by Judith Mehl
Nick hadn’t noticed Kat. He had just begun his explanation of his furtive meeting arrangements with Richard Burrows. “Thanks for meeting so quickly with me, Richard.”
“No problem, as long as we talk fast. In 15 minutes I’ll probably be stuck in here. Why are we hiding in this sad excuse for a car?”
“I’ll ignore that in the interests of getting you out of here before you become a permanent fixture. I wanted to avoid Kat. As soon as she saw you she’d want to join in the conversation.”
“And that’s bad because?” Richard asked as he twisted his rear in the small seat trying to get comfortable. “I don’t usually mind her meddling. She has helped me solve a few crimes after all. I could probably tolerate her better than these seats right now.”
“OK, here’s the deal.” Nick pulled a photo out of the packet in his hands. “This is G. L. Petingill III. I wanted you to pass the photo around to all your men.”
“Petingill the third? He sounds classy, looks like a thug.”
“He’s a private investigator. An old friend of mine. I’ve hired him to keep an eye on Katharine. I’m worried about her since that run-in on the road yesterday.”
“Why do I get the feeling that you aren’t telling Katharine about this?”
“It would take a braver man than me to inform her she’s got a bodyguard whether she wants one or not.”
“Good point!”
“I want your men to know who he is so that they don’t arrest him by mistake, or worse, interfere. They are not to acknowledge him in any way. They should only come to his assistance if he requests it. He’ll mostly be shadowing Kat and keeping his eyes open around campus. He’ll report anything to you that might help in the murder investigation, though that’s not his priority right now.”
Richard attempted to stretch and gave up. “OK. As long as I’m stuck here can you give me a ride to my car in the South lot? I’m so tired I’d probably stumble over my own feet. I’ve got two men out sick and this case seems unending.”
Kat pulled out of the lot a minute before. She hadn’t wanted to be caught staring, though she thought it a strange meeting place. She wondered what Nick was up to but her mind quickly turned to her afternoon plans. Later she wandered her back yard with a cup of coffee and enjoyed the scent of the late-blooming flowers, all the more appreciated when she thought of the snowy winter to come.
Her rustic home was set back from the road in an acre of oak, birch, and pine. The house was ringed round with native laurel and rhododendron. Dogwood and more rhododendrons nestled in open areas of the neighbors’ woods. The peaceful surroundings were a balm to her soul turned cold from thoughts of murder. Charlie’s life seemed so empty. Why had no one noticed? Or had he preferred it that way? No one had stepped forward and called himself friend. No one had even offered to help close out his apartment when the time came. She hoped she’d have more to mourn her than that. And more to mark the passing of her life.
In the distance she heard the phone ring and raced for it, hoping it was Detective Burrows returning her call. She managed to grab it on the final ring, only to hear silence and the distinct click of the receiver being disconnected. Strange, but maybe the person hung up before realizing she had answered. Come to think of it there were a lot of silences on the answering machine also lately. She hung up the phone carefully, as if it might ring again if she wasn’t deliberate enough. It was beginning to spook her.
She contemplated the calls while refilling her birdfeeders—one with sunflower seed to attract the cardinals, nuthatches and chickadees, and one with peanuts for the blue jays and woodpeckers. She was proud of those feeders—the latest in anti-squirrel technology. They were the final result of countless episodes of woman against squirrel. It had taken months to perfect, numerous curses, and ingenious attempts gone awry, but it appeared that she had won, and the birds, and only the birds, were merrily eating the birdseed. The squirrels fed off the ground.
Inside she settled at her desk. It was time to get her life organized. She was twenty-nine, talented, and satisfied with her life, her friends, and her path to the future. Or she had been. Then Nick came along. He’d made no permanent murmurings, hadn’t even really made a move on her, but oh, how her heart tripped when he was near. The question was, “Now what?” She hated the thought of just waiting to see what would happen. She liked direction in her life. And with this murder, now, more than ever, security and closeness to other human beings seemed tantamount to sanity.
She called Burrows again. Maybe his investigation was coming to a close and life would return to a semblance of normalcy. Maybe that had been him earlier, returning her call, she justified. She felt a strange sense of relief when he came on the line. Like his voice would protect her or something, but from what she wasn’t sure.
Richard apologized. “I just walked in and got the message to call. What’s up?”
“Someone’s been calling and hanging up a lot lately. Mostly here at home. They even listen to my answering machine message, wait for the beep, and then after a few seconds, hang up. I’m not sure what they are trying to convey by that. I’m confused, and scared. And angry with myself because I am scared and it’s probably just a restless salesman.”
“They left no message at all?”
“Nothing.”
“Well, it’s not enough to go on. Wish I could help. Are you sure you want to stay there alone? Maybe it’s time to visit a friend for a while. We still don’t know if that car was following you or Robin.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
His men, Nick’s investigator, and the campus security guys would be tripping over each other there were so many of them around campus right now. No need to mention that to Katharine though.
“How good are your door and window locks?”
Kat glanced out the window by the phone, pulling aside the light netting she used as curtains in the study and stared at the unlocked lock. “Top of the line. It’s a carryover from the year I lived in New York.” No need to tell him that here she never remembered to lock them. That would change, at least for the time being.
She asked how the investigation was going.
“Progressing. We just don’t have anyone likely yet. We’re still hunting up people and checking backgrounds.”
She interspersed with her news from Maddy. “You can probably forget about Sean. From what the dean said I imagine he’s not a likely candidate. She explained about Sean not really wanting to be an M.D., therefore, he had no motive.”
Downings seems a dead end, too.
The student that suspected Charlie of stealing his enzyme?”
“Downings remembered Dr. Abbott’s name all right, as soon as my officer started questioning him, but he’s now over at the University of Illinois doing his graduate work. He also had an alibi for that night. But thanks for the tip. We never would have found him without your help.”
Burrows was an old friend as well as a detective. She found herself confiding her frustration to him. Her concern over Charlie’s passing without leaving much of a mark, her concern that the killer would never be found and that the unsettled feeling would never leave campus. He consoled her as best he could. “You know there were no clues found in the lab Katharine. We do know that the killer was probably left handed from the angle of the slashes; that he or she was about five-foot, seven to ten inches tall, and probably a male from Robin’s description of the voice. So we are making progress.”
“That’s not all that encouraging, Richard.”
Kat wasn’t about to give away Kelly if Robin didn’t. “So what did you and Robin discuss?”
“He admitted the professor wasn’t all that fond of him. But the man needed an extra student for his NADH study Robin’s sophomore year and it meshed with his own interests.
Kat held her tongue, not sure where the detective was leading.
“Robin gave some professor’s names as references to his character and the name of his counselor who could corroborat
e his story. In effect, Robin had no reason to hate Charlie and no gain in killing him. He had, on the other hand, much to lose from his death and subsequently the possible loss of his honors project.
“All in all, we only learned that it was probably a man from the sound of the voice.”
“Doesn’t help me much with my mystery caller.”
“Katharine, can’t you remember anything that might help us? Are you sure you didn’t see anything that the killer would find threatening? You were there that night. What could you have seen?”
“I’ve racked my brain. I remember nothing. Saw some kids in the hall. One even bumped into me, but I didn’t recognize anyone,” she shrieked.
“OK, OK, didn’t mean to upset you. But it’s very possible the killer thinks you know who he or she is. There are still some people who have no alibi. One is your friend Abner. He’s still on our list despite your analysis results. Stay away from him. Be careful. Be aware. And don’t be foolish!”
Chapter 19
Some combinations of forms are particularly desirable, such as the garland/angle combination. The softness of the garland derives strength and support from the angle so the writer is not a complete pushover. The angle is made softer by the garland, showing a greater willingness to adapt.
“Handwriting Analysis: The Complete Basic Book”
by Karen Amend and Mary Ruiz
Kat slowly inched her way into the basement and confronted the reality of one’s worst suspicions about fraternities. This room was blacklisted from the campus tour for visiting parents and prospective students. Dark from the lack of windows and redolent of 100 years of stale beer and spilled liquor it reeked of decay. The set of drums taking center stage in the corner, and the new coat of red paint on the walls breaking into the darkness, added the only modern touch. Yet hope lingered amidst the smoke of yesteryears, swirled around the lounge chairs scattered between the microphones, and echoes of those still waiting to be heard bounced off the amplifiers. Still there was an air of desertion and she wondered if Jason had directed her here with something sinister in mind. Then she saw Mick half-asleep on the sofa shrouded in a putty-colored cover that wafted with the stench of dead dreams and unknown organisms.
Her gasp aroused Mick. “What’s happening lady?”
Kat only slightly sympathized with the kid and his apparent hangover. “You want a cup of coffee?”
He groggily responded, “You took a wrong turn for the Cross Roads Café?”
She wondered why she let her demented ideas bring her to a place like this.
Mick straightened to a half–sitting position, buried his head in his hands, and groaned himself into coherency.
“Sorry. You lookin’ for me?”
“Well, I am looking for you if you’re Mick. I was told you might help me with a publicity idea of sorts.”
Mick, the leader of the band, “Sweatin’ Swillers,” though short on sleep, was always aiming for the big time and knew the value of promotion. He couldn’t imagine what this woman had to offer but aroused himself to find out.
“What say we get out of here and grab that cup a’ coffee? By then we’ll know for sure if I’m Mick and if I can help you. Been at the drums all night. We’re playing a gig here tonight and we needed the practice. Our frat’s holding a Halloween party and you never know who might hear you.”
Katharine followed him upstairs to the kitchen, breathing in fresher air as she surfaced from the stench of stale beer. The room still smelled stale, but this time it was of the grease from onions, fries, and hamburgers cooked to fuel the education of students long gone. Mick quickly found the coffeepot and Kat settled tentatively on the barstool in the island. She wasn’t sure if it was safe to sit but definitely knew it wasn’t safe to lean on the counter, what she could see of it through the debris that smelled like last year’s barbecue and looked older still. She’d been in fraternities before but shook her head at what a difference a few years could make. Those years must have opened her olfactory nerves for one.
Mick noticed her uncertainty and laughed. “It looks and smells bad but it’s really only three days old. We’ve got strict cleaning rules around here.” He rinsed out the pot and started a new one to brew.
She winced, glanced around and debated. Should she question his sanity, or hers?
She finally settled to the topic that brought her there—photographing the Halloween party for the magazine. She openly admitted she was going for contrast, but promised that she would only shoot what he agreed to and wanted an honest story. She explained that she already had clearance from the administration, and from Jason, the president of the fraternity. Jason had directed her to Mick to arrange particulars. She said she’d tried to reach him for days but he never seemed to be around. Now the party was upon them and she literally begged.
“The biggest problem will be if there are underage drinkers here. We all know this isn’t a dry campus. But I can’t condone serving to minors and I certainly can’t photograph them drinking. I’m looking for a few legitimate party shots. Students having fun on Halloween.”
Mick lit a cigarette and eyed her speculatively. He sucked on it with personal dedication while he considered the implications. “If you promise to run one shot of the band with your article, even if we’re just in the background, I’ll promise you a clean party. What time exactly did you say you’d be coming?”
Kat laughed, knowing the underage drinkers would be warned off ahead of time, for a part of the night anyway.
“Sorry, that wasn’t clear. I was voicing my concerns, not requesting you fix the party. I want to show life here as it really is, though I have to admit it would be easier to garner approval if I wasn’t advertising any underage drinking.”
“Cool. We don’t serve anyone underage here. Too many hassles in past years to make it worth our while. We card at the door just like a bar.”
Mick didn’t say what kind of card they’d let pass and Katharine didn’t ask. Better to let things ride.
She arranged a time and delighted in breathing deeply of the crisp autumn air as she headed eagerly back to her car. She looked forward to free time off before her evening photo shoot. Katharine wanted to spend the afternoon at home, knowing it might be a long work night—though some wouldn’t complain about having to attend a party for work
Meeting Maddy for coffee the morning after a frat party was not her best idea, Kat realized as she tried to steer her friend from the volatile subject of murder. “Maddy, we can’t just arrest people on your suspicions!”
“I didn’t say arrest him. I said I think they should take Abner in for questioning.”
Kat poured another cup of coffee, inhaling deeply to absorb its restorative powers. She was going to need it, she thought, as she tried to follow Maddy’s reasoning. “Why have you zeroed in on Abner? Just the other day we said his handwriting cleared him.”
“Well, you said he was being secretive about something. Besides, he won’t tell me what he was doing the night of the murder.”
“Maddy, you didn’t just out and ask him, did you? Burrows will kill me!”
“Yes, I did ask him. And why will Burrows kill you? I’m the one that asked.”
“Because Burrows always blames me when his investigations get compromised. And in this case, I am responsible. If I’d never confided in you you wouldn’t have gone after Abner.”
“Faulty logic,” Maddy said decisively as she buttered another scone, slathered on blackberry jam, then plunged into touchy territory. “You’ve been having a lot of faulty logic lately, just look at your relationship with Nick.”
She almost choked on her coffee. “What faulty logic? Worse yet, what relationship?”
“Oh come on. It’s one thing to ignore him as a suspect, but to deny you have a relationship?”
Kat didn’t know which accusation to tackle first. The relationship issue was slightly sensitive and she wanted to veer from it, but the other wasn’t much better. He’d been there that nigh
t; no one knew exactly when he’d arrived. And, he circumvented talking to anyone about the murder until the next morning. OK, she’d at least listen to what Maddy had to say.
Casually, to belie her deep concern, she asked, “What makes you think Nick could be involved? Did somebody say something?”
Maddy delayed, polishing off another scone. How could that woman eat so much and never gain a pound, Kat wondered as she waited impatiently. She smiled at the waitress and waved her away before Maddy ordered more food.
Finally her friend daintily wiped her mouth. “The problem is what hasn’t been said. No one seems to know anything about the man. He’s friendly enough, and everyone seems to like him, but if you ask anything at all about him they admit ignorance. Like, what did he do there? What type of work? Where in the agency? Where did he live? What’s he doing here only temporarily? Etc. etc.”
“Oh, that stuff. Well, I have to admit I’ve been wondering myself.” She pondered confiding her other fears as Maddy stared knowingly at her, waiting for more. Could she confess her apprehension that Nick might be playing her for a fool? Keeping her busy to cloud the issue? What was the issue?
She stumbled around a bit, trying to think of a good way to ask. Maddy just nodded patiently and waited.
“Do you think Nick could have done it? You know, killed Charlie?”
“Actually, I don’t think he did,” Maddy said with conviction. “But do you have any evidence that would clear him?”
Fear mingled with suspicion as Kat attempted to organize her thoughts. She couldn’t trust her own judgment; her feelings were too heightened where Nick was concerned. So she used Maddy’s approach. What evidence was there either way?
“Good point, Maddy.” Nothing puts him in that spot and nothing clears him. We know that President Ludlow trusts him, more than his own staff, or he wouldn’t have put Nick in charge of the internal investigation and as spokesman on the murder. Borrows doesn’t seem to have doubted him either.