Catch a Falling Knife

Chapter 18

Mark didn’t have to show up at his job as bartender until late in the afternoon and so he was at loose ends. Since he didn’t like the idea of me driving myself to Bethany, he insisted on taking me to Eric Hoffman’s home. It wasn’t because he had anything to do at Crescent Heights College; he had made his appeal for reinstatement and his fate was in the hands of the committee that decided such things. They would issue a ruling when they were good and ready.

When I asked him what he thought his chances were, he said, “What are the chances of a lion and a zebra signing a non-aggression pact?”

“That bad, eh?”

“Let’s just say that I should have decided on a career as a burglar when I had the opportunity.”

I didn’t say much more on that subject. I figured that the best way I could help lift Mark out of his depression was to solve the murder of Elise. We agreed that he shouldn’t talk to Eric Hoffman so he dropped me off at the Hoffman driveway and drove away. I would call his beeper with my cell phone when I was ready to be picked up. He used the beeper in conjunction with his bartending job.

I had called Eric from my apartment to make sure that he was going to be there and June wasn’t. She had returned to work. I told him that after talking to Detective Johnson I had some more ideas I wanted to discuss with him. He seemed to be willing to talk to me. I didn’t tell him that the detective had threatened me and I didn’t plan to tell him about Elise’s marijuana use. Let Detective Johnson do that. After all, that’s what he got paid for.

I carried a dog treat for Monster; King loved them so I hoped Monster would too. Monster growled a little when he first saw me, but then he must have recognized my scent because he stopped and came amiably forward. The treat cinched it. We were buddies for life. I scratched him between the ears and told him I had to talk to his master.

Eric acted surprised when he answered the doorbell and found that I had gotten past Monster without him hearing. He appeared to be agitated as he invited me to come inside and sit down. He served us coffee that was already made. He declined my offer to help, saying that he could carry the tray with one hand and wield his cane with the other.

He could, although the tray shook slightly and the contents chattered as he placed it on the coffee table. But he was still strong. I took a sip of coffee and was preparing what to say when I noticed a copy of the Bethany Bugle sitting on the table beside the coffee tray. That was my opening

“Have you read today’s paper?” I asked, indicating the Bugle.

Eric looked startled. “You don’t get that paper, do you?”

“I was told there was an article in it about Donna.”

“Is that why you’re here?”

“I do want to talk about Donna, yes. How do you feel about the article?”

“How do I feel about Elise’s roommate working as a stripper at Club Cavalier? How do I feel about her best friend corrupting my baby? I’ve dedicated my life to stopping the sin and the shame of this sort of thing. How do you think I feel?”

The words were there, but the passion wasn’t. It sounded as if Eric were reading the scripture lesson in church. Maybe it was because Donna was the sinner, rather than Elise. Eric opened the paper to the article and handed it to me. I pretended to read it, going “tsk-tsk” at appropriate moments.

“I guess this changes things,” I said, handing the paper back to him.

“It throws a monkey wrench into my feelings about Donna. When she came here she seemed like such a nice girl, well brought up…”

Eric seemed to run out of things to say. When he paused, I said, “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. You said that Donna came here several times when you were alone.”

“Twice. Maybe three times. No more.”

“What did you two talk about?”

“I believe I told you. She wanted to team up with Elise. She would be the songwriter, Elise would be the singer.”

“Who would write the music? I believe Donna writes words but not music.”

“Elise wrote some music. And I think she knew somebody who wrote music.”

“Of course, singers usually sing songs written by many songwriters. For instance, Frank Sinatra was partial to Cole Porter, but he sang songs written by many other songwriters, as well. I guess my real question is, why did Donna discuss this with you? Why didn’t she talk to Elise about it?”

“Oh, she did. All the time. But she felt that Elise was distancing herself, putting on airs, as she called it. I got the impression Donna thought Elise thought she was better than Donna. Of course she was…”

I had better get to the point. “So what did Donna want you to do? I mean, she didn’t just come here to cry in her coffee, did she?”

“You’d make a good detective,” Eric said, with a smile. “Donna asked me to convince Elise that they belonged together. She wanted me to go to bat for her.”

“Which you did?” I waited for Eric to tell me something new.

“I talked to Elise. I put in a word for Donna. Donna was nice to me. Don’t take this the wrong way, but she would sit on my lap, being careful not to hurt my leg, of course. She had beautiful…manners. She recognized my needs. June just treats me like an invalid. Say, you won’t tell June I told you this, will you?”

This was new, but I had better not dwell on it. “Of course not. But tell me more about how you think Donna felt about Elise-about their relationship. I know they were friends and all that, but if Donna came to you it must have been because there was a problem between them, or at least in her mind there was a problem between them. Elise was pulling away; isn’t that what you said? Okay, that sort of thing happens. If Elise didn’t want to team up with Donna she just had to make other plans.”

“Donna envied Elise…maybe she felt she was nothing without Elise. She almost seemed to be desperate to hold onto her.”

“That sounds like a love affair gone wrong.”

“Donna isn’t one of those lesbian dykes, if that’s what you mean. And my baby was normal too. But…I can’t ever be friends with Donna again. Not after what she did at Club Cavalier. Seducing men, breaking up families…”

In another minute the human race would be doomed to an early extinction. I said, “Donna is smart and talented, in her own right. She doesn’t need Elise for validation.”

“I’m no headshrinker. I don’t know what Donna needs. But she’d better watch out.”

We ate lunch in the Crescent Heights College cafeteria. Mark said that as far as he knew he hadn’t been suspended from using the cafeteria. Several students said hello to him as we went through the line and one wished him well. After we sat down I told him about the conversation I had had with Eric. I wanted his opinion about Donna.

“Donna appears to be a manipulator,” Mark said as he swallowed a bite of hamburger. “Strippers manipulate men. And she certainly has old Eric where she wants him.”

“He told me Donna sat in his lap,” I said. “She must have been watching the lap-dancers at Club Cavalier. Or maybe she participated.”

“And don’t forget the possibility that Eric may be impotent. That leg injury may be more than just his leg. Maybe she keeps Eric on her side by letting him taste her strawberries. Maybe that’s all he can do.”

I laughed. “Which may be one game more than June will play. But the real question about Donna is whether her ‘desperation’ about Elise, as Eric called it, was enough for her to kill Elise.”

“It’s possible. And in spite of what Eric told you, there may be more to their relationship that we don’t know about, or that he doesn’t know about.”

“Implying what?”

“Nothing. Or everything. Young women, even well brought up young women, sometimes go through periods of experimentation. At least that’s what I’ve heard. But even if there was nothing physical between them, it’s possible that Donna thought Elise was snubbing her. That could be very upsetting to her.”

“Eric also said that Donna had better watch out. I wonder what he meant by that.”

“It occurs to me that the time these people should have watched out was before Elise was killed.” Mark had been glancing around the noisy and crowded room. He gestured with his eyes and said, “Look three tables to your left.”

Speak of the devil. It was Donna, all right, sitting alone at a small table, eating a sandwich. Her profile was toward us and I didn’t think she had seen us. We studied her for a few seconds and I wondered something I had wondered many times before: How can people recognize their relatives and friends out of the billions of people in the world, many of whom must look like them? In Donna’s case she was very average looking; her features did not single her out and yet I was completely certain it was she from her hair, her head and arm movements, and other cues, however minor, that when taken together, added up to a complete picture. But as easy as it was to spot Donna, I knew it would have been easier to spot Elise, sitting at the same table.

“Stay here,” I said to Mark. “You’re not supposed to talk to her, but I’m going to.”

Mark looked concerned. “Be careful what you say.”

“I’m always careful.”

I took a circular route to Donna’s table, walking behind her so that when she saw me she would be facing away from Mark. I approached her from her other side and said, “Is this seat taken?”

“Oh…hi, Professor,” Donna said, startled, as she looked up from a book she was reading.

“I don’t mean to interrupt. I spotted you across a crowded room and wanted to say hello.”

“No, please sit down.” Donna had recovered her composure. “It’s good to see you. And I wanted to thank you again for inviting me to Professor Morgan’s…” she laughed, “…the other Professor Morgan’s farm. I had a great time.”

“I’m glad you could come,” I said. “We all enjoyed having you,” including Mark at least by implication, figuring that his opinion would weigh heaviest with her. “What are you reading?”

“Oh, this. It’s poetry. Emily Dickinson. It doesn’t have anything to do with any of my classes. I should be reading my physics book. Which reminds me, the class really missed having Dr. Pappas give the lecture yesterday. He makes everything so understandable. The professor who took over the class is an old guy-excuse me, I didn’t mean that in a derogatory way-who talks in long sentences and I couldn’t follow him well enough to take good notes. I hope Dr. Pappas gets his job back soon.”

I looked over at Mark’s table, but he had disappeared. I said, “So do I. Do you like Emily Dickinson?”

“Well, as you know, I fancy myself to be somewhat of a poet so I figured I should learn from the greats. But what I really want to be, as I think I told you, is a lyricist. That’s the only way you can make any money as a poet.”

“But of course that’s a difficult profession to break into. Incidentally, I talked to Eric Hoffman this morning. He said the two of you are friends.”

Donna looked startled at the mention of Eric’s name. She giggled, nervously, and said, “Yeah, I guess you could say we’re friends. He’s a sweet man.”

“And someone you can talk to about your dream of being a lyricist?”

“He’s a good listener.”

“And he might have had some influence with Elise and helped her to see that you and she belonged in a partnership together.”

I must have been very witty because Donna laughed again.

She said, “I didn’t need anybody to speak to Elise for me. We got along just fine.”

“Did she want to sing professionally?”

“She was thinking about it. She was talking about singing with the rock group again this coming summer.”

“And you were going to write lyrics for them?”

“Well…they are looking at some words I wrote to see if they can put them to music.”

“When did you decide to disclose your secret identity?”

Donna looked puzzled so I said, “I read the article about you in today’s Bethany Bugle.”

“Oh, that.” Donna laughed again and looked around, apparently to see if anybody was listening. “The police knew about it and you knew about it. I figured it would come out, anyway, in conjunction with the investigation, so I decided, what the heck, when a reporter called, asking questions about Elise.”

“What has been the reaction of your friends?”

“My female friends all say they wish they had the guts to do it.”

“And your parents?”

“With any luck they won’t find out.”