Calvin still hadn’t returned by the time Deena and I closed the shop. I planned to head straight for my folks’ house for dinner. Dumbbells closed early on Wednesdays, so it was the one day I could count on a home-cooked meal. I asked Deena if she’d like to join me—I was sure Mom wouldn’t mind.
She paused in the middle of wrapping a bouquet she’d made for herself. “That’s a tempting offer. I’d love to actually. But I promised my mom I’d help her tonight. She’s making final preparations for the Lee family reunion next month.” She looked genuinely disappointed.
“Another time then.” I had a feeling Deena’s regret wasn’t solely on account of my mom’s cooking. I’d have to ask her about that another time.
My parents lived in a two-story brick house in a quiet cul-de-sac. The plot of woods behind the backyard was the site of endless adventures for Rocky and me when we were kids. When my mom shooed me out of the kitchen, telling me to relax before dinner, I decided to take Gus for a walk through the trees, revisiting some of the well-worn trails of my youth.
At first it was a lovely little stroll. I’d always drawn energy and comfort from the nearness of trees. But as the shadows lengthened, and the crickets chirped a lonely evening song, my skin began to prickle. Suddenly, I became aware of how isolated I was. With the leaves at their fullest and no one else around, I might as well have been in the middle of a dense, dark forest.
I shouldn’t let myself become complacent, I realized. Especially considering there was still a murderer on the loose.
Urging Gus along, we returned to the house at a fast clip. Once we were safely inside, I resolved to set my fears aside, but stay wary. I fed Gus, then checked my phone, hoping for a message from Calvin. There was none. I thought about sending him a text, but I wasn’t sure what to say. I tucked my phone back in my purse and decided I’d forget about him for a while.
Sitting at the kitchen table, with Rocky across from me and Mom and Dad at the two heads (and all three wearing matching Dumbbells sweatshirts), I unfolded my napkin and admired the delicious-looking feast. The table was laden with platters: garlic and lemon baked salmon, tangy three-bean salad, roasted baby red potatoes, and farm-fresh sweet corn. I took a bite and was savoring the flavors when my mom had to go and bring me back down to earth.
“I heard the police searched Calvin’s apartment today.” She slathered butter on her corn but her eyes were on me.
I set down my fork. “Where’d you hear that?” As if it mattered.
“Charlene mentioned it,” she said, referring to an aerobics instructor at the gym. “She’d heard it at Nell’s Diner.”
Dad narrowed his eyebrows, as he sliced into his salmon. “Does Calvin have a lawyer? He should hire one, if he doesn’t.”
“I think he does. At least, he mentioned speaking to one.”
“I don’t suppose the police found anything,” said Mom. “Did they?”
I stabbed into a potato a little more aggressively than necessary. “No. They didn’t find anything.”
“I wonder if they received a lead or a tip. Is it true Calvin had a history with the professor?”
And that was pretty much how the whole supper went—my parents grilling me about the case and me trying to defend Calvin. Rocky attempted to change the subject a couple of times, to no avail. My parents kept circling back to the murder. I knew they were just worried. That’s why I didn’t dare mention the storeroom incident. If I did, they’d probably pressure me to board up the shop for good and join them in the family business.
Somehow I still managed to enjoy the food. After dinner, I volunteered to clean up and load the dishwasher. “Rocky will help. Won’t you, Rock?”
“Sure,” he said, good-naturedly.
We put away the leftovers and condiments, then stood side by side at the sink. He rinsed the dishes and handed them to me to place in the dishwasher. I wanted to ask him about his personal life—and, in particular, if he was interested in Deena. But he spoke first.
“So, Bart asked about you yesterday. At Dumbbells.”
“He did? What did he say?”
“Not much. He just said, ‘How’s Sierra?’ He’s not a big talker.”
For a second, under the clink of the dishes, I thought Rocky had said stalker instead of talker. I glanced toward the window and the darkness beyond. “He called me last night,” I said quietly. “He’s starting to weird me out.”
Rocky squeezed the water from his dish rag. “Do I need to have a talk with him?”
Normally, I would’ve laughed at the proposition. Now, I said, “I don’t know.” Bart hadn’t really done or said anything overtly inappropriate. It was more a feeling I had. Well, that and the fact that he hadn’t been entirely truthful to me. “Do you know anything about Bart’s wife? Like, whether she died or left him?”
Rocky shook his head. “I didn’t even know he was married.”
I heard my phone ping from my purse, where I’d left it hanging on the pantry doorknob. I dried off my hands to check it.
“It’s not Bart, is it?” said Rocky.
“No. It’s a text from Calvin.” I frowned as I read it. “He said he won’t be in to work tomorrow.”
“He hasn’t been arrested, has he?” There wasn’t a single hint of humor in Rocky’s voice.
“No. He said he needs to take care of a few things. He’s going to Knoxville.”
I stared at my phone, as a million thoughts floated through my head. Was Calvin fleeing from the law? No. That didn’t make sense. If he were, he wouldn’t tell me where he was going. Come to think of it, I wasn’t sure if he was even allowed to leave town. I assumed the police couldn’t restrict his movements without a court order, but appearances mattered. Taking off didn’t exactly smack of innocence. It would probably be a quick trip.
Rocky watched me with a mixture of curiosity and concern. “That sounds kinda vague. What kind of ‘things’?”
My mind whirred. It had to relate to Professor Lowry’s murder. Considering the missing key card and the professor’s strange behavior—not to mention the unusual attitude of the three student suspects—the answer to the mystery must lie at the university.
Calvin probably realized this. In order to clear his name, he’d need to uncover what was really going on with the professor. He must be heading to Knoxville to do just that. It was what I would do. In fact, now that I thought about it, it was definitely what I wanted to do.
I looked over at my brother, still standing at the sink. “Rocky, can you do me a huge favor?”
“Yeah, if I can.”
“Will you keep Gus tomorrow? I need to take care of a few things.”
I texted Calvin, asking if we could talk, but he didn’t reply. Then I tried calling him several times over the course of the evening. When he failed to pick up, I ended up sending him one last text before I went to bed: I’m coming with you. Don’t leave without me.
The next morning, I arose extra early. I dropped off Gus with Rocky, then swung through Coffee Art Café for two coffees and a couple of banana-nut muffins. When I arrived at Flower House, Calvin was just exiting the back door. His eyes flickered with guilt when he saw me.
I handed him a coffee and the paper bag, then I patted my purse. “I have my road-trip playlist all queued up on my phone. The coffee’s hot, and breakfast is in the bag. Do you want to drive, or should I?”
I grinned impishly, as I waited for his answer. He was tough to read, but he seemed conflicted. At last, he relented, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’ll drive.”
It was a clear, sunny morning, and already shaping up to be a scorcher. Calvin’s car was a functional beater he’d recently picked up on the cheap at a used-car lot. At least the a/c worked. As we set off on the two-hour drive to Knoxville, we fell into a light friendly banter, as if we hadn’t a care in the world.
“Where’s the little guy?” he asked, flipping his visor up as we headed west. “I thought you were turning into one of those people who takes their dog with them everywhere.”
“Ha. As if you’re not a dog lover too.” Using a paper napkin, I handed Calvin a muffin, then took a bite of my own.
“I am,” he conceded. “I wouldn’t let a dog sleep in my bed, though.” He knew from our past conversations that Gus regularly slept at my feet.
“Oh, really? You’d turn Gus away? Reject his furry snuggles? Somehow I doubt it.”
He shrugged. “I’m just saying. It’s important to have boundaries.”
“Right.” I smirked knowingly. I’d seen Calvin and Gus napping in a chair together on more than one occasion. He loved the pup as much as I did.
I told him Gus was with Rocky. I also mentioned I’d asked Deena to hold down the fort at Flower House. I wasn’t sure what time we’d return, but I assumed I’d miss the drop-off from Bart. Which was fine with me.
Taking a careful sip of coffee, I shoved aside thoughts of Bart. “If anyone asks, Deena will say we’re out delivering flowers. I figured we probably shouldn’t advertise this little excursion. Don’t you think?”
“Yeah,” said Calvin shortly. His jaw twitched, and I felt a kick of sympathy. He had to be thinking about the seriousness of his predicament.
“So, what’s the game plan?” I asked. “Are we going to break into Lowry’s office? Hack into his computer?”
Calvin raised his eyebrows. “Not if we don’t want to get arrested. Jeesh. Am I going to have to leave you in the car?”
I playfully swatted his arm. “I’d like to see you try.”
He grinned briefly, then concentrated on the road in silence. I studied his profile, from his earnest blue eyes to his chiseled jawline and soft lips.
“Are we going to talk to people?” I guessed.
“One person in particular,” he said. “One of Lowry’s Lackeys who didn’t come on the trip. His name is Benji. I’ve been trying to get a hold of him, but he won’t return my messages.”
“Ah. Are you sure he’s in Knoxville? Maybe he went home for the summer.”
“He’s there. I asked a teacher I know to check for me.”
“Cool.” I still liked the idea of snooping in Lowry’s office, but I’d wait and bring it up again later.
The closer we got to Knoxville, the more withdrawn Calvin became. His tension was almost palpable. I longed to reach out and rub his shoulder, to loosen him up and distract him from his worries. But I held back. I didn’t want to risk any awkwardness between us. Instead, I put on my tunes and filled the car with happy, thumping funk music. It was impossible to feel too low beneath a soundtrack of James Brown’s soulful shrieks.
When we arrived in the city, I turned down the radio and looked out the window. Knoxville wasn’t as big as Nashville, but it was still a thriving, picturesque city—the largest in Eastern Tennessee—with plenty to see and do. I wished we had more time to spend here. The prospect of taking in the sights with Calvin, maybe catching a show or dining on some excellent Southern BBQ, was mighty appealing. Alas, it wasn’t to be. At least not today.
Calvin headed straight for the university. When we reached the campus, he turned into a visitor parking lot and found an empty space.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said, cutting the engine.
“Yes?”
“I need to find Benji’s address. The only way I know how to do that is to access the student directory … which means we may have to sneak into Lowry’s office after all.”
“Yay!” I clapped my hands together like a little kid.
“To be more precise, I think you’re gonna have to do it. I can’t let anyone see me.”
“Yay?” I repeated, much less enthusiastically.
He grabbed a baseball cap from the back seat and donned a pair of dark sunglasses. Then he led the way to the science building.
Although the second session of summer school was in full swing, we didn’t encounter very many people on our way. Calvin pulled out a university key card to access a back door of the modern redbrick building. “I kind of forgot to turn this in when I left,” he said under his breath. “And Lowry was too preoccupied to remember.”
I grinned at his cheekiness. “Lucky for us.”
We slipped up to the third floor and hovered outside an administrative office. Removing his sunglasses, Calvin peeked through a window, then ducked to the side. “This is going to be tricky.”
“Where’s Lowry’s office?” I whispered.
He pointed to the left. “Down that hall. But we’ll need a key—which is in the admin assistant’s desk.”
I peered in the window too. Besides the admin assistant, who perched officiously behind her desk, there were at least two other people in the office. My mind conjured various diversions, each more outrageous than the next. I was just looking around for a fire alarm I could pull, when the jingling of keys announced the entrance of a maintenance man. He was short and stocky with a shock of salt-and-pepper hair, and he wore a blue-gray work shirt with matching pants. As he walked by us, Calvin quickly leaned close to whisper in my ear—and effectively hide his face.
“Dang, that was close,” he murmured, his breath tickling my neck. “I know that guy. He would have recognized me for sure.”
With Calvin’s close proximity, I could smell his spicy sandalwood aftershave. It was so nice, I was tempted to lower my lids and breathe it in. Instead, I kept my eyes trained on the maintenance guy. He headed down the hallway toward Lowry’s office.
“I have an idea,” I said softly.
Calvin looked over his shoulder, then straightened. “What is it?”
“Instead of getting the key from the office, why not get one from the janitor?”
Calvin’s face cleared with relief. “That’s a great idea. I bet Terry could be persuaded to help us out.”
“You mean like with a bribe?” I’d never known anyone to offer or accept a bribe in real life, and I had no idea what it would take. I tried to remember how much cash I had in my purse. It probably wasn’t much more than twenty dollars.
“Not necessarily. Some fast talking might do the trick. Come on.”
We rushed over to the hallway and chased after Terry, the maintenance man. He rounded a corner at the end of the corridor, so we sped up. By the time we reached the next hall, we saw him enter a glass door marked Aquaponics.
“We need a private place to talk to him,” said Calvin. “That’s as good a place as any.”
The aquaponics lab was dimly lit, with purplish LED grow lights over several rows of green leafy plants. Beneath or near the plants, aquarium pumps bubbled and splashed, while goldfish and koi darted silently through the water. I paused in front of one of the fish tanks, mesmerized.
From somewhere within the lab, there was the sound of a trash can scraping along the floor, and then the click of a door opening.
“There he is,” said Calvin softly. “The labs on this floor are interconnected. I think he went into the next one.”
I followed Calvin deeper within the room. When we reached the door to the adjoining lab, Calvin started to pull it open, then froze. “There’s someone coming, and it’s not Terry. It’s … Bart!”
Casting about for a place to hide, I spotted a closet at the back of the room. “In here!” I said, tugging on Calvin’s shirttail.
We darted into the closet and pulled the door shut most of the way. I peeked out through the narrow slit. Sure enough, Bart Hammerson entered the aquaponics lab, swinging an empty plastic shipping container. He sauntered by, seemingly in no rush, and idly gazed at the nearby fish tanks.
What is he doing? He’d obviously completed his flower delivery and now seemed to be wandering around.
“Is he still there?” Calvin whispered close to my ear.
“Yeah,” I breathed. Now that the initial shock of seeing Bart was wearing off, my attention shifted to Calvin’s nearness once again. Standing together in the pitch blackness reminded me of the night the power went out after our dinner at my house.
At that moment, Bart shuffled near the closet, causing my heart to skip a beat. Biting my lip, I willed him to keep moving. Thankfully, he did. A few seconds later, another door opened and Bart crossed into the lab on the other side of the aquaponics room.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I reached for Calvin’s hand in the darkness. “I think he’s gone,” I whispered.
“Good,” he said, squeezing my hand. When neither of us made a move to leave, he said, “Déjà vu, eh?”
“I was just thinking that!” Instinctively, I turned toward him. “Cal?”
“Yeah?”
I didn’t know what I was going to say. Maybe I’d make a declaration of my feelings, or maybe I’d crack a joke. All I knew was I really wanted to kiss him. Then I was distracted by something that caught my eye at the rear of the closet.
“What’s that light?” I said.
“Huh?” He turned and saw what I’d noticed: a thin, barely perceptible crack of light. It appeared to outline a narrow door.
Moving farther into the closet, Calvin pulled out his phone and directed its light to the back wall. Under the glow, the outline disappeared. It was only in the darkness that we could see the slim light.
“Weird,” he muttered. “There doesn’t seem to be a doorknob.”
“What’s on the other side of this room?” I asked.
“Nothing that I know of. This doesn’t make sense.”
I fumbled in my purse and grasped hold of a metal fingernail file. “Let me try something,” I said, squeezing up next to him.
He lowered his phone so I could see the line of light again. I forced the file into the tiny crack and worked it back and forth, trying to pry the door open. It didn’t seem to be working. I was about to give up, when my fingers touched a metal protrusion along the edge of the doorway. It felt like a keyhole. I stuck the file in the opening and turned it. The door clicked open.
“You did it!” whispered Calvin. “Holy cow.”
The door swung toward us, letting in a bright shaft of fluorescent light. Cautiously, we peered through the doorway into what appeared to be a small, old laboratory. It was empty of any occupants, so we stepped inside and looked around.
“Don’t touch anything,” Calvin murmured.
I nodded, as my eyes took in the small room. It was a compact space, painted white, with a center island, a stainless-steel sink, and plain cabinets above and below counters along each side wall. The island and countertops held a few pieces of equipment, including a microscope, a Bunsen burner, a high-speed blender, and a hot plate supporting a large stainless kettle. On one of the counters was a row of empty sixteen-ounce glass jars and a funnel. There was also a box of latex gloves.
“A secret lab?” I said. “What is this, a drug operation?”
“I don’t know,” said Calvin. “It’s not a meth lab, I don’t think. Not that I’ve ever seen one.”
He was right. This room seemed far too clean to be an illegal meth lab. There were no chemical odors, tubing, or any of the household products used to make methamphetamine. Nor were there any vials, powdery residue, or plastic baggies that might indicate a cocaine or heroin operation.
Walking slowly around the island, I tried to imagine what it was we’d stumbled upon. I was dying to look in the cabinets, so I plucked a single glove from the box on the counter. Using my gloved hand, I pulled open one cabinet at a time. The top cabinets contained glass bottles and more jars, as well as some dusty test tubes, flasks, and beakers. The bottom cabinets held bulky black garbage bags. Kneeling on the floor, I pulled open one of the bags.
Calvin came up behind me. “Be careful,” he cautioned.
Through the opening of the bag came a familiar nutty, earthy scent. Gingerly, I placed my gloved hand inside and let the contents slip through my fingers. Cupping my palm, I scooped up a small handful and brought it out to the light, revealing a clump of tiny black seeds. Poppy seeds.
Calvin whistled. “That’s a lot of poppy seeds. You could make, what, a million muffins?”
“Or something else.” My eyes flitted from the pot on the hot plate to the funnel and jars.
“What are you thinking?” said Calvin. “Not opium. Opium comes from the milky fluid in poppy pods. Not the seeds.”
“True. But the unwashed seeds contain alkaloids. Even the washed, processed seeds used in cooking can result in a positive drug test.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that,” said Calvin. “I assume these are unwashed.”
“I do too.” I knew from Granny that parts of the opium poppy plant, including the seeds, could be brewed into a tea for medicinal purposes. I also knew they could be abused.
“What are you thinking?” Calvin repeated.
“I’m thinking I know what was in Professor Lowry’s canteen.”