Shakespeare Under Cover Read online

  “Who says I would want to stop him?” Brandy grinned wickedly.

  “May I have a copy of that video?” Regan asked.

  “What will you do with it?”

  “I intend to take it to the university security chief and file an official complaint.”

  “Look, Professor, I don’t want to get involved in anything with campus security.” Brandy shrugged. “They wouldn’t do anything anyway. They never take any action. They will question Coach Tucker and take his word against yours. Tucker is a winning football coach. He took the team all the way last year. They won’t even reprimand him. He’s raped a dozen girls, and nothing ever comes of it.

  “You’re a visiting professor. They will just pacify you and then tell you not to return when the semester is over.”

  “So we just let him get away with drugging me?” Regan whispered.

  Brandy nodded. “No harm, no alarm. You’re fine.”

  “What did Joey say when you left the party?” Regan asked, having difficulty accepting the girl’s lackadaisical attitude.

  “Nothing,” Brandy said. “Loraine Munoz was too busy getting into his pants.”

  “What the . . . ?” Regan muttered as Brandy followed her gaze to the TV screen in the Starbucks. A photo of Coach Tucker filled the screen. The streamer running beneath the photo said, “Head Coach found dead early this morning.”

  The two women moved closer to the TV so they could hear what the newscaster was saying.

  Regan gasped. “He was stabbed to death! Someone murdered him.”

  “Must have roofied the wrong woman,” Brandy said. “He got what he deserved. He was a pig.”

  Regan cringed at the venom in Brandy’s voice and the anger in her eyes.

  ##

  Half of her students used Coach Tucker’s death as an excuse to skip class on Monday. Regan carefully noted each one who was not in attendance. No one skipped her class without suffering the consequences.

  She could see Joey and Brandy in the hall outside her room. Joey had his hands in Brandy’s hip pockets, pulling the girl against him. He was whispering in her ear. She slapped him and charged into the lecture hall.

  Joey rubbed his cheek as if he couldn’t believe a girl had just hit him. He smiled salaciously and followed Brandy into the room. Brandy sat down between the two geeks. Joey leaned over to one of them and said a few words. The man picked up his books and moved. Joey sat down by his girlfriend.

  Regan watched as Joey sketched something on his notepad. He folded the sheet and grinned as he slid the note to Brandy.

  Brandy glared at her boyfriend before opening it.

  “Miss Brandywine,” Regan said authoritatively, “come here, please.”

  Still holding the note, Brandy walked to the professor’s desk. Regan pulled the note from the girl’s hand and opened it. She blushed slightly as she saw that Joey had drawn two stick figures copulating. He had written, “You and me, Babe,” beneath the drawing.

  Regan placed the note in her desk drawer. “Please return to your seat.

  “Mr. Sloan,” Regan said, “would you please give us a brief synopsis of A Midsummer Night’s Dream?”

  To Regan’s surprise, Joey gave an in-depth summary of the play. He’s obviously smarter than he seems, she thought. She cringed as Brandy ran her hand down his thigh and whispered something in his ear. He grinned like a fool.

  Chapter 2

  Regan slipped into a chair at the back of the lecture hall. The school chancellor had called a meeting of all instructors and administrators. The topic of conversation was Coach Danny Tucker.

  “As you all know,” Chancellor Katherine O’Brien said, “Coach Tucker was murdered last night after a frat party at the Delta Tau Delta house. Although he coaches here, he lived in Oklahoma. Since the investigation crosses state lines, I have asked the FBI to handle this case.

  “This is FBI agent Peyton King.” O’Brien made a sweeping gesture toward a gorgeous strawberry blonde with brilliant blue eyes. “Agent King will be questioning each of you. Please give her your fullest cooperation. Even if you didn’t know Coach Tucker personally, simply answer Agent King’s questions.”

  Peyton King walked to the podium and flashed a smile that would overshadow a spotlight. At five-ten she was intimidating and a ten on the gorgeous woman scale. “I want to make this as painless as possible,” she said.

  “This morning I will interview those of you whose names begin with A through L. M through W, why don’t you come back after lunch.” Peyton’s mesmerizing voice floated from the speakers. “There’s no need for you to waste time sitting around here all morning.”

  Brandy was waiting in the hallway when Regan emerged from the lecture hall. “What did they say?” she demanded.

  “Nothing really,” Regan said. “Everyone will be questioned in alphabetical order. I must return after lunch.”

  “Want to have lunch with me?” The gregarious blonde flashed her brilliant smile.

  “I have things to do.” Regan shrugged.

  “I heard the killers cut off his penis,” Brandy whispered.

  “Seriously?” Regan gasped. “Where do you want to have lunch? Not the SUB!”

  “I know just the place.” Brandy led the way. “We can take my car.”

  ##

  Regan was not surprised to find that Brandy drove a BMW. She parked in front of a hole-in-the-wall diner and jumped out of her car to open Regan’s door.

  Everyone greeted Brandy as they entered the restaurant, and they took a seat in the back of the diner.

  “Did you get a good look at the FBI agent?” Brandy squealed.

  “You mean Agent King?”

  “Yes, FBI Agent fricking gorgeous Peyton King. She worked that murder case a couple years ago,” Brandy wiggled her eyebrows. “She’s something! I bet she’s great in bed.”

  “Miss Brandywine, I don’t really care to indulge in this kind of conversation with you.” Regan started to stand, but Brandy caught her hand.

  “I’m sorry, Professor.” Brandy smiled. “I didn’t mean to be offensive.”

  “I’m afraid I find your uninhibited attitude about sex a little shocking.”

  “Really?” Brandy grinned seductively. “Then I suppose you would be doubly shocked to know I find you incredibly hot. Even hotter than FBI Agent King.”

  A pink blush started from the center of Regan’s chest and spread up her neck to color her face. She was lost for words and distraught that a student would speak to her in such a manner.

  “You may take me back to the university now,” she said in her haughtiest tone.

  Brandy laughed out loud. “Don’t be such a prude. I’m just jerking your chain.” She waved to the waitress. “We’re ready to order.

  “I suppose you’re upset over the death of Coach Tucker,” Brandy continued. “We all are.”

  Regan raked her teeth over her bottom lip. “I didn’t know him that well.” She sighed. “He certainly wasn’t the man I thought he was.”

  “They will probably question you pretty extensively,” Brandy said, “since you were his date the night he was murdered.”

  Regan’s mouth moved, but no sound came out. She hadn’t thought about that.

  “It’s a good thing you were with me all night,” Brandy said, her eyes twinkling.

  “I wasn’t exactly with you.”

  “You spent the night in my bed,” Brandy said, clearly enjoying her professor’s embarrassment.

  Regan’s brown eyes locked with Brandy’s green ones. “I’m sure there are worse things that could happen to me.”

  It was Brandy’s turn to blush. She couldn’t stop the warm feeling that spread over her body.

  The blonde cleared her throat. “You know I’ll verify that you spent the night in my dorm. You have a solid alibi,” she said seriously. “I think we should show Agent King the video on my cell phone.”

  Regan smiled slightly. She knew she had won this round with her student. “I believe we h
ave to.”

  “Can you believe Coach was mutilated?” Brandy squealed as she salted her burger.

  “Where did you hear that?”

  “Joey told me,” Brandy replied. “Joey knows everything that goes on around here.”

  “Yes, I’m certain Joey is a trustworthy news source,” Regan huffed.

  “Tell me about your next book,” Brandy said, changing the topic as she took a bite of her burger.

  “Right now I don’t have a next book,” Regan said. “I’m taking a hiatus from the computer.”

  Brandy threw back her shoulders. “I know a thing or two about writers.”

  “Do tell.”

  “I know you always have several books working at one time.” Brandy plunged ahead, undeterred by her professor’s look of disgust. “I know you haven’t released a book in about eighteen months, and the literary world is expecting your next book to be your best.”

  Regan fought back the urge to shake Brandy and tell her she didn’t know squat about the publishing business or writers. She didn’t know how much it hurt when your agent returned the book you had poured your heart and soul into with a note that read, “This would kill your career.”

  “I know you’re filthy rich and don’t need the money,” Brandy said, still chattering. She knew Regan was miles away. “And I know for sure I’d like to go to bed with you.”

  “What? What the hell are you babbling about?” Regan stared at her.

  “About your next book.” Brandy’s innocent look was laughable.

  “The last thing you said.” Regan glared at her.

  “I was just checking to see if you were listening.” Brandy stuffed a French fry into her mouth. “Apparently you were.”

  Chapter 3

  “Professor Regan Shaw,” Peyton King read from the list in her hand. She blushed slightly as her heart skipped a beat when a beautiful brunette stood and walked toward her.

  Calm down, Peyton chided herself. It’s been too long.

  “Thank you, Professor.” Peyton flashed her sweetest smile. “I appreciate you taking the time to speak with me.”

  “Did I have a choice?” Regan raised a perfectly arched brow.

  “No, ma’am, you didn’t. Please have a seat. This shouldn’t take long.”

  Regan sat down and crossed her legs. Her skirt slid up to midthigh. Peyton couldn’t pull her eyes away from the shapely legs. She blushed when her eyes locked with Regan’s.

  Peyton flipped open a file folder marked Regan Shaw and stared at the sheet of paper in it. “You were on a date with Coach Tucker last night?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you quarrel? Have a lover’s spat?”

  “Hardly,” Regan huffed. “It was my one and only date with Coach Tucker. I assure you he was very much alive and falling-down drunk when I left the party.”

  “A fraternity party?”

  “Yes.”

  “You left the party without him?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, you did quarrel,” Peyton insisted.

  “Agent King, please stop putting tongue in my mouth.” Regan scowled then blushed profusely when she realized what she had said. “Words. Please stop putting words in my mouth.”

  Peyton tried to suppress her smile as Professor Shaw struggled to recover from her faux pas.

  “We didn’t have words,” Regan said. “He roofied me, and a student got me out of there.”

  “Drugged you? Coach Tucker drugged you?” Peyton was aghast. None of her prior interviewees had hinted at such activity on the part of the popular football coach.

  “Professor Shaw, did anyone see him drug you?”

  “The student who saved me. She also videoed him doing it.” Regan pulled her cell phone from her purse, queued the video, and handed it to Agent King. “She sent me a copy. I didn’t believe it at first either.”

  Peyton watched the video. It turned her stomach to think that the demure professor could be in an entirely different situation today, if not for her student.

  “May I have a copy of this?”

  “Of course.” Regan reached for her cell phone.

  “I’ll just add my number to your contact list,” Peyton said, smiling. “Is it okay if I send myself the video?”

  Regan nodded.

  “I assume you’ll be around campus if I have any more questions for you.” Peyton bit her bottom lip.

  “I . . . uh, am I a suspect?” Regan asked.

  “No, the question I have in mind is, would you join me for dinner?”

  “I’m not sure I should,” Regan hedged. “I was his last date and all and—”

  “You can say ‘no’ if you wish. Although I’ve worked cases in this area, I’m not very familiar with the dining establishments. I thought you might be able to direct me to some good Chinese or Italian. It’s not like I’m asking you out on a date. Since you were on a date with Coach Tucker, I’m assuming I’m not your type.”

  Regan laughed. “Of course. I’m just a little rattled. It’s not every day one’s date from the night before is found mutilated the next morning.”

  Peyton squinted at her. “How do you know he was mutilated?”

  “I . . . I don’t know. Wasn’t it on the news this morning?”

  “No, that’s one of the things we’re keeping out of the news.” Peyton stood and walked around the room. She returned to stand in front of Regan. “That is something only the killer would have known.”

  Regan was quite aware of who had given her the information. Brandy had tossed it out to entice her to have lunch.

  “Who gave you that information?” Agent King’s flirty demeanor was gone. In its place was a no-nonsense FBI interrogator.

  “One of my students, I think.” Regan didn’t want to implicate Brandy, but King’s chameleon-like change had disoriented her.

  “Which one?”

  “Uh, um, I’m not certain,” Regan sputtered. “I don’t want to give you a wrong name.”

  “Why don’t you give me a name, and I’ll sort out whether or not it’s wrong?”

  “Grace Brandywine,” Regan mumbled.

  “Brandywine? Of course.” Peyton snorted. “I’ve dealt with her before.”

  Chapter 4

  Brandy watched the door of the building Peyton King had confiscated for her headquarters. She knew the FBI agent would be on campus until she caught the killer. King was tenacious. When she went after something, she always got it.

  Brandy shifted her Beemer into drive and eased forward as Professor Shaw walked out of the building and started down the sidewalk. She pulled alongside the professor and rolled down the passenger-side window.

  “Professor Shaw,” Brandy called. “Want a ride?” She leaned over and pushed open the passenger-side door.

  Regan hesitated then sat down in the car.

  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Brandy noted. “Was Agent King that hard on you?”

  “Brandy, I mentioned that Coach Tucker had been mutilated, and she went berserk. She demanded the name of the person who gave me that information.”

  “So, you threw me under the bus?” Brandy quipped. “Is that the reason you’re white as a sheet?”

  “I feel awful. I would never try to get you into trouble.” Regan scowled. “I didn’t tell her Joey told you. I’m certain she will interview you.”

  “I would expect her to interview me,” Brandy said, wrinkling her nose. “I saved you from a fate worse than death. I’m sure she’ll want to know about my relationship with you.”

  “We have no relationship,” Regan scoffed. “I’m your English lit professor, and you’re my student. That’s it.”

  “Yes, that’s all it’ll ever be.” Brandy’s woeful tone made Regan look at her in time to see a sly smile cross her face.

  “Brandy, sometimes you worry me.”

  “That’s good.” Brandy laughed out loud. “Where to for dinner, Professor?”

  ##

  Pat Sawyer pulled the pocket f
ile folder containing complaints filed on Coach Danny Tucker. She debated shredding the incriminating evidence she had gathered during her past ten years as the university police chief. Always acting the part of the southern country gentleman in public, Tucker was a vile human being in private. Now Tucker was dead, and there was no need to publicize her complicity in protecting the sexual predator.

  Almost like clockwork, Pat received at least one, and sometimes two, complaints every month from coeds claiming that Tucker had raped them. Over 150 complaints had been filed against the winning coach. Some of the complaints had been so severe that Pat had instructed the victims to file a report with the Austin Police Department. Of course, the overworked APD had filled out a report and then informed the women they had to deal with the campus police force.

  Pat was ashamed to admit that she had been forced to look the other way to keep her high-paying job as the police chief at the university. With over 500 commissioned police officers serving under her command, the UT System police department was the third-largest statewide police force in Texas, behind the Department of Public Safety and Texas Parks and Wildlife.

  Tucker’s death would allow her to wash her hands of the whole sordid mess and start over. She would never again compromise her ethics or standards. She tried not to think of what had led her down the dark, dismal road she had taken.

  Heads would roll—including her own—if Tucker’s file ever fell into the wrong hands. FBI Agent Peyton King would nail her to the wall if she ever found out the extent of her involvement.

  A loud knock on her office door interrupted her debate, and she slid the file folder into the bottom drawer of her desk.

  The door swung open, and Peyton King—in all her glory—charged into Pat’s office.

  “Come in, Agent King.” Pat smirked. “How can I help you?”

  “I need to see your file on Danny Tucker.” King never wasted time on niceties.

  Pat eyed King as one would a wild animal about to pounce. “What makes you think I have a file on Coach Tucker?” Pat watched King’s eyes to see if she was just guessing or had hard evidence.

  “I already have a search warrant.” Peyton’s twisted smile told Pat she was in trouble. She decided to call the agent’s bluff.