Saving Face (Mount Faith Series: Book 1) Read online

  "Not for me," Harry said, "but you could teach though. You like to lecture the staff about safety and health."

  "That's right," Natasha said, "I think I'd be a teacher if I wasn't so happy being a detective."

  "Alright," Harry said looking at his computer screen, "I am on the Mount Faith University's site. Lets compare info when we are done."

  Natasha nodded. When Harry started a new case he didn't like to waste time chit chatting.

  They gathered information, separately, often times going to the main office when their ancient printer stopped working after their attempts to clear a paper jam. Natasha wrote up a purchase request form for a new printer once more. Purchase requests usually went at a snail’s pace. If she tendered one now they may get it next year. Detectives like her and Harry often work on sensitive information that not even their colleagues could see. They needed their own printer.

  "Okay," Harry said, a big pile of papers in front of him.

  Natasha was still collating her big pile. "Go ahead—talk," she said stapling some pieces together, "I'm listening."

  "Mount Faith University is a private Christian university located in Malvern St. Elizabeth. Founded in 1925, by a group of Christian Sabbatharian denominations."

  "What does that mean?" Natasha asked looking up curiously.

  "It means the Methodists, Baptists, Lutherans, Adventists that worship on Saturday came together to finance a school." Harry said. "They have a board of trustees that includes 12 members, mostly church representatives and influential community members. The board of trustees is responsible for the selection of the president. They also determine what the major goals of the university should be and they approve the policies and procedures for implementation of such goals. They also review and approve the operating and capital budget of the University."

  He paused and scratched his head. "They sound important. The president of the school has to answer to them on several matters. Here are their pictures." He passed some papers over to Natasha.

  Natasha looked it over. "Why did you circle this guy here? The one that looks like an older version of Steve Urkel."

  Harry laughed. "That's D. M. Carter. He wields the most power on the board. He is chairman."

  Natasha nodded. "Interesting…looks like a nerd to me. What doe's the D. stand for, Dufus?"

  "No," Harry shook his head, "apparently it's Daryl. I wonder why he doesn't want to use the name Daryl. That does not sound bad. I like it, actually. Anyway," Harry said impatiently, "the school has some very influential alumni and the financial records are not available to the public."

  Natasha nodded. "It's a rich school though. They have facilities up there in the hills that even elite universities would envy."

  "Which brings us to the deceased," Harry said picking up another sheet of paper. "The only thing we know about him is that he is the Superintendent's uncle. That he is the boss's uncle is not nearly enough information to go on. We need to know why someone would want to kill him."

  Natasha finished collating her papers and dragged out a single sheet. "I couldn't get much information about him. According to the constabulary network there were three traffic tickets attached to his vehicle. Apparently, a young male age 27, name Kelvin Hart, was driving it when he accrued the tickets."

  "Who is that?" Harry frowned.

  "Don't know," Natasha said shrugging, "he had no children. He had a widow though, one Miranda Carlisle."

  "I already have widow on the top of my list of potential suspects," said Harry. "What do we know about her?"

  Natasha rummaged through her papers and read, "this was taken from the Jamaica Gleaner, dated two years ago, Dr. Miranda Carlisle, nee Porter , is awarded an order of distinction by the Governor General of Jamaica for her work with plants. Apparently, she is a botanist, and a very good one."

  "She did it." Harry said, "I don't see why we should waste our time going up to the school. We should just go question her and bring her in."

  "What would be the motive?" Natasha frowned. "And if the ‘Supe' had suspected her, don't you think he would have said something? She's his aunt-in-law."

  "But the ‘Supe' isn't thinking clearly," Harry said, "and the motives can range from insurance, to sheer greed to jealousy."

  Natasha frowned. "Are you saying, Detective, that the very proper and straitlaced Dr. Miranda Carlisle would kill her very proper and upstanding husband because he cheated on her?"

  Harry shrugged. "Why not?"

  "Nah," Natasha shook her head. "What about her status as the president's wife? Surely that had to come with some amount of prestige, no matter what he was doing behind her back."

  "Still a possibility," Harry said. "I think we should investigate that angle, see if he cheated on his wife. I don't see why it is not a possibility. The man was handsome, suave, and debonair. All of those female lecturers and nubile young students must have found him irresistible."

  Natasha shook her head again.

  "Look at his picture." Harry carried it over to her. "Look on his features. He is hot, as you females would say."

  Natasha looked on the picture. "Yes he does have a certain appeal…broad forehead, big soulful brown eyes…looks like he worked out too. Maybe we could find out more about his habits from his secretary."

  "She is my second suspect," Harry said going back over to his desk.

  "Ooh, la la." Natasha rubbed her eyes. "Motive?"

  "She could have fed him potassium daily," Harry said. "She had access."

  "But what would be the motive?" Natasha asked impatiently.

  "Well, Harry took the pen and tapped his forehead. " Her husband is D.M. Carter. Maybe she wanted him to leave his wife and be with her."

  "Far fetched," Natasha frowned, "what's the secretaries name?"

  "Anne Carter, 47 years old…doesn't look bad at all." Harry responded. "Her picture is here." He threw it over the desk. It landed on the floor.

  "Lazy." Natasha said frowning. She took it up and then gasped, "I know her."

  "You do?" Harry said excitedly.

  "Duh," Natasha said, "this is Sister Anne Fowler."

  Natasha looked at her fine boned features fondly. She had corkscrew curly hair, which was so huge around her piquant face. She looked like she was drowning under a mop. She had always thought Anne Fowler was gorgeous, but her eyes always looked sad.

  "I think she was once called Annette. She used to go to my mother’s church and then got married to this rich banker guy, which I now know is D.M. Carter. She moved out of the district after she got married. Man, she could sing."

  "Why'd she change her name?" Harry asked suspiciously.

  Natasha shrugged. "At home everybody calls me Bugsy. I think a few people in my district know my real name. Anne is the shortened form of Annette."

  "Okay," Harry said, "but she's still number two on my list."

  Natasha sighed. "Who else is on this list?"

  "The Interim President, Ryan Bancroft. He stands to benefit the most from the president's death. He was serving as vice president for 2 years. Before that, he was the VP for Academic Affairs for eight years. He's been at that school for 10 years. Maybe he thought it was time he got rid of the top competition. He has a doctorate in neurobiology. That sounds like somebody who would know how to induce a secret heart attack."

  Natasha nodded. "You have a point there. I've seen him and his wife on TV. Isn't his wife the lady that established the infirmary in the hills where they give full service to old unfortunate people? She looks so sweet and has a gentle air about her. She can't be married to a killer."

  Harry snorted. "Stop the romance, Rowe, and think with your brain. One of these pillars of society murdered the superintendent's uncle."

  "What about the other candidates for the post?" Natasha asked, "Shouldn't they be suspects too, just like Dr. Bancroft?"

  "Well," Harry said, "give me an hour. I need to find out who they are. I hope the ‘Supe' has connections so that we can build a file on
them."

  He got up and headed for Superintendent Greyson's office.

  Natasha poured over her papers on the university. A secret part of her was happy that she was going to experience what it was like to go to Mount Faith University. It had always stuck in her craw that she didn't go there because of financial constraints. Now she would actually go and experience what it was like to walk on their exotic grounds and sit in their lecture halls and breathe in the air and experience what an elite school was like, and of course, do some detective work.

  She dug out a mirror from her drawer and looked in it. She was just twenty-seven, surely nobody would suspect her for not looking like a student.

  She smoothed her brow and puffed out her cheek. She could act like a girl fresh out of high school, if it was required.

  Hopefully, this assignment would not require her to do something so drastic. She had always acted older than her age even when she was younger.

  "Stop titivating Rowe," Harry said coming back into the office. "I have information."

  "I wasn't titivating," Natasha said resentfully, "just checking that I still look young enough for university."

  "Don't worry," Harry said cheerfully, "you can mingle with the best of those young women. You still look good. When I was first assigned to you, I went home complaining to my wife that they partnered me with a kid."

  Natasha gasped. "How dare you Harry Campbell? You are only just thirteen years my senior. I am no kid. No wonder Kim grins every time I stop over your house. She must be remembering that silly conversation."

  Harry snickered. "No she's grinning because her brother, Shorter, has asked us to put in a good word for him to you."

  "Oh no, not Shorter," Natasha said quickly. "Keep the good word. Not interested."

  "He's up for promotion to Corporal," Harry said helpfully.

  "He could be up for promotion to Commissioner," Natasha said naming the highest rank, "unfortunately for him, I don't date men just because of their rank…and I definitely don't date men who are shorter than I am. Shorter is aptly named and in case you didn't realize it, I tower over him. I am 5 ft 9. He's what, 5, 5?"

  "That's not too short." Harry said laughing and slapping his leg. "Besides, Shorter is attracted to women who are taller."

  Natasha rolled her eyes. "What's the information you have there?"

  "The other three candidates for president." Harry handed the papers to her. "Candidate one, is one Taj Jackson. He's a..."

  "Hot, hot, hot, guy," Natasha completed before Harry could say anything more.

  "Don't drool on the paper." Harry said warningly. "This candidate is supposed to be heading up a research and treatment psychiatry center. He is also doing a few lectures."

  "He couldn't be a suspect," Natasha said, "he's too hot."

  "I am doubting he's a suspect," said Harry, "but not because he's ‘hot’, according to you. He was in Florida when Dr. Carlisle died and he's pretty young. I have no idea why the board asked him to consider the presidency and that makes me suspicious."

  Natasha grinned and looked down at the picture again. "He could be a model. See that intense sultry stare?"

  "He could be related to Ryan Bancroft." Harry said bluntly, "look at his mouth and his eyes. They are almost identical. There is something not quite right here. Is he a relative of Bancroft? Did Bancroft suggest him for presidency knowing he would have one less person to compete against?"

  Natasha glanced at the picture of Ryan Bancroft then back to Taj Jackson's. "They do resemble a bit. Taj is many more times handsome though."

  "Find out what's the connection," Harry said.

  "With all pleasure," Natasha licked her lips obscenely.

  Harry laughed. "Women! The other two candidates are: Dr. Akheim Winter, 42 years old. He's VP for student services…"

  He handed Natasha a photo, she looked on it, reluctantly putting down the photo of Taj Jackson.

  "I don't think Winter is going to get it," Harry said contemplatively. "There is a rumor that he got a student pregnant. That is a strike against him. Apparently, they only hire presidents who are above reproach, as would most universities and getting a student pregnant is a no-no. The next candidate is Dr. Anita Parkinson, 40 years old." He handed the photo to Natasha. "She is VP for Academic Affairs."

  "She's pretty," Natasha said, "maybe she got close to the old president intimately and then poisoned him with potassium."

  Harry shrugged. "According to Greyson's snitch at the university there is a rumor that she's a lesbian."

  Natasha gasped. "Wow, that can't be true. Isn't this a Christian university that we are talking about?"

  Harry gathered the papers. "You know we don't deal with rumors or assumptions. We are going to have to investigate every one of these people and check them out thoroughly. We'll need warrants for bank accounts and house searches. We will also need to find out what their family background is like. We have a long couple of months ahead of us. Are you up for it?"

  Natasha grinned. "This certainly feels more like what I was expecting when I got promoted to detective two years ago."

  "Well get cracking then," Harry said. "By the end of next week we should have gathered all the information there is to know about these people before we enroll as students at the school and meet them face to face."

  Chapter Three

  "Remind me again why I decided to come back to Jamaica." Taj Jackson was talking to Shemar Kerr, his friend and confidante.

  "You said you wanted to start up that Psychiatry Center, and of course there is that president position." Shemar recited dutifully. He was in the gym that he owned in Mandeville working out in the early hours of the morning. When Taj called, he had not been surprised. Today was supposed to be Taj's first day as an official lecturer.

  "And why do I want to start up a new center, or even be president?" Taj asked. He had Shemar on speakerphone and was fixing his tie.

  Shemar chuckled. "Wasn't it the board that contacted you and suggested that you make yourself available for the position?"

  Taj frowned. "And that has been troubling me for a while. Why would they have contacted me? I have no experience in school administration. It has been only two years since I finished residency and have been working at the Behavioral Center. Shemar, something just does not add up."

  "Are you doubting yourself Taj?" Shemar asked panting. He was on the treadmill jogging.

  "Not doubting myself," Taj said running a comb through his hair, "just curious as to how they knew about me. Two weeks ago I went to a senior staff meeting with the current residing president and I could not help but feel as if I shouldn't be there. He is seriously presidential. He knows everybody. The whole thing just seems tailor-made for him. Why don't they just give him the job and be done with this whole process?"

  "April and I are glad you are here," Shemar said. "Think about the weekends. We can all hang out, or you and I can go and take in a cricket match now and again."

  Taj sighed. "I am glad to be in Jamaica and relatively close to you guys. I know I am being fanciful but I can't shake the feeling that something is not right."

  When Shemar hung up Taj walked slowly out of the house that had been assigned to him. He had been quite surprised that the university had extensive staff housing, about one hundred and twenty tastefully designed houses in what was called Mount Faith Drive.

  It was a whole community of faculty and staff and their families. Some staff members had opted out of living in such close proximity to their colleagues so it had not been hard for Taj to get a four bedroom tastefully furnished house all by himself in what was loosely known as Faculty Boulevard. Staff owned most of the houses on this boulevard. A retired professor who no longer lived in Jamaica owned his house.

  When he had arrived on the quiet street lined off with weeping willow trees, he had realized that the school was seriously wealthy. He walked slowly to the rented car and made a mental note to go get himself a new car.

  He had been in Jamaic
a just three weeks but he wanted his own car. He could walk over to the school, it wasn't far from the housing development, but he preferred to drive because he had a lot of books and paraphernalia.

  The building for the Psychiatry Center was under renovation. He had outlined his plans already and only needed to present it to the interim president, who had scheduled the presentation for tomorrow morning at nine.

  Taj drove to the Social Science center and parked. It was almost six-thirty and the fog was still heavy on the mountains surrounding the school. He stepped out of the car and headed toward the building. It was seriously nippy. He was extremely grateful that he was wearing a jacket and even then, he could feel the freezer-like air wafting its way to his skin.

  When he stepped into the building he looked around. The lobby area was covered in a dark maroon colored carpet. There was a receptionist area and a sort of lounge area where students could wait between classes. He walked toward his office at the far end of a very long hallway, which contained several small classrooms. From his tour some weeks ago he had learned that two stories above were several sound proofed lecture theatres and in the basement area were several well-equipped laboratories.

  He entered the area where his office was. He shared a circular space with five other offices and also shared a common secretary with the other professors who worked in Psychiatry Department.

  They were also going to be working with him on a rotational basis in the new Psychiatry center. He would have to meet with them and at least four other psychologists later in the week, to discuss the rosters and schedules.

  His first official day of academia.

  He sighed and let himself into the office marked T. Jackson and put down his books and briefcase. He had two classes today, an eight o'clock class in Introduction To Clinical Psychiatry. At one o'clock, he had an Anatomy and Physiology class with undergraduates. Why had he volunteered to teach that class? He had no time for undergraduates, and had the option of saying no.

  He sat in his plush leather chair and looked at his highly polished empty desk. He was reluctant to personalize the desk in anyway. Pretty soon, after this semester, he would be moving office over to the Psychiatry center, or to the president's office. After two years, he would evaluate his life and determine where to go next.