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“No.”
“Did she indicate whether this person was a man or a woman?”
Amy shook her head, looking miserable.
“What time was this?”
“Like I told the police, I don’t remember exactly, but I’m thinking it was around nine-thirty.”
At nine-thirty Stacy had been deep into her research paper. Her sister Jane had called; they’d chatted for about twenty minutes about the baby, the amazing little Apple A
“Are you certain she didn’t say anything else? Anything at all?”
“No. Now I wish…if only I’d-” Amy’s words broke on a sob.
Ella turned to Stacy, face red. “How do you know so much?”
Stacy explained about waking to what she thought were gunshots and going to investigate. “I found her. And Beth.”
“You used to be a cop, right?”
“I used to be, yes.”
“And now you’re playing cop? Reliving your glory days?”
The accusation in the other woman’s words took her by surprise. “Hardly. To the police Cassie’s just another victim. She was much more than that to me. I intend to make certain whoever did this doesn’t get away with it.”
“Her murder had nothing to do with role-playing games!”
“How do you know?”
“Everybody’s always pointing fingers at us.” Ella’s voice shook. “Like role-playing games turn kids into zombies or killing machines. It’s stupid. You’d do better to talk to that freak Bobby Gautreaux.”
Stacy frowned. “Do I know him?”
“Probably not.” Magda was hugging herself and rocking back and forth. “He and Cassie dated last year. She broke up with him. He didn’t take it well.”
Ella looked at Magda. “Didn’t take it well? At first he threatened to kill himself. Then he threatened to kill her!”
“But that was last year,” Amy whispered. “Surely, that threat was made in the heat of the moment.”
“Don’t you remember what she told us a couple weeks ago?” Ella asked. “She thought he’d been following her.”
Amy’s eyes widened. “Oh, my God, I’d forgotten.”
“Me, too,” Magda admitted. “What do we do now?”
They turned to her, three young women whose lives had just taken an irrevocable turn. One precipitated by a dose of very ugly realism.
“What do you think?” Magda asked, voice shaking.
That this changed everything. “You have to call the police and tell them exactly what you told me. Do it right away.”
“But Bobby really loved her,” Amy said. “He wouldn’t hurt her. He cried when she ended it. He-”
Stacy cut her off as gently as possible. “Believe it or not, as many murderers are motivated by love as by hate. Maybe more. Statistically, more men kill than women, and in cases of domestic violence, women are almost always the victim. In addition, more men stalk their previous partners and have restraining orders filed against them.”
“You think Bobby’s been stalking her? But why wait a year before-” She choked on the words, obviously unable to bring herself to say them.
But they hung heavily in the air.
Before killing her.
“Some of these guys are mindless brutes who strike immediately. Others think it through, lying in wait for the right moment. They refuse to let go of their fury. If he was stalking her, Bobby Gautreaux would fall into the latter category.”
“I feel sick,” Magda moaned, dropping her head into her hands.
Amy leaned close and gently rubbed her friend’s back. “It’s going to be okay.”
But of course it wasn’t. And they all knew it.
“Where can I find this Bobby Gautreaux?” Stacy asked.
“He’s an engineering student,” Ella offered.
“I think he lived in one of the dorms,” Amy said. “At least he did last year.”
“Are you certain he’s still a UNO student?” Stacy asked.
“I’ve seen him around campus this year,” Amy said. “Just the other day, in fact. Here, in the UC.”
Stacy stood and started packing up her things. “Call Detective Malone. Tell him what you told me.”
“What are you going to do?” Magda asked.
“I’m going to see if I can find Bobby Gautreaux. I want to ask him a few questions before the police do.”
“About White Rabbit?” Ella asked, an edge in her voice.
“Among other things.” Stacy hefted her backpack to her shoulder.
Ella followed her to her feet. “Drop the gaming angle. It’s a dead end.”
She found it odd that one of Cassie’s supposedly good friends seemed more concerned about gaming’s reputation than catching her friend’s killer. Stacy met the other woman’s gaze directly. “It may be. But Cassie’s dead. And I’m not dropping anything until we know who killed her.”
Ella’s defiance seemed to melt. She sank to her chair, expression defeated.
Stacy gazed at her a moment, then turned to go. Magda stopped her. Stacy looked back.
“Don’t leave it up to the police, okay? We’ll help you in any way we can. We loved her.”
CHAPTER 8
Tuesday, March 1, 2005
10:30 a.m.
Being a university that catered to commuters, UNO had only three residence facilities, and one of those exclusively housed students with families. Since Bobby Gautreaux hailed from Monroe, Stacy figured he lived in one of the residences for single students, either Bienville Hall or Privateer Place.
She also figured she’d get nowhere in an attempt to wheedle an address out of the registrar’s office, but she might do some good at the engineering department.
She quickly formulated a plan and assembled the pieces she needed to carry it out, then made her way to the engineering building, located on the opposite side of the campus from the UC.
Every department had its own secretary. That person knew her department inside and out, and was familiar with every student major, knew each faculty member, complete with their peculiarities. They also tended, within their respective domains, to be more powerful than God.
Stacy had also learned that if they liked you, they would move heaven and earth to help you solve a problem. But if they didn’t, if you crossed them, you were screwed.
The woman in charge of the engineering department fiefdom, Stacy saw, had a face as round as the moon and a big broad smile.
One of the motherly ones. Good.
“Hi,” she smiled, and crossed to the woman’s desk. “I’m Stacy Killian, a grad student from the English department.”
The woman returned her smile. “How can I help you?”
“I’m looking for Bobby Gautreaux.”
The woman frowned slightly. “I haven’t seen Bobby today.”
“He doesn’t have an engineering class on Tuesdays?”
“I believe he does. Let me check.” She swung toward her computer terminal, accessed the student records, then typed in Bobby’s name.
“Let’s see. He did have a class earlier, though I didn’t see him. Maybe I can help you?”
“I’m a family friend from Monroe. I was there this past weekend, visiting my folks. Bobby’s mom asked if I would bring this to him.” She held up the card she’d just purchased at the bookstore, now marked “Bobby” on the envelope.
The woman smiled and held out a hand. “I’ll be happy to give it to him.”
Stacy held back. “I promised I’d give it directly to him. She was pretty insistent about that. He lives in Bienville Hall, doesn’t he?”
Stacy saw a wariness creep into the secretary’s expression. “I’m sure I don’t know.”
“Could you check?” Stacy leaned closer, lowering her voice. “There’s money in it. A hundred dollars. If I leave it and something happens…I’d never forgive myself.”
The woman pursed her lips. “I certainly can’t take the responsibility for cash.”
“That’s just the way I feel,” Stacy agreed. “The sooner I hand it to Bobby, the better.”
The woman hesitated a moment more, gazing at her, seeming to size her up. After a moment, she nodded. “Let’s see if I have that information.”