Amateur Hour

Steph

“I’m sorry to bother you, on a Sunday,” Janice was saying, on the phone.

“Weekends aren’t exactly relevant, in my line,” Steph replied. “What’s happening, Janice?”

“Well, I know I’m not the detective, but I may have something for you — or not. I don’t know.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“I’ve been thinking about the references to the cousin, by marriage, in Jess’s diaries. It almost had to be Starkey. No classroom teacher would have had the time for extended lectures to an individual student. Nor, would he have had the privacy, to bring up such a personal matter, as his kinship to the student. It’s not the kind of conversation you want someone to overhear, especially if it’s being used as a taunt or a threat. So, Cousin-By-Marriage would almost have to have had his own office, and time to spare.”

“That’s logical,” Steph allowed. With all Janice had, to keep her busy, lately, it was startling that she’d put so much thought into Jess’s tragedy. “My focus has been more on identifying the stepfather, than the cousin.”

“That would be David Eldridge, Sr.,” Janice announced.

“How did you get there?”

“Liam’s niece is a genealogy hobbyist. Liam gave her the information from Starkey’s bio, at the school, told her that he was a distaff Eldridge, Gordon’s nephew, and asked her to look for Anya Greene, on either side of Starkey’s family. Anya turned up as a wife to his cousin, David Eldridge. David has two sons. The youngest is Daniel James. I think that might be ‘DJ’.”

“Janice, you’ve just made my day. A genealogist, huh? I may have to get me one of those.”

“It saves some public records digging, because others have done it, already. Even hobbyists are very particular about verifying, and cross checking. We didn’t step all over your investigation, then?”

“You’ve given some credibility to one of my own theories, but maybe altered it, a little. Is there any way you can send — ”

“Absolutely. I didn’t want to clutter up your inbox, so I thought I’d tell you what Toni found, first.”

“I’m going to have to thank her, for her help. It must have taken hours. Thank you. The journals have been driving me batty.”

“It’s hard to get the poor girl, out of my head. I’m so glad you’re taking her seriously.”

“I need to know who killed her, and why. I need to know. If you come up with anything else, don’t hesitate to get in touch with me. I don’t care if it’s just something that makes your spider senses tingle. I wish I could offer you more, from my end, but I’m still working it. I’d rather not share it, until I’m more sure. I made that mistake, earlier, with someone else.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Steph. You’re not working for me.”

Steph thought she caught a hint of sadness, in the words.

“Let’s just say we’re working, for each other.”

“That’s accurate, I suppose.” She sounded cheered.

“Can I ask you something? Something not directly related. I’d like your opinion, as a psychologist.”

“Of course.”

“Do you think one person’s indifference, can be an obstacle, to another person, even though it’s a neutral emotion?”

“Indifference, as a behavior can be neutral, or not — sometimes, it’s veiled passive aggression. Not always, though. As an emotion? I don’t think it’s possible to care about everything, in the world. At the same time, I don’t think it’s normal, to care nothing at all about something that affects someone you care about.”

“Lately, I’ve been feeling like I have to push people out of my way, to get anything accomplished.”

“Because, they don’t seem interested in helping, and won’t move out of your way, of their own accord?”

“Exactly. You’re running into it, too?”

“I was. It’s gotten better. Be patient, if you can. If you can’t, go to a gym, and punch something.”

“Sounds like good advice. For now, I guess I’d better take the info you gave me, and run with that, for a bit.”

“Godspeed.”

“Thanks. Bye, Janice.”

***

“But run where?” she muttered, to herself, when she’d hung up. Daniel James wasn’t ‘David Jr.’ So, whose ID had Daniel been using, to get past Gordon’s security man? Maybe, it had been a fake license.

Steph opened her laptop, and began to research Daniel James Eldridge. The plethora of hits surprised her. Daniel had been a star running back, for the Suwannee Drovers, and a runner on the cross country team, as well. There were local newspaper pictures of the young man, and it wasn’t difficult to round up a copy of an online yearbook.

She saved all the photos she could find, and sent the best ones to the printer, in her office. There were other hits, too. One was a mugshot. At the age of 20, Daniel had been arrested for battery. Both he and the battered party, another young man, were underage drinkers, in a bar. Not surprisingly, the charges had been dropped.

He would be a few years older, now, but it was unlikely that he could pass, for his own father. However, it wasn’t unlikely that he would have had, and still might have, access to fake identification.

A touch of water soluble white or grey, applied to the hair, could have helped with the age aspect, she supposed. And, there were ways of accentuating facial lines and creases.

That’s all well and good — but you don’t make such elaborate preparation, to go into someone’s home, and strangle him, to death.

To shoot him, maybe, or to cut him. Manual strangulation was a brutal, impulsive act. If Daniel had indeed done this, his original intent must not have been murder. It wasn’t hard to believe, from all she’d heard about Gordon, that the man had said or done something, to set the younger man off.

Daniel hadn’t been the visitor Gordon was expecting, but they had been having tea, or coffee, when some switch had gotten flipped.

Steph had seen the photos of the scene Liam had taken, while awaiting the paramedics. Both chairs had been pushed hastily away from the table. One, so violently, that it had overturned. Prior to that, both men had been seated, presumably talking. Had confirmation of Jess’s death, been the trigger?

Had Daniel come, directly to the source, to find out what had happened to her, only to discover that she was dead? Would Gordon be fool enough, to confess to such a thing? Or, had Daniel known, and come to his cousin, for answers? If so, what had agitated him, to the point of murder?

*******

Guy

Guy pulled into the guarded parking structure, parked in his newly assigned permanent spot, and got out. He’d been instructed to park here, and wait for someone to collect him and his belongings.

It was a wait of less than five minutes, before a man in a golf shirt and khaki cargo shorts pulled up behind his leased car.

“Mr. Ramirez?” he asked, with a smile.

“That’s me.”

“Need some help, with your bags?”

“I’ve got them, thanks.” Guy dropped the larger suitcase into the cargo section of the four-man golf cart, laid his garment bag with his suits and shirts, on top, and climbed in, next to the driver.

“Tom Owens, Civics,” he introduced himself, offering his hand.

“Miguel,” Guy reciprocated, “or Mike. Whichever you’re more comfortable with. Spanish, obviously,” he added with a self deprecating grin.

“Good to meet you, Mike. That water’s for you,” Tom indicated an unopened bottle, in the cup holder. Don’t forget to buckle up.”

“Thanks,” Guy replied, both for the water and the advice.

“I can take you directly to your quarters, or give you a cook’s tour, if you’d prefer.”

“The tour, hands down, if you have the time.”

“I have plenty, and it’s not like it’s a big place. We call it ‘the City’, because it’s more populated than the Suburbs, or the Outskirts, which isn’t saying a lot. You’ve seen the parking structure, only three levels, and half of the bottom is dedicated to visitor parking.”

“Is it a long walk, from my quarters, to my car?”

“It’s no walk, at all. I’ll show you, when we get to the bottom.”

In a few moments, he pulled to a stop, on Level 0.

“That’s the cart parking area. Most of the carts are out, now, seeing as it’s Sunday, and no one is at work. Every City residence has one. They’re a safe, efficient way to get around.”

Tom released his brake, and drove on.

“You say no one’s at work, but who’s taking care of the kids?”

“We have non resident staff, who do that. They rotate, in and out, on a weekly basis. Where you’re from, some of the staff is permanent live in, isn’t it?”

“The dorm supervisors are. The teachers most of the oversight, at meals.”

“It’s different, here. Teachers do as they like, at meals. Eat in the cafeteria, go home, for a sandwich; even leave campus, but that’s rarely done. You can make it to Tucson, hit a drive through, and make it back, on time, but it’s not worth it. There’s one of our little cafes,” he pointed out a building, with a clean but faded paint job. “Ice cream parlor,” he pointed out another one. “That’s a must, in the desert.”

Guy smiled. The name of the place was Desert Desserts. Not imaginative, but apt.

“Here’s one of our bookstores. The other caters to students, but this one is more universal.”

“You have a bus system?” Guy asked, referring to one of several covered benches they had passed.

“Not exactly. We have larger carts that seat six, including the driver, that make the rounds. Students can catch those, to go from place to place, if they don’t feel like walking.”

“They just run all over the place, huh?”

“Pretty much, except for the restricted areas. The teachers’ quarters have a hard barrier, for example. No students allowed, under any circumstances. Students from the Suburbs are allowed limited access, to parts of the City — gender segregation, you know. But, students residing in the City are discouraged from visiting the Suburbs. The Outskirts are strictly off limits.”

“What about teachers? I’d just as soon not stumble into an area, where I shouldn’t be.”

“I don’t think you’ll need to worry about that. Everything that pertains to you, is here.”

Guy looked at Tom. He was relaxed, and there was nothing intimidating, in his manner. He’d made his statement, as if it were a simple matter of fact.

“I suppose you could visit the Suburbs, and the Outskirts, if you wanted to,” he continued. “There’s no real point, though. The kids on the Outskirts are on extreme suspension, from school. The kids in the Suburbs are suspended from education, except for what they’re motivated to seek, for themselves. Didn’t Dr. Hermann explain any of it, to you?”

“She touched on so many things, it was hard to keep up. Then, there was school orientation, on a Saturday, no less…”

“It’s a lot of information,” Tom agreed.

“Eldridge Memorial Park,” Guy read, off a brand new sign they were passing. Tom pulled over, to allow him a better look.

“They just renamed it, along with the amphitheater. In honor of Gordon Eldridge, of course. It’s a nice little green spot. Open to men and boys only. The women and girls have another, almost exactly like it, on the east side of the campus.”

“Why the segregation?”

“There are unisex parks, closer to the school. The grounds of this park are maintained by male students, from the Suburbs, and they aren’t allowed to interact with females. It’s also a designated area for public lectures, which those boys are encouraged to attend, to boost their social credit.”

“They’re not allowed, beyond that gate?”

“Not until they’re full students.”

“How can the guards tell? Everyone’s in their street clothes, today.”

Tom grinned. “By looking at their shoes.” He released his parking brake, and rolled on, through the gates, past several food trucks.

“Where are the City students allowed to socialize?”

“Everyplace else. They’ve earned the privilege. The ice cream parlor is a popular hangout. The seniors seem to prefer the coffee and donut shop.”

“No actual dating, then.”

“Curfew is 9 p.m, but you’ve seen the common rooms, inside the school proper. There are dances and movie nights. Plenty of opportunities to hold hands and steal kisses.”

They made a hard right, onto short stretch of pavement, with a guarded gate, at the end. The guard waved them past, and they continued onto a short paved road, that ended in a store parking lot, at some distance.

“The teachers’ compound is laid out simply. All the streets are loops, and there are six of them — more streets and homes than we actually have teachers, at present. That’s our neighborhood grocery, directly ahead. You can also find some other household items, there. Anyway, you and I are on Second,” he said, turning off, onto that street. He referred briefly to his mini clipboard. I have you at 2103, sound right, to you?”

“Sounds right.”

Tom drove slowly past a couple of bright green mailboxes, before turning into the drive of a dwelling that looked exactly like all the others, on the street, except for the number.

He stole a glance at Guy, and laughed at the slightly younger man’s expression.

“I know. Gravel and rocks are what we have plenty of. Grass, not so much.”

“What is that Dr. Seuss abomination?” Guy pointed to the most prominent plant, in his graveled yard.

“It’s a Joshua tree. Ornamental plants are limited here, too. The desert makes for humorless HOA president. Your cart is already on the charger,” he pointed to the carport, which housed the vehicle. “We’re on solar power here, but please don’t ask me how it gets to us, from the farm. That’s above my pay grade, as a Civics teacher.”

“How about water? Are there restrictions?”

“We have thirty-gallon water heaters, so your hot water is pretty limited. It’s enough, for a shower, and to hand wash your dishes. You’ll have to take your laundry to the laundromat, where the machines regulate the water usage. It’s not so bad – we find ourselves socializing there, quite a bit. It’s up the road, next to the grocery store.”

He hopped out, and grabbed Guy’s bags. Guy decided not to protest, and led the way up the steps, pulling out the key he’d been issued. The cool air that rushed out, when he opened the door, was a sweet blessing, even after so brief a ride.

“I turned your AC on, before I went to pick you up.”

“I appreciate it,” Guy said, as they stepped inside.

“It’s set at eighty degrees. You may want to adjust it. My wife and I usually keep ours around eighty. ‘Cool’ is relative, we’ve found. I’ll leave you to settle in, but we’re having dinner at seven, if you feel like joining us. We’re at 2106. It’s the white house, with the green mailbox, in front of the gravel yard. You can’t miss it.”

Guy chuckled, appreciatively. “Could I get your number, just in case?”

“That might help.” Tom proceeded to recite it, as Guy typed it into his phone.

Ted

She was waiting for him, when he came home. He found her seated on the sofa, doing nothing, which was so unlike her, that he froze, in the act of closing the door behind him.

Nina’s coloring was ashen, and her expression was such a mixture of fear and confusion, that he could only suspect the worst. When her eyes met his, so solemn, so impossibly adult, in their assessing gaze, his temporary paralysis broke, and he shoved the door closed, and hurried toward her, ignoring Raven’s demands for attention.

“Sweetheart, what’s happened?”

“I found this, when I was doing the laundry.” She held out her right hand. In her palm was a small, silver class ring. “It fell out of the pocket of your jeans. Don’t try to tell me you forgot to turn it in to the Sheriff.”

“I wouldn’t tell you that.” He fought to keep the panic out of his voice.

He had expected the worst, or so he’d told himself, but he hadn’t expected this. How had he forgotten to put it away?

To hide it. How did I forget to hide it?

“Good. You won’t add one lie, to another.”

“It wasn’t —”

“Don’t you dare, Ted! Don’t you dare tell me you didn’t lie to me!”

“I did lie,” he admitted. “But not for the reason you think.”

“No? Not to ‘protect’ me, from the truth?”

His felt his face fall into the impassive mask he wore, with strangers. “Not just that, no.”

He reached for the ring, but her hand closed around it, in a fist.

“Why, then?”

“To protect someone else, as well. From going to prison, for doing the right thing, by Gordon.”

This had not been the thing to say, judging by the horror, in her widened eyes.

“I don’t know you, anymore. Did I ever know you?”

“Give me the ring, Nina. I’ll put it in my office safe.” He managed, somehow, to keep his tone level and calm.

“I think maybe I should just hang onto it. You’ve been careless with it, up to now.”

“Give it, to me.” He hated the commanding sound, of his own voice.

“I’m not one of your servants, Ted. You can’t speak to me, or look at me, that way.”

He had failed to notice a change in Raven’s behavior, throughout the exchange. Her low growl made him stiffen, now. Raven was Nina’s dog, and always had been.

“Raven, sit,” Nina said. “Lie down.”

The dog obeyed, but she never took her wary eyes off Ted.

“If you’re protecting a murderer, then you know who it was,” Nina continued.

“I know, yes. I’m not going to tell you.”

“I didn’t expect you would. It’s not too late, for you to turn it in,” she said, referring to the ring.

“I can’t do that, love. And, I can’t trust you, not to do it.”

“You can’t trust me. That’s rich.”

“The irony isn’t lost on me, either. I can’t answer your questions, Nina. The answers would break your heart. I’d sell my soul, if it meant that I could go back, in time, and prevent you from finding that ring. Holding onto it, will only bring you misery. Turning it in, would bring you — all of us — catastrophe. If you never believe another thing I say, is true, believe that.”

“I believe it. Protecting a murderer makes you an accessory.”

“Yes. I’m protecting a person who killed a man who deserved to die.”

“For what he did, to you?”

“No!” Ted’s heard the sharpness in his voice, and softened it, before continuing. “Not for anything he did, to me, or to Hannah, or to you. For what he did to her,” he nodded toward Nina’s clenched fist, “and to others, I think.”

She was beginning to waver. Her fingers loosened around the object, in her right hand, tightened, then loosened again.

“How many others?”

“You don’t want —”

“Don’t tell me what I do and do not want to know!”

Raven sat up again, all her focus on Ted.

“Seven, maybe eight.”

Nina groaned, the sound seeming to come from her soul.

“Here,” she thrust out her hand, blindly. “Take it.”

Ted was just in time to get his palm under her hand, as she dropped the ring. He curled his own fingers around it, determined to remove it, from her sight. He’d now done to her, what he wouldn’t do to Janice — he’d made her an accessory.

She knew it, too. The look of betrayal, in her beautiful, dark eyes, said so.

“You only saw it once, in your life. You made sketches of it, for me, the morning I brought it home. You thought I turned it in, because that’s what I said I was going to do.”

“That’s the story?”

“For your sake, and for our child’s sake, yes. That’s the story. Legally, you couldn’t be made to testify against me, but you have to be careful, not to volunteer anything. Unless, you want to?”

“Right now, what I want, is for you to leave, Ted. I need… I need time, to think about this. It’s not as if you don’t have someplace to go, and people to take care of you.”

Her face was implacable. He wanted to argue, but he knew it would only make matters worse.

“All right. I owe you that, at least. Can you stand having me around, long enough to pack a bag?”

“Of course. Do you need some help?” There was nothing in her tone, to suggest sarcasm — merely a twitch of an eyebrow.

Later, he might find the barb amusing. Right now, he did not. He was tired, and angry, with no moral right to complain of either.

“I think I can manage.”

***

As he drove away, ten minutes later, a half remembered quote, from his pre-law days, before he had changed his major, came to mind: ‘…For they came out of unholy darknesses… but they were driven away by the rage of angels…’

*******

Guy

“So, how are the new digs?” Steph answered the phone.

“A step up, from the motel, in some ways. I have three humidifiers, now.”

He was rewarded with a chuckle.

“I’ve also got my own electric cart, a blinding, white gravel yard and a mature tarantula, in the linen closet.”

“Bullshit!”

“It’s true. Each little cracker box comes with an electric golf cart. Sucker seats four, and can do twenty-five miles, per hour.”

“I meant the spider, jackass.”

“Oh, her. She’s about as big as the back of my hand. I’m just calling her, ‘Araña’, for the time being.”

“I’m guessing that’s Spanish, for ‘spider’.”

“Hey, I never claimed to have an imagination. What I do have, is a new terrarium, to set up.”

“Guy, if you bring a tarantula into this house —”

“Relax, Steve. I’m taking her to school, for show and tell. The ‘tell’ part being in Spanish, of course. They’ll learn all about tarántulas.”

“Good grief. How do you know it’s a female, anyway?”

“My neighbor told me. She had a couple as pets, when she was a kid. She’s an Arizona blonde.”

“The neighbor?”

“The spider. The neighbor has red hair. She teaches algebra, so it’s a good thing we had spiders, to talk about. Holly says the rule of thumb is to treat them like goldfish. Feed them, look at them, and don’t handle them, any more than you have to.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

“Of a spider?”

“Of the neighbor. You break my heart, Steve — you really do.”

“Sorry. I’m not trying to be a buzzkill.”

“You’ve got a storm brewing, in the Gulf. The barometer is falling.”

“That’s a bogus theory, vato.”

“No, it’s science. Look it up. Plus, I have a feeling things aren’t going so well, on your end.”

“Things aren’t going, on my end. Ted has no use for me, at all. He doesn’t even have much, for Kayla.”

“Is he still sharing data, with you?”

“He is, but it’s not anything I can use. Right now, Kayla’s back, and I have her working on tracking Starkey down. As soon as we’re done talking, I’ll get back to looking for DJ.”

“I understand looking for DJ. But, Starkey?”

“Claims he didn’t kill Gordon. Maybe he knows more about who did, and/or why.”

“But, you like DJ, for it.”

“I do. Starkey wants to clear himself, though. He might be more likely to talk to me, than my prime suspect.”

“True. What about Anya Greene, as an info source?”

“I haven’t written her off, but she did pay for Jess to go to Saguaro, Springs. She also paid that extra hundred grand, that you saw, in some of the records. That was the last pertinent tidbit I got from Ted, before he dried up, as a source. Whatever it was for, she got half of it back, and blew town, a month before Gordon died. I found a divorce filing, so Ted is lying about David Eldridge being on a cruise, with her, or his source was.”

“Either way, that’s not good. Did you mention it, to him?”

“Haven’t had the time, or the inclination, today. When was the last time you spoke, to him?”

“Yesterday. I usually touch base, with him, before I call you, in case he wants to pass anything along. I’m sorry he’s freezing you out, Steve.”

“Freezing? Gaslighting, is more like it. He’s pretending to be indifferent, while trying to make me think my interest is… unnecessary.”

“He doesn’t understand your nature, does he? If it makes you feel better, he isn’t very impressed with my reports, either. This place reeks of unicorn farts, which is insidious, in itself, but that’s all I can offer him, right now.”

“No sign of Franklin, still?”

“I don’t expect there will be, until I’m actually in the school.”

“Guy… Did his parents pay the extra fee, on top of the Saguaro fee?”

“Yeah.”

“You know what it seems to be for, don’t you?”

“I know, Steve.”

The kid’s a blemish. His own words, which made him sick, now.

“I have to believe he’s all right,” he continued.

“You do,” she agreed. “I wish I could help.”

“You help. As long as yours is the last voice I hear, at night — that’s everything. I’d better go, for now, though, and set up Araña’s new home. She’s in a big plastic bowl, with air holes poked in the lid. After that, I have a dinner date, with another teacher, and his wife. Call you, later?”

“You’d better. And, Guy — don’t be distracted by the unicorn farts. Watch your ass.”

“Always. I got a whole other set of eyes, in the back of my head, for that.”