Calamity Jayne Goes to College (20 page)

It was almost eleven when we left the student union, our breath visible white clouds as we made our way to Townsend's truck.
Shivering, I raised my hood and stuck it over my hair.

Townsend must have noticed, as he put an arm around me to warm me while we walked to the truck. We pulled out and I persuaded
Townsend to drive through the campus before we headed for home. We met two different campus security vehicles, and it made
me feel a little better that they were taking the situation seriously. We were passing the medical examiner's building when
heavy steam caught my attention.

"Stop a second, Townsend," I said, and he pulled over. I rolled my window down and stuck my head out. The smell of smoke met
my nostrils. I sniffed again.

"Do you smell smoke?" I asked Townsend.

He opened his door and stuck his head out. At that point an alarm began to go off at the building we were stopped in front
of and people began running from the exit.

"Fire!" someone yelled. "Fire!"

"Call 9-1-1!" Townsend shouted, tossing his cell phone at me.

"Where are you going?" I called, punching in 9-1-1, sirens in the distance signaling the authorities were already in the know.
I jumped down out of the pickup and followed after Townsend, but couldn't find him. Seven or eight people were standing in
the parking lot stamping their feet and rubbing their arms to keep warm.

"Is anybody left in there?" I asked. "Is everyone accounted for?"

"We don't know!" a woman dressed in a white lab coat said. "I think there may still be people in the basement."

"Did you tell that to the good-looking guy just ahead of me?" I asked.

She nodded. "He asked. I thought he was a cop or something. He took my entry card and went in."

I felt a moment of extreme panic. "Give me your card!" I yelled to a guy who stood next to the lab worker.

He stared at me.

"Now!" I ordered. "We're together!"

The guy handed his card over and I ran to the door, jammed the card in, and entered the building. I yelled for Townsend as
I ran through the hallways.

I suddenly remembered Trevor Childers worked in the M.E.'s office, and I made my way to that area of the building first but
didn't find any smoke or Townsend.

I hurried to the basement of the building where the offices of Billings and Danbury, among others, were located. "Townsend!"
I yelled. "Rick!" No response.

I was alarmed when I detected the strong smell of smoke. I hurried to the hallway outside the office area and coughed as the
smoke intensified. Noticing a fire extinguisher on the wall, I grabbed it and started down the hall, reading the instructions
and praying I could figure out how to operate it.

"Townsend!" I yelled, the smoke getting thicker.

I got to the hallway outside Billings's office and realized the fire was coming from inside. I took a step forward, set the
fire extinguisher on the floor to ready it for operation, when, for the second time in almost as many days, I was swept off
my feet and settled over a strong shoulder.

"Didn't you hear me tell you to stay put?" I heard, and almost fainted with relief when I recognized Townsend's voice.

"I heard. I just didn't obey," I said. "Uh, you can put me down. I can walk, you know."

"Right. And miss the chance to carry someone from a burning building over my shoulder with impressed taxpayers looking on?
Not likely, Calamity," he said. "So just relax and enjoy the ride," he ordered.

I sighed. Now that I knew Townsend was safe, I'd agree to just about anything. Oh, I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't tell
him that, however. I've got my reputation to consider.

With a flare for the theatrical I hadn't suspected Townsend capable of, he shoved the exit door open with much fanfare and
carted me out to the applause and admiration of the gathered throng. I heard the unmistakable click of cameras and felt the
glare of television cameras.

"This is so humiliating," I told Townsend, but figured I owed him his moment of glory. "My ass will be spread all over newspaper
and TV by tomorrow," I said.

I could feel Townsend chuckle.

"At least they got your good side," he said.

Nice.

The firemen quickly put the fire out, damage was kept to a minimum, and people began to disperse. The state fire marshal's
office had been called in to ascertain the cause of the blaze. Townsend was busy reporting what he'd observed, and he entered
the building while speaking to the authorities. I'd grabbed my digital camera and started to snap some pictures for an article
when I noticed a familiar figure sitting on the curb. Struck by the sad, lonely pose, I snapped a picture. It was Trevor Childers,
and he looked shaken.

"Trevor? Are you okay?" I asked, and when he looked up I noticed his tearstained cheeks. I sat down beside him. "Did you get
hurt?" I asked. "Do you need a paramedic?"

He shook his head. "Thanks to your hero over there I'm okay."

"My hero?"

"I was near the basement offices when the alarm went off," he said. "I kind of panicked. Your friend led me out."

"He's a good man in an emergency," I acknowledged. "What were you doing outside Billings's office again?" I asked him, figuring,
as upset as he was, he might be more apt to come clean. Near-death experience and all that.

"I was trying to help Sherman out," he said.

"Out of the building?"

Childers shook his head. "Out of tenure hell."

"How?"

"He got a raw deal on that tenure thing. I thought if we got something on Professor Billings, maybe we could get her to change
her mind," he said.

"What made you think you could get something on her?"

He shrugged. "Everyone has secrets. It was worth a try. I even thought at one time of claiming she came on to me and threatening
to report her if she didn't reconsider on the tenure, but I didn't think I was that good of an actor. For obvious reasons."

"But aren't you and Professor Danbury--uh, doing the same thing?" I asked. "You know. That same prohibition against student/professor,
uh, fraternization?"

"Sherman's not my professor. Besides, he's only eight years older than me. And we've been discreet," he added.

Not discreet enough if I'd figured it out.

"Any idea what caused the fire?" I asked. "Or who?"

Trevor shook his head. "But it couldn't be Sherman," he said, tears filling his eyes again. "It couldn't be. He wouldn't do
that. Not with me working in the building. He wouldn't."

I handed him a tissue from my purse. "Are you sure, Trevor? Are you really all that sure?"

"Mr. Childers?"

We both looked up to see several Campus Security officers looking down at us.

"We understand you were in the area of the building near where the fire broke out," one said. "We have a few questions for
you, sir," the officer said. "If you'd come with us?"

Trevor finished wiping his eyes with the tissue and got to his feet.

"Good luck, Trevor," I told him, thinking he was going to need it.

Townsend and I hung around the Campus Security cop shop waiting for the okay to head home. We'd been waiting for over an hour
when Patrick arrived. He shook Townsend's hand and looked at me.

"Are you okay?" he said.

I nodded. "What's going on?"

"So far it appears the fire was intentionally set. Some flammable substance. They're looking into the possibility that it's
something from the M.E.'s lab. They probably gained entrance through the service door by the back dock. Someone stuffed something
in the door to keep it from latching. No cameras down there unfortunately," he added. "Amateurish job. Professor Billings's
office door was doused and set ablaze."

"What about Keith Gardner? Has he been arrested yet? If he's in jail, he couldn't have caused this fire," I said.

Patrick shook his head. "Gardner's in the wind."

"And the professor is clearly a target," I said.

"It appears that way. But getting her to believe that isn't going to be easy," he said. "Even after this."

"You've spoken to her?"

"Just now. Naturally, she's concerned, but she's not willing to back down. It's not who she is, she says," Patrick added.

"But she is the kind of educator who will place not only herself at risk but her students as well," I pointed out. "And all
to avoid looking weak and vulnerable. That's totally irresponsible. She's playing chicken with people's lives here!"

Patrick sighed. "I tried to convince her to cancel class tomorrow to give authorities time to investigate and maybe make a
break in this case, but she wouldn't go for it. The Campus Security chief is going to make an appeal to the college president
to see if he can step in and order her to cancel the class, but he's not hopeful that will happen. These kinds of decisions
are, unfortunately, as a rule left to the professor's discretion. I figure it will take an act of God or some kind of unnatural
disaster to get Professor Billings to back down."

I pondered his words.

Unnatural disaster, eh? What do you know? My specialty!

CHAPTER 17

Townsend dropped me off at home around one and I didn't even receive so much as a good-night grope. I imagine that was because
Townsend suspected I was up to something--okay, okay, so he was right-- because he tried everything he could to dissuade me
from attending class the next morning. The poor daft fellow even went so far as to offer to buy me breakfast at Hazel's and
not make one crack about what I ordered. Nice try, Ranger, but it would take more than hash browns and a double side of bacon
to get me to change my plans. Now, maybe if he served them to me in bed, wearing nothing but my gammy's Kiss the Cook apron...
Hmmmm. I shook my head for fear I'd suggest just that, and shook it again for fear he'd accept.

I spent some time on my schoolwork, working on my campus crime article, my pups running around the kitchen, their toenails
clicking on the linoleum as they vied for attention. I grabbed them each a raw hot dog from the fridge (uh, my gammy doesn't
have to know everything) and found myself chewing on one as well. I finally fell into bed around two thirty, thinking once
Kari was wedded and bedded Saturday, I planned to stay in bed all day Sunday and catch up on my sleep.

I sighed. What a way to spend a birthday.

The next morning I was up early. I'd arranged to pick Frankie up so I could spring my master plan on him. I didn't think he
would approve, but it was all I could think of if the professor insisted on going forward with her lecture as planned. I tiptoed
out of the house without waking Gram and thought that had to be a good sign.

I picked Frankie up ten minutes later. I'd told him I'd park down the street a piece just to avoid any unpleasantness with
Uncle Frank, and from the way Frankie walked to the car--a cross between Shaggy on
Scooby Doo
and one of the walking corpses from
Dawn of the Dead--
it was clear this was one depressed dude. The hour's ride to Carson had just gotten
soooo
much longer.

He slid into the seat beside me. More like slunk.

"Hey, Frankie," I said. "Whazzup?" I reached out to high-five him but he just looked straight ahead. Uh-oh. Bad sign. I put
the car in gear and prepared to pull out.

"I don't even know why I'm going to class this morning," he said. "What's the point? The DPS academy won't accept a guy who
can't even beat a girl in an obstacle race," he said.

I put the car back in park. "Whoa there, buckaroo. What do you mean, 'Can't even beat a girl'? That sounds a little male chauvinist
oinker to me. I wonder what Dixie would think."

That got Frankie's attention.

"I didn't mean Dixie," he said. "I don't think of her as a girl."

"I'm sure she'll be thrilled to hear that," I told him.

"You don't understand. I poured everything I had into making it in the academy. All my hopes and dreams. Only to discover
that my human frailties are going to prevent me from realizing that dream. It's devastating," he said.

"You don't know yet that you won't be accepted," I said, hoping to make him feel better. "They don't even do the physical
agility testing for three months. You still have time to get in shape."

"No one has
that
much time," he replied. "You saw me. I made a complete and utter fool of myself. And did you see Patrick's face? He looked
like he'd just witnessed a train wreck."

Think Thomas the Tank Engine jumping the track.

"Don't give up, Frankie," I urged. "You never know what might happen. And there are all kinds of jobs in law enforcement where
you don't have to be a superhero."

"Yeah right, Super Woman. Name one."

I thought about it. There had to be something.

"What about those CSI guys?" I said. "Forensic technicians and investigators. You don't think they're all really certified
peace officers, do you? They just write the shows that way so they can get the story in and use fewer actors. After commercials,
they only have like forty minutes to follow the evidence and nab the bad guy, so the CSIs have to do double duty. Personally,
I think you'd make an awesome CSI guy--not to mention a really adorable one in those cute lab coats."

Frankie was quiet. "I suppose I could talk to Patrick to see what other opportunities are available. But it wouldn't hurt
to ratchet up the training regime. I might still have a shot at the academy if I work at it."

"Attaboy, Frankie," I told him, pulling out again. "You keep that positive attitude."

And he did. Until I told him what I had planned to keep Billings from presenting her last lethal lecture.

He looked at me. "You can't be serious."

I shrugged. "Can you think of another way? Short of kidnapping, that is?"

"Either way, it's a safe bet a law or two will be fractured."

I sighed. "That's why you and Dixie can't be involved. An arrest right now would put the brakes on your law enforcer careers."

"I don't like it," Frankie said. "I don't like it at all."

I wasn't any too thrilled myself.

"Just a word of warning. I go aggravated, bucko, or I don't go at all," I said with a wicked grin.

"Stop the car. I want out," Frankie said.

Dream on, Frankfurter.

I dropped Frankie off at his building, drove to my class, took my quiz (I think I even passed!), and then scrammed, hurrying
back to rejoin Frankie.

Dixie met us at class. Her mouth flew open when she learned what I had planned.

"That's your great plan?" she said. "Who helped you come up with it? Inspector Clouseau?"

"That's funny, Dixie," I said. "We're trying to avert a possible murder and you're auditioning for America's Funniest Comic."

"Maybe this won't even be necessary," Frankie said. "Maybe she'll be a no-show."

Yeah, like anything ever went my way.

I stood in the corridor outside Frankie's classroom pacing back and forth, waiting to see if maybe by some miracle the Carson
College security professionals had convinced the head honchos at the administration level to put pressure on Billings to cancel
her class for that day.

At ten minutes after nine I was breathing much easier. The professor was late for her class. Maybe she had wised up. Five
minutes later, Professor Billings strode in, another expensive pair of shoes on her feet--this time a brown-stitched leather
pump that tapped out her
once more into the breach
battle cry on the shiny, waxed linoleum.

I stopped her before she got to her classroom.

"Wait, Professor Billings!" I stood between her and her classroom doorway. "Please think carefully about what you're about
to do here," I told her. "People's lives and safety hang in the balance. Your own life may be at stake. That has to be more
important than proving you won't be the first one to blink."

She gave me a grim look. "We've had this discussion before, Miss Turner," she said. "And nothing has changed. I don't expect
you to understand, but I do ask that you not interfere."

"But this is nuts!" I said. "What is it going to hurt to wait a couple days to give the authorities a chance to investigate?"

"Oh, do the authorities have a suspect?" she asked. "A real one?"

I couldn't meet her eyes.

"I didn't think so," she said. "Look, I appreciate your concern, Miss Turner, but I'm a teacher. That's what I do. So I'm
going to teach."

"With murder being the lesson learned?" I asked.

I sensed a slight chink in her armor. It was quickly dealt with.

"I'm late for my class, Miss Turner," she said. "If you wouldn't mind?" She motioned for me to step aside.

I considered trying to block the doorway, but figured with her background in law enforcement and her size advantage, she'd
dispose of me in short order. I let her pass.

Besides, it wasn't as if I wasn't going to do something I hadn't done before. In, like, grade school.

I strolled over to the fire alarm and pulled it. Then I ran like hell... right into the arms of Hector Moldon-ado, Campus
Security chief and so not a current member of the Tressa Jayne Turner fan club.

I frowned as Hector escorted me away from the building. I waited outside for the students to file out, but no one left. Several
minutes later I walked over to Hector.

"Why aren't they leaving?" I asked.

He motioned to the microphone attached to his portable radio. "I contacted the office with an all-clear," he said. "They notified
the classrooms of the false alarm. Besides, didn't you have a discussion with Professor Billings before you pulled that alarm?"

I nodded.

"I imagine she also realized you pulled the alarm and she threatened to fail any student who left her classroom."

"Can she do that?" I asked.

He shrugged. "What's to stop her?"

And they call blondes dumb.

I broke free of the surprised security officer and ran for the building.

I entered at a gallop and ran full-bore into Billings's classroom, no real clue what I was going to do to cause a classroom
commotion. Hard to believe, isn't it? I bet you thought I had a natural gift and didn't have to work at it.

I looked around the classroom and spotted Frankie and I said the first thing that popped into my head. Always a mistake.

"There you are!" I said. "I knew it! You're with
her!"
I pointed to Dixie. "How could you? You knew how I felt," I yelled.

Professor Billings stepped away from the large dry-erase board on the wall behind her.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

I used the line Townsend had used on me. "It's called saving you from yourself," I mumbled. "You can thank me later."

I heard a door shut. Hector had entered the classroom. Crap. My class-stopping performance was about to be cut short. I turned
back to my audience.

"I can't believe after all we've been through you'd do this to me!" I wailed.

A skinny kid with black glasses and an overbite raised his hand. "Are you talking to me?" he said.

"Does it look like I'm talking to you?" I asked.

He flinched and lowered his hand and took off his glasses, wiping them on his white shirt. "I'm sorry. My glasses were smudged.
I couldn't tell."

"I'm talking to him!" I said, and pointed to Frankie. "The man who broke my heart. Who reached in, grabbed my aorta, and squeezed
my heart out like a used-up dishrag," I said, adding a sniffle.

"Huh?" Frankie said.

"Sure, go ahead and make light of it, you hedonistic heartbreaker," I shouted. "Go ahead and shred my heart like taco cheese
through a grater." Okay, so I hadn't put my days at the Dairee Freeze behind me yet. Sniff, sniff. "He'll love you and leave
you, too, you know!" I told Dixie.

Suddenly the geekie guy I'd yelled at earlier raised his hand again.

I looked at him. "Uh, yes? Do you have a question?"

He put a finger to the nosepiece of his glasses and pushed them back up on his nose. He peered at me through his still-cloudy
lenses. He pointed at Frankie.

"Isn't he your cousin?" he asked.

I blinked. I'd completely forgotten some of the gang knew me from Big Burl's the other night.

"Uh, yeah, that's right," I said, struggling to improvise. "He's my... cousin... and... and--" I looked at Frankie and then
over at his fiancee sitting next to him. "He stole
her
away from me!" I screamed, pointing at Dixie.

"What the hell?" Dixie yelled.

"It's true! It's true!" I shouted. "He stole my little Dixie Doodle away from me!"

"That's it!" Professor Billings protested. "I want this individual removed from my class," she told Hector, who was still
hovering in the doorway taking in my little impromptu drama.
"Now,
Chief," Billings yelled.

Hector snapped to attention and came after me. I led him on a short slow-speed chase around the classroom trying to use up
the final minutes of class time. At last he got me cornered near the back of the room.
Ring you stupid bell, ring!
I chanted, wanting this ring more than the dinner bell at my Uncle Frank's annual hog roast.

"Class, you are dismissed," I heard Professor Billings say with a disgusted tone. Yes!

Everyone gave me strange looks as they filed out of the room. I looked at Hector and smiled. "No harm, no foul?" I suggested.

Hector gave me a disgusted look. "Try 'you have the right to remain silent.'"

"Good advice," I said, and held out my wrists. "I think I'll take it."