by Rick Homan
Adams put his hat on one of the easy chairs, sat on the other, and took out his notebook. When he looked up at me, his expression softened a bit. I think he could see I was scared. “You have some information for me?”
“Yes, Sheriff. This afternoon—over an hour ago, now—I went to the home of Professor Jacob Schumacher to discuss the work of my student, Kate Conrad. He advised her on her research. When I mentioned that she had discovered an image in the mural on the wall of the chapel—something that could be embarrassing to the college—he said, ‘That’s why I had to get rid of her.’”
“Those were his words?”
“That’s what I remember.”
He made a note. “And what time was this?”
“I got to his house at three o’clock. I don’t know how long we talked. When he said that, he picked up the poker from the fireplace and walked toward me. I got scared and ran out.”
Adams made another note. “You said this image is embarrassing?”
“It’s a picture of a child who has died from being stabbed many times. This idea has an evil history going back hundreds of years. It’s used to illustrate false accusations about Jews killing children.”
Adams looked up from his pad and stared at me wide-eyed. I am sure that in his many years of law enforcement, and probably in the military before that, he had seen a lot of evil things, but apparently he hadn’t seen or heard of this one. “You said you were afraid. Did he threaten you or try to hit you with the poker?”
“I didn’t stay around to find out.”
Adams nodded and finished his note-taking. “Are you willing to sign a statement to this effect, giving all the details of this event?”
“Yes. Absolutely.”
He put away his notebook and stood up. “All right. Thank you, Dr. Noonan.” He picked up his hat.
“Are you going to arrest him?”
“I’ll speak to him.”
“Sheriff, I’m afraid to go back to my home. I don’t think I’m safe on campus with him here.”
“I’m going to speak with him right now. I’ll let you know whether you should take any special precautions.”
Given the situation, I decided to see whether having “doctor” in front of my name would get me any special privileges. I sidestepped to put myself between him and the door. “I want to go with you.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“I want to be there when you speak to him.”
“That’s not how we do things.”
I remembered what Abbie said about my purse, but I needed a reason to go with him and confront Jacob. “The thing is, Sheriff, I was so afraid that I ran out of his house and left my purse behind. I have to go back and get it, but I can’t go back by myself.”
He took time to inhale and let it out slowly. “All right then.” He glanced at the bedroom door. “We should let your friend know we’re leaving.”
I knocked on the door. Abbie opened it and joined us.
“Thank you, ma’am,” said Adams. “We’ll be on our way now.”
“You’re welcome, Sheriff.”
Adams left. On the way out the door, I looked back at Abbie. She gave me a thumbs up.
Chapter 36
When the sheriff’s cruiser stopped on College Avenue in front of Jacob’s house, I had a sinking feeling that he wouldn’t be there. I could be stuck without my keys, phone, and wallet. I started to panic, so I focused on the present. I was in a sheriff’s cruiser with two officers who were taking my story seriously. This was a huge improvement over my situation when I ran out of Jacob’s house an hour ago. Things were going well, and they would continue to get better. I had to keep telling myself that.
When the sheriff and his deputy got out of the car, I tried to do the same. “Hey! My door won’t open.”
The deputy opened my door from the outside. As I got out, he said, “Ma’am, I suggest you wait for us in the car.”
“I’m coming in with you.”
“It’s for your own safety, ma’am.”
“I have to get my purse,” I said too loudly.
The deputy looked to Adams, who rested his eyes on me. He couldn’t help looking down on me because of his height, but it seemed he was no longer looking down on me as an inferior person.
He turned to the deputy and said, “It’s okay. She might be able to help.”
It wasn’t the most lavish compliment I’d ever received, but it made me feel better than anything I’d heard in a long time. The deputy nodded and waved for me to follow the sheriff up the front walk to the house.
When we got to the front door, Adams paused before ringing the bell. “One word, and my deputy will escort you out.”
I nodded.
He rang the bell.
It took Jacob only a few seconds to answer the door. “Good afternoon, Sheriff. Oh, Nicole, you left this when you were here earlier.” He picked up my purse from a cabinet by the door and handed it to me.
I was glad to have it back in my hands, but it was unnerving how Jacob made it sound like we’d had a normal, social visit.
Adams asked, “Dr. Schumacher, may we come in and speak with you for a few minutes?”
“Of course.” He stepped back and waved us in. “Let’s sit in here,” he said, pointing the way through the archway to the living room.
I took the armchair furthest from the door. The sheriff took the love seat, and Jacob sat in his usual armchair with his back to the archway and clasped his hands over his belly. The deputy sat behind me in a chair by the windows.
I glanced at the fireplace. The poker hung in its usual place alongside the other tools. Seeing it made me shiver. The book I had thrown was back in its place on the table, and the display case in the corner was intact, as I expected. I was glad to have Adams between the professor and me.
Adams had his notebook out. “Professor, were you acquainted with the student who is recently deceased, Kate Conrad?”
Jacob sighed. “Yes, I was. It’s very sad.”
“Was she a student in one of your classes?”
“No. I met her earlier this semester.”
“Under what circumstances did you meet her?”
Jacob smiled while still seeming to feel sad. It was an impressive performance. “I think Nicole could tell you better than I could.”
The sheriff said, “I’d like to hear it from you.”
Jacob’s eyes searched the far wall of the room as if he could see the past illustrated there. “I dropped over to the chapel one afternoon when Nicole was there studying the mural. She has been generous about sharing her research with me. Her student happened to be there with her.”
“Was this the first time you met Kate Conrad?”
“I believe it was, yes.”
“And when was this?”
“I can’t recall. It was shortly before we heard the news of her death. Do you recall, Nicole?”
Adams ignored the question and forged ahead. “Was this the only time you spoke with her?”
“No. I think we spoke in passing one other time.”
I crossed my arms and held on tight so I wouldn’t blurt out that he had spoken to Kate at the library the next day, the day she died.
Adams glanced at his notebook before asking, “Professor, were you aware of the nature of Kate Conrad’s research?”
At this, Jacob showed the first genuine surprise I had seen since we arrived. He also seemed irritated. “As I said, I met her in the chapel with Nicole, so I assume she was studying the mural.”
Adams turned to me. “Is that correct, Dr. Noonan?”
Apparently the one-word rule had been lifted. “Yes, and Dr. Schumacher knows that very well since he called Kate’s parents after she died and asked them to send her notebook to him.”
Adams turned to Schumacher. “Is this true, Doctor?”
Jacob smiled and looked at me. “That’s right. You were supposed to come by and pick that up last week, weren’t you, Nicole? If you like, I ca
n get it for you now.”
I was ready to demand that he explain how I was supposed to pick it up when he had gone behind my back to get it, but before I could speak, Adams asked Jacob, “Where were you on the evening when Kate Conrad was killed?”
If Adams had smacked his face, Jacob could not have looked more surprised, but he recovered quickly and seemed to shrug off the question. “I was at home.” He chuckled. “I don’t have an alibi. Do I need one?”
“Professor, I think it would be a good idea to get that notebook now. Where is it?”
“Upstairs, in my study,” said Jacob, already halfway out of his chair.
“Deputy Harding will go with you.”
Jacob froze, standing in front of his chair. “I don’t see why that’s necessary—to be followed by an officer in my own home.”
Adams sounded apologetic as he said, “It’s a protocol we’re required to follow.”
Jacob hesitated, glancing back and forth between Adams and me. “Very well then,” he said.
Jacob went through the archway, across the foyer, and up the stairs. The deputy was a few steps behind him all the way.
When they were out of sight, Adams leaned toward me and spoke softly. “He’s not going to confess. I’m not sure how much more we can accomplish here.”
I pointed toward the fireplace. “Take the poker. It’s evidence.”
Adams shook his head. “Of what? It’s not the murder weapon. From examining the wound, the medical examiner says she was struck by something about two inches wide with a flat surface. That poker is round.”
Having never thought about the exact nature of Kate’s wound, I felt a bit queasy. “Can we search the house?”
“He wouldn’t still have the weapon here.”
“He might, and if he does, he’ll certainly get rid of it after this visit. This might be our only chance.”
Adams mulled that for a moment and said, “I’ll see what I can do.”
We heard footsteps on the stairway. Adams studied his notebook and I let my eyes scan the items on the mantle.
“Here you are,” said Jacob with a smile as he set the notebook on the coffee table between us.
I was jolted by the sight of such an ordinary object—a spiral-bound notebook with a student’s doodles on the cover—endowed with such importance by the events of recent weeks.
“Well then, if there’s nothing else . . .” said Jacob as he stood by his chair.
Adams rose from the sofa. It was like watching a bear go up on its hind legs. “With your permission, Professor, we would like to walk through the house.”
I’ll admit I enjoyed watching Jacob’s mask of humor and detachment slide from Jacob’s face.
“For what purpose?”
“It would help us eliminate you as a suspect.”
Jacob could no longer pretend to take all this lightly. “Oh! I’m a suspect now?” There was resentment in his tone.
“Everyone is a suspect until we bring charges against someone. We just want to look through the house so we can report there is nothing here to connect you to the crime.”
“Excuse me, Sheriff, but I believe you need a search warrant to do that.”
“We’ll get one if you prefer, but if we can do this now we won’t have to come back and bother you later this evening. Also, this way there won’t be anything on record about getting a warrant to search your house.”
Adams won the staring contest. Jacob said, “All right, but please be careful. I don’t want anything disturbed or broken.”
“What’s through here?” asked Adams as he walked toward the archway that lead to the dining room. Jacob followed him.
Chapter 37
Deputy Harding gestured for me to join him. “Stay with me,” he said as we went into the kitchen of Jacob’s house.
Harding opened the broom closet and went on to open cabinets and drawers. I was surprised at how little Jacob had in his kitchen. Obviously, he didn’t spend much time there.
After a few minutes, I heard Jacob’s voice from the next room. “Where are the others?” A moment later he came through the swinging door that separated the kitchen and dining room. He glared at the deputy. “What are you doing in here?”
“We have to look at everything,” said Harding.
“No. I want to be present when you are searching. I want everyone in one room.”
Adams appeared behind him. “Professor, if we do it that way, we’re going to be here a very long time. Deputy Harding is a professional. He’s trained. He will leave everything as he found it. If he has questions, he will speak to you and me immediately.”
Jacob seemed on the verge of exploding as he pointed at me. “She has no right to search my belongings.”
“I’m here to make sure she does not touch anything,” said Harding. He looked at me. “You understand that, don’t you?”
I folded my arms and nodded.
“Is there a closet by the front door?” asked Adams.
Jacob marched through the kitchen to the foyer. Adams followed.
Harding finished in the kitchen, and we walked out to the foyer just in time to hear Adams ask, “How many rooms are upstairs?”
“Three, plus the bathroom,” said Jacob.
We all went up and followed the same method. The sheriff went with Jacob into the bedroom; Harding and I went into the guest room. The closet there was empty as were most of the drawers. The bed, dresser, chair, and nightstand had the look of furniture bought second hand to furnish this room. It seemed Jacob had done just enough to make it look like a guest room without going to the expense and bother of making it comfortable for a guest.
Harding and I finished and waited in the hallway outside the bedroom door. Jacob’s own room was luxurious by comparison with a leather club chair by the window, art on the walls, and a fine carpet between the bed and dresser.
When the sheriff and Jacob came out and went into the study, Harding and I looked into the bathroom and the linen closet. Again, we found only bare necessities.
I might have felt sorry for Jacob while this search went on, but whenever I remembered we were looking for an object with a flat surface heavy enough to cause fatal brain damage my sympathy evaporated.
Again, I waited with the deputy in the hall and peeked through the doorway while Adams and Jacob finished their search of the study, which contained the book collection of a man who knew he would never have to move to another home. It covered two walls of the room and included many fine bindings.
Adams called the deputy into the room, and together they pulled out a few books on each shelf to make sure there was nothing hidden behind them. Jacob sat on the small sofa across the room, barely able to keep still, he was so upset by this invasion of privacy. While Adams finished the bookshelves, Harding looked into the closet and looked under each piece of furniture as he had in the guest room.
They proceeded downstairs without a word and I followed. When we were all in the foyer, Adams asked, “Is there a basement?” Without replying, Jacob turned and led us through the kitchen to a door that opened onto a wooden stairway. He switched on a light and went down followed by Adams and Harding. At the doorway, I paused to get used to a musty smell rising from below and to let my eyes adjust to the darkness.
When I got to the foot of the stairs, I saw Harding already at the far end of the room using his flashlight to look under a fuel-storage tank and heater. Adams was inspecting a workbench on the right side of the room. Jacob stood by some pieces of luggage and file boxes stacked haphazardly in the center of the floor. A set of wooden shelving covered about half of the left wall. The shelves had nothing on them.
The foundation walls of the house were made of stone fitted with mortar, and the concrete floor was dusty. Narrow windows, three on each side, let some daylight in, and a bare light bulb burned in the middle of the ceiling.
I stopped near the workbench since it seemed to be the most likely place to find a murder weapon. Apparently, Jacob had
little use for it. The rack held only a few screwdrivers, pliers, and a hammer. On the work surface, two new paintbrushes were laid out along with a new can of paint. On the shelf below were several old paint cans. A stepladder leaned against the wall next to it. I couldn’t see anything with a flat surface that could be used to inflict a blow. Nonetheless, Adams used his flashlight to go over everything.
After looking at the items stacked in the middle of the room, Harding waited at the foot of the stairs.
Adams finished at the workbench and looked to Harding, who shook his head. “Thank you, Professor,” said the sheriff.
Jacob wasted no time crossing the room and climbing the stairs. Harding followed. Adams waved for me to go next, and I went up, all the while wishing I could think of some excuse to stay and keep looking. I couldn’t think of any place that hadn’t been checked, but I didn’t want to give up on finding something that would prove Jacob murdered Kate.
When I got to the top of the stairs, I saw that Jacob and Harding had already gone through to the foyer. Adams came up after me, and I stopped in the middle of the kitchen to speak to him. “Sheriff, we have to check one more thing.”
He looked pained, but he waited to hear what I had to say.
“Those shelves in the basement are new. The wood is bare, and there’s a new can of paint on the workbench.”
Adams nodded. “I saw that.”
“On Tuesday of this week, I saw Huey Littleton loading some lumber into his truck in front of this house.”
“The professor probably hired him to build some shelving in the basement.”
“There’s one other thing we should check. Will you lend me your flashlight?”
Jacob’s voice sounded from the foyer. “Sheriff, please! This has gone on long enough.”
“I think we’re finished here,” Adams said to me.
“This will just take a minute. We have to look now. This could be our last chance.”
Adams frowned, but he called out to the foyer, “We just need to look at one more thing.” He handed me his flashlight and followed me back down the stairs.
The shelving was built of two-by-four lumber and plywood. It stood about as tall as I do, which left space on top to store things. I set up the stepladder and looked at the top of the new shelving. The entire surface was unmarked.