Textbook Murder Read online

  Textbook Murder

  A Spencer University Murder

  Laina Turner

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  Happy Reading!

  Laina

  Copyright © 2019 by Laina Turner

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  About the Author

  Thanks for Reading

  Also by Laina Turner

  Chapter 1

  “You’re really leaving us?” asked John Richmond, one of the partners at the law firm Chloe managed, with a sad look on his face.

  “I’m afraid so,” she said, sad as well. She had enjoyed working there, and change was scary.

  “You know the firm is going to fall apart with you gone, don’t you?” he said, and she knew he was only half kidding. Chloe knew her value to them was, well, invaluable. The partners had told her many times what an asset she was, and she knew her worth.

  “It’s only a year. When I come back, if you still need me, you never know what might happen.”

  “I hope you know, if you need anything, anything at all, you can call me or Steve or Chris, and we will make sure you are taken care of.”

  Chloe smiled. “I know, John. And I appreciate it greatly.” She did appreciate it. It was why she had stayed with the firm for so long as the manager and not a lawyer. The partners were a good group of guys, and she enjoyed working for them.

  She had started as a lawyer with them fresh out of law school, and when she realized she didn’t like the actual practice of law, she talked them into creating the office manager position. They hadn’t had one at the time, and the office was in chaos. The partners were great lawyers but horrible organizers. She’d made their practice much more efficient, and it was a win-win. She was able to stay in the field, but without having to actually practice. The only person not happy with the arrangement was her mother, former trial attorney, now esteemed judge. Pleasing her mother was an impossible task anyway, and she’d given up long ago. Okay, maybe not completely, but she didn’t worry about it as much as she used to.

  Chloe had become disillusioned with the actual practice of law. She had realized trial law hadn’t ever been her passion. Instead, it had been a family legacy and a theoretical interest in the complexities of the law that had dictated her career path. However, she had found her passion in the teaching of law, not the actual act of being a lawyer, which was what was motivating her move to Spencer, Ohio. The tired cliché “Those who can, do; those who can’t, teach,” was coming true in her case.

  She’d been working as part-time faculty in a law school in Chicago for the last couple years but had been offered a one-year full-time professorship in Spencer to cover for someone on leave. She’d interviewed for the position on a whim, never imagining she’d get it. Now that she had, she hoped having that full-time year under her belt would help her land a full-time position somewhere else. It was the proverbial catch-22. You couldn’t get a job without experience, and you couldn’t get experience without a job. Anyways, she hoped this was her ticket to that goal, or at least getting her closer to her dream of a permanent full-time teaching position.

  This position at the Spencer Law School had come at the perfect time. Not only was it a great opportunity but getting out of Chicago was going to be a good thing.

  She had been to Spencer a few times, had enjoyed the city, and was looking forward to exploring it further. It would be a fresh start.

  “I have another meeting to run to. You know how it is around here,” John said, making a move to get up. “Just know that we’ll miss you. No one can run this place like you can.”

  “Thanks, John. It means a lot.”

  Walking out of the place she had worked at for many years, for what would be the last time for at least a year was both thrilling and scary. Never a huge risk-taker, Chloe felt ready for this change and all the new things it might bring.

  Chapter 2

  Chloe lugged the last box into her kitchen. She hadn’t moved in so long, she’d forgotten how much the unpacking sucked. She’d been in her Chicago apartment for ten years, and had accumulated a lot of crap. As she started opening boxes and looking at their contents, she wondered why she had packed half this stuff to begin with. When was the last time she used a double boiler? That would be never. It had been a hand-me-down from her grandmother when Grandma had moved into assisted living and told her all the wonderful things she could use it for. None of which she ever did, or could even remember at this point.

  Sighing, Chloe put the pan in the very back of the bottom cupboard, where it was sure to sit until the next time she moved. Even though she knew she didn’t need it, she also didn’t have the heart to throw it away. She wished she had just put most of this stuff in storage and only brought a futon and used paper plates and plastic forks like she had in her college days. She smiled, as she could hear her mom now, lecturing about how that was no way to live, college student or not. Her mom had certain ideas of how things should be, and they were much different from Chloe’s.

  She looked at her watch and noticed she only had an hour before she was supposed to meet with Bill Peterson, the person she was replacing for the next year. He was going to give her the rundown of his classes and show her around. She tingled with nervous excitement, almost like it was her first day of class. Oh, gee, unpacking will have to wait, she thought, not disappointed in the slightest.

  Forty-five minutes later, she easily found the main building where the law school offices were, since she recognized the area from her interview trip. She smoothed down the front of her light blue linen suit, a futile effort, since linen just wrinkled when you looked at it. Why it seemed to be the only fabric summer suits were made of she didn’t understand. It looked beautiful on the rack but didn’t wear well. She opened the door to the inner offices and walked up to the reception desk, which was empty. The whole place seemed empty and quiet. The school was on break between spring and summer term, though, so that wasn’t unusual.

  Chloe walked down the hall, looking for Room 225, Bill Peterson’s office, soon to be hers. As silly as it was, it was kind of exciting to have her own office. Even at the law firm, she’d never had a place where she could close the door for privacy. Not that she needed privacy, but it was nice to have that option.

  She found room 225, but the door was shut. She assumed Bill was working in there. She knocked tentatively at first, and then, when she didn’t hear anyone moving inside, she knocked harder. Could be he was so engrossed in his work that he hadn’t heard the first time? Had Bill stepped out? Or forgotten they were supposed to meet? Chloe looked at the email she had printed out from the dean to make sure she didn’t have the wrong time, but she didn’t. This was the time and place they were supposed to meet.

  She put her ear to the door and strained to hear any possible movement. She thought she would kn
ock one more time, and if nothing, then she would call and leave him a message. She was sure he was busy wrapping things up to leave, and this meeting may have slipped his mind. This time she knocked so hard on the door, it opened a little. Must not have been latched tightly.

  “Hello?” she called, pushing the door the rest of the way and taking a couple of steps into the room. “Bill? Hello?”

  It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the dimness, and she quickly realized why Bill hadn’t heard her knocking. He was slumped over his desk, head on the blotter, surrounded by a pool of what she was afraid wasn’t ink. Not unless he had taken to writing with a quill pen. Heart pounding, she took a step closer and called his name one more time, all the while knowing he probably wasn’t going to answer. She leaned over to check his pulse and nothing. Backing out of the office, she pulled out her cellphone and dialed 9-1-1.

  “I am at Spencer Law School, and I’m calling to report a dead body.”

  Chapter 3

  “Oh my God. What happened?” Dean Ziegler said in a rush when he reached Chloe. She was standing outside Bill Peterson’s office with Mallory, who had arrived just minutes after Chloe had stepped back out of the room and called 9-1-1. The EMTs and the police were in the room with Bill.

  “I found him slumped over his desk. I’m not sure what happened,” Chloe said, not wanting to be the one to tell her new boss one of his faculty was dead.

  “He wasn’t the most well-liked guy, but I can’t imagine anyone wanting to kill him,” said Mallory.

  “The cops think he was murdered?” Dean Ziegler said, seeming very alarmed.

  “Oh, I-I don’t know,” she stammered. “I guess I just assumed . . . maybe I shouldn’t.”

  That would probably be a good idea, Chloe thought.

  Just then, one of the policemen came out of Bill’s office, followed by a handsome detective with lots of thick, wavy brown hair, who walked over to where Chloe, Mallory, and the dean were standing. “Which one of you found him?” he asked.

  “I did,” Chloe said, looking at the detective’s beautiful brown eyes, which seemed friendly yet curious.

  “I’m Detective Rodriguez. You are?” The detective pulled out a notebook and pen.

  “Chloe Parsons. I found him right before I called 9-1-1. So ten a.m., maybe a few after. When I got here, the door was closed. I figured he was working, so I knocked. When he didn’t answer I knocked harder, and the door swung open. I walked in and found him just like you did. I didn’t touch anything.” The lawyer in her felt compelled to point that fact out.

  “Did you notice anyone else hanging around when you got here?” he questioned.

  She shook her head. “No. I didn’t see anyone once I entered the building.”

  “It’s between terms. We have a limited number of faculty and students on campus,” Dean Ziegler interjected.

  Detective Rodriguez nodded. “I’m going to need a list of all of those who had access to this building.”

  “Mallory, can you get that for him?” Dean Ziegler asked.

  “Sure. I’ll go get it right now,” she said, walking off.

  Detective Rodriguez snapped his notebook shut and looked back at Chloe. “I’m going to need you to come down to the station and give a formal statement.”

  “Okay. Now?”

  “I’m not sure when I’ll be back to the station today. Would tomorrow morning work for you?”

  “Sure.”

  Mallory walked back and handed a printed sheet to Detective Rodriguez. “Here is a list of all the students currently enrolled in a summer session, and the faculty who are still teaching for the summer. I am also printing a master list of everyone with his or her contact information, but that will take a while, as you can imagine. I can drop it off at the station for you, if you’d like,” she said, smiling.

  Chloe tilted her head in confusion. Was Mallory flirting with the detective? He was good-looking. Probably mid to late thirties, about six foot, and clearly had a good physique underneath his dress shirt and pants—he definitely worked out. While Chloe didn’t blame her for flirting with the handsome detective, this just didn’t seem the most appropriate time to do so. She glanced over at Dean Ziegler to see if he seemed at all concerned, and he didn’t. Maybe all the years working at a top criminal defense firm made her more cautious than she should be.

  Detective Rodriguez smiled. “That won’t be necessary. Give it to one of the officers before they leave. They will make sure I get it.”

  “Okay.” She seemed disappointed, and Chloe tried not to smile.

  “I’m going to check in with the team processing the crime scene, and then I will be back to the station. Meet me there in say, an hour?”

  “I’ll be there,” Chloe said.

  “Do you know what happened?” Dean Ziegler asked.

  Detective Rodriguez paused, probably thinking of just the right thing to say. “It’s likely he did not die of natural causes.”

  Good way to put it, Detective, she thought wryly. That clearly was an understatement.

  “So he was murdered,” Mallory said boldly.

  The detective just looked at her. “I’ll have more information later. Now, please excuse me,” he said and walked back into Bill’s office, where he started talking to the crime scene techs.

  “I can’t believe this is happening,” Mallory said.

  “Me either. This is not going to look good in the media,” said Dean Ziegler, the stress showing on his face.

  “Maybe this can stay low-key,” Chloe said, knowing full well that something like this wouldn’t have much of a chance of staying low-key because of the case Bill was involved in. In fact, his involvement in that was the first thing she thought of when she was wondering if maybe he was murdered. There were some big players in this case, and when there was a lot at stake, things like this happened.

  Bill Peterson, the professor she was replacing, was taking time off to work on the case of recently accused embezzler, Randall Whittier. Whittier had been the CFO of GlobE, a billion-dollar energy company specializing in alternative fuel sources. He’d been accused of embezzling more than ten million dollars from various company holdings over the last five years, and had recruited Bill Peterson as part of his legal team. Bill was one of the top legal minds in the area of forensic accounting, as he was also a CPA. He’d returned to teaching a few years ago, but from what she’d heard, this case had been enticing enough to persuade him to take it on.

  Mallory shook her head. “I think it’s too late to hope for that,” she said, pointing out the window, where the media was already gathering.

  “How did they get wind of this already?” Dean Ziegler asked, looking worried.

  “They probably have police scanners to keep them informed,” Chloe said.

  “I better go out there and deal with this,” Dean Ziegler said fretfully.

  Mallory lowered her voice to whisper in Chloe’s ear, out of earshot of Dean Ziegler. “The detective sure was cute, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes, he was,” Chloe agreed.

  “I wonder if he’s single. I didn’t see a ring, but that doesn’t mean anything these days.”

  “Do you want me to ask when I meet him at the station later?” Chloe joked.

  “Would you?” Mallory said excitedly, to which Chloe looked at her with a smile. She seemed so intent on getting to know the good-looking detective better that she clearly missed the fact Chloe had been teasing.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Chloe replied, playing along.

  Chapter 4

  “Pretty dress,” Mallory said to Chloe about the pink-and-gray floral print dress she was wearing. It was sleeveless, close fitting at the waist, and flared out a little at the hips. Just enough to hide any imperfections in that area, but not enough to make her look more bottom heavy than she already was. Chloe was curvy, something she embraced. She tried to play up her assets and minimize areas that needed it, that is, when she put thought into it in the first place.
This dress was one of Chloe’s favorites.

  “Thanks. Yours too.” They were at the summer faculty mixer. Because so many of the full-time faculty left for the summer and the classes were taught by adjunct faculty or visiting faculty, they had an annual get-together before the start of each summer session. Just to kick off the semester, and for people to get to know each other. So far, it was like a junior high dance, with clusters of people who already knew each other talking amongst themselves but not mingling with the newbies. Some things never changed, even as you got older. There had been some talk of canceling it due to the unexpected events surrounding Bill’s death, but the decision had been made to have it anyway, in an effort to get things back to normal. It had just been moved off campus.

  “Come with me, and I will introduce you to John Green. He teaches personal injury law, and as you can imagine, he’s a hoot. Lots of funny stories.”

  They walked over to a group of three people, who stopped talking when they approached them.

  “Hi, Mallory. You’re looking as beautiful as ever,” a gentleman in beige linen pants and a linen short-sleeved shirt said. He had dark brown hair, a slight build, and very pretty gray eyes. And while Chloe wasn’t a fan of linen on men, she had to give him credit that, somehow, he seemed to be one of the few who was able to wear it successfully. His horn-rimmed glasses completed the look.

  “Why, thank you, John.” She smiled. “I want you to meet someone. John Green, this is Chloe Parsons. Visiting professor for Bill Peterson.”