Braxton Campus Mysteries Collection - Books 1-4

Chapter 7-1

Abby"s house was only a twenty-minute walk if I stuck to the path along the waterfront. Although still mighty cold, any snow on the ground had melted away, and since I wasn"t likely to get to a gym that afternoon, the extra cardio was more than welcome. When I arrived at her street, I made a right and ambled past the first few houses before finally finding one with a number. Most of the homes in the immediate vicinity were three-bedroom ranches on small parcels with fenced-in front and backyards for children and dogs to play, less any worry about balls rolling into the street or wild animals roaming in from the mountains. The occasional bobcat had been sighted years ago, but as the area became more urbanized, the wildlife retreated further into the Wharton Mountains.

Abby"s place was the second to last one on the left, a charming brick-fronted home with green shutters and a white door. As I neared the entrance, a four-door blue sedan crept down the driveway. I dropped to the ground to make it look like I"d been tying my boot laces. The driver reached into the mailbox, rifled through a few envelopes and a magazine, then took off down the street. He"d left the mail in the box. Had he been in the house?

I placed him in his mid-to-late forties, balding, and toying with facial hair. It was mostly grown in, a mixture of brown and gray surrounding his mouth and chin. Perhaps the goatee was making a comeback, or maybe he was hoping to lead the pack. Brother? Roommate? Could this be the husband, Alton? I hadn"t seen a picture of Abby"s spouse, but I"d gotten a good visual while this man was checking the mail.

If the Dark Reality notes weren"t at her office, it was possible they"d be at her home. It wasn"t like I was the kind of guy who"d break into the place to find them. Sheriff Montague would undoubtedly haul me to jail just for her laughs and revenge. When I was certain the blue sedan turned the corner, I stood and casually brushed off my pants. I was about to check for anything of interest in the backyard when someone startled me.

Dark Reality“May I help you?” asked a heavyset woman in a raspy voice and a peach-colored house dress. It was a little cold to be outside without a coat, but more power to her for being brave.

My eyes darted to the piece of mail in her hand, and I attempted to read the name. Even with my glasses, I could only decipher a few letters. “You must be Mrs. Ackerman, the neighbor my friend Abby talks about all the time.”

She pulled back, slightly confused, then smiled. “Abby talks about me? How sweet of her! It"s Mrs. Ackerton, handsome. And who might you be?” She pursed her lips and straightened her shoulders.

Wow! I was grateful for my quick thinking and stroke of luck. “Oh, I"m Justin. We work together at the college. I was just stopping by to check the mail for her while she"s away.”

Mrs. Ackerton shook her head and made a tsk-tsk sound with her tongue. “That explains why I haven"t seen her lately. It worried me, especially when I saw that police car here yesterday. There wasn"t a robbery, was there?” Mrs. Ackerton closed the lid on her mailbox and adjusted a hair curler. “Sorry, I"m not all fancied up for you at the moment.”

“No robberies I"ve been told about.” It seemed she wasn"t aware Abby had died over the weekend, but she was awake enough to flirt with me. “I saw a car drive away while I was fixing my laces and thought maybe I"d missed her or her husband,” I replied, ignoring the broccoli in her teeth.

“No, her husband don"t live here no more. Noticed the car a few times, but I"m not sure I"ve ever gotten a good look at the person to say that"s who"s been sleeping here. If I see Abby, I"ll mention you stopped by, Justin.” She reached out her hand and grabbed my bicep. “I love a strong man.”

“Do you think he was a friend of Abby"s?” I asked, fishing for information. “She didn"t tell me anyone else would stop by while she was away. I kinda thought I was the only—”

“Oh, I don"t know if it was anything romantic. Don"t reckon I"ll ever understand relationships these days. I suppose playing the field is part of the game, eh? I hope she wasn"t stepping out on you, Justin.” She elbowed me a few times before heading back up her walkway.

Did she think I"d date someone like Abby? We said our goodbyes, and I began my excursion back to campus to meet with Lorraine. Along the path, I thought about whether Abby"s death was a lover"s quarrel gone wrong. Had her husband found out she was having an affair, or did her boyfriend get angry she wouldn"t leave her husband? That"s when I realized I still didn"t know the exact cause of death. Connor had told me about the gash on her head, but it couldn"t have been from hitting the steps. There was some other object that had knocked her out first. Maybe I could convince the sheriff to tell me what they"d discovered onsite.

Before I knew it, I found myself about to ascend the front entrance of Diamond Hall. My mother was exiting the building and waved at me.

“Hey, Mom. Fancy seeing you here. Were you visiting Dad?” I asked, noting how cute it was they"d still spend part of their day together on campus. She"d miss him when he retired.

“I thought Lorraine could tell me where he was, so I could surprise him for lunch, but apparently Sheriff Montague asked him to return to the precinct again. They have a lot of questions about his relationship with Abby Monroe.”

“Did you ever find out where he went at the end of the retirement party?” I hoped she could fill in the information my father had conveniently left out.

My mother paused before offering an awkward, non-committal answer. “You know your father. He doesn"t think to tell me where he goes. I"m worried about him lately. Something"s not quite settled.”

“What do you mean? Something to do with his retirement?” I thought about the phone call too.

“Well, not exactly,” she replied, visibly drained and in need of a break. “He and Abby didn"t have the best of relations. Your father tried unsuccessfully to remove her as department chair. I"m afraid Sheriff Montague thinks your father has something to do with her death.” After glancing upward to the building"s side windows, she covered her mouth as if she"d been shocked to say something out loud about the incident.

“Dad"s hard to take sometimes, but he"d never hurt someone physically. He"s more a master of verbal insults.” I thought about his behavior the last few days. He"d become more strange, pensive, and closed-off despite my first chat with him. “Did Sheriff Montague accuse him of something, or are you reading between the lines?”

“Talk to him, Kellan. I can"t make sense of it.” My mother tilted her head to the side and began welling.

“Oh, don"t cry, Mom. Everything will be okay.” I pulled her in for a hug and patted her back. It was a rare moment to see my mother collapse.

“You were supposed to meet Abby, right? You could do a little investigating. See what she"d been doing recently or find someone else that detective could harass.”

“April Montague is not a detective, Mom. She"s the Wharton County sheriff. I"m sure she knows how to do her job. Asking Dad more questions could simply be to help find other suspects,” I said, uncertain whether I believed my own words. Sheriff Montague had it out for my family in the past.

“Please, Kellan. I ask little of you. I know I keep begging you to come back home, but the least you could do while you"re here is poke around. Isn"t that what you do for a living? Research? Figure out what happened in a crime and then write a show all about it?”

While it was a cursory explanation of my job, she had a point. “Sure, I"ll see what I can learn by asking some questions… starting with Lorraine. I"m on my way to see her. Was she particularly busy?”

My mother shivered from the wind. “Yes, a little frazzled. I got the impression she knew something but wasn"t comfortable telling me just now. I"m sure you can get her to talk. Lorraine always had a soft spot for you.”

“Is there anything you remember about the night of the party that might identify whom Abby was meeting at Diamond Hall?” She"d delayed chatting with me until nine, I presumed to give her time for her mysterious eight thirty meeting about a student"s grades.

“I don"t know if it has anything to do with Abby"s death, but I saw someone walking around the side of the building. I"d stepped outside to find your father when I noticed Coach Oliver.”

It was the second time I"d heard that name. “Who"s Coach Oliver?”

“Our athletic director. He oversees the school"s sports teams, practice fields, venues, and Grey Sports Complex, our main athletic facility. He"s a nice guy, but that man seems a little obsessed with winning all the games rather than keeping the students focused on their studies.”

“What time did you see him?”

My mother tapped her foot against the concrete steps. I could see the wheels turning inside her head as she thought about the night"s events. “About eight thirty. I waved to him, but he was on his phone. He seemed distracted. I"m certain he planned to stop by the party, but he never showed up.”

“Point out exactly where you saw him,” I instructed her. She noted the far corner near the oak tree and bench on the narrow path toward Glass Hall. Coach Oliver had been near the back entrance of Diamond Hall, where the lighting was dim.

“Surely, you don"t think he had anything to do with Abby"s death, do you?” A grim expression overtook my mother"s face while she moaned in an overstated fashion.

“I"m not certain. The woman I was supposed to meet with is dead. You"re worried the sheriff assumes it involves Dad. Now you tell me you saw someone near where Abby died under mysterious circumstances. Did you inform Sheriff Montague?”

A blank and disconnected look told me she hadn"t. “No, I didn"t think to. Should I call her?”

I shook my head. There didn"t seem to be any reason to share the news. I"d see if it were anything important before putting another family member in front of the persistent sheriff. Upon recovering from her worries, my mother walked toward the cable car to return to North Campus.

Exactly what I needed, another reason to put myself in the line of fire with the sheriff. I grew curious whether coach Oliver had authored the blog post or was the call I"d overheard in my father"s study.

I climbed the steps and entered Diamond Hall. A string of yellow plastic tape blocked the entrance to the second-floor staircase. A sign indicated all classes were moved to Memorial Library. Lorraine called to me from the other side of the hallway. “Kellan, I"m over here.”