Maid of Murder

Chapter Thirty-Five

I had resituated myself behind the reference counter at Ryan when Erin approached the desk with a handful of yellow while-you-were-out slips. She fanned them on the counter. “I didn’t go to college to be a secretary, you know.”

I thanked her, and she looked at me strangely, probably because she expected a smart retort; I disappointed her.

“Four messages from your mother, each more hysterical than the last, and another two from some dude named Lewis Clive.”

The first message from my mother read, “India, call me immediately.” Followed by “India, call the second you get in.” Then, “India, turn on your cell phone and call me.” Finally, “India, this is your mother. I’m expecting a call.”

Erin leaned on the counter. “She had me read them back to her to make sure that I got the emphasis just right.”

“Fantastic.”

“India, what’s going on? Rumors on campus say that your brother’s in jail for murdering that woman in the fountain. Everybody already knows that he’s been fired.”

I took a deep breath. “Suspended,” I corrected.

“Whatever,” she said, as if the distinction meant nothing.

“Erin, I really can’t talk about this with—”

“Anyway, I told them they were full of it. Professor Hayes would never hurt anyone.” Before I could respond, she turned and retreated to her post at the checkout desk.

During my break, I went to the student union to return Lew’s phone call. A lone graduate student slept in a dimly lit booth. Piles of books, notebooks, and printouts hid the table’s dark surface and his face.

I slipped into an empty booth and turned on my cell phone. The tiny digital screen announced that my mailbox was full. I bet I knew who most of those messages were from. I dialed Lew’s number.

“It’s about time you called,” Lew rasped.

I made no apology. “Isn’t a hundred thousand dollars a little steep for bail?”

“Oh, you heard. Your mother called, I suspect.”

I didn’t correct him.

Oh, only manslaughter. Well that makes things so much better, I thought.

“The judge and Mark have a history,” I said and told him about the trampled flower gardens.

“Oh. God, I hate this small-town crap.”

I agreed and longed for the anonymity of Chicago. Maybe I should have stayed there after art school.

“That explains that. The judge took one look at your brother and set her jaw. It didn’t help that your parents were kicked out of the courtroom for disturbing the proceedings. Do you know they had T-shirts made up? But I don’t have to tell you about your folks, do I?”

“No, you don’t. Were the Blockens there?”

“Just the doc as far as I could see, and pretty unemotional. Olivia’s funeral was today.”

“I know; I was there.”

“Ah.” He inhaled.

“How did Mark react?”

“He sniffled a little. Thank God, he didn’t cry.” Lew coughed and took another mouthful of nicotine.

“I mean, to my parents not posting bond.”

“I haven’t had a chance to tell him yet. The courtroom was in such an uproar after Luckas’s decision that he was taken from the room before we could speak. I’m on my way to the jail right now.”

I ended the call and walked back to the library.

By late afternoon, I was more than ready to go home. The week had robbed me of what little librarian fervor I’d had, and my eyes drifted shut, then jerked open at a tapping on the reference counter. I opened them to Lepcheck’s scowl. His perpetual grimace matched his understated, but pricey funeral suit nicely. Lasha stood behind him with her arms crossed over her expansive chest in a gleaming kelly green pants suit. Ina would’ve approved of the ensemble.

“Do you have a reference question, Dr. Lepcheck?” I asked in my best helpful librarian voice.

He tugged on the tip of his goatee, a perturbing habit. “Ms. Hayes, Dr. Lint and I would like to speak to you in her office.”

“Who will watch the reference desk?” I asked, instantly regretting it.

He scowled. “Now.”

I followed their ridged backs, one black, one kelly green, toward Lasha’s cramped office. We passed Andy and Erin. Erin glanced up from a novel and Andy from a gamer website. The looks on their faces were those of witnesses watching a friend enter a Texas gas chamber. Dead librarian walking.

Lasha hadn’t tidied her office for the occasion. The innumerable stacks of library books in varied stages of acquiring or discarding covered every flat surface including the four chairs. Lasha pushed the piles off three.

Lepcheck looked around, but refrained from comment. His thin-lipped expression spoke volumes, though. He walked around Lasha’s desk and sat on her desk chair. Lasha’s expression spoke volumes, too. She sat on one of the three armchairs facing the desk. I chose the chair closest to the door, but before I could sit down, I tripped over a stack of library catalogs, falling into Lasha’s desk and knocking a pile of magazines to the floor. Clumsily, I restacked the magazines. I bit my lip to stop myself from speaking. Furtively, I glanced at Lepcheck.

Lasha sighed, and I let out an exhale of relief when Lepcheck didn’t say anything.

Lepcheck tugged his academic goatee twice more and steepled his fingers, which were slender and long, his nails buffed to a shine. Lasha crossed her legs and her arms as if to shield herself from the arctic draft wafting off of Lepcheck’s person.

“Ms. Hayes,” he said. “You’ve startled the college this week with your behavior.”

During any moment in academic life that the college was subjected to personification, it’s time to duck and cover. Lasha winced, making me feel more at ease. She wasn’t on his side.

Lepcheck studied me over his manicured hands. “I fear that the unfortunate situation with your brother has skewed your focus.”

“Skewed my focus?” My tone was ironical.

“Martin College is an institution of great esteem and respect in this community.”

Esteem and respect. I hadn’t known.

“With that position, a level of prestige and honorability must be retained. In the last week, Martin College has fallen short of its expected level of . . .” he paused, “. . . respectability. Olivia Blocken’s misfortune was a sad circumstance for her family and for the town of Stripling. But, Ms. Hayes, it was also an unfortunate circumstance for Martin College, due primarily not to the location of the act, which is disheartening to say the least, but to the involvement of a Martin faculty member. The college has received innumerable phone calls and emails from parents concerned about their children. Martin College has fostered a reputation as a safe environment, but with the latest turn of events, that reputation is beginning to wane.”

I gripped the arms of my chair. I was going to be fired. I could feel it in my bones. Fired for failing to curtsey when Lepcheck entered the library, fired for being the offspring of crazies, fired for being the sister of Stripling’s most wanted. It would obviously be a wrongful dismissal. Lew would certainly litigate on my behalf, and my parents’ like-minded friends would take up arms, but would I be able to survive a long court case? And if I won, would I be able to return to Martin?

Lepcheck spoke a few more sentences that I missed. I tuned in when he was in mid-tirade. “However, the college understands that you are not responsible for your brother’s actions.”

“Alleged actions,” I said. They don’t think I’m responsible. Maybe I won’t be fired. Or at least not today, I thought.

Lepcheck affected a weak smile. “Nevertheless, we are concerned about your involvement on your brother’s behalf. Please understand that as long as Mark Hayes is a suspect in Olivia Blocken’s death, the college cannot in good faith reinstate him as a member of the faculty. The prime objective for Martin College is student safety.”

Followed closely by tuition revenue, I mentally added.

Lasha frowned. “Sam, is there a point to all of this?”

Lepcheck winced most likely at Lasha’s casual use of his moniker. He adjusted his position in her desk chair, maybe to remind her where he was. “The point of all this, Ms. Hayes, Dr. Lint, is simple. Martin College can no longer tolerate disturbance to the education and betterment of the young people on this campus. This goes for any planned or impromptu rallies established by your parents and/or friends on your brother’s behalf. If these disturbances continue, the college will be forced to take action.”

“What type of action?” Lasha asked.

“That will be determined when or if the time comes.” He tugged on his goatee one more time. The lord and master had spoken. I knew that he was expecting a bow or at the very least a brief round of applause, but Lasha and I are not obliging in these types of situations.

Lepcheck looked at his watch, nodded as if in satisfaction, and rose. Evisceration in less than twenty minutes—a new personal record.

After he’d run off to ruin someone else’s day, Lasha spoke. “Martin doesn’t have a leg to stand on if they fire you. You know that. Lepcheck’s a weak man with weaker threats. He’s threatened me half a dozen times, and I’m still here.”

“True,” I agreed, cheered a tad.

Lasha looked thoughtful. “The sooner this mess with your brother is cleared up, the better for your brother, for the town, and for you.”

“I know.” I shifted in my seat.

“Are you still taking the weekend off?” she asked.

“The weekend?”

Lasha walked behind her desk to the staff calendar. “You requested it off months ago for Olivia’s wedding. Take it off, and figure out who killed your friend while you’re at it.”

As if it were that easy, I thought.