Saving Face (Mount Faith Series: Book 1) (13 page)

"Then we go through the red tape," Natasha said. "We have to wait."

"You know," Harry said leaning back in his chair, "I was thinking. There are a few people here who show no remorse at the man dying and they freely admit it. His wife, Bancroft... who wanted his job...and his secretary. This Kellove person is the only one who may be able to tell us more about him and give us some insight into the days leading up to his death."

Natasha nodded. "And maybe D.M. Carter. He was his friend and we haven't interviewed him yet."

"We owe him a visit." Harry sighed. "When you spoke to him at the hospital he was too drugged up to talk. Lets hope this time he can give us clues as to what really happened to Edward Carlisle in his final days."

Chapter Sixteen

Taj walked through the front door of his house and realized two things simultaneously: he was bone tired and he really missed his life as an ordinary professor who wanted to start up a psychiatry center.

He walked straight to the refrigerator in his kitchen and pulled out a bottle of orange juice. He had been going in and out of meetings, traveling to meetings or chairing meetings. Thankfully, he had just two more days to go—Bancroft was coming in on Monday morning and he had a reluctant respect for him and his high-octane job. Everybody wanted a little piece of the president.

He kicked off his shoes and walked into the living room with his drink in hand. Maybe that was the whole point to Bancroft allowing him to see how stressful it was—but there were also the benefits. One could get used to the bowing and scraping and excessive respect the staff and even outsiders gave him. When he made speeches, they hung on to his every word.

Two national newspapers, covered his last speech at the JTA meeting, all because he had mentioned that the mental health of many persons was adversely affected by their diet. It wasn't even a new theory, but one that was around for years. He had been toying with the concept of nutrition and mental health and was very pressed for time with coming up with a new speech, so he had used it. They had given him a full write up on that speech.

He could get used to the power and he could make a big difference. He knew that. He could feel it. He closed his eyes and tried to wind down. Natasha's smiling face was immediately imprinted on the back of his eyelids.

He missed her. He missed her perfume. He missed her voice. That quirky way she smiled and that piercing way she looked at him. The attraction had not even quelled with a few days of hardly speaking to her.

Maybe she really was the one. He turned on the lamp beside his head and dimmed it to low. He reached for his remote and played the music that was in his stereo.

After The President's Ball, he had gone searching for his Harold Melvin & the Blue Notes CD. The song, I Miss You came on
.
How appropriat
e
, he smiled. He did miss her. He called her phone. It rang several times and then she answered in a whisper.

"Hey Taj."

"Hey Lady Police," Taj smiled involuntarily. "Why are you whispering?"

"I am in the library with Harry, we are just heading out."

"Well, come over," Taj said, "I haven't seen you for days…feels like years."

"Aww," Natasha said, "look out for me in three minutes, I miss you too."

Taj closed his eyes and it seemed as if he dozed off because when he opened them again there was a knocking on his door.

He wearily got up and looked through the peephole. It was Natasha. Looking fresh and lovely with her hair in crinkly curls.

She pressed one eye to the peephole. "Open up, Presi!"

Taj opened the door grinning and she moved into his arms, hugging him tight. "You are a sight for sore eyes. What are they doing to you in that office?"

Taj held on to her inhaling her scent. "I had no idea that the post of president was so involved. I am still getting acclimatized."

He led her to the sofa and they both stretched out on it hugging tightly. Taj regaled her with his weekly exploits and Natasha updated him on hers.

"I could get used to this," Taj said. "When a guy finds a woman he can just talk to, it's bliss."

Natasha kissed him on his neck. "I could get used to this, when a girl finds a powerful acting president she can lay on the settee with..."

They both chuckled at that.

"How long will you be on this campus?" Taj asked seriously.

"The semester," Natasha sighed, "twelve weeks the Supe gave me and Harry. Problem is... this case is not so simple."

"Many things are simple," Taj said, "most murders are committed because of strong passion. Passion for money, love, position, sex, status, family."

"That's the thing," Natasha said, "so many people could have killed Carlisle because of those things."

"Have you tried to re-enact the scene?" Taj asked.

"Yes, we have," Natasha murmured sleepily. "Edward Carlisle was killed, according to the coroner's report, between nine and ten on a Monday morning, from what appeared to be a heart attack. Our theory is that he was injected with potassium chloride. His office was pretty open. His secretary was not there. Really open thoroughfare for someone who would be familiar with his whereabouts." Basically that's it." She clutched his chest and nuzzled her face closer to him. "You smell nice."

"You too," he clutched her warmth to him and kissed her on her forehead. They both drifted off to sleep in that position.

Taj's eyes flew opened at six-thirty when his body woke him up. Natasha was gently snoring in his arms and the arm she was laying on was dead.

He smiled at her in the half dark and contemplated whether he should wake her up. It was Friday, his fifth and last day as president. He had a breakfast meeting at eight with the vice president and a ten o'clock interview with a potential professor in the College of Arts. No wonder Bancroft didn't waste time on trivial greetings.

He smiled in the dark and gently eased himself from around Natasha. He had loved sleeping with her, even though his neck was alerting him that sleeping in the couch was not the ideal.

"Where am I?" Natasha mumbled waking up, then her eyes flew open and she looked at Taj. "They are going to crucify me on the female dorm if I go back there now."

"Good morning to you, too," Taj said grinning. "Want to finish off the rest of your sleep in my bed?"

Natasha groaned. "Might as well. Where to?"

Taj pointed her to the master bedroom. "The key is on the center table when you decide to leave. You can drop it off at my office."

"Okay," Natasha said slipping under the comforter.

She was out like a light again and Taj took out his work clothes and tiptoed to the guest room. He enjoyed having her there. He had to stop himself from singing too loudly in the shower though, because he felt a sudden joy in his heart.

Natasha showered at nine, groaning all the way. Harry was supposed to meet her at the dorm and then they both were to go over to D.M. Carter's house at nine-fifteen.

When Harry called ten minutes before, she had been in a pleasant dream with flowers and fruits and a smiling Miranda Carlisle telling her that poison was not so bad if the victim died quickly. She washed herself frantically. She had told Harry to meet her at Taj's house. She had hung up the phone on him mid-chuckle and rushed to the bathroom.

Yesterday's clothes would have to do. She grabbed up her blue jeans and red long sleeved sweater. The morning was nippy anyway so last nights clothes would do just as well. She finger combed her crinkly curls to look presentable. She was just on time because Harry rung the doorbell when she was bending under the settee trying to work her shoes out form under there.

She opened the door and smiled at him. "Hey."

"Hey," Harry said. "Sleeping with the president?"

Natasha huffed, "Yup, just sleep mind you. A guilt-free time was had by all."

Harry chuckled. "Your car was at the front of the house all night. This visit next door will be awkward."

Natasha groaned. "Can't be helped. I will just have to put on my best battle face when talking to D.M. Carter."

They walked out of the house together and headed next door. The door was wide opened and Harry knocked on it.

"Follow the television sound." shouted D.M. Carter.

They followed the television sound into a den where Carter was sprawled off in a settee. He had on a robe and a lounge pants, his face had on a few days worth of beard.

He indicated to the chair in front of him. "Morning Detectives. Sit. Anne said you were already next door," he looked at Natasha quizzically, "so I figured it would be safe to leave the door opened. I still feel a little weak. Walking is an effort for me. Just a little walk to the door has me gasping for breath. My doctor said this sensation will past soon."

Natasha looked at him sheepishly. "Both Taj and I had a rough night we fell asleep."

D.M. waved his hand. "I really don't need the explanation."

"I hope this wont hurt his chances for the presidency." Natasha said stoutly. "I heard the process involves the president having a squeaky clean record and overnight female guests may pose a problem."

D.M. chuckled. "The presidency. If that were the major consideration right now then both participants would be ineligible for the position. Bancroft because he's an ass and Taj because he spent the night in the arms of a very attractive detective."

Natasha tried hard not to blush. They were supposed to be doing the detective work not discussing her personal life.

She cleared her throat and looked at him, a spark in her eye. "Who wants you dead?"

Carter sobered up instantly, a look of fear crossing his face. "I have no idea. Maybe you should start with who wanted Edward Carlisle dead, since we are assuming that both incidents are related."

"You were friends, you must have an idea," Harry rebutted.

D.M. shook his head. "We weren't close friends. Edward was a hard person to get close to. Parts of his life were dark and impenetrable. Hard to get into."

"Tell us what you do know about him."

"He was friendly and had a dry sense of humor. We played golf…a few of us…every Wednesday at the country club near here."

"Who are the others that played golf with you guys?"

"The regular crowd. Edward Carlisle, Patrick Swan, V.J. Nicholson, and Kingsley Fry. We serve on several boards together, including this school's board. From time to time Edward would carry a friend or two to join."

"Male friends?" Harry asked swiftly jotting down the names.

"Well yes," D.M. said, “of course. Females are rather impatient with our company, especially at golf."

Harry nodded understandingly. Natasha rolled her eyes. "Can you remember any names of the friends who accompanied Edward to the games?"

"Well," D.M. scratched his chin, "there was a football coach, can't remember his name. Oh, Jerry Foster. He had a decent swing.

There was Ian Grant, he was lousy, but he made a good caddy. Only wanted to caddy for Carlisle though and seemed to hate V.J."

He sighed. "And then there is Kelvin Hart. He's a lecturer here. He is a very tactile person. He loves to hug and touch  and the other guys and I found it offensive. I spoke to Edward about it and he told him to stop coming to the games. I think he told him I was the one who raised concerns. He actually threatened me. That was odd behavior.

Then there is Sol Hunter. He makes everybody look like they are not trying at the game. He's Edward's friend. He only got to play one game with us before Edward died.

Harry was busy scribbling the names down and Natasha was nodding to what Carter was saying. She had the eerie feeling that she had just missed something important. She had felt the same way when trying to figure out who Taj's parents were. She tried to shake the feeling mentally but it persisted.

"You mentioned," Natasha said, "at The President's Ball, that Carlisle had his faults. What faults were you referring to?"

D.M. shook his head, "he was a, how to put this nicely, lothario pure and simple."

Natasha frowned. "Isn't lothario used to describe a man who is selfish in his relationships with women?"

"That's right." D.M. nodded.

"So how was he with his male lovers?" Natasha asked, watching D.M.'s expression closely.

He gasped, a look of incredulity creeping over his face.

Natasha and Harry looked at each other. It had been a possibility that D.M. was closer to Edward than he was letting on but this shocked reaction said it all. He wasn't faking it either. He could barely formulate speech. He was just sitting there looking shell-shocked.

Then a look of defeat crept in his eye. "You think you know a person?" he said earnestly. "There was no evidence whatsoever of this in his behavior. I am telling you."

Natasha nodded doubtfully.

"Was this an open secret? His extra marital relationships with women?"

D.M. frowned, he just liked to flirt with women. "He likes them, they like him. I don't know if he had relationships with them, he just loved to flirt. I can't believe this."

Natasha and Harry got up. "Thank you Mr. Carter for you time."

D.M. nodded at them absently.

"And be careful about your security," Natasha said when they were at the door, "you don't want a recurrence of the other day."