Vengeance Page 7

  I opened it back up to the page where I had left off. For a book of addresses and phone numbers, it appeared have surprisingly few of them. I had paged through the lettered pages and then the note pages as well, but I couldn’t find Jody Yule’s or Jenny Thurman’s names anywhere. If they were affections of Hank’s, I figured they’d be there somewhere.

  I had started checking the various pages for indentions of pen marks from pages that had been torn out, and eventually, I had found one. I was on the verge of grabbing a pencil when Kathy and Athena had interrupted me.

  Now, alone again, I took my sharpened number two and rubbed it across the page very lightly to try and bring out the writing. Names along with addresses and phone numbers started appearing as I slowly and delicately worked my way down the page:

  Darla Hemmingway – 777-6575 – single: 569 N. Porter

  Jenny Thurman – 777-6932 – Room 112, Zippel Hall

  Jody Yule – 777-9314 – Room 211, Zippel Hall

  Harriet Graham – 777-6840 – w/parents: 830 W. Sondheim

  Tricia Clark – 777-2076 – Room 106, Menken Hall

  Mindy Zimmerman – 777-6908 – Room 208, Menken Hall

  Ashley Carter – 777-6247 – Room 116, Zippel Hall

  Laura Taylor – 777-9252 – Room 119, Menken Hall

  Sherry Duke – 777-0645, w/Bob, 748 N. Rimsky Dr.

  Linda Allen – 777-3323 – Room 201, Menken Hall

  Jackpot. Our two victims listed on this page meant that my (and Kathy’s) supposition about there being more women was completely correct. The real question, however, was whether all of these women were potential victims or if one of them could be the killer who had the physical page containing this information, having presumably stolen it from the book the night of the original murder. That would mean, of course, that the killer was acquainted with Michaels well enough to know about this book.

  The trouble with sorting this out was that despite his ability to hide his activities from his wife, I had more statements from people who had seen or heard something in relation to Professor Michaels’ extracurricular movements with his students than I knew what to do with. Some of them were vague, and they had assumed they had just misunderstood or taken the moments out of context, but knowing what had happened to him, they all made sense to everyone now. He even had one from a student who had overheard Michaels and Ms. Yule setting up their rendezvous for the evening they were killed.

  The student recalled that Michaels was giving a lecture on revenge that morning. The class was of a modest size, like most of the classes at the university, only having about thirty students sitting at desks like a traditional public school classroom. One of the more curious features of Michaels’ classroom that many people never thought about until after his excessive philandering came out was that the blinds in his room were often down and even the window on the door was covered. It gave the room a dark look even on a sunny day when the rest of the school was bright and cheerful. What I found the most fascinating about this testimony was the way Michaels’ lecture played into the case surrounding his death.

  “When revenge consumes the psyche of an individual,” Michaels had said that morning (according to the recording I was given of it), “they will go to any lengths to get the satisfaction they think they need. Then what? They fill that space by deciding everyone associated with the initial person is to blame for the problem and take out their revenge on them as well, instigating a long, vicious cycle of vengeance that can never truly be fulfilled.”

  The class bell sounded at that point and the students gathered their things together to leave for their next class. The slowest in gathering her things was Jody Yule, but no one paid any attention to this until later.

  “Test over this unit on Friday,” Hank reminded them as they left. “You don’t study, and my revenge will be on your transcripts.” Curiously, no one laughed.

  The class emptied quickly except for Jody, who took her time and waited until everyone had left before sauntering across the room to Hank’s desk. It was about this time outside the door that the person who told me about this conversation realized they had left a book under their desk and walked back. They paused outside the door upon hearing Jody and Hank talking.

  “Professor Michaels,” Jody said, “there were some things that I wanted to ask you about.”

  “Yes, Jody?” Hank said, and as soon as they reached each other, she threw her arms around his neck, and they kissed at length. After what felt like a very long time, they stopped but remained in each others’ arms.

  “Would you like to come over tonight?” Hank asked. “I have the house to myself.”

  “You mean we don’t have to meet in my dorm room again?” Jody asked in surprise. “Where’s the little woman, Hank?”

  “Athena’s going to her mother’s for the evening,” he said very frankly. “She never gets back in until after I’ve left the next morning. She might be even later since she has to take her mother to some church thing in the morning, so we’ll have the place to ourselves.”

  “What did you have in mind?” Jody asked, giggling. Hank ran his hands down Jody’s figure.

  “Absolutely anything,” he replied. “How’s ten o’clock?”

  “I’m there,” Jody said.

  “Good.”

  The witness said he heard them kiss again and gave up on his book. He didn’t want to walk in on that and had no idea how long they would be making out in there. Besides, he felt that walking in as soon as she left might make Michaels wonder if he were listening to them. So he left and decided to get his book some other time.

  I placed this deposition on my desk next to the list of names and leaned back in my chair to consider my course of action after ordering an escort at each residence. Yes, I was tapping my lips again.

  * * * * * * * *

  As they walked out of the station toward Kathy’s car in the parking lot, Kathy could see Athena was bothered by the whole ordeal.

  “You know,” Kathy said, trying to lift the mood, “even if I did have a practice, I wouldn’t charge you.”

  “What am I going to do?” Athena asked, not even acknowledging what Kathy said. “They won’t believe me.”

  “Well, your husband was murdered, and wives always rank first as suspects.”

  “I was attacked!”

  “Are you sure?”

  Athena stopped and looked at Kathy, hurt by the suggestion. “What?”

  “I’m your friend,” Kathy said as gently as possible, “so don’t take this the wrong way, but are you sure someone was actually in your house?”

  “I saw her,” Athena insisted.

  “I didn’t say you didn’t see something, but are you sure someone was there?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You described a shadow. That’s it. You’re still recovering from a depression when this hit you. I didn’t want to give credence to the detective’s ideas of hypomania, but it’s possible in your condition.”

  “What?” Athena shook her head in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

  “Maybe your Zoloft dosage isn’t high enough,” Kathy suggested. “You’ve got some full blown anxiety and this recent episode sounds pretty hypomanic in nature.”

  “I don’t know what that means,” Athena said.

  “Maybe you should consider talking to someone,” Kathy suggested. “It doesn’t have to be a psychiatrist. You could talk to Pastor Chambers, if you wanted.”

  “About my episodes?” Athena asked, sarcastically placing air quotes around “episodes.”

  “I was just saying it was possible,” Kathy said.

  “I’m not going insane,” Athena insisted, holding her head once again wondering if the assertion were true.

  “Didn’t say you were. But the detective has a point. Four dead, no witnesses. You survived.”

  “Are you saying I killed him?” Athena scoffed.

  “No,” Kathy assured, “but answer me this: what did you dre
am about that night?”

  Athena looked away from her, thinking. She shook her head and walked toward the car again. “I don’t remember.”

  Kathy caught up with her and walked alongside. “You don’t sleepwalk, do you?”

  “Kathy, please…”Athena sighed.

  “Athena,” Kathy began, stepping in front of Athena to stop her, “you’d better hope you never see this chick again, or that she bungles her next murder.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if you see your shadow killer, and he kills everyone but you, you get at least psychoanalyzed. If that happens, you’d better know what you did or you could end up institutionalized as well.”

  “But I didn’t do anything.”

  “I’m just playing devil’s advocate here,” Kathy said, walking again, “but if I were analyzing you, I might say you don’t remember doing anything. Maybe your mind blocked it out.”

  “And that’s possible?”

  “You have no idea what’s possible.”

  The pair reached Kathy’s car, which was a two door sport variety of a sedan. Kathy got into the driver’s seat and Athena in the passenger. As Kathy started the car, Athena looked at her.

  “You never told me you had a psych degree,” Athena said.

  Kathy shrugged. “I never realized I never told you. I did tell you I worked at the mental hospital, though.”

  “Yeah, I guess so,” Athena said. “I just never put it together. Maybe that’s why we get along so well.”

  “What? You only get along with shrinks?” Kathy asked. “I’m sure there’s a diagnosis for that too.”

  Athena laughed, despite herself, as they pulled out of the parking lot and headed home.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Yesterday’s Dreams

  Sherry Duke taught English at Bluffs University for many years and shared her three bedroom house with her husband, Bob, when he wasn’t away on business. They had had one child right after they were married at the age of eighteen, but never had any more. Now, pushing forty, Sherry and Bob had both gone through rough patches in their marriage, each sleeping around on the other at various times. She knew what he was up to when he left and vice versa, so affairs for either of them were less of a surprise and more of an expectation.

  All that being said, they stayed together. Since her brief tryst with Hank Michaels, Sherry had decided to keep to herself as much as possible outside of the University. Following the explosion of details surrounding Professor Michaels’ illicit love life with his students, she definitely wanted to get her life together again and out of the spotlight, but it was hard with Bob always gone. It was the boredom that started this problem to begin with.

  Outside the Duke house this evening was a police cruiser with Officer Carver sitting patiently, watching the premises. Ideally, we prefer to have two officers sitting together, but given the sheer number of people we had to watch, we had to go with one at each residence. They were to check in every thirty minutes, and someone was going to check on them physically every couple of hours. It was the best we could do.

  On this evening, stuck at home under police protection, Sherry flipped channels on the television. Normally, she would watch any inane program she came across, but with everything being the way it was, she was unable to get involved in anything. She didn’t know what she was looking for, but at this point, she was dressed for bed and not tired. Not surprising since it was barely nine o’clock, she never went to bed this early, and her life had the added distraction of being told she was a possible target for a criminal who had killed four people so far. That ranked somewhat higher than a mere threat. She was scared and bored, and probably wouldn’t sleep at all tonight. Her normal response to boredom at home was to go out and shop or hang out with people from work, but again, with circumstances the way they were, she was stuck. Picking up a book was worse than trying to find something on TV; she was too distracted.

  In addition, she had been speaking to her Bob on the phone for awhile while he was in flight, and she was counting the minutes until she could speak to him again. Once he got home, which was supposed to happen at some point tonight, she would be fine. He would keep her company. Until then, she continued watching ten second segments of programs before flipping the channel again, barely paying attention.

  The Duke residence was a small three bedroom house with the dining room attached to the living room and a sliding glass panel door leading into the tiny backyard. The kitchen was to the left of the dining room, as viewed from the living room, divided from the dining room with a small countertop island and a door out of the kitchen led into the hall. The kitchen door led into the hall and the door to the bathroom was at the end of the hall. The door to the master bedroom was on the left and to the right was a very short hallway with doors on both side leading to the other bedrooms, which at this point, were used as a game room and a guest room, since their one child was no longer living with them, though he did return on occasion from the college far from Bluffs where he was conducting his graduate studies having graduated from Bluffs University with his under graduate degree this past year.

  The phone rang. Sherry turned off the TV, happily bounced over to the phone, and picked up the receiver.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Sherry,” said the voice on the other end. Sherry’s face brightened.

  “Bob,” she said happily. “How was your landing?”

  “Good,” he said. “Sorry I had to let you go. They don’t like you using even the airphones when landing.”

  “It’s ok. About what you were telling me…”

  “I just feel guilty about it,” Bob interrupted.

  “Bob, I’ve been feeling the same way,” Sherry confessed. They had been talking about the past few years extensively over the past few days while he’d been away. “I think we should just put it behind us.”

  “Do you want to know who it was?” Bob asked.

  “No,” Sherry said. She honestly didn’t care. “I’ve always known what was going on, Bob. I’m not stupid. And I’m sure you’re not either.”

  “No, I guess not.”

  “I admit to having someone else when you’re gone,” she said. “But it’s all so temporary. They’re still not you, and I’m still empty. I need you.”

  “I’m in the cab now,” Bob said. “I’m going to get a job in town. No more of this traveling nonsense. I married you to be with you.”

  “Really?” Sherry said, excited. “I can’t wait. I’ll be looking for you. Please hurry.”

  “Okay,” he said. “Hey.”

  “Hm?”

  “I am sorry.”

  “Me too,” Sherry said gently with a smile. “Forget it. Just us. I love you.”

  “I love you too, baby.” And the call disconnected. Sherry looked at the phone with a distant, dreamy expression. Slowly, a huge smile drifted across her face as if the sun had just risen over her life. She stood, laughing. Tears rolled down her face in joy when she realized that despite everything she had done wrong, it was all going to work out just fine. She was neither bored nor distracted any longer. Bob was only minutes away.

  She folded her hands before her, “Oh, thank you, Lord. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Forgive me for my stupidity. Amen.” Absolved of her religious duty, she squealed excitedly as she ran down the hall into the bathroom.

  Then she remembered that she needed to tell Officer Carver about this. She grabbed her cordless phone and the post-it she had scribbled his cell phone number on and then headed back to the bathroom. She dialed the number as she walked and waited for Carver to answer.

  “Carver,” Carver answered.

  “Officer Carver?” Sherry confirmed.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Is everything all right?”

  “Officer, I just thought I’d let you know. My husband is coming home this evening. Please let him know what’s going on and then let him in.”

  “When is he going to be here?”

  “He’s comi
ng from the airport in a cab. I don’t know. However long that takes.”

  “I’ll keep an eye out.”

  “Thanks,” Sherry said as she hung up the phone.

  Sherry was standing in front of the mirror in her bathroom which had a door leading both into the hall of the house as well as another door leading into her bedroom. At this moment, the hall door was closed while she had the bedroom side open. She looked into the mirror as she carefully touched up her make-up. She fully intended to change into something better for Bob’s return once she was done.

  After a few final touches, she put her makeup away in a bag she kept in a drawer in the cabinet under the sink. She checked herself over once more before deciding that she was done. She nodded to herself with a smile and walked into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

  Outside the house, Officer Carver sat patiently watching the house listening to music on an iPod through mini-speakers sitting next to him on the seat. He knew this was going to be a long night, and since he didn’t have anyone to watch with him, he knew he couldn’t read anything since that would take his eyes off the situation. Part of the reason a duty like this would have two people assigned to it was to help stave off sleep, so without that extra help to stay up, everyone would be struggling by morning. This was another reason for the frequent check-ins; if we didn’t from them, they would get a call to keep them awake.

  Something hit the back of the car. Carver reached over to the iPod and shut it off. He looked out the back window and then checked the mirrors. He didn’t see anything out there. The street was lit fairly well, though the Duke house was between street lights, so it was a bit of a dark spot.

  Something hit the passenger side door. Not hard enough to cause any damage by the sound of it, but certainly enough to get his attention. He leaned across the seat and looked to the ground under the door. Still nothing there. Someone was toying with him.

  Another thump, this time from the front. He peered over the hood, but as before, he could decipher nothing outside the vehicle. Whoever it was remained below the eyeline of the car, but they had been moving around the vehicle little by little. He unhooked his weapon and removed it from its holster and took hold of the door handle.