The Grim Steeper: A Teapot Collector Mystery (4 page)

“Thank you,” Sophie said, meeting the other woman’s gaze. “I appreciate the pep talk.”

“Now scoot,” she said, giving Sophie a push. “Help Jason out. He looks uncomfortable.”

She tottered across the room, trying to maneuver in the unfamiliar high-heeled boots. Jason took her arm as she joined the group.

There was a momentary lull, and he spoke up. “Everybody, I didn’t have a chance to say earlier that Sophie’s grandmother is the owner of Auntie Rose’s Victorian Tea House in Gracious Grove. They’ll be taking part in the Fall Fling Townwide Tea Party this year.”

The coach’s wife pushed up her glasses and snorted with derision. “As if anyone cares about a freaking tea party!”

Nuñez Ortega, his expression neutral, said, “Mrs. Donovan, you haven’t been here long enough to know, perhaps, but Gracious Grove takes its reputation as a tea town very seriously. The result, I suppose, of being dry for so long.”

The woman jammed her hands into her sweater pockets and looked away. Sophie felt sorry for her and, as the conversation switched to some other topic important to the staff, sidled over. “It’s an odd place, isn’t it? Whenever I describe Gracious Grove to my New York friends, they’re appalled that there are still dry towns in this country. I’m Sophie Taylor, by the way. I didn’t catch your name earlier.”

“Penny Donovan. This place sucks,” she said. She squinted and wriggled her nose, then pushed her glasses up. “Heck
worked at a high school before this. At least the teachers’ wives and husbands weren’t a bunch of snobs like this crowd.”

“You’ve been here a year, right?”

“Heck has, but I just came this fall.”

Penny had a grating nasal tone to her voice, a Long Island twang more exaggerated than any Sophie had heard from native Long Islanders.

“I had a contract position at a not-for-profit in the city,” the woman continued, “so I didn’t move here until the contract was up.”

When anyone said
the city
in that tone, Sophie knew they meant New York City. “You must miss it. I lived in the city for a few years, and after that the slower pace in Gracious Grove is hard to get used to.” She exaggerated a little to commiserate with Penny; one thing she
didn’t
miss was the pace of life in NYC.

“I miss it like crazy. I had something to do there, something important! What I did mattered, and now . . . now I don’t do anything but support Heck’s job. It
sucks
.” Her tone was fierce, and she shoved her glasses up on her nose with a brisk gesture. “I’m at the end of my rope.”

“I’m sorry,” Sophie said, not sure how to respond to the woman’s vehement dislike of Gracious Grove and Cruickshank College.

Penny shrugged. “Whatever. So I hear your boyfriend is in hot water, right?” she asked, eyeing Jason, standing nearby. “Because of that goon, Mac MacAlister?”

Sophie, taken aback at the abrupt mention of a problem she had just learned about, stayed silent.

“Oh, okay, I get it. No talking to the staff’s wife about it, right?”

“That’s not it. But I don’t know a lot about it, and I’m not sure what to say.”

“What I would want to know is, who turned your fellow in? Who told a stupid school newspaper reporter? I mean, it has to be someone who has a grudge against Jason.”

Sophie thought about that for a moment. “Not necessarily. It could be someone who doesn’t like Mac, right? Or even someone who doesn’t like your husband. From what little I understand, Mac is the star on the team. If he’s benched, it would hurt their chances at making it into the play-offs, or whatever it is that college basketball teams do.” When the other woman just stared at her, she added, “Or it could be someone with a grudge against Cruikshank, or the dean, or someone who feels strongly about athletes in general.”

“Boy, you’re full of answers, aren’t you?” Penny turned and walked away.

Jason caught Sophie’s eye and tilted his head toward the coach’s wife, who stomped to the perimeter of the room and began browsing the food tables. Sophie shrugged.

Dean Asquith’s elegant wife, Jeanette, detached herself from her husband’s coterie of admirers and drifted to Sophie’s side. “I understand you’re Rosalind Taylor’s daughter.”

“Do you know my mother?”

“I do. My people have a home in the Hamptons near yours. I understood that you were working at Bartleby’s. Such a lovely restaurant. What happened?”

“My grandmother got sick. I couldn’t get time off, so I quit.” That was the short answer, and one she was going to stick with. It was easier than explaining the circumstances. Out of the corner of her eye, Sophie noticed a girl who looked like a student edge into the room; she sidled over to the buffet table, filled a plate with goodies, then moved to a corner, eating, and watching everyone with a sharp gaze.

“Well, tell your mother hello from Jeanette Asquith, next time you see her.”

“That’s not likely to be for a while,” Sophie said frankly, still watching the girl.

Julia Dandridge marched over to her and said something sharp. The girl seemed upset and put the plate down. Julia pointed to the door. It appeared that she was ordering the girl to leave. Maybe she was gatecrasher, not supposed to be at what was clearly a staff event.

As the dean’s wife launched into some story about the family home in the Hamptons, Sophie watched the girl motion toward Jason and say something, but Julia shook her head and pointed to the door again. The girl sighed and moved toward the exit, as Julia rejoined her husband. “Excuse me, Mrs. Asquith,” Sophie said, cutting the dean’s wife off in mid-reminiscence, and heading toward the student, curious about what she had been saying about Jason.

The dean was now making some kind of speech. She should be over there, though she didn’t really want to be, she thought, eying the group, who were all being polite—even Penny Donovan—though many looked bored or uncomfortable. And now the coach was saying something. Julia clutched her husband’s arm and leaned her head on his shoulder.

It would have been nice if Jason had prepared her before throwing her into the lion’s den of college politicking. She’d much rather talk to people who weren’t professors or professors’ spouses. Sophie turned to the girl; she was curvy and pretty, with blond hair in a smooth cap to her shoulders. Her skin was very pale, and it looked like she had used foundation to try to block out a smattering of freckles over her nose. She wore a short plaid kilt that showed plump knees above argyle socks and loafers, all very collegiate in an old-fashioned sense.

“Hi there,” Sophie said as she approached. The girl had slowed as soon as Julia had joined Nuñez, and now lingered near the entrance. “Can I have a word with you?”

“Who are
you
?” the girl asked.

“My name is Sophie Taylor. I saw you gesturing toward Jason Murphy a moment ago. Were you here to talk to him?”

“Yeah. I’m in his Literary Migrations course.” Sophie must have looked blank, because the girl explained, “We’re examining the movement of literature in the English language to the Americas and other English-speaking nations.”

“Ah. Okay. What did you want to talk to him about?”

“Nothing important,” she said evasively.

Sophie wondered if she was personally interested in Jason. There must be dozens of college girls taken with him. He was good-looking, smart and charismatic. She’d have fallen for him hard at eighteen if he was
her
professor. “It looked like Julia wanted you to leave.”

“Yeah, she’s
way
protective of him, like it’s her job to screen all his students or something. She’s just jealous.”

Julia caught sight of them talking, and signaled Sophie to break away.

“What’s your name?” Sophie asked, turning instead toward the girl, her back to Julia.

“Tara Mitchells.”

“Tara, you can level with me. What
did
you want to talk to Jason about?”

She hesitated, her eyes narrowed, but then said, “I heard he might, like, lose his job over the grading thing. Some of us who take his classes wondered if we should start a petition to keep him. None of us want to see him go because of a stupid thing like Mac getting a better grade than he should have. I mean, so what if Jason—I mean Professor Murphy—gave him a better grade than he deserved?”

“But he wouldn’t do that,” Sophie insisted. “I’ve known Jason most of my life, and he would never do anything unethical. He’s gotten really proper since he was a teenager.”

“What do you mean, ‘
since he was a teenager’
? Did he do bad stuff back then?”

The girl had a doubting expression, and Sophie well remembered being that age. You never thought your teachers or elders did anything like what you did. “Nothing
too
bad,” she said, glancing over at him. “He drove too fast, drank a bit, and probably tried smoking cigarettes a couple times. Didn’t everyone?” She looked back to Tara. “Once he took a boat out when he wasn’t supposed to and it was reported stolen, but that was all cleared up.”

“Really?” she replied.

“He loves Cruickshank, and he loves teaching. He’d never do anything to jeopardize that.”

“Unless he didn’t know his actions would jeopardize anything, right?”

“I guess.” Sophie watched her. “So you’re in one of his classes? What is he like as an instructor?”

She shrugged. “He’s . . . uh . . . he’s okay, I guess.”

“Is he a good teacher?”

“Look, most professors are crap at teaching.” Her attention was taken by something across the room; the speeches were over and the group had broken up. “Oh, look,
Kimmy
is here.”

“Who is that?” Sophie asked, turning and following the other girl’s gaze.

“That’s Kimmy Gabrielson, Mac MacAlister’s biggest fangirl. And I do mean biggest in every sense.”

Sophie spotted a young African-American woman, heavyset and big bosomed, very pretty, with an angelic face: Cupid’s bow lips, twisted ombré curls drooping over creamy dark skin. Tara’s meangirl slight against Kimmy’s weight registered, and Sophie eyed Tara with distaste, then looked back at Kimmy. The young woman was watching Mac and Heck, who were
talking in the corner of the room. She approached them and held up a camera. Mac nodded and posed with the coach for a photo by a team sweater. “What’s that all about?”

“Kimmy keeps taking pictures and trying to get the school newspaper to print them, like Mac is the only athlete on the team, or something. He’s been suspended while the investigation is going on, and can’t even play! And, like, she’s his academic adviser! Can you believe it?” Tara glanced around the room, spotted Julia looking toward them, about to break away from her husband, and suddenly said, “I gotta go.” She sped through the doors and was gone.

The party broke up as the game was about to start. Mac and Heck left the room together, followed by Kimmy, and Penny trailed the other faculty and spouses, her shapeless jean skirt concealing any hint of her figure. Sophie joined Jason and Julia and her husband.

“I was
trying
to get rid of that girl,” Julia whispered. “I wish you hadn’t talked to her.”

“Tara Mitchells?”

“She’s a tricky specimen.”

“What do you mean?”

“She didn’t tell you? She considers herself the star reporter for the
Cruickshank Clarion
.
She’s
the one who broke the story about Jason and the grading scandal.”

Chapter 4

S
ophie spent the rest of the evening trying to decide if anything she had said was damaging to Jason, but all she had told the girl was that Jason would never do anything unethical and that he was a good man who loved Cruickshank. Nothing wrong in that.

The basketball game was a blowout, but unfortunately it favored the visitors, who whooped and hollered as they left the floor. Jason grumbled that it was because Mac wasn’t allowed to play. He was the star point guard, the one they relied on. Cruickshank Cruiser fans were in a subdued mood as they filed out of the brightly lit auditorium into the spacious lobby. Sophie still could not stop worrying and wondering if she should be confessing about her conversation with Tara. Cissy, Wally, Eli and Dana had been sitting further up in the stands than Jason, as a staff member, and Sophie as his date, so they all met up in the lobby.

“Girlfriend, I want my boots back,” Dana said, shuffling over to her. “How can you wear these Uggs? Ugh!”

Sophie laughed and tried to get the high-heeled boots off, but after hopping around on the hardwood floor for a few minutes, she said over the loud chatter of the visiting team’s fans who now filled the lobby, “Let’s go over to the chairs.” Sophie pointed to a row of blue fiberglass molded chairs bolted to the wall. “These things feel like they’re welded to my feet.”

“Great, your foot sweat in my boots.”

“I didn’t
ask
to borrow them,” Sophie said.

“They made you look more professional. Don’t be ungracious.”

Sophie tottered over to the chairs, followed by Dana.

“Oh, hey . . . I see someone I have to talk to,” she said. “I’ll be right back.” She headed off, still wearing the Uggs.

Sophie sat down, slung her purse onto the chair next to her and unbuckled one long boot as she tuned in to a conversation between a man and a woman, around the corner.

“Vince, they’re pressuring me for a statement and I don’t know what to say.”

Vince . . . why does the name ring a bell
, Sophie wondered as she worked on getting the boots off her swollen feet.
Oh, right! Vince Nomuro, the registrar
.

“Who are
they
?”

“The school paper, who else? It hasn’t hit the national news. Yet.”

“Say nothing; that’s the best strategy.”

His voice was calm, precise. Was he discussing the grading scandal, or was that too big a stretch?

“I
have
to say something! They keep implying it had to happen in our office,” the woman said. “I told that girl there are a dozen people who could have tampered with the
grades, but I don’t think she believed me. I know
I
didn’t do it. Did you?”

“What an awful thing to suggest!”

“Murphy says it wasn’t him, that he never gave Mac an A. I’m just sayin’ . . . if it wasn’t him, it wasn’t me, and it wasn’t you, who the hell
was
it?”

“Good God, Brenda, it could have been any one of a number of people: Paul, Julia, Heck . . . even the dean himself! Until an official body gets involved and investigates, keep your mouth shut.”

Brenda . . . that was the assistant registrar I had seen approach him earlier
, Sophie thought, pausing and listening rather than tugging on the boot.

“Well, jeez, Vince, I hate to keep you from something important, but I kind of thought the cheating thing that could taint our whole department was important enough to talk about. You’ve been avoiding me lately. When
are
we going to talk about it?”

“I’m trying to keep my eye on the dean,” Vince said, his voice holding tension. “I don’t trust him, not while he’s anywhere near the Board of Governors or alumni. He’s desperate for this thing to go away and not hurt fund-raising or his job.”

“He’s such a jerk,” she replied, her tone full of contempt. “He comes after me, and I’ll be telling the alumni association and anyone else who will listen about him and his girlfriend Sherri Shaw at the Marriott in Rochester last month.”

Sophie’s eyes widened; the dean had a girlfriend?

“If he comes after
me
, I’ll threaten to tell the association about Jeanette and her boy toy Paul,” Vince replied. “I think
that
would be more embarrassing to Asquith than his fling with Sherri.”

Brenda chuckled. And her voice got louder as she said, “What a pair!”

Vince Nomuro and the short, curly-haired young woman came around the corner, but Sophie had turned away, working on her boot as they passed. She looked up and watched them, pondering what she had overheard. What a hotbed of gossip this place turned out to be! She tried—and failed—to imagine either the dean or his elegant wife with randy younger bed partners. She was giggling to herself when Dana returned, tugging Kimmy Gabrielson by the sleeve.

“What are you laughing about?” Dana asked. “And really, do you need a helper to get those boots off?”

“Yes, please! I don’t know how you manage to get these off alone.”

“Who said I managed alone?” Dana said with an arched eyebrow. She glanced over her shoulder at Eli, who was watching her with a smile.

“You got them off all right earlier.”

“Yes, well, my feet are daintier than yours. Sophie, this is Kimmy Gabrielson, who works here at Cruickshank. She comes into the bookstore all the time. We’re in a book group together.”

“Hi,” Sophie said and held out her hand.

The other woman took her hand and shook, her palm slightly damp. “I saw you in the reception room. Dana says you’re with Jason Murphy, right?”

Kimmy’s voice was low and husky, not at all what Sophie had expected from someone with such a sweet youthful face and beautiful bow lips. “We’re old friends,” Sophie said, still not sure what their real relationship was. “You’re an academic adviser, right?”

She looked startled for one brief moment, her dark eyes wide, but then she nodded. “I am, to several students here. I saw you talking to Tara Mitchells; she’s the one who told
you that. I’ll bet she also told you I have the hots for Mac MacAlister, right? That girl . . . watch out for her.”

A second warning about Tara. Sophie’s stomach twisted as Dana pulled one boot off her foot and began working on the other one. “What should I be looking out for?”

“She’d make a great writer . . . for the
scandal
sheets. Tara is the worst kind of gossip, the kind who makes it into a job, not just a hobby.”

“Oh.”
Fudge.

Kimmy regarded her, a thoughtful look in her dark eyes. “I’ll bet she was there to pick up the dope on the grading scandal. That’s why Julia tried to get rid of her.” Kimmy held the long boots while Dana slipped off the Uggs and handed them to Sophie. Dana plunked down on a seat and began the process of wriggling her feet into the fashionable boots.

All she did was stand up for Jason, so she had nothing to worry about, Sophie told herself again. She pulled the Uggs on and gave a groan of contentment. “That feels so much better. How can you wear those torture devices, Dana?” Sophie asked.

“Beauty is pain, darling,” she said. “Now give me back my jacket.”

The exchanges made, they started across the cavernous lobby to rejoin their group, which was gathered by the doors ready to leave. As Dana sprinted ahead and threw herself into Eli’s arms, Sophie lingered behind and walked with Kimmy. “So you’d know better than anyone; is Mac smart enough to have gotten that A on his own?”

Kimmy cast her a sideways look. “I like the guy, but no way. He’s not that bright. I’ve spent a lot of time with him, and I know people are talking, but it’s because he is a sweet fellow. I’ve been trying to get him to change majors from business admin to something less challenging.”

“Like?”

“Sportscasting, something like that, at a college more suited to his abilities. He’s kinda dumb, but likable.”

Sophie was sure sports journalism students wouldn’t appreciate Kimmy’s assessment of their brains. “I’m naturally concerned for Jason. I don’t get the whole grading thing. Jason says he didn’t give Mac an A, but who else could have changed his grade in the computer?”

“Me, for one,” she said.

Sophie laughed out loud, more because she was startled by the other woman’s candor, than that she thought it was funny.

Kimmy halted her with a hand on her arm before they joined the others, and drew her away to a shadowy area between sconce lights along the curved brick internal wall. “You’re worried for Jason. I know him, but not well. He doesn’t seem the type who would cave to pressure. But if you’re interested, I’ll tell you; there is a finite number of people who could have done this.”

“Like who?”

Kimmy cocked her head to one side. “You’re not going to let it go, are you?” She shook her head, her spiral curls trembling. “Jason
is
the most likely, but Julia also could have done it. I could as well, because I have access to official grading programs. Vince, the registrar, and even Brenda the assistant registrar, I imagine. We all can access the CMS.”

“CMS?

“Content management system. I don’t know what internal safeguards Vince has in place, all I know is it’s password protected, but passwords are easy to figure out. There’s even software you can use.”

“Anyone else?”

She shrugged. “The dean?”

“Could Mac or the coach have done it?”

“Mac, no way. Students can’t get into the program.” Her expression turned doubtful. “I don’t
think
Heck could have done it. He wouldn’t know how and wouldn’t have access to the software. If both Julia and Jason are telling the truth, then the grade was changed after Jason entered it, but before Julia reviewed it.”

That was a telling point, one that she was sure had already occurred to both Julia and Jason. “I’ve heard of this stuff happening at a few other schools. How was it managed there?”

“Grade fixing? You’re probably thinking of the big scandal at UNC a few years back. That was different. There had been years—decades, even—of what are called paper courses, set up with few requirements and little oversight. Students barely had to hand in course work, and there were no actual classes. They got automatic As or Bs, or the coach told the instructor or professor what mark was needed to boost the student athlete’s overall average.”

“That didn’t happen here.”

“No.” Kimmy hesitated, but then said, “Okay, I can tell you’re worried about this, but Jason will weather the storm. If he didn’t do it, then the investigation will uncover who did, or at least a likely culprit. Don’t worry about your man; he’s going to be fine.”

Sophie smiled. “Thanks. You’re good at cheering a person up.” She could see why Kimmy would make a good adviser; she was intuitive and empathetic, not minimizing the source of worry, but not overstating the case, either. However, Julia had expressed concern, and she was closer to the problem. As they started back across the lobby toward the group, she asked, “Are you joining in on the Fall Fling Townwide Tea Party?”

“I am,” she said. “My book group is doing the tour. We just read the English translation of
The Tea Lords
, by Hella S. Haasse, about the Dutch tea trade. Do you read?”

“Not much. I’m more of an action person, you know? I like cookbooks, and I do read magazines.”

“That’s okay,” Kimmy said, patting her shoulder. “Not everyone likes the same things, right?”

Sophie was sure she didn’t mean it, but she could hear the pity in the other woman’s voice, much as there would be in her own toward someone who didn’t like to cook. They reached the group and joined up. Jason smiled down at her. “Now you look more like yourself,” he said, putting one arm around her shoulders. “Come on; let’s go have a coffee and I’ll fill you in on all the drama.”

*   *   *

T
he next morning, bright and early, Sophie was in the tearoom kitchen finishing up some dough, one for scones, another for cheese biscuits to go with the soup, and yet another cookie dough, which she was rolling into logs to be refrigerated and sliced as needed for fresh-baked cookies. On the big six-burner professional stove were two pots of stock, one for the cream soup of the day, a vegetable chowder, and another for the clear soup, her own take on a minestrone.

Laverne let herself in the back door and set her tote bag down on one of the chairs by the small table close to the window. As she unwound a hand-knit variegated scarf from around her neck, she said, “You’ve been busy. Everything smells so good!”

Sophie hugged her carefully, keeping her wet hands away from her godmother’s tidy outfit, a dark skirt and maroon blouse. “I’m enjoying this so much. It’s like I have time to think and innovate while I cook. I didn’t have that luxury at either In Fashion or Bartleby’s.”

As Laverne got a cup of tea and sat down for a morning tea biscuit, Sophie told her about what was going on at the
university, and how it impacted Jason. She and Jason went to a café and had a long talk after the game. He admitted he hadn’t told her what was going on because he knew how upset she was about her grandmother’s health scare. “He’s been dealing with it all on his own; he hasn’t even told his folks yet!”

“That poor boy,” Laverne said. “You know, Eli’s younger sister works at Cruikshank in the admissions office.”