“You... you don’t understand. Adam and I were in love,” she said, and then she resumed her sobbing. I had been standing near her to be able to keep my hand on her arm for reassurance, but I sat down, and waited for her to calm down.
I needed her to stop crying long enough to talk. While I waited, several thoughts went through my mind beginning with “oh my God” to wondering if their romance was in her mind or real, and finally to hoping she wasn’t pregnant.
When she took another deep breath and looked up at me, she said, “I can’t believe he’s dead. I thought we’d get married when I graduated.” She seemed to be cried out for the moment, and I decided to try to get some more background and then work up to her relationship, real or perceived, with Adam.
Asking questions, I found out that she had transferred to Cold Creek at the beginning of her junior year after deciding a large university wasn’t for her. A friend of her family had gone to Cold Creek, and recommended it. As a junior and majoring in psychology, she was assigned to Adam’s advising load.
She was in all his advanced psychology classes, and she’d met with him several times to figure out which courses would and wouldn’t transfer for her major. He had told her she didn’t need to take my research design class for the major. The transfer and his saying she didn’t need to take my class – it was a required course – explained why I didn’t know her. She continued with her story.
She went on to talk about how he told her how pretty she was, and how he told her he liked it when his female students wore short skirts. She smiled as she explained how when she was in his sensation and perception class, he demonstrated various sensations and how different parts of the body were more sensitive than others. She looked embarrassed at this point, blushing a bit with a smile instead of tears. I opted not to get the details.
She said that was when they started ‘hooking up’. I asked her about when that was, although I could have looked up which semester, and from the syllabus determined which week. She indicated that it was spring semester, March 22nd. She remembered the day. That, together with her description, seemed to give credence to the reality of more than the usual student-advisor interaction. This didn’t seem to be a school girl crush and fantasy relationship. It occurred to me that at least I wouldn’t have to report him to Jim, or the Provost, but that was the only silver lining to this scene.
I talked to her again about how hard it is to lose someone you were close to. I pointed out that she needed to grieve, but also to take care of herself. It was probably a cheap shot, but when she talked about not being able to go on, I asked her if she thought Adam would want her to quit or would he want her to finish and graduate. Cheap or not, it worked, and she sat a little straighter.
We talked a little more about the memorial, and how some of the College administrators would be talking about Adam and his years here. I suggested she try to keep busy and focus on her studies and her future. When she hadn’t broken down in over 10 minutes, I suggested she might want to go to the ladies room and wash her face. I also told her that she could come back and talk if she needed to. I didn’t tell her that if she continued to need support, I would be referring her to counseling services or to someone outside the college.
She left, and I closed my door, something I don’t do when I am alone in my office. I needed time to process what she’d told me. More than that I wanted a shower. I decompressed a bit and wondered idly what was going to happen to Adam’s advisees. It occurred to me that whoever ended up being Rachel’s advisor was likely going to give her a rude awakening on required courses.
Hopefully, my class was the only one he told her not to take. It made me wonder if he thought I would figure it out if she were in my class. I’m a good psychologist, but I’m not psychic. I wondered if her parents realized what had been going on and how angry a father might get. I suspected Adam’s behavior might provide a motive for murder.
I thought about sending McMann another email but decided to hold off. At this rate, maybe I should wait and write one later on. Thinking about the detective, his smile, his hazel eyes, and the way he raked his curly hair with his well-manicured fingers, made me feel a little better. I opened my door and decided to take a quick walk through the arboretum to clear my head.
The arboretum was one of the best things about Cold Creek College. It included about two miles of a walkway with various options for shorter routes. Each path was decorated liberally with flora native to the region and well maintained by the Horticulture department. Someone with an artistic flair, as well as knowledge of horticulture, had designed several coves with cascades of color and water features. I found these spots to be very calming and stimulating at the same time.
My plan to head for the arboretum was derailed when I walked out of the building. There were multiple vans, and people setting up tents, chairs, and tables. College security and Cold Creek police, as well as many of the trustees who provided the funds for the college seemed to be congregating already. And, I suspected, each had an opinion on how this memorial would come off. Instead of calming, the noise and bustle was mind-numbing. I sighed, resigned that the arboretum was temporarily not an option, and settled for Georg’s.
Again, it was pretty quiet in the Café. Getting a coffee and the same sandwich I’d had yesterday reminded me of lunch with McMann. I found myself smiling again, and trying to figure out some tactful way of determining if he was married. Maybe I could say something like his wife must miss him when he is out of town for days at a time. Or maybe ask if the move to Appomattox was to accommodate his wife’s career. Both were possibilities, but I’d have to wait for an opening.
“Sheridan! Where’s your buddy? Did you run out of secrets to tell him about us? Your friends? I feel like you are betraying us all!” Max’s yelling interrupted my reverie. It also attracted the attention of the few others in Georg’s.
“Hi Max. Care to join me?” I asked. I kept my voice low and tried to diffuse his anger by not taking the bait. I felt everyone looking at me, but tried my best to look bored. This approach had often worked to de-escalate kids in the center, and I hoped it would work with Max.
Max sat down, and then whispered, “I hear you’ve been spying on us so you can tell that detective what we’re doing. When Joe interviewed me and I asked him what you said, he told me you were too busy talking to the detective to talk to him. What have you told him about me, Sheridan?”
“Max, the detective asked me questions like everyone else. He is doing his job. Jim told him I would help him with finding faculty members and getting him oriented. I didn’t tell him anything about you. Is there something about you and Adam I should have told him? Did you kill him?” I was quite sure he hadn’t and asking him would send him into a tailspin again.
“Of course I didn’t kill him. I would never do that. I never had anything to do with Adam. He didn’t know anything about research, or learning or memory. Why would I talk to such an incompetent?” he said, his voice louder as he continued.
“Well, then I guess you don’t have to worry about anything, do you?” I asked. The other people in the café shook their heads at his latest outburst and quickly found something more interesting. Max relaxed a little and then excused himself. His research was waiting. I sometimes wondered what he was actually researching, but dared not ask for fear he would tell me.
After Max left, I ate my sandwich and drank my coffee. I realized that what Max said wasn’t all hogwash. I was giving McMann information. It occurred to me maybe that was why he was so attentive. I consoled myself that I hadn’t shared anything about Kim with him. From what Kim had told me, someone else certainly had. Thinking about Kim made me realize I hadn’t seen her today, at least in part because I was distracted by Rachel.
On the way back to my office, I first stopped at the main office and asked Jim what the plan was for re-assigning Adam’s advisees. He shrugged and said he hadn’t gotten that far. He thanked me for being available for students, mentioning that a
few had been in already.
I nodded, and then went to Kim’s office. She was working diligently and seemed pretty reserved and quiet. I asked her if she was okay. She again lacked her usual high energy and optimism. She said she was keeping busy so she wouldn’t think about Adam, the memorial, or the fact that she was likely to be arrested any time even though she hadn’t killed him.
She said that the officer from the Cold Creek police, Hirsch, was waiting for her this morning. He asked all the same questions over again, and had a copy of all the answers she gave at the rec center on Monday. I sat down and we talked for a few minutes about the memorial and that the memorial made his death that much more real. Like Rachel, I told her to give a yell if she needed to talk to anyone. I teased her about the steak sauce spray the night before and at least got a smile. I went back to my office wondering when Officer Hirsch would be by to see me.
I managed to make progress on my course prep with only a few interruptions. A few more of Adam’s students stopped by, but thankfully none were as devastated as Rachel or mentioned a relationship other than student and faculty. Most were dealing with the violence and death of someone they knew. For some of them, it was the first time death hit close to home.
I felt for one very serious student, Jerry. I remembered him from his freshman and junior years. Jerry was mostly concerned about what would happen with his honors thesis that Adam was supposed to be mentoring him on. Jerry was applying to doctoral programs and the thesis would make him more competitive. I tried to assure him that it would still happen, but obviously with someone else, and no one was sure who that would be yet.
Deciding I needed to stretch, I stopped in the main office to check in with Terra and Ali. They both seemed to be holding up and were a little less distressed than earlier this morning. Surprisingly, Ali actually looked relieved. Terra was the more distracted, complaining about the extra calls and information she had to chase down for Jim. Joe sauntered in at one point and asked how students were doing with the murder.
I shared with him that Mitch and I were available for any students who needed to talk. I also noted that the reactions were varied and in some ways dependent on their experiences with death. I asked him what his impressions were, and if he had any ideas on who murdered Adam. As with our previous interaction, my asking questions seemed to effectively end the conversation. He went off to find someone else to interview. Looking at Terra as he walked away, I noticed that she smirked and shook her head. Ali also seemed a bit amused. I sighed and went back to my office to see what I could get done.
Toward the end of the day, Mitch came in looking tired. He shook his head while rolling his eyes if that is possible. He mentioned he had several students stop by. He asked if I had been around this morning, mentioning that my door was closed when he came by. I told him I had been and met with students as well. He nodded, realizing then why my door had been closed. I asked him if any of the students he had seen seemed overly upset or mentioned anything that seemed inappropriate.
He mumbled something that sounded a lot like “not again”. Without revealing who the student was or the details, I confirmed what he was obviously thinking. We discussed sexual harassment and the potential for that in a college setting. We talked about the memorial and how stressful that was going to be for everyone. Reminding me that I was going to need to be rested to deal with the fallout, he left. Mitch was a big teddy bear and curmudgeon all wrapped up in one. Someday I’d have to ask him why he was a professor and not in private practice.
I finished up a few things and then checked my email. McMann had emailed me back to say thanks and that he would definitely be back for the memorial. He also asked if anything else important had come up. I replied that I didn’t know if what a student said was important to the murder or not. I could let him know when I saw him or he could call me. Leaving my cell number, I clicked send, shut down the computer, and left for the day. I noticed that Kim had already left. I made a mental note to call her later on and make sure she was alright.
Walking out, I ran into Priscilla. She seemed even more out-of-sorts than usual. She complained about the memorial and the to-do for Adam, when as she put it, “everyone knew what a jerk he was.” Obviously, Adam was not a topic that she and Mandy agreed on.
When we exited the building, the grounds over by the administration building and arboretum were crowded with people – security, media, students, faculty, and community leaders. All I could think was “wow!” Priscilla snickered, even more disgusted than she had been. Priscilla was a bit arrogant in her own way, and her way was the right way, of course.
We parted ways at the parking lots and I went home. On a whim, I stopped at the Pizzeria and got lasagna to go for dinner. Living alone, dinner to go was a lot easier than cooking something. And the lasagna from the Pizzeria was better than a frozen meal any day.
After letting Charlie out, and feeding her, I turned on the news. I watched the coverage of the memorial preparations while eating my dinner. It struck me odd, but there was more discussion of who would be at the memorial, the caterer and planning crew, and road closures, than there was of Adam or his family. That saddened me even if I didn’t like the man.
Between my meeting with Rachel, my run-in with Max, and worrying about Kim, I had trouble sitting still. I called and left a message for Kim to call me when she had a chance. I left the television on for background noise and decided to clean my house, really clean my house.
I had bought this house when I moved to Cold Creek. It was a small house compared to some of the others in Cold Creek, but a three-bedroom was plenty big for Charlie and me. The problem was that I didn’t spend much time in the living/dining area or the guest room. I pretty much lived in the master bedroom, the second bedroom I had turned into my office, and the kitchen. As a result, both of the other rooms tended to be neglected.
Often if I couldn’t figure out where to put something, like that punch bowl someone gave me, it went into the living room because it was convenient and out of sight. It was always with the idea that I would get around to finding a better place or arranging the various crystal pieces or serving dishes. The last time I had straightened up either room was when my sister visited about a year ago.
With nervous energy, I decided it was time to get everything dusted and rearranged so that it looked a little less scattered. That meant taking everything off the hutch, the coffee table, and end tables. I had about finished dusting and putting everything back onto and into the hutch, when the phone rang. I answered and was glad to hear Kim’s voice on the other end.
“Hey, Sheridan. Sorry I missed your call. I finished up the abnormals early and came home to decompress. I turned the phone off so I had time to think everything through,” Kim explained. “Tomorrow’s going to be a zoo, with a lot of people who don’t even know Adam speaking and talking about the blow to Cold Creek.”
I agreed, and she continued, “But, don’t worry, Sher, I will be there. The good thing is that because it will be such a farce, I’ll probably hold up pretty well,” she added with a sneer, obviously trying for a joke.
“Yeah, there probably will be a humorous side of it. You and others who knew and cared for him will have to grieve in your own time and in your own way,” I responded, thinking as much of Rachel as Kim.
“I heard Max blew up at you. What was that about?” she asked, moving to a more neutral topic.
“Max accused me of being a spy for McMann. And Priscilla is all out of joint over the memorial,” I offered.
“Oh, Sheridan, it’s not your fault Jim told McMann you’d help him. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I think he finds excuses to seek you out, have lunch with you, and such. I saw him bring you coffee the other morning, girlfriend,” she teased. I was glad she couldn’t see me blushing or smiling.
“Yeah, but maybe he’s being nice like that in hopes that I will spill something to nail the murderer. Honest, Kim, I am not ‘telling stories’ on folks, but I do answer h
is questions and confirm what he tells me. Including that Max is a jerk, by the way!” We both laughed.
“Smart man! I don’t know Sher, he’s not my type, but he is good-looking and employed. Have you found out if he’s married yet?” she asked.
“Nope. Don’t know if he’s married. And I don’t know if he is interested. All I know is that he recently was transferred to Appomattox and didn’t know Cold Creek existed before Monday.”
We talked a little more. After I hung up, I went back to my hutch and the various odds and ends that seemed to collect over time. By about 9 o’clock I was getting tired and had identified some of the ‘stuff’ as needing a new home. I boxed that stuff up and labeled the boxes for the local thrift shop. Someone would have a greater appreciation for these items than I did.
I curled up to watch television for a while, checking email and other social network sites. Charlie curled up next to me. I didn’t have any new emails of importance. Nothing grabbed me on the social networks. A couple of friends had posted the usual humorous posters from various sites. Nothing jumped out at me. Thankfully, no one I was friends with knew Adam. At least not that I knew of.
One of those mystery shows was on, and as I watched it I started thinking about Adam’s murder. The police on the television show were talking about having to follow the money. I didn’t know if Adam had any family, or if he had insurance. He did drive a fancy car, and his clothes cost a lot more than mine. He was a member of the country club.
All in all, I assumed he’d come from money. He would have to in order to pay spousal support to four ex-wives. I kind of doubted that Kim or Rachel, or even Katie or Ali, were named as beneficiaries. Besides, it seemed to me that Adam’s case was more likely a crime of passion. With that in mind, there was an almost unlimited list of suspects and that list seemed to be growing every day. The phone ringing interrupted my reverie.
“Hello, Sheridan? Brett McMann here.” I felt my blood pressure shoot up a few points and smiled.
Murder at Cold Creek College Page 7