I didn't recognize the voice that answered my seven AM phone call, but the woman all but leapt through the earpiece at me before I could apologize and hang up.
"Thea, I'm so glad you called me back," Mrs. Peabody said. Her voice transformed to recognizable and I heard a long exhale of what had to be relief.
"What's wrong?"
"You won't believe how awful everything has become here."
"What's going on?"
"The police have been at the museum every single day. They've found -- well, you know the specimens you couldn't find?" In her rush to tell me she was tripping over words. "Thea, they started doing some checking and they're telling me there are quite a few more fossils missing. You would not believe how many people have been in here, poking around, making a mess, and questioning my procedures. I have told them over and over. They simply will not listen. That detective thinks the missing fossils have been stolen and Andrew had something to do with it!"
"You're kidding." No wonder her messages sounded so anxious. She not only lost someone who was dear to her, but had to endure this insult to them both. The poor woman needed a sympathetic ear and I hadn't been here to answer her calls.
"I wish I were. That man told me it would have been easy for Andrew to steal specimens to sell, because his office was here in the archives and he had constant access to the storage rooms." Her voice ended on a shrill note. There was a pause and a sniff before she continued. "Thea, Andrew was a good man, an honest man. He loved his work. I know he would never have done something like that!" She sounded as though she were in tears. "That man even implied I helped steal fossils, too! I'd never do that!"
"Of course you wouldn't. I could tell that the first time I met you." I could hear her blowing her nose. Once she was back on the line, I continued. "Surely, once they find out who killed Andrew they'll be able to clear him of any wrongdoing. I think you should do your best to keep helping them --"
"Well, of course I will." She was indignant.
"Remember, they don't know you. Try not to take their questions too personally. It's their job to suspect everyone until the case is solved."
"That's not all." Her tone was overly controlled. My attempt to soothe had missed the mark. I braced. "They seem think Dr. Hudson may be involved, too."
"What!" The word exploded from my lips. "That's insane! Involved how? What did they say?"
"I just overheard bits and pieces of what they were saying, but it sounded like they think Dr. Hudson knew about it and was helping Andrew in some way."
"No! That can't --"
"It's true. I cornered Dr. Whitaker yesterday afternoon and he told me he's aware of what is going on and trying to help --"
"Trying to help? Trying?" I was on my feet, one hand fisted in my hair.
"But he wouldn't tell me anything, except he's as shocked as I am the police would suspect two of his professors. Poor man. He's so busy as it is and now this. He said he's had to cancel his vacation so he can deal with these problems."
Poor man? Whitaker? How about Paul? "I should think a vacation would be the last thing on his mind at the moment. He must be able to help clear them."
"I don't know what he can do. The police --"
"I need to come down there," I said, pacing at top speed. "I need to talk to somebody about this. It's not right!"
"Oh Thea, would you mind? It would mean so much to me if I knew I could count on someone. It might be best if you started with Dr. Whitaker. He might talk to you more freely than me, since you're not an employee. I'm so upset I can't think straight."
"I'll call his office. Maybe I can get in to see him today."
"I hope you can help. I know Andrew and Dr. Hudson had nothing to do with the stolen fossils. And Thea, that detective said…." She took an audible breath. "He said Andrew may have been killed because of his involvement in the thefts."
I assured her she could count on me, hung up the phone, and sat with a thud on the kitchen stool. Now I had no doubt what Paul had been trying to keep from me and why he didn't want me going back to the archives. Why hadn't he told me? Didn't he know I would be on his side and try to help? If the police believed Andrew was involved in the fossil theft and were implying Paul was too, they must think Paul was somehow connected to Andrew's death as well. The thought made me break out in a sweat. Whoever killed Andrew, and stole fossils from the Burke and from Paul's site, was either the same person or part of the same group.
Damn him! He was trying to handle this alone. But there was nothing he could do to help himself while he dug around in the dirt out in the middle of nowhere.
I rubbed my temples, trying to think. A plan -- I needed a plan. Obviously, there was nothing I could do as long as I remained uninvolved and depended on Mrs. Peabody for information.
Dr. Whitaker was as good a starting place as any, but would he give me any information? I straightened, slid off the stool and walked to the window, staring out at nothing. He had no idea who I was and wouldn't give out information to a stranger about something going on within his department. I was going to have to lie about my right to know. I couldn't claim I was Paul's family or wife. He would know or have access to that information. However, it was possible he wouldn't know if Paul had a fiancée. Provided he didn't immediately ask him, and that, I feared, was a possibility. I chewed my lip over the deceptive turn my thoughts were taking. Well, there was no helping it. I grabbed my purse and car keys, then slid my feet into my sandals. I would have to drop by unannounced and barge in, hoping campus security wouldn't haul me out. I tried not to think about how easy it was for me to concoct these lies.
Arriving at my house I said a hurried good-morning to my parents, and patted myself on the back for having the good sense to call Mrs. Peabody from the apartment and not my office where my parents would overhear. I changed into the only summer suit I had, added a pair of expensive pearl earrings Jonathan had given me last Valentine's Day (that had no sentimental value), the blue amber necklace Paul had given me before he left (that did have sentimental value), and the sapphire and diamond ring that had belonged to my grandmother (on my right hand, for now). The assumption was if I dressed well, appeared well off, and therefore possessed some influence, I would be more apt to get information out of Dr. Whitaker. I gave my makeup and hair one last check, glad, once again, that I'd had my hair cut. The new layered style was not only more flattering, but I had the semblance of someone who could afford to keep up with current fashion trends. Satisfied, I exchanged my usual hand bag for the Louis Vuitton Jonathan had bought for me (he was proving useful after all) and went out to say good-bye to my parents.
"Wow, aren't you a picture," my father said, looking up from the morning paper.
"Oh, thanks," I said. "I've got a potential new client to see. I don't think I'll be home for lunch."
"Oh, that's okay," my mother said walking in to the living room with a cup of coffee in her hand. She was in a rare, reasonable state at the moment. "We're all going down to Seattle see your grandmother to tell her about Juliet's engagement and introduce Eric to her. I expect we'll be gone most of the day. I saw that suit in your closet, by the way." She looked me up and down. "I was thinking that shade of gray would wash you out, but that teal blouse brings out the color of your eyes. You should consider highlighting your hair, though. Your sister's going to, and your hair is so much darker than hers…." She rearranged a couple of strands over my forehead. "The layers would show up more."
"You think so? That's a good idea," I said.
"What a pretty pendant." She leaned, inspecting Paul's gift.
I touched the tear-drop shaped piece of amber where it lay, close to my throat, as I had done when first Paul fastened it around my neck. "Thanks. Paul gave it to me."
"What is it?"
"Blue amber."
"Hum. I've never heard of that."
"It's rare. If you hold it up so the light shines through it, it looks yellow." I demonstrated, as much as the chain would allow. Mother nodded.
"Well, it's very pretty with those little silver leaves that attach it to the chain. And it goes well with what you're wearing."
I smiled. Paul had said that, too -- except I hadn't been wearing anything at the time.
"I have to run. Have fun, and say 'hi' to Grandmother for me." I gave them each a kiss goodbye and ducked into my office for my briefcase (for show)."Tell her I'll stop by to see her before I leave for Montana at the end of the month."
My next stop was Copper Creek Equestrian Center to put my back-up story into motion.
"Juliet's got the day off, I thought you knew that," Delores said to me when I approached her outside the Lesson Barn.
"That's okay," I said grabbing her arm and propelling her toward the office. "You're the one I want to talk to."
"Well, I can see you don't want to go into the barns dressed like that," she said, allowing herself to be dragged.
"It's about Paul," I said, when we got inside. She opened her mouth to make a comment but I beat her to it. "And don't you dare call him a 'dumb ass.'"
"Okay." Her lips pursed and one corner twitched down, like she was struggling with a grin.
"He's got a problem," I said. She started to speak, and I gave her a warning look. The same side of her mouth turned up. "It's not his fault, and he needs our help."
"Okay," she repeated then cleared her throat. "I gather this has to do with the theft you told me about. What's going on?"
She sat at her desk, listening, and watching me pace while I told her about Mrs. Peabody's rumor, and my plan to extract information from Dr. Whitaker.
"Paul hasn't told you anything except that the site was robbed?"
"Right. And to stop asking questions."
"My guess is that he knows, or suspects, something and is trying to protect you. Are you sure he's being evasive?"
"Yes," I said a wee bit impatiently. "If you'd seen our instant message conversation you'd think so, too."
"Well, go grill this Whitaker character if you feel you need to. I'll back you up if he should call, but don't count on him being particularly forthcoming." Her gaze settled on my grandmother's ring. "I'd switch that to your other hand before you forget. Call me when you get home."
I opened the door to the office of Dr. D. Stedtler Whitaker, Dean of the School of Applied Sciences and strode into the spacious office. Scott Loch, grad student and secretary-for-the-summer, was trailing behind me making noises about the good dean being busy, no time in his appointment book, and things of that nature. I couldn't play this avoidance game and give him time to check my story.
Whitaker, dressed casually in a light blue, short-sleeve silk shirt with no tie, was seated at the large cherry desk in the center of the sumptuous office and was in the process of hanging up the phone. He looked up in mild surprise as my stiletto heels cracked a crisp couple of notes on the oak floor before being hushed by the plush Oriental carpet.
Scott was whining plaintively a few feet behind me. "Sorry, sir, I tried to tell her you were busy."
"That's all right, Scott," he said.
I introduced myself. Whitaker extended a well-manicured hand across his uncluttered desk and shook mine in a manner that was brief, light, and told me distinctly not to linger.
"What can I do for you?"
I got to the point. "I understand Dr. Hudson is somehow implicated in the museum thefts and I want to know what is being done to help clear him."
Dr. Whitaker cocked his head and gave me a cool look. "You do, do you? And your interest in this matter is … what, Miss Campbell?"
"Quite personal. His family and I are appalled at these rumors. I'm his fiancée."
It wasn't a total lie. I was sure Paul's parents would be alarmed if they knew. I watched Whitaker's eyes move to my grandmother's ring, and congratulated myself on a well-thought-out tactic.
"How did you find out about this?"
"You mean besides the article in the paper? A friend called and told me."
"Who's your friend?"
"No one you'd know. And, since these rumors are going around, it won't be long before my phone is ringing off the hook."
"Well," he said, and nodded slightly before gesturing toward the chair I was standing next to. "Please sit down. Perhaps I can explain."
"I hope so," I said, lowered myself onto the smooth leather seat and straightened my skirt.
Dr. Whitaker's eyes darted around the bookshelf-lined walls of the room. The hesitation bore an uncanny resemblance to what happens to a newscaster when his teleprompter isn't right on cue.
"As you are apparently aware, things have gotten rather complicated since Dr. Fogel's death a week ago." His composure rallied and he steepled his fingers, touching them to his beard in a prayer-like gesture. The heavy, brushed-steel bracelet of his watch slid a fraction of an inch on his wrist. I waited. "We've discovered there are a number of fossils missing from the archives … not insignificant ones, I might add. In fact, they are pieces a collector might want to have, but then you are aware of that. Unfortunately, Andrew appears to have been involved in their disappearance, and it seems Paul is, too."
He was telling me what I had already heard, so I pushed. "That's ludicrous, you must know that. Paul would never do what you're saying."
"I would like nothing more than to agree with you." He sighed as he leaned back in his chair. It creaked in an expensive way. "But, the police have found a preponderance of evidence to the contrary."
My nerves twanged. "Like what? What could possibly implicate him?"
"Correspondence. They found letters in his office, requesting he procure specific fossils for a certain client, and promising to pay him well for his efforts. I'm afraid, Miss Campbell, the evidence, although in my opinion circumstantial, the police believe to be weighty."
"I'd like to see the letters."
"I'm afraid the police took them."
I looked away. The situation was worse than I imagined. If I could see the letters -- I pushed a lock of hair out of my eyes. My hand trembled. "There has to be a mistake …." My voice, over soft, trailed to a pleading whisper.
"No mistake."
The room was distinctly smaller and lacked oxygen. I was way out of my depth. I wanted to throw a window open and gulp fresh air.
"I sorry, I know this is a terrible shock for you." He leaned forward, his expression kind. "Believe me, I was surprised as well, and I assure you I am using all my influence to guarantee Paul is being treated as equitably as possible. I want to believe this is a mistake. Once we get to the bottom of it, I'm sure we'll find that it is. But, because of Andrew's murder, the police feel they must investigate every possibility." He looked down, scratched the back of his head, then smoothed his hair before returning his gaze to me. "In fact, if it weren't for my insistence, Paul would have been called back to Seattle to face an inquiry, but he's being allowed to continue his class because I have vouched for his honesty and integrity."
"You vouched for Paul? He couldn't manage it himself? He deserves an opportunity to defend himself."
"I'm sorry." He cocked his head, and his eyes softened. I knew condescending when I saw it. "I know how difficult this must be for you, and I commend you for standing by him in such a difficult time. This sort of thing can put a severe strain on any relationship and, frankly, no one could blame you if it becomes more than you can handle."
Bail on Paul now? I shot cold silence at him.
"But to answer your question, Miss Campbell, I've kept most of the information from him. He doesn't realize yet the extent to which the police think he's involved. His work is important to him, as I'm sure you know, and I don't like to distract him -- until it becomes necessary. I'm doing my level best to field all inquiries." He studied me for a moment before doing the same to his desk top. He drummed his fingers on the armrests of his chair. After the blatant pondering he leaned forward, a pained expression turned his mouth down. "I hate to ask you this, but would you help me out and keep as much of this from him as possible? I know he would feel compelled to return home at once and well, not only is there nothing he could do, but it would be an academic nightmare -- not just for the undergraduate students who are with him, but for his graduate assistant as well. Perhaps you know her, Pat Powell?"
"I haven't met her." And at the moment, I couldn't give a rat's ass about her. I'd been wrong about why Paul was being so secretive. I knew more about these problems than he did.
"Lovely young woman." He straightened a pen on his desk with a finger tip. "Promising career. In fact she's got job offers already, pending graduation. She needs this summer's course to complete her degree requirements. I'd hate to delay her graduation because of having to cancel this class."
On the other hand, maybe I did need to be concerned about her, but not in the same manner as Whitaker.
He caught my severe expression, cleared his throat and moved along. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you the kind of administrative disarray the University would have to unravel, as well."
"I can imagine." Red tape is so damned important. Just like lovely Miss Powell.
"I know it's not a comfortable thing for you to do, but it would be best for him and everyone else. I feel certain I can handle this end. You have my word that I will tell him when it becomes necessary."
He had me in a corner. If I insisted Paul be told, he'd come home to right this wrong, everyone would know what was going on -- the board of Regents, the public, everyone. All hell would break loose. I had to keep silent, and let Paul remain ignorant, to protect him and others. I had to trust Whitaker. And right now I'd had enough of him. "All right."
Dr. Whitaker put both hands on his desk top, nodded and gave me a sympathetic smile. "Good," he said, and stood, extending a hand.
I rose and didn't attempt a smile -- or a handshake.
"Well, er … thank you." His arm dropped to his side. "I appreciate your cooperation. It will make my job so much easier." He came around his desk and walked me to the door. "I'm happy to have met you, Miss Campbell. Paul is a lucky man to have found someone such as yourself. I wish you both happiness. Please let me know if there is anything at all I can do for you."
"Thank you," I said, then remembered and turned back. "One more thing."
His eyebrows raised.
"The investigation into Andrew's death … what have they found out?"
He seemed to stumble into his answer. "I don't know. It's complicated, and the police don't want to make a mistake. They haven't given me much information except to say the thefts and black market sales may be tied to his murder."
Of course. I straightened my shoulders and left. Scott was at his desk. He didn't look up as I passed, and I had no desire to speak to him.
The farther I drove from the University the madder I got. Whitaker had taken advantage of my shock. If I'd been thinking I never would have agreed to keep information from Paul. It was unfair. He had a right to know about it. To hell with Whitaker. If anyone could keep a cool head, it was Paul. He would do the right thing.
Furthermore, he must suspect what was going on. Nothing else explained his behavior. Not even lovely Pat Powell. But if Whitaker hadn't told Paul, how would he have found out? The answer had to be Scott.
Scott. Scott seemed to be turning up everywhere. He was certainly in a position to know and do quite a lot of things. I didn't like him, and the more I dug the less I trusted him. It wouldn't hurt to find out more about him.
Paul must not suspect Scott was a problem. How could he when he was hundreds of miles away? This would be so much easier if we could communicate. But he wasn't having any of that. And Whitaker wanted to keep him out of the loop. I had only one option, if you discounted doing nothing. I'd have to save his ass without his help. If I could figure out how.