Shadows on the Ivy (22 page)

Maggie spoke with the detectives for a few more minutes, then Luciani and Newton went next door, to Paul’s office.

Maggie sat quietly, pulling her thoughts together. She looked around her office. She still didn’t know who’d trashed it, but now she thought she knew who’d killed Tiffany. Who had to have killed Tiffany. And if that person had killed Tiffany, then perhaps that person was also responsible for Sarah’s poisoning. Responsible for searching Maggie’s office, and for trying to break into her home last night. She had the major pieces. All she had to do now was make them fit. And get some proof. Then she could share her theory.

Detective Newton came to her door. “Professor Summer? Would you join us for a few minutes in Mr. Turk’s office?”

She nodded and followed the detective. As she got there, Paul, his face ashen, was being read his rights.

“You think I killed Tiffany? Or poisoned Sarah?” His voice was barely audible.

“You helped set up the bar where Sarah was poisoned, your fingerprints were all over Professor Summer’s office, and you haven’t told us everything you know.”

Detective Luciani then spread the photographs of Tiffany and Oliver out on Paul’s desk. Luciani leaned over the photos, shouting at Paul, “For example—do you know anything about this?”

Paul’s shoulders sagged. “All right! Yes. I knew Oliver Whitcomb had…different sexual tastes. But I didn’t have anything to do with Tiffany’s death! Oliver used to tell me about his…friends…when we were in New York. And I knew he was seeing Tiffany Douglass. I didn’t know for sure he and Tiffany were into that kind of stuff together. And I didn’t know until yesterday that there were pictures. He called after he heard about her death. He said it would be very embarrassing if anyone found them, and he’d do anything to get those pictures and negatives and ensure they were destroyed.”

“Embarrassing?” said Luciani.

“I assumed to him. And to his wife. Maybe even to the school.”

“And…?” said Detective Newton.

“I told him I’d seen Tiffany in Maggie’s office Monday afternoon. He asked me if she’d had the briefcase he’d given her. I said I thought so. He asked me to see if she’d left it there.”

“You were the one?” Maggie said, her voice rising. “You totally dumped my office looking for dirty pictures of Tiffany and Oliver?” Paul had lied to her and had pulled part of her life apart.

Paul nodded. “Oliver said to make it look as though a student had done it. I tried not to ruin any papers that looked critical. And, after all, I couldn’t find the briefcase. I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do. I owe so much to Oliver.”

“Did you owe so much to Oliver that you killed Tiffany to get those pictures? And then panicked when she didn’t have them and trashed Professor Summer’s office?” asked Detective Luciani.

“No! I don’t know anything about Tiffany’s death! I searched Maggie’s office. That’s all!”

“You didn’t find the briefcase because Professor Summer had already locked it away,” said Detective Luciani.

“I didn’t know. I told Oliver Tiffany must not have left her briefcase there after all.”

“And you were the one who came to my house in the middle of the night and almost scared me to death?” Maggie was getting angrier by the minute.

“That wasn’t me! I swear it! I was at home last night. By myself. Feeling guilty about messing up your office.” Paul’s head dropped. “Oliver did me a big favor in recommending me for this job. He knew I didn’t have any teaching experience. It wasn’t just my choice to change careers. I was about to be laid off. Oliver came to my rescue.”

“Did Oliver Whitcomb poison Tiffany Douglass?” Detective Newton asked.

“No! I can’t believe he would do that,” said Paul. “He’s not like that. He’s got some kinky tastes in sex, but I can’t believe he’d intentionally hurt anyone!”

Detectives Luciani and Newton looked at each other. Newton spoke. “Mr. Turk, we’d like you to come down to headquarters with us and make out a sworn statement repeating what you told us here.”

“I will. But I still don’t think Oliver is guilty of anything but adultery.”

Luciani took Paul’s arm, and they headed out of the building. Newton stayed a moment.

“Are you sure about what you want to do, Professor Summer?”

Maggie nodded. “I’m sure.”

“When will you be ready?”

“Five o’clock,” Maggie said. “Unless I call you before that—five o’clock.”

Did she really want to do this? She thought of Sarah, pale in that hospital bed, and Aura, missing her mother. Tyler, who was now living with his grandparents.

Now she understood more about Tiffany. But Sarah?

It would take some time for the detectives to get Paul’s statement. Maggie finished cleaning the bookcase he’d started on and straightened the papers still on top of her desk. She needed to keep her hands as busy as her mind.

Then she dialed Dorothy’s number. Dorothy was somehow at the center of it all. “Dorothy? Are you free for lunch? It would have to be in the college cafeteria. I have a class at three, but I’d like to talk with you.”

“I was just about to call you,” Dorothy said. “I have news! See you in fifteen minutes.”

Maggie pushed aside the feeling that perhaps she shouldn’t see Dorothy now; she should let the police deal with what was to happen next.

How much did Dorothy know? And how much of what Maggie knew did she want to share with Dorothy?

By the time Maggie got to the cafeteria, Dorothy had already gotten a salad from the salad bar and a glass of iced tea. Maggie took a small salad and then, as she walked through the line of students and teachers, realized she’d skipped breakfast. She added two slices of vegetarian pizza and a large Diet Pepsi with ice and lemon to her tray. Even in the worst of times, a woman had to eat. By the time Maggie sat down, Dorothy had finished about a third of her salad.

Now what? Should she just broach the untouchable? Hey, Dorothy, I understand your husband was having steamy bondage sex with one of the single parents you sponsored! Do you think he could have murdered her? Maggie put a paper napkin in her lap and debated whether to use her fingers for the pizza or be civilized and use a knife and fork. The mounds of vegetables convinced her. Knife and fork.

Dorothy spoke first. “I just got through talking with Max. I think we have a deal.”

“Yes?”

“He agreed he was a little overwrought when he talked with you yesterday. He said we were right. The residents of Whitcomb House can stay.”

“That’s a relief!”

“Yes and no. He did put one caveat in the agreement. But it won’t have any effect on the students who’re at Whitcomb House now. Just those in the future.”

“The future?”

“Oliver and I agreed to resign from the committee that selects candidates for the program. We’ll still sponsor Whitcomb House, of course, so we were disappointed, but I can understand, after the past week’s events, why Max would feel that way.”

Maggie was puzzled. “I didn’t know a special committee determined who was offered Whitcomb House residencies and scholarships. I assumed that was done through the Admissions Office.”

“Officially, yes. And then it’s administered by the college president. But a small group of people consult on the decisions of the Admissions Office about those particular scholarship students. Bluntly, Maggie, since Oliver and I were putting up the money, we wanted to be sure we had some input about who received the scholarships.”

Of course. That’s how Sarah and Tiffany, who were roommates, had both been offered scholarships. It was beginning to make sense. “Sarah told Tiffany she was approached by someone at the diner where she worked, who told her about the program.”

Dorothy shrugged slightly. “I had someone from the Admissions Office talk with her. The program was designed to help girls like Sarah.”

“And now?” Maggie questioned. “That won’t be happening in the future?”

“No. Max was quite clear about that.” Dorothy put down her salad fork. “Actually, since Sarah was the only one I was specifically interested in, it doesn’t really matter. I know the Admissions Office will select outstanding candidates.”

“Do the current Whitcomb House students know of your role in their admission?”

“I don’t think so. And Max has promised that no changes made now will affect the students who are already in the program. I think the house and its future are secure.”

“Thank goodness! That is a relief, Dorothy,” Maggie said, after another bite of pizza. “I was really concerned that Max might not change his mind. So—are you and Oliver still at the hotel?”

“No! The police left our house late yesterday, and we went right home. I’m not convinced our moving out was worth all the aggravation; I haven’t heard that the police have made any progress in identifying whoever poisoned the girls, so they probably didn’t find anything at our home.”

“I just saw Detectives Newton and Luciani. They have some ideas they’re going to pursue.”

“Oh? Where did you see them?” Dorothy sipped her iced tea. Her hand tightened around her glass.

“In my office. Did Oliver or Max or Paul tell you my office was pulled apart by someone looking for a briefcase that belonged to Tiffany?”

“No.” Dorothy put down the glass. “I’m so sorry, Maggie. I didn’t hear that. Whatever did they think was in the briefcase?”

Maggie was torn. She didn’t want to tell Dorothy something that would hurt her, but Dorothy was going to find out soon anyway. Paul was down at the station now. “They have the contents now. There were photographs. Graphic photographs of Tiffany with her lover. The police think she may have been blackmailing him. He wanted to stop her. And destroy the pictures.” Maggie watched closely, but Dorothy seemed strangely calm.

“And her lover actually went to your office to look for them? Why would he ever have thought to look there?” Dorothy’s voice was cautious. Maggie wondered how much she really did know.

“Tiffany had been in my office Monday afternoon, just hours before she was murdered. Dorothy, I’m really sorry to have to tell you this, but the pictures were of Tiffany and Oliver,” Maggie said quickly. “Oliver asked Paul to look for the photos in my office. He thought she might have left her briefcase there. And she had.”

“Oliver asked Paul to do that? How clumsy of him,” said Dorothy evenly. “That put Paul in a very awkward position.”

Had Dorothy heard her? Maggie watched her face. “Dorothy—Oliver was having an affair with Tiffany.”

“I know.” Dorothy looked back at her calmly. “No, that’s not strictly true, Maggie. I didn’t know for sure that this time it was Tiffany. Oliver has so many affairs. But I suspected Tiffany was the one.”

“How can you be so calm? Didn’t you care? Your husband was sleeping with another woman!”

“I cared. Of course I cared. But I’m very conventional, Maggie. Oliver likes some activities that are not of interest to me. So he finds other women to play with. He isn’t looking for love or commitment. He knows he has that with me.”

Maggie had expected tears, screams, threats. Not this.

Dorothy looked at Maggie and smiled. “Don’t be horrified. Oliver and I are very happy together. Our life is much simpler if we can concentrate on our relationship without cluttering it with behavior that just isn’t to my taste. We don’t talk about it a lot. But we both know what’s happening. I told you we had separate friends, Maggie!”

“You’ve always known about his affairs.”

“Yes; of course. Very few wives don’t know when their husband is being unfaithful. But I know in Oliver’s case it’s only his body that’s unfaithful, not his heart or mind.”

Maggie thought too quickly of Michael, and of what she had not known about his behavior. Was she the only one who hadn’t known? Was she the only wife who hadn’t sensed what was happening? Was she so uninvolved with him that…But the issue today was Dorothy and Oliver.