Masterclass: Decklin Kilgarry Suspense Mysteries, #3

By Faith Wood

A Decklin Kilgarry Novel - Book 3 - Masterclass

 

Donning false bravado, Decklin stepped to the side of the lectern, descended three steps, then took his place smack dab in front of everyone. "Good morning—I'm Decklin Kilgarry!" Scanning their faces, he wondered why anyone might know his name—the most they probably knew about him was what they read in the class description, and that wasn't much.

Still, it was enough.

"Since you're in my class, I'm going to assume you're interested in crime. Solving crimes. Murder . . ."

When Decklin Kilgarry decided to accept an adjunct professorship at a prestigious, East Coast university, he never imagined he'd be embroiled in a mystery staged to challenge the most brilliant criminal minds. Nor did he think he might in a murderer's crosshairs . . . Faith Wood's Masterclass invites readers into the world of theatre, offering an intriguing glance into what is real, and what is fiction shaded with duplicitous drama.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wood Media
• Release date: Mar 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9798201184681

Faith Wood

Conflict Coach and Certified Professional Speaker, Faith Wood is also a Behaviorist, Hypnotist and Handwriting Analyst. Now the author of the Decklin Kilgarry & Colbie Colleen Trilogy, the Decklin Kilgarry Suspense Mystery Series as well as the Colbie Colleen Cozv. Suspense Mvsterv Series, she lives with her husband in British Columbia, Canada. Her interest in Behavior Psychology blossomed during her law enforcement career when it occurred to her if she knew what people really wanted, as well as motives behind their actions, she would be more effective in work and life. So, she hung up her cuffs, trading them in for traveling the world speaking to audiences to help them better understand human behaviors, and how they impact others. Faith speaks about how to tap into the area of the brain that controls actions which, in turn, have a tendency to adjust perceptions, thereby launching a more empowered life. Faith writes both fiction and non-fiction and she touches lives, leaving a lasting impression.

Book preview

Chapter 1

As Decklin surveyed the sea of faces, it wasn’t difficult to determine who was interested, and who would probably be happier undergoing a root canal. An easy ‘A’, he wondered? Little do you know . . .

Watching a student sidle to the only available seat in the middle of the last row, it was clear many chose to sit with friends. Others settled in where they could hear and see well, and an obvious few decided it was prudent to sit in the back row, their best plan for a quick getaway. Then?

Silence.

It was time.

Donning false bravado, Decklin stepped to the side of the lectern, descended three steps, then took his place smack dab in front of everyone. Good morning—I’m Decklin Kilgarry! Scanning their faces, he wondered why anyone might know his name—the most they probably knew about him was what they read in the class description, and that wasn’t much.

Still, it was enough.

Since you’re in my class, I’m going to assume you’re interested in crime. Solving crimes. Murder . . .

More silence.

The one thing you’ll need to do well in this class? Again scanning the room, he noticed those who were answering his question silently, as well as students who already disengaged. Can anyone tell me?

A full thirty seconds before a few, timid hands appeared. A notebook, a young woman with sandy hair answered when Decklin pointed to her.

He smiled, well aware of his own compunction to write things down. Yes—that’s good! I use a notebook for everything when I’m working a case. A pause. But, not quite what I’m thinking . . . . Again, he paused. Anyone else?"

Another hand.

Knowledge of psychology?

Excellent! It’s good to have an idea of human behavior! Still, not quite what I’m thinking, though . . . He paused, surveying the lecture hall. You—in the back. Middle of the row . . .

The student blushed, not quite certain of what to make of someone who singled him out on the first day. Wasn’t that why he sat in the back row in the first place? Total and complete anonymity?

A faulty plan, at best.

Observation, the student responded, then focused his attention on his laptop.

Yes! That’s it! Observation!

So, with that simple answer, Professor Decklin Kilgarry was off and running. Taking a few steps closer to his students, an exhilarating and electrifying energy coursed through him as he decided on his next question. Why do you think ‘observation’ is the most important aspect of solving a crime?

Suddenly, a young woman raised her hand, Decklin pointing to her immediately. Yes—what do you think?

Because observation is the only thing you have when you first see a crime scene . . . A toothy smile.

You’re exactly correct—when you first arrive at a crime scene, you have no idea what you’re going to encounter. It’s up to you to notice everything—what looks or feels right, or out of place.

But, how do you know? The young woman didn’t bother raising her hand. If you don’t know anything about the situation, how will you know what’s out of place?

Good question! Decklin smiled, then pointed to a young man who seemed particularly interested. You, he said, pointing. What’s your name?

Devon.

Okay, Devon—I’m observing you have an answer to your classmate’s question. Am I right?

A grin. Yes, Sir.

Well, let’s have it! How will you know if something is out of place at a crime scene?

Well, some things will be obvious—like chairs tipped over, or something. Devon paused as if he were envisioning a crime scene. But, I think it’s more about the little stuff—you know, like stuff in the bathroom. The private stuff . . .

Decklin listened, enjoying the young man’s thinking process. If the newly-minted professor had to guess, Devon was an upperclassman, his sense of expensive style on full display. Not like he was trying to impress—it simply came naturally.

It was who he was.

That’s it—you’re exactly right! Although you probably don’t know the victim, you can get a good idea of what ‘should’ be there based on what’s called ‘pattern linking.’ Decklin paused, focusing his attention on Devon, making him feel more important than when he first sat down. For example—if your vic is a single woman and there’s an extra toothbrush on her bathroom counter, what might you think?

Well, I’d think whomever it belonged to probably didn’t live there—maybe a one-night stand.

Exactly—turn what’s there into what’s not there, and you give yourself a head start. Maybe your observations will mean something—or, maybe not. They will, however, keep you thinking . . .

So, for the next ninety minutes, Decklin Kilgarry somehow managed to survive his first class as an adjunct professor. By the time class ended, students engaged with each other, thrilled with their assignment for the next class. Think like a criminal, he told them. Until you do that, you’ll never have a good handle on your perp . . .

The students liked that, too—cop lingo made them feel as if they knew what they were doing. For Decklin?

A comfortable familiarity.

Well? How did it go? Cecily met him at the door, two glasses of wine in hand. And, she advised, don’t get used to this kind of special treatment . . .

Ah—instructions by the sip! Decklin laughed, dropped his briefcase by the front door, then accepted the glass. You must be psychic—I need this!

I thought you might—it’ll give you the strength to make it to the couch. A smile. Then, you can tell me everything that happened today . . .

Deal! Decklin shrugged off his coat, gave Cecily a quick kiss, then headed for the living room. Okay, he commented, waiting until she sat beside him. What do you want to know?

Cecily grinned, took a sip, then placed her glass on the end table. I want to know about the students—what were they like?

Feeling tension relax from his shoulders, Decklin leaned back, appreciating the support of the couch’s cushions. It was a pretty good-sized class—bigger than I anticipated.

Did they pay attention?

Most did—some didn’t, and I suspect they’re in it for the easy grade.

Cecily laughed. From you? I don’t think so! If any of them think that, they’re in for a rude awakening!

A sip. True—but, there were a couple of students who were interested right off the bat. A young woman—I didn’t get her name—and, a young man.

Did you get his name?

Decklin nodded, then turned catty-corner on the couch so he could see her better. Devon—and, I like the way he thinks.

In what way?

Well—when I asked questions, he didn’t come up with obvious answers. He was thinking deeper about what a detective would find on the surface . . .

Suddenly, Cecily jumped up, headed for the kitchen, then returned with a plate of cheese and crackers. I almost forgot!

So, there they stayed, chatting until it was time to get ready for bed. Do you feel as if you made the right decision, Cecily asked before turning out the light.

Decklin didn’t say anything for a few moments as he considered the differences between his last gig, and working with students. Good question . . . He waited until she snapped off the light, and was comfortable beside him. Not gonna lie—teaching is different!

Yes, but do you like it?

It’s probably a little too soon to tell—but, I have to admit, it’s pretty exciting to have a student who’s interested.

Oh, c’mon—you know darned well if the job’s for you!

Decklin laughed, then drew her to him, loving her more as she wriggled to get closer. To answer your question? He waited until she breathed a contented, soft sigh. I do—I really think I’m going to love it!

Nothing, but a gentle, purring snore.

Deep into the first semester, students appeared well-established, newcomers deciding where they fit, as well as whom they considered friends. Finally a familiar face around campus, Decklin beamed when a few dubbed him the ‘crime doc’—and, when it came time to register for the following semester, his class was one of the first to fill. I really can’t believe it, he mentioned to Cecily on his way out the door in early November.

Believe what? That your students love you?

Well . . .

Oh, please, she admonished as she handed him his jacket. It’s not too hard to see how much you love teaching—and, them.

So, with a smile and two smooches notched on his belt, Professor Decklin Kilgarry headed for the university campus, wondering how he was lucky enough to snag a job he never considered. Fate, he thought, as he reached the law building steps.

It was then he noticed.

Students weren’t smiling, a few dabbing their eyes and noses with a tissue. What the hell? Stopping at the bottom step, Decklin turned, sensing a change in the atmosphere. The air. Something happened . . .

Indeed.

Then, Devon Bryson’s voice from behind. Professor Kilgarry?

Decklin turned, noticing his student, too, seemed off. Devon! What can I do for you?

Did you hear?

Words Decklin instantly knew weren’t good. No—hear what?

Devon glanced at the ground, hoping his professor wouldn’t see the tears.

Too late.

Decklin gently took his student’s arm, leading him to a bench outside the main doors. What happened? Decklin waited a moment for Devon to collect himself. Take your time . . .

Within a few moments, Devon focused his attention on Professor Kilgarry. There’s been a murder . . .

What? Instantly, Decklin searched his memory banks for something he may have heard on the news, but wasn’t paying attention. Who? Where?

Greyson Garfield—here. On campus . . .

Again, Devon’s eyes brimmed, signaling a deep grief. A friend?

A nod.

I’m sorry. It was then Decklin morphed into detective mode. You’re sure it was murder?

I guess so—I overhead talk about two shots right between the eyes. Seems like murder to me . . .

Decklin was quiet for a moment, considering what his student just told him. Double tapped? If that’s true . . . Again, he focused on Devon. Then, we have work to do . . ."

Well, that was a statement.

We?

A smile. Of course—you’ll be invaluable during the investigation. A pause. Remember the first day of my class?

Another nod.

About how ‘observation’ is important . . .

Devon wasn’t quite sure what to say and, honestly, he really wasn’t certain if he wanted to be involved. Yeah, I remember . . .

So, think about the information you have to provide to official investigators—unofficial, as well.

I don’t know . . .

You, Decklin continued, and, the entire class. Of course, I suppose there’ll be those who aren’t interested, but, for the most part, I think a bunch of minds are better than one. Decklin paused. Don’t you?

Suddenly, Devon Bryson stood, shifting his backpack as he grabbed its straps. You can count on me, Professor Kilgarry—I knew Greyson better than anyone. If there’s something you want to know . . .

Excellent! Decklin, too, stood, turning toward the law building’s massive front doors. We have to make progress within the first forty-eight . . .

Yet, while that was true, a student murder placed Decklin in a tricky situation—fraternizing with students outside of class was verboten, a rule he imposed on himself. Meet me in my office at four o’clock—but, only if it doesn’t interfere with a class.

For the first time that day, Devon Bryson smiled. All classes are canceled—including yours.

Decklin stopped. Okay—plan B. Get a few of your closest friends, and meet me in an hour.

Do they have to be in your class?

As much as Decklin wanted to extend such a caveat, it wasn’t in the best interest of the case. No—anyone who knew the victim well, if you can.

Greyson didn’t have many friends—which, I think is odd, considering he was in with the theatre crowd. Devon paused, thinking of his friend. He told me last week he was in the Fall play—looking forward to it, too.

As Decklin listened, he resisted the urge to pull out his small, spiral notepad to jot down a few salient points. That’s good—it gives us something to go on.

So, with that, Decklin and his student parted, the new professor understanding one thing . . .

He had his first lead.

Chapter 2

As you might imagine , Greyson Garfield’s murder wasn’t taken lightly, administration issuing a dictum for all to cooperate with the authorities. No doubt merely words to many, but to those in Professor Kilgarry’s class?

Gauntlet laid.

First order of business?

Learn everything possible about the vic’s life—who he was, what he loved to do, and who took him seriously.

And, those who didn’t.

Tell me about Greyson, he prompted the friends who answered Devon’s plea for help.

He was really quite nice, Carly Gooding immediately responded, and, he didn’t deserve the crap he always took from a few of the people in the theatre department. Although she wasn’t in Professor Kilgarry’s class, she thought showing up to his meeting was the least she could do for the young man who had a crush.

What kind of crap?

A moment to think. Greyson was a nerd—and, he was crazy smart. Then, a pause. I guess that’s why a couple of the theatre kids made him cheat for them . . .

Made him cheat?

Carly nodded as she tapped her phone screen. Here’s a picture of him on stage—I’m really into plays and stuff, and I know he got a good part.

Devon’s turn. He did—but, Greyson told me there were a few who were really pissed about it.

As he always did, Decklin scribbled a few notes, then focused again on the young woman sitting across from him. Pissed? Why?

Carly glanced at Devon, unsure if the professor were serious. Because, she finally answered, they were jealous he got the lead.

Listening and watching her carefully, there was little doubt Carly Gooding had a gentle heart. Did he tell you that?

He didn’t have to—I witnessed it. She paused, recalling a few weeks earlier. A theatre guy had him up against the wall behind the theatre department . . .

What? Devon glanced at her, then returned his attention to Decklin. He never told me anything about it!

Well, it’s true—I saw it with my own eyes.

Do you know what they were saying? Another glance at his professor.

No, and I didn’t report it—but, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out when someone is being bullied. Especially when that someone is shoved against the wall with an arm crushing his throat! Nerve struck?

Yep.

Okay, Decklin quickly intervened. Those are great observations, Carly, and two things interest me . . .

Each student was quiet, instinctively knowing they were about to be schooled in the ways of a professional.

One—if Greyson Garfield were being victimized by students in the theatre department, why didn’t he say anything? Second—who was throwing their weight around?

You mean who was bullying him?

A nod.

I can tell you that—Archie Pennington. There were a few others there, but he was the one who had his arm against Greyson’s throat . . .

Tell me about him . . .

So, as each student participated in what they quickly dubbed the ‘crime doc’s round table,’ there was little doubt Mr. Pennington was rising to the top of the suspect list—of course, they didn’t have anyone else, but, still, it was something.

We dated when we were freshmen—but, now I know he isn’t anyone I choose to be around.  Carly glanced at Devon. You know him better than I do . . .

Devon’s green eyes narrowed, not appreciating the implication—if there were one. What the hell does that mean?

Nothing, other than the two of you ran in the same circles . . .

As Decklin listened, it was clear Carly Gooding had a strong opinion of those gifted with the silver spoon. Was there a reason? Maybe. The question was did her feelings about wealth tarnish what she witnessed . . .

Perhaps not the best thing to bring up at that moment.

The thing was Carly’s assertion wasn’t brimming with accusation—it was simply the way things were. Raised by two parents who worked their asses off to give her what they thought she deserved, it made sense her perspective may be a bit jaded. Even so, there was an edge to her Decklin didn’t quite understand. Okay, he