Murder at Cold Creek College

by Christa Nardi

  He grunted and hissed something about Adam wanting him to pay for the picture or pictures. On a roll, and because it came to mind and popped out, I asked, “Was he using it to blackmail you?”

  My opinion of Adam, as low as it had ever been, was taking a quick nosedive. Pictures, DVDs, blackmail? We hadn’t seen any DVDs or flash drives in the mess we had cleaned up. For someone in Oakland’s position and obvious chauvinism, having it get out that his wife cheated on him would be a huge blow to his ego and his power. Not to mention his caveman mentality would likely kick in and he’d feel a need to protect his wife’s as well as his own reputation.

  His grunt in response to my question was confirmation. That gave me some room for negotiation, maybe. I suggested, “Look, so far I haven’t found anything in Adam’s office to incriminate your wife. If you get rid of me, someone else will have to clean out the rest of his office, including his desk. I could finish the job and give you whatever I find.” I wasn’t sure he bought it, but his grip on my arm loosened enough that I might get circulation back. If nothing else, I might at least be able to buy myself some time.

  We were heading for campus. I prayed someone was going to see us and realize there was something odd about me being in his car. Of course, in his position of power, even if they did think it strange, they might choose to overlook it. He pulled into the gated lot where I assumed he usually parked. Unfortunately, it was early and apparently administrators don’t come to work this early. He looked at me sternly and cautioned, “Do what I say, and don’t scream. Understand?”

  I nodded. He increased his grip on my arm and pulled me out his door. If he’d had a stick shift, it would have been worse. Once out of the car, he kept hold of my arm and we walked in the back entrance to the administration building. I didn’t even know there was a back entrance, or back stairs, but up we went three flights and my feet didn’t always reach the stairs. We finally arrived at the back door to his office. I guessed back doors were probably a good thing if you needed to avoid somebody. Once in his office, he let go of my arm. He pushed me in the direction of a chair and hissed, “Sit down, and shut up.”

  I did as I was told and as he pulled his cell phone out, I remembered I had my cell in my pants pocket. I rubbed my arm in an attempt to regain circulation to my fingers. Oakland didn’t take his eyes off me as he said into the phone, “Yeah. I got her.” Then after a pause, “Get over here now so we can figure out what to do.” He didn’t have the speaker on and I couldn’t hear who he was talking to. I concluded from his end of the conversation he had a partner in this mess.

  As he stood there glaring at me, I tried to guess who it might be. Janice? His wife? Coming up empty, I again tried to convince him I could help, rather than being a threat. I somehow didn’t see myself as being a threat. I needed to convince him and his partner.

  “Like I said in the car, if there is something in Adam’s office I can look for it for you. I can imagine how embarrassing it might be for you if any photos came out that implicated you or your wife in his murder,” I suggested.

  I still worked at speaking calmly and hopefully being perceived as an ally instead of a threat. I also tried to convince myself all he wanted was any intimate pictures, rather than that he was the murderer. Unfortunately, my first impression of him when he grabbed me from my own driveway was making it difficult to deny he was the murderer. I still had to consider I was likely to be the next victim.

  While we waited, he opened the cabinet below his bookshelves and poured himself a drink. He never stopped looking at me. I had a need to fill the silence, but I knew from my training to keep silent. I waited him out and hoped he would talk.

  At one point, when he sighed, I offered, “Do you want to tell me about it?” in my best, non-judgmental, therapist voice. He shook his head, but then started talking anyway.

  “I should have known there was a reason Heather wanted me to take this job. I had a great job, loved my job. I was happy. I was semi-retired and doing what I’d always dreamed of doing. Agriculture is my life, but she said she wanted a change of scenery. She said she’d be happier here. She convinced me I could get involved with the horticulture department here and make it a nationally known program. I’ve done that almost. The horticulture department is ranked in the top 10 nationally.” He was speaking quietly and his wistfulness was apparent.

  I nodded, and he continued, “Heather is the light of my life. I can’t imagine loving anyone the way I love her.” I could see the tears in his eyes and I could almost feel his pain. She had obviously betrayed his love.

  “I was ready for retirement, wanted to spend more time with her. I needed to retire to something that wasn’t as demanding in order to spend more time with her. She said we could spend more time together. You understand?” he asked. I nodded.

  “We came down here to visit and I was impressed with the horticulture program. Heather talked about the social venues, the country clubs, golf, and the women she met. She said she would be very happy here. I wasn’t sure I would be, but Heather was happy and I accepted the position. It didn’t dawn on me to check out everyone on the faculty. I only looked at who was in horticulture.”

  He shook his head and was quiet. As he sat there, I could almost palpate his rage building back up. And in that few minutes, his mention of his wife’s name, his comment about not checking the rest of the faculty, and her tears on the stage at the memorial came together. Heather was Adam’s first wife.

  I didn’t know what to say, and didn’t want to blurt out my conclusion, so I sat there, silent. I glanced at his clock when it chimed 8 o’clock. I cleared my throat and said, “Mr. Oakland, you probably remember my schedule. I teach at 8, and someone will be looking for me.”

  I had hoped that would trigger a need for him to let me go, but instead he handed me his phone, and said, “Call the office. Tell them you are sick. Tell them to cancel class. One wrong word…”

  As he loomed over me, I called the office and Terra picked up. “Hi Terra. It’s Sheridan,” I paused. Terra responded and asked what number was it I was calling from. Oakland motioned with his hand for me to get on with it. “Terra, I woke up feeling badly and I’m not coming in. Can you go let my class out?” I asked. I was careful of what I was saying, but hoped she would pick up that something besides the phone number wasn’t right.

  When she answered, “Dr. Hendley, are you alright? You never call in sick,” I was very glad he again hadn’t thought to put the phone on speaker.

  I answered, “No.” Then after a pause, I said, “Must be the fish I had with Kim last night.”

  She replied, “Are you telling me to go find Dr. Pennzel, that something is fishy?”

  I silently thanked her for catching on and answered, “Yes, thanks. Talk to you later.” I hung up as I could see Oakland’s impatience rising.

  Then I handed him back his phone. To him I said, “She’ll take care of it.” I only hoped that when she found Kim, Kim would grasp the meaning and call in reinforcements. And maybe they could trace the cell phone back to Oakland.

  I tried to get him back to telling me his story, but there was a knock on his back door. He didn’t take his eyes off of me as he let his wife into the office. I suppose I could have tried to run for the other door and hoped Janice would be there and save me. I had a feeling he would have decked me in a single bound. It’s not that I was giving him super powers, but physically he resembled a football player. I could see him tackling me without any problem or hesitation.

  As I watched the two of them, it dawned on me that the old photo was of Heather, probably before or when they were married. I must have made a sound as I came to the realization, because they both directed their attention to me.

  “What?” Heather asked.

  “I realized that we did find a photo of you yesterday. An old photo. It looked to be from about 20 years ago. I didn’t recognize it then, but I’m sure it was you,” I explained as matter of factly as I could muster. I fought to maintain ca
lm and diffuse the situation.

  “Where… who has it now? Did you find any others, more recent?” she asked. As she asked her eyes darted between her husband and me.

  I noted Oakland’s face was getting red again and I chose my words carefully. “Just the one photo of you. There were lots of other photos, but portrait-type shots. Officer Hirsch took all of them,” I explained.

  Heather looked at her husband and then at me. I realized she didn’t look particularly sorry, only scared. After a few minutes, she asked, “Did you get to his desk or his cabinets?”

  “No. I told your husband all of this. All we did yesterday was get the stuff off the floor. Some of the photos were in the books on the floor. We didn’t get to the desk, the rest of the books on the shelves, or the cabinet beneath the shelves. One way or another, somebody is going to go through all the stuff and find whatever you think is there, you know,” I offered.

  I tried to make myself useful as opposed to disposable. Oakland hadn’t responded to this bait earlier, but it was worth a try with her. Besides, based on his statements earlier, she had a lot of control over him.

  They moved a little further away, but directly in line with me, and had a hushed conversation. I looked around, trying to see if there was anything I could use as a weapon. Then the phone on the desk rang. I think all three of us jumped, and Oakland moved toward the desk.

  Heather pulled a small pistol out. She aimed it at me with one hand, while she put the index finger of her other hand to her lips. I got the message. I decided it was a good thing she hadn’t been here when I’d talked to Terra.

  “Yes, Janice. Please confirm with the President and Provost that I am available for the meeting at 2PM today,” he said into the phone. I was impressed that he sounded like this was any other day at the office despite the beads of sweat on his face and his obvious anger.

  “I am in conference this morning. Janice, why don’t you take the day off and start the long weekend early? It’s pretty quiet and I don’t believe I will need anything else today,” he suggested.

  My heart fell. I thought that at least if she were on the other side of the door, there was a chance she’d walk in and wonder at this conference. Maybe think to bring in cold water. Cold water sounded good right about then.

  “You, too,” he said and ended the call. Then he looked at Heather and me. “Chief Pfeiffe has called a meeting for this afternoon to review the status of the investigation,” he stated and moved toward me. His nonverbal cues and his size were threatening. I tried to back up in the chair, but that was pretty hopeless.

  “What are they going to say? What did your boyfriend tell you? And don’t play innocent, I know he never went back to his hotel last night,” he snapped.

  “He didn’t tell me anything.” Deciding to go with his insinuations instead of being affronted by them, I added, “Do you think we spend our time talking about Adam and his murder?” I made a valiant effort to smile to support the innuendo.

  Heather sniffled and he looked dismayed. The two of them continued their discussion at a distance. I couldn’t make out any of what they said. Then Oakland had another drink. Whenever he was not focused on me, she made sure I knew she was armed. I had no doubt she not only had taken self-defense classes but that she knew how to use the gun.

  “Excuse me, but could I use the restroom please?” I asked. I figured maybe if I got to leave the office to go to the ladies room, maybe somebody else would be in there. Maybe Misty. Or maybe I could use my phone to call for help.

  Oakland walked over to a door I hadn’t noticed and opened it. I went in and he locked the door behind me. Funny, most bathrooms have a lock on the inside. Why did I get so lucky as to suggest something that ended with me being locked in? I pulled out my phone, but I had no signal. I used the facilities, and then knocked on the door. I got a resounding, “Make yourself comfortable” from Oakland, and leaned against the counter to wait.

  I went over the conversation with Terra, and hoped she had gotten to Kim. I also hoped Kim would figure out that she needed to call the Chief or Brett, though I wasn’t sure she had Brett’s number. Hopefully, Terra would think to give someone the phone number from Oakland’s phone and they could trace it.

  The thing was, I wasn’t too sure how long all that would take, or if they would think to check the most obvious place – Oakland’s office. He had done a pretty good job on the phone with Janice so they might even conclude he wasn’t involved. Or maybe the phone was one of those throw-aways. I decided to enter a text to Brett and Kim and anyone else and hope that at some point the messages would get sent. I put my phone on silent to make sure the beep wouldn’t alert them I had the phone or a message had been sent.

  I used one of the paper cups and helped myself to some water. I shifted to thinking about Adam. I now believed he had taken incriminating photos or recorded his activities, at least with Heather. I sure hoped he hadn’t done that with Kim. I was pretty sure that if any recordings were found, they would become evidence. Any good defense attorney could use those DVDs as motive for multiple people to get to reasonable doubt. I hoped Martin Cohn was a good attorney if Kim needed to use him.

  They left me in the bathroom for about 30 minutes, and several times I checked my phone for a signal, but nothing. I heard the tumblers and then the door opened. Oakland took my arm and pushed me back to where I’d been sitting before. Then he handed me a bottle of water. I opened it, noting the seal had not been broken, and drank, glad it was at least cold. What I wished for though was a cup of coffee.

  Finally, Oakland cleared his throat. He then explained, “Okay, here’s the deal. That scumbag had some pictures and a DVD of Heather in a … compromising position, let’s say. We think these are in his office. You’re going to go to the office and tell them you are feeling better now. You’re going to spend the morning searching for those pictures and the video. Heather is going to help you and make sure you do what you are supposed to do and nothing else. Understand?”

  I nodded. I looked at Heather. She held the gun by her side, and then slipped it into her pocket. I did understand. Here, in Oakland’s office, I was the only one in danger. Back at the department, with students, staff and other faculty, there would be a lot of people in danger. Even if her gun had only six bullets, that was six too many.

  Oakland looked at his watch, and added, “You might as well relax, we need to wait another 20 minutes or so in order for your upset stomach to settle and be believable.” Obviously, he had used the comment about the fish in hatching this plan. Guess it was a good thing I hadn’t come up with flu as my excuse.

  I sat and drank my water and said, “I’m curious. How do you know there is a DVD or photo to find? Couldn’t he have lied about it?” I wouldn’t discount his being a liar given everything else. I watched the color rise in Oakland’s face and I wished I hadn’t been so curious.

  “Believe me, it exists or at least it did. He sent me a clip to make sure I believed him,” Oakland responded and looked ready to kill. Heather put her hand on his arm, and muttered something that sounded like “I’m sorry.” I didn’t say it, but I thought it was a bit late for sorry.

  Oakland continued, “That man was like an addiction or a cancer. No cure. And he preyed on women. You know he was screwing students too, and not one of them ever came forward to complain.”

  His description of Adam as an addiction certainly jived with Kim’s behavior. I wondered if Misty and Katie were similarly prey to relapses. And what about all those women he had over for dinner. Would the DVDs include the entrée that was prepared? Hmmm, maybe the recipes were in the desk too.

  There was silence for a while and then Oakland signaled to Heather. She said, “Let’s go, and don’t forget I have a gun. Ken made sure I knew how to shoot, and I am rather good. I wish I’d shot Adam’s nuts off.”

  For some reason I thought of how Max would have winced at that comment and it made me smile inside, but the smile didn’t quite make it to the surface. As w
e walked down the back stairs, I tried to figure out a way to trip her without risking getting shot. Definitely a self-defense class. As we crossed the quad to the Humanities building, I asked her, “So, Heather, how am I supposed to explain your help here?”

  She hesitated and then said, “You introduce me. Say my name and that I’m the Chancellor’s wife. I’ll take it from there.”

  I nodded, not quite sure how to avoid any interactions. I hoped other faculty and staff would be sufficiently intimidated by her position to leave us alone. And, hopefully, at least one person would think to call and ask about the strangeness of it all. As we entered the building, I decided I had nothing to lose and asked, “Do you mind if we get coffee? It will look odd if I don’t have coffee.”

  She nodded, and we entered Georg’s. The line was short, and nobody approached us until we were about to leave the crowded café. Max came barreling in, and stopped short. “Sheridan, I thought you were sick? Terra cancelled your class and seemed concerned. I hope you’re not contagious and coming in here spreading germs,” he rattled. He seemed completely oblivious to the woman by my side.

  “No, Max, no germs. Probably some bacteria in the fish I ate last night. You know, food poisoning. But I am feeling better and figured I’d better come in and get some work done,” I answered. He didn’t ask about Heather and I didn’t volunteer. I’m not sure he even noticed her.

  “Glad to hear you’re better. I have too much to do with the new class and more students. I’ll talk to you later Sheridan,” he responded and was gone.

  My coffee in hand, I started up the stairs. Heather followed, not saying a word. I went directly to the main office to get the keys from Ali. Terra looked surprised to see me. Then registered additional surprise and confusion when she spotted Heather following behind me. I wasn’t sure if she knew who Heather was or if it was that someone was following me.