File M For Murder

In the kitchen we found Justin Wardlaw, my younger boarder, staring into the refrigerator. When Diesel made a beeline for him and warbled, Justin shut the door and dropped to his knees to hug the cat. “Hey, Mr. Charlie, how’s it going?”

“Fine.” I removed the cat’s leash. “How are your classes?”

Justin glanced up at me as he removed Diesel’s harness. After a difficult first semester at Athena College, he had settled down and performed well. The trials he faced that first semester had matured him. He’d undergone physical change as well, working out and putting on some weight, cutting his dark hair and growing a beard. No longer a gangly, awkward boy, he looked and acted like the man he’d become.

“They’re all good, thanks.” Justin hung the harness on its knob near the back door. Diesel followed him, and Justin scratched behind the cat’s ears. With a thank-you chirp Diesel disappeared into the utility room, home to his litter box.

“And the work-study job?” I went to the refrigerator for the pitcher of chilled water.

“Pretty cool so far.” Justin worked ten hours a week in the History Department. “Dr. Biles asked me to take her notes for her western civ class and put them on the computer.” He laughed. “The pages are all tattered, and the print’s fading. They must be twenty-five years old. But at least I’m getting a good refresher while I work. I’m planning to take her upper-level medieval history class in the spring if I get permission.”

I poured glasses of water for both myself and Justin when he retrieved another glass from the cupboard. “You’ve excelled in your history classes. I’m sure they’ll decide you’re ready to tackle a more advanced course.”

“Thanks.” Justin smiled shyly. “I’m thinking about graduate school in history.”

“Good for you.” Before I could continue, my cell phone rang. “Excuse me.” I set my glass on the counter, pulled the phone out of my pocket, and glanced at the number. It was Laura.

“Hello, sweetheart. What’s up?” I picked up my glass for another sip of water.

“It’s Connor, Dad.” The near panic in Laura’s voice alerted me. “He’s dead.”

TWELVE

I was so startled by Laura’s words that I spit the mouthful of water back into the glass. My hand shook as I set the glass on the counter.

“Laura, where are you? Are you all right?” I had to get to her as quickly as possible.

Where did I put my keys?

There they were, on their hook by the door.

Laura was crying now. I had to ask her again where she was.

She managed to get out two words: “Connor’s place.”

“I’ll get there as fast I can, sweetheart. Now try to calm down and give me the address.” I jingled the keys in my hand, anxious to get to her.

I heard Laura draw a deep breath, then another. She managed to give me the address, and I recognized the street. She was only about five minutes away. “I’m on the way. Have you called 911 yet?”

“No, but I will now.” Laura sounded slightly stronger. She ended the call.

I turned to Justin. “No time to explain, but I need to go. Diesel, you can’t come with me.”

Diesel meowed, and Justin placed a hand on the cat’s head. “Don’t worry, Mr. Charlie, you go right ahead. I’ll keep Diesel company.”

“Thanks.” Then I was out the back door and scrambling to get into my car.

The address Laura gave me was for an apartment complex on the northeast side of the campus, about three miles away.

I parked in the first open spot I found. As I sprinted toward the complex, I heard a siren in the distance, coming ever closer. I entered through an open archway to an interior courtyard.

My heart pounded hard in my chest as I tried to focus with the late afternoon sun in my eyes. A few feet from me was a sign with apartment numbers affixed to the building. I followed the arrow in the direction indicated, checking the numbers on the doors as I sped by, frantic to reach my daughter.

Apartment 117 was a corner unit at the back, and as I approached it the door swung open. Cell phone clutched in one hand, Laura stumbled toward me. I hugged her tight to my chest.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m here.” I repeated those words several times, and Laura grew calmer.

She drew back, and her tear-stained face wrenched my heart. Suddenly she was twelve again, and I wanted to comfort her. But I had to ask one question I neglected to ask earlier. “Honey, did you check him? To be sure, I mean?”

“I freaked out when the 911 operator asked me to do it.” Laura regarded me with guilt-stricken eyes. “I just couldn’t touch him.”

“I’ll check.” I moved past her to the open door. “Where is he?”

“Right there in the living room.” Laura closed her eyes and began deep-breathing exercises.

I stepped inside, and I gagged at the smell of stale cigarette smoke and a couple of odors that hinted at death. I figured then it was probably too late, but I had to check anyway.