Murder in the Dorm

by C. G. Prado

  MURDER in the DORM

  by C.G. Prado

  ©2015 by C.G. Prado

  Published 2015 by C.G. Prado

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without written permission, except for brief quotations to books and critical reviews. This story is a work of fiction. Characters, businesses, places, and events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1: The First Wednesday

  Chapter 2: The First Thursday

  Chapter 3: The First Friday

  Chapter 4: The First Weekend

  Chapter 5: The First Monday

  Chapter 6: The First Tuesday

  Chapter 7: The Second Wednesday

  Chapter 8: The Second Thursday

  Chapter 9: The Second Friday

  Chapter 10: The Second Weekend

  Chapter 11: The Second Monday

  Chapter 12: The Second Tuesday

  Chapter 13: The Third Wednesday

  Chapter 14: The Third Thursday

  Chapter 15: The Third Friday

  Chapter 16: The Third Weekend

  Chapter 17: The Third Monday

  Chapter 18: The Third Tuesday

  Chapter 19: The Fourth Wednesday

  Chapter 20: The Fourth Thursday

  Chapter 21: The Fourth Friday

  Chapter 22: The Fourth Weekend

  Chapter 23: The Thirteenth Monday

  Chapter 24: The Thirteenth Tuesday

  Chapter 25: The Fourteenth Wednesday

  Chapter 26: The Fourteenth Thursday

  Chapter 27: The Fourteenth Friday

  Chapter 29: The Fourteenth Monday

  Chapter 30: The Fourteenth Tuesday

  Chapter 31: The Fifteenth Wednesday

  Chapter 33: The Fifteenth Thursday

  Chapter 34: The Last Friday

  Chapter 35: The Last Weekend

  Chapter 37: The Last Monday

  Chapter 38: The Last Tuesday

  Chapter 39: The Last Wednesday

  Chapter 40: The Thirtieth and Last Thursday

  Chapter 1

  The First Wednesday

  Charlie Douglas was still getting used to his new office. At the end of the Fall term the philosophy department had moved into the new Lipson Hall. His office was smaller than the old one, but had a good view of the campus and even a bit of Lake Ontario. What Charlie regretted was that unlike his old office, which was at the end of a long hall and distant from the department’s main office, the new one was just one door down from where the secretary and administrative assistant held court. Still, the view was worth the noise in the hall made by students waiting to hand in papers or needing to see someone about the gross unfairness of their latest mark.

  On Wednesdays Charlie had no classes and this morning he was finishing a second cup of coffee, steeling himself to start work on a new paper he planned to do. His door was open, as usual, and he almost choked on a mouthful of coffee when Detective Pam DeVries appeared in the doorway.

  “Hello, Charlie; I hope you remember me?”

  It had been two years since Charlie was involved with DeVries and her partner, Dan Bolster, in solving the murder of a colleague, Barrett Wilson, and a related killing (Murder at the Break). DeVries looked as good now as then.

  “Of course I remember you. Come in; sit down. Coffee?”

  “Thank you, but no to the coffee. I won’t take much of your time. I’m afraid that my new partner, Guy Matson, and I are here on business and I wanted to ask you a question. Before I start, though, I need to say that when Professor Wilson was killed and we first met, you were a great help with the case but I told you too much about our investigation. This time around I need to be more careful. I’m up for promotion and I don’t know Guy as well as I knew my old partner. I’m telling you this so you won’t be offended or puzzled by my reticence.”

  “I understand completely. We did get the killer, though. I just wish we’d found out what happened to those rare books.”

  “I know, that bugs me, too, but we got the killer and that’s what matters. Now, let me ask my question: did you know a student in Computing Science named Kevin Kelsey? He was in his last term before graduating in the Spring. Kelsey was found dead in his dorm room early this morning.”

  “No, I didn’t know him. If he did take one of my courses, I’ve no recollection of it. Let me ask our secretary to check, if you have a minute?”

  “Certainly; go ahead.”

  Rather than picking up the phone, Charlie went to the main office and asked Jodie Anderson, the department secretary, to look up Kevin Kelsey, mentioning that Kelsey was a senior. Her routine reaction told him that she’d not yet heard about Kelsey being found dead, as he feared she might have. Charlie hadn’t wanted to ask her about Kelsey on the phone if she’d heard. She’d also remember DeVries, so the detective must have found his new office without asking Jodie where it was.

  “Sorry, Dr. Douglas, he’s not listed in your past courses. Let me try others.”

  After a minute Jodie informed Charlie that Kelsey had taken only one philosophy course, an introductory course in his freshman year. Ironically, it had been Barrett Wilson’s introductory course, so that was, literally, a dead end.

  Back in his office, Charlie informed DeVries that Kelsey had taken only one philosophy course, but with Barrett Wilson.

  “So we won’t get any information on Kelsey from this department. Okay, let me tell you what I can because I’m hoping you’ll ask your colleagues about Kelsey and pass on anything we can use. As I said, he was found in his dorm room this morning. The medical examiner’s preliminary estimate is that he died between eleven last night and one this morning. He was struck on the head. The medical examiner thinks that was the cause of death, but we won’t know for certain till the autopsy. Nothing seems to have been disturbed in his room, so it wasn’t a robbery. It looks like a bad argument gone wrong. There was no sign of a struggle, so the blow was probably a surprise to Kelsey. He was struck with a heavy bookend we found by the body. The other bookend was still on the bureau near where the body fell, adding to the impression that this was a spontaneous thing and not premeditated.”

  “I take it you’ve not had time to track down a motive or get the names of possible suspects?”

  “No; we’ve been processing the crime scene. Now I have to go back to headquarters, but I thought I’d drop by in case you might have known something about Kelsey. I almost didn’t find you, by the way; I first went to your old building.”

  “Yes; we moved here at the break between terms. I’ll ask around about Kelsey and get back to you. And good luck with the promotion.”

  DeVries thanked Charlie and left. He sat and pondered, his projected paper forgotten. What struck him was that within a couple of years, Meredith University, an elite private institution, had been host to two on-campus homicides, Barrett Wilson and now Kevin Kelsey. He had mixed feelings about this second killing. He felt relieved not to be involved, but also disappointed he wasn’t involved. He checked the time and was glad to see that lunch wasn’t far off. Perhaps someone at the Club table would know something about Kelsey. With that thought Charlie forced himself to concentrate on his new project.

  At a few minutes to twelve Charlie locked his office and took the stairs to the first floor. Going out of Lipson Hall he was again impressed with the building’s well-planned layout. The back of Lipson Hall had the usual parking area, but the front was nicely landscaped and the view from the entryway, like that from his office, allowed one to see Lake Ontario. Lipson was on a small rise that sloped down to the other buildings a
nd, eventually, the lakeshore. The Faculty Club was one of the smaller buildings between Lipson and the lake, and Charlie now had a shorter walk to lunch than he’d had before. Well, Meredith could afford to pay for good architects.

  Though it was barely past noon when Charlie got there, the Club table had half of its fourteen seats taken, six by regulars and one by Marcela Reilly, a petite and talkative M.D. Charlie had known for years but who usually had a sandwich in her office and went to the Club only if she had a guest. Charlie guessed why she was there and wasn’t disappointed.

  “Well, Charlie, going to tell us about Meredith’s latest ‘incident’?”

  “That what you all have been talking about?”

  “What else? Everyone’s heard, but I’m sure you know more about what happened, given your history.”

  “Well, an hour and a half ago our department secretary still hadn’t heard about it. I did have a detective ask me if I knew the student, but I didn’t learn any more than that he’d been killed.”

  “So you do know more. Some of us heard a body had been found in one of the dorms, but it might have been an accident or an overdose.”

  Several others concurred and they all looked expectantly at Charlie.

  “Okay, unlike a couple of years ago, I’m being careful. All I’ll say is that the student was killed. His name was Kevin Kelsey. He was in his fourth year in Computing. I didn’t know him. Anyone here have him as a student?”

  “Kevin Kelsey? Yes. Kelsey was in my class last year. He took my course on the history of science. He seldom spoke and was getting mediocre marks. He never approached me outside of class. All I know that might be useful is that he seemed close to an exchange student from St. Andrews, a guy named Lawrence McDermott who also took the course. I get a sprinkling of computing types along with the usual physics and chemistry students.”

  The speaker, Evan Jones, was new to the history department. Charlie knew him only to nod hello to, but what he’d said about Kelsey’s friend would interest DeVries.

  Talk over lunch continued but Charlie learned nothing more. When he got back to his office he called DeVries. She was out, so he left a message with McDermott’s name and mention of Jones, Charlie’s source. He then tried to concentrate on his paper.

  Meredith University, having wisely passed on becoming a publicly supported institution, had flourished and attracted students as good as the best Ivy League schools. Despite its wealth and a large number of annual applications, Meredith kept its enrollment at twelve thousand. The main objective was to maintain an enviable staff-student ratio and to insure that students had ready access to their instructors and as much personal attention as possible. This policy paid off in three important ways: Meredith had a sterling reputation, its alumni were well above average in terms of career success, and they proved very generous to the university.

  Charlie finally admitted he was too distracted, so he might as well go home. He shut down his laptop, slipped it into his briefcase, and went to his car. When he got to their town house, or what was called a row house in less desirable neighborhoods, he found Kate, his wife, sitting in the living room. She obviously had been waiting for him.

  “I heard on the news there’s been another murder. You’re going to get involved, aren’t you?”

  “No. I did get a visit from Pam DeVries but she only came to me to see if I’d known Kelsey. Now, would dinner out put you in a more conciliatory mood?”

  Kate was clearly not mollified but went for her coat.

  Chapter 2

  The First Thursday

  Charlie woke early and a bit out of sorts. The night before he and Kate discovered that Sandoval’s, their favorite restaurant in Kingsford, had closed since their last visit. The sign on the door had been uninformative, thanking patrons and expressing regret for the need to close. The front window was papered over and a “For Lease” sign made it final. Charlie and Kate had decided to just go home. Charlie had opened an expensive bottle of California chardonnay for consolation purposes and they’d made do with left-over salmon croquets. They’d gone to bed without mentioning Meredith’s latest homicide.

  As usual, Kate didn’t wander into the kitchen until Charlie had finished his morning coffee and muffins and was getting up to shower. It was with some surprise that Charlie realized, as he was getting into his car, that he’d not given Kelsey’s death a thought since his brief conversation about it with Kate and their going off to the dinner they never had. That would soon change.

  Predictably, in the department main office Jodie, the secretary, and Phoebe McMillan, the administrative assistant, were talking about Kelsey’s killing with Amanda Rankin, the department head who, happily, was serving the final semester of what Charlie considered an unproductive three-year term. He joined them for a few minutes, deflected the inevitable questions, and soon knew there was nothing to learn from them. Charlie went to his office and started getting ready for his morning class.

  The class was a fourth-year epistemology course and had only a dozen students. They were all serious about the subject and there was no chatter about Kelsey. It was only when the students were leaving that Chantal Oliver, a woman Charlie had helped with a paper on relativism, stopped and mentioned Kevin Kelsey.

  “I met him at a party. I never had a class with him, but I was shocked to hear of his death. What I can’t imagine is who would want to kill him. He was quiet and if I can be frank, more than a little dull. I know, Dr. Douglas, that when I was a sophomore you helped the police when Dr. Wilson was killed, so do you know what happened?”

  “No, I don’t. I didn’t know Kelsey and all I’ve been told is that he was killed. It wasn’t an accident. Do you know anyone close to him who might know something?”

  “There was a guy with Kelsey at the party, a Lawrie Mac-something. I didn’t see Kelsey with a date. Well, I hope they catch whoever did it.”

  As she left Charlie thought by the time Chantal was out of the building Kelsey would be a distant memory. It was useful, though, that she confirmed Kelsey knew McDermott. “Lawrie” was obviously a nickname for “Lawrence” and the “Mac-something was surely “McDermott.”

  Back in his office Charlie was again trying to get going on his paper when J. D. Allen appeared in the doorway. J. D., a colleague in the department, was now the only one who shared Charlie’s interest in Foucault after another colleague’s departure, so they often had coffee together. J. D. put a covered cardboard cup on Charlie’s desk, wiped his hand down the front of his rumpled blue chambray shirt, and took the lid off his own cup. He sat down and sighed deeply.

  “I just got rid of my present albatross.”

  Because of his relative youth and casual manner and attire, J. D. regularly attracted M.A. candidates who wanted him to supervise their theses but just as regularly turned out to be uninspired and tediously dependent. Charlie’s own rule was “Never take on a student who needs you,” and it filtered out exactly the students J. D. attracted.

  “Okay, now to the serious stuff: what’s the inside dope on Kelsey’s murder?”

  “I thought that’s what you were after, but have to disappoint you. I saw DeVries yesterday, but just long enough to tell her I didn’t know Kelsey but would ask around about him. I did and learned he was friends with a Lawrence McDermott, an exchange student from St. Andrews who I’m pretty sure goes by ‘Lawrie.’ That’s it.”

  “Doesn’t sound like she was as forthcoming as last time around.”

  “No, she’s being more careful.”

  “You going to get mixed up in this one?”

  “No. There’s no point. I didn’t know Kelsey. He was in Computing and Jodie said his only philosophy course was Wilson’s intro course. You seem to do a lot with students, though, did you ever run into Kelsey?”

  “I might have, but the name means nothing to me. I’ll go on the Computing site; maybe they have a picture of him and I’ll recognize him.”

  “What about Lawrence or Lawrie McDermott? Know him?”


  “Nope. I’ll look for him, too. He in computing?”

  “I assume so.”

  J. D. and Charlie finished their coffees and J. D. went back to his office. Charlie realized he should have thought of what J. D. said and turned to his laptop. The Computing site didn’t have a picture of Kelsey but they did have one of McDermott, captioned as a welcome exchange student. McDermott was nondescript except for a scraggly mustache, but he looked older than Charlie had expected.

  At a quarter to noon thoughts of lunch began to intrude. Charlie was just about to shut down his laptop when DeVries appeared in his doorway. With her was a gaunt-looking man who looked seven feet tall. He wore a tan suit that was too light for the end of March and did not go well with his sallow skin.

  “Charlie. May we come in? This is Detective Guy Matson, my new partner.”

  Charlie shook hands with Matson, who gave him a brief, tight smile.

  “We were at the crime scene and thought we’d drop by to see if you might have learned anything new. No one we’ve spoken to knew much about Kelsey. We tracked down McDermott but won’t see him till two o’clock today. Thanks for his name.”

  “I’ve learned nothing new about Kelsey but haven’t had a chance to talk to anyone in Computing yet. I may at lunch.”

  “I hope you do better than we did. None of his instructors or staff members ever had much to do with him on a personal level. We only got the usual information about his courses and academic background. What we can tell you is that the coroner determined the blow to the head was what killed Kelsey.”