“Now if we could just get the patient to cooperate,” said Pascoe, pointing at Ray as she gathered up her things.
“What time are you picking me up?” he asked as she was heading toward the front door.
“10:00 A.M., not a minute before,” she replied on her way out.
“I was going to ask you to dinner,” said Stephanie, “but it appears that your colleague has taken care of that.”
As Stephanie was talking, Ray was looking at Jane Arden. She was at ease, relaxed and smiling. He felt very attracted to her, and it unnerved him.
“Jane,” he said, “other than us, did you show or discuss the Merchant letter with anyone else?”
“Stephanie and Jim Zeigler, the fellow at the prison.”
“Anyone else?”
“No one.”
“How are you doing? How’s the hand?” he asked.
“The hand is healing. The stitches come out sometime next week. But the real question is how are you doing? I’m so sorry about what happened to you. You go above and beyond your job description, and your reward is to almost get killed.” She gave him a warm smile. “And now it’s your turn to answer.”
“I feel fine, I just miss my coffee. I’m suffering from caffeine withdrawal.”
“How about pain?” asked Stephanie, entering the conversation.
“A few aches and pains, nothing really,” said Ray.
“He needs a few weeks up in Michigan walking the beaches or kayaking. That would bring a rapid recovery,” Stephanie explained.“It would be a good time to be there,” agreed Ray. “The weather is still warm and most of the tourists are long gone. The beaches are empty, and you can find a table in your favorite restaurant.”
41
Pascoe was back in her office by 7:00 P.M. when Seneca Carducci, dressed in a black linen suit, black shirt, and a white tie, arrived. She greeted him and offered him a chair.
“Professor Carducci, I really appreciate you coming in, especially in the evening. We’re trying to finish up the investigation on Hendrickson’s death, and there are a few details I want to check on again. I’ll probably go over some of the same material I covered last time.”
“I thought everything was over with.”
“It really is. There are just some odds and ends I’m still curious about. Last time we talked you suggested that Hendrickson was,” she paused as she looked for the appropriate phrase, “involved in relationships with a number of people.”
“That she was,” he responded in a rich baritone voice. “She was a female Walt Whitman, without the gift, of course.” Carducci rolled his eyes at Pascoe.
“Were there any women she was particularly close to, women she might have been having, let us say a romantic or sexual relationship with?”
“What time period are you asking about, the time of her death or the last two or three years?”
“Let’s start with the time of her death.”
“This past year she was involved with a doctoral student. She was on his committee. Fellow’s name is Josh Lord, teaches at some backwater community college. Lord’s a young stallion, pretty young wife, used to bring her and two sweet little kids into the office with him occasionally. I think he was just dicking Bobby Jo to get his dissertation accepted. He defended at the end of spring term. I don’t think he’s been around since.”
Pascoe made a note on Josh Lord. “The last time we talked, you indicated that she might have been involved with some women. Do you know if she was involved with anyone in the English Department?”
“Ms. Pascoe, she was involved with a lot of people.”
“Was there anyone in particular, that’s what I’m trying to find out.”
“And what I’m trying to tell you is that Bobby Jo was intimate with lots of folks, but close to no one. She was more like some men, if you know what I mean.”
Pascoe shook her head, “I don’t know what you mean.”
“She separated sex from relationships. Sex was sex, and relationships were relationships. Few women do that, it’s always about the relationship. I believe it has something to do with testosterone levels or that maternal thing.”
Pascoe persisted, “Let me ask the question again. Do you know if there was a woman she was especially close to, or a woman who wanted to be close to her?”
Carducci rubbed his chin with the fingers of his right hand. “Last year Barbara Castlemain seemed to hang around a lot. I think she was doing a divorce at the time. If they had a thing going, I think Bobby Jo probably dropped her for Josh. He was cute.”
“Did Professor Hendrickson have any enemies, people who might have been offended by her lifestyle, people who might have wanted to do her harm?”
Carducci got a broad grim. “Lot’s of folks were probably offended by her lifestyle. Hey, this ain’t Kansas, Dorothy, but it’s close. Way close.”
“Seriously,” Pascoe heard her voice. It was the one she used on her younger brother when he was irritating her. She modified her tone, “Was there anyone who....”
“I don’t think so. She was bizarre, but she was also warm and funny. Everyone in the department liked her. Even our crypto-Nazi seemed to have the hots for her at one time.”
“Who is that?” Pascoe asked, already writing down the answer.
42
Promptly at 10:00 on Tuesday morning Pascoe pulled into Elkin’s drive. He was waiting at the front door. As they drove across campus, she gave him a summary of her conversation with Seneca Carducci. She concluded by saying, “What a collection of characters.”
“They are that,” he agreed as they walked toward the carillon. The area was alive with activity. Students, most with backpacks, some on bikes and skateboards, filled the sidewalks near the carillon. A few sat on the widely spaced granite benches on the outer ring of cement walks that bordered the area or lounged on the lawns under the warm, morning sun. “Is there a killer in that crowd?”
“What’s our plan?” asked Pascoe, not responding to Ray’s question.
“I just want to walk through this, try to reproduce what Bensen might have done,” said Ray. “We’ll start with you unlocking the door.”
Ray watched Pascoe contend with the old lock on the carillon door. It took her several attempts to finally get the key to turn in the cylinder. After she had the door unbolted he said, “Lock it again, will you?”
Pascoe locked the door.
“Now open it with your left hand.”
Pascoe struggled with the lock until she was finally able to successfully manipulate the cranky mechanism. As she held the door for him, she gave him a knowing look. “Not something you would do if you were right handed.”
“Did you check on whether Bensen was left handed?”
“I talked with her office mate, Barbara Castlemain. She said she was positive that she was right handed.”
“Let’s take our time and walk through this,” he said.
Pascoe pulled the door shut; they stood for a minute and allowed their eyes to acclimate to the cool, dark interior.
“Time?” asked Ray.
“Ten-twenty.”
“Bensen jumped or was dropped at about ten,” he said. “This is about what the place would have looked like. Would you have turned on the lights if you were Bensen or someone carrying Bensen?”
“It’s pretty gloomy in here, but if you took a couple minutes for your eyes to adjust, there’s enough light from the windows to walk to the stairs with safety.”
“And the lights were off when you came in here the first time?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s climb the stairs.”
“Are you going to be able to do this?”
“I am perfectly okay.”
“But you are not to exert yourself.”
“We’ll go very slowly.” Elkins stopped at the first landing. “If you were Bensen on your way to kill yourself, what would you be thinking?”
“That’s a hard question. You’re asking me to logically explai
n the thoughts of an irrational person.”
Elkins shook his head and made an affirmative hum.
“I guess if I were going to do this, I would be thinking that this act would really show those dirty bastards who didn’t give me tenure,” said Pascoe. “I would think that I was laying the ultimate guilt trip on them. I might even see this as a romantic gesture, something that would make me a martyr of sorts. From what we’ve heard, Bensen was passionate about her beliefs.”
Elkins stopped on the next landing to catch his breath. “And if you were her killer?”
“I think he....”
“He?” Ray asked.
“Look at these stairs. I’m assuming that she would be unconscious. It would take a strong person to carry her up these stairs. So it would be either a ripped man or an Amazon woman.”
“Why are you assuming that she was unconscious?”
“I don’t know, it just seemed that....”
“I assumed that, too,” said Ray, “but I may be changing my mind. Let’s deal with that later. If you were the murderer you would....”
“Assumptions, assumptions. I’m assuming the killer is reasonably bright and thorough. He wants to make her death appear to be a suicide.” She added as an aside, “Something that he has succeeded in doing.” She paused and waited for Elkins at the next landing. “I’d want to make sure that the only prints were hers. I’d want to make sure that I could get in and out of here without being seen, and I’d want to make sure I didn’t have any trouble with her. Wouldn’t want the autopsy to show injuries that couldn’t be attributed to the fall.”
When they reached the upper level, Elkins said, “Continue.”
“Again, it depends. If she were unconscious, I’d just need to push her through the window, putting her prints on the chair and key first. And I’d leave the chair under the window to give the impression that’s how she climbed up.”
“The prints on the chair?” asked Elkins.
“Left hand. That may be a careless mistake.”
“Careless, but natural. We’ll assume our killer is left-handed. After she goes out the window, what would you be concerned with?”
“Getting out of here and not being seen.”
“How would you do that?”
“The window faces east, the door is to the west. Given the confusion during the first few minutes after she fell, he might be able to slip out the door and not be noticed. Or he might try to wait until the excitement was over, but that wouldn’t be safe because sooner or later we would be coming into the building.”
“Let’s go down to the ground level,” said Elkins. “What would the killer be feeling as he made this walk?”
“It depends. He might be in an absolute panic, or if he thinks that his ruse is undetectable, he might be feeling confident—mission completed and all that kind of stuff. But he still had to get away without his presence engendering any suspicion.”
When they reached the ground floor, Elkins switched on the lights, knelt, and with his right hand grasped the corner of a large threadbare, oriental rug that was centered in the room. He pulled the rug off to the side. They gazed at the slate flooring covered with a fine layer of grit that had filtered through the carpet. He pulled the rug back to its original position and grabbed the opposite corner. A little more than a foot from the edge was a steel door, hinged at one side and level with the rest of the floor.
“You knew this was here,” said Pascoe.
“I thought it was possible.”
“Where does it go?”
“There are tunnels that run to all the buildings on central campus. Most of the mechanical systems are run through them—steam pipes, electric lines, phones and cable lines. The first time we were here, I wasn’t thinking murder. But I’ve had several strange dreams the last few days. I just suddenly saw the whole thing.”
“And you know who the killer is?”
“No. I just know that he had a way to get in and out without anyone seeing him, or her.”
Pascoe bent down and looked at the door closely. “Doesn’t seem to open from this side.”
Elkins studied the door. “The lock must be in the tunnel. You would push it open into this room from down there,” Ray pointed in the direction of the door. “We’ll have to talk with John Stockton in maintenance and get a map of the system. We need to find out where you can enter the tunnels and not be seen.”
43
John Stockton, the director of building and grounds, laid the blueprint out on a large drawing board that backed up against the steel-framed windows of his office. He swung a fluorescent lamp over the board and pushed the red button on the top. The twin bulbs flickered, then glowed.
“Sorry the map’s such a mess,” he said. “When the tunnels were first dug, sometime in the twenties when the original powerhouse was built, they were designed to carry only steam pipes and electrical cables. Then phone lines and extra power and steam lines were installed as new buildings were constructed. In recent years, cabling from the West Campus Computer Center has been added. The tunnels on central campus are seven feet tall and nine feet wide. Sounds big, but there’s so damn much stuff down there these days you can hardly move. We’ve drawn in all the new additions to the prints, makes them awful busy looking. But,” he pointed with his index finger, “if you follow these lines, you can pretty much see where the tunnels run. The double lines indicate the perimeters of the buildings.”
“When we were in the carillon, it looked as though the door could only be opened from the tunnel side,” said Ray.
“It’s my understanding that originally that’s how the system was designed. Probably wanted to make sure the students couldn’t get in. I can remember when these doors didn’t even have locks, just slide bolts on the tunnel side. The whole system had to be changed about twenty years ago when we had an electrical fire in one of the tunnels and there was no way to get easy access to the area.”
“How was it changed?” asked Pascoe.
Stockton pointed to an area enclosed in a rectangle made by a red highlighter pen. “All the doors that can be entered from the surface are highlighted.” He pointed out several more. “We installed doors that can be unlocked from either side at the end of every run. Then, as we get the funds, we’re slowly replacing the rest of the doors. The door in the carillon is one of the few that hasn’t been changed. It’s probably the least used door in the system.”
“These are keyed....”
“With the AU001 keys.” said Stockton.
“Are maintenance people in the tunnels on a regular basis?” asked Ray.
“One of our guys does a walk-through once a week. He’s just visually checking on things, replacing light bulbs. After we bring the heating system up every fall, usually about the middle of October, we inspect for leaks more often. Other than that, unless we’re pulling wiring or cabling, there’s seldom anyone down there.”
“How about in the last few weeks, any work going on?”
“I don’t think so, let me check.”
Stockton went back to his desk and started reviewing schedules on his terminal. After he went through several screens, he said, “Just as I thought, nothing major scheduled. That doesn’t mean a phone man or someone else hasn’t been down there, but there was no major work scheduled.”
“So,” said Pascoe, “what you’re telling us is that if someone had an AU001 key to gain access to the system, they could move from building to building with almost no chance of being seen.”
“Most of the time, especially at night and on weekends,” agreed Stockton. “Do you want to go down there and look around?”
“Yes,” said Ray. “Where would we enter the system?”
“You can start at the power house, but it’s real uncomfortable walking because you have to sorta bend down to keep from hitting your head on the pipe hangers. If you want to look at the access door below the carillon, you probably want to enter here,” he pointed, “at West Foundation Hall or at Central
Campus Engineering.”
“Let’s go in at Central Campus Engineering. I’d rather not have people in the English department see us snooping around the tunnel system,” said Ray.
44
Stockton unlocked the steel door and pulled it open. He passed out hard hats to Pascoe and Elkins and donned one himself, “Watch your heads. There are lots of bolt ends below the pipe hangers.”
As he waited for Stockton to close the door, Elkins looked down the tunnel. Steam pipes and electrical conduit hung from the ceiling and ran along both walls. The lights, bulbs in protective steel cages, formed luminous pools separated by areas of gray haze. The air was warm, dry, and stale.
Stockton squeezed past them and led the way, carrying a fiberglass stepladder. Pascoe followed carrying an evidence kit. Ray was in the rear. They worked their way down the tunnel until Stockton stopped and turned to them, “You’ll really have to watch your heads here, don’t lose your hats.” He bent down and moved into an alcove on the left side of the tunnel. The three of them could barely fit into it. Steel rungs protruded from the concrete to form a ladder to the trap door.
“What’s the plan now?” Stockton asked, looking over at Pascoe.
“I’d like to dust these rungs for prints. I’ll do the low ones first, and then with the ladder I’ll get the higher ones and the latch.”
Elkins and Stockton moved to the side as she began the process.
“Do you have enough light?” asked Stockton.
It’s adequate,” she responded. It took her a few minutes to check the lower rungs. Then she turned to Ray and said, “These have been carefully wiped. Should I do the rest?”
“Might as well, maybe the perp missed one.”
Pascoe, with Stockton’s help, maneuvered the ladder in place, checking the last two rungs and the handle on the trap door. When she finished, she looked down at Ray and said, “Nothing, not even a partial.” She came down the ladder and stowed things back into the evidence case.
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