The Alumnus, A Novel by Phil Cline

Chapters Seven through Nine

Chapter Seven  

“Looney.”  We were alone again, just the detectives and me.  Detective Wiley had just weighed in with his considered opinion.  Characteristically short, but I was inclined to agree with his assessment.  

However, I was not anxious to see our suspect so described in official police reports.  It would mean the defense attorney would be halfway home to an insanity defense. Pretty cheap consequences for a brutal double murder; to be sent to the Looney bin for a few years, three meals a day and a cot plus the outside chance he would one day be found to have miraculously, or through the wonders of modern pharmaceuticals, to be cured and capable of returning to the company of civilized men and women, you know, those who don’t go around slamming ax heads into the foreheads of friends who have displeased them.   Not bad for an outcome.  I would have been satisfied with securing such a sinecure for some of my former clients. 

But not this time. This time I was being paid to minimize the chances of Drew Staten escaping accountability for his murders.  And, furthermore, I wouldn’t mind nailing the little creep anyway. So to speak.

The prisoner was being transported back to his cell in the county lock up and the detectives and I were taking our time conferring on what to do next.  

“Well, let’s not jump to conclusions before we’ve assessed whether he could be prevaricating.”  

Wiley looked at me curiously as if he had heard the word before, maybe even read it somewhere, maybe even had known the meaning once, but right now, its usage in the current context, was meaningless. 

Wanda picked up on the caution I was advocating.  “Don’t want to give him a chance of malingering, huh?”   

I was impressed that she had utilized the correct legal/psychological term.  Right out of the DSM (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual, third edition, the bible for the legion of psychiatrists supplementing their income by providing favorable expert testimony in criminal trials).  Inside all that moving, shifting, jiggling flesh was a brain, a detective smart enough to have paid attention to some of the eggheads she had undoubtedly heard testify in past murder cases.  

“Well, of course that’s always a concern.   Let’s take this a bit further.  Do we know what he is talking about?  Barriers?  Doors? It’s almost as if he is saying there are, uh were, two Brendas.  One of them still alive or something.  Anybody get that?”

“Hallucinating.”  Wiley’s pithy evaluation once again.  And, once again, something to be cautious about documenting lest we deliver the defense too much potential ammunition. 

‘Well, she seemed grounded…”, I began.

“As to time and space; temporal proximity is validated.”  

Wanda was filling in the blanks for me.  I looked up from her chest to her bright as a sunny morning smile.  My goodness, I thought, she does know this area.  Huge asset.  Good description for Wanda.  In more ways than one.  I congratulated myself on my wit even if was confined to internal dialogue.  Well, huge in many senses of the word I thought as my gaze fell once again on the largest set of breasts man or beast had ever encountered.  My mind was wandering again.  I needed to stay focused. 

“Yes.  But let’s be sure.  Have we covered the bases?  Is there a Third-Party Defense possible here?  Could there be an allegation that someone else killed Brenda; that this third person was dispatched by Drew as, what would it be? Retaliation?  A good defense attorney might get Staten’s charges down to a manslaughter charge.  Imperfect self-defense.  Even a mistake on his part could get him some relief from the murder charges.  Have we got it all covered?”

Wiley shrugged.  Wanda looked thoughtful. 

“There are some things we can run down.  Tie up a few loose ends.” Wanda said.  “But maybe there’s something to what he is saying.”

I stared at her.  I’m sure my brow was netted.  Was Big Wanda squirrelly after all?

As if reading my mind, she said, “No.  Listen.  Maybe.  Just maybe.  There is something close to what he is saying.  Making him believe things are a certain way. He doesn’t come across as making this stuff out of the blue.  Might be worth looking into, you know.”

I was skeptical, but it couldn’t hurt and might head off a possible defense.

“Okay.  Take it as far as you can.  Just no written reports to memorialize anything until we have a chance to talk it out first.  Understood?”

Without replying, Wiley was up and out of the room.  Wanda lingered a little bit.  

“When do you want an update,” she asked, “you know without an official report?”

“Well, as soon as possible.”

“Good.  Meet me at BARNEY’S BAR AND GRILL” seven p.m.  

And before I could decline, she was gone.  For such a big girl she could move out of range with surprising alacrity.

I decided I needed a nap.  It was not to be.

Chapter Eight

I squirmed into my Porsche.  It had once been my pride and joy.  It was beat up now.  I foolishly signed the five-year lease four years ago after I had had a few too many drinks and soon I would have to lease another car if I was to avoid the balloon payment.  It was only later I found out Big Donnie also owned the Porsche dealership.  Maybe this case would give me a little leverage to negotiate some better terms or get out of the sucker’s adhesion contract altogether.  

I pointed my ride north.  Two blocks on Broadway, cut over to Shasta then straight through town to Minot and I was at my condo.  All I had left after the divorce.  You would think I would have come out better off than I did, being a lawyer and all.  But back then I was just tired of everything.  Wanted out.  And then in one of my “episodes” I liked to call them, “binges” my Ex liked to call them, Marta called thme that too, well, anyway, I got out.  Just gave up and gave it all away.  I was tired of it.  Didn’t want to fight anymore.

Problem though, even though I was rid of the marriage and all the things that went with it, I was still tired.  All the time.  Except after I had the first few, the two or three drinks that started my buzz.  But my drinking seldom stopped there.  Not voluntarily at least.  But today I was in hopes that I could sneak a couple of hours of sleep, blessed sleep, and be good to go by the early afternoon.  Marta would think I was still working downtown.  Everyone else would think I was elsewhere.  I knew I could escape all this for a while.

Bad timing.  As I pulled into the underground garage, I saw Tammy J.  She had just pulled into a guest parking space.  Worse.  She saw me. And waved.  My wave in return was desultory, reluctant.  But what choice did I have?  She had come by a couple of times since the reunion.  Had developed a fondness and familiarity with my bar and my booze.  And I had to admit that after we got in the right frame of mind, we had fun.  My kind of fun; her kind of fun.  But she seldom came around during the day.  At least I didn’t think she did.  If I wasn’t at work, I was probably passed out and wouldn’t hear the doorbell or phone anyway.  Today I wasn’t happy she was here.  I wanted to sleep.  Bad. 

“Nick!” She was happy enough for the both of us.  And too loud.  “I’m so glad I saw you driving downtown.  I don’t know, I just knew you were headed here.  So, I thought I would stop and say hi.”

“Well, I’m glad you did.”  I was moving toward the front door.  She threw her arms around my shoulders and buzzed my cheek.  

“Let’s have us a quick drinkie-poo?”

I nodded.  No getting out of it now.  

“Sure.  Come on in.”

She flounced in front of me through the door.  Nobody could flounce like Tammy J.  Maybe this interlude would be all right after all.

She immediately went to the bar and fixed us a drink.  I liked how she mixed them.  She gave me mine, another buzz to the cheek, turned on the T.V. and ensconced herself on the couch in her usual spot.  A bright smile.  She was indeed happy.  And exactly where she wanted to be right now.

We sipped and watched “Price Is Right”.  Not the first time we sat in my living room watching game shows and drinking in the afternoon.  I knew she should be out selling real estate and she knew I should be doing lawyer stuff, but here we were playing hooky.  Again.  

Unaccountably she asked, “What’s going on with the case?”  I had to refocus from the contestant ‘s choice of what was behind Door number One, Two, or Three.  I had to focus instead on her question.  Took a second to discern the meaning of her inquiry.

“Oh.  That.  Well.  Not much.  We are still putting it together.” 

“So, did Drew do it?  Do it all?”

I guess I wasn’t surprised she knew we had Drew in custody.  Small town.  Still, I asked, “How did you know we arrested Drew?”

She shrugged her shoulders.  On her it was an endearing move.

“Makes sense.”  She looked back at the screaming contestants on T.V.  Some extremely loud fat woman had picked door Number One and had just won a new washer and dryer.  Nice.

I waited for Tammy J. to continue.  She would.

“That whole group.  You know, there was always something weird about them.  Brenda Dickey, Drew Staten, the others.  Smart, but out there.  That teacher. What was her name? Math and Physics.  Vuitch?  Whatever. She favored them.  Talked their language.  They were always in her room at lunch while the rest of us were hanging out on the quad.   Something abnormal about their relationship.  She was so harsh to the rest of us.  Treated rest of us like we were dumb.”

“We were,” I pointed out, “at least as it related to Trig and Physics and all that.”

“Well, yeah, of course.  But she would actually sneer at us in distaste.  I remember her looks.  But she would touch them.  You know on the arms, and hands. Pat them on the back.  Saw her hug Brenda once.  And not just a little hug.   Full.  They had their arms around each other. And I heard once she kissed Drew.  Full on the mouth, too.  Two freshmen caught them.  Walked into class over lunch and there they were washing tongues. “

“Who said that?  Who were they?”

“I don’t remember.”

“I can’t see it.  Who would kiss that old crone?”

“Well, I don’t know that there was anyone else for them to kiss.  Anyway, they had this special deal, you know.  They were going to go somewhere together after graduation.  All of them.  And old Mrs. Vuitch too.”

I remembered something about that.  

“What was that?  They were going to South America or something?”

“No.  That’s what some kids made up.   You remember Dora?”

I must have looked mystified.  

“No.  You probably don’t.  Well, anyway, Dora was one of them and she was a real nervous type.  Doubt you ever even spoke to her. Though everyone said she had a bit of a crush on you.  Anyway, she was mousy, always sitting in the back of the room.  Didn’t want to be seen.  Well, the girls got on her one day in gym. Picking on her. Being mean.  We could be awful back then.  Shameful.  But they were getting to her.  She was crying.  Then she started screaming.  Guess she’d had enough.  Well, she said, hollered really, she was going with her friends and Mrs. Vuitch to a place none of us could go and it would be wonderful.   Somebody called out, yeah, like where?  France? And she screamed NO!  It’s right here and you can’t see it, but we will see you and we will get you too.  Tears were just streaming.  She was really, really mad.  Babbling nonsense.  So mad she started coughing.  And then she just ran off.”

I looked over at the T.V.  I was really sleepy. Could feel myself nodding off.  

I mumbled, “Where was it?  What she said.   Why couldn’t you go there?”

I could feel my eyes closing as I heard her say. “She said, for us there was a barrier.”

Chapter Nine

I awoke with a bad case of road mouth.  

It was dark in the apartment and since the curtains were open, that meant it had to be dark outside and if it was dark outside that meant I had slept away the day and if I had slept away the day then Marta was going to kill me.  I closed my eyes again and felt around for a pillow to hide my head under.   I touched something nice and soft and because Tammy J. sighed, I figured my hand had mined breast or thigh or hip or something erogenous and she probably thought I was making my move.  By now she knew all my moves.  But I didn’t want to make a move unless it was to the bathroom to brush my teeth and relieve the incredible amount of pressure that had built in my bladder during my sojourn in drinkie poo dreamland. 

I rolled off the couch to a sitting position on the floor.  My head down, my eyes remained closed.  The T.V. was still on.  The news.  That meant it was after six.  I opened my eyes and looked at Tammy J.  Her legs were akimbo, and her head lolled back over the couch’s cushion.  She was snoring.  Loudly.  I wondered at her ability to sleep with her head in that position, but then I had seen her put her head in some pretty weird positions.  She snorted, farted a little and sighed again.  Evidently my unintended caress remained in her dream.

Over onto all fours and then one hand on the coffee table, I pushed myself up into a position to fully standing.  Close enough anyway.  

Wanda.  I remembered Wanda.  I was to meet her at seven or was it six?  And where?  Oh, yeah, Barney’s.  Whatever the time, I needed to get a move on.  No good could come from the case detective making a bad report on me and besides, her size, while maybe in her mind was made for love, to me, was made for crushes of another kind.  I didn’t want to be on her bad side.  Late would be okay.  Not showing could be dangerous.

I ignored Tammy J. and headed for the bathroom to shower, comb my hair, barf and brush my teeth in that relative order.  Tammy J. might be gone when I got out of the shower or she might just stay the whole night. She had done both.  It never seemed to be a bother to her that I left, went out without her.  I assumed she assumed it was the job.  She was comfortable with me doing that.  I liked that.  My goings and comings had been a big irritant to my Ex-wife.  I shuddered at the memories of my marital history and stepped into the shower.  

Forty-Five minutes later, my hair still wet, sporting a little stylish stubble on my chin and jaw (no time to shave) I walked into the small bar and tavern known as Barney’s.  

It was nice and dark.  My kind of place.  The only lights were the reflections from fancy beer neon signs: flowing rivers, flowering fields, waterfalls.  Everything looks more elegant in reflected light.  

After my eyes adjusted, I looked around the room. I figured it should not be hard to spot Wanda, my big girl date.  Sure enough there she was in a booth on the back wall.  She had done a good job strategically of selecting a place we could talk since it was the only booth on that part of the wall and was usually occupied by the pool players.  Tonight, there were no players.  The table was covered. It had been out of commission for the last couple of months thanks to a couple of drunks who went after each other with pool balls and sticks. One of them was still in the hospital.  The other had lost an eye.  Brutal way to fight. 

I made my way over to Wanda.  On the way I waved at the faithful barkeep, and he immediately pulled down the bottle of Crown Royal.  I knew a waitress would be delivering my Crown on the rocks before my seat got warm.  I must admit I was in a quandary about where to sit.  Wanda took up a large part of the booth. Since she seemed to be leaning to the right, I moved to occupy a small space on her left.  Her big arm was on the back of the booth, causally draped along the top of the cushion, the way a guy would do it.  It wouldn’t take much for her to reach around, grab me and pull me into her cavernous bosom.  I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.  Whatever her purposes would be I would be helpless to resist.  I kind of’ liked that.

“So, Counselor.  Did you have a good day?  Why’s your hair wet?”

“Yes.  Pretty good.  I had to remove some road smells before meeting up with my new favorite detective.”

“Well, I’m pleased, I guess.  Tried calling you today at your office.  A couple of times.  Your secretary was in foul mood.”

“I bet she was.  She’s not a secretary and doesn’t like to be called that.  She’s a full fledge paralegal.  Does good work. She should be an attorney.  Never got around to law school.  Would be a good one if she ever did.”

“I’m sorry to say, she certainly didn’t seem to be as enamored of your legal abilities.  In fact, she was rather critical.  And she made a point of addressing your moral failures as well.”

“All of which is true.  To a point.  Lets’ change the subject.  Did you take our line of inquiry any further?”

“Well, yes.  It’s what I wanted to tell you when I called.  There is something there.  I don’t know what exactly.  A group of your classmates Staten hung out with went away to college.  Some to the same school, others scattered around the U.S., one even to England.  There were eight or nine of them as near as I can make out.  Then after they graduated, they were supposed to get back together as a group.  For some joint enterprise.  I haven’t got it clear yet what it was supposed to be.  But they had stayed in touch in college and then were getting together after.”

“And what’s that got to do with our case?”

“That’s just it.  Drew was one of the group.”

“Even if he was, does that connect with the murder? Murders?”

“It does when you understand that both victims were also in the group.  Brenda and the guy, both.”

The thought of what Tammy J. had said just before I passed out back at the condo popped into my mind. 

“Was there a grown up in this group?  A teacher?”

“Yes.  A mentor one person called her.  Math teacher.  Lady.  I think they were going to do something high tech, like over in Silicon Valley, but different.  Chemical.”

“How do you know all this?”

“One of them told me.”

“Who, who told you about this?

“Dora.   Dora Mason.  She says she went to school with you, but she says you wouldn’t remember her.”

She was right and Tammy J. was right.  Dora might have been a classmate, but I had absolutely no memory of her.  

I felt a big paw fall on my shoulder.  It gently tugged me toward the mountain of womanhood next to me.

“Let’s have a drink, Counselor.  Enough business.  You look like you could use a drink.  Well, here we are,” and she looked up at the waitress and took the drink being proffered and place it in front of me.  “Drink up. You might need your strength before this night is over.”

I shuddered.