Shadows on the Ivy (13 page)

Maggie didn’t bother to knock; despite the November chill Whitcomb House’s front door was open, and although police cars were parked outside, no crime-scene tape prevented her entrance. She walked into the familiar front hall. The house looked like a scene in a TV crime drama.

The kitchen was covered with dust—for fingerprinting, Maggie assumed—and a photographer was carefully focusing on every detail in the room. Detectives Luciani and Newton were sitting on the living room couch, bent low over a notebook on the coffee table in front of them. They probably hadn’t had much sleep lately. Newton’s hair needed combing, and Luciani looked as though he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days.

Yesterday morning they were in my kitchen, Maggie thought. Yesterday was a long time ago.

“Professor Summer?” Luciani looked up from his seat on the couch. He got up quickly and walked toward her. “What are you doing here?”

“The students asked me to come. I’m their adviser.”

“We don’t need any more people in this house,” he said, backing her against the wall in the hallway. “There are already enough fingerprints in here to keep the FBI busy for weeks.”

“Not quite,” Newton said from the living room. “And you’re on the list of people we need to talk to. Since you’re here, you might as well stay. But come into the living room, please.”

Luciani backed up, watching Maggie closely. She stepped by him. “Where are the students? And the children?”

“Upstairs. We had them take the kids and get them dressed and calmed down. And away from the porch and kitchen. We’ve searched the upstairs already.”

“I’d like to see them.” Maggie heard footsteps upstairs. How were they all coping?

“In a few minutes.” Newton gestured for Maggie to sit on the couch in the spot recently vacated by Luciani. The binder on the table was closed, but Newton had her small black notebook out and pencil poised. Luciani sat on the chair opposite her.

Maggie’d sat in that room on so many Monday evenings, enjoying the chaos and joy of the six adults and six children who lived here. This Tuesday morning the blocks and dolls and trucks piled in the corner were untouched. The television was off. No music from upstairs broke the silence. Whitcomb House had always felt so full of life and laughter. Now, with two of the young women gone, it seemed ghostlike. Although Sarah wasn’t really gone, Maggie corrected herself. Sarah would be back. She hoped.

“I know we talked with you yesterday morning, but that investigation centered on Sarah Anderson.” Detective Newton’s question brought her back to the moment.

Maggie nodded.

“I assume that you’ve already heard we’re here in response to a call from the residents reporting the death of Tiffany Douglass.”

“Kayla called to let me know.”

“Because you’re their adviser.”

“And, I hope, also their friend.” They could use friends this week, Maggie thought. A lot of friends.

“You told us yesterday what you knew about Sarah Anderson. Could you tell us something about Tiffany Douglass? Or anything that might help us see if there’s a link between the crimes?”

“It’s definite, then, that Tiffany was murdered?”

The detectives looked at each other. Luciani shrugged. “We’ll know for certain after the medical examiner has taken a look at her. But the dark stains on her lips and mouth and the vomit make it look like some, possibly caustic, substance was involved.” He hesitated. “I’m sorry. I’m tired. I’d appreciate your not sharing that information. It isn’t official in any case. Not until the medical examiner has seen her.”

“The students are pretty sharp. They seem to have figured it out even before we got here,” Newton said.

“Of course, they were probably thinking of Sarah, too. Two young women poisoned in two days…are any of the other students in danger?” Maggie had to ask.

Newton didn’t smile. “We don’t know. At the moment everyone here is a suspect, and anything is possible. Have there been any threats to Whitcomb House or its residents that you’ve heard? From inside the house or outside?”

Maggie shook her head. “Never. In fact, the house has gotten some very positive publicity and, so far as I know, has been accepted by the campus community and the town itself. Everyone who lived here seemed to get along.”

“What about President Hagfield? Has he had any negative feedback about the house?”

“You’d have to ask him. I don’t know of any.” The only negative comments Maggie had heard about Whitcomb House had come from Max himself, this morning. The police could find that out themselves.

“We understand the two victims shared a suite here with their children. We’re assuming they were close friends. They might also have shared thoughts? Shared acquaintances?”

“You’ll have to ask the other students about that. I do know they met before they came to Somerset College. They shared an apartment last summer. So they certainly knew each other. How many confidences or friends they shared, I don’t know.” Sarah was so quiet, Maggie thought. So different from Tiffany. And Tiffany wasn’t around that much. What had Tiffany been doing?

“They came from different parts of New Jersey,” continued Newton. She stretched a bit, pulling down her navy jacket. Dark circles were under her eyes.

Being a detective is a rough job, thought Maggie sympathetically. She told them what she knew. “Tiffany used to live in South Jersey. Outside of Atlantic City somewhere. She worked at a grocery store, I think she said, and the chain transferred her up here.” She paused. “Sarah might know more, of course.”

“If—when—she comes out of her coma, we’ll be sure to talk with her. But in the meantime, any information you have would be helpful.” There was a small crash upstairs and a child’s wail. Detective Newton listened for a moment and smiled. “Six children living here with their parents! There must be some interesting days. I have trouble coping with one husband and one child.”

Detective Luciani looked at her as though she had just mentioned landing on the moon. “We’ve got work to do. Today.”

Maggie continued, “Tiffany lived here, and she was in one of my classes, but I didn’t know her as well as I do some of the other Whitcomb House residents. She seemed to have an active life, many friends. She wasn’t always here.” Or in class, Maggie added to herself.

“Do you know any of her friends? Outside Whitcomb House.”

“No, I don’t.”

“She has a little boy.”

“Tyler is two.”

“And his father? Do you know anything about him?”

“No,” Maggie started. And then she remembered what Tiffany had said yesterday afternoon. “I believe he worked with her, or maybe he was her boss, at the supermarket where she worked in South Jersey. She told me he was married, and that she was asking him for child support for Tyler.” She had said suing him, actually.

“Was that a problem?”

“I don’t know. Just yesterday she told me she had a lawyer. Located in Princeton, she said.”

“Do you know the name of Tyler’s father, or of Tiffany’s lawyer?”

“She didn’t say.” Tiffany had suggested Sarah should ask for child support, too, thought Maggie.

“So you talked with Tiffany Douglass yesterday?”

“She made an appointment to see me at my office yesterday afternoon. You could check with my secretary, Claudia Hall, at the college. I think it was four o’clock.”

“She came to the appointment on time?”

“Yes. She was upset about Sarah’s illness. She talked about Sarah during most of the time she was with me.”

“Did she seem concerned for her own safety?”

“No. Nothing like that. She was just worried about Sarah. And about Aura. She didn’t indicate any concern for herself.”

“So she didn’t seem to think whatever had happened to Sarah would happen to her?”

“She never even hinted at that. And she had no ideas about who might have wanted to hurt Sarah. Tiffany seemed very capable of taking care of herself, not worried or afraid.” Unlike Kayla, on the telephone this morning, or Maria, who had been talking about leaving Whitcomb House and going home. Maggie needed to talk with them both. And with Heather and Kendall, too. “I really don’t have anything else to tell you. May I go and talk with the students now, please?” Maggie looked at her watch. Almost seven-thirty. “Most of them have classes this morning, and they need to get the children to day care.” Kayla was looking after Aura, but that was, they all hoped, a temporary situation. Who would watch Tyler now? What would happen to him? Would his married father from South Jersey get involved? Not likely.

Maggie found the four remaining adult occupants of Whitcomb House sitting on the second floor near the top of the stairs, clearly listening to what was happening downstairs. She looked around. “Where are the children?”

“A miracle. They’re all asleep in Kayla’s room. The past two days have been exhausting, and with all the excitement today they were up early,” Maria said. Maggie wondered whether she wore her nose ring twenty-four hours a day. It was in place this morning.

“That
is
a miracle. How are they coping?”

“Tyler is too little to understand about his mom; Aura’s taking it pretty hard. Her mother not here, and then finding Tiffany this morning. Mikey fell asleep out of pure exhaustion. He’s been asking questions nonstop since yesterday. Same for Katie. The two little ones probably won’t sleep for long. They know something’s different; they can sense how we’re reacting to everything, but they don’t understand enough of what’s happening to be upset about anything specific,” Kayla said.

“What
is
happening, Professor Summer?” Kendall asked. “Are we in danger? Are the kids? Who’s doing this?”

“We’ve already decided not to leave here today,” said Maria. “Not even to take the kids to day care or go to classes. We feel safe here. The police are in and out. And we trust each other.”

Kayla nodded.

Maggie sighed. “One day probably won’t make a difference to your grades or classes. Certainly your teachers will understand. If they don’t, you come and see me. But you can’t hide here forever.” And you’re all suspects, too, she added to herself. Maybe Whitcomb House is the most dangerous place of all.

“We’ve been trying to put it together,” said Kayla. “Trying to think of anyone who really hated Sarah, or Tiffany, or both of them. Trying to figure out why they were poisoned.”

“If they were poisoned,” said Kendall.

“We know Sarah was,” said Heather. “And that dark color on Tiffany’s lips, and on her sweater…I’m sure she was poisoned, too, but she threw up some of it.”

“Why didn’t I hear her? I usually hear when someone comes in. If she had called for help, I’d have come.” Kendall paced the small upstairs hall. “I’m a light sleeper. Anyone with a baby is. I heard the kitchen door open around two this morning. I assumed Tiffany was coming in—she comes in late all the time. I didn’t hear anything more, so I fell back to sleep.”

“Kendall, you heard the door close at about two. And you and Kayla found Tiffany at about three-thirty, after Aura started crying, right?” Maggie wanted to make sure she had the time sequence correct.

Kendall nodded and sat down on the floor again with the others.

Kayla put her hand on his. “It’s all right, Kendall. She came in late so many nights. How could you have known this time she was in trouble?”

“Tiffany was always trouble,” said Maria. “That would have been nothing new.”

Maggie sat on the top step. “Why was Tiffany trouble?”

The residents looked at each other, waiting for one of them to say something.

“I know Tiffany skipped classes sometimes. I know she missed about half our Monday-night meetings.” Maggie took a guess: “I assumed she had a pretty active social life.”

“If that’s what you want to call it,” said Kayla.

“What do you mean?”

“We might as well tell her what we know. It doesn’t matter anymore. We’ve covered up for her enough times.” Kayla looked at the others, some of whom slowly nodded. “It might make a difference for us, or for Sarah. We’ve got to let people know!”

“Know what?” Maggie asked.

“Tiffany had friends,” said Kayla. “Older, male friends. She used to get telephone calls from a man who wouldn’t leave his name. He’d just say, ‘Tiffany will know who this is.’”

“Usually the calls were telling her to be someplace, at some time,” Maria said. “Usually at night.”

Maggie listened. “Was she a call girl? Is that what you’re saying?”

Maria shook her head. “I don’t think so. Nothing that organized. There was only one man—well, maybe two men—who called. And she did go out several evenings every week. As I say it, that might sound like she had a pimp. But she didn’t seem to have a lot of money or anything. And although she wore makeup and dressed up a bit, she didn’t look…well, not like a hooker, anyway. Or at least not what I think of as a hooker. I’ve never known one.”

“I asked her about the calls once. She said she was making a life for herself and Tyler. That she was investing for the future,” Heather said.

“‘Investing for her future’? It didn’t look as though she was dating a stockbroker or anything,” said Kendall. “Whoever this guy was, he wasn’t giving her advice on the market. Although he did give her that fancy briefcase she carried her school papers in. Like she thought she was an executive or something!”

“That’s all I ever saw that he gave her,” said Kayla. “Pretty weird gift from a guy, if you ask me. Why not give her jewelry, or even a nice pocketbook? And there’s something else.” Kayla paused. “I saw her in the bathroom once…Katie opened the door, the way little kids do, and Tiffany was in the shower. She had bad bruises on her wrists and legs and back. Not on any part you’d see. But those bruises were dark.”

“Did you ask her about them?” Maggie said. “Did she say she was being abused?”

“She yelled at me to shut the door fast. I asked her later, but she said nothing was wrong; she wasn’t hurt, and it was none of my business. She said it was ‘just part of the deal’ and she was taking care of it.”

“Didn’t sound like a deal she should be making,” said Kendall. “We all watched out for her. Tiffany was a big woman. She looked like she could take care of herself. But sometimes she didn’t think things through all the way. We were scared someday she’d get herself in big trouble. And now…”

“You all knew she was being abused?”

All four of them nodded.

“I couldn’t keep that a secret,” Kayla said. “I was worried about her, so I told everyone else. I thought if we all knew what to look out for, maybe we could find out what was happening. And stop it.”

“None of you know who this man, or men, was?”

“She used to be picked up in a black car,” Maria said. “A big black car. I saw it once down at the corner. Tiffany walked in that direction, looked around, and then got in.”

“I saw her get in a black car once, too, over on the other side of campus,” Heather said. “But I couldn’t see who was in it.”

“What model car was it? Did either of you get a license plate number?” Maggie asked.

They shook their heads. “We were concerned, but we weren’t playing detective or anything, Professor Summer. We didn’t know she was going to be killed. We just thought she was dating someone who was rough.”

“And probably married,” said Maria. “I asked her why she didn’t bring him here for dinner sometime, the way the rest of us do if we’ve gone out with someone a few times. She said she couldn’t; he had other commitments. I figured he had a wife.”

Maggie suddenly thought of something. “You said you thought she’d been poisoned because of the dark marks on her mouth and on her shirt…were the stains wet or dry?”

Kayla answered. “They were dry, I think. It looked like it was dark vomit. Sort of grainy. I didn’t touch it though.” She shuddered.

“I agree; the stains looked dry,” said Kendall. “Nothing was dripping.”

“Then she probably came in at two, when you heard her, and fell to the floor, already poisoned. She wasn’t poisoned here. It happened too fast.” Maggie couldn’t believe Tiffany had been poisoned by anyone at Whitcomb House, although clearly the detectives were exploring that possibility.

“I would have heard her if she’d fallen,” said Kendall. “I’ve been thinking about that. She is—was—a big woman. I heard the door shut. If she was well enough to close the door, could she have gotten sick that fast, to have collapsed right inside the door?”

Clearly they’d already discussed this. The others were nodding.

“We’re pretty sure,” Kayla said, “that someone killed her somewhere else, and then opened the door, maybe with her key, and left her there on the floor. Left her dead.”

They sat in silence.

“Where were all of you last night?” asked Maggie quietly.

“You think one of us poisoned Tiffany?” said Kayla. “How could you think that?”

“I don’t,” said Maggie. “But the police are going to ask.”

“Tiffany left at about eight last night,” said Kendall. “The rest of us were here all evening. We can vouch for each other.”

They nodded, around the circle.

“I believe you,” said Maggie. “I just needed to hear you say it.”

“There’s something else,” Maria said quietly. “I don’t know who Tiffany’s lover was, but I think she was blackmailing him.