Divas and Dead Rebels (14 page)

Rather relieved that the responsibility was going to be hers instead of mine, I just nodded. “Fine with me. How well do you know her?”

“Only in passing, really. As I said earlier, I had attended a seminar with Spencer and was invited to a luncheon here at the house afterward.”

“Did you ever notice anything unusual between the professor and Hartford’s wife? I mean, Catherine certainly did hint that they hated each other.”

“I find it odd that she’d say that. Spencer and Victoria always seemed to get on well with one another. But of course, that was a year ago. Anything could have happened to turn them into enemies since then, I suppose.”

I said, “I remember Victoria from our freshman year. She was in our dorm. Kind of a hateful girl back then. She never made it to her sophomore year. And now she’s married to the star football player from the old days,” I added.

“So why would she have a relationship with Professor Sturgis, and then later say that she hates him?” Gaynelle wondered.

I shrugged. “Beats me. Sturgis definitely has—had—a combative personality. He was quite rude to Bitty, and his staff seemed afraid of him.”

“Afraid?”

“Oh, not in the usual sense, like he would attack them or anything, but as if they didn’t want to anger him or they’d be fired. That kind of afraid.”

“Yes, I can see that,” Gaynelle said. “He did have that kind of personality.”

I looked at her curiously. “Did you know him very well?”

“Oh no. Spencer Sturgis was not the kind of man one wished to know very well,” she said rather firmly. “Still, I admit to being surprised that he was murdered.”

“Why?”

“Because he just didn’t seem important enough to murder, if that makes any sense at all.”

It did. In my very brief acquaintance with the man, I’d developed a keen dislike for him, but nothing even close to the kind of passion it must take to murder someone. Not even Bitty had felt that way, although of course she had a bad habit of making inappropriate remarks. Sturgis just seemed like an annoying, rude man who got under the skin of those he taught or met. It would take a lot more than irritation or anger at a failing grade to kill a man, I was just positive.

Life, I have since realized, is an educational process that never stops.

We’d been standing in the dimly lit hallway whispering, so when Gaynelle saw someone approaching, she said loudly, “I just know the powder room is somewhere close by.”

Breck Hartford paused in the hall archway. “To your left, ladies. Second door on the right.”

“Thank you,” said Gaynelle with a smile, and we turned to our left and went down the hall.

I could feel him watching us, and when I chose to wait outside while Gaynelle went into the powder room, I looked toward him. Hartford had an expression of utter rage on his face. That’s the only way I can describe it. When he saw me staring, he give a start, his expression cleared, and he smiled, but the impression lingered even after he turned and walked up the stairs at the end of the hall.

Apparently, he was still upset by Catherine Moore’s tacky comments about him and his wife.

Catherine, I decided, was definitely someone I needed to talk to; she seemed to have all the good gossip. And gossip often turned out to have a kernel of truth that could lead to killers . . .

Chapter 7

Catherine Moore stood in the kitchen fixing herself a very dry martini with two olives when I found her. She glanced at me. “Martini?” she offered, and I shook my head in reply.

“No, thanks. I don’t do so well on straight vodka before dark.”

She laughed, a throaty sound. “How inconvenient for you. I don’t do well without it before dark. Too many annoyances, you know. So what really brings you down to Oxford today? I know it’s not to comfort a grieving widow.”

A little nonplussed by her astute comment, I decided to go with truth. “Bitty made me come with her.”

Catherine took a sip of her martini, folded her arms across her chest and leaned back against the kitchen counter. She was really an attractive woman. Her dark hair was beautifully styled, her clothes obviously expensive, and her makeup artfully applied. She reminded me of Anne Bancroft, the lovely actress who played Mrs. Robinson in the film,
The Graduate
. Catherine had the same blend of self-possession and wry humor.

“Bitty is a force of nature,” said Catherine with a smile. “She hasn’t changed at all since college.”

“That’s a rather daunting thought.”

“Isn’t it? Yet she makes it work. I know she isn’t that friendly with Emily, so there has to be another reason you all came down from Holly Springs today. Should I try to guess?”

“If you want,” I said with a laugh. “Or I could just tell you that Bitty likes to keep up appearances.”

“I’m sure she does. As long as it’s convenient.” Catherine took another sip of her drink then said, “I heard that Bitty and Spencer had a major row the day he was killed. I don’t suppose her showing up today has anything to do with that?”

“Why would it? It’s a little late to make amends with the professor.”

“Um,” she replied with an arch of her brow. “I came today just to make sure that Spencer is really dead. He’s no loss to the academic community, I can assure you of that. I hope there’s an open casket service so I can see for myself that it’s him and not some other jerk being planted six feet under.”

“I take it you weren’t one of his biggest fans.”

She smiled. “Hardly. He was an obnoxious, selfish, horrid beast of a human being with forged credentials that got him this position. But then, maybe I’m a bit prejudiced.”

“
Forged
credentials?”

“Yes. He was under closer inspection when he was lucky enough to be murdered instead of tossed out on his ear.”

“Who found out his credentials were forged?”

Catherine smiled again. “I did. I always knew there was something off about that little toad, so I checked up on him. It’s true that he attended Harvard as he claimed, but he never graduated with a master’s degree, a PhD, or any other degree for that matter. I can’t imagine why no one found it out before I did.”

“I thought the process was more careful.”

Catherine drained the last of her martini and turned back to the counter to make another one. “It usually is. That made me wonder just who Sturgis bribed to get on as a professor.”

Her caustic comments opened up an entirely new train of thought, and I began to see a host of reasons why the professor might have been murdered.

“Did you decide on the bribee?” I asked after a moment, and she laughed her soft, husky laugh again.

“Yes, I certainly did. But don’t worry. I fully intend to take that up with them in my own time.”

For some reason the only reply I could think to make to that comment was, “Be careful.”

Catherine winked at me. “Sugar, I always am. It takes a lot to scare me.”

Bitty chose that moment to find me in the kitchen. Chen Ling was in her usual place on Bitty’s chest, peering at me with a disgruntled expression. Yes, pugs have facial expressions.

“Who’s scared?” asked Bitty as she joined us.

“Me,” I promptly replied. “The growth on your chest is glaring at me.”

“Pooh. Chen Ling doesn’t glare. She’s always sweet to those who are sweet to her.”

“Ah, so that’s the trick to it. Thanks for sharing.”

“Hi Cat,” Bitty said to Catherine. “Those olives take up too much room in that glass, don’t they?”

Catherine laughed. “I soaked them in vodka first.”

Bitty nodded approval. “Perfect. Trinket,” she added, looking at me, “we need to go visit the boys if I’m going to catch them between classes. Are you ready to leave?”

Since I was more than ready to leave but not quite ready to relinquish my talk with a source of valuable information, I nodded and said, “Catherine, I’d love to have a drink or lunch with you one day soon. We can finish our conversation.”

“Call me Cat,” she said. “All my friends do. Bitty has my numbers, so just give me a call, and we’ll meet somewhere for lunch.”

I nodded and said I would, then followed Bitty and Gaynelle out to the car after making my goodbyes to the recent widow. Sunshine flirted with clouds, and patches of light wavered here and there as we drove away from the Sturgis home. Tree-lined streets were quiet and orderly, with no hint of the murder that had recently disturbed the peace.

“Well,” said Bitty, “you and Cat seemed thick as thieves. What on earth were you two talking about?”

“Murder,” I said. “What else?”

Gaynelle laughed. “It’s certainly the main topic these days. Did you find out some good information?”

“Maybe. Cat seems to think Sturgis bribed someone to get his position as history professor.”

“Good lord,” muttered Bitty, “why on earth would anyone pay money to teach ancient history to disinterested students?”

“I don’t know, but she does. And she knows who the bribee was, too.”

Bitty looked at me. “Who?”

“That’s what I hope to find out if and when I have lunch with her. Maybe Sturgis made a threat to reveal the person who got him his fake credentials or accepted him as a university professor, and they murdered him.”

“If he did that,” said Gaynelle, “he would have been revealing that he’d given a bribe to get his position.”

“Good point.” I thought for a moment. “What did you find out about the laundry delivery?”

“An interesting fact. Emily said they don’t have their laundry delivered. She just assumed Spencer picked it up on his way home.”

“What laundry?” asked Bitty.

“Spencer’s,” replied Gaynelle. “But I’m sure the police have already made that discovery.”

“Probably,” Bitty said as she made a rolling stop at a four-way intersection. “The police usually figure out everything long before we do. I say let them have at it, and we stay out of it.”

“Bitty, that’s the most intelligent thing I’ve heard you say in some time,” said Gaynelle.

I turned to look at her in the back seat. “Don’t hold your breath that she does it. She changes her mind more often than Congress.”

“I just want to make sure my boys are safe, that’s all.” Bitty slowed down for a yellow light and looked over at me. “That’s all I want.”

I patted her arm. “An admirable goal.”

We found Brandon and Clayton in the Student Center. They were in the outer lobby area with a group of kids their own age and were laughing and teasing one another like college-age kids usually do. Across the lobby, a bookstore sold tee shirts, books and everything Ole Miss, from bumper stickers to coolers.

“Look at them,” Bitty grumbled, “like they haven’t got a care in the world. Here I am worrying myself to death that they’re all upset at being suspects.”

“Maybe they don’t know they’re suspects,” I suggested. “It’s not like anyone has told them what was in their closet.”

“True. Do you think we should—”

“No!” I said before she could finish her sentence. “The less they know, the safer they are, remember?”

“All right. But I hate keeping secrets from them.”

“Nonsense,” Gaynelle said calmly. “You do it all the time.”

Instead of arguing, Bitty just nodded acceptance. About that time one of the boys looked up and saw us standing near the entrance, and nudged his brother. Both of them got up from their seats, said some goodbyes, and then started toward us.

“Such handsome young men,” Gaynelle commented, and Bitty beamed with pride.

“Aren’t they? And smart, too. Even if Brandon decides to go into law, I’m very proud of both of them.”

I still hadn’t heard what Clayton had decided to do after college and hoped that he took after Bitty and not his father. Or maybe took after his grandfather or uncle. Bitty’s brother had a business of his own down in Jackson and manufactured something like grommets for engines. I think. Truthfully, it’s a rather dull thing to do, but he makes good money, so I guess I’d prefer Clay take after him rather than, say, Frank Caldwell.

“Mama, I hope everything’s all right at home,” said Brandon when they reached us, and Bitty nodded.

“Everything’s fine at home, but how are you two doing here?”

“You mean because Professor Sturgis was murdered?” asked Clayton. “Police came around and asked us all questions about where we were Friday morning and all that, but as far as I know they still haven’t found out who killed him.”

“Are you okay with all this?” I asked, and Clayton shrugged.

“It doesn’t bother me, but it is kind of creepy that he was murdered and nobody knew about it for a couple days. I heard that Randy Klein might be involved, since the professor was found in the truck he’d rented.”

“Who’s Randy Klein?” Bitty asked, and looked from Clayton to Brandon. “Do you know him?”

“No,” Brandon said at the same time Clayton said, “Not real well.” They looked at each other, and then Brandon continued, “Clay has a few classes with him. I don’t.”