“It is. Easton went to Oberlin when he was still Douglas Gregory Williams—and he was only there for a year. He didn’t graduate.”
“Wow.” I pulled my legs up underneath me. “Do you know why he left?”
“Does a bear have a hairy butt?” she chortled. “Yes, I know.”
A goofy Lise reminded me of the eighteen-year-old girl from northern Maine I’d met in college.
“So?” I prompted.
“Scandal,” she crowed. “Sex, drugs and rock and roll.”
“What?”
“Hang on a sec,” she said. “Yes, babe,” I heard her say. “I’d love a cup.” Then she was back again. “Okay, so there weren’t any drugs that I heard about, and it was classical music, not rock and roll, but the sex part definitely happened.”
“Do I want to hear this, Lise?” I asked, wishing I had a big cup of coffee myself.
She laughed. “Don’t worry. I don’t have any gory details.”
“What do you have?” I heard her take a slurp of coffee before she answered.
“Two things. First of all, Easton was struggling in his composition classes, and then suddenly he got very, very good.”
“He was cheating?”
“That’s the general consensus among people I talked to.”
I stretched both arms over my head. “He could have been homesick or just needed time to adjust to the program.”
“Maybe. But no one seems to think that was it. Apparently he didn’t go from good to better; he went from mediocre to great.” I heard more coffee-slurping sounds.
“So was he kicked out for cheating?” I asked.
“No,” Lise said. “There was a fair amount of talk and a lot of suspicion, but no proof.”
“So, what’s the sex part?”
Hercules wandered over. I stretched my hand down to pet him.
“Easton took some pictures of another student in the program—a female student. Now, by today’s standards they’re pretty tame, but then . . .”
“I get it,” I said.
“And there was some suggestion that he’d pressured the young woman.”
“Is that why he left Oberlin?” Herc was purring.
“Indirectly. The young woman came from a wealthy family. Money seems to have made the entire thing and Easton go away.”
“Paid off or run off?” I asked.
“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Lise said, yawning loudly in my ear. “I have to go to bed. But there’s one more thing. The young woman, the one Easton took the pictures of? I have her number. Do you want it?”
“Yes,” I said, scrambling out of the chair. “Let me grab a pencil.” I wrote down the woman’s name, Phoebe Michaels, and her number, thanked Lise profusely, reminding her that I owed her, and said good-bye.
Hercules had been waiting patiently for me. I picked him up and went into the kitchen. Lise had pretty much confirmed Ruby’s assessment of Easton’s character.
I was curious about Violet, and did some fast calculations. She could have been at Oberlin at the same time as Easton. Why hadn’t she said anything? She had to have recognized Easton. Could she have killed him? What reason would she have? It made about as much sense as Oren being involved.
“So far my choices are Oren or Violet,” I said to Hercules. “I don’t like either one.”
There was a knock at the door. I set Hercules down and went to see who it was.
Abigail stood on my back stoop, holding a cardboard box. “Did I catch you at a bad time?” she asked.
“No,” I said. “I was just getting a cup of coffee. Come in. Can I get you a cup?”
“Thanks, Kathleen, but I can’t stay. I just wanted to show you these books.” She followed me into the kitchen and set the box on the table. “I was sorting more things for the yard sale yesterday.” She opened the flaps of the box. “I found these and I didn’t want to leave them at the library so I brought them home.”
I picked up the top volume, a copy of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland in excellent condition.
“That’s a first edition,” Abigail said.
I almost dropped the book. “Are you serious? Do you know what this could be worth?”
She nodded. “I do now. I spent some time online last night, researching prices.” She gestured to the box. “There’s several thousand dollars’ worth of books in just that box. I didn’t feel right about leaving them at the library. I hope that’s okay.”
“It’s very okay,” I said. “Thank you. The board will have to have all the books valued, but this is going to be a big boost to the book-buying budget.”
“I’m so glad,” Abigail said.
“Where do you think they came from?” I picked up Alice again, then wondered if I should be handling the book.
“I suppose they could have been part of the library’s collection, but I’m guessing they were donated by someone who didn’t know what they had.”
I pointed to the side of the box where it looked like a chicken had been practicing hieroglyphics with a Sharpie. “Your secret code?” I asked.
Abigail smiled. “I didn’t want anyone to know what was in the box and I didn’t want to mix up the books with the others for the sale. It seems kind of silly now.”
“I don’t think so,” I said. An idea was beginning to tickle the back of my mind. “I have a meeting with Everett on Monday,” I said. “I’ll show him these and he can arrange to have them appraised and sold.”
“If I find anything else, I’ll let you know,” she promised.
I walked her to the back door. “Thanks,” I said. “I have a wish list of kid’s books I’ve been itching to order, and now it looks like I’ll be able to.”
Abigail smiled. “See you tomorrow,” she said.
Hercules, who had disappeared when Abigail knocked, came back to the kitchen. “You may be a genius,” I told him. “Your brother, too.”
He ducked his head. It may have been modesty or, more likely, he’d noticed a couple of stinky-cracker crumbs on the floor.
I pointed at him. “Don’t move.” The piece of paper Hercules had taken from Oren’s was on my dresser. So was the scrap Owen had swiped out of Rebecca’s recycling bin. I grabbed both of them.
Hercules was waiting by the table. I showed him the piece of paper he’d found last night. “You see this?” I asked. “I think it’s code. Only instead of being letters and words I think it’s music.” Hercules studied the paper as if he was trying to decide if he agreed with me.
“See this?” I held out the sheet music Owen had pilfered the other day. “Gregor Easton wrote that.” I pointed to the composer’s name in the top corner of the paper. “At least he’s supposed to have written it, but look at the first line of music, and then look at the first line of the other page. The pattern’s the same.”
Herc actually looked from one sheet of paper to the other. I sat down, laying both bits of paper on the table. My mind was throwing out ideas faster than I could sort them into sense.
“Lise said Easton was suspected of cheating. His music went from nothing to spectacular almost overnight.” I tapped my nails on the tabletop. “Oren didn’t finish university because of some kind of breakdown. What if he was at Oberlin, too? What if Easton’s music was really Oren’s?”
There was a sour taste in the back of my throat. If Easton had stolen Oren’s music I’d just come up with a motive for him to want the conductor dead. I got up and had a glass of water instead of more coffee. Phoebe Michaels’s phone number was still sitting on the counter. She’d been there at Oberlin with Easton—actually Williams—and Violet. Maybe she could give me some answers.
I looked at the clock. It wasn’t too early to call anymore. I picked up the number. “What do I say to her?” I asked Hercules. He was busy washing his face and had no suggestions.
Then I thought of my dad. “When all else fails, Katie, just tell the truth,” he liked to say. Before I could talk myself out of it I went into the living room, picked up the receiver and punched in the number.