Chapter 3: The Case (Part I)

Frog and Elaine dragged through the front of the MU. Elaine let her more athletic friend get the door as she felt limp, like an overcooked ramen noodle, and the door normally stuck. To get her back, and also in a way thank her for trying to come to the rescue, Elaine bought an extra bubble tea from the vendor. So, when they arrived at the lounge seating section on the other side of the Union, they were both slurping at drinks filled with colored tapioca.

Before they slipped further into the cooled confines of the high-ceilinged building, Elaine let her eyes wander over a strange bronzed sculpture that appeared to be part of the current art display in the office near the front doors. One of the glass windows had been removed so that the giant coppery hand could reach out into the hall—changing the stream of student traffic to divert around it—and offer passersby a golden apple the size of her head. Sharp etched letters of black beveled in relief across the smooth surface of the fruit: “ΚΑΛΛΊΣΤ.”

She paused a moment, wondering if she’d have time to visit the gallery and get a better look at the art, but as she dawdled, Frog outpaced her. The green haired girl called out, “Elaine! Hurry it up!” without even looking back to see that she had dallied. With a soft squeak, Elaine disengaged herself and sped back to Frog’s side.

“You saw?”

Frog tossed a lock of emerald hair from her shoulder. “Hail Eris!”

Amused, Elaine smiled into her straw as she slurped up some bubble tea.

The lounge, a large set-off area from the main hubbub of the building, possessed a cutaway carpet of some indeterminate brown color that contrasted the sofas and soft chairs scattered in a slow spiral. Along one bricked wall a grand fireplace stood out, replete with fake logs and an electric fire—off at the moment—although Elaine had sometimes stopped to warm herself in front of it during the winter months. The logs were a plastic analog with LED lights within that simulated the gentle embers of a gently dying fire and heaters hidden further in the bricks would blow warm air.

Various students sat around the couches alone, and in threes. Most had laptops and small bottles of water at their sides. All had backpacks and intent expressions. One in particular caught Elaine’s eye.

She was taller than most. Sitting next to her the requisite backpack, but unlike any of the other students sitting by herself she had no laptop to divert her attention—instead she glared intensely at a PDA phone; her fingers jabbed at it with lethal motions as if directing stern and clinical warfare on its tiny surface. Certainly a student, but she dressed too well. Her tall, but stately frame, supported an expensive corporate style suit, with a ruffled blouse, and a jacket sporting only a two solitary spots of color: the maroon and gold of the ASU symbol and an American flag.

Hadaly hadn’t given a description of the client, just, “She said she’d recognize you,” but Elaine guessed she’d already sussed out the most likely individual in the room. Elaine waved Frog in the girl’s direction and started walking that way.

“Ah, good,” the girl said when she looked up from her phone. It was quickly deposited into her suit jacket pocket before she rose and offered a finely boned hand to Elaine. “Ms. Mercer,” she said, delivering a firm grip and an aristocratic shake. “And Ms. Kermit.”

Frog’s eyebrow went up when they shook hands and she cast Elaine a guarded look.

“Emily Early,” Elaine said, inflecting her voice as a greeting. “You’re the Secretary of the Treasury of the University Student Council.”

Up close, she didn’t look much like her press photos or the image that splashed on the campaign signs around the campus. The signs depicted a fair haired, pale skinned woman with a Nordic brow and vibrant features; the photographer shot her with chin-up, shoulders flung back, and smiling with all her bright-white teeth.  In person, the severity of Emily’s Norse blood produced a severe aspect to her gaze, giving her dark eyes a pedestal above a small, pointed nose and a sharp chin. Her blonde hair, loose and trickling over her shoulders, showed lengthening dark roots.

Her expensive clothing today appeared well-worn. Elaine spotted scuffs on her slick shoes, a button had been lost from the very bottom of her blouse, and small threads sprang up here and there from the hem of her dress where it had perhaps been torn and hastily repaired.

“And I will be again,” said Emily. The phone bleeped in her pocket and she tapped her breast, cutting it off. “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice. Your receptionist, she’s extremely quick on her feet. No sooner than I’d had this snag in my schedule than she coordinated this meeting. You have good help. That can make or break a person.”

Why would anyone start a conversation by talking about how they made the appointment? Elaine watched Emily skeptically. As things went, she currently held one of the most powerful positions in the student government. People recognized her on campus and between classes as a minor celebrity. Such a person would have never deigned to make small talk with someone like Elaine had they run across each other in the halls.

Uncertain of how to react, she just answered the comment. “Yes. She’s good at what she does.”

“You really must tell me what service she’s with. I could use a person like that.”

“Do you want to tell me why I’m here?”

Frog touched her shoulder and Elaine quieted.

“Of course… Please, sit. Surely you would like to get down to business.”

Emily gestured Elaine and Frog to a sofa while she took the more uncomfortable spot of perching on the edge of the brick hearth. A faraway look crossed her eyes when she glanced over their heads and across the room, her eyes darted slightly back and forth like she was reading from a teleprompter and she breathed out slightly. Another bleep from her phone interrupted her ritual, and she silenced it with a sharp tap.

“Not one for small talk. I can appreciate that,” she said. “Allow me then, to cut directly to the chase. It has come to my attention, by elements not entirely friendly to myself, that there is a possibility that this upcoming election is already in the bag.”

“You suspect voting fraud? Perhaps one of your political enemies means to rig the election against you?”

“No,” Emily said. “I am informed the fraud is in my favor. I will win. By a landslide.”