40
“Girl, have you heard any more about the shooting on Saturday? I still can’t get a grasp that some lunatic out of the crowd shot one of our cheerleaders.”
“Phyllis, it’s crazy,” Sheila said. “The cops have been buzzin’ around here like vultures like we’re supposed to know who tried to kill that student. They look like ants at a picnic crawling everywhere, looking for I don’t know what.”
“What is Victor saying?”
“Victor? Girl, I haven’t seen him all morning. It’s ten o’clock; he’s usually here by now. Must be running late. He and his wife must be on the outs because he keeps stopping by.”
“Sheila, I don’t know when you’re going to tell Victor about you and Jamal getting married because he’s not going to be too happy about some other dude up in the place he pays for. You’re not only going to be on the street; he might just fire your ass.”
“I haven’t thought it through yet. Phyllis, girl, Victor stopped by Saturday night, and he was some kind of weird. Wanted to be all up in my business…throwing himself all over me—forceful like. I couldn’t roll with him because Jamal was due to come over at any minute.”
“What did you do?”
“I faked like I wasn’t feeling well, but he insisted on laying there with me. I would’ve been up the creek if I hadn’t gotten an opportunity to text Jamal and tell him to hold off for a while.”
“If you’re not careful, you’re going to be hanging by the neck in Victor’s leather noose,” Phyllis said. “I don’t know what it is about that man you want because I don’t trust him.”
“Victor was my ticket out of the dump where I used to live. Once you give in and begin reaping the benefits, it’s hard to say no. Victor can sex me as good as any twenty-something, but my heart belongs to Jamal. I have a man who loves me for me, and I can’t wait until Jamal and I are married this weekend at the Justice of the Peace. We applied for the license and did our blood work last week. I should receive the results of my test today.”
“That’s cool…you and Jamal are getting married. It’s about time you made a respectable woman of yourself. When are you going to tell Victor?”
“I really have done a lot of soul searching about my life, Phyllis, and it’s thanks to you that I’m choosing to fly right. Jamal has been my man for a long time. We have what you call an open relationship, and yes, he knows all about Victor,” Sheila lied. “We talked into the wee hours of the night last week about where we were going with our lives and decided right then and there that we would get married. I don’t need all the fanfare that comes with having a wedding; Jamal and I decided that the time was now to settle down and live our lives as husband and wife. I’ve made up my mind that I’m going to tell Victor about Jamal when he comes in.”
“Wow, you’ve thought this all out. If you need a witness, call me. Sister got your back.”
“Thanks, Phyllis. I appreciate it. Let me go; the police have returned.”
“All right. Love you, Sheila.”
“Love you back.”
“Yes, may I help you?” Sheila asked, putting down the telephone.
“Yes, I’m Detective Marshall, looking for Mr. Christianson.” Detective Marshall flashed his badge.
“He hasn’t come in yet,” Sheila replied.
“What time will he be in today?”
“I expect him any time. He hasn’t called, so I assume he’s running behind schedule. Is there something I can help you with?”
“It’s urgent that I speak to him,” Detective Marshall said, peering into the empty office with the door marked DIRECTOR. In the meantime, I’m going to confiscate his computer.”
Sheila followed him with her eyes, getting up from her desk to see what he actually planned to do in Victor’s office. “Does this have something to do with the shooting on Saturday?”
Marshall looked at Sheila. He smiled. Sheila looked at Marshall for the first time. He might be a catch for Phyllis. He was tall, medium build, had dimples on both sides of his face, a little on the old side, but Phyllis seemed to like older men. Sheila made a mental note to remind herself to call Phyllis—that was until she saw what appeared to be a wedding band wrapped around his ring finger.
“Yes, it does,” Marshall said. “I was hoping Mr. Christianson could give me some information about the victim in his capacity as Director of Admissions.”
“There are others in the office who could assist you, sir. Also, you may want to speak with our Vice Chancellor for Student Affairs. I’m not sure you have authority to take Mr. Christianson’s computer.”
“My badge says I have every authority. Thank you, Miss…”
“Sheila Atkins and the future Mrs. Sheila Billops.” Sheila smiled. “Detective Marshall, do you have a business card on you so I can have Mr. Christianson call you?” Sheila winked.
Detective Marshall gave Sheila a quick once over. He pulled his business card from his holder and placed it in Sheila’s hand. “Miss Atkins soon to be Mrs. Billops, can you tell me if Mr. Christianson has been acting strange in the past week or so?”
Sheila gave Marshall her serious look and pretended to ponder the question. She didn’t relish the position she now found herself in. She folded her hands together and let out a sigh.
“Well?” Marshall asked, his patience getting thin.
“Now that I think about it, he kept leaving the office like he was on some secret mission. He was clearly agitated about something, but I have no earthly idea what it could’ve been. A couple of times he slammed the door…”
“Was slamming the door uncharacteristic of Mr. Christianson?”
“Well, yes. He is pretty mild-mannered.”
“Ms. Atkins, someone let it slip that you and Mr. Christianson might have…” Marshall coughed. “…might have been something other than boss and subordinate.”
“And what are you implying by that, Detective Marshall?” Sheila asked, the smile on her face evaporating.
“Just what you interpreted it to mean. However, if I need to spell it out for you…you and Mr. Christianson are having an affair. I wonder if your future husband, Mr. Billops, knows you’re leading a double life,” Marshall stated sarcastically.
“Mr. Billops is my concern, not yours.” Sheila began to tap her toe on the floor and her nostrils began to flare. Suddenly, Detective Marshall no longer looked good to her.
“When was the last time you saw Mr. Christianson?”
Sheila turned away and began to tap her fingers on her desk. “I don’t remember exactly. I’m sure it was on Friday at work.”
“Such a small thing to remember; especially since Friday was only two days ago. Did you see him over the weekend, perhaps at the football game?”
“No,” Sheila answered fast. “I didn’t even go to the game. I was home all day.”
Marshall wrinkled his face and gave Sheila a look that said she was lying. “I’ll let you simmer on that some more, Ms. Atkins, but as soon as Mr. Christianson comes in, please have him call me.”
Sheila stared straight into Marshall’s eyes. “I’ll do just that,” Sheila said flatly. She watched as Marshall walked out of the office, and then grabbed the phone to call Phyllis, but not before she canvassed the room to see if she could identify her Judas.
SHEILA PUT THE PHONE IN ITS CRADLE AND PONDERED DETECTIVE Marshall’s questions. It was becoming clearer by the moment that Victor was connected somehow to the shooting on Saturday. Then she thought about the gun Victor had conveniently dropped off at her house, almost immediately after the incident on campus, but unless asked, she was going to stay out of the spotlight, keep her mouth shut, and let the police handle their business. If the police investigation should lead them to the piece of hardware she had conveniently stored away in her house not realizing that it might have been connected to their investigation of Victor, she’d be more than happy to turn it over—but not a minute sooner.