Murder at Cold Creek College

by Christa Nardi

  “Oh, Detective, hello,” I said, surprised by the call.

  “Please, call me Brett. I got your email, and wanted to follow up. Do you have time to talk? Do you have any more information about the Memorial?” he asked.

  “Sure, and no more details than what was in the email. The campus grounds were a zoo when I left. They have tents, chairs, tables, and a podium set up. It looked like they were setting up a sound system, and the media was setting up as well. Oh, wait, can you pull up KCCX? They are talking about it right now and showing the extensive preparations,” I said, sitting up and paying attention to the newscaster.

  “Okay, I’m trying to pull it up online. KCCX isn’t broadcast up here. Got it and I have to say it looks impressive. I wasn’t getting the impression that Adam was that well liked. His death is certainly getting a lot of attention. You’re the psychologist, what do you make of it?” he asked.

  “My take? I think all the donors who support the College and the trustees want to get the attention off the violence of his death and re-direct it to a sense of community, everyone coming together at a time of crisis. That was what I got from Cramer’s announcement. It was all about the College, not Adam. It makes sense at some level, if you think about it. I doubt there will be any mention of how he died tomorrow. Maybe a mention of his death as ‘untimely’. I also think they want to bring this to closure before classes start on Monday.”

  “Makes sense to me. I’m going to try to get down there by 10 o’clock or so. If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you could help me identify some of the players tomorrow, and share your insight on peoples’ behavior. That sound okay to you?” He sighed and I pictured him pulling his free hand through his hair.

  “No problem, but if you aren’t on campus long before 10, even with a badge, you won’t find any place to park within several blocks. I suspect the whole board of trustees, the development foundation members, administrators, some faculty, staff, and students, will make an appearance,” I warned.

  “Okay, and you said something came up with regard to a student. Something I should know?” he asked, shifting gears.

  “Mitch and I were put on “crisis response” and students started seeking us out today as they got back and heard the news. Some are obviously more upset than others. One of them indicated that Adam engaged in, uh, inappropriate behavior with her,” I said with some hesitation. It was pretty inevitable that he would ask for the student’s name. It was also inevitable that I was not going to give it to him. It would be a standoff.

  “Let me get this straight. A female student told you – or did she only give you the impression – that Adam and she were sexually involved? So he wasn’t only hitting on faculty and staff, but students as well?” he asked sounding a little put off. I didn’t blame him. It put me off, too.

  “You’ve got the picture, I’m afraid. She said they were involved,” I answered. We talked a little more about how inappropriate Adam’s behavior was and I assured him that there was a policy against this kind of behavior. After a few more exchanges on the case, we said good night.

  The news was over. After I let Charlie out again, I lay down to go to sleep. I still wasn’t convinced of Brett’s ulterior motives, and I didn’t know if he was married, but I was flattered he wanted my opinions. On top of that, his not asking me for the name of the student won him more points in my book.

  Chapter 6

  It was a beautiful morning, not too hot, with a light breeze – fairly typical weather for Virginia in late August. I managed to get to campus by 8 AM, and the parking was already pretty horrendous. People were pretty much ignoring the ‘Reserved’ sign in the faculty lot. Either that or a lot of faculty beat me, and I doubted that was the case. I found a space between a Prius and a BMW, another sign that these probably weren’t all faculty cars in the parking lot. As I came around to the west side of the Humanities building, I could see a lot of activity, but not much more than when I left the day before. I knew this was only the beginning.

  I went up the stairs and surprisingly our floor seemed pretty quiet. I settled down at my computer, and checked my email. Some of the usual announcements, but nothing interesting. Figuring I might have about two hours to get some work done, I quickly pulled up the course notes to see where I left off. Within an hour, Kim came by, looking like she hadn’t slept and hadn’t used a mirror to put her makeup on.

  “Kim, are you alright? Come in and sit down,” I said, concerned with her appearance and lack of energy. Her usually vibrant and well-coiffed hair seemed to be lackluster and unkempt. She looked even worse than she did earlier in the week. She sat down, but didn’t say anything. To say she looked awful would be an understatement.

  “Kim, talk to me. Did you take any meds? You seem out of it,” I prodded her.

  “No, I didn’t take anything. I’m not big on meds so I’ve never taken any. I’m just numb,” she answered. She sat there for a few more minutes not saying anything before she continued. “I got a call this morning from the police. Not your detective, but the Chief of the Cold Creek police, Chief Pfeiffe. I have an appointment to see him later today. Sher, they think I killed Adam and I don’t have much faith in our local police department to clear me.”

  “Do you have an attorney?” I asked. At the same time, I realized I wasn’t even sure there was a law firm in Cold Creek, certainly not one that handled criminal cases. I guessed that was a good thing.

  She shrugged before saying, “Nope. I called the lawyer I used in my divorce, and she is checking to see if she can find a criminal lawyer for me. She’ll call when she locates someone. I don’t know what else to do. You have to believe me, I didn’t kill him.”

  I went over and gave her a hug, and tried to be reassuring. I suggested that maybe some cold water on her face would help, and we went down the hall to the restroom. I helped her splash the cold water on her face and then repair her makeup and fix her hair. I also encouraged her to do some of her favorite yoga moves and get herself focused. We fixed her clothes so she looked a little less disheveled and then I walked her back to her office.

  I sat with her for a few more minutes. Then I prompted her to close her door and do some more yoga as that seemed to help. I told her I would stop by on my way out to the memorial or she should come get me when she was ready.

  Back in my office, I took a deep breath and tried to figure out what I could do to help Kim. About then Brett showed up. He smiled and noted that I had been right about the parking, the fanfare, and the crowd. He asked if anything was going on other than the memorial. I shrugged and told him about the police wanting to talk to Kim later on. He sighed and muttered “stupid.” I asked him to explain.

  “Lots of different levels are involved here. We have the State and local police, and college security. As usual, no one is talking to anyone else. To bring in anyone at this point is premature. There are still a lot of questions to be answered. The Chief here, he thinks he has the answer and is going to get a confession, close the case, and emerge the hero.” He added, “This kind of thing happens all the time, when the local powerhouses put pressure on the local police force to close a case.”

  I nodded and wanted to ask if he had any advice for Kim, but I suspected he’d say “tell the truth,” so I didn’t bother. Shaking his head, he asked, “Ready? I would like to get down there and somehow figure out where to stand so you can help me identify some of the people, if you don’t mind.”

  “That’s okay, but I did tell Kim I’d go with her. Is that going to be a problem?” I asked.

  “Not a problem. Let’s go,” he said with a shrug.

  I wasn’t so sure Kim was going to feel that way, but as soon as she opened the door, he put up his hands. He assured her he wasn’t there to talk to her, but to get a feel for the crowd in general, and possibly some individuals depending on what he saw. She seemed to relax and we made our way to the memorial.

  If we hadn’t been with him, we probably wouldn’t have been able to get anyw
here near where the action was. It was definitely standing room only, but Brett managed to make his way through, with us in tow, to the side of where the makeshift stage had been set up.

  We could see the dignitaries. The college President, Provost, and Chancellor, at least two of them with their wives, and the mayor and his wife, Chief Pfeiffe, and the congressional representative for this district were all there. Notably, the Chancellor’s wife was the only one who showed any emotion. She kept dabbing at her rather puffy eyes with a lace hankie. I didn’t know anyone had lace hankies anymore.

  There also were the husbands and wives of the old money who established Cold Creek College and served as its trustees. Jim Grant was also on the stage, as was Dean Kahuna, the dean of Humanities. There had to be about thirty people on the staging itself. It was a good thing Kim was with us. I only knew the names of about half the people on the staging. Between us, we missed a few trustees, but Brett got the rest. Kim seemed to be feeling a little more human. Either yoga worked miracles or it helped that Brett was obviously looking at other people as possible suspects.

  At promptly 11 o’clock, chimes came over the loudspeakers, and the crowd hushed. Cold Creek College’s President, Harrison Cramer welcomed everyone to the memorial and celebration of life for Dr. Adam Millberg. He asked all to bow heads for a moment of silence. As I bowed my head, I noticed that Brett didn’t bow his, but seemed to scan the crowd of over a hundred people. After the moment of silence, Dr. Cramer introduced the other dignitaries on the stage. It struck me odd that no one on stage was identified as a member of Adam’s family.

  After the introductions, Jim Grant and Dean Kahuna spoke about Adam and his dedication to his students, to Cold Creek College, and to greater knowledge. When they mentioned students, Brett nudged me and indicated with a questioning glance a couple of students, one of whom was visibly upset. I reminded him that he had met Janet and Wesley. I provided the names of the other three – Courtney, Mary Kate, and Raya. Courtney was the one who was visibly upset.

  When Brett raised his eyebrows about Courtney, I sighed and indicated that no, she was not the one I had talked to. His facial expression reflected his contempt. I knew Courtney to be a bit on the emotional side, but she did seem more upset than I would have expected. It was hard to tell if this was the way she reacted to a memorial or if she’d also been involved with Adam. She didn’t quite seem his type, but then he may not have had a type after all.

  The eulogy of sorts officially over, each of the dignitaries had to take their turn, each ending with how they were sure this would not affect the fine reputation of the College. The Chief altered his a little by assuring those gathered that this matter would likely be resolved before classes began on Monday. At that, Brett hissed, “Jesus!” and looked fit to be tied. Dr. Cramer closed the official portion by again thanking everyone for coming. He then invited all to partake of the refreshments provided courtesy of the trustees as the College community came together to heal. It was pretty corny, but it seemed to be well received.

  As the crowds thinned out a little, and the media made a bee-line for Chief Pfeiffe, Brett started asking more questions about the people in the crowd. It took us a few minutes to find Katie, who at least had a tissue in her hand and looked to be grieving. We were also able to identify Misty, wife number four, for him.

  I’d never met wives number one or three, so I wasn’t much help there. Kim didn’t think she’d recognize number three, but she kept looking. Brett provided us the names for them. Number one wife was Heather McDaniels and number three was Leanna Jones. The names meant nothing to me. Kim pointed out that Leanna had remarried so her name wasn’t Jones anymore, but she didn’t remember what it was. In all likelihood, wife number one had remarried as well. Brett didn’t offer any more information. He nodded. I suspected that he already knew at least some of the information we were providing.

  Brett asked if either of us knew the Chancellor’s wife, the one who had been crying, but neither of us did. He nodded toward the buffet tables. We walked in that direction, got a plate of food, and then walked to the other side. We spotted Katie getting food and she gave us a dirty look before sporting the obligatory smile.

  Mitch came over briefly, said hello, and then went into our building to escape the crowd. We finished eating and the crowd was thinning. I could tell Kim was getting restless. I wasn’t sure what time her appointment with the Chief was and I didn’t want to bring it up. The three of us apparently all reached the same conclusion. The memorial was over and it was time to move on. Brett was thanking us for our help when Max showed up.

  “Oh my gosh, Sheridan, Kim, did you know that Katie was once married to Adam? And he was involved with one of the staff over at the rec center? And I heard that he was – you know – with one of the students? Can you believe it? I bet that was what got him killed – all that tom-catting around,” he rattled, shaking his head. Several people nearby turned toward him with obvious disgust.

  “Hello Max. Lower your voice, you’re creating a scene,” I hissed, embarrassed to be associated with his comments, even if they were correct. I hadn’t known about the staff person at the rec center, but she certainly would have had opportunity, and the same perceived motive as Kim. Reasonable doubt, perhaps.

  “Dr. Bentler, I think we need to chat again,” suggested Brett, as he physically started to take Max aside.

  Max looked at us imploringly, saying, “But, but…”

  As the two of them walked away, Kim looked at me, and asked, “What did you make of that?”

  I wasn’t quite sure which part she was asking about but went with the most obvious and answered, “I’m guessing that Max said something the detective didn’t know about. Not to mention, I don’t think he is particularly fond of Max.”

  I couldn’t help but chuckle at the grilling Max was likely to be getting. Kim and I went back to our offices. She said she needed to gather her stuff and head down to the police station. I asked her if she wanted me to go with her, but she shook her head. I gave her a hug and went to my office to get some work done. So far, I was not doing too well at accomplishing all that I planned.

  I was no sooner in my office, and Wayne called, again concerned about how I was holding up. I again declined his dinner invitation. A few more students stopped by. Rachel wasn’t one of them. Neither was Courtney. Thankfully, none of the ones I saw had a story similar to Rachel’s. I wasn’t sure what to think about Rachel not being at the memorial, so I went to see Terra and had her pull up Rachel’s student record. I asked Terra for Rachel’s home number. Terra looked at me funny when she realized Rachel was one of Adam’s, but all I told her was that I needed her home number. I wasn’t sure what I was going to say to whomever answered the phone, but I had to at least try.

  Back in my office, I dialed the number. When a man answered, I said, “This is Dr. Hendley from Cold Creek College, may I speak with Rachel please?”

  “Dr. Hendley? What kind of doctor are you? Why do you want to talk to my daughter?” he asked, a bit agitated to be sure.

  I about hit myself in the head, realizing what he might be thinking, and explained myself a little better. “I’m one of the faculty in the psychology department at Cold Creek. I assume you know that Rachel’s advisor, Dr. Millberg, died suddenly on Monday. I was calling to see how she was taking it, sir.”

  “Oh, yes, terrible situation. Rachel isn’t here right now. She’s been upset enough. No one she knew has ever died before. Her mother and I didn’t think that whole memorial thing would be helpful, so they went shopping and to lunch. I can tell her you called though,” he responded, sounding a lot less agitated or suspicious.

  “That would be good. I will probably see her on Monday anyway,” I answered, preparing to say good bye, and feeling relieved. He thanked me for calling, I said good-bye and hung up. Brett showed up in time for my sigh of resignation.

  “That bad, huh?” he asked with a smile, leaning against the door jam and looking good enough to eat.


  I answered, “Been a busy week and the semester hasn’t even started. I checked up on that student I told you about. I was worried about her when she didn’t come today, but apparently her parents decided she shouldn’t come. I at least feel better about that.” He nodded and I asked with a chuckle, “So how did it go with Max?’

  It was his turn to sigh and shake his head. “He is a complete … he exaggerated all his so-called information, and wasn’t very willing to reveal his sources. He finally admitted that it was Wesley who made a comment about Adam and a student. He didn’t know which staff person at the rec center, but they are all students except for the trainers.”

  He continued, “I don’t know if it is the same student who is the staff person or two different students. Since the student who was so upset isn’t the same student who talked to you, I am leaning toward two students. I will have to interview both Wesley and Courtney.” He exhaled and asked, “Any word from Kim?”

  I shook my head. He put out his hand, and said, “Come on, we both need a break. Show me that arboretum?” He smiled, and I took his hand. His hand was very warm and mine felt pretty small in his.

  As we left my office to go downstairs, he released my hand. We left the building and made our way past the caterers cleaning up, past the first stands of azaleas and rhododendrons, and entered the arboretum. It was a beautiful setting with various spots of color seemingly randomly placed. I explained that there were different paths and they were color-coded and different distances.

  We took the shorter blue path and started walking. This path would be about one-quarter mile in each direction. There were multiple varieties of trees, and at various points there were flowers and bushes that were indigenous to Virginia, like trailing arbutus, mountain laurel, more azaleas, and more rhododendrons. We came up on some benches nestled amid black-eyed Susan, Queen Anne’s lace, asters, and evening primrose, still in bloom, and sat down. It was nice to sit in silence and take in the calm. The folks in horticulture had done a great job of landscaping.