Shakespeare Under Cover Read online
Page 3
“Go ahead and serve it. We’ve no secrets to hide. You’ll find nothing, so I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your suspicions to yourself until you find something to justify them. May I see your search warrant?” Pat held out her hand.
“It’s on its way,” Peyton said.
“Then you won’t mind waiting in the lobby until it gets here?” Pat stood and walked toward the door. “I’m trying to solve a murder case.”
“You’re off the case,” Peyton barked. “It’s my case now, and I don’t have anyone’s ass to protect or kiss.”
Pat’s eyes flashed. “Are you insinuating that I would look the other way when a crime is committed on campus?”
“It’s been known to happen,” Peyton said. “That’s why universities shouldn’t police themselves.”
Pat shifted uneasily from one foot to the other and then opened the door for Agent King to leave her office.
King was as tenacious as a pit bull. She had arrived on campus two years ago when newly elected chancellor Katherine O’Brien had requested the FBI investigate the disappearance of four coeds. King had moved swiftly, calling in all the personnel at her disposal, and located the women in the boxcar of a train headed for Mexico.
Both O’Brien and King had been heralded for their quick action, while Pat had spent the following months wiping egg off her face for failing to take the disappearance of the four women seriously.
Pat’s intercom buzzed. “Chief, Chancellor O’Brien is on the phone.”
Pat groaned as she mentally prepared to deal with the Irish spitfire waiting on her line. She decided to let O’Brien take the lead. “Chief Sawyer.”
“Good morning, Chief. Please fill me in on your investigation of Coach Tucker’s death.”
Katherine O’Brien never wasted words on cordiality when her university was under attack.
“The case is out of my hands, Chancellor. The FBI are confiscating my files as we speak.”
“Cooperate with them,” O’Brien ordered. “Don’t make them get a search warrant. That will make it look like we have something to hide, and we do not. Do we?”
Pat gulped. “No, ma’am. We’ve nothing to hide.”
“Good. That’s what I wanted to hear.”
When O’Brien ended the call, Pat leaned her head back against her chair and closed her eyes. She knew it was going to hit the fan when Peyton King found Tucker’s file.
She looked around her office for a place to hide the incriminating files but decided King would find it no matter where she hid it. That would make her look worse than ever. She decided to hand the file over to Agent King. She pulled all the complaints from the file except the last four and hid them in another file.
Chief Sawyer opened her office door and stepped into the waiting room.
“We don’t have our warrant yet,” Agent King said, looking up from whatever she was typing into her cell phone.
“You don’t need one.” Pat tried to look amiable. “Chancellor O’Brien said to give you Coach Tucker’s file.” She held out the thin file.
“Is this all there is?” Peyton asked.
“Yes.”
##
“FBI Agent Peyton King to see Chancellor O’Brien.”
“Do you have an appointment?” the prissy secretary said.
“Seriously?” Peyton growled. “What part of FBI Agent did you not understand?”
The secretary jumped to her feet and led the way to the chancellor’s office. “FBI Agent Peyton King to see you, ma’am.”
Katherine O’Brien drew herself to her full height of five-seven and walked around her desk to greet Peyton. “Agent King. How may I help you?”
“I wanted to thank you for the phone call that resulted in this.” Peyton handed Danny Tucker’s file to the auburn-haired beauty.
Katherine motioned for Peyton to sit as she returned to the chair behind her desk. “It’s very light. I was afraid there would be more.”
“Four complaints,” Peyton said. “It doesn’t exactly jibe with this file from the Austin police.” Peyton placed a file that was over two inches thick on Katherine’s desk.
“She’s withholding evidence,” Katherine said.
Peyton shrugged. “We’ll find it. My people are going through her office with a fine-tooth comb.”
“May I see what you find before you release any information?” Katherine asked. “I have a feeling this is going to be bad.”
“Sure,” Peyton said as a smile cut across her face, “if you’ll have dinner with me while I wait for my folks to finish. I have a video you need to see. I don’t want you to be blindsided.”
“That sounds like a fair trade,” Katherine said. “Some place outside of town.”
“I know just the place.” Peyton opened the door and let her hand rest on the chancellor’s lower back as she ushered her out of the office.
##
Harvard-educated Katherine O’Brien was the epitome of success. The University of Texas’s first woman chancellor/president and the first Irish immigrant to head a comprehensive research university in the United States, her track record was incomparable.
The offices of chancellor and president had always been held by two different people, but Katherine had insisted she hold both positions to avoid the constant infighting that went on at the highest levels of academia.
Under Katherine’s leadership, the Texas Advanced Computing Center had launched Stampede, one of the largest computing systems in the world for open science research, which had led to mind-boggling discoveries in DNA by compiling input from genetic scientists all over the world, allowing them to consult and work together on their theories. The computer system saved universities worldwide from wasting valuable research funds duplicating work already finished by other scientists.
Katherine’s most lauded accomplishment recently was landing the National Science Foundation grant to establish an Engineering Research Center (ERC) for research into nanomanufacturing, the first ERC designated at UT Austin and only the second in Texas.
At forty-five, Katherine O’Brien was exactly where she wanted to be, but she knew things weren’t as they seemed. She was aware that beneath her firm foundation, something was wrong. Something was always causing a ripple that never quite reached her. The Texas good-old-boy confederate always seemed to close ranks, preventing her from getting a clear view of seething problems. She feared that Coach Danny Tucker’s death was only the tip of the iceberg.
Chapter 5
Regan downed her last bit of coffee and got out of her car. She had spent a restless night thinking about Danny Tucker and Brandy’s insinuations that he had raped several coeds over the years. She debated on whether she should tell Agent King.
A movement in a shadowy alcove caught her attention. Joey Sloan had someone pinned against the wall and was running his hands up and down her sides. The girl wasn’t trying to fight him off. God, don’t let it be Brandy.
She started to call out Joey’s name but decided she didn’t really want to know who he was crawling all over. She hurried to her classroom.
As she slipped her transparency into the overhead projector, Brandy and Joey entered the room. They were arguing loudly.
“You promised you’d go home with me this weekend,” Joey whined. “My folks are dying to meet you.”
“It’s too early to meet the parents,” Brandy argued. “You know how parents get all excited when they think their offspring has landed a real catch.”
“You are a real catch.” Joey grinned as he placed his hands on her hips. “You’re the only girl I want to catch.”
“I bet you said that same thing to Loraine Munoz while you were banging her last night,” Brandy huffed.
“I did not. Babe, you know you’re the only girl I love.”
“I’ll think about it,” Brandy promised, “but we sleep in separate rooms. And no sneaking into my room after your parents go to bed.”
The bell rang, and they continued to argue.
/> “Miss Brandywine, Mr. Sloan, would it be possible for you to find a seat and let me teach my class? Or I can just give you both a zero for today.”
Brandy shot Joey a disgusted look and took a chair on the front row.
Regan waited while her class settled down. “I know that there is a lot of speculation about Coach Tucker’s death.”
A murmur ran through the room.
“I’m going to give you Wednesday off to finish reading A Midsummer Night’s Dream. I’ll post your study guide tonight, so you will know what to expect on Friday’s test.”
Joey held up his hand. “Professor, do you grade on the bell curve?”
“Yes.”
“What if we have a failing grade but all of our other grades are good? Will you allow us to throw out one grade every report period?”
“Yes,” Regan replied. “Any other questions? If not, class is dismissed.”
Regan wanted to avoid the SUB, so she walked across campus to the nearest kolache shop. She was surprised to see Brandy sitting alone in a booth, reading a textbook.
Brandy looked up and smiled as Regan entered. She motioned for Regan to join her. Regan stopped at the counter and ordered coffee and a kolache before walking over to the booth.
“I don’t want to bother you,” Regan said. “Obviously, you’re studying.”
“Spanish.” Brandy shrugged. “I was just brushing up. I heard the professor is going to give us a pop quiz this afternoon and a test on Friday. She’s not as nice as you.”
“She probably wants to see the level of her students, so she will know where to start teaching.”
“Duh, Professor, it’s beginner’s Spanish 101. You can’t get much lower than that.”
Regan was fluent in Spanish, but Brandy didn’t need to know that.
“So, join me?” Brandy gestured toward the seat across from her, and Regan sat down.
“Has Agent King questioned you yet?” Regan asked as the server placed her order on the table.
“After lunch she’s going to start interviewing students who had contact with Tucker. Joey is at the top of her list. He’s captain of the football team.”
“Does he know anything?” Regan couldn’t hide her curiosity.
“Help me study for my Spanish test Friday, and I’ll tell you.” Brandy’s impish grin made Regan’s heart skip a beat. She couldn’t pull her gaze away from her student’s beautiful face.
“Okay,” Regan mumbled.
“What time?” Brandy beamed.
“What time for what?” Regan furrowed her brow in confusion.
“What time should I come to your place, so you can help me study?” Brandy looked up at her through long lashes and smiled.
“I meant right now . . . right here.”
“No can do.” Brandy stuffed her Spanish book into her backpack and stood. “I have to get to class. See you tonight. Six at your place.”
“You don’t know my address,” Regan replied.
“Yes, I do.” Brandy waggled her eyebrows. “You can cook dinner for me, if you’d like.”
Regan watched the girl as she sprinted out the door. Oh God. What have I gotten myself into? The last thing I need is Grace Brandywine in my home.
##
“Joey Sloan, is that correct?” Peyton King watched the cocky young man sprawled out in the chair in front of her desk. Joey Sloan certainly overpowered the room. “You’re dating or going steady with Grace Brandywine?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Joey grinned, his blue eyes twinkling.
“Did you see Coach Tucker Friday night?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Do you know what time he left your fraternity party?”
“No, ma’am.” Joey hung his head and blushed slightly.
“What time did you last see him at your party?”
“A little after midnight. He was falling-down drunk and groping the girls.”
“Do you know the names of the girls he groped?” Peyton had a feeling there was a brain beneath Joey’s mop of unruly blond hair.
“No, ma’am. It all sorta runs together in my mind.”
“Your date was Grace Brandywine, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Did you leave the party around midnight?”
“No, ma’am.”
“If you were at the party, why didn’t you see Coach Tucker leave?”
Joey’s blush deepened. “I was upstairs with someone.”
Ah, I think I’ve just caught Brandy and Professor Shaw in a lie, Peyton thought.
“Who were you with upstairs, Joey?”
“I’d rather not say.” Joey ducked his head lower.
“I’d rather you did.” Peyton’s stern voice was flat. “We’re you with Brandy?”
“Oh, no, ma’am. Brandy left early. She took Professor Shaw to her dorm. I later found out that Tucker had put drugs in the professor’s wine.”
“So, who was with you, Joey? Who can provide you an alibi for the time of Coach Tucker’s murder?”
Joey locked gazes with Peyton. “Surely you don’t think I killed Coach Tucker?”
“If you don’t have an alibi, I’m going to assume—”
“Loraine Munoz,” Joey blurted. “Please don’t tell Brandy. She’ll kill me.”
Peyton shoved her notepad in front of Joey and handed him a pen. “Please write Miss Munoz’s phone number on here. I’ll need to call her to verify your alibi.
“Joey, who told you Coach Tucker was mutilated?”
“I really can’t say, ma’am. Everyone was talking about it in the frat house when I came downstairs that morning.”
“Did Miss Munoz come down with you?” Peyton asked.
“Yes, ma’am. We spent the night together. Please don’t tell Brandy.”
##
Regan had stopped by the supermarket on her way home. She had decided on spaghetti and meat sauce with French bread and salad. It was her go-to meal in a pinch, and her meat sauce was to die for, even if she did say so herself.
Her home was immaculate, and wine was already chilling in the refrigerator. She put on her sauce to simmer while she took a shower. Everything was ready when Brandy rang the doorbell.
Regan wiped her palms on her apron. She was surprised at her excitement. The thought of spending the evening with Brandy was appealing to her. She opened the door.
Regan couldn’t hide her smile. It was obvious that Brandy had taken extra care to look her best for their dinner. This is beginning to feel like a date, Regan thought.
“Wow! You’re so hot.” Brandy scanned her professor from the top of her head to the tips of her painted toenails. “I love the way those jeans hug your hips, and that sweater accentuates all your gorgeous curves.” Brandy ran the tip of her tongue along her lips, trying to moisten them.
Regan stared at the brazen young woman without moving. This is a bad idea, she thought.
“I brought wine.” Brandy moved into the foyer and closed the door behind her. “I pegged you as a red wine drinker. Of course, it might not go with what you’ve prepared for dinner.”
Regan looked at the bottle of Bordeaux. “This is a Chateau Lafite Rothschild Pauillac. You shouldn’t be spending this kind of money for wine.”
“I didn’t.” Brandy giggled. “I took it from my dad’s wine cellar.”
Regan cocked an eyebrow. “Why does that not surprise me?”
“So, will it go with our dinner?” Brandy’s smile was infectious.
“Yes, it’s perfect. Give me your jacket. I’ll hang it up.”
Brandy followed Regan into the kitchen. “If you’ll give me a corkscrew, I’ll open the wine and let it breathe while we get dinner on the table.”
“Top drawer on your left,” Regan directed as she stirred the spaghetti sauce.
“Oh my God!” Brandy sniffed the air. “That smells like heaven. How can you be so damn gorgeous and cook too?”
“Brandy, I don’t think—”
“Sorry, Profes
sor. I was way out of line. It won’t happen again. I didn’t mean anything by it. I just have a knack for saying what I’m thinking. If it’s in my mind it comes out my mouth.
“Are we going to study Shakespeare the entire semester?” Brandy teased as she poured their wine.
“It is a course on Shakespeare,” Regan reminded her. “Or I could give you a break and have the class do a report on The Purloined Letter.”
“No! No! Shakespeare is just fine. Don’t give us Poe.” Brandy groaned as if mortally wounded.
“You don’t like Poe?”
“Some of his stuff is great. I mean, the story lines. Like The Pit and the Pendulum, The Tell-Tale Heart, and The Masque of the Red Death. Oh, and you must love The Cask of Amontillado. But The Purloined Letter is a trip to boredomville.”
“Boredomville isn’t even a word, Brandy.”
“If Shakespeare could make up his own words, so can I,” Brandy jested. “Honestly, Professor, if Poe submitted his writings to a publishing house today, they’d rubber stamp ‘Rejected’ on all of them.”
Regan frowned. “I suppose you like The Fall of the House of Usher too?”
“It was interesting,” Brandy said.
“Do you know what I find interesting?” Regan held out her glass for more wine. “That you’re drawn to the ones where the main characters were obviously demented.”
“So, what does that say about me?” Brandy made an evil face. “I could be a serial killer?”
“I doubt it.” Regan chuckled. “You’re way too pretty to . . .” She stopped as she realized she was flirting with Brandy.
“You think I’m pretty?” Brandy’s eyes twinkled. “Are you attracted to me?”
“You’re too pretty to be in your professor’s home flirting with her.” Regan shook her head. “Let’s get this over with.”
Regan stood and walked to the living room. “Where’s your Spanish book? Do you have a study sheet?”
“I should go,” Brandy said, heading toward the door. “Thank you for the best meal I’ve had in a long time and the most stimulating conversation I’ve ever had.” She leaned down and kissed Regan on the cheek. “Good night, Professor.”
##
The next day, Brandy tossed a thick envelope onto Peyton’s desk.