Coming Up Murder Page 13

  “Hello, André,” I said. “It’s good to see you.”

  He took my hand and kissed it dramatically. “It is always good to see you, mon amie.” He lowered his voice. “Even if the circumstances are highly irregular.”

  “What’s the matter? Has something happened?”

  “Something has happened all right,” he said. “They have me working like a student tonight.” He gestured to the student handing out programs at the other door. “Like the undergraduate!”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Because I don’t have a department, they treat me like an errand boy. Go here, go there, André.” He threw his hands in the air. “Mon Dieu!”

  André had been petitioning for a French department since I first met him. At one time, I was sure he would succeed and I would teach French literature courses. But the department hadn’t happened, and judging by the look on André’s face, it wasn’t a possibility in the near future. “They undervalue you, André. I’m sorry. Come sit with me and Lenny when you’re finished. We will save you a seat.”

  “I will be the last one in the auditorium. That is for certain.”

  I gave him an encouraging smile.

  “By the way, you are a vision in pink,” said André. “Lenny is the lucky man.”

  I thanked him, taking a program and entering the hall. It was as intimate as an auditorium could be. Its cream-colored walls, burgundy seats, and warm wood invited scholars to listen to anyone fortunate enough to stand at the podium. It was reserved for special events, events such as Felix’s keynote address.

  Felix was seated on the stage with Giles, who would probably introduce him. Reed Williams was also on the stage and perhaps would say a few words. President Conner was seated next to Reed. Was he there to lend support, or was he a Shakespeare fan himself? We would soon find out.

  A quick glance down the aisle told me the English Department was well represented. Faculty members and many of our students were in attendance. Lenny was in the middle of the auditorium. Andy was seated on his left, but several spots to his right remained open. I hurried in to join them, saying hello to the other faculty members. I sat next to Lenny, placing my purse on a chair for André.

  “Nice dress,” said Lenny. “Pink is your color.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “Hi, Andy.”

  “Hello.” Andy wore a black shirt and suit jacket and an oversized gold watch.

  I motioned to the stage. “No speech tonight?”

  Andy shook his head. “Felix said I could say a few words about my book, but I wanted tonight to be about him.”

  How kind of you, I thought. “Your book has gotten enough buzz anyway, right?”

  Andy feigned indifference, but his blue eyes lit up. “I can’t complain. Publishers Weekly gave it a starred review. How about you? Do you have a publication date?”

  Lenny and I shared a secret smile. Andy had dropped the PW review into the conversation like a five-carat diamond, a sizeable nugget to appreciate.

  “Not yet,” I said. “As you know, the publishing process takes time.” I had a feeling, however, that our experiences were vastly different. “Did you know Tanner had plans to publish his work? Reed told me. He was in his final stages of research.”

  “I never saw his manuscript, but I have to admit, he did his homework.” Andy crossed his legs. “He told me he’d gone to England and met one of de Vere’s descendants. I didn’t realize.”

  “You think his theory had merit?” asked Lenny.

  “I think he went to a lot of trouble,” said Andy. “I don’t think the work was viable. You know it could never be accepted as serious scholarship.”

  I gritted my teeth, and from the look of his jaw, Lenny did too. It angered me that even with Tanner dead, Andy wouldn’t acknowledge the value of Tanner’s research.

  “Come on,” said Andy with a chuckle. “You don’t take it seriously, do you? I know you want to be supportive of your students, but even they knew Tanner was wasting his time. Remember that undergrad at the symposium? She called him a hack.”

  I thought back to the panel. “I don’t recall that.”

  “The one with the long black hair?” He leaned in. “Anyway, if students recognized its pointlessness, shouldn’t we, as professors?”

  “I don’t think one has to do with the other,” I said. “Having a degree doesn’t automatically make me right.”

  “But it gives you more expertise,” said Andy.

  I couldn’t argue with that, and neither could Lenny, although he wanted to. Giles was approaching the podium, and André had entered the hall at last. I gave him a wave. He joined us, whispering apologies as he scooted through the row.

  The lecture was an intriguing mix of Felix’s personal story and Shakespeare’s work. I enjoyed it when scholars revealed personal connections to their research, and Felix did. He had first come to Shakespeare as a child, hanging around the theater in his small English village. His parents were impatient with their imaginative young boy, and he found himself thinking of the actors and stagehands as playmates. They never shooed him away or discouraged his fun. They became his family and the theater his home.

  No wonder Tanner’s claim irked him. The longer Felix talked, the more Shakespeare sounded like a substitute for loving parents. Felix was older, of course, and his generation had different challenges than mine growing up. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d had it rougher than most. Hearing Shakespeare declared a fake would be a personal blow. Like being told he was adopted.

  After Felix finished, we gave him a hearty round of applause. Andy stood and clapped, and many of us joined him. I noted the pride in Andy’s eyes. Usually he reserved that look for his own work, but he revered his mentor. He would protect Felix’s feelings at any cost. I was glad to see he admired someone other than himself.

  “Would you like to join us at the English banquet, André?” I asked, putting on my coat. “It’s at Bluff View Restaurant, and no one will notice an extra guest. We have a private room and a nice buffet lined up.”

  André gave me a little bow. “Thank you. I am like the boat without the anchor, floating and drifting.”

  “Don’t be so dramatic,” said Lenny. “Join us for a beer—or a glass of wine. They have the local stuff. They make it right here in South Dakota.”

  André made a face. “I have tasted the wine you speak of, and it does not excite the palette. I think, mon ami, South Dakota should stick to the corn and soybeans.”

  I chuckled. Many states tried their hand at growing grapes, but very few did it well. André would probably say France does it best. His family owned a winery in Bordeaux. “Come for the conversation, then,” I said. “We need to catch up, and Giles mentioned wanting to talk to you the other day.”

  “I always enjoy talking to Giles,” said André. “And you and Lenny, of course. Okay, I will meet you there.”

  André left, a tiny smile on his face. I was glad to see him feeling better. A dinner with friends was just what he needed.

  “Do you need a ride, Andy?” Lenny asked. “I’m taking Em and anybody else who needs a lift.”

  “Thanks,” said Andy. “That’d be great.”

  As we gathered our things, I noticed Mia and her roommates leaving. Denton and Mia were walking together, apart from the rest of the group. They were deep in conversation, and I wondered about what. Had Tanner been right to be suspicious? Were Denton and Mia more than friends? Denton assured me they weren’t, but he could have lied to protect himself. Cheating with Mia would give him another motive for murder. But Mackenzie had corroborated his account at the bar. She said Denton and Mia were just friends. Still, at this point I didn’t trust anyone to give me the full story. She herself might have remained on friendly terms with Tanner.

  We stopped near the stage to discuss driving arrangements with Giles. He said he and Katherine would take Felix and Reed. Claudia and Gene were taking Thomas and his wife, Lydia. My ears perked up at the mention of Lyd
ia’s name, for I’d only met her once. I relished the chance to talk to the woman who’d made herself scarce the moment she moved to Copper Bluff. Thomas said she worked out of their home, but one had to eat and shop. Yet I’d never seen her in the grocery store or café, the book or coffee shops, or the regular places townspeople bumped into one another. Lydia was another mystery to me, one I wanted to solve.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Lenny and Andy talked about Tanner as we drove to the restaurant a few miles outside of town. I listened, trying to learn as much as I could about Andy from his comments. I gleaned that he and Tanner had been better friends as undergraduates in Iowa than I first realized. Their friendship cooled when they applied to graduate school, each moving in different directions. Tanner wanted to attend school in Denver, Andy said, but was rejected. Andy was accepted, creating the first ripple in their relationship. Although Tanner wouldn’t admit it, he was jealous, at least according to Andy. I believed Andy. It would be hard seeing your friend attend a school that gave you a pass.

  “You didn’t keep in touch with Tanner after you moved?” I turned to Andy, who was in the backseat, staring out the window. Perhaps he was thinking of Iowa. A lot of the farmland in the Midwest looked alike.

  “Maybe for the first month or so,” said Andy. “He moved to Copper Bluff, and then we both got busy with our graduate work. Felix took me under his wing right away. He had plans for me the moment I started the program. I owe everything to him.”

  “Did he give you the idea for the Shakespeare book?” asked Lenny, navigating a turn.

  “The idea was mine,” Andy replied, sounding offended. “It’s why I was admitted into the program in the first place.”

  That made sense. Felix would be thrilled to have a student writing a book about the relevancy of Shakespeare in the twenty-first century. From what’d I’d seen at our campus, graduate students were gravitating toward less traditional topics. They were interested in under-represented authors and under-studied subjects. Andy was an old-school scholar who thought like Felix. They could collaborate on the Shakespeare book for the five years it would take Andy to finish his PhD. With the book coming out in the fall, they wouldn’t want to chance competing with or being contradicted by a new discovery in the field. But would they go so far as to kill Tanner so that he couldn’t publish his work? That’s what I needed to determine.

  Lenny pulled into Bluff View Restaurant, a white building that hugged the edge of the bluff. The sun had almost disappeared behind it. Only faint streaks of pink remained in the sky, giving the horizon a rosy glow. This is what people mean when they say spring is in the air, I thought as I got out of the car. For me, the color of spring was pink. Pink like the cherry blossoms. Pink like the color of my cheeks when Lenny took my hand as we walked up the stairs.

  The hostess pointed us to the room reserved for the English Department. The dinner was a nice way not only to end the Shakespeare conference but also to celebrate our students’ accomplishments. Many students would be receiving awards and scholarships after dinner. The buffet at Bluff View was one not to miss; the restaurant was considered the best in town and for good reason. Besides serving great food, the establishment was elegantly furnished and had the best views in our area. Tonight, white lights outlined the oversized deck, a sure sign that summer was on the way. Lunches were already being served outside. Soon, dinners would be too. But for now, guests would have to be content with taking a drink on the deck to soak up the last rays of daylight before the sun set.

  “This is nice,” said Andy, glancing around the room.

  The surprise in his voice irritated me. Copper Bluff might not be as large as Denver or Detroit, but it had fine dining, too. “They have great food.”

  “There’s André,” said Lenny. “It looks like he found a wine he could drink.”

  Swirling a glass of red wine, André was standing next to a table where many faculty members were already seated.

  “Good idea,” said Andy. “Where’s the bar?”

  I pointed out the door we’d just entered.

  After he left, Lenny said, “That was nice of him to ask us if we’d like a drink.”

  “He only thinks of himself,” I said. “It drives me crazy.”

  “I hear you,” said Lenny. “If he name-dropped one more book reviewer in the car, I was going to smack him. You want a glass of red?”

  “Let’s set our coats down first. Seats are filling up quickly.”

  We joined the English faculty, choosing chairs near the end of the table. Giles, Felix, and Reed hadn’t arrived yet, but the rest of the faculty was there, including Thomas Cook and his wife, Lydia. I glanced over the people seated between us. Maybe I’d have a chance to talk to her when we went through the buffet line. I was brainstorming conversation starters when Lenny interrupted my thoughts.

  “Are you thinking about switching seats?” Lenny’s blue eyes twinkled. He knew exactly what I was thinking.

  “Have you ever talked to Lydia?” I whispered. “I’ve only seen her once.”

  “Never,” said Lenny. “They say she’s a hermit.”

  “Who says that?”

  “Thomas’s students,” said Lenny. “They say he talks about her in class sometimes.”

  I nudged Claudia, who was seated on my other side. “Have you ever talked to Lydia?”

  “Occasionally,” said Claudia. “Why?”

  “What does she do, for a job, I mean?”

  “She works from home.” Claudia took a sip of her white wine. “A lovely person.”

  “Students say she’s a hermit,” I said.

  Claudia gave me a sidelong glance. “And we can vouch for how much they know.”

  “But what does she work on, from home?” I pressed.

  “I don’t know, Em,” said Claudia, setting down her glass with a plunk. “Maybe you’d like to interrogate her before dinner.”

  “She’ll wait until dessert,” answered Lenny. “It’d be bad manners not to let the woman eat first.”

  They shared a chuckle at my expense.

  “I’m just curious, that’s all,” I said. “I’d like a chance to get to know her.”

  “Sure,” said Lenny.

  “How about that wine now?” I said. Andy had returned with a cocktail, but much to my amusement, all the seats at our table were filled. He’d have to sit with the other grad students.

  Lenny stood. “I’ll be right back.”

  In the meantime, the guest of honor arrived and was welcomed with a nice round of applause. He, Giles, Katherine, and Reed took their reserved seats at the head of our table, officially beginning the night. Standing to join them, I congratulated Felix on his lecture. “I loved hearing about your childhood and the theater. I dream of seeing an English village like yours someday.”

  “Thank you,” Felix said. “Those were formative years, if somewhat painful at times. But we English are known for keeping a stiff upper lip, right? My childhood served me well when facing adversity. Have you ever been abroad?”

  “Almost.” I glanced at André, a few seats away. Last spring, we were scheduled to take a group of faculty members and students to France, but a professor died in-flight—murder, it later turned out—grounding the plane. I hoped one day for a chance to see France and the town of St. Émilion, where my great-great grandmother (and namesake) had lived. With the cost of airfare and hotel, it wouldn’t be any time soon.

  Giles provided Felix with an explanation. He nodded toward André. “André is from France. He organized the trip.”

  “That reminds me,” I said to Giles. “I asked him to come tonight. I know you tried to reach him last week and failed. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all,” said Giles. “I need to talk to him about the English as a Second Language Program. With Professor Davis leaving us unexpectedly, I’m looking for a replacement for next year.”

  “André would be perfect for the job,” I said, getting excited. It was too late in the year
for Giles to conduct a proper search for the position, and André needed a department. It was a win-win for both of them.

  “I’m glad you agree,” said Giles. “Let’s just hope André does.”

  The buffet opened, and I quickly said my goodbyes and took my seat. Lenny had returned with my wine, and I told him the news while we waited in line for food.

  “I suppose that means I’ll learn more French curse words,” said Lenny. “I have to admit I’m kind of excited.”

  I chuckled. André tended to curse in French when he was frustrated. “Giles is going to talk to André tonight. I don’t think André knows. I’m so excited for him.”

  “He’s worked hard,” said Lenny, taking a plate. “He deserves it.”

  “No chicken parmigiana?” I said, checking out the entrées. “Dang.” Bluff View was known for its excellent chicken parmigiana.

  “Don’t look so glum,” said Lenny. “There’s cheesecake.”

  I glanced down the buffet. Lenny was right. The end of the line was a dessert lover’s mecca. I gathered my meal and sped toward the desserts, reaching for the chocolate mousse and cheesecake.

  “You can’t possibly eat both,” said Claudia.

  We started for our table. “It’s chocolate and it’s cheesecake. One dessert.”

  “You’re worse than my kids.”

  I believed it. Her kids were like miniature adults, well-mannered and disciplined.

  After dinner, Giles made a short speech, then gave Felix a token of our appreciation—a painting of Copper Bluff, signed by the artist. Felix shook his hand, thanking Giles for the gift. He also thanked Reed for inviting him and Andy to campus as special guests.

  Andy stood and raised his cocktail high in the air. “To the good people of Copper Bluff!”

  As we raised our glasses, Lenny whispered, “I think he’s drunk.”

  I agreed. If he wasn’t drunk, he was headed in that direction. I should have warned him about the well drinks. When grad students bartended on the weekends, the drinks were strong, especially when their friends were present.