Meeting over Murder: Lessons in Murder Book 1 Read online

  MEETING OVER MURDER

  LESSONS IN MURDER, BOOK 1

  EDALE LANE

  PAST AND PROLOGUE PRESS

  Meeting over Murder: Lessons in Murder, Book 1

  By Edale Lane

  Published by Past and Prologue Press

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the publisher, except for the purpose of reviews.

  Edited by Melodie Romeo

  Cover art by Melodie Romeo

  This book is a work of fiction and all names, characters, places, and incidents are fictional or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is coincidental.

  First Edition July 2022

  Copyright © 2022 by Edale Lane

  Printed in the United States of America

  Created with Vellum

  Created with Vellum

  CONTENTS

  Foreword

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Epilogue

  Other Books by Edale Lane

  About the Author

  FOREWORD

  This series is set in the real-life city of Roanoke, Virginia but features a fictional community college. While Roanoke is home to Virginia Western Community College and Roanoke College is located in nearby Salem, the Roanoke Community College portrayed in the books is not intended to represent either one. All characters and events in this book are fictional and any resemblance to actual people or events is purely coincidental.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Special thanks to my mother, Patty Burns, for reading Agatha Christie to me as a child, to my daughter, Michele Mejia for her input on cover design, and to my partner, Johanna White for providing inspiration for this series. Also thank you to Laure Dherbécourt for spot-on proof-reading, and Kris Walls and Shannon Massey for exceptional beta reading. Another set of eyes is always invaluable.

  CHAPTER 1

  Day One

  Dr. Miranda McLeod pulled her blue Dodge Ram into the faculty parking lot in front of the Humanities building of Roanoke Community College and frowned at the red Toyota Corolla bearing a student decal. As she stepped out dragging a lunch box and tote bag stuffed with books and papers, her sensible ankle boots crunched into a thin layer of ice that coated the pavement, her forest-green wool overcoat guarding her against the chill. She was always the first to arrive on Tuesday and Thursday mornings, as she liked to be at least an hour early for her eight o’clock classes to get organized, record grades, plan lessons, and so forth. Students would receive tickets for parking in faculty spots; however, that only applied during daytime hours, and they could park here for night classes.

  Miranda, Randi for short, pushed up her gold wire-rimmed glasses and circled the car, looking for clues. It could have been out of gas, had a dead battery, or wouldn’t start for some other reason. There were no fresh footprints to or from, the hood was cold, and frost coated the windshield. She was about to call campus security when she spotted several vultures circling the edge of a wooded area about fifty yards away. Instantly, she was struck with a sick feeling in her gut. It could just be a dead animal; a lot of raccoons hang around campus. Don’t jump to conclusions. She moved with steel determination in the suspicious direction, past the corner of the three-story brick building, over a small hill, to the tree line, and then froze in her tracks. “Oh, no!” she cried and raced toward the body lying in the shallow snow, halting as she neared. A thin crust of ice spread over the young woman like a sheer shroud, her glazed eyes open and blank. Randi had watched enough crime dramas to know not to disturb anything in the vicinity of the body, and she was far too late to offer aid. She dug out her cell phone and dialed 911.

  Lieutenant Jenna Ferrari’s alarm clock was not due to buzz for another hour, but she was awakened all the same by the incessant ringtone blaring from the cell phone on her nightstand. Eyes still glazed shut, she sluggishly picked up the annoying piece of plastic and pushed the answer button. “Ferrari here,” she eked out amid a yawn.

  “Wake up, Lieutenant,” came the crisp, commanding and wide-awake voice of Captain Jerome Myers. “We have a homicide.”

  At the sound of those words, Jenna snapped into full alert. “Where?” she asked as she tossed back the covers and hopped out of bed.

  “On campus at the community college, near the Liberal Arts Building,” he said. “A teacher called it in. I’ve already contacted the coroner.”

  “Okay,” she replied while rifling through a drawer for clothes. “I’ll get ahold of Jamison and Owens. Don’t let anyone touch anything, and I don’t want the body moved or disturbed. I need to see the scene exactly as the killer left it.”

  She could hear a little chuckle over the phone. “Will do, Ferrari. This isn’t our first rodeo, you know.”

  “Yes, Sir, sorry, Sir,” she apologized briskly. “I’ll be right there.” Off came the gray Virginia Tech t-shirt as she hurriedly tucked herself into proper detective attire, which for Jenna consisted of black pants, a bra and undershirt, blue button up, black leather motorcycle style jacket, with thick socks and standard police boots. Coffee would have to wait, she decided as she buckled on her holster and snatched her badge from the dresser. She stopped for a quick glance in the mirror, running three brush strokes through her short crop of sable hair. She took time to swish her mouthwash and spit, and then lit out her apartment door.

  Lieutenant Ferrari arrived on the scene twenty minutes after she got the call, sliding her silver Honda Accord into a parking space beside a black and white whose blue lights still spun. The coroner’s wagon was already there along with Tricia Jamison’s hatchback. How did she beat me here? Jenna wondered.

  A uniformed officer met her as she exited her vehicle. “Lieutenant, it looks like a student. She’s over there,” the young man pointed. “We called the dean and he’s on his way now. That’s Dr. McLeod, the professor who found the body,” he explained pointing to the tall, lanky woman with shoulder length light brown hair standing to the side displaying a look of sorrowful compassion on her ruddy face.

  “I want to talk to her in a minute,” Jenna instructed the lad, “but first I need to see the body. I hope there aren’t a zillion footprints mucking up my scene,” she muttered.

  “I was first on the scene, and I had to go look to make sure there was actually a dead person and all,” he said apologetically. “Officer Jamison snapped pics before Dr. Valentine arrived, and that teacher—man, she backed out of the area, stepping exactly in her own footprints to minimize the disturbance.”

  Jenna gave the professor another glance as she and the uniform passed. “Officer Murphy, right?”

  The youthful blond-haired policeman straightened up as if coming to attention. “That’s right.”

  Jenna stopped and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Good work. Now, keep everyone else far away from that body, got it?”

  “Yes Sir, ah Ma’am, uh, will do.”

  A wry smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, and the short veteran detective with the commanding presence shook her head.

  As she approached, she spotted a willowy green-eyed woman with long strawberry-blond hair who resembled a fashion model more than a cop. Tricia Jamison was snapping photos of everything in sight. How does she do it? Did she wake up at five in the morning to look like that? An expression resembling a scowl formed ov
er Jenna’s face as her intense blue eyes studied the perfection of her co-worker. “Good morning, Lieutenant. I snapped decent shots of the ground around the victim before anyone else started walking over here,” she said.

  “Thanks, Jamison. Dr. Valentine,” she acknowledged as she stepped up beside him. She stood a few feet from the body of a young woman with long chestnut strands and dull brown eyes staring out from a frosted face. She was fully clothed with a book bag on the ground nearby.

  “Liver temp puts time of death between ten and twelve last night,” Dr. Valentine conveyed in a distinctive New England accent. He wore onyx glasses that matched his short black hair and his six-foot four-inch frame towered unnaturally over Jenna, but she didn’t seem to notice. Her keen gaze studied the snow, the victim, every detail she could make out in the early light of dawn. “So far, I have noted blunt force trauma to the head, but we’ll need a full autopsy before I can tell you if that was the cause of death.”

  So young, Jenna thought as she examined the victim’s body. Young, pretty, your whole life ahead of you. “No obvious signs of sexual assault, but I want a rape kit run all the same. And I don’t expect she was killed here. There’s not enough blood. The killer must have moved the body and somehow covered up his tracks.”

  “I concur,” the experienced coroner agreed.

  “Jamison, did it snow more last night?” Jenna asked, looking over her shoulder from her squat position beside the victim.

  “I don’t think so,” she answered, wrinkling her nose in thought. “We have an identification,” she continued, “from her student ID. The victim is Allison Banks, sophomore, nineteen years old, from Harrisonburg.” She walked over behind Jenna and sighed wearily. “It doesn’t seem that long ago I was a sophomore. Ferrari, I want to nail the bastard who did this. If anywhere, our schools should be safe!”

  “Oh don’t worry, Jamison,” she asserted, gritting her teeth with determination. “We are going to give this top priority, and I will not stop until we catch the son of a bitch. The last thing we need is every student on this campus afraid to go to a night class.” She cast another look down at that soft face, forever frozen in her youth. “Allison,” she conveyed in a private confession. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you, but I will find who did this, and he will pay.”

  Lieutenant Ferrari walked back across the crusty snow amid streams of light filtering through the trees, illuminating the white surface of the ground. Around them rose the ancient silhouette of purplish-blue shadows, the hedge of the Blue Ridge Mountains. She spotted Detective Ron Owens getting out of his ordinary looking white sedan, complete with a snowcapped roof. “Jamison, fill him in, will ya? I’ve got to talk to the witness.”

  Jamison nodded and made her way delicately over the frosty ground to a balding man in his forties, built like the linebacker he had been in high school, with the addition of twenty pounds of beer belly.

  “Dr. McLeod?” Jenna addressed as she neared the professor, who was staring absently at the ground.

  Randi’s warm brown eyes lifted to assess the detective. She seemed to be about her same age, mid-thirties. Her face was round with a button nose and stunning blue eyes, and despite the masculine clothing, she sported vivacious curves. Hot, in no uncertain terms. When did they start giving cops a body like that? Randi felt guilty for the first thoughts that popped into her head, not because they weren’t all too true, but because of the circumstances. This was the first time she had seen a dead person except at a funeral all clean and arranged neatly in their coffin, and those people had mostly been old. “Yes,” she answered, straightening and tensing just a little.

  “I’m Lieutenant Ferrari, and I’m the lead detective on this case,” she stated in introduction. Jenna extended a hand, which Randi took, and they exchanged a firm grip. “So, tell me exactly what happened, what you saw and did when you arrived at school this morning.” She took out a note pad and pen and leaned comfortably against the blue Ram.

  Nice truck, Jenna thought, and turned her gaze to the professor. Professor? she mused, glancing up and down her long, lean frame. She looks more like an athlete to me. No, no, focus. You must stop checking out every woman you meet.

  As Dr. McLeod related the events, Jenna was impressed with her sense of observation and deduction, in addition to her lack of hysteria. It was evident the teacher was shocked and saddened by the death of a student, but she was holding everything together quite well for a civilian.

  “Did you know the victim?”

  “Yes,” Dr. McLeod answered in a bereaved tone. “Allison was in my English Lit class. She was a good student and a promising writer. She seemed happy, was a fabulous violin player, had lots of friends. She didn’t hang out with the party crowd, and I can’t think of anyone who would want to hurt her.” Glancing at the notes Jenna jotted down, Dr. McLeod pulled a folded sheet of paper from her coat pocket. “I took the liberty of making a list of names of her friends. I figured you’d want to talk to them.”

  Jenna looked up into intelligent, caring, umber eyes, her lips parting in mild astonishment. “Yes, thank you. I was going to ask about her friends.” She has a keen eye for detail and anticipates what questions I will ask. She deserves that PHD. “Do you know if she had a boyfriend, a bad breakup, or anything? Or have you seen any suspicious people hanging around that don’t belong on campus?”

  “I’m not sure about boyfriends, but someone on this list should know. As for strangers on campus—well, there wasn’t anyone around this morning and I’m usually gone by or before four in the afternoons. I wish I could be of more help. I feel like there should be more I can do,” she lamented.

  “Dr. McLeod, you have done well,” Jenna stated in sincere praise. “You spotted something out of the ordinary, investigated, discovered the body before anyone else arrived, preserved the scene, called it in, made a list of friends—all with no one asking or telling you what to do. If all my witnesses were as adept as you, we’d have far fewer unsolved cases, I can tell you that.”

  Randi blushed and inclined her head. “Well, I do watch a lot of crime dramas. But truly, if there is anything else I can do to help, please do not hesitate to call me.” Randi handed the detective a professional card with her name and number on it. Please call me, she thought, adding for her own moral satisfaction, so I can help you catch the murderer before he kills any more students.

  Lieutenant Ferrari took the card and slid it into her jacket pocket. “To be honest, I will probably need to talk to you again after I interview these students. Thank you for being so helpful. I will be sure to let you know when we have a suspect in custody so you and everyone else at the college can breathe easier.”

  “Thank you, Lieutenant Ferrari; I appreciate that.” Randi studied the sincerity in the detective’s face. She really does care.

  The lieutenant shifted over to the Toyota. “Owens,” she called. “I want this car fingerprinted inside and out, and I want it thoroughly searched.”

  Randi looked down at her watch. Yikes! Time for class. Oh, man, what will I say to the kids? She took a last look over her shoulder at the detective who had caught her eye, and then headed into the building.

  “Don’t we need a warrant?” Owens asked Jenna in a grumpy voice as the burley cop stomped across the icy parking lot.

  “It’s parked on school property in a faculty lot,” she replied. “If the dean gives us permission, then we don’t need a warrant.”

  “And the dean will be most happy to give you permission.” Jenna and Detective Owens turned to see the distinguished looking man in his early forties who had spoken. “Dr. Harrelson, at your service,” he said in a calm yet serious manner. “This is such a tragedy, and I want this murder cleared up as soon as possible. I don’t want parents being afraid to send their children here. I don’t want all the negative publicity this incident will bring the college. And of course,” he added sympathetically, “I am so upset about the poor young lady’s death.” His salt and pepper hair was neatl
y cut above a handsome face and concerned eyes. He wore a long, tan overcoat atop a gray suit.

  “Thank you, Dr. Harrelson,” Jenna acknowledged. “I am Detective Lieutenant Ferrari, and this is Detective Owens. May we ask you a few questions?”

  “Certainly,” he replied in a reassuring fashion. “I will help in any way I can.”

  Jenna proceeded to ask about any new hires, any complaints by students of harassment, and the like, but he was unable to recall anyone suspicious. How’d he get to be dean? she thought after fifteen minutes of getting nowhere. The English teacher is way smarter than this guy!

  CHAPTER 2

  Jenna stood in the criminal investigations office, her leather jacket hanging on a hook, and taped another picture on the whiteboard that hung on the wall, with her team assembled around her. Tricia Jamison handed her a stack of photo printouts with a carefully manicured hand. Ron Owens rubbed thick fingers across the sparse brown hairs still clinging to his wide head. Their tech guy, Ethan Bauman, joined the three who had been at the scene. Bauman was older than Jenna, younger than Owens, and taller than both. His black hair dangled in big curls while round wire-rimmed glasses accentuated deep chocolate eyes. He had the look of one who had been captain of the chess club in high school, complete with khaki pants and navy turtle-neck sweater. Jenna thought he probably had been exactly that. She had wanted to play sports, but with her dysfunctional youth and childhood it had never come to be—neither had chess club.