"Yes," continued Pamela, "what we perceive as pitch is really the number of waves or frequency of waves within a certain space. That is, a high pitched sound," and Pamela sang a very high note, "would have far more waves within a certain space," and she drew many evenly spaced waves together, "than a low pitched sound," and she sang a low note, "which would have the waves longer and spread out more like this" and she drew in the same space, fewer evenly spaced waves together.
Pamela continued to explain acoustic technology and soon, before she realized it, several hours had whizzed by. With some final words and an explanation of next week’s reading assignment, she dismissed the class for the evening. As she was gathering her belongings, she called to Kent to come over.
"Kent," she said, "please, don't consider me an old fogy, but would you be so kind as to go down and check on the lab one more time? Just be sure it's locked."
"Sure, Dr. B.," he answered, "I'm on my way." He headed out the door, taking his book sack with him. Pamela followed the last few students out the door, and then turned and closed the seminar door. This door, she mused, didn’t need to be locked because there wasn't anything in this room of value--at least not of value to most thieves who were looking for equipment and devices that they could sell readily on the black market. The department was more than worried about possible theft in their multi-million dollar computer lab, but the rest of the old dilapidated building contained little worth stealing. She headed down the hallway towards the lab and the parking lot entrance. Just then, Kent came running back towards her from the lab, yelling.
"Dr. Barnes! Dr. Barnes!" he screamed, "Come quick! Come to the lab! It's horrible! Hurry!"
Chapter 2
Pamela followed Kent, running behind him around the corner of the main hallway towards the experimental computer laboratory at the far end of the side hallway. She could see in the distance that the door to the lab was wide open and the lights were on. Kent ran through the doorway and Pamela followed on his heels. He went immediately to the first row of computer carrels, to Carrel #4, one of the department’s special "souped up" computers. Pamela could see a woman in the carrel bent over the computer desk, a tousled head of blonde curls. As she drew closer, she realized that the woman was Charlotte Clark.
"It's Dr. Clark," said Kent, "Dr. Barnes! I think she's dead!"
Pamela's heart seemed to stop beating as she froze in place, staring at Charlotte, who was seated, bent over the desk. She saw immediately that the power cord from a set of headphones was wrapped tightly around her neck, the headphones themselves hanging uselessly down the side of Charlotte's neck. The side of Charlotte's face was tinged grayish-blue.
"Oh, my God!" Pamela whispered, suddenly digging in her purse on her shoulder. After a few seconds of scrounging, she located her cell phone and tapped in the number for the campus police. The call was answered immediately.
"Please," she spoke as calmly as she could, "please, come quickly. Someone has been hurt...I think dead."
Kent stood by, slightly behind her, waiting as she made the all important call. She continued to speak into her cell phone.
"I'm at Blake Hall, on campus. The experimental computer lab...on the main floor--on the north side, by the parking lot entrance--all the way to the end of the side hallway." She turned her head to Kent and whispered to him, "They're on their way. Stay here."
"Don't worry, Dr. B." he responded, "I'm not going anywhere."
She returned her attention to the cell phone as she heard the voice ask additional questions.
"Yes, this is Dr. Barnes, Pamela Barnes. I'm in the Psychology Department. I just found her...Dr. Clark...here...in the lab." She looked over at Charlotte. "Please, hurry!" she urged into the cell phone. Then she listened as the voice at the other end was evidently giving her instructions.
"Okay, just a minute." She handed the cell phone to Kent. "Hold this and stay on the line," she said to him. Then she carefully bent over Charlotte Clark and placed her hand firmly on Charlotte's neck, feeling for a pulse. There was none. After a few seconds, she then gingerly bent down close to Charlotte’s face to listen for breath noises. Charlotte's head was turned to the left, her mouth open. Pamela placed her ear close to Charlotte's mouth. All she sensed was the smell of cigarette smoke—Charlotte was a habitual smoker. It was quite obvious to Pamela that there was no breath coming from Charlotte Clark's body. She was dead.
She then stood up and stepped back from the body, her eyes never leaving the corpse. As she held her hand out to Kent, he placed the cell phone back in it.
"I just checked for pulse and breathing sounds," she told the police dispatcher on the phone. "I couldn't feel or hear anything." She continued listening to the voice and the obvious directions that were being given. "No," she answered into the phone, "Don't worry. I won't touch anything. Yes, I’ll stay right here." She turned her head to Kent and whispered to him, "Kent, please go to the outside entrance and direct the campus police here when they arrive. It should be any minute now."
"Right, Dr. B," he said, hurrying out the lab door, "I'm on my way!"
With Kent's departure, Pamela was alone. As she stared down at the body of Charlotte Clark, it suddenly dawned on her exactly what she was seeing. This was not a natural death. Charlotte didn't keel over from a sudden heart attack. The power cord wrapped around her neck made it perfectly clear that Charlotte had been murdered. Oh, my God, she thought. Here they were worried about lab security because of the fear of theft. No one had even considered the possibility that anyone was actually in physical danger when they were alone in the lab. The lab was Charlotte's domain--her pride and joy. It was her efforts that had secured the funding for the lab. She spent many hours here. To think that she would actually die in the place of her glory. It was horrible.
Poor Charlotte. No, thought Pamela, Charlotte wasn’t one of her favorite persons. She was abrasive and confrontational, but Pamela had never personally suffered any of Charlotte’s verbal attacks—as Mitchell had earlier this evening. Oh, my God, what had happened here tonight?
As she stood there looking at Charlotte and contemplating all of the possibilities, she could hear Kent's voice and the voices of several other people--probably the police--coming down the hallway. Kent entered the lab, followed by medical personnel and two uniformed officers who quickly took over. She and Kent stood back, out of the way. The officers told them to wait because the local detectives would want to question them when they arrived.
She and Kent edged to the back of the lab and sat in two carrels in the last row of computers where they waited for at least twenty minutes. The lab was cold—to protect the equipment—and well lit, much better lit than the rest of the old building. Pamela found herself shivering; she wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or her own fear. Finally, the local police arrived and added to the crazy scene. Eventually, a tall man in a shabby grey suit and overcoat strode over to them and introduced himself. Pamela and Kent rose to greet him.
"Ms. Barnes?" he said, holding out his hand, "I'm Detective Shoop." She shook his hand perfunctorily. "Ms. Barnes," said Shoop, "were you the one who discovered the body?" He had a droopy sad face with lids that hung over his eyes like wrinkled prunes.
"No, my graduate assistant Kent Drummond, here, did," she said.
"All right." The detective motioned for them to be seated again as he pulled out a chair for himself from one of the carrels, and the threesome gathered in a circle at the back of the lab. "Let's talk about the details of all of this a bit," he said.
Pamela and Kent sat close together on their lab chairs. Pamela was clutching her jacket and purse and Kent was still holding tightly to his backpack. Shoop straddled the small rolling lab chair from behind.
"Now, start at the beginning," said the tall detective, leaning over the back of the chair and sleepily eyeing the two of them
"We’d just finished Dr. Barnes’ seminar," stated Kent. He glanced at Pamela.
"When was that?" interrupted Shoop.
"About five to nine," answered Pamela, "I checked my watch as I was leaving the seminar room."
"Good," nodded Shoop, then he pointed to Kent, indicating that he should continue. Shoop reached in his suit pocket and pulled out a large cloth handkerchief and wiped his nose firmly. Then he replaced the hanky in his pocket.
"Uh, Dr. Barnes wanted me to check to see if the lab was locked, so I came down here to check."
"Is this laboratory typically left unlocked?" Shoop asked, directing this comment to Pamela.
"No, never," she responded firmly. "There is so much expensive equipment here. Only faculty members have keys, and graduate students can check out keys only with a faculty member's permission."
"Hmmm," said Shoop, thinking and biting his lower lip. "Continue."
"When I got here," said Kent, "the door was open..."
"Open?" asked Shoop, “Is that normal?”
Kent thought a moment. "Not for this time of night, no. That's what struck me as odd right away. I mean, it’s usually closed and locked when the last grad assistant leaves for the day. Hardly anyone uses it this late. I figured that a faculty member must be in the lab working late and when I saw Dr. Clark, that's what I thought it was--until I saw how she was..."
"Yes," said Shoop, cutting him off. "Then what did you do?”
"I ran back to the seminar room to get Dr. Barnes," he responded.
"Did you see anyone in the lab? Or near the lab, either before or after you first entered at nine o’clock?" Shoop asked the young man.
"No. No one,” replied Kent. “The building was deserted except for Dr. Barnes and me."
Another man in a suit and overcoat arrived and waved a greeting to Detective Shoop, who pointed him towards the body.
"The coroner," announced Shoop. He redirected his interest back to Pamela and Kent. "Now, Mr. Drummond, did you or Ms. Barnes touch the body or anything around the
body or in the lab after you entered?"
"No," said Kent, "I didn't touch anything."
"I touched Charlotte," responded Pamela. "I checked her pulse and listened for breath sounds. The police operator directed me to do that."
"Yes," nodded Shoop, "yes, that's fine. Did you touch anything else?"
"No, nothing." she responded.
"All right," Shoop said, standing. "Mr. Drummond, I'm going to have you go with Officer Kline, here." He motioned for one of the uniformed officers to come over. "He’ll ask you some more questions, standard procedure, and then he’ll see that you’re returned safely to your residence." The uniformed officer escorted Kent out of the laboratory. Pamela remained seated.
"Now, Ms. Barnes," began the lanky detective, looking around. "Is there some place more private we could talk?"
"Tonight?" she asked. "Couldn't this wait until tomorrow? I'm so tired. So drained emotionally. I really need to go home."
"I understand, Ms. Barnes," said the detective, "But, I'm sorry. I must ask you some questions right now, while all of this is still fresh in your mind." He looked at her expectantly.
"I guess we can go to my office," she said, sighing, "It's upstairs."
"Fine," he responded and started to lead her out of the lab, his dark overcoat flapping against his legs as he walked.
"Detective," she said, stopping him, hesitating, "Could I first please call my husband? He's probably worried that I'm not home yet."
"Sure," stated Shoop, returning to his chair and reseating himself, obviously intending to wait for her while she made her call. Pamela again reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone. She pressed the number key for her home. Her husband answered almost immediately.
"Hey, Babe," he said, "Where are you?"
"Oh, Rocky," she said, tears now welling up, "I...I ...won't be home for a while. There was an...an accident here." Then she added quickly, sensing his concern, "I'm fine. I'm fine, but...one of our faculty has died. The police are here. I'm going to be here a bit longer."
"Do you need me to come get you?" he asked. She could hear his voice catch.
"No," she said, gulping. "I'm really fine. I just need to talk to the police a bit more. I'll explain everything when I get home. Oh, Rocky..."
"Yes, Babe?"
"Please, wait up."
"You know it."
She hung up and slowly put her phone away. Then as Detective Shoop gestured for her to lead the way to her office, she headed out of the lab, with a quick final look toward the carrel that contained the body of Charlotte Clark.
Chapter 3
She couldn't believe she was still here--still in the building this late at night. She placed her key in the lock and opened her office. Shoop immediately brushed past her, reached for the light switch, which he found instinctively to the left of the door. Bright stark fluorescent light illuminated her usually cheerful space. Shoop strode to her paisley sofa, removed his overcoat, and laid it over the arm. Then he sat perfunctorily in the middle. He gestured for her to take a place at her desk.
"Have a seat, Ms. Barnes," he motioned, pulling his small notebook and pen from his shirt pocket. She moved to her desk, dumped her belongings on top and sat in her swivel chair. Usually she preferred to lounge on the sofa. It was more comfortable and she had discovered over the years that if she allowed students to take up a position on her couch, they had a tendency to stay there for a long time. Please don’t let this be the case with Shoop, she prayed. She desperately wanted to go home to Rocky. She needed to feel his arms around her and hear him tell her this was all a bad dream.
Shoop crossed one leg over the other and leaned back in the soft pillows of her sofa. He looked entrenched. Not what she wanted.
"All right, Ms. Barnes," he started, flipping through the pages of the notebook and glancing at the notes he’d taken in the lab. "Let's start at the beginning. When did you arrive here?"
"You mean tonight?" she asked, somewhat confused.
"Yes," he answered. "You weren't here all day?"
"No, sir," she said. She was sitting up straight in her desk chair, not feeling one bit relaxed. She knew she had nothing to hide and yet this was quickly beginning to feel like an interrogation.
"When did you first arrive at the building today?" he asked, rephrasing his question, and poising his pen for her response.
"I got here this morning around nine o'clock, but I went home for dinner about five o'clock and then returned at six," she described.
"Is this your regular daily pattern?" he asked, now munching thoughtfully on the end of the pen, his sleepy brown eyes watching her, as he glanced over the tops of his rimless glasses.
"No," she said, swallowing, "only on Tuesdays. I have a graduate seminar on Tuesday nights."
"I see," he nodded. "Hmm," he added, changing positions. "All right, take me again through every step from the time you entered the building at six."
"All right," she said. "I parked in the lot. One of my students, Kent Drummond, you know, you met him ...”
"Right," he cut her off. He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his nose. "Continue with your story."
She suddenly felt defensive. "It's not a story," she said. "I'm just telling you what actually happened."
"Right, right," he said in a practiced soothing voice, "Just continue." He shoved the hanky back in his pocket.
"Kent met me at my car."
"Where did he come from? The building?" asked Shoop.
"No, I believe he’d just arrived. His car was parked behind mine."
"Fine," answered the detective. "Go on."
We walked into the building together," Pamela continued, "He went directly to the seminar room and I stopped at the main office."
"Did anyone see you in the office?"
"I was just going to say, I stopped at the office because Phineas Ottenback, one of my colleagues, wanted to talk to me. I stood in the hallway for just a few minutes talking to Phineas and then he headed upstairs to his class and I went into the office to get my ma
il."
"Where did this Phineas Ottenback come from?" said Shoop, holding up his hand to slow her down, "Did you see?"
"At first, from the main office. But, originally, I suppose, he came from his office. That's at the other end of the hall."
"Near the lab?" he asked.
"Yes, near the lab. Several faculty members have offices in the side hallway that ends at the lab."
"Who?" he asked.
"Let's see," she answered, "Rex Tyson is on the left as you face the lab, the graduate students' office is on the right, Phin's office is next to Rex's. Then Charlotte's office is at the end of the hall, directly opposite the lab. Laura Delmondo's office is next to Charlotte's. Dr. Marks's office--he's the head of our department--is off the departmental office which is directly opposite the main entrance to the building."
“Are those the only faculty offices on the main floor?"
"They’re the only ones in this wing. There are two other offices in the other wing of the building--the animal wing. Bob Goodman and Arliss MacGregor teach all the animal psychology classes and their offices are located in that wing."
"And your office is here on the second floor," he said. "Are there any other faculty offices up here?"
"Yes," Pamela answered, "Just Dr. Bentley's which is directly across the hall from mine and Dr. Swinton's which is next to Dr. Bentley's."
"Other than this Dr. Ottenback," he noted, jotting down this information in his notebook, "did you notice any other faculty members in the building tonight?"
"Yes," she answered. "Dr. Marks was in his office talking to Charlotte, but I just heard them, I didn’t really see them."
“You’re sure you heard the victim, Charlotte Clark in Dr. Marks’ office?”
“Yes,” answered Pamela, “and I heard her leave and walk down the hall shortly after I entered my classroom.” She looked down at her hands folded in her lap. Just how much of what she’d heard between Mitchell and Charlotte should she reveal?
Sounds of Murder Page 2