The Influencer, page 8
part #10 of Professor Molly Mysteries Series
“And neither do you, Barda. I’ll give it another go. Now, what are we trying to do?”
“Prove Jandie Brand’s husband killed her,” Emma said.
“Let the police do their jobs,” I said.
“You don’t believe Jandie’s husband killed her?” Emma shot back.
“It doesn’t matter what I believe. The professionals, whose actual job this is, will figure it out.”
“Barda, Nakamura,” Harriet interrupted, “I'll thank you to call me Mr. Ladd for the next day or so.”
“What?” Emma and I said at the same time.
“I will inhabit his mind. I will become him,” Harriet said. “Rather Zen, don’t you think so, Nakamura?”
“Ladd’s mind is not someplace I’d want to inhabit,” Emma said.
Harriet refilled her glass and drained it in two gulps.
“I am Edward Ladd. I am a formerly celebrated cartoonist fallen from fame, middle-aged and bald. My much-younger wife has surpassed me in every way. More famous, more beloved, and Heaven knows, far more attractive.”
“If you wanna be realistic,” Emma said, “no can talk all fancy li’dat. Ladd doesn’t have an English accent. Oh yeah, and the real Edward Ladd tells everyone how smart he is every chance he gets.”
“Well this is going to be interesting.” I stood up. “Harriet, I mean ‘Mr. Ladd’, It’s getting close to midnight and I certainly don’t want to keep you.”
Harriet stood up too.
“Say, looks like it’s time to blow this joint and get some shut-eye.” Harriet’s nasal tone was apparently intended to evoke an American accent. “I’m gonna take a powder. Adios, amigos.”
“I’d like Ladd better if he actually talked like that,” Emma said when Harriet had gone.
“At least we have the rest of the week for her to get it out of her system before classes start again,” I said. “Emma, I am so tired, I’m probably going to sleep late tomorrow. If you get up before I do, you and Pat can help yourselves to whatever you want for breakfast.”
“Oh yeah, I know,” Emma said.
CHAPTER 19
THE NEXT MORNING I woke up at seven a.m., much to my annoyance. I hadn’t slept well. The rain had been hammering on the roof all night, and the power had gone out sometime during the early morning. Pat and Emma were still asleep. I dragged the portable generator out of the garage and plugged the refrigerator in. I hoped I wouldn’t have to throw any food out. I went back into the garage to look for our long extension cord, but just as I found it, the power came back on. When I came back into the kitchen, the digital clocks on the stove and the microwave were blinking and needed to be reset.
Emma popped her head up from the couch.
“Molly, you’re up early. I slept good, you know.” She stretched her short arms over her head.
“I wish I could say the same.”
“Eh, I forgot to tell you. You know those papers you were worried your students were buying? I got a lead for you. Check out OutsourceMyHomework dot com. That’s the one that everyone’s...oh no, Molly.”
Emma flung her blanket aside and hopped off the couch.
“Whoa, Molly, you look bad.”
“Thank you?” I said.
“I know how it is. You get older, no can hold your liquor so good.”
“It’s not that, Emma, I just didn’t get to sleep—”
“Eh, I got my sweatpants on already. I’ll get us breakfast at 7-11. You like Spam musubi?”
“Yes please.”
I wasn’t on death’s door; I was simply tired. Also, Emma had seen me before I had a chance to put on any makeup.
I wound up the power cord on the generator and dragged it back into the garage. By the time Emma got back I had made coffee for myself and was feeling better. Emma had a bag of Spam musubis, a 12-pack of Mehana Red Ale, and a copy of the County Courier.
“Check this out.” Emma pushed the paper across the table to me. The headline above the fold read: Social Media Star Disappears, Husband Detained.
“Howdy Howell has the byline,” I said. “I thought he was just doing upbeat human-interest stories.”
“Things are a little different now with the husband in jail,” Emma pointed out. “Eh, I know you got your problems with Harriet Holmes, but you gotta admit, she knows what she’s talking about. She knew about Ladd going to jail before it was in the paper.”
“Emma, I do not have a problem with Harriet. She’s highly qualified and Mahina State is lucky to have someone of her caliber. Although I do have to ask, what kind of person gets sent to sexual harassment training and then makes improper advances toward one of the facilitators?”
“Maybe she took ‘sexual harassment training’ literally.”
“Funny, Emma.”
“It wasn’t unwelcome improper advances, at least,” Emma reminded me.
“Oh, I am aware. Now my headache’s back. Ow.”
“You stay right there, Molly. I’ll get your ice pack.”
Emma took the newspaper back and read to me while I pressed the cold pack against my eyeballs. No one had seen Jandie leaving Mahina, according to Howdy Howell’s story, and she was well-known enough to be recognized. She would have had trouble leaving town without anyone noticing.
The one ray of hope was the fact that no body had been discovered. Ladd hadn’t posted bail, and he wasn’t talking.
“Maybe he figures he’s safer in custody,” I said.
“Oh yeah, he’s right about that,” Emma replied. “Jandie’s fans wanna dismember him.”
Pat came over to join us at the table.
“You’re a fan, Emma. So does that mean you want to dismember him?”
“Not if it means I gotta touch him. Ew.”
“Good morning Pat,” I said.
“Oh, no, Molly. Headache again? You want some hydrocodone?” he asked.
“No thank you. Makes me queasy.”
“Eh, check this out.” Emma handed Pat the copy of the County Courier.
“Walking around the airport with a one-way ticket?” Pat said. “That’s funny. Almost like he wanted to get caught. Who is he protecting?”
“That guy, protecting someone?” Emma countered, “I think he’s just a moron. Criminals aren’t always masterminds, you know.”
“It’s almost lunchtime,” Pat said. “Don’t you guys have to be at work or something?”
“It’s spring break,” I said through the ice pack I had pressed to my face.
“Pat, you got somewhere to be?” Emma asked.
“Kind of. I’m meeting Howdy Howell for lunch.”
“Tell him we all liked his reporting this morning,” I said.
“Where are you meeting?” Emma asked.
“Not sure. We were gonna meet at the Pair-O-Dice, but I just found out the whole street’s still closed off because of the flooding. We were gonna compare notes on the Jandie Brand disappearance. Not sure we wanna call it a case yet.”
“Have him come here,” I said. “I have a big pan of char siu fried rice in the freezer so as long as everyone’s okay with that.”
“You’re okay with him coming here again?” Pat asked. “Last time you hid in your bedroom.”
“If it makes things easier, Pat, I am happy to have you invite your colleague here.”
“In other words,” Emma said, “Molly’s anti-socialness is defeated only by her nosiness.”
“Okay, first of all, thank you for putting the most negative possible spin on my gracious offer of hospitality. Second, it’s not ‘nosy’ to want to find out how my own tenant disappeared.”
CHAPTER 20
“GOSH, PROFESSOR BARDA, this is awful nice of you to invite me to lunch.” Howdy unfolded his napkin and tucked one corner into the top of his aloha shirt. I set the pan of fried rice down on the table and spooned a generous portion onto his plate.
“Howdy, do you think Jandie’s husband had something to do with her disappearance? I’m not being nosy, I’d just like to know whether there’s a murderer living on my property. Surely you can understand.”
“I honestly don’t know, Professor Barda, this was all so sudden. I never expected it. Although now that I think back...no, I better not say anything. In this country you’re innocent until proven guilty.”
He tucked into his fried rice, and I sat down, a little disappointed.
“For a smart guy, that attempted getaway was a dumb stunt,” Pat said. “Ladd must’ve known he couldn’t just try to fly out without someone noticing. Why didn’t he go hide out in Kuewa, or stow away on a cargo ship?”
“So you think there might be someone else that might be involved, Pat?” I asked. “And Ladd is taking the fall for some reason? If someone else is involved, that means that even while Ladd’s in jail, I could be in danger. At least Donnie and the baby are off-island but when they come back...is someone knocking at the door?”
It was Kaycee Kabua, our landscaper.
“Eh Kaycee, howzit!” Emma came up behind me, leaned out, and gave her a fist bump.
“I just left my sprayer in your carport on Sunday and I wanted to let you know I was getting it,” she said.
“Hello there,” said a voice behind me. “I’m Howdy.”
Kaycee wasn’t wearing her hoodie today. Her dark curls were loosely tied back, and her round face was prettily made-up. Howdy was so obviously impressed with her, he was practically wringing his hat (except he didn’t have a hat) and tracing circles on the ground with his toe.
After I made introductions, Howdy offered to accompany Kaycee out to the carport to help her carry anything that needed carrying. Kaycee accepted his assistance, even though she didn’t need it. She was easily capable of carrying the sprayer with one arm and Howdy with the other.
Howdy returned in an upbeat mood.
“Gee, what a terrific girl!” Howdy took his seat at the dining table and spooned a huge second helping of fried rice onto his plate.
“Right. Kaycee’s great. So, where were we? Jandie Brand is in danger or possibly dead, her homicidal husband’s in jail, we don’t know who else is involved, our rental is a murder house, and I might be next.”
Emma gave me a look.
“Am I wrong?”
“Aw don’t be so pessimistic,” Howdy said cheerfully “Know what they say, may as well look on the bright side. If things go bad, you can always cry later.”
You can always cry later?
I turned to Howdy.
“You,” I said. “Howdy, you were here with the Ladds. The day I dropped off the hurricane information sheet.”
Howdy didn’t deny it.
“Sure,” he said. “It’s possible. I’ve been over there a few times.”
“What were you trying to talk Jandie into?” Emma asked.
“Talk her into? Why, nothing that I recall.”
“Jandie said something about her landlady being a nosy crackpot,” I said.
“Well I sure don’t remember that particular conversation. But I can tell you where we had a little bit of, I don’t want to call it a disagreement, let’s say something that was under discussion. The County Courier expects its human-interest stories to have an uplifting tone. That’s what I was shooting for. I hate to say it, but the way the couple was with each other, wasn’t at all what I was hoping for. I was ready to write about a wife whose husband supported her fame and success. And a husband whose life was entering a second act, with his wife’s support and a new generation of fans.”
“So how come it wasn’t what you were hoping?” Emma asked. “She hated him, I bet.”
“I’m not sure it’s right for me to go into too much detail,” Howdy said.
“You must have been there that day,” I said. “I heard two male voices in the house. Why would Jandie call me a crackpot?”
Howdy looked genuinely confused.
“I can honestly say, Professor Barda, that your name never came up.”
“See?” Emma said to me.
“So what do you talk to them about when you go over there?” I asked.
Pat stood up.
“Don’t mind me. I’m getting a cramp in my leg.”
“Gosh, now that I think about it, I realize we always end up talking about Mr. Ladd’s new book.”
“He did say something about working on his writing,” Emma said. “I thought that big trombenik was just saying it to sound important.”
“Is there going to be a new book of cartoons?” I asked. “I’d be interested in reading it.”
“Maybe it’s a murder mystery where a husband does away with his younger and more successful wife,” Emma suggested.
“No, it’s neither of those things.” Howdy pulled his satchel out from underneath his chair and produced a black, one-inch binder and a red-and-white flash drive. “I have a pre-publication copy right here. I didn’t find much in here that I could use, but Mr. Flanagan, I thought you might be interested.”
“Does Ladd know you have these?” Pat took the flash drive and binder from Howdy, handling them as gently as if they were baby birds.
“Oh sure, Mr. Flanagan, he’s the one who gave them to me. He wouldn’t mind you having them. He told me his publisher was having trouble lining up reviewers and if I knew anyone who was interested, I should share it with them.”
“Is it about his life with Jandie?” Emma asked eagerly.
“No, she barely makes an appearance,” Howdy said. “Missed opportunity, if you ask me. There’s a lot of people out there who would buy anything having to do with Jandie Brand.”
Howdy ran his hand through his hair.
“I know I shouldn’t say this, but here goes. I think if you’re married to someone, you should want them to succeed, and you should be proud of them when they do succeed. I think Mr. Ladd resented his wife’s success. He thought he was the one who deserved to be famous, not her. I think he even thought she was standing in his way, if you can believe it.”
Emma turned to me.
“You’re a fan of this putz?”
“I did like his cartoons,” I said. “Boy. That saying about never meeting your heroes is true, isn’t it? Everything is disappointing.”
“Oh, except this fried rice, Professor Barda,” Howdy said brightly. “You’re a great cook.”
“I’ll take credit for heating it up,” I said, “but it’s from Donnie’s Drive-Inn.”
“Can I keep this?” Pat asked.
“Oh, sure, Mr. Flanagan,” Howdy said. “Like I said, I already read it. I’m no literary critic, but I gotta tell you, it’s not something I’d put myself through again.”
As soon as Howdy left, Pat inserted the flash drive into Emma’s laptop. The three of us crowded together and read from the screen.
It was obvious why Howdy didn’t want the book back. Ladd’s memoir was an aggrieved, rambling screed, the main point of which seemed to be that the world seemed to be set up in a way that Edward Ladd found personally inconvenient. Ladd particularly seemed to resent the social pressure to treat as equals those he thought of as his inferiors. Which was just about everybody.
Pat stood up and walked over to the window.
“Don’t mind me, I just need a break.”
“Me too,” I said. “I’m going to get something to drink.”
“Bring the box,” Emma called after me.
“If you plan to keep reading, you two should get on the liver transplant list now,” Pat said. “From what I know of the guy, I don’t think it’s gonna get any better. Did you know he calls himself a certified master of persuasion?”
“I believe it,” Emma said. “He musta been pretty freakin’ persuasive to get Jandie to marry him. I’m thinking telekinetic.”
“Here we go.” I sat back down and placed the wine box on the table. “Have all you want. We can always buy more.”
“Someone’s at the door,” Pat said. “I’ll go get it.”
It was detective Brian Medeiros. Pat invited him in, and we all moved to the living room. Detective Medeiros wouldn’t have fit at the dining table.
“Is it true Edward Ladd was arrested last night?” I asked.
“That’s correct,” Medeiros replied. “I came by as a courtesy, to let you know he made bail. So don’t be alarmed when he comes around.”
“Did he tell you where Jandie is?” Emma asked.
Medeiros sighed.
“No.”
“Great,” I said.
“Look,” Medeiros said. “Don’t go out of your way to contact him or anything like that, but if you see anything suspicious, you can call me. You have my card. Professor Barda, are your friends gonna stay with you?”
“Yes. You are, right?”
Pat and Emma nodded.
I nodded.
“Good,” Medeiros said.
CHAPTER 21
THE NEXT MORNING, THE story of Jandie Brand going missing had made it to the County Courier website. The comments on the online article were as constructive and enlightening as comments on the websites of local newspapers usually are. I closed the browser window feeling dumber for having read them. Enough internet for today, as the kids say.
The rain was hammering the metal roof, so I knew taking a walk was out of the question. Pat was in the guest room and Emma had gone to check on her house. I had already taken care of all outstanding laundry, dishes, and bills. One of my papers-in-progress had been revised and resubmitted and I was waiting to hear back from the editor. My other paper was currently with one of my coauthors.
For the first time in recent memory, my to-do list was empty. I got up to fix myself a big pot of tea. I’d finally get back to that murder mystery I’d been reading...
And then my computer beeped a notification. Another draft business plan uploaded to the course website.
I sat back down at my computer. I’d realized long ago that it was better to get grading done as assignments came in, instead of letting them accumulate into a demoralizing pile.
The draft business plan was flawlessly formatted and clearly written. There was so little room for improvement, I couldn’t even call it a draft. If this had been turned in as a final assignment, it would be an A paper.
