quick summary.”

At a nod from Rob, I explained that we thought “A,” by itself, referred to Azalea Westover and “M” to Margaret Wilford. Then I discussed our ideas about “A and B,” saying that, upon being reminded that Bella Gordon’s real name was Arabella, we had concluded that “A and B” most likely referred to her and Bruce Tindall. I finished with the visit that Bella and Bruce had paid us the previous day, and how we suspected that he had gone snooping through my videotapes.