“Do your cats destroy things?” he said.
“No, because they have scratching posts and early on I trained them to behave.”
“Here’s my idea, though,” he said. “My mom needs to quit obsessing. A cat might be a way for her to realize that she can enjoy something without having to constantly clean around it. She does love animals.”
How did such a young kid get so smart? “Did you try to convince her with your logic?”
“I haven’t brought it up. I thought I’d let you do that part because she doesn’t listen to me.”
He sounded so hopeful, how could I turn him down? But this would be a challenge. “I’m out of town on a little trip today. Can I meet your new cats another day?”
“Sure. I’m off school all week.”
“I’ll call you, Jack. Take care,” I said.
“Bye, Miss Jillian. And thank you.” He hung up.
I looked at Candace. “Did you get the gist of that?”
“You honestly believe that Robin West will allow a cat in her house? I don’t think so,” Candace said.
“At least I can try. Plus, those cats that showed up will need their shots and should be checked for parasites and feline AIDS, like we did the night the professor-oh my gosh.”
“What?” Candace said.
“Ruth Schultz and Robin West don’t live that far apart,” I said. “Ruth had at least one stray that came from the professor’s property that we know about and probably a couple more. What if these two that showed up at Robin and Jack’s place came from the professor’s farm, too?”
“Do you believe some of the cats escaped the evening of the murder and weren’t carried off?” Candace said.
“It’s very possible. And if there are more, Shawn will have his hands full,” I said. “They’ll come his way eventually.”
“And he’s so overloaded now that Allison’s in school, we had to work a night shift,” Candace said. “Not that I minded. It was fun.”
“That seems so long ago now, doesn’t it? I have to volunteer more there,” I said. “He needs the help. I hate to even tell him about the microchip I found on Dame Wiggins this morning because he’ll have to make a trip to my place to scan her.”
“Chief Baca told me that lazy Chester called the station to make sure Shawn scanned the cats left at the house,” Candace said. “ Chester ’s looking for any reason to bust Shawn. Scanning rescued animals is the law.”
“Then we’ll make sure Chester doesn’t get Shawn in trouble,” I said.
We settled into silence. I so loved the South Carolina countryside. Focusing on the budding trees and blooming flowers along the way relieved the stress I feared would return full force once Candace started asking questions at Denman College. Everything about the VanKleet family seemed to be connected to stress with a capital S.
Twenty-two
Denman is a tiny town, and according to what Candace told me, most everyone who lives there is connected to the college. We stopped at the police station first, or should I say the police shack. If I thought Mercy’s police headquarters was ridiculously small, I never could have imagined that police officers in this country would be forced to work out of what was practically one of those backyard storage sheds you can buy at Home Depot. Only one officer was present, Officer Dooley, and he told Candace she was welcome to question anyone she could find who wasn’t out of town.
“Courtesy call,” Candace said as we got back in her squad car. “Don’t want it to get around to any officers in town that I’m stirring up trouble on their turf. Let’s talk to the college president now. Maybe we’ll get new information about the professor from him. His name is Lawrence Johnson, by the way.”
“How will you explain my presence?” I asked.
“Since I’m not about to let you out of my sight, we’re back to Plan A, the one that started this whole thing. You’re a ride-along-taking one of those citizen police-academy courses.” She checked her small campus map and then put the car in gear.
“Me hanging around might make your job more difficult, though. I can wait in the car, or you can drop me at McDonald’s and I’ll get coffee. Every college town has a McDonald’s.”
“Nope. That’s not how this works. We are joined at the hip until this case is solved.”
I sighed. “All I’m saying is that we’re far from Mercy and any danger right now.”
“Ski Mask could have followed us-though I was paying close attention and didn’t pick up any tail. But who knows? Rosemary Bartlett might turn out to be more like Rosemary’s Baby,” she said.
“I give up. You’re the one in uniform, and I must obey,” I said with a laugh.
A few minutes later we drove onto campus, and Denman College turned out to be far different than I’d imagined. The buildings were a blend of very old and very new. We passed the infirmary, which obviously had been someone’s home at one time, but there was also a residence hall that looked modern and was about six stories high.
The administration building turned out to be a beautiful large redbrick structure with white pillars. The landscaping was well tended, with shrubs surrounding steps on both sides that led to the main wide set of steps. We parked in a spot marked RESERVED right next to the president’s parking place.
“Let them try and give a police car a ticket,” Candace said as we got out and headed toward the administration building.
A cement plaque set into the brick next to the huge oak double doors said BUILT: 1910.
“Wow,” I said as we went inside. “This place is a hundred years old, and everything looks like it’s in perfect condition.”
We learned from a posted building map that the administration offices were housed on the third floor. I saw a sign with an arrow pointing right that said MAIN DINING FACILITIES but heard no voices. The place was pretty much deserted.
We walked through what had once been the huge foyer of the building. Couches, chairs and coffee tables made for a nice relaxing place for students to visit. But not a soul was around.
The two elevators beyond this area seemed far more modern than the building. I’d expected old-fashioned cage-like protecting doors to close before the main doors shut, but that didn’t happen.
President Johnson’s office, as another sign told us, was at the far end of the hall to our right. There was no secretary in his reception area. Candace went up to another lacquered and gleaming tall door with a PRESIDENT LAWRENCE JOHNSON plaque prominent, and I hurried to keep up. I had been lagging behind admiring the high ceilings and beautiful arched windows.
She knocked, and a deep voice told us to come in.
President Johnson sat behind his massive desk, a slew of papers in front of him. Two dark wooden armchairs with padded blue silk striped seats and backs sat in front of the desk facing the president.
He stood and nodded. “Deputy Carson.” Then he looked at me. I had left behind the jeans and T-shirt and had chosen a khaki linen skirt and blouse, but as nice as my outfit was, I in no way looked like a cop. His puzzled look was no surprise.
“Jillian Hart,” I said to the man, who had to be Harry Belafonte’s long-lost twin. The guy was gorgeous.
Candace quickly added, “She’s in the Citizen’s Police Academy. And she’s signed confidentiality documents. Ms. Hart’s learning how we do the people’s business in South Carolina.”
He’d been looking skeptical before she said “the people’s business,” but that phrase seemed to have worked, because he said, “Very well. Have a seat, ladies. This is an unpleasant business, something I certainly didn’t think I would have to revisit.”
“We know what happened with Professor VanKleet here at your college. All I’m looking for is corroboration. Let’s get right to it. Why did you fire Professor VanKleet?”
Lawrence Johnson sat back in his leather swivel chair and rested his intertwined fingers on his abdomen. Bet he had a six-pack under that starched white shirt. The man seemed to be in awesome shape, so much so that it
