The Professor's Predicament Read online

  "Absolutely. I'll be right back. I just want get out of this suit," Blaine said, kissing her on the cheek and heading for the stairs.

  After the dogs were fed, and dinner was on the table, they sat down to eat. Kat heaped a helping of salad onto Blaine's plate, followed by her own. "Blaine, how is Ryan holding up? Think he can get his self-confidence back with that case you told me about?"

  "Well, I told you that he was pretty down in the dumps after Judge Dickerson removed him from the Cameron Baker case," replied Blaine. "The fact that the judge was murdered later that day and the media insinuated that both of us might be suspects didn't help matters much. But I think Ryan's self-confidence is slowly returning. The fraud case I gave him looks like a slam dunk, so he should have a good victory that will take the sting away from the Dickerson debacle. But enough about Ryan. How was your day?"

  She told him about Lacie and how the sorority was reacting to the murder of Courtney Adams. She tried to keep her voice neutral as she told him, but it was difficult. Her emotions were still running high at the thought of a glut of armed students on campus.

  "Kat, there's really not much you can do about this. Lacie is one of most level-headed people I know, and whatever happens, she won't be acting from a knee-jerk position. I think your offer to get her a gun and have an expert instruct her on how to use it was good. She knows you're there for her even if you don't believe in how the sorority is handling this. By the way, I have to tell you, I couldn't agree more with you. I think they're really jumping the gun on this and may regret it. No pun intended. So, what else happened today?"

  Kat paused, thinking back to how distraught Deborah was during her visit and wondering how she should bring the subject up with Blaine, since he'd been pretty clear about his reluctance to see her get involved.

  She decided to just tell him the truth. "Blaine, you know how you warned me not to get involved in the Courtney Adams murder?"

  "Uh oh, I don't think I like the sound of this," said Blaine, cocking an eyebrow at his wife. He waited expectantly for her to continue.

  "Well, Deborah White came by today. She was a complete physical and mental wreck. The police had interrogated her husband, Geoffrey, earlier in the day at their house, and after they left she came here and asked me to help find out who killed Courtney."

  Kat looked Blaine in the eye. "I've told you how Deborah was so helpful to me when I needed some information in the Judge Dickerson case. She's the expert who educated me on computer pornography, why people watch it, and why others choose to take part in it. Blaine, I think I owe it to her to return the favor in whatever way I can."

  "I can hardly fault you for that, Kat. I assume you'll probably call Nick for some help?"

  "I was hoping you'd understand, and I already have," Kat said with a smile. "I spoke with him earlier this afternoon. He told me Courtney was stabbed with some kind of a strange type of knife. It wasn't something the forensics crew immediately recognized. It's still a bit of a mystery at this point."

  Just then Kat's cellphone rang. She glanced at the caller ID--it was Nick.

  "Speak of the devil. Excuse me, Blaine, it's Nick. I'll be right back. Help yourself to seconds. There's plenty of everything."

  She stepped into the hallway outside of the kitchen and answered the phone. "Hi, Nick. How's your evening going?"

  "Hey there, Kat, I hope I'm not interrupting your dinner," he responded.

  "Not to worry, I'd just finished eating."

  "Well, I didn't find anything incriminating on Deborah. She seems to have a squeaky-clean record. I didn't find any rumors of her running around on her husband. The report on her is that she follows a pretty straight and narrow path, which kind of amuses me, given her position as head of the Department of Sex Therapy."

  "I don't think anyone would accuse her of being a hypocrite," Kat said. "How about Courtney Adams? Were you able to find out anything about her?"

  "Yeah, in fact, I even found a possible suspect. She's been dating a boy named Dylan Roberts. They grew up in the same hometown in Western Kansas and were high school sweethearts. They came to the university in Lindsay together and were apparently pretty serious, talking marriage and all, until recently. Word has it that Courtney got really involved in her creative writing class, and that the professor who teaches that class was always giving her special assignments."

  "Who told you that?" Kat asked.

  "I can't reveal my sources, but here's the kicker. Dylan told several of his friends about the problems he'd been having with Courtney. The person I talked to said Dylan blamed the professor for causing problems between Courtney and him. My source also happened to mention that Dylan played video games constantly and particularly liked the one called 'The Perfect Murder.'"

  "I've never heard of it," Kat said, "but the name strikes me as being somewhat sinister."

  "In a nutshell it's a game where the player or a team of players construct the perfect murder. If they can get away without getting caught, they win the game."

  "Good grief, with entertainment like that, no wonder there's so much violence in the world," Kat said, shaking her head.

  "Let's hope he kept his homicidal fantasies confined to the video game," Nick said.

  "What did you find out about Geoffrey White?"

  Nick reiterated what Kat had heard about Professor White's reputation for choosing a different young woman each semester for special assignments, and how it seemed to be common knowledge that those special assignments usually led to his having an affair with the coed he'd selected.

  "I checked with the motel south of town that you mentioned was on the receipt his wife, Deborah, had found in his jeans pocket," Nick said. "One of the women who works in housekeeping identified Geoffrey's picture and said she'd seen him there a lot, usually two or three times a week. She didn't know his name, but she laughed and said that he was such a good customer the manager had given him a discount rate.

  "Apparently, everybody at the motel knew what he was up to. The maid heard him check in one time, saying he was there on business. She laughed and told me it was monkey business, not real business, that regularly brought him to the motel."

  "It just amazes me that Geoffrey White thought he could get away with that kind of behavior. I think it shows a tremendous amount of arrogance. I wonder if he even gave his wife a second thought while he was carrying out his special assignments. I'd be totally humiliated if I was in her shoes," Kat said, feeling sorry for Deborah all over again.

  Nick gave Kat an on-campus address for Dylan Roberts and then added, "Listen, I found out something else you should know. Another name kept coming up today, a woman by the name of Dr. Jodie Morris. She's one of Geoffrey White's colleagues in the English Department, and word has it that she had an affair with him as well. He recently broke the affair off and told her he didn't want to see her anymore. You might want to keep her in mind while you're looking into this. You know the expression, hell hath no fury . . ."

  "Thanks, Nick. Sounds like Geoffrey was a busy guy. As always, I appreciate everything you do."

  "No problem. Give me a call if you need anything else. And tell my brother I said hello."

  Kat returned to the dinner table and recounted to Blaine everything that Nick had just told her about the case. When she was finishing up about the professor named Jodie Morris, Nick's number popped up again on her cellphone's caller ID.

  "Hey, Nick," said Kat, stepping back into the hallway. "Did you forget something?"

  "I'm sorry to bother you again, Kat, but I just heard back from a friend at the police department. The forensics team has determined that the murder weapon that killed Courtney was a wine saber. I'm sharing this with you in strictest confidence, since this is not information the police department plans to release to the public while the investigation is ongoing."

  "What exactly is a wine saber? I've never heard of such a thing," Kat asked.

  "It's a champagne opener that's shaped like a small cavalry sword,
" Nick explained. "Sabrage is a technique for opening French sparkling wine that goes back to the days of the Napoleonic Wars. Legend has it that Napoleon's light cavalry used the backs of their swords to lop off the tops of champagne bottles, and wine enthusiasts today now use these sabers to do the same thing on special occasions."

  "Chopping off the top of a bottle seems like a messy way to go about opening a bottle of champagne," Kat commented.

  Nick laughed. "Well, it's not exactly chopping it off. You run the back of the blade down the bottle's seam, which is the weak point in the glass, and when the blade makes contact with the lip around the neck, the entire collar and cork go flying off the bottle. It's usually a perfectly clean break across the top of the bottle."

  "Do you think that choice of weapon was foolish or deliberate?" Kat asked.

  "Great question. It does seem a little too obvious that the killer would be a wine connoisseur, but it's also possible that the murderer intended to give that impression. By the way, I got Professor Jodie Morris's class schedule because, knowing you, you're probably going to want to talk to her. I'll email it to you. I noticed that she holds office hours for students on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons from two to four."

  "Thanks, Nick. I'll see if I can make an appointment with her as soon as possible."

  "On that subject, let me give you some advice," Nick began. "Blaine bought that beautiful Rottweiler for you because you were in danger when you were trying to solve your editor's murder. Let's be real clear here. Another murderer is still at large, and once again you're taking it upon yourself to investigate the crime. Please take Rudy with you wherever you go. I'm sure my brother would say the same thing."

  Kat was certain Blaine would too. "Thanks for your concern, Nick. If you find out anything else, please call me anytime, day or night."

  When Kat returned to the dining area she told Blaine what Nick had said.

  "Do you know what a wine saber is?" Kat asked. "I've never seen one. As a matter of fact, I've never even heard of one before today. I'll have to Google it."

  "No, I have no idea what it is. I've never heard the term before either," Blaine responded. "So, what do you intend to do with all the information Nick gave you?"

  "I've been thinking. I still have some contacts in the English Department at the university. Most of them were colleagues of Greg's, including the present dean," Kat replied. "I'm going to make a couple of calls in the morning and see if I can set up some meetings. If Geoffrey's monkey business, as the motel maid that Nick talked to called it, is such an open secret, surely someone will have some ideas about what might be going on."

  Blaine sighed and looked at his wife with a loving but concerned expression. "Kat, remember how worried I was for your safety after your editor, Nancy, was murdered? I got you Rudy for a reason. Please do me a favor and take him with you now that you're involved in another murder case. Would you do that for me?"

  "Yes, I will," Kat said, leaning over to softly kiss Blaine on the cheek. "You sound just like your brother, you know. What is it about you Evans men?"

  "It's pretty simple." Blaine ran his fingers through her hair and pulled her closer. "We don't want to see the people we love get hurt."

  CHAPTER 15

  Kat was up early the next day making coffee while Blaine took Jazz and Rudy for a walk. She'd just finished getting dressed when she heard Jazz and Rudy come bounding back into the house, followed by Blaine, who hung their leashes on the coat rack in the foyer.

  "Kat, We're back!" Blaine called up the stairs.

  "Coffee's ready!" Kat called back. "I'll be right down."

  Kat joined Blaine in the kitchen and got out the makings for breakfast, eggs, bacon, and bread for toast.

  "What's on your agenda today, honey?" she asked Blaine, who was leaning against the kitchen counter sipping his mug of coffee. He handed her one he'd poured for her. She neglected to mention she had a half-finished cup upstairs and accepted it with thanks.

  "Ryan called me while I was walking the dogs and asked if we could meet one last time before his fraud trial starts. He wants to go over his opening statement once more and confirm a few other details to be sure he's as prepared as possible," Blaine responded. "Poor guy, I know he's thinking this is kind of a do or die trial for him. No wonder he wants to be as prepared as he possibly can."

  "I'm sure with your tutelage, he'll do just fine. Do you have time to eat a quick breakfast? The eggs won't take long."

  "Sure, but I need to head out in about half an hour," Blaine said. He leaned over and kissed Kat on the cheek. "And what trouble do you have planned for today?"

  "Trouble? Me? Bite thy tongue," Kat said with a conspiratorial look on her face. "Breakfast is served," she announced a few minutes later. She put the food on the table and motioned for Blaine to sit down. She took a sip of her coffee and said, "I'm hoping to make some more progress on my novel, and then I want to see if I can meet with the current dean of the English Department at the university. I'd like to find out what he might know about Geoffrey White."

  "Don't forget what I said last night about taking your beloved guard dog with you today, okay?"

  "I will, I promise."

  After breakfast, Blaine kissed Kat goodbye and headed out the door. Kat went up to her office and worked for a couple of hours solid on her book, feeling for the first time that it was starting to come together. Around nine, she looked at her watch and decided it was probably late enough in the morning to call Neal Grant, the dean of the English Department and her late husband's former protege.

  When the English Department receptionist answered the phone, Kat asked for Neal and told her who was calling. Almost immediately she heard Neal's warm voice on the other end of the line.

  "Kat, this is definitely a pleasant surprise. How are you?" he asked.

  "I'm doing well, Neal. Thanks for asking."

  "It's been a long time since I last saw you. I think it was at Greg's funeral. I've always felt that I should have done more for you and Lacie after Greg died, and I regret that I didn't," Neal said.

  "Don't give it a second thought. You and the whole department were wonderful to us," Kat said. "As you can imagine, the first year after Greg was gone was pretty rough, but time is a great healer. As a matter of fact, I recently got married. You may know my husband, Blaine Evans. He's the district attorney."

  "I don't know him personally, but I voted for him. Does that count?" Neal chuckled.

  "I'll bet Blaine would say it does. I'm sure he appreciates your support. Listen, I have something I'd like to discuss with you. Is there any chance you'd have time to see me today?"

  "For you, I'll make time. How about one o'clock this afternoon? We can meet here in my office. I assume you remember where my office is, given how often you used to visit Greg."

  "That would be perfect, and yes, I remember. Thanks, Neal. I'll see you then."

  "Want to give me an idea of what this is about?" Neal asked, as she was about to end the call.

  "No, I'll fill you in when I get there."

  After she ended the call, Kat decided to make the dirt cake she'd had at the country club for dinner. When she'd finished she added a few more chapters to her new novel until it was almost noon. After making a few edits to what she'd written that morning she got up to change clothes for her meeting with Neal. She went downstairs to let the dogs out, and while she watched them sniffing around the grass in the backyard, she thought about her promise to Blaine and Nick that she'd take Rudy with her while she was investigating this latest murder. She only planned to see Neal Grant, an old friend, so it really seemed unnecessary to take Rudy to the university.

  But then she remembered something she'd recently read about the subtle ways married couples undermine their relationships. One little lie or broken promise eventually leads to another, and then another, and a pattern begins to develop. Eventually trust is undermined entirely, and the marriage is in jeopardy. She called the dogs back into the house and attached
Rudy's leash to his collar.

  "Jazz, sweetie, I promise I'll give you a special treat as soon as we come back home, but for now you're going to have to stay here."

  Kat secured Jazz in her kennel, loaded Rudy into her car, and headed off towards the university.

  Driving through the campus streets and around the old academic buildings brought back a flood of memories of Kat's first years in Lindsay and her late husband's time on the university faculty. As if on autopilot, she remembered the quickest route through the campus to the English building and easily made her way through its halls to the dean's office.

  Shortly after Kat gave her name to the receptionist, Neal hurried out of his office to greet her. He laughed at the sight of the hundred twenty-pound Rottweiler by her side. "Now that's a magnificent dog, Kat." He hesitated before approaching the big dog. "Is he friendly? May I pet him?"

  "Yes, of course. He's actually quite sweet unless he senses I'm being threatened. In my husband's position as the district attorney, he sometimes sees the worst of human nature. He bought Rudy for me for my protection and his own peace of mind."

  Neal scratched his head, a puzzled look crossing his face. "Does that mean you're in some kind of danger?"

  Kat paused for a moment before deciding how to respond.

  "Not exactly," she said, "at least I hope not, but Blaine likes me to have Rudy around just in case."

  "Let's step inside my office so we can talk more freely. I can practically guarantee that you and Rudy will be safe there," Neal said with a smile as he escorted her from the waiting area into the dean's corner office which had a sweeping view of the campus.

  Kat settled down into a plump leather armchair across from Neal's massive mahogany desk, which was piled with books, folders, and papers of various sizes and colors. She smiled to herself. Neal was kind and smart and highly competent, but evidently not as organized as Greg had been when he held this same position. Neal's desk was a mess.

  "Okay, now tell me what I can do for you, Kat," Neal said, templing his fingers together over his elbows which rested on a space he'd cleared on the desk. He leaned forward in his large leather desk chair.