Slithering to the right toward the back door where I’d entered, I moved silently as fast as I could, with my right hand feeling for the wall. If I could get close enough to the door before he saw me, I could slip through and hide outside in the dark before he figured out what he’d heard.
I’d almost reached the back door when the flashlight beam vanished. I stopped and held my breath. The light reappeared down the hall in front of me, shining on a doorway at the right side of the hall. The beam moved down to the door’s keypad, and a gloved hand unlocked the door. The figure slipped inside and turned on lights inside the room.
I took a huge breath and expelled a sigh. Some professor must have needed to work late. Students and professors used to frequently work after hours, but the university had suffered financial difficulties and was saving energy to cut costs. Most campus buildings were now dark at night except for the library, recreational facility and parking garage. Buildings had lights shining on entry doors or placed sporadically around the exterior, but interior lights were off, and professors and students were discouraged from working at night.
Whoever entered the room had a key to the building and classroom and was familiar with the layout. So why enter in the dark? Perhaps if they worked late, against university policy, they got a black mark. No tenure? Thus, the dark gloves.
I had a choice to make: go out the back door and forget the whole project, or sneak past the working professor where light streamed into the hall and hope I could make it into the lab undetected.
Option number two won. I started sneaking left again, glued to the wall. When I got near the lighted classroom, I was tempted to peek in and see who was there. It might be somebody I knew. But if they saw me, I could be arrested for breaking and entering. I put my curiosity on hold.
The classroom light carried only halfway across the hall, so before I reached the lighted area, I crouched down as low as I could on the left-hand wall and wiggled past the light looming from the right. When I glanced back, I couldn’t see anybody inside the classroom.
I estimated that in about eight more feet, I’d reach the door that entered the long narrow room with the UV light apparatus. I got to the door and hesitated. I couldn’t linger—the professor might decide he was through working and step into the hall. But I had to be sure of my surroundings.
When I’d entered the building to meet Eric Lager, the lab door was the first door to the right from the front entrance. From where I stood, I could see a door ten feet ahead that I was pretty sure was the door to the main lab. For a few seconds, a touch of moonlight shone through glass in the building’s front door and confirmed it. This door next to me was the linear storage room with the ultraviolet light over the tray, the room I wanted. If somebody entered the main door to the lab, I could escape through this back door. I inserted my dental pick, heard a click and slipped inside, leaving the door slightly ajar.
Thirty
I clicked on my flashlight, shone a small beam just ahead of my feet and tiptoed across the storage room. I wanted to check everything in the room where I was, but first I had to make sure there was nobody in the lab. I doused my light, crept to the open door between the rooms and peered in. There was no sound. No light. It was safe to investigate.
I peeled off the black gloves, slipped them into my pocket, pulled on the thin latex pair and retraced my steps to where I’d entered. From there, I shone my light on each cabinet. I didn’t see anything new. One wall cabinet had drawers beneath, so I opened each one soundlessly. Nothing but supplies. It was time for the main event.
Walking silently into the large room, I smelled the familiar medicinal odor. The lab must have been sterilized, but I detected a slightly rank smell with an overlay of sweetness the cleaning liquid hadn’t erased.
In the dark, I sensed the mass of the box-like 37°C incubator hugging the wall. I bent to crack open the incubator door and shone my light inside. The sight of living cells quivering in plates, floating in unknown liquid, mutating at human body temperature, made me queasy. Were they worm cells? Human cells? Squirming in what? I knew I was viewing a common research practice, but the way Eric Lager described cell reproduction with his fish grin made the process seem tawdry and evil, as though unnatural metamorphoses were developing before my eyes.
I decided to systematically check every cabinet and drawer moving right from the incubator. I got close to each cabinet to shine the light inside. I didn’t want my flashlight to illuminate the room. The drawers contained office supplies, rubber tubing, order sheets—nothing revealing: no notes and no list of scientists. When I looked through drawers under the shade-drawn windows, I was particularly careful with my light. The campus police or a caretaker might see light in the science lab and decide to investigate.
After examining drawers across the back side of the lab, I decided to backtrack and search through drawers and cabinets that ran from the incubator toward the front wall that separated the lab from the hallway. The storage areas yielded nothing, but a cut in the countertop made space for a desk and computer.
I set my flashlight down to one side and aimed it at the screen. Pulling the chair out slowly, I eased into it and studied the equipment. I located the sound button and turned it off. I didn’t want the machine blaring my presence into the hallway. I hit the “On” button and watched the computer power up with Office 97 and Internet Explorer 3.0. First, I went to IE3 to search through Bookmarks.
I found links to articles about daf-2 and daf-16 genes, APOE genes related to Alzheimer’s disease, telomeres, telomerase, C. elegans roundworms and earmarks for aging—all subjects I knew Carmody had researched. How could I determine which lead he’d decided to pursue? The discovery that probably got him killed?
My best guess was that he’d been experimenting with ways to alter specific genes and was recording the results. But he probably had the information encoded. I pulled up the list of programs.
The university used the Bio101 program, a new integrative teaching tool where students could see molecules and cells interacting with stimuli. I called up the program, but to enter it required a password. I tried “[email protected]’’ and every other version of his name I could think of. Nothing worked. He must have filed the revealing information somewhere, but I didn’t know what else to try. Feeling defeated and increasingly aware of the sickly sweet odor and strong disinfectant, I closed down the computer.
I decided to make a final pass around the other side of the room toward the main lab door that led to the hall. I retraced my steps around the periphery, past the shaded windows, and down the first set of cabinets and drawers, inching toward the front door. I’d searched through three drawers and cabinets and stepped toward the next section when my foot hit a barrier on the floor. I shone my light on the object and screamed.
Thirty-One
Eric Lager lay on the laboratory floor with his feet toward me and his head near the door. The lower part of his body appeared relaxed, as if his muscles had withered. The upper part of his thin torso appeared stiff. His face, usually gray and colorless, had a pink tinge. He was obviously dead. One arm stretched toward the door. Just outside the reach of his hand lay a bottle of nasal spray.
Unable to take my eyes off Eric Lager, with the sickly sweet odor of death and disinfectant permeating my senses, I felt sick. Paralyzed with shock, I covered my mouth and tried to remember the location of the nearest sink. I was feeling my way back across countertops when the hall door blasted open.
“Police! Stop! Let me see your hands!”
I tried to raise my hands, but I had to grab the nearest sink to upchuck into it. I was leaning on the counter, splashing water on my face as two uniformed police officers marched toward me shining flashlights. One had his gun drawn. Neither one of them was Sam.
Dizzy and disoriented, I felt blackness overtake me.
When I regained consciousness, I was sitting
against a cabinet with an officer crouched beside me.
“I’m Officer Mangum, SAPD.” He pointed up to another man in a different uniform. “Grant is from campus security. And you are?”
“Aggie…Agatha Mundeen. I’m a student here.”
“What were you doing in this lab?” Mangum asked.
“Looking for clues to who killed Dr. Carmody and to what he was working on.”
“Carmody was the professor who died on campus last week?”
“Yes, sir. Somebody at SAPD found out he’d been murdered.”
“And you broke into this lab because…?”
“Well, it was locked. And I didn’t want anybody to know.”
“Know what? That you killed a man?”
“No! I would never kill anybody. After I learned Dr. Carmody was murdered, I thought it must have something to do with whatever he was working on here.”
“I imagine the police could figure that out. But you decided to dress in black, smear your face dark, break into a locked campus facility and look for clues. You’re a science student?”
“Well, no.”
“So you probably wouldn’t recognize clues in here anyway. Is that what you’re telling us?”
I nodded, realizing how dumb I sounded.
“Do you know who that man is?” He pointed to Lager.
“Professor Eric Lager.”
“Another professor who worked at UHT?”
“I’m afraid so.” I feared I might be sick again. “Could you take me outside and let me get some air?”
“In a minute. You know this professor?” He gestured toward Eric Lager.
I couldn’t look at his body. “Yes. He was the lab director. He took over Dr. Carmody’s class.” I didn’t tell him that Eric had invited me to tour the lab. It might sound like Eric and I had a closer relationship.
“You want me to believe that you broke in here, knowing Lager might be here, and you didn’t have anything to do with his murder?”
“Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir. I didn’t have any idea he’d be here.”
“But you broke in, and there he was?”
“I was walking around in the dark, and I bumped into him…his leg, I guess.”
He studied my face before speaking. “Have you ever been arrested before?”
“No, sir.”
More SAPD officers streamed in. Not one of them was Sam.
“All right.” Mangum stood me up and beckoned to a female patrolman. “Officer Ames, search this woman.”
Ames looked young enough to be my daughter. She came over, cleared her throat and maintained a poker face while she began her body search. In front of everybody.
She found my black gloves, peeled the thin ones off my hands and put each pair in a separate bag. She found my dental implement, nail file and flashlight, and squinted at me suspiciously while she bagged them. After handing the stash to another officer, she repeated her pat-down.
More policemen arrived, dusted for fingerprints, took photos and looked for blood and other evidence around Lager’s body. One picked up the nasal spray bottle and bagged it.
UHT’s campus security man, Grant, cupped a hand in front of his mouth and spoke quietly to Officer Mangum. “Hey, can y’all try to keep this to a minimum? This looks bad for the university since we had another professor die here last week. If we have a bunch of raging lights and sirens, the press will come swarming around here. We don’t want students to feel like they’re in danger. How long do you think it’ll be before EMS comes for the body and you fellows finish up? Students will want to work in the lab tomorrow morning. Some of them expect us to open up by seven a.m.”
“I’ll ask EMS to douse the lights and siren,” Mangum said. “We can probably finish up here pretty soon. We’ll leave an officer outside the lab tonight and one outside the building to control who goes in and out. In the morning, they can tell students there was a suspected break-in, but that everything’s okay.”
He gestured to the female officer.
“Ames, you and Grant take this suspect out behind the building for some air and stay with her. Homicide’s on the way. Keep her on the premises. I’ll talk to her later.”
Homicide? I could see where I might be in trouble for breaking and entering, but surely they didn’t think I’d killed Eric Lager. If Homicide was on the way, maybe it would be Sam.
Ames and Grant each grabbed one of my arms, tighter than I thought was necessary. Mangum drew my hands together and handcuffed me. Me! Aggie Mundeen. I was just looking for clues to a murder.
While I tried not to cry, Ames and Grant walked me through the back door and outside to the lawn.
“Let’s wait over there in the dark,” Grant said. “No need to attract attention.”
Thirty-Two
We were hidden in darkness with only the light from the back door of the science building reflecting off nearby grass. Ames and Grant sat me down and perched a few feet away on either side. I saw a van roll onto the campus road.
“There’s EMS,” Ames said. The vehicle slinked around the side of the building, turned off its lights and parked. Three figures emerged from the van with a stretcher and quietly approached the front of the building. Two cars rolled up and parked behind the van: Meredith’s car and a familiar car I thought might be Sam’s unmarked sedan. As they approached, I said a silent prayer of thanks. They could get me out of this mess.
Sam strolled up in plainclothes and a cap with the bill pulled down. Meredith was behind him.
“Hello, officers,” he said and pulled out his badge. “Detective Sam Vanderhoven, Homicide, SAPD. And this is Meredith Laughlin.” He pointed to me. “This woman is a friend of ours. Okay if we speak with her?”
“She was studying and passed out in the science lab,” Grant said. “No big deal. UHT has everything under control. You want to talk to her? Sure.”
Officer Ames looked at Sam and Meredith. “Your names and addresses, please.” She took out her pad.
Meredith gave her address and phone number.
“You’ve known her long?” Ames said.
“We’ve had some classes together.”
She turned to Sam. “And you, Detective?”
“We’re more like acquaintances,” Sam said.
“Why did you show up here in the middle of the night?”
“I couldn’t sleep,” Meredith said. “I knew Aggie was upset about Dr. Carmody, the man who died here last week. I called her, and she didn’t answer. I decided to call Detective Vanderhoven and drive over here. We saw her sitting with you guys here on the lawn.”
Officer Ames stuffed her pad back in her pocket. “Detective, just let me know what she says.”
“Sure thing.”
Sam and Meredith came over and crouched on either side of me. Sam’s back was to Ames. Grant surveyed the campus as if he was worried about who might show up and create bad PR for the school.
“Aggie,” Meredith said. “Are you okay? You’re handcuffed.”
I nodded.
Sam put a finger to his lips, indicating I should talk quietly and be careful what I said.
“She said you fainted,” Sam said in a low voice, almost whispering. “Tell me what happened.”
“I snuck into the lab to find out who killed Dr. Carmody…or figure out what he was working on. Eric Lager was lying on the floor. Dead. They must think I killed him. I guess that’s why I have on these ridiculous handcuffs.”
“Did you see anybody around?”
My head was pounding so hard, it was difficult to think. “Somebody was in the room across the hall—some professor, I guess.”
“Did you see who it was?”
“No. I was too busy trying to…”
“Sneak into the lab?”
/> “Yes.”
“Did you find anything?”
“No.” I sighed and closed my eyes. The universe spun.
“When did you first see Eric Lager?”
Officer Ames flipped her head toward us. I lowered my voice.
“I was checking cabinets in the dark, shining my light inside them. Campus security must have noticed the light and called SAPD. My foot hit something…Eric’s leg. I shined my flashlight on him and screamed. Then cops burst through the door.”
“Was he dead when you first saw him?”
“Yes. He looked horrible.” I opened my eyes. “How did you two know to come here?
We heard the sound of another vehicle, and Ames looked toward the road.
“Somebody from the medical examiner’s office,” she said.
Sam whispered, “When you wanted to borrow a riding helmet from Meredith, she guessed you were up to something and called me. I surmised you came to the campus. But I didn’t think you’d break into the lab dressed like a burglar and stumble on a corpse.”
“I never dreamed…” I blinked, trying to block the image of Eric Lager lying on the floor: gray, pink, half limp, half stiff and very dead.
I was telling Sam about the nasal spray bottle I’d seen within reach of Eric’s hand when I realized his voice had sounded different. I looked at him.
“What happens now?”
“When somebody breaks into a building and is found with a dead body, the police take them to jail.” He talked louder, probably for Officer Ames’ benefit.
“To jail?” I whispered. “You can’t mean that. You know I didn’t kill Eric Lager.” He put his hand to his lips to quiet me. “I couldn’t kill anybody. You can just tell them.” He kept the finger to his lips.
Meredith and I looked at him pleadingly.
“It’s not that simple.” He talked in a fast whisper. “Law officers have to go by evidence. You argued with Carmody before he was murdered. Some people thought you contributed to his death.”
Smart, But Dead (An Aggie Mundeen Mystery Book 3) Page 11