Snipped in the Bud (4 page)

I
turned and nearly collided with the student, who’d evidently been watching the scene over my shoulder. “Sorry,” he said.

At the same time I heard Reilly call to one of his men, “Take the professor to a room so I can interview him.”

My body shuddered in relief, allowing me to focus on the twentysomething guy in front of me. Some of his color had come back, but he still seemed pretty shaken. He was dressed in typical college student style—untucked short-sleeved shirt, cargo pants, and sneakers. He had dark brown wavy hair, thick eyebrows over a pair of hazel eyes, a long, wide nose with a bump in it, a full mouth, and a chin with a deep cleft in the center. He held out his hand and gave mine a brief shake. “Kenny Lipinski. Sorry I wasn’t more help earlier.”

“Abby Knight. Don’t apologize. It’s not easy to see a dead body, especially when it’s someone you know.”

“I can’t believe he’s dead,” Kenny said, pressing his palms against his head. “Professor Reed was my adviser. He’d just secured a clerkship for me with a federal appellate judge. I hadn’t even had a chance to thank him.”

I gazed at Kenny in awe. A clerkship at the federal appellate level—an extraordinarily prestigious position—would open doors that would guarantee him a brilliant career wherever he chose to go—Chicago, New York, L.A. Obviously, he was a bright guy. His name was familiar, too. “Is your father Kent Lipinski of the Lipinski and Lipinski law firm?”

He gave me a guarded look. “Yeah. Why?”

I was about to ask him why he’d pass up going into his father’s lucrative law practice to get into the federal court system, but then I thought better of it. The infamous and wealthy Kent Lipinski was the kind of lawyer people joked about—a slick-dressing ambulance chaser who paid people to haunt the hospital corridors and drunk tanks, trolling for clients. He had been known to lie to judges and steal files from other attorneys. He was a shameless publicity hound who was ridiculed behind his back. No wonder Kenny was looking for other opportunities.

“I was curious about something,” I said. “Who’s the other Lipinski? Your grandfather?”

“No. My dad. He’s too important for one name.” Seeing the repulsion on Kenny’s face, I dropped the subject.

The elevator dinged again, so I peered through the office and saw Jocelyn Puffer walk up to the doorway on the opposite side, where she was instantly met by the cop guarding the door. She wore a long, shapeless black knit skirt, plain black pumps, a pale pink short-sleeved sweater with a matching cardigan draped over her shoulders, and a surprisingly chic black straw hat on her shoulder-length brown hair. I couldn’t imagine how she’d gotten into the building—unless she’d rappelled down from a helicopter. But the fact that she was standing there meant she’d been on the first floor somewhere. I couldn’t imagine why.

“I’m here to see my husband—Archibald Puffer,” I heard her explain to the cop at the door as she tried to peer around him. “Did something happen?”

“How did you get inside the building, ma’am?”

“Why?”

“You’ll need to come with me.”

“Why do I have to go with you?” she asked, sounding both puzzled and alarmed. “Where’s Archie? What happened?”

Archie?
I couldn’t help but snicker. Puffer was about as far away from being an Archie as I was from being an Abigail.

“Hey, you two. Step back,” a cop ordered from behind. Kenny and I both moved out of the way as the crime scene investigation team passed by us and went into the office.

“Is it all right if I go back to the computer lab?” Kenny asked the cop. “I have to finish my research project.”

“I want you where I can see you,” the cop replied.

With a shrug, Kenny went to a desk on the far side of the secretarial pool. I sat in Bea’s chair, drumming my fingers on the desktop until the cop standing outside Puffer’s office shot me an annoyed look. I was tempted to call Marco and tell him what had happened, but since he had warned me not to return for my rose I knew he’d only say, “I told you so.” Actually, I’d be lucky if that’s all he had to say.

I called Nikki instead and got her voice mail, so I left a
you won’t believe this
message and hung up. Then I used Bea’s computer to do a Google search on the latest varieties of orchids. Reilly came out of Puffer’s office and motioned for Kenny to follow him, so I had to wait another fifteen minutes before he came back for me. “Conference room up the hallway,” he said.

The conference room was decorated in soothing neutrals and had a clubby air to it, with dark oak wainscoting and art prints of fox hunts and other so-called sporting events. Reilly seated me in a leather bucket chair near one end of a long, walnut table, then took the head chair, looking out of place in that setting in his blue uniform. “Okay,” he said, flipping open his notepad. “Start from when I last saw you in the parking lot.”

I gave him the full account, ending with my 911 call.

Reilly wrote quickly, then looked up. “Did you know Carson Reed?”

“Of course. He was my professor when I went to school here.” I decided not to bring up Reed’s little stunt of having me arrested at the protest rally. I was sure Reilly had heard about it through the police grapevine, but, as my former boss, Dave Hammond, an excellent lawyer and part-time public defender, always said, never give the cops more than they ask for.

“Did you have an argument with Professor Reed today?”

I gave Reilly a puzzled look. “We exchanged a few words. Who told you I had an argument?”

“What did you say to him?”

“I don’t remember exactly.”

“Did you threaten him?”

“
Threaten
him?” There was only one person who would make such a ridiculous accusation—Snapdragon. “Reilly, look at me. Even in heels I’d barely reach Professor Reed’s armpit. Check out these muscles. Do they look threatening to you?” I pushed up a sleeve and flexed my right bicep, which actually didn’t look half bad, but then I noticed that Reilly’s eyebrows had lowered, a sure sign that he was losing patience.

“I get the picture, Abby. You don’t need to give me a graphic demonstration.”

“I’m just trying to make a point. In case you didn’t get it—”

“I got it.” Scowling, Reilly flipped back through his notes, found what he wanted, then asked, “Why did you give Professor Puffer a death rose?”

“A death rose?” I said with an incredulous laugh. “Puffer ordered a black flower suitable for a funeral, but the closest thing I had was a rose called Ink Spots, which is
the
darkest—”

Reilly cut me off. He didn’t care for wordy explanations. “The professor said he didn’t order it. He claims it was your idea of a sick joke.”

“Well, guess what? There’s a slip of paper at Bloomers that says otherwise. If some unhappy student pranked him, that’s not my fault. Do you really think I have nothing better to do than to drive around town delivering bogus flowers to ill-tempered tyrants?”

His eyebrows went even lower. “A simple no will do.”

“Well, then, no. I did
not
give him a
death
rose.” I emphasized the word “death” by lowering my voice to a ghostly whisper.

Reilly ignored the dramatic effects. “I’ll need to see the order.”

“Anytime.” I folded my arms and sat back just as a cop stuck his head in the door.

“Sergeant, I’m ready to print her.”

“You already have my prints,” I reminded them.

Reilly gave a nod and the cop left. I expected a remark about
why
they had the prints, but Reilly only said, “Did you notice anyone in the vicinity of Professor Puffer’s office when you arrived the first time?”

“His secretary, Bea. She was just leaving for lunch. The other secretaries were already gone.”

“Do you know Bea’s full name?”

“Beatrice Boyd,” I said and spelled both names for him. “She’s not married, so make that Ms.”

“Did you see Ms. Boyd leave?”

“No, I saw her start down the steps. But listen, Reilly, if you’re sizing up Bea as a potential suspect, forget it. She’s not the killer type. In fact, she’s a surrogate mother to all the students here. Do you know what her nickname is? Aunt Bea. Do you want to know why?”

“Do you mind if I draw my own conclusions?”

Someone
was getting testy. At that moment, one of his men tapped on the doorjamb, then came in to whisper something to him. I strained to hear but couldn’t catch it.

Reilly gave the cop a nod, then looked over what he’d just written. “Did Ms. Boyd get along with Professor Reed?”

“Bea gets along with everyone. She even gets along with Professor Puffer.”

“Why do you say ‘
even
’ with Puffer?”

“Because Puffer is a class-A jerk. It’s no secret he’s impossible to get along with. Bea is the only person I know who can tolerate his abuse without getting ruffled.”

“Are you saying he is abusive to her?”

“Professor Puffer is abusive to everyone. That’s his personality. I can’t imagine how his wife stands him.”

“How would you describe his relationship with Professor Reed?”

“When I went to school here they were civil to each other, but that was it. I don’t know about now.”

“Okay, let’s go back to after you delivered the rose to Professor Puffer and were leaving the building. Did you see anyone else on the second floor as you left?”

“Only Professor Reed.”

“None of the secretaries were there?”

“Nope. The room was empty. None of the other professors were there, either, but that’s not unusual. They have flexible schedules and usually teach in the mornings or late afternoons. A few teach only evening classes and they rarely show up before five o’clock. But here’s an idea. A group of the professors meet at the Down the Hatch every day for lunch. You can check with them to see if anyone was missing today.” I pointed to his tablet. “You might want to write that down.”

He glared at me instead. “When you delivered your flower, did you hear anything at all—a door closing, voices, music, the elevator—think carefully.”

I gave it some thought, then shook my head. “No. Not then.”

“Okay, then did you see or hear anything when you came back?”

“I heard the elevator ding as I was going upstairs, but the second floor was empty.”

“So someone was on the way down?”

“That would be my guess. I didn’t stick around to see who it was.”

“Did you see anyone on the first floor?”

“No, but I could see only up the hallway to the commons area. Someone could have been in a lecture hall or the law library, I suppose. The building usually empties out at noon.”

“This is going to be hell to investigate,” he muttered. “Okay, tell me again why you returned to Professor Puffer’s office.”

“To get my flower. Puffer didn’t want it and didn’t pay for it. In fact, he dropped it in his trash can right before my eyes, so I figured I’d take it back. No sense letting it rot there.”

“Why didn’t you remove it from the trash when he first dropped it in?”

I leaned toward him and said quietly, “You don’t know this man, Reilly. He’s mean. Besides, how would you feel if you’d delivered a beautiful rose to someone who immediately tossed it, and then insulted you?”

“Upset?”

“You’re darn right. He shouted at me to get out, so I got out. But after further consideration I decided to go back for my flower. I even called Marco to discuss it. You can check that with him.” I gave him a confident smile, knowing that would make points for me. Reilly and Marco had been friends since they’d worked together on the police force.

“You’re telling me that Marco
agreed
you should go back for the flower?”

Reilly just had to split hairs, didn’t he? “I said we discussed it. I didn’t say he agreed.”

“So tell me something. When you went back to get your flower, were you still upset?”

There was something about the way he asked that question that made me suddenly cautious. “Not exactly.”

He tapped his pencil on the table. “Is that a yes or a no?”

“I don’t think I can be that definitive.”

Reilly rubbed his eyes, muttering, “My mother told me to be a priest, but did I listen?”

“A priest? I don’t see it.”

He took in a huge chestful of air and let it out again. “What do you say we just get this over with. Can we do that, please?”

“Hey, you’re the one asking the questions.” I shrugged and sat back.

In a tightly controlled voice Reilly said, “When you entered Professor Puffer’s office, did you notice anything unusual—other than the body?”

Anything unusual? I summoned up the memory, but I had been so totally focused on getting the flower that I hadn’t really paid much attention to anything around me. And then, after seeing Reed, I wasn’t exactly thinking straight. I could have told Reilly all that, but I was tired of explaining my actions. “No.”