Stabbed in the Tart by Carol E. Ayer

Author:Carol E. Ayer [Ayer, Carol E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Epicenter Press Inc.
Published: 2021-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 9

The next morning, I sipped my usual decaf coffee and made scrambled eggs with toast. I had a quick shower, dressed in jeans and a silky blouse, and tied my hair back in a braid. After applying lipstick and mascara, I checked my phone and was stunned to find I had several voice mails and emails from reporters. What the heck? The messages all asked about my “college relationship” with Edward. I deleted them all.

When I left the house ten minutes later, a woman came up to me on the driveway. She thrust her phone in my face.

“Kayla Jeffries? Toni LaValle from The Ocean County Tribune.”

“Please go away. You’re on private property.”

“You had a relationship with Edward Winthrop in college. What was he like back then? How did the two of you get along? Who broke up with whom? What happened when you saw him again at The Countryside Inn?”

Remembering what Dad and I had practiced, I said as calmly as I could, “I’m very sorry about Edward Winthrop’s death. But I had nothing to do with it. Yes, I was in a college class with him, but we had no interaction, let alone a relationship. I hope his killer is caught soon. Thank you.”

Before Toni could ask more questions, I walked around her, unlocked the mini-van, got in, and sped off.

Heart thumping from the encounter, I checked the gas gauge. Nearly empty. I swung into a station just outside Seaside Shores. As I topped off the tank, I looked up at the sky, trying to calm my nerves. It was perfectly clear and would be a nice day to get some exercise on the coastal path. Hopefully, I could get in a walk soon; it would be good for my stress level, which was rising rapidly.

I picked up Dad at his hotel and told him about the messages from the reporters and the in-person visit from Toni LaValle.

“It sounds like you handled everything exactly right.”

“Thanks. I’m glad we talked over what I would say. I was ready.”

We drove straight-through, arriving at UC Springvale in under three hours. Finding a parking lot, I slid into a space. Dad and I went to the machine and paid for sixty minutes.

A wave of nostalgia hit me as we made it onto the campus. I hadn’t been especially social in college, no surprise there, but I’d enjoyed my classes. At the time, I rented a small studio on the second floor of a building within walking distance of the university. As tiny as the apartment was, I’d adored my first grown-up home. I spent as much time there as possible, reading and falling in love with the books assigned for my literature classes.

Dad and I headed to Taylor Hall, where I remembered the English department was located. We found out from the office receptionist that Twining was currently finishing up a seminar on the Brontës in Lecture Hall B.

Dad and I sneaked into the lecture hall and took seats in the back. Twining was a charismatic teacher, and the subject matter appealed to me.

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