TUESDAY 7:47PM
“Two beef tacos, one chicken taco, chips and salsa, medium Coke, and a lemonade.” The Taco Mondo employee, Ray by his nametag, set the red plastic tray on the counter.
“That’s us.” Jerry stepped forward.
Ray tapped a button on the register. “It’s $9.45.”
Jerry reached for his wallet, but Darla grabbed his hand. “I got this.” She pulled an obsidian American Express Card from her purse, inserted it in the payment terminal, and picked up the tray. “Grab some napkins and straws.”
“Thanks for getting dinner.” Jerry was relieved that his finances wouldn’t take another, albeit minor hit, but felt awkward at having Darla pay.
“Not a problem. I hope the food is good.”
“I’ve never been here. No reason to come to East Stuyvesant before.” Jerry held up his phone. “But it’s got a four point eight on Yelp!”
They picked a table near the back of the restaurant.
Darla said grace, then crunched into her taco. “Not bad.”
Jerry took a bite and nodded.
Don Henley’s “Dirty Laundry” blared from Jerry’s phone.
Darla rolled her eyes. “Are all your ringtones from the 80s?”
“It’s Rachel.” He answered the call. “What’s up?”
“I’ve got news. Fallon didn’t kill Professor Harding. She was on the other side of campus when the murderer struck.”
“She told you this? Or you have witnesses?”
“Better than that, Jerry. We tracked her phone.”
“Huh? Tracked? Who’s we?”
“Remember when I asked how the campus cop found you in the Student Center, and I wondered if the U was tracking our phones? They are. Steph, one of my nerds, hacked their system. Fallon was on East Campus in or near McGrath Hall, over half a mile from the Whitmore Building, when Professor Harding was killed.”
Jerry’s mind reeled with possibilities. “Hey, if you can determine who wasn’t near the building, you can also figure out who was there.”
“Steph counted over three hundred phones in the area at the time of the Professor’s death.” Rachel said. “But the tracking isn’t precise. We can’t tell if they were actually in the professor’s office, in the hallway, on the same floor, or walking past the building. Plus, there’s no way to track anyone who doesn’t have the app on their phone.”
“Still, you could run that against Professor Harding’s list. It might give us a lead.”
“OK. Will do. What are you up to?”
“Just dinner.”
“If I learn anything more. I’ll let you know.” Rachel ended the call.
Darla dipped a chip into the salsa. “What was that all about?”
Jerry shoved the phone into his pocket. “Rachel says Fallon can’t have killed Professor Harding.”
“I believe I came to that conclusion hours ago.” Darla’s eyes widened. “So that makes Professor Johnson your prime suspect?”
Jerry shook his head. “I’m not sure I would characterize him as a suspect, prime or otherwise. Just want to ask some questions.”
“Is there anyone else on your list?”
“I don’t even have the list Professor Harding gave me anymore. Rachel has it and is narrowing it down.”
Darla finished the last of her taco. “What are you going to ask Professor Johnson?”
Jerry grabbed a napkin and wiped beef juice from his chin. “Start with what was going on with his geology class. The bad luck demonstrations and his disappearance.”
Darla drummed her fingers on the table. “If he really disappeared, it will be weird to find him at his house.”
“Perhaps it’s a gag, like Fallon thought. Then I’ll ask about Professor Harding and judge his reaction.”
Darla slurped her lemonade. “Still think that’s dangerous. Can’t you call the cops? Let Billy handle it.”
Jerry frowned. “Can we please not talk about Billy?”
“Ooh, someone is jealous. Relax, you’re the only boy for me.” She leaned across the table and kissed him.
Jerry licked his lips. Maybe next time he should order the chicken taco. “About done?”
“Yep.”
They stood. He picked up the tray and dumped the trash. Arm in arm, Jerry and Darla walked out of Taco Mondo and into the October night.
* * *
Jerry drove his Ford down Wolfe Street. “That’s the professor’s house coming up on the left. The one with all the lights out.”
Darla squinted through the car window. “Not encouraging.”
Jerry cruised past the house, not slowing down.
“Where are you going?”
“There’s a park at the end of the street. I’m going to leave the car there. I don’t want it sitting outside of the professor’s house.”
“Why?”
“I have my reasons.” Jerry killed the engine and unbuckled his seatbelt. “You don’t have to come with me.”
“Oh, I’m coming. Parked way down here, I’ll never be able to tell if you need help. Besides, remember.” Darla ticked off her fingers. “I figured out the bad luck connection. I got the info on Professor Harding’s murder. And I paid for the tacos.”
“That last one is an argument I can’t refute.” Jerry grabbed his backpack.
Out of the car, Darla sniffed the air and scrunched up her nose. “Skunk.”
“Is that bad luck?”
“No, silly.” Darla poked him in the ribs. “It smells.”
Jerry rolled his eyes. “Come on.”
They crossed the street to the side with the professor’s house and headed down the sidewalk. A few houses had outdoor lights on. Jerry jogged up the walk and steps to Johnson’s porch with Darla in tow. He checked the mailbox. Only the Comcast flyer that he saw earlier in the day.
“Tampering with the mail is a federal offense.”
“Who’s tampering?” Jerry retrieved the note he left under the knocker, crumpled it, and shoved it in his pocket. “My expectations are sinking by the minute.” He banged the doorknocker three times. “Fallon was supposed to see if the professor was in his office today. Now that she’s in the clear, I can ask what she found out, but I don’t have her number. Maybe Rachel does.” He texted Rachel.
Darla pressed her face against the sidelights. “Too dark. I can’t see a thing.”
Jerry banged the knocker again. Still no answer. “You should go back to the car.”
“Me? What about you?”
“I’m going to go around back and see if I can slip inside.”
“Jerry!”
“Shhh! Don’t alert the entire neighborhood to the plan.”
Darla leaned closer. “Breaking and entering is a crime.”
“So is murder. If I can find some evidence, then I can tell the police, like your friend Billy. Or maybe the professor’s innocent, and I can move on.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“No way, Darla.”
“Don’t argue. You know you can’t win.”
In the faint light, he could see her lips twisting into a determined smile. “Fine. Follow me.”
Down the steps, around the side, up the driveway to the backdoor. Jerry tried the knob. Locked.
Darla looked around. “Now what?”
Jerry retrieved a pair of latex gloves from his backpack and slipped them on.
“That’s not going to help. Your prints are on the mailbox and the knocker.”
“Nothing illegal about knocking on the door. Doesn’t prove I broke in.” Jerry pulled out his wallet and removed the emergency credit card. “This used to work all the time on old episodes of The Rockford Files I watched with my dad.” He forced the card into the gap between the door and the jamb. He slid the card up and down, while jiggling the knob. After thirty seconds of effort, the knob turned, and the door creaked open.
“Outstanding!” Darla pumped her fist.
“Shhh! Last chance. You can still go back to the car.”
She crossed her arms. “Nope.”
“Put these on.” Jerry retrieved another pair of gloves from his backpack.
“For me? That’s true love.” She leaned her head on his shoulder.
“Actually, I know how stubborn you can be.”
Darla stuck her tongue out.
“Come on.” Jerry pulled out two flashlights and handed one to Darla. He pushed the door open and stepped into the kitchen.
Darla followed and closed the door. “What are we looking for?”
“Good question. Books or magazines on magic? Day planner? A computer would be nice. Check out everything and let me know if something seems odd or suspicious.”
They exited the kitchen and entered the dining room. The table had place mats for four, but no settings. A breakfront filled with china stood against the far wall. On a small table lay a photo from the eighties based on the clothes and hair. Two parents and two teen-aged children. The boy looked like a younger version of Professor Johnson’s photo from the VBU faculty website.
Moving on from the dining room, they entered a room with a flat screen TV mounted on the wall, a sofa, two recliners, a coffee table filled with knick-knacks and magazines, and a roll-top desk. Darla flipped through the magazines: Time, The Economist, Sports Illustrated, Geo-Physical Sciences Monthly. Jerry inspected the desk: stamps, envelopes, pens, and pencils. In the drawers, he found a mess of cables and consumer electronic manuals.
One more room on the first floor. Jerry poked his head in and swung the beam around. A home gym: exercise cycle, weights and weight bench, treadmill, and the floor covered with mats. In the corner was a litter box.
“This floor is a bust,” Jerry observed. “Let’s try upstairs.”
“Lay on, Macduff.”
Jerry took his time climbing the stairs, the wood creaking with every step.
“Why so slow?”
“Figured I should be cautious. I’m kind of new at breaking and entering.”
At the top of the steps, Jerry flashed his light down the hallway. Two doors on each side and what looked to be the bathroom at the end. He opened the first door on the left and entered what appeared to be the master bedroom. The bed was made. The room neat. Jerry opened the dresser drawers and found underwear, T-shirts, and socks. Darla inspected a closet full of suits, jackets, shirts, and slacks. On the nightstand were a clock/radio and a paperback Lawrence Block mystery.
“Another dry hole.” Jerry frowned.
The other room on the same side of the hallway appeared to be a guest bedroom. Perhaps it belonged to Peggy or Mark when they were growing up. Again, the bed was made. Dresser and closet empty.
Nothing of interest in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom at the end of the hall. Two rooms left. What about a basement? Jerry didn’t remember seeing any door that could lead down. Was there an entrance outside of the house?
The next room could also have been a child’s bedroom but was now a library with packed bookshelves lining the walls. A computer monitor sat on a desk in the middle of the room.
“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Jerry eased into the roller chair and inched forward. The tower was on, but the screen blank. He jiggled the mouse, and the monitor blinked on. A Windows 10 logon screen. “Mark” pre-populated the username field. Fingernails caressed the back of Jerry’s neck; soft lips brushed his ear.
He jolted upright in the chair. “What are you doing?”
Darla giggled. “Helping.”
“If you want to help, check the bookcases for titles related to magic or the supernatural. I’ll tackle the desk and computer.”
He searched the drawers, hoping for a list of passwords or even a sticky note, but discovered only software manuals and licensing agreements.
Jerry turned to the computer and tried: Password. No good. Password123. Again, no good. Iloveyou. Bzzt. This would likely be his last chance. By default, Windows 10 allowed four failed attempts.
“I’m seeing lots of dust covering thick books on geology, plus plenty of mysteries and thrillers. But nothing to do with mag—Aah!”
“What’s wrong?”
“Something brushed my leg.” Darla scanned the floor with her flashlight. The beam landed on a gray-and-white cat. “Kitty, you scared me.”
“You’re not the only one.”
Miaw! The cat brushed against Darla’s leg again.
“I bet he’s hungry.” Darla picked up the cat. “I saw empty bowls in the kitchen.”
“He?”
Darla illuminated the cat’s collar. “Yep, tag says Boris. I’m going to feed him.”
“Feed him? Now?”
“Yes, now.” Darla scratched Boris’s ears. “Who knows how long the professor’s been gone?”
“Darla, I appreciate your concern for the cat, but feeding him is a terrible idea. It might tip off someone that we’ve been in the house.”
“I can’t let him starve.” She aimed her beam at a bookshelf. “That’s as far as I got.” She whispered in the cat’s ear, “Allez minou,” then walked out of the room and creaked down the stairs.
Jerry shook his head. Feeding a cat during a burglary? Darla never ceased to amaze him, but maybe she had solved his problem without even trying. He typed Boris into the password field and pressed the enter key. The computer beeped and a pop-up informed him that the account was locked out.
“Crap!” Jerry pushed back from the desk, rolling to the bookshelves. Starting with where Darla left off, his eyes flicked from title to title. After three bookcases, Jerry suspected this was all a colossal waste of time. Either Professor Johnson had nothing to do with the bad luck, or he was smart enough not to leave evidence lying around. On the next to the bottom shelf of the last bookcase, he saw a familiar griffin figure on the spine of a blue book.
He pulled the book out. Curse Tablets and Binding Spells: Women’s Magic from the Ancient World. The same book that Professor Harding had shown him. He knew he’d seen the book somewhere else but couldn’t place it. He inspected the volume. Unlike most of the other books, this one was dust free. Too much of a coincidence. Professor Johnson must be involved with the deaths on campus. Jerry returned the book and searched the last two shelves, but nothing stood out.
Back to the computer. Unlocked. Definitely Windows default settings. The account re-enabled after ten minutes. Jerry tried: QWERTYUIOP, 1234567890, Passw0rd, and BorisTheCat. The last attempt locked the computer again.
He could ask Mike or Talia if they could whip up a gizmo that could decrypt passwords. But Jerry wasn’t sure about pressing his luck and breaking into the house a second time. With no more bookshelves to search, he turned to the printer stand. A single sheet of paper lay on top of the printer. He grabbed and illuminated it.
I’m responsible for all the carnage on campus. And I killed Ellen. I’m sorry. May God have mercy on my soul.
Jerry’s mouth went dry, and his heart pounded as he reread the note.
“Jerry! Come here!” Darla’s voice was filled with terror.
“Shhhh!” He replaced the paper on the printer.
“Jerry, now!”
He raced to the hallway. Darla stumbled out of the one room they hadn’t searched. She grabbed him, buried her face in his chest, and sobbed. He flashed his beam into the room.
A knocked over chair lay on the floor. A body hung from the rafters with a noose around its neck. Jerry aimed the beam at the head and gasped when he saw Professor Johnson’s face.