CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The second morning went almost as smoothly, despite the fact that Seth couldn’t take the kids to school.
I dropped them off on the playground a little early, ignoring the glares of the mothers who had brought their children in early so they could have some mommy-child supervised time on the swings.
Anna’s anxiety kicked in, as she unbuckled her seat belt. “There aren’t any teachers here yet.”
I checked the clock on the dashboard. “They’ll be here in ten minutes. Don’t worry, there are plenty of mothers here.”
“But what if I fall down and no one notices?”
Ryan sighed. “Don’t fall down, dork.”
Anna looked at him, a frown on her face. “What if I do?”
Before I could think of an answer to allay her anxiety, Ryan spoke up, “Why don’t I stay and watch you until the teachers get here.”
I was shocked, but also very pleased. “Ryan, that would be thoughtful of you.”
Anna smiled, also pleased. “Would you play kickball with me?”
He sighed. “If you insist.”
As they climbed out of the car, I said, “Remember, Anna, Ryan needs to head up the hill to his school as soon as a teacher is on the playground. Otherwise, he could get a tardy slip. Don’t ask him to stay longer. Okay?”
Anna nodded. “I promise,” she said, crossing her heart solemnly.
Ryan rolled his eyes at me. “Don’t worry, Mom. I know what time to get to school. I won’t let the rug rat make me late.”
I said, “I trust you.” Even though a part of me wondered if it were too soon. Was he really ready? And another part knew that the only way to find out was to let him try.
Penny was already at her desk working when I got in. I comforted myself with the knowledge that Dr. Stubbs wasn’t there to notice my late entrance.
Kecia smiled when she saw me. “Molly, I have a favor to ask.”
“Sure. What is it?”
“Could you give me a ride to the funeral?”
I had been planning to walk, since it was on campus, but I said, “Sure.” Why not? Maybe Kecia would put a good word in for me.
“Thanks. I could walk, but it is all the way across campus, and even though Dr. Stubbs is going to close the office for the time we’re at the funeral, she won’t be happy if that includes the fifteen minutes it will take me to walk there and back.” She grinned wryly.
I nodded. “How about I do door-to-door service?”
“Would you?”
“For the prospective students? Anything.”
She laughed. “Thanks, I owe you. Here, let me give you my cell phone. You can text me when you’re downstairs, and I’ll lock up and run downstairs.”
We exchanged cell phone numbers and then, realizing that my work day was going to be shorter than usual, I hurried to my desk.
“Finding anything interesting?” I asked Penny as I turned on the computer and started the browser program.
Penny laughed. “More like terrifying. I hope my children will have more sense than to post pictures of themselves holding a can of beer when they aren’t legal drinking age.”
“I know.”
We chuckled to ourselves, and then Penny and I put our heads down and worked as hard as we could. I couldn’t help but notice that Penny’s “done” stack was growing faster than mine.
I tried not to let it affect my work. She’d come in a little earlier than me, I told myself. I had a pattern going. I’d take the student file, then pull up all the social media profiles the student had listed on their application. Then, I’d do a search on the student’s name to see if there were more things I should look at, like articles about a student athlete, articles by a student, etc.
Once I had all the information on the student up, then I’d pull up the university departmental overview site, so I could easily look to see what courses, programs and majors the university offered that might appeal to said student.
Only then did I start going through my gathered information and taking notes, documenting when and where I’d found the information, and how it could be used to persuade the student that our university was the best place for their bright little brain — beer-holding selfies notwithstanding.
When Kecia came in to let us know it was time to close the office to go to the funeral, I had a moment of dizzying transition. I’d been so engrossed in trying to figure out what this marine-mammal-loving student would find interesting about the university’s programs, that I had forgotten where I was.
I grabbed my purse, and said to Kecia, “I’ll text you when I pull up outside.”
“Great.”
I hurried to the parking lot, glad that I’d been able to get a close parking space this morning.
I pulled up in front of the building, and texted Kecia to come down.
She must have been waiting, because it only took her two minutes to show up.
I got the last parking space in the university chapel lot. “He was very popular,” I commented.
“He knew everybody and everything,” Kecia said. Then she added, “Maybe that’s what got him killed.”
What an odd thing to say, I thought. I was going to ask her more, but Dr. Stubbs saw us and beckoned us to join her. Penny was already by her side, of course.
“You drove?” she asked, disapproval clear in her tone.
Kecia said brightly, “I asked Molly to drive me, so that I could make sure the office was closed for the absolute minimum time possible.”
Dr. Stubbs couldn’t argue with that logic, so she contented herself with a regal nod. “Good thinking Kecia. Rob would have wanted it that way.”
I wanted to say, “Rob would probably rather not have died at all,” but it seemed too lighthearted.
I spotted Seth in one of the pews. “I should go sit with my husband,” I said. “Kecia, meet me at the car after the funeral, so I can get you back to the office as quickly as possible. Okay?”
Kecia nodded and Dr. Stubbs gave me a mildly approving look before she led Penny and Kecia to a pew near her.
I slipped into the seat next to Seth and he looked a little surprised to see me.
“Dr. Stubbs closed the office so that everyone in Admissions could attend,” I explained.
He nodded at the giant poster-board-sized picture of Robert Quartermaine. “This feels wrong. The last funeral here was Henry Simmons, from Chemistry. He was ninety-three. He died in his sleep.”
I thought of what Kecia had said, about Robert’s knowing everything and everyone. About that being what may have gotten him killed. “Did you know him?”
“Not well. He worked with me to help recruit some prospective students to the department.” He glanced around. “I probably knew him better than half the people here, though.”
“Death and chocolate, you know, both please a crowd.” The funeral was jammed with university people — I had the curious feeling that most of them were more likely enjoying a little time off work than actually mourning someone they knew. But then I felt guilty. Wasn’t that my situation, too?
The Quartermaines were there, at the front, all dressed in black. But even the black couldn’t hide the sheer charisma that emanated from everyone in the family. They sat as if apart, though, unmoved when anyone came up to express condolences. They were an island of unchanging volcanic stone in a moving sea of grieving university employees and students.
As the ceremony began, I twined my arm in Seth’s. His pants were covered with dog hair. “Where’s Jasmine?” I whispered, picturing the puppy happily chewing up a giant volume of Fluid Dynamics.
“Gracie is watching her for me.” He whispered back.
Of course. Gracie was the Physics department’s admin. She was always cheerful, always nosy, and always willing to lend a helping hand when she could. “I’m surprised she didn’t come today.”
Seth shrugged. “She drew the short straw. We didn’t want to close the office on the last week of classes before finals.”
“Smart.” Over the years of talking to Gracie at department functions I had learned that if there was anything worth knowing on campus, Gracie would know it. The administrative assistants on campus had a spy network to rival the FBI or the CIA. Gracie just called it ‘the network’ when she referred to it. As in “‘The network’ says Dr. Parker is looking for a job at MIT.” If I wanted to confirm any rumor, I just stopped by the department to chat with Gracie. I always brought her Snickerdoodles, which made her chatty.
I wondered if she could tell me anything about Robert Quartermaine? He was definitely the kind of person ‘the network’ would have loved to talk about.
His eldest brother certainly hadn’t revealed anything much when he spoke. Apparently Rob liked oatmeal with blueberries for breakfast, and rooted for the Dallas Cowboys despite having been born in Boston and worked in Maine. Neither one explained the murder. Well, I suppose being a Cowboys fan in the midst of Patriots people. But no Patriot would have stolen his backpack.
I did see Mrs. Quartermaine break down, once, when an impossibly young-looking freshman stood up to say that his influence had gotten her to come to the university and she would always be grateful to him for that.
I tried not to imagine how it would feel if I were sitting at the funeral of my own child. The tiniest tip of a toe into my imagination told me it would be worse than anything even I could ever imagine.
As soon as the service was over, I kissed Seth and told him I had to get Kecia back to the office right away.
“I was hoping we could grab lunch together,” he said. “Shake off some of this purposelessness.” He looked at Robert Quartermaine’s picture again. “He was so young.”
“Brownie points,” I reminded him, feeling guilty that he didn’t know I was trying to collect two sets of Brownie points, one for temp Molly, and one for spy Molly.
“Brownie points,” he agreed, with a resigned squeeze of my hand.
On my way out to the car, I saw James Connery looking at me. I started over, but he shook his head, and I redirected myself toward the car. Maybe he intended to follow me? I wasn’t sure how I was going to get him the thumb drive if I couldn’t talk to him.
As I unlocked the car door, Deb called to me, “Molly, hi!” She was acting so TV-sitcom-casual, I instantly knew she was on a mission from James Connery.
I smiled and kept my voice low as I said, “I found a thumb drive in Robert Quartermaine’s office. Can you get it to Connery?”
“Wasn’t it a wonderful service?” she said loudly, as if responding to something I said.
“It’s in here somewhere,” I grumbled as I dug in my purse, looking for the thumb drive, which I had thankfully remembered to put into a plastic bag. Theoretically, that would make it easier to find and protect it from any melting chocolate mints that might be nesting in the lining of the purse.
“Do you have a tissue?” She asked loudly.
I took her meaning, and handed her a tissue along with the wadded up plastic bag containing the thumb drive.
“Thanks! See you at the PTA meeting.” She hurried off again, just as Kecia arrived at the car.
“You aren’t in trouble, are you, Molly?” She stared after the departing Deb as if she recognized her, but didn’t know how.
I laughed. “No.” I realized that Deb had been wearing her uniform. “She’s my best friend. She wanted to snag a tissue from me. I guess the memorial service got to her.”
“I saw her talking to the FBI agent.” Kecia watched Deb as she reached James Connery.
“She’s ambitious,” I said, vaguely. Would Kecia be part of Gracie’s ‘network’ if she was only a temp? I didn’t know. “I think the FBI is here to investigate Robert Quartermaine’s murder.”
Hoping Kecia had not noticed there was anything besides a tissue in Deb’s hand, I added aimlessly, “She never remembers to carry tissues with her to events like this.”
“She must not be a mom,” Kecia said with a laugh, rubbing the butterfly tattoo at her wrist with nervous energy.
I smiled but didn’t laugh. I’d already thrown Deb under the bus more than she deserved. She was a mother, a good one. And she did usually carry tissues with her, right next to her pepper spray, and her Taser.
Kecia turned to look at where Deb and James Connery stood. “Why would the FBI be investigating a campus murder? I thought they did big crimes, like kidnapping, or crime syndicates.”
“There has been a rash of identity theft going on. Maybe they’re here to investigate that.” I said, hoping I was being vague enough. The news had certainly been all over the stories, including the student paper.
“Some people deserve to have their identities stolen, so they can start over with new ones,” she said as she got into the car.
“You wouldn’t be thinking of that perfect princess who had her phone stolen on her campus tour, would you?”
“Exactly. She could use an identity makeover.”
“Can’t we all,” I joked, glad that Kecia had not witnessed Deb hand James Connery the thumb drive. If she were a part of Gracie’s ‘network,’ I didn’t want that news traveling around with the speed of light-fingered admins.
We came back from the funeral quietly. No one seemed to know what to say.
Kecia sheltered behind the bulkhead of her reception desk, while Penny and I took refuge in our files.
Robert had been young. Too young. It was sobering to think how easily a life could end.
Dr. Stubbs came in about an hour after we’d returned, and the mood turned sad again, when she came in said, “Thank you again for coming to see him off.”
“I was glad to,” I said.
Penny nodded her agreement, but didn’t say anything.
Dr. Stubbs continued to look at us, before she asked, “How is it going?”
“I’m over halfway through my files,” I said.
Penny said, “I’m about three-quarters of the way through mine.”
Dr. Stubbs frowned. “Hmmm. I had hoped you’d have been finished the files by now.”
Neither of us said anything, as she considered. And then she asked, “Do you think you could stay just a bit longer this evening?”
When I say “asked,” I mean she asked as if she assumed we could. Dr. Stubbs was no dummy. She knew we wouldn’t be here, doing temp work if we didn’t want the job. We knew she was the one who would, ultimately, decide. So we’d dance to her tune or worry that we’d crossed ourselves off her short list for “failure to be a team player.”
I nodded. “I’ll just let my husband know. He can pick up the kids.”
Penny said, “My husband normally gets the kids, but I’ll text him to let him know to keep my dinner warm.” Braggart.