The Influencer, page 20
part #10 of Professor Molly Mysteries Series
I hung up and told Donnie what happened. He was playing peekaboo with Francesca.
“Don’t ever start smoking, baby,” Donnie said to Francesca. “Smoking is bad for you. Icky!”
“Smoking!” she exclaimed.
“I bet she’s not even embarrassed about burning our house down.” I picked up Francesca and held her to me. “No smoking, okay?” I murmured.
“Smoking!” she yelled, pushing back from my chest. “I smoking! I smoking!”
Donnie took the baby from me and handed me a brimming glass of wine.
“Molly, it’s a good thing Linda’s not embarrassed. We don’t want her to be upset. No more feuds. Don’t you think?”
“Yeah, you’re right. Speaking of landlords. Now that the renovation’s wrapping up we should think about finding renters again. I’m already getting inquiries from these morbid types who want to stay in a Death House. But I don’t think those are the kinds of tenants we want.”
“I found out Davison’s having some relationship issues,” Donnie said. “He talked to me about moving back to Mahina and renting the place from us. Francesca, go give mommy a big hug.”
I sank down onto the couch, not believing what I was hearing. Francesca came toddling over and I absently snatched her into my arms. My awful stepson, living right next door? Having his sketchy friends over there partying noisily at all hours, letting his dogs tear up the lawn and poop everywhere, and no doubt conveniently forgetting to make his rent payments? I’d call Jandie and get the name of her divorce lawyer before I let that happen.
“Donnie, Davison cannot—”
“I told him no,” Donnie said.
“You told him what? Donnie, you did? You told Davison no?”
The only thing Donnie and I had ever really fought about was his son Davison. And now Donnie was actually contemplating not giving Davison everything he wanted? This was a turning point.
“He’s a grown man now, Molly. He and Tiffany have to be there for their son. I told Davison they need to work through whatever issues they’re having. He can’t keep running away from his problems, and I’m not always going to be there to bail him out. Do you think I was too harsh?”
“No! No, you’re right, Donnie. Your advice sounds really sensible.”
I felt a surge of affection and admiration for my wonderful husband. It had taken a few years, but he’d finally stood up to his spoiled son.
A pounding on my door interrupted us. Still holding Francesca, I ran to answer it.
Harriet and Nigel Holmes stood on the porch.
“Oh I say, Barda,” Harriet exclaimed, “this is an uncharacteristically maternal look for you.”
“Hullo, look at the little sprog.” Nigel reached out and chucked Francesca under the chin.
“Spog!” Francesca announced. “I smoking!”
Donnie came up behind me.
“Harriet, Nigel. Would you like to come in? You have time for a glass of wine?”
“Why, Harriet,” Nigel said, “Doesn’t that sound absolutely—”
“Not now, pumpkin,” Harriet interrupted. “Barda, there’s something you need to see.”
“Harriet darling, perhaps they’re busy—”
“Nonsense. I think you need to see this.”
CHAPTER 47
DONNIE, THE BABY, AND I followed Harriet and Nigel up the street to their house.
Or, to be precise, to where their house used to be.
“Well, Barda.” Harriet sounded almost accusing. “Seems you were right all along.”
“Me?” I stared at the sloping pile of rubble, dark and ominous in the twilight. “What do you mean? What happened to your house?”
“What house?” Donnie asked. “Where?”
“Dass not a house!” Francesca giggled. “Dass a rocks!”
“Rotten luck, what?” Nigel said.
“You were right about Linda Wilson, that self-important, bloviating cow,” Harriet fumed. “She’s a mean, cheeseparing skinflint who refuses to maintain her property to a decent standard and doesn’t give a fig about people’s houses sliding into graveyards when they least expect it.”
“The retaining wall gave way?” I asked.
“Didn’t even put up a fight. Just as you predicted, Barda.”
“What did you predict, Molly?” Donnie asked.
“I’m not an expert or anything, Harriet. I was only asking about it because it looked a little unstable to me. I mean, rocks kept breaking loose and falling down into the cemetery.”
“Are you saying there was a livable house here?” Donnie asked. “I’m sorry, I haven’t spent a lot of time walking around the neighborhood.”
“Until just a few minutes ago,” Harriet said. “The only warning was a sort of vibrating sensation underfoot. Nigel and I got out just in time.”
“Did you call Linda?” I asked.
“She’s not picking up,” Harriet said. “We went round to knock on her door and she’s not answering that either.”
“We’ve nowhere to go,” Nigel added. “I suppose we’re lucky to be alive.”
Donnie and I looked at each other. He gave me a nod.
“Our rental unit’s just been fixed up,” I said. “They’ve repaired the fire damage. I mean, if you don’t mind that Mr. Henriques...um...”
“Why don’t you come spend the night?” Donnie interrupted.
“Ah, just like old times, eh darling?” Nigel said to Harriet.
“What?” Donnie said.
“Barda, you’ve got a vacancy then?” Harriet said to me. “This is opportune.”
“A vacancy? Yes. Yes, I guess we do.”
“Okay, great,” Donnie said. “I’ll go get my car. We can move a few of your things down before it starts raining again. Seems a lot has happened since I’ve been gone.”
“I’ll come with and fill you in.” Harriet trotted downhill to join Donnie and Francesca. “Back in two shakes.”
This was terrible luck for Harriet and Nigel, but all things considered, it was a stroke of good fortune for us. We weren’t likely to get better tenants than Harriet and Nigel Holmes. They were eccentric, sure, and my being Harriet’s department chair was a little awkward. But they weren’t going to throw noisy parties or vandalize the property. And I knew I could count on them to pay the rent.
Linda Wilson wouldn’t be happy about our poaching her tenants. Too bad. She didn’t maintain her property. It was a wonder no one was hurt. Linda had no one to blame but herself. Not that it would make any difference to her. She would still think of some way to blame me.
Nigel was already poking through the remnants of the collapsed house.
I went over to join him and examined the rubble to see what I could safely salvage.
“Here, let me help,” I said. “I don’t know what’s important, but—”
“No, no, please,” he insisted. “We’re already causing you enough trouble.”
“No trouble at all.” I saw the corner of a check stub poking out of the rubble and tugged it free. “We keep new toothbrushes and spare sweats just for guests. Tomorrow’s a school day, and...”
Something on the check stub caught my attention.
“OMH dot com?” I read. “Why does that sound...”
I looked up to meet Nigel’s gaze. Nigel’s complexion normally tended toward the florid, but in the sodium light he looked practically purple. And despite the cool evening, he was sweating.
“Silly for us to be poking about in the dark like this,” he stammered. “Not sure what I was thinking, really. We might as well head over to yours, take care of this tomorrow when it’s daylight.”
“Nigel,” I said. “OMH dot com? Is this OutsourceMyHomework dot com? What is this?”
Nigel gulped.
“You mustn’t tell Harriet,” he pleaded.
“You wrote those business plans for my students. It was you, wasn’t it?”
“Well, I...”
“Party Pooper?” I demanded. “Toot Sweet? Urine Luck?”
“Yes, that was rather good, if I do say so—”
“You taught at Balliol College! And here you are enabling academic dishonesty! What were you thinking?”
“You don’t understand, Molly.” Nigel looked down at the rubble beneath his feet. “Harriet thinks I’ve found a publisher for my memoir.”
“There are other ways to make money besides writing for an essay mill,” I said. “Legal, non-scummy ways.”
“It’s not to do with money,” Nigel said quietly. “We’ve got loads. It’s just that Harriet is so proud of me. She’d be crushed to know the truth.”
I saw the headlights of Donnie’s car coming up the street.
“I won’t tell Harriet,” I said. “Okay? But Nigel, you have to promise me two things. First, if you’re going to be renting our place, no more of this essay mill business. I’m legally liable for any criminal acts you commit on my property and the last thing I need is to get caught up in something like this. Tell Harriet you’ve already gotten the full amount of your advance and have that be the end of it. Don’t worry about royalties. Most books don’t earn out anyway.”
“Fair enough.” Nigel dabbed his eye with the back of his wrist. “What’s the second thing?”
CHAPTER 48
THE SENIOR SHOWCASE, the end-of-the year event where Mahina State’s Friends in the Business Community came to admire our best student work, was as scandal-free as I (and Victor Santiago) could have hoped. The business plans on display were an uninspired assortment of sports bars, party planners, and online clothing stores. The miscreants who had purchased their assignments from OutsourceMyHomework were not represented at the Senior Showcase. I had already assigned them failing grades for the course and reported them to the Office of Student Conduct. There they suffered severe consequences for their intellectual larceny, if by “severe” you mean “gently guided into an independent-studies program and allowed to complete their degrees by sleight of paperwork.”
Despite my class’s unremarkable showing, Victor Santiago, Vice-President for Student Outreach and Community Relations, was in a cheerful mood. The reason? He had just received news of an anonymous and shockingly generous donation to the university. During the closing remarks of the Senior Showcase, Santiago called me up to stand next to him as he made the announcement.
Please accept this gift to the Mahina State University College of Commerce, given in appreciation for the Department of Management and its department head, Dr. Molly Barda. Her tireless devotion to academic integrity has inspired this donation. In short, she’s bloody marvelous.
As I watched Victor Santiago read those words, I thought I saw him smile.
THE END
Also by Frankie Bow
Alice Mongoose and Alistair Rat
The Alice Mongoose Omnibus
Miss Fortune World: Hair Extensions and Homicide
Once Upon a Murder
Tabasco Fiasco
Schooled
Hair Extensions & Homicide / Supernatural Sinful Collection
Miss Fortune World: Supernatural Sinful
Sinful Science
Miss Fortune World: The Mary-Alice Files
Mary-Alice Moves In
Bayou Busybody
The Vanishing Victim
Aloha, Y'all
The Two-Body Problem
Black Widow Valley
The No-Tell Motel
Vampire Billionaire of the Bayou
The Pajama Murder
The Lost Weekend
The Mary-Alice Files Books 1-4
The Mary-Alice Files Books 5-8
Professor Molly Mysteries
Trust Fall
The Musubi Murder
The Cursed Canoe
The Black Thumb
The Invasive Species
Mother's Day
The Nakamura Letters
The Perfect Body
The Fever Cabinet
The Influencer
The Case of the Defunct Adjunct
Watch for more at Frankie Bow’s site.
About the Author
Frankie Bow teaches at a public university and writes two mystery series: The Professor Molly Mysteries, and licensed works in the Miss Fortune World.
Unlike Professor Molly, Frankie is blessed with delightful students, sane colleagues, and a perfectly nice office chair. She thinks if life can’t be fair, at least it can be entertaining.
Sign up for Island Confidential, Frankie's mystery newsletter, at subscribepage.com/ProfessorMolly
Read more at Frankie Bow’s site.
About the Publisher
Hawaiian Heritage Press publishes Hawaii's finest classic and modern literature.
Frankie Bow, The Influencer
