Emily shoved the suit back into the bag and whipped out her phone to call Colin. He didn’t answer, so she left a cryptic message: ‘Call me as soon as you can. And don’t bother testing Sidney’s clothes.’
She wished with all her soul she had her old office back, or some kind of private place on campus where she could keep her discovery safe and be alone with her thoughts. Home it would have to be. She made room in her wheeled briefcase for Sidney’s bag, pushing it clear to the bottom where it would be covered by her other things.
She left the restroom and headed first toward the door by which Sidney had left the building. Then she realized that path would lead her directly past the Russian House, where he had presumably been going. She changed course and went back to the main entrance instead. From there she could take a path that led along the far side of the parking lot, skirting the block of dorms altogether.
Darkness was closing in, and with it the clouds that had been lowering all afternoon. The first fat flakes of snow drifted before her as she pushed the door open.
She hurried along the walk, head down to keep the snow out of her eyes. The path was well lit but deserted. Emily would have given much to be surrounded by a bustle of people until she was well clear of Sidney’s dorm.
The snow was escalating rapidly, forming a soft carpet that muffled her footsteps as she walked. That meant it would also muffle the steps of anyone who might be approaching. She raised her head and looked around, but the snow was already so dense she could not see beyond the halo of the streetlight under which she was passing. She wondered if her project of walking home was really so wise after all. Maybe she should have begged shelter in Marguerite’s office instead.
She passed out of the light’s halo into darkness. Now she had to focus on the path, which she could barely discern as a smooth gray space between two swaths of more textured gray on either side. As she approached the next streetlight she raised her head again, and looming out of the darkness beyond its halo she saw a shadowy form.
Emily slowed, her heart in her throat. Should she turn and run? Pass on as if all were normal? Or take her stand under the light and confront this shadow, which she was sure must be Sidney?
She took a deep breath and reminded herself that Sidney did not know she had found the bunny suit. He had no reason to think she even suspected him of the murder, let alone that she had what was probably proof of his guilt. She could simply act normally and nothing untoward would happen.
God willing.
The shadow moved into the light. Between the layers of coat, scarf, and hat she could barely discern a pair of round, wire-rimmed, cold-fogged lenses. Sidney.
As if on cue, they both put on bright smiles. Emily hoped hers didn’t look as fake as Sidney’s did.
‘Professor Cavanaugh,’ he hailed her. His voice held an edge of something – hostility? fear? – beneath its surface cheer. ‘What brings you out on a night like this?’
‘Just trying to get home,’ Emily replied. ‘Although I must say that looks a lot more difficult now than it did when I left the library. I can’t believe how quickly this snow came on.’
‘Let me escort you. I can’t claim to have snow-melting superpowers, but at least I can catch you if you slip.’
Emily thought fast, not allowing her smile to waver. The last thing she wanted was to be alone with this young man, either on the street or, God forbid, in her own home. But it was probably a good idea to keep him close until she could get in touch with Colin.
‘You know, on second thought, I’d rather wait out the storm on campus. I think I’ll go back to Paradox Lost and have some hot chocolate. If you’d like to join me? I’m buying.’
‘How can I resist such a charming proposal?’ He offered her his elbow. As she was hesitating – trying to overcome her aversion to touching him, even through layers of cloth, so as not to arouse his suspicions – another shadow loomed up behind him.
Colin’s voice spoke out of the whirling snow. Emily’s relief was palpable.
‘Emily? I got—’
Before he could say more, she interposed loudly, ‘Detective Richards! Mr Sharpe and I were just on our way to Paradox Lost for some hot chocolate. Care to join us?’
Colin’s mouth snapped shut as Sidney turned back to face him. That had been close. If Colin had said anything to betray that Emily was on to Sidney – well, she didn’t want to think about what might have happened.
‘That would just about hit the spot. I’m frozen to my core.’ Colin stepped between Sidney and Emily and offered Emily his arm. Thank God he’d inherited his uncle’s chivalry. ‘Where is this Paradox Lost? You’re not talking about the regular Paradox, I hope? That’s clear across campus.’
‘No, this is an outpost right here in the science building. Just around the corner.’ They headed back the way Emily had come.
Colin kept up a breezy chatter as they walked, but Emily could feel the tautness of his arm through the layers of gloves and coats. He was on the alert lest Sidney make any move to escape, or worse.
But apparently Sidney was still at the stage of caution where he felt, as did Emily, that acting normally was the best defense. They reached the café without incident.
Emily stepped toward the counter, but Colin moved ahead of her. ‘Allow me. Three hot chocolates, please,’ he said to the barista. Then he ushered the other two toward a table. All his actions sent the message that although he’d been late to the party, he was in charge of this encounter.
That was fine with Emily – in fact, she was grateful – except that Colin still didn’t have all the facts. She racked her brain for a way to communicate with him without Sidney hearing, or at least suspecting something.
She positioned her briefcase on the floor between her chair and Colin’s and unzipped it, pretending to look for something. With a lightning glance at Colin that she hoped was full of urgency, she held the compartment open for a moment and pushed her books out of the way so the plastic bag was visible. There was no way to communicate what it contained or how she’d come by it, but at least Colin seemed to get the message that the bag was in some way significant, and that this significance should not be betrayed to Sidney.
They talked about the weather – which at this point was worth talking about – until their drinks were ready. After a few sips, Sidney excused himself, looking quite uncomfortable, and headed toward the restroom. Emily supposed his bowels had absorbed the fear he was trying so hard to conceal.
When he was out of earshot, Colin whispered to her, ‘There’s no other way out of here, is there?’
‘Not that I know of. Not even a window in the restroom.’
‘Good. Now what’s in that bag?’
Keeping an eye on the restroom door, she related to him in an undertone her experiment in covert surveillance and what she had discovered. ‘The coverall’s been wiped off, but it still has pinkish smears on the front and one tiny spot in the seam that looks like blood.’
Colin gave a low whistle. ‘Sounds like we’ve got him.’
Emily hushed him with a look. ‘He’s coming.’
Colin whipped out his phone and sent a text. Backup, he mouthed to her. He just managed to slide his phone back into his pocket before Sidney reached the table.
Emily divined the need to keep Sidney in place and unsuspecting until the backup arrived – which, given the weather, could take a while. Time for a spate of gripping small talk. Not, unfortunately, her strong point.
‘Paideia’s drawing to a close, I’m afraid,’ she said to Sidney. ‘Have you managed to accomplish whatever it was you set out to do in this time?’
His smile seemed sinister, but perhaps it was just her imagination. ‘I believe so,’ he said. ‘At least, the really important things.’ He volunteered no information about what those were. Surely he couldn’t have come to campus this month with the express goal of killing Taylor Curzon and framing Daniel for it. ‘What about you, Professor? How is your research coming along?’
‘Pretty well, all things considered.’ This was an exaggeration, but perhaps after tonight she’d be less distracted. She ventured on another tactical fib. ‘I’ve decided to narrow my focus somewhat. I’m concentrating on Dostoevsky’s treatment of repentance and restitution. The redemption of the fallen man.’
Sidney bared stained and crooked teeth in a derisive grin. ‘Redemption? An outmoded idea, surely. People don’t change – at least, not for the better.’
‘Oh, but I believe they can and do, with the help of God. Dostoevsky certainly believed that. Look at Raskolnikov. Or Dmitri Karamazov.’
‘Spending their lives in exile? You call that improvement?’
‘I’m talking about internal change. They were both determined to live better lives, to overcome the demons within them. And they’d made a start on that by the ends of their respective stories.’
‘But what about Ivan Karamazov? Or Rogozhin from The Idiot? You can’t say they were redeemed.’
‘They lacked faith. Descent into despair or madness is often the lot of those who lack faith, if they’re faced with a crisis.’
He snorted. ‘And what about Prince Myshkin? He had faith, and look where it got him. A gibbering idiot with no hope of recovery.’
‘Myshkin was a martyr. His mind was defeated by its own illness and by the actions of the people around him. That doesn’t mean his soul was damned. I’m sure that even through the wreck of his physical brain, his soul was held tenderly in the hands of God.’
At this point Emily realized that both her companions were staring at her uncomprehendingly – Sidney because he had no understanding of spiritual matters, Colin presumably because he was not familiar with Dostoevsky. And perhaps he had no understanding of spiritual matters either. One could be a good cop without believing in redemption, she supposed.
‘I see Dostoevsky as focusing on retribution,’ Sidney said. ‘People get what’s coming to them in his stories. Exile, imprisonment, madness, murder.’ His eyes darkened and a shadow passed over his face. ‘Suicide.’
A shiver passed through Emily as she remembered Smerdyakov’s untimely end. It occurred to her that perhaps being arrested would prove to be Sidney’s salvation – from himself.
Sidney stood suddenly, jostling the table and sloshing hot chocolate out of all their cups. ‘If you’ll excuse me—’
Colin leapt to his feet a split second after Sidney and grabbed him by the elbow. ‘I don’t think so, Mr Sharpe. You’re coming to the station with me for further questioning.’
Sidney spluttered, attempting vainly to wrench his arm free. ‘You have no right—’
‘I have every right. Because of something Mrs Cavanaugh has right there in her bag.’
Emily pulled out the white plastic bag with its distinctive Eddie Bauer logo and held it well out of Sidney’s reach.
He lunged for the bag, toppling the flimsy table and spilling hot chocolate everywhere. Emily retreated out of reach, shoving the bag under her now-sopping coat. Colin grabbed for Sidney’s coat collar, but Sidney twisted away and made for the door.
The door opened from the outside. Two uniformed policemen stood in the doorway.
‘Grab him!’ Colin shouted. And they did.
To her astonishment, Colin invited Emily to ride along with him to the station while the uniforms took Sidney in their black-and-white. ‘I’ll need to get a formal statement from you about finding that bag. May as well do it now.’
Emily would have preferred to wait until they could drive in snow-free daylight, but she supposed time was of the essence. ‘Of course.’
‘I’m hoping Wharton will be gone for the day and the captain will let me question Sharpe on my own. You can watch through the two-way mirror if you want.’
Emily’s natural curiosity warred against her compassion – or was it merely squeamishness that made her reluctant to witness Sidney’s further degradation?
‘We’ll detain him for now while we get the bunny suit tested. Unless we get a confession – then we can arrest him right away. Otherwise, once the suit tests positive for Curzon’s blood and Sharpe’s DNA, we’ll arrest him and let Daniel go.’ He blew out a long breath as he inched the car through the swirling whiteness. ‘And then I’ll find some excuse to hightail it out of town, because Wharton is going to be out for my blood.’
‘Why? If you’ve found the real murderer?’
‘Because I’ll have done it all on my own – with your help, of course, but behind Wharton’s back. I will have exonerated his pet suspect and grabbed all the glory for the real catch. Not the way to win friends and influence people at this station.’
Emily had no response. Of course, she knew cops were people too, as fallible as anyone else; but it saddened her that they would let personal jealousies and resentments take precedence over the conscientious execution of their duties.
‘At least I’ll have to put up the best case I possibly can so the captain will back me up. You worked out how Sharpe did it?’
‘I think so. In fact, Sidney as the killer makes better sense of the Bronze Horseman statuette than any other theory we’ve looked at. He knew where Daniel kept the statue and what it meant to him. He was always hanging around the library; he could have taken it at any time.’
‘OK, I see that. But that makes the killing totally premeditated. And why frame Daniel? I thought he worshiped him.’
‘Worship can so easily go sour, especially if the idol proves to have feet of clay. Daniel’s only human. I don’t know what specifically he may have done to turn Sidney against him, but I imagine it wouldn’t have taken much to tip the balance.’ She thought back over the scenes she had read that afternoon between Smerdyakov and Ivan. ‘Or, conceivably, he could have set Daniel up in order to provide himself with a safety net – not planning on Daniel being arrested, but ready to drop him in it if Sidney were arrested himself.’
‘Hmph. Well, setting that aside – walk me through how you see it playing out that night.’
‘This is pure speculation, of course, and I haven’t had time to iron out the wrinkles yet. But let’s suppose Sidney planned ahead how to do the murder, but not when. He stole the statuette and the bunny suit in preparation, maybe even carried them with him in his bag. Then Monday night he ran into Daniel wandering around in a fugue state and he thought, here’s my chance. He must already have known Taylor was still in her office – in fact, he was most likely telling the truth about having been in the building at ten-fifteen.’
‘Yeah, no reason to think otherwise. Maybe that bit about seeing Daniel there was on the level too.’
‘Possibly. But he wouldn’t have wanted Daniel around while he was actually doing the murder – in case Daniel remembered it later on. Maybe Sidney took him along to the Paradox to establish his alibi and parked him there, hoping he’d stay put. Then Sidney went back to Vollum, put on the bunny suit – possibly in the restroom, though he’d have risked being seen – then went to Taylor’s office and killed her. He stashed the bunny suit somewhere, planning to dispose of it later. Maybe he even had the gall and the incredible luck to wash it off in the Vollum restroom without being observed.
‘After that, he went to get Daniel, who may or may not have stayed in the Paradox all that time, but anyway, Sidney found him. He took Daniel back to Taylor’s office, where they “discovered” her body. Somehow Sidney got Daniel to touch the body – probably encouraged him to check for signs of life, maybe try to revive her – so Daniel got her blood on his clothes. Oh, and at some point in this whole process, Sidney wrote Daniel’s initials in the appointment book.’
Colin shook his head. ‘This “plan” has so many variables, it blows my mind that it almost succeeded. I guess even for killers there’s some equivalent of beginner’s luck.’
‘I know. Fortune favors the bold, I suppose. Anyway, after that he probably escorted Daniel back to his dorm and put him to bed, making sure he didn’t change out of his bloody clothes.
‘As for what Sidney did with the bunny suit – where he stashed it, why he didn’t put it in the dedicated laundry bin right then – I have no idea. Maybe he had a hiding place he thought was secure, but after your last interview with him he got the wind up and decided the bin would be more anonymous, less likely to be traced to him.’
‘But surely he would have known his DNA could be on the suit? He may be crazy, but he isn’t stupid.’
Emily shrugged. ‘Either he forgot about that, or he trusted the suit wouldn’t be found and linked to the crime. Or he thought he himself would never be suspected and tested. If he is indeed mentally ill – and I think he is – that kind of arrogant assumption wouldn’t be out of character.’
By this time they’d reached the Hawthorne Bridge, where the colder pavement over the water risked turning the growing carpet of snow into ice. Colin slowed to a crawl, although he had taken the time back on campus to put chains on his tires. ‘Once we get over the bridge we’re almost there,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘God, I hate snow.’
Emily had always loved snow in the past, but tonight it did seem sinister. With the swirling whiteness obscuring all the modern buildings and freeways around her, she could almost believe herself to be crossing the Neva, heading toward the majestic Baroque streets and squares of St Petersburg. She could be inside one of Dostoevsky’s novels – where anything might happen.