Day of the Dead Page 17

  When it appeared that Chief Langdon was not going to make further comments, the art professor with the turban asked, “Can you give us some details as to what lead you to that conclusion?”

  “Uh, sure,” Langdon said, shuffling his feet. “The ruling is based on…” His eyes caught sight of someone who had entered the back of the room, and he appeared even more ill at ease. “Uh, it was based on all those things I just mentioned.”

  Marlee looked toward the rear of the room to see what had further stymied the police chief. Five people were standing along the back wall. Marlee recognized three of them as students: Donnie Stacks, Dom Schmidt and Jasper Evans stood side by side watching as the chief spoke. The other two individuals appeared to be students as well, as they were in their early twenties, carried backpacks and were casually dressed in jeans and sweatshirts.

  “But, what about the specifics of who was interviewed and what the evidence revealed? Also, what was the background information on Logan you mentioned?” persisted the turban-clad art prof.

  “Due to privacy concerns for the deceased and the deceased’s family, I cannot go into Dr. LeCroix’s background information. As far as the evidence, it was collected and sent to the state crime lab for testing. The gun was found in a dumpster near the body and could not be traced. I’m not going to get into any more details of the case at this time,” said Langdon as he backed away from the podium and edged toward the door.

  “Was there a suicide note?” shouted Marlee. The chief looked at her but did not walk back toward the podium to answer her. President Ross approached the microphone, again adjusting it to his height. He didn’t answer Marlee’s question either and moved on to further announcements. “I would like to extend MSU’s thoughts and prayers to the family of Dr. Logan LeCroix. Also, a memorial service will be held this Friday at 4:00 p.m. If you would like to speak at the service, please contact Kendra Rolland, as she is organizing it. Thank you for coming today.” With that brief statement, he snapped off the microphone, and the three of them walked out the back exit.

  Jaws were agape in the oversized classroom. People looked incredulously from one person to another, seeking some meaning in what had just been said or unsaid. All at once, the room exploded as everyone began talking to those near them.

  “How can it be suicide?” asked the blond art professor. “We’ve all heard the gun was buried in the dumpster, which was several feet away from Logan’s body. I just don’t buy that someone could shoot himself, hide the gun, walk away and then drop to the ground and die.” The other professors around him were shaking their heads in disbelief.

  “Why wasn’t this meeting announced through campus email?” asked Marlee. “And why aren’t the local TV station or the newspaper here covering it?”

  “It seems like the chief and MSU wanted as little notoriety at this point as possible,” said the turbaned art professor. Marlee and the blond prof nodded agreement.

  “Seems to me like both offices just want this whole thing swept under the rug and forgotten,” said Marlee, disgusted at and ashamed of both her police department and her university.

  Attendees from the meeting left the room and gathered in small groups outside the meeting room to further discuss the bombshell that was just dropped. Although Marlee had heard from numerous inside sources that the chief would be ruling this matter a suicide, she was still in shock. There were too many questions and no acceptable answers.

  Jasper, Dom, and Donnie found their way over to Marlee and began talking at once. Marlee raised her hand to stop them. “I can’t understand you all when you’re talking at once. Do you guys have class or have to be at work now?” They all shook their heads, indicating that they didn’t. “Good. Let’s get off campus and have some lunch. My treat.” The students’ ears all perked up when they heard the offer of free food. They agreed to meet at the Pizza Ranch in ten minutes.

  Marlee parked her car in the lot at the buffet-style restaurant which offered not only pizza, but also, broasted chicken, potatoes, gravy, vegetables, ice cream and dessert pizza. There were large and small rooms for birthday parties and company meetings, upon request. Marlee was the first to arrive and requested a small room in the back after she paid for their four buffet lunches. The room was separate from the main dining room, away from the buffet stations and out of earshot of the kitchen and bathrooms. She knew that if they closed the door, their conversation would not be overheard. Marlee waited in the back room and peaked out occasionally until she saw the three students walk in the front door. She waved them to the back, and they hurried over.

  After filling their plates, getting their drinks and settling down in the private room, Marlee began to speak. Her plate was heaped with mashed potatoes, gravy and a giant broasted chicken breast. She had already consumed several forkfuls of potatoes and gravy and nearly three cups remained on her plate. The low-carb program was not going well today. “How did you guys all hear about the chief’s announcement today?”

  “Sylvester told me, and I told Dom, who told Jasper,” said Donnie. “Guess he heard about it during the morning shift change meeting at the PD.”

  “Did any of you call me?” asked Marlee, still wondering who placed the anonymous call to her tipping her off about the meeting.

  “We tried your office right before noon, but there was no answer,” said Dom. “But we were relieved to see you when we got there. How did you find out about it?”

  “Somebody called and told me. I have no idea who it was because the caller was whispering and disguising his or her voice,” Marlee reported. “I thought it was really strange. I’m not sure if it was someone from the PD, from MSU or someone else.”

  The three students looked at each other and shrugged, not aware of who may have placed the call. They continued to shovel in the free food and went back for seconds and thirds. Marlee was content with one plate which, in truth, probably held enough food for a small family. During the meal, they all shared the information they knew about the case. Marlee was careful not to disclose any information she promised the source that she would keep confidential. Some information she could share but could not attribute to Bettina Crawford or Sean Yellow Tail for fear of getting them in trouble if it came out that they were the leak in the police department. All of them were outraged at the police department’s conclusion that Logan’s death was a suicide.

  “It just doesn’t make sense,” said Donnie Stacks for about the fifth time.

  “I know. It really doesn’t add up with the evidence. Did Sylvester mention, or even give a hint, that there might be evidence we don’t know about?” Marlee asked Donnie.

  “No, not really. He doesn’t give out a lot of details, just a few tidbits. Next time I see him I’ll see if I can get a bit more information from him,” said Donnie.

  “Why didn’t the chief or President Ross answer your question about a suicide note?” asked Dom.

  “I’m wondering the same thing. It seems it would be a fairly easy question to answer. They wouldn’t have to go into any detail on it, just put it to rest one way or another–was there a note or wasn’t there,” said Marlee.

  “What’s your feeling on it?” asked Jasper.

  “It seems to me that, if they are ruling the death a suicide, they would confirm the presence of a note. It would prop up their theory and investigation and take some pressure off them. My guess is that, since they refused to answer the question, there is no note,” stated Marlee matter-of-factly.

  “Is there some legal reason that they couldn’t confirm or deny it?” asked Jasper. “The chief said they want to protect the privacy of Logan and his family, but how would confirming a note be a breach of privacy any more than a suicide ruling?”

  “Good point, Jasper,” said Marlee. “The only thing I can think of is that maybe MSU or the PD is afraid of a lawsuit by Logan’s family or partner and don’t want to discuss any more details than necessary. One thing I do know is that there’s a lot more information on this case than wha
t is being shared publicly. And, I really don’t think it’s a suicide. If there were a note, then the PD wouldn’t have been interviewing people or have the gun tested. There might not have even been an autopsy.”

  “I don’t believe it either,” said Jasper. “Let’s say he did want to kill himself. Why would he do it on the sidewalk at campus?” They all shook their heads, trying to make sense of the facts before them and attempting to figure out what really happened and why the police and MSU didn’t want everyone to know.

  Marlee did not glean much new information from the students. They all weighed in on Nate Krause, the student from Logan LeCroix’s class who went to his home on more than one occasion. “I don’t think he’s really a bad guy,” said Jasper, “but he’s odd and it makes people scared of him.”

  “Yeah, he doesn’t really have any friends. When he talks to anyone in class, they usually move away from him or make sure not to sit near him in the next class,” reported Donnie. “It’s kind of sad, now that I think of it. I always just thought of him as a nuisance because he took up so much of Dr. L’s time in class, but I guess maybe he was just lonely.” Donnie looked down at the table, reflecting on some of the interactions she and other students had had with Nate this semester. A look of sympathy and regret crossed her face as she contemplated Nate’s isolation and rejection by fellow students. Jasper and Dom nodded their heads in agreement, also realizing that Nate was a person with feelings, and not just someone to be mocked or avoided.

  “Have any of you seen Nate be violent or out of control?” Marlee asked. The three students shook their heads that they hadn’t.

  “He was just odd and kind of a pest, but I never saw him threaten or hit anyone. I never felt like he was dangerous,” said Jasper.

  “Well, I actually remember hearing that he beat somebody up last year. I think it might have been self-defense, though,” said Dom. “I don’t know anything other than that about it. I don’t even remember who told me.”

  The group agreed to keep in touch and alert each other to any further happenings in the case. Donnie said, “I don’t mean to be rude or tacky, but it’s kind of fun for all of us to get together and discuss the case. I wish it weren’t someone we knew. I wish no one was shot on campus, but it does help to talk it out. Plus, I’m learning a lot more about how the criminal justice system really works.” Dom and Jasper nodded with enthusiasm.

  “Well, there’s no reason we can’t get together periodically to discuss this case or just matters that generally pertain to criminal justice. I could see about starting up our Criminal Justice Club again. We used to have one, but then membership dwindled and the faculty advisor for the club resigned and no one else took over. This was all before I got here in 2002,” said Marlee.

  “Yeah, that would be great!” exclaimed Jasper. “I know a lot of students who would be interested in it.”

  “Great. I’ll do some checking around to see what needs to be done to get it going.” On one hand, Marlee was just as excited as the students were to have a forum in which to discuss criminal justice matters that were happening locally or nationally. As an officially recognized club at MSU, they would be able to receive funding, which would provide for food and drinks at their meetings and, most importantly, for travel funds so that some students could go to local, regional and national conferences. On the other hand, she knew that there would be some level of university involvement which would limit their autonomy. Any time a group went from an informal to a formal status at the university, a number of limitations and responsibilities were placed on the group. She would have to fill out reports, attend meetings, put in requests for funds and justify what the club was doing with said money. Marlee would need to figure out if the benefits of reviving the Criminal Justice Club at MSU would outweigh the cost of the restrictions they were sure to face. As good of an idea as the Criminal Justice Club was, the dean would have to be involved in the implementation of the group. His participation and input were things Marlee could do without.

  You’ll never know unless you ask…

  Chapter 20

  After lunch with her students, Marlee returned to her office. She had cancelled her office hours for the day but decided to return to do some class prep for the remainder of the week. She was bloated and groggy due to the vast amount of potatoes and gravy she’d consumed at Pizza Ranch. She wasn’t at her most alert in the afternoon anyway, and piling on the carbs only increased her desire for a long nap. As she sat in front of her computer, struggling to find the words to reply to an email request from a colleague, there was a sharp knock on her partially closed door. “Come in,” Marlee said, as she swiveled her chair away from her computer and toward the door so she could see who wanted to speak to her.

  Stella DeVry, a professor of chemistry, stood in the doorway. “Hey, Marlee. I’ve got some really exciting news!” Stella was in her late fifties, was athletic and had a high level of energy. She was a senior professor and had taught at MSU for over twenty years. Stella was well liked by her students and was rigorous in her expectations of them. She mentored many of the students who would go on to medical school. Stella could, however, be a bit hyper. She frequently sounded off in faculty meetings about things that were not always the main topic, earning her the dreaded label of “flake” from some of the other faculty members, mainly the male faculty members who were at the same level. Marlee thought Stella was very intelligent in matters related to her field but was a bit out of touch with reality when it came to most other topics. Of course, this was an accurate blanket statement of most of the professors at MSU, and of professors in general.

  “What’s got you so excited?” asked Marlee. Coming from the previous careers of probation officer, social worker and federal investigator, Marlee tended to have a somewhat skewed idea of what constituted excitement. In her past careers, excitement usually dealt with the more horrific aspects of life, such as murder, rape and assault. In the academic world, exciting news could be applied to something as mundane as getting a new office chair. Marlee didn’t feel the need to brace herself for Stella’s news.

  “Well,” she said, pausing for effect, “I have lined up a speaker to come into my Criminalistics class tomorrow and I was wondering if you’d like to attend.”

  “Who is it?” asked Marlee. Stella had a flair for the dramatic, so the speaker was probably just someone from the local hospital coming in to discuss laboratory hygiene or something equally fascinating.

  “It’s Bill Langdon! The Chief of Police! He’s going to talk a bit about the Logan LeCroix death investigation,” exclaimed Stella, proud for achieving such a coup.

  “What?” shouted Marlee. “He’s coming to your class?”

  “He sure is,” Stella said, with a wide grin. “I just called him up and asked if he would be willing to come to my Criminalistics class to discuss some of the details of the LeCroix investigation.”

  “And he agreed to it?” Marlee asked, incredulously. What was up with this guy? she thought. On one hand, he seemed very uncomfortable making public statements about Logan’s death, but when professors called him up to discuss the case, he was a regular Chatty Cathy.

  Stella nodded. “He has some stipulations. First, the only people that can be there are you, me and the ten students in the class. He didn’t want anyone from administration or the press there. We can’t invite other students to attend either. Second, what we discuss in that room has to stay in that room. Chief Langdon doesn’t want any information he gives us to leak out. Third, he won’t be able to answer some questions for us for various reasons, like privacy.”

  “Why is he willing to do this?” Marlee inquired. She couldn’t believe he was going to open up and share additional information with the class, information which was not made public.

  “He is doing it to educate the students on the testing of crime scene evidence,” Stella replied, moving from foot to foot in excitement.

  “Do you think he’ll tell us something that hasn’t been rel
eased to the public?” asked Marlee. She seriously doubted he would do so, but then remembered how he opened up to Asshat when they had spoken about the death investigation the previous week.

  “I hope so,” said Stella. “There still seem to be a lot of unanswered questions.”

  Marlee nodded in agreement. “Can we ask whatever we want, or are there areas he has already limited us to?”

  “He didn’t put any limitations on the discussion when I talked to him, but he might before he starts his talk tomorrow. I guess we’ll just have to play it by ear,” said Stella.

  “Well, you can definitely count me in for this!” said Marlee, anxious for the chief’s presentation and wondering if she would be able to wait until tomorrow. She was already going over the questions in her head that she intended to ask.

  After Stella left, Marlee could no longer concentrate on anything related to her classes. She decided to go home and make a list of the questions she would ask Chief Langdon tomorrow. Marlee knew he would have some pat answers that did not reveal anything, so she intended to catch him off guard with a few inquiries. He was trained in interviewing, but Marlee had a good interviewing skill-set herself, thanks to over ten years of previous experience in the criminal justice field. She was used to getting information out of people who had a vested interest in keeping secrets.

  Before going home for the day, Marlee decided to go to Logan’s apartment building. His apartment would probably still be sealed, but she wanted to be able to visualize where Logan lived during his short time in Elmwood. During the course of her own questioning, she learned that he lived in the Newsome Apartments, located near the mall on the east side of town. She didn’t know what floor he lived on but figured it would be easy enough to find out.

  Arriving at the apartment building, she parked along the street, since the sign behind the building threatened that those not living there would have their cars towed if they parked in the lot. She eased out of her vehicle, watching for traffic. Last year a man was killed in town when a car clipped him as he was exiting his vehicle on a side street. This town was small, but there were a lot of bad drivers of all ages, evidenced by the long court column in the newspaper dealing with traffic offenses. The young drivers put the blame on the large elderly driving population, while the older folks held the young whipper-snappers accountable for the numerous infractions and accidents around Elmwood. The middle-aged contingent was noticeably quiet on the debate, probably because they had children in the youth group and parents in the elderly group. Regardless of your age or belief in who was causing the accidents around town, everyone had to look out for themselves.