How Perfect You Are (Carlson College Mysteries Book 1) Read online

  “Damn,” James spoke again as he finished the last of the texts. He looked over at me, blue eyes wide. “This is creepy. Did you notice he said the same thing in the messages today as the one you got Friday? This “how perfect you are” business? That makes me think, whoever this is, they’re really infatuated with you. Not just playing jokes, or something like that.”

  “Yeah, I did notice that. It’s really...weird. And creepy. And freaky. God, you’d never guess I was an English major, would you? Sorry. So much for hoping this would all blow over,” I sighed. I took my phone back from James and glanced at it to check the time. Luckily I still had almost half an hour before geology. Even in the midst of a mild panic attack, I was loath to miss a class.

  “Look, I know we had said you probably didn’t have enough to get the police involved, but I still think you should make a report,” James suggested. “Even if there’s not much they can do, at the very least you’ll be starting a paper trail of this being a problem. If it’s ongoing, you’ll have a way to prove it.”

  Just hearing him say “ongoing” made my blood run cold. The idea that I might have to deal with this for an extended period of time was not what I wanted to hear right now.

  “Oh God,” I moaned, closing my eyes and leaning back in my seat.

  “You okay, Cass?” James asked worriedly. I felt him put a hand on my knee and my eyes popped open.

  “Uh, not exactly, no. I mean, I’m not about to curl up on the floor and cry. But I am, fairly understandably, I should think, really freaked out. I mean, who is this guy? I’m assuming it’s a guy at this point. But I could be wrong, I guess. I’m going to assume anyway. What does he want? If he’s this obsessed with me why can’t I figure out who it is? I can’t think of a single person who likes me that much, other than my grandmother, Amber, Jenna, Brooklyn. And they’re family, friends. Not creepy, overzealous members of the Cassie Morgan Appreciation Society, which I previously did not realize had any members!”

  I stopped abruptly, realizing my voice had gotten loud and I was gaining the attention of a few people sitting near us. I turned back to James and lowered my voice slightly.

  “Seriously. How can someone possibly be this interested in me and I not have even the foggiest idea who it is?”

  “I don’t know, Cass. I really don’t. It’s what makes this whole thing even more concerning. Whoever it is has done a really good job covering their interest in you up until now. I’d be willing to bet they’ve had their eye on you for awhile, but it’s only recently reached this new level. That’s why it’s all the more important to go to the police now, before something big happens,” James said gently.

  “Big? Like what?” I asked, not really sure I wanted to know. James was clearly thinking the same thing, because he just shrugged.

  “Let’s not worry about that right now. You’ll do what you can and be prepared. Now, stay here. I’ll be right back.”

  As James got up, my gaze went back to my phone. No new messages, thankfully. I had a strong urge to delete all of the creepy ones, but I knew I’d need to keep them to show the police.

  Just the thought of going to the police with this made me anxious. Most of my life I’d been taking care of myself in some capacity or another, and having to go the police meant that this was something beyond my ability to handle. Although I knew logically that it was silly, I couldn’t help but feel weak and useless for not knowing what to do with this situation.

  I wondered briefly if I should call Eileen. My grandmother was a bit free spirited, absent minded, and sometimes downright kooky, but she’d always been there for me and I knew she’d fly home in a heartbeat if I told her what was going on. That was exactly why, almost as soon as the thought occurred to me, I decided against it.

  Eileen had raised my father and his brother, lost her husband, lost both her sons, and had then taken me in when I was seven years old and my mother surrendered her parental rights in order to be a full time Vegas showgirl. While raising another child hadn’t ever been part of her post-retirement plans, she had always made me feel loved and welcome.

  After I graduated from high school, though, she had finally taken the trip around the world she and my grandfather had always planned on but never found the time. For the past two years she had been all over Europe and Asia and was currently working her way through South America. She still had about a million places she wanted to see, and I didn’t want to be the reason she cut her trip short.

  “Here you go!” James’s voice startled me out of my thoughts as he plunked a coffee, the largest size available in the shop, down in front of me. “I had them add an extra espresso shot.”

  “Mmm,” I took a long, warming sip and sighed, instantly feeling just a tiny bit better. Better enough, at least, to try and make a plan. James agreed that while I did need to make a police report, there was probably no need to go right this second. He promised to fill Amber in on the situation while I went on to class and then to work. Once I got off, Amber would meet me at home and we could go to the police together. James seemed to recognize that I was still reluctant to involve the police, and he correctly intuited that I would be more likely to do it if Amber was around to go with me, or nag me if I didn’t.

  “Thank you, James,” I said as I stood and slung my bag over my shoulder. “Seriously. I appreciate it. I’m sure helping out your little sister’s roommate with her personal issues was not on your to-do list today.”

  “No problem at all,” James smiled. “I’m happy to help. Call me if you need me. You have my number?”

  I checked my phone to confirm that I did, and promised I would call if anything else came up before heading back outside to trek to class.

  Geology was, as always, the closest thing to torture that I had ever known on Earth. My professor, whose name was something like Dr. Cook or Clark (she spoke so quietly it was difficult to say), had been a last minute replacement. She was extremely young, mousy, and clearly would have been more at home on some kind of geological dig than in a classroom. Her lectures consisted of standing with her back to us while reading directly from a slideshow, the content of which seemed to have been copied straight from our positively ancient textbook. On multiple occasions I had noted references to rock formations in countries I was pretty sure no longer legally existed.

  My classmates pretty much did whatever they wanted, with only a few of us who really needed this one science credit for our major actually bothering to pay attention. My peers, however, often ordered food, organized parties, made phone calls, heckled the professor, and were generally just non compliant. It was difficult to learn about major geological events of the Cretaceous period when the guy behind me was arguing with the Pizza Hut delivery boy about whether or not he could deliver to a lecture hall.

  Finally, the class was over. Dr. Cook-Clark tried to tell us what the reading assignment was, but her meek attempt at normal speaking volume was drowned out by the 30 or so students who couldn’t have cared less. I gave up on trying to hear the assignment and decided I’d figure it out later.

  The lab that followed was only slightly more bearable. Led by a grad student who didn’t care what we did and offered next to no help or direction, my lab partner and I were forced to trudge through some rock sample identifications on our own.

  “I think this last one is gneiss?” Courtney Chang, my lab partner, said, clearly not certain. I took the small rock from her and held it up next to a picture in the book.

  “Let’s go with that,” I said, not certain either but ready to be done. I wasn’t entirely sure we had gotten more than half of the identifications right, but at that point I truly didn’t care. I found myself actually almost looking forward to going to work. Having something to do was far preferable to a boring lab and lecture that gave me entirely too much time to think about all the chaos in my life currently.

  “Sounds good to me,” Courtney quickly scribbled her final answer down. “God, I am so glad it’s almost fall break. My boyfrie
nd and I are going to down to Barbados for the weekend. I can’t wait, I’m getting sick of the cold weather up here.”

  “Barbados? Wow, that sounds awesome,” I answered, feeling somewhat envious. I wondered how poor Courtney ever tolerated the long, snowy winters in Carlson if she considered the slightly chilly fall temperatures to be “cold weather.”

  “Are you going anywhere? You’re from Carlson, right?” Courtney asked.

  “Yeah. And no, no plans. Honestly, it probably won’t be that exciting. I’ll probably just be working, or hanging out with my roommate,” I admitted, cringing inwardly at how lame that sounded.

  “Oh, that’ll be nice,” Courtney said weakly, sounding sympathetic.

  “Maybe Christmas break will be more exciting,” I suggested, although I secretly thought if the lead up to Christmas break was any more exciting than the one to fall break was turning out to be I might have to consider becoming a monk in a remote monastery somewhere.

  “Maybe! Well, I’ve gotta run. See you later, Cassie!” Courtney said as she gathered her bag and books and left. I did the same after turning my paper into the grad student, who barely glanced up from his phone.

  Outside the day had warmed considerably, and campus was teeming with people. Students leaned against tree trunks, gathered around blankets in the grass, and perched atop the low brick walls that lined the sidewalks. All of the trees situated around the commons were bursting with color, from golden yellow to crimson red to bright orange.

  Normally this would have been a pleasant sight for me. One of my favorite ways to pass time between classes was lounging under a tree with a book, half reading and half people watching. But today the idea of watching others was entirely too upsetting, what with the knowledge that one of them might be watching me back.

  Instead, I quickly headed to the parking lot. Apparently not caring about our grade at all had resulted in Courtney and I finishing the lab earlier than usual, and I calculated I could run home and grab a bite to eat before leaving for work. Although I had managed to push the events of the morning from my mind during class, I had a faint, slightly nauseous feeling that I was pretty confident was the result of nerves the whole drive home. I was hoping a quick bowl of cereal and a few minutes to myself would help me decompress.

  Although there was no reason for me to expect Amber to be home in the middle of the day, I was slightly disappointed when I saw that her car (which she had finally managed to rescue from the impound lot) wasn’t there. The thought of going into our house alone filled me with a surprisingly strong sense of dread.

  Briefly I considered going straight to work. We didn’t have uniforms, and I was already dressed in a professional enough skirt and blouse. I could probably beg a sandwich off Danny, the chef. Then I wouldn’t have to be alone in the house, wondering the whole time if I was really alone.

  After a few moments of sitting in the driveway with the engine running, however, I decided against my plan. I didn’t want to let some lunatic drive me out of my house. That would mean letting him, whoever that was, win, and even as on edge as I was I felt determined to win this particular battle.

  I shook my head briskly, strengthened my resolve, and shut off the car. Keys in hand, I walked quickly onto the porch and unlocked the door, noting with relief that the door had definitely been locked in my absence.

  The woosh woosh woosh of the ceiling fan was the only noise I heard inside the otherwise quiet house. I breathed a sigh of relief and set my bag down by the couch. Sitting, I listened for a moment. Nothing. Feeling better by the minute, I took out my phone and again felt relief when I saw there were no new messages for me, creepy or otherwise.

  I had just started checking my email when I heard it. A faint scratching sound coming from somewhere upstairs. I froze, ears straining to hear more. After a brief pause the noise came again, a scratching that was followed by a metallic clink.

  For a moment I was torn between action and inaction. Then, when I finally convinced my panicking brain to do something, I was again torn between fleeing out the front door or confronting the noise maker. In a display of surprising bravery, (for me, anyway), I grabbed a fireplace poker from its spot near the old brick fireplace. Holding it in front of me, I slowly started up the stairs.

  I winced as the stairs creaked loudly, and I paused for a moment. There was another clinking sound and more scratching. I couldn’t imagine what someone was doing to make those sounds, which remained barely audible.

  On the upper landing I heard another soft scratch coming from the bathroom. The door was ajar and the lights were off. Fireplace poker grasped firmly in two hands, I raised it to shoulder height and used my foot to push the door open.

  I wasn’t sure who was more startled, me or Willow. The cat let out a surprised mew before leaping off the counter and streaking downstairs in a gray blur. I let out a yelp and jumped back, bumping into the door frame. Once my racing heart started to return to a rate I was fairly certain wasn’t a sign of an impending heart attack I flicked on the bathroom lights.

  Amber had left an assortment of bobby pins and hair clips scattered across the counter. Based on the large number that were also on the floor, Willow had been playing with them. In typical cat fashion, she had apparently entertained herself by swatting them off the counter and onto the floor, which explained both the scratching and clinking I had heard.

  With a sigh, I dropped to my knees and began to gather the pins and clips. I had just finished when the culprit returned, bumping her face against my hand.

  “Stupid cat,” I said quietly, not meaning it. I stroked Willow’s velvet head and she purred contentedly. After a few minutes I finally felt my heart and breathing rates return to normal. By that point, though, I realized I was no longer hungry. I also had no desire to stay in the house any longer. With one final pat for Willow, I went downstairs and returned the fireplace poker. Then, grabbing my bag, I locked the door, triple checked it, and hurried off to work.

  12

  By the time I had made it to the inn I had calmed down considerably. I parked my car in the employee lot around back and came in the back door through the kitchen, as was my custom. Danny, the head chef, always had something baking or roasting, and there was always a pot of coffee brewing. I headed straight towards the coffee, grabbing a mug from the stack reserved for staff.

  “Hey, Cassie,” Danny greeted me, looking up from the meat he was seasoning. “How’s it going?”

  “Okay, I guess,” I replied. Now that my nerves weren’t completely shot, I was feeling hungry again. Danny must have noticed me eyeing the slab of meat.

  “Hungry?” he asked. “There are some scones left over from the breakfast service. Probably some fruit, too.”

  “You are a lifesaver,” I said gratefully. I found the scones wrapped in foil on a plate. I took a bite of one, closing my eyes with pleasure.

  “God, I love these orange scones,” I said. I took a long sip of coffee to wash it down. “Are you sure, like absolutely positive, you won’t share the recipe with me?”

  “No,” Danny said and Marcus, his sous chef who had just walked in. Danny was weirdly secretive about his recipes, and I’d been begging for the scone one for years. Danny always said he would leave it to me in his will.

  “Fine,” I sighed. “But if you won’t tell me, I’m taking the rest of these.” I picked up the plate. “How’s Susan today?”

  “On an errand in town, actually. Here’s hoping that it takes awhile,” Danny had worked at the inn almost as long as Susan and was one of the few people she seemed to listen to. He crossed his fingers and flashed me a brief smile.

  “Yeah, with the way my luck is going she’ll be here soon. Thanks for the scones,” I said as I pushed the kitchen door open with my hip.

  The kitchen opened into the large dining room. It was empty at the moment, and since my mouth was still full of scone I was grateful. From there I passed through one of the parlors and the foyer to the front room that was used as th
e reception area and served as my command post.

  My favorite coworker, Amanda, was already there, speaking into the phone and rolling her eyes at the same time.

  “Yes ma’am, we do allow up to two dogs with current vaccination records. No, even if they stay in your bag we still need proof of vaccinations. Yes, even if your Chihuahua is toothless. Sure, just fax them in. I’ll make a note of it when we receive them. Anything else I can help you with? Okay. You have a nice day.”

  Amanda hung up the phone gently, then proceeded to mock beat her head against the counter.

  “I hate purse dogs. I hate toothless purse dogs. And I especially hate people who own toothless purse dogs,” she groaned.

  “Here, have a scone,” I said, offering the plate.

  Amanda took one, and with a full mouth she asked, “Aren’t you kind of early? Schedule says you come on at 12 o’clock.”

  “Yeah. I...just didn’t have anything better to do,” I said lamely, not wanting to get into the sordid details of my suddenly exciting life. Amanda snorted.

  “And you just thought you’d come hang out here? Well, just don’t clock in until noon. Susan will freak if you get any more overtime. I can’t say I mind the company, though. It’s been me and the new kid all afternoon. He’s cute, but man is he dense.”

  “That bad?” I asked as I paged through the reservation book. I was relieved to see the afternoon looked fairly light for check ins.

  “He thought Bloody Marys were made with actual blood. He told a guest that he wasn’t sure if the blood in them was organic or not, he’d have to check, but he thought it was probably fresh.”

  “Dear God,” I cringed. “Really? That’s disgusting. Did Susan hear about it?”

  “No, and as a favor to him we aren’t mentioning it. I smoothed things over with Mrs. Carmody, up in 12? Kind of a benefit of the doubt type thing. But keep an eye on him, would you? And maybe leave a complimentary bottle of champagne outside her door.”