Catch a Falling Knife

Chapter 14

The office of Burt Brown, my attorney friend, was plush considering his age, early thirties, and the fact that he had been out of law school only a few years. His parents had been friends of Milt, my late husband, and me, although they were younger than we were. We had known each other since before Burt was born.

Burt’s firm handled cases ranging from murder to immigration and I wanted him to be in at the start with Mark, even though Mark hadn’t been charged with anything yet. He had agreed to meet us on Saturday morning before his golf game, because of the family friendship.

Burt met us in the lobby of his firm’s offices, which were in a new office building in Durham.

“Hi Aunt Lillian, it’s good to see you,” he said, greeting me with a warm smile and a hug.

Of course I wasn’t really his aunt. He wore a golfing sweater and casual slacks. He was about the same height as I am and his exotic good looks, caused by his mixed ancestry, had to attract females, although I wasn’t aware that he was involved in any romantic entanglement. His mother was Malaysian. His parents had met while his father served with the military in Asia during the Viet Nam war.

I introduced Burt and Mark to each other, and Burt led us into his office. In addition to his desk and some shelves filled with law books, the furniture consisted of a sofa, several functional chairs and a large, antique rocking chair with giant arms and a hand-carved back. The seat had been recently recovered. Burt waved us to the couch.

“Sorry, Aunt Lillian,” Burt said, “there’s no coffee because it’s Saturday, but I have soft drinks and fruit drinks. Can I get you something?”

I asked for water and Mark requested a coke. Burt got a fruit-flavored drink for himself and a bottle of designer water for me; all the drinks came from a small refrigerator in the corner of his office. After he had served us, Burt produced a yellow legal pad, the same kind Tess had been using to record notes for me. I was glad to see that Tess used official legal stationery. He sat down in the rocking chair and rocked gently back and forth.

“This chair is over 100 years old,” Burt said. “It still has the original buggy springs in the seat.”

“Almost as old as I am,” I said, looking at it with new respect.

“So, Mark,” Burt said, in a conversational tone, “I understand you’re involved in the case of the coed murder at Crescent Heights College. I read about it in the paper. What’s her name…Elise something-or-other?”

“Hoffman,” Mark said. “Elise Hoffman. I haven’t been accused of anything yet, but the detective questioned me for several hours on Thursday afternoon.”

“And Aunt Lillian tells me you’ve been suspended from your teaching job.”

“That’s right. I found out yesterday morning. The reason it happened so fast is because Elise had previously brought a sexual harassment charge against me.”

“In fact, you were supposed to see me about the harassment on Wednesday, if I recall correctly.”

“I apologize for not showing up.” Mark looked contrite. “That was the day I fell apart.”

Burt had said that with a twinkle in his eye, but we owed him for wasting his time.

“All right, tell me about your relationship with Elise and then tell me everything you did on Wednesday.”

Burt took notes with a Mont Blanc pen as Mark told his story, which went on for half-an-hour. Burt interrupted, occasionally, with questions. I was impressed with his thoroughness and his professionalism. Any time you watch a child grow up you tend to still think of him as a child, even after he has become a fully functioning adult.

When Mark had finished his story, Burt rocked in his chair and stared at the pictures on the wall of him playing golf with people who looked to me like celebrities I should recognize. I would have to take a closer look at those pictures. I wondered whether Burt was thinking about Mark or about playing golf.

“Okay, this is what we’re going to do,” Burt said, returning his gaze to Mark and me. “We’re going to take very seriously the possibility of Mark being charged with murder. Mark, you’re going to carry on with your life and look the picture of innocence. You’re not going to go out of town or do anything that might arouse suspicion. It’s okay for you to work as a bartender. That’s what you were doing before you started teaching and you’ve got to eat.

“You’re going to try to get your suspension at the college lifted. Find out the exact reason for the suspension. If it has anything at all to do with Elise’s murder, I’ll be on top of it like a linebacker sacking the quarterback because, since you haven’t been charged with anything in connection with her murder, they can’t legally suspend you for that.

“If the suspension is for the harassment, I can’t intervene directly because of their own rules, but you can take this approach. Try to get the harassment charge dismissed because Elise is no longer available to testify. Play the recording for them in which Elise said she was going to drop the charges against you. If these people have any humanity at all they’ll dismiss the charge and reinstate you.”

“Everything you’ve said makes sense,” Mark said.

“I’m not through,” Burt said, with a smile. “Mark, I don’t want you talking to the police. If they ask you any questions, refer them to me. I also don’t want you running around playing detective. I don’t want you going to Club Cavalier or talking to anybody connected with Elise, including her roommate, her parents or her boyfriend. You’re going to leave that sort of thing to the police. And to me.”

“What about me?” I asked, feeling guilty because I hadn’t told them that Donna claimed to be the Shooting Star. Maybe I shouldn’t have promised her to keep quiet.

“Aunt Lillian, you’re the last person I would try to tell what to do. Nobody can tell you what to do. You’re irrepressible. In fact, I encourage you to continue your own investigation because you might find something that the police don’t. I heard about your previous exploits as a detective and I’m impressed. If you’re even a little bit careful I don’t think the police will be bugged by what you’re doing because you can fly under their radar. They don’t expect you to be out there and you can accomplish things without them noticing.”

With Burt’s blessing I drove to Bethany again Saturday afternoon. Tess rode shotgun with me and watched the map.

“How do you think I should play it with Ted?” I asked, as we turned onto the main street of Bethany.”

“Maybe I should go in with you,” Tess said. “It sounds to me as if Ted is a very religious person and you’re about as religious as a vulture.”

“That’s not fair,” I protested. “Just because I watch the ceiling whenever I’m inside a church to see if it’s going to come crashing down doesn’t mean that I can’t talk to religious people. And besides, I try to increase harmony in the world.”

“I never said you weren’t a good person. Being a good person isn’t the same as being a religious person.”

“Amen to that.”

“Turn right at the light.”

A few more turns and we were on the street where Ted lived, in the basement of a residential house. Donna had given me his address and told me that we were likely to find him home even on a weekend because he spent a lot of his time studying, although his routine would understandably have been interrupted by Elise’s murder. Tess spotted the house and we parked 100 feet past it. My recent experiences had taught me it’s a good thing to be somewhat devious when one is a detective.

I decided that Tess might add some leavening to my vulture-like approach (using her words) and so we walked back to the house together. The long driveway was asphalt, instead of the gravel of the Hoffmans’ driveway, and thus easy walking. Our walk took us past the house, itself, an older wooden model with odd shapes projecting from the walls, forming, I suppose, nooks inside where the inhabitants found sanctuary.

The door in the back was right where Donna had said it would be so I didn’t hesitate to knock on it. There was no doorbell. My knock was followed by silence for so long that I suspected Ted was not in residence, but eventually footsteps sounded behind the door and it opened.

The young man who looked out at us was tall and quite thin, with short, blondish hair and aviator-style glasses, which gave him a studious look.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” I said, practicing my compassion, “but I knew Elise, and I wanted to express my condolences to you. I’m Lillian Morgan and this is my friend Tess.”

“Er, thank you,” he said, looking from one of us to the other. And then, as an afterthought, “Uh, won’t you come in?”

As he turned to lead us inside I detected a whiff of what might be alcohol on his breath. Did religious people drink alcohol? There were a number of steps going down to what was clearly the basement. I hung onto Tess, whose walking was somewhat wobbly under the best of conditions. We made it all right and followed Ted into a messy room with a few pieces of furniture and two small, ground-level windows, high up on adjoining walls.

“Do you want to sit down?” he asked, lifting a pile of clothes from an old chair and throwing them into a corner. I suspected this was his only room, except for a small kitchen and smaller bathroom that I could see through open doors.

I let Tess take the closest chair because it looked firm and she had the hardest time getting up. I sat on the couch, which I was sure had a hide-a-bed hiding beneath the pillows. Ted sat in a chair with a footrest, facing a television set that was broadcasting a basketball game. A lit lamp on a table beside him didn’t help much to relieve the gloom. Neither did the dim light coming in through the windows. An open beer can and a half-eaten sandwich sat on the table. He turned off the TV with a remote.

“So you knew Elise?” he said to me.

As usual, I was conscious of the possibility of digging myself into a hole. “I knew her slightly,” I said. “She was such a bright and beautiful girl. It’s such a shame what happened.”

“Who would do a thing like that?” he said.

He slurred his words a little and looked as if he might be close to tears. Maybe he had been drowning his sorrows.

“You can take comfort in knowing that she’s in a better place,” Tess said.

Ted looked at her for a moment and said, “Right,” as if he wasn’t completely convinced of that.

“Elise told me she had filed a charge of sexual harassment against one of the professors,” I said, plunging in.

He looked at me, not showing comprehension, and I wondered whether Elise had told him about the charge. Maybe Donna had given me the wrong scoop. I wondered how to extract my foot from my mouth and why I wasn’t home in my apartment reading Reader’s Digest.

Just as I was about to retract my statement, Ted said, “First that and now this. The whole world is going to hell.”

I hoped he wasn’t going to deliver a sermon, but he became quiet again. I said, “She also told me that she was going to withdraw the charge.”

“Withdraw the charge? Why would she withdraw the charge? The man abused her, sullied her, dirtied her. He’s probably the one who killed her. He should be the one to die.”

Uh oh. I had woken him up. “If she was going to withdraw the charge, maybe that meant she…she was mistaken.”

“No, there was no mistake. She definitely wasn’t a virgin.”

Tess and I looked at each other. What made him an expert on virgins? Unless the two of them… I said, “I know how you feel. Marriage is a sacred union and should be treated as such.” When he didn’t respond, I said, “It must have been awful for you. How did you hear about…Elise?”

“Mr. Hoffman called me at about 1 a.m. from her apartment. Of course I rushed right over there.”

“Do you have a car?”

“No, it’s only about a mile. I ran all the way. I couldn’t believe it was true. I hoped it was just a bad dream.”

“And you had been here studying the evening before?”

“I…you sound just like a detective.”

Now I had really woken him up.

“I’ll bet Detective Johnson asked you that question.”

“Yeah. I guess I was upset that he would consider me a suspect.”

“Did he say that you were a suspect?”

“No. He said Dr. Pappas had probably done it.”

“He said that to you?” Tess asked, astounded.

“Yeah. I bet he did it, too. That guy’s a dirty…skunk.”

I didn’t want to argue with Ted about Mark, so I said, “I heard that you and Elise were talking about getting married.”

“Who told you that?”

Woops. “Maybe I misheard. But you have been going together for a while, haven’t you?”

“Since September. I…wanted to marry her, but she hadn’t agreed. Sometimes I got the idea she thought I wasn’t good enough for her. But she who casts the first stone…I was willing to take her, in spite of her transgressions.”

Big of you. “What are you studying?”

“Right now, liberal arts.”

“And what do you want to do when you…graduate?” I almost said, “…when you grow up.”

“I plan to go on to graduate school and study to be a minister.”