The Perfect Body, page 18
part #8 of Professor Molly Mysteries Series
But I wasn’t bitter about it. Really.
“Molly, did you hear the news about Stephen? This is Tiffany by the way.”
I brought the phone into the kitchen and poured myself a cup of coffee.
“I did hear about it. Detective Medeiros came to see us yesterday. Tiffany, I’m so sorry. If there’s anything I can—”
“I just want to know who gave my Stephen steroids,” she interrupted. “Was it that P.E. teacher friend of his?”
“You mean Bee Corcoran? Gosh, I don’t know. I mean, poor Bee is gone too now, of course. And as far as I know, the toxicology report hasn’t come back yet. I guess we’ll know more when it does.”
I was pretty sure Bee Corcoran had been Stephen’s source. She’d been using steroids in her rat studies, so she knew where to get them and how to use them. But I didn’t want to fan the flames by saying any of this to Stephen’s mother. And I could always be wrong.
“Well we’re not just going to go away quietly,” Stephen’s mother insisted. “We need to find out what happened to our son. Everyone seems to be stonewalling us.”
“Maybe Honey Akiona can help,” I said.
“Who?”
“She was Donnie’s lawyer—”
“We already have a lawyer.”
“But Honey is tied in to the community. She went to school here and she has some good contacts. If you want to get to the bottom of this, I really think she’s the one you want to talk to.”
Stephen’s parents got in touch with Honey Akiona. It turned out to be a good suggestion on my part, if I do say so myself. Honey contacted her old classmate Margaret Adams, who had recently relocated to Oregon. At Honey’s request, Margaret persuaded Keola Shiner, who up until recently had worked for Bee Corcoran, to sit for an interview.
Keola didn’t want to do the interview at first. But Margaret persisted, and finally, Keola agreed. He confirmed that he had worked in Bee’s lab, and that he and Bee Corcoran had clashed because Bee kept “losing track” of the rats. She thought no one could tell the rats apart, he said, but he could. He’d had pet rats since he was a boy.
In the meantime, the toxicology reports came back on both Bee and Stephen. Both had traces of the identical combination of synthetic anabolic androgenic steroids. Which meant the whole time Bee had been preaching to me about the wonders of green tea and steamed broccoli and long walks, she’d been perfecting her own physique with illegal drugs. So Bee had been a bit of a phony too. Maybe she and Stephen deserved each other.
And then, as Honey Akiona was investigating for Stephen’s parents, she dug up something else: Bee had been supplying Mahina State’s football team with performance-enhancing drugs. (This was the biggest surprise so far. Our football team had an unbroken losing streak this season. How much worse would they have been without performance-enhancing drugs?)
Armed with this information, Stephen’s parents made another run at the university. And this time, they were successful.
To make Stephen’s parents go away (and quash any bad publicity about the football program), the university offered Stephen’s parents a settlement. To Stephen’s parents, it was insultingly small. When I heard the amount, though, I knew it was big enough to hurt Mahina State.
If we really had to fork over that much money to Stephen’s parents, I knew we’d be buying our own toner and copy paper for the foreseeable future. Not that Stephen’s parents didn’t deserve some recompense, but still.
Stephen’s parents decided they’d gotten the best deal they could, and prepared to return to California. Before they left, though, they wanted to say goodbye. Which is how Donnie and I ended up having lunch with them at the Lehua Inn Coffee Shop. (Their lawyer had already gone back to Los Angeles.)
We could hardly refuse their invitation, but I wasn’t looking forward to it. Our good news, that Stephen had died of natural causes, was their bad news. While Donnie and I would be able to move on with our lives, Stephen’s parents would be leaving Mahina bereaved and, in their view at least, practically empty-handed.
One thing I’ve always appreciated about Stephen’s parents is that I never had to worry about awkward silences. As we waited for someone to come by and take our order, Stephen’s mother went on (and on) about what a great influence I had been on Stephen. She told Donnie what a lifesaver I had been that time I bought Stephen a ticket and loaded him onto a plane, so his sister could meet him at LAX and take him straight to rehab.
“Did ye ken any o’ this, Donnie?” Stephen’s father asked.
“No,” Donnie said truthfully. It had all happened before Donnie and I were dating, so I’d never seen any reason to tell him about it.
“What I don’t understand is the steroid thing,” Tiffany turned to me. “Are they sure about that?”
“I think so?” I stammered. Why was she asking me? I didn’t do the autopsy. “I mean, that’s what the medical examiner found.”
“But what do you think?”
I shook my head. “I’m not a real doctor. As my mother often reminds me. But I do trust Honey Akiona. I know, it’s hard to believe our football team has any kind of unfair advantage. I can’t remember the last time they won a game.”
“If you had stayed with Stephen this wouldn’t have happened, Molly.”
Poor Donnie. I reached under the table, found Donnie’s hand, and squeezed it. He squeezed back.
“So many young men are using performance-enhancing drugs these days,” I said. “Even in our high schools.” That added nothing to the conversation, but I felt like I had to say some words.
“We’ll be leaving wi’ nothing,” Stephen’s father muttered.
“Less than nothing,” Stephen’s mother corrected him, “when you count what we paid for the lawyer. It’s not like we need the money, Molly, but after how careless they were, your university should pay something. I mean, more than the pittance they’re giving us. Don’t you think? Angus, what about all of those safety things we have to do just to stay in business. Why should Mahina State get off without any penalty?”
“Our lawyer says if we tried to take it to court they’d drag it on for years.” Stephen’s father shook his head. “Like Tiff says, they’re getting away wi’ murder. It’s no’ right.”
“Molly,” Tiffany implored, “Tell me something. First your university tried to convince us our son had been murdered, just to get themselves off the hook. Now they’ve talked our lawyer into settling for crumbs. Do they not have a conscience?”
“Well, since you asked,” I said. “The problem is we can’t afford to have a conscience. We genuinely don’t have enough money to fix up our university and make it comply with all the laws we have to comply with. I used to hear people talk about it, but I never really believed it until I became department chair and saw the budget for myself.”
“Well I know lawyers cost money,” Tiffany countered. “Mahina State sure seems to have lawyers out the ying-yang.”
“They’re the university system lawyers. They’re already paid for. The reason our university drags things out like this is number one, as I said, we don’t have money, and number two, any bad publicity is going to scare off donors and students, and give the legislators a chance to flex their muscles on behalf of angry taxpayers by cutting our budgets even more.”
“They shouldn’t be able to get away with it, Molly.” Tiffany’s eyes were shining and rimmed with red now, although the rest of her face remained smooth and expressionless.
“Aye, they all expect us tae forget about our dead son and walk away,” Angus agreed.
“Can’t you think of something, Molly? You always were so clever.”
Then, to my astonishment, Donnie said,
“I have an idea.”
Chapter Forty-Six
“Things should be feeling normal again,” I complained to Emma. “Stephen’s death wasn’t the university’s fault, so the administration doesn’t have to frame my husband for murder after all. We’re going to get our bail money back soon, and life will go on. Why don’t I feel relieved?”
“Because now you know our administration’s so crooked they’d ruin your life to save themselves some money? And you know the prosecutor’s in their pocket?”
“Yeah, those things are pretty disturbing. The other thing is that there were times when I thought Donnie really might have done it. I wish I didn’t know that about myself. That I was capable of suspecting my own husband.”
Through the window of my new office, I could see the old hospital building. I made a mental note to look for semi-sheer curtains. Something that would let the light in, but obscure the view of the building where Bee and Stephen had both lost their lives.
“Funny that both of ‘em died the same way, yeah? In the same building,” Emma grunted as she ripped the packing tape from a box. She seemed to intuit what I was thinking. “Almost like they both—”
“No, no, no, no.”
“No what?”
I pulled out a disinfectant wipe and squatted to wipe down the dusty baseboards.
“Emma, I’m relying on you to reassure me. With your no-nonsense, science-based, anti-superstition point of view. Your job is to convince me that it’s mere coincidence that two people died in a way that looks like the last thing they saw…”
“Was a ghost?”
I sighed.
“Yes.”
“Yeah, I was kinda thinking the same thing, actually,” Emma mused as she shelved my books in random order.
“What? Emma, you don’t believe in ghosts. Besides, Stephen died of an aneurysm.”
Emma wiped her hands on the back of her jeans and then ripped open another box.
“I don’t believe in ghosts. But just cause I don’t believe in ‘em doesn’t mean they don’t exist.”
“How is that helpful, Emma? Hint: it’s not. Not when I’m moving in to this creepy old office.”
“What’s your problem, Molly? Scared of being in here by yourself?”
“No. Maybe.”
“I can buy Park dying of natural causes,” Emma went on. “He’s been abusing his body for years, ah? With the smoking an’ everything. But what made Bee bust through a fourth-floor railing? It’s like she was running from something, scared for her life. An’ they never figured out why, yeah?”
“Let’s talk about something else,” I said.
“Okay. Hey Molly, you wanna put anything in your secret room?”
“I don’t know. I should at least air it out first. It’s pretty musty in there.” I felt the paneling for the soft spot, found it, and pushed. Nothing happened. Emma came up and gave it a shove, which did the trick. The door swung open.
The little room looked smaller than last time, probably because it had grown in my imagination.
“You gonna ask Facilities to put in a light?” Emma asked.
“No. I’m not going to tell Facilities about this space. They’ll just take it away from me.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. And they’ll confiscate your door wedge while they’re at it.”
I went over to the window—which had much the same view as the other one—and unlatched it. I was able to muscle it open this time, although my efforts were rewarded with a shower of paint flakes.
“Eh, don’t breathe that in, Molly,” Emma warned. “It’s probably full of lead.”
“Shoot. Now I have to sweep it up.”
“Ready to take a break?” Emma asked. “Let’s fire up your coffee maker.”
“Good idea. Remember how we used to sit around in my office with Pat and drink endless cups of coffee?
“Yeah. That was the good old days. Before you turned into a dorky suburban mom. Wanna call him?”
“Yeah, why not? All he can say is no.”
It turned out Pat was at the downtown library doing research, and ready to take a break himself. He was at my office within five minutes. The coffee machine worked just fine and hadn’t caused any fuses to blow or anything. The office smelled warm and homey.
“Whoa, did they finally buy you new chairs?” Pat exclaimed. Emma was already seated in one of my two matching mesh chairs, drinking her coffee.
“No, there’s still no budget for office furniture. I had to pay out of pocket. My way of celebrating my new office. You want a coffee?”
“Sure. Wow, I get an actual chair!” He made a show of sitting down carefully, as if he had never seen an office chair before and wasn’t sure what it was going to do.
“Molly’s still sitting on her yoga ball, though,” Emma said.
“I’m used to the yoga ball. A real office chair would feel weird now.” I sat down on it with a bounce and brewed Pat a coffee. “These mugs are clean, by the way. Emma ran them through her autoclave. She says it’s better than a dishwasher.”
“You’re welcome,” Emma said.
Pat snorted as he took his cup. “What, like I care about germs? Coffee smells great, though. Thanks. Where’s the baby?”
“Donnie has her.”
“He brought her to the Drive-Inn?” Pat asked.
“Yeah, he wears the baby in that carrier thing,” Emma said. “The girls think it’s totally hot.”
“They do?” I asked. “Which girls?”
“The girls that work there.”
“What?”
“The customers, too. Come on, Molly, haven’t you noticed? I mean, Donnie’s already good looking. Strap a baby on him, and you can hear all the ladies ovulating when he walks by. Sounds like pennies dropping on a cookie sheet.”
Pat shook his head and took a sip of coffee.
“Don’t look at me. I’m not in this conversation.”
“Let’s talk about something else,” I said. “Pat, are you still friends with that antique dealer? The one with the store down on the Bayfront?”
“He moved back to the mainland. Why?”
“Why is everyone moving back to the mainland? So inconsiderate of them. I wanted to see whether he could tell me what this thing was for. I found it here.”
I dug the little engraved trowel out of my bag and handed it to Pat. He held it up to the window, looked at it from several angles, and set it on my desk.
“I’m stumped,” he said. “Why don’t you go online and do an image search?”
“We already did,” Emma said. “The internet thinks it’s a ski.”
Pat set his coffee down on my desk and took out his phone.
“I still have his number. I’ll text him a picture.”
“Pat, you should take some more pictures while you’re here,” Emma said. “For your haunted Mahina articles.”
“Mysterious Mahina,” Pat corrected her.
“Whatever. It just stopped raining so the light’s really good.”
“I have more than enough pictures of this place,” Pat said. “I just need to finish the installment I’m working on right now. That’s what I was doing in the library.”
“Didn’t you say something about planting a camera somewhere?” I asked.
“Yeah, the ghost cam. It was a bust.”
“Can’t you just add some mysterious glowing lights or something to your video?” Emma asked. “What do the movie people say? Fix it in post.”
“I’m not gonna add special effects. Give me some credit, Emma. I do have a few shreds of integrity left.”
“Where were you filming?” I asked.
“The front entrance of the hospital building,” Pat said. “I picked what I thought was the best angle. And before you ask, yes, I gave the police a copy of the video. Unfortunately, it wasn’t any help. It didn’t capture the place where Bee Corcoran died.”
“But if you got the front of the building, they’d be able to see who went in and out,” I said.
“The problem is a lot of people went in and out,” Pat said. “And as you well know, Molly, the front door isn’t the only entrance.”
After a little prodding from Emma and me, Pat agreed to show us the video on his phone. I put on my reading glasses and watched as the building lit up with the sunrise. Over the next minute the light on the downhill side of the building grew brighter. First a trickle and then a flood of people flowed up the stairs, with only one or two going back down. Because the action was speeded up, the tree branches twitched comically and the people swarmed like cockroaches.
“Wait a minute,” I said. “Can you slow this down?”
Pat took the phone back.
“See something the police missed, did you?”
“Maybe I did, Mr. Know-it-all.”
I watched the video again, finger hovering over the pause symbol. When I saw what I was looking for I paused the playback.
“Here,” I held the phone so Emma could see it. “Do you recognize her?”
“The smudge with the black hair?” Emma asked.
I took the phone back and zoomed in.
“No. Her.”
“Oh. The smudge with the light brown hair,” Pat said.
“And the blue shirt,” I added. “Don’t either of you see what I’m seeing?”
“How can you tell who it is?” Emma asked. “I can’t even tell if it’s a boy or a girl. Most of their face is behind that other lady with the long hair.”
“Okay, but now. Look.”
I took the phone back, started the video up, and paused it again.
“There. That’s her leaving.”
“Who?” Pat asked.
“Pat, it’s Margaret!”
“Oh, Margaret.” Emma leaned in for a closer look. “Yeah, it looks like her.”
“Who’s Margaret?” Pat asked.
“Margaret Adams. She took Intro to Business Management from me years ago. She was in the same class as Honey Akiona. She was working down at the bed and breakfast back then. That’s not important. But she’s been coming to my house every day and watching the baby.”
“Oh yeah. That Margaret. The accounting major?”
“Really?” I said. “Accounting major is the one thing you remember about her?”
He squinted at the screen.
“Can you think of a better way to describe her in two words? Yeah, I guess it could be her.”
