Death by Dissertation (A Cassandra Sato Mystery Book 1)

by Kelly Brakenhoff

Surprisingly, Cassandra understood his signs and nodded once. Her knees bent, and her hands slowly moved towards a small cardboard box she planned to throw at Schneider before running. Lance’s body tightened like a spring ready to uncoil.

  Peterson had quietly backed up towards the dividing wall. He’d better not stop them when they ran out the door. She might be small, but she had years of experience wrestling with her older brother and she wasn’t giving up.

  In the moment before Lance moved, Schneider used his left hand to aim the nitrogen hose at Lance’s face only 6 feet away. A direct spray would be disfiguring, if not deadly. With his right hand, Schneider signed and spoke at the same time. “Stop! You can’t tackle me, and she’s not going anywhere . . . Your roommate ruined everything.”

  Recognition animated Lance’s face and his eyes widened. Taking a step towards Schneider, in a raw, gravelly voice he yelled and signed. “I saw you signing on our video phone. Austin was helping you. I knew you could understand me signing.”

  That night at the obstacle course when Lance had asked Meg about Schneider . . . he’d been right about Schneider being able to understand ASL.

  Lance’s face screwed up into rage and he accused, “I knew it! You killed him!”

  Cassandra thought Schneider looked shaky, and worried Lance might spook him worse. She couldn’t get Lance’s attention. His eyes were fixed on Schneider.

  Schneider shook his head no. “He did that himself when he poked his hand Thursday night. We had 10 extra rats that Austin tracked separately. I couldn’t believe it when he texted me Friday that he felt sick. How unfortunate. I got here as fast as I could . . . but it was too late.”

  The puzzle pieces slid into place and Cassandra understood. That’s what the street preacher had meant when she’d yelled at them during the parade! She’d seen Dr. Schneider when he came to Edgerton. He was the evil one. “YOU took his phone? You came to the stairs after he fell, and you took his phone?”

  “He was beyond help when I arrived.” His chin jerked in Lance’s direction. “I didn’t know you had his laptop.” He shrugged again, and Cassandra’s back teeth ground together. She wanted to smack the self-absorbed expression off his face with a vehemence that surprised her.

  Peterson’s attention had quietly shifted between Schneider and Lance until he erupted. “I’ll never finish my dissertation because of all this crap. The IRB isn’t gonna just let this go!”

  His arms flew out wide to his sides. “There’s no protocol for this. I did everything you asked. I rewrote the procedure. I analyzed the data. I even hurried things up so we’d finish on time.” He slapped one palm in the other to emphasize each point. “I’ve dedicated the last year of my miserable life working on this project. The government is going to pull their freaking funding! You crazy bastard!”

  The hose in Schneider’s hand shook slightly. Cassandra tried to catch Peterson’s eye. If all three of them worked together, they could overpower Schneider.

  Peterson’s voice climbed into a high whine, and he laced his hands together placing them on his head. “I thought we were going to develop the synthetic SOD enzyme together after I graduated. We were going to make supplements and beef snacks!”

  Cassandra saw movement in the darkened hallway behind Peterson. She hadn’t heard the keypad again; the door must have been left open.

  When a figure took two more silent steps into the light next to Peterson, she saw him clearly. He was tall, heavy-set with dark hair, wearing a black fleece jacket and jeans. His face was covered by the same eye mask she’d seen him wearing Friday night.

  In an instant, her anger turned to panic. She screamed loudly and grabbed Lance’s arm. Zorro raised his black-gloved hand and pointed a gun at the group.

  A deep, scratchy voice came from the masked man. “Good thing I followed her. Sounds like you were going to double-cross us. Dad isn’t going to like that, Arnie. You always were an arrogant windbag. Enough yakking. Let’s go.” He waved Schneider forward while the gun remained trained on them. Zorro’s head jerked towards Lance. “Tell that kid to freeze so I don’t have to shoot him.”

  Schneider hoisted the cooler and headed towards the exit. “A gun pointed at your chest is like flipping someone the bird, Roy. A universal language.”

  The menacing Zorro was Roy? Cassandra’s jaw dropped. Roy stepped backwards after Schneider, keeping the gun raised. “You’d better keep this quiet. Take the hint this time, bitch. I already know where you live. Better yet, go back to wherever you came from.”

  His hand shifted right, and two shots exploded across the 15-foot distance. Cassandra screamed as glass shattered on a shelf full of beakers. Cassandra and Lance both hit the deck and the breath was knocked from her lungs. She struggled to suck in a full inhale.

  After a few heartbeats of echoed ringing, air filled her lungs again. Luke was crouched under the broken shelf. Lance and Cassandra crawled to him, avoiding glass shards that blanketed every nearby surface. “Luke! Are you hurt?”

  Debris fell from his head like dandruff flakes and a temple gash dripped blood onto his jacket collar. His expression was dazed, but upon checking him over he seemed uninjured. Lance grabbed a paper towel wad for pressure while Cassandra called 911.

  Andy and the sheriff arrived within ten minutes followed later by Meg, Connor, and Fischer. The three witnesses gave their statements to the sheriff. Meg interpreted for Lance and then Fischer dropped him off at the fraternity to meet up with his parents. Cassandra caught a ride home from the O’Briens.

  * * *

  Cassandra emerged from a warm shower wearing her long fleece pajama pants and University of Hawai’i hoodie to find Meg and Connor sitting on her couch sipping hot tea. Meg handed her a mug too, and she collapsed in the big leather armchair Fischer had slept in Friday night.

  Meg beamed proudly. “You and Lance figured it out, Cass. You’re heroes.”

  “We figured it out, but Schneider and Barnett still got away. Heroes don’t let the bad guys escape unscathed.”

  “I’m sorry we didn’t get there earlier. We had to wait for Tony’s sitter to come to the house. I had no idea you were going into such a serious mess.”

  A few minutes later, Connor stood and offered a hand to Meg. “Unless you want us to stick around, it’s time to leave you to rest and tuck my favorite wahine in bed. Andy is parked in your driveway in case there’s more trouble tonight. I bet those two are long gone.”

  After they left, Cassandra felt too wired to go right to sleep. Pulling on shoes and a heavy coat, she went out the back door to bring Andy a travel cup.

  His face lit up when she held up the cup near his driver side window. “Hi Cassandra! I’m wide awake already but thanks for the coffee.”

  “Nah, this is hot chocolate. I put in extra marshmallows. It’s too late for coffee.” She passed it to him.

  “Well in that case, thanks very much. Appreciate the thought. I saw your friends leave and thought you’d go right to sleep.”

  The temperature had already dipped past what she’d expected for overnight in October. She wrapped her arms in front of her chest. “Sorry you’re stuck out here tonight. I hope Dr. Schneider and Zorro are far, far away, but I can’t help worrying they might come back.”

  “There’s statewide and regional bulletins out for them. I promise we’ll keep your house covered until they’re caught.”

  That Roy guy was terrifying. She’d never had a gun pointed at her before. “I hope Luke and Lance are doing ok. I really made a mess of this whole thing. I should have listened to you and stayed home.”

  Andy did a little shrug. “Easy to say now, but at the time you must have had a feeling it was right.”

  Nope. Her brain had known that sneaking into the lab late at night was a bad idea, but she’d done it anyway. She shivered and said, “Thanks again for everything you’ve done. I might not see you again if they fire me.”

  “What you did was impulsive and dangero
us, but you figured out what happened to Austin and with the lab experiments. That has to count for something.”

  She hoped that Nielson and the board would agree with Andy and her friends. She nodded slightly. “I’d better get back inside. Stay warm.”

  “Will do,” he answered, more chipper than she felt. He made a toothy smile, “If you do get fired, we can always move back to Hawai’i, right?”

  He rolled up his window, chuckling while she returned to the house. No idea how she’d explain that one to her mom.

  Chapter Forty

  President Nielson stepped to the media room’s podium and paused in front of the microphones and cameras. For someone who had eschewed publicity the last two weeks, his confident smile came easily.

  Opening his speech papers, he cleared his throat before addressing the staff, invited guests, and reporters gathered for his press conference. “Ladies and gentlemen, as you are surely aware, Morton College has recently focused on relationship building with the global community. During my trip to Hangzhou in the Zhejiang province of China, we built solid connections with the prestigious Hangzhou Commerce College. In the new year, we will host a visit from their administrative team in preparation for a more formal agreement between our institutions. Our students will have increased opportunities to study abroad, and we look forward to welcoming their students here as well.”

  Cassandra, tottering on her highest platform heels and wearing a serious black skirted suit, dutifully flanked Nielson onstage together with Bergstrom. Normally the shoes were strictly for short time periods, and after 90 minutes of coffee-plus-meet-and-greet, they pinched her little toes. She grudgingly admitted she was impressed by Nielson’s accurate pronunciation of the city names. Maybe Nielson had learned something on his trip after all.

  Glancing to the side, she watched Meg interpreting Nielson’s announcement.

  Nielson scanned the small crowd. “Would sophomore Computer Science major, Lance Erickson, come forward please.”

  Cassandra’s smile became more genuine as Lance drew up next to the podium. Then she noticed Fischer standing against the back wall, his arms crossed over his chest, a pleased expression on his handsome face. Since the night in the lab, Cassandra hadn’t even talked to Fischer.

  “Lance played a crucial role in identifying those responsible for the student’s death on campus a couple of weeks ago. In recognition of your bravery and action in difficult circumstances, I present you with a Morton Maples Distinguished Student Award and a $1000 scholarship.” He handed Lance an engraved bronze maple leaf along with an envelope. They shook hands for posed photos while Meg and Cassandra shifted out of the way to give them space.

  “We are grateful to Mr. Erickson as well as the campus security and other staff tasked with keeping our campus a safe learning environment. That’s all I have for you at this time. Thank you for your attention.” Nielson bowed slightly and exited the media room.

  Cassandra, Bergstrom, the other VPs and Meg filed behind him into the private conference room next door. Nielson turned, “Thank you all for your time this morning. Dr. Sato, I’d like to meet you in my office in five minutes.”

  Although willing to accept whatever consequences came from her actions, her heart still skipped a beat. Cassandra whispered to Meg. “What’s that about? He’s already read the police statements. I told him everything I know.”

  Meg shrugged, “Only way to find out is to go talk to him. I’ll tell Fischer he’ll have to wait in line.” She wiggled her eyebrows, and Cassandra rolled her eyes.

  Cassandra discreetly rubbed sore toes while she waited in the wooden armchair facing Nielson’s desk. His gracious award presentation to Lance had been deserved, but there’d been no mention of her name during the media session. Not that she needed public affirmation for doing her job. Her stomach flip-flopped and she regretted the extra coffee burning a hole in her digestive tract. If the board wasn’t satisfied with her version of events, it might be too late to rescind her suspension.

  Nielson entered, closed the door, and quickly sat in his leather chair. His hair had been neatly combed for the press conference and he looked confident in his navy suit. Placing his folded hands on his desk, Nielson’s mouth arranged into an expression between grimace and simper. “I want to tell you again how grateful I am that you figured out what was happening.”

  Was she being let go? He sounded sincere, but not as encouraging as she’d hoped. Cassandra had risked her life for her students and the job. If he wanted more from her, she had nothing else to give. “Thank you. The investigation was very complex. Many people worked to piece it together. Lance Erickson was very dedicated to his friend’s memory.”

  “In light of these developments, I want to amend your contract.”

  If Morton needed a scapegoat, so be it. She’d choose students over career again, given the choice. Her only regret was how long it’d taken to realize what her priority should have been all along. She frowned, “Amend it . . . how?”

  He produced several crisp pages from a file on the credenza and signed the last. “This contract changes your status to permanent employee, effective immediately. You have proven trustworthy to handle all the duties of your position. And more.” Handing her his gold pen, he turned the papers in her direction. “That is . . . if you want to stay in Carson?”

  She’d get to keep her dream job. On her terms. “Permanent . . . Wh- yes! I would like to stay. Thank you for your confidence.” Adding her name under his, she sat up straight. She’d call her parents when she got home later. They’d be thrilled.

  “This press release will be distributed to the media today. Excuse my presumptuousness, but I’d hoped you’d accept my offer.” He handed her a copy of the announcement.

  Cassandra breathed slowly out her nose while she read. “Several years ago, during a strategic planning process, the Board of Directors identified improving diversity on campus as a priority for the students, faculty and Carson community. Our recent hiring of Dr. Cassandra Sato as Vice President for Student Affairs was a key first step in that process. The Morton community cannot thank her enough for her recent crisis management and persistence in holding those in power to the highest standards of integrity. We proudly welcome her as our newest permanent administrator and hope she will continue her career for many years in Carson.”

  Well. She stared at the page extra moments to allow time for her watery eyes to dry.

  Nielson leaned towards her. “This whole business has been scandalous. I’m greatly relieved that the police and faculty senate agree that my personal actions regarding the beef contract were justified. The Hopkins farm will reduce the feed additive concentration to follow daily recommended serving sizes.” His blue eyes scanned the framed awards and memorabilia honoring his academic tenure that lined the walls and bookshelves. “I worked with Arnie Schneider for ten years. I had no idea about his ‘mysterious treatment.’ I’m selecting a task force to make recommendations to enhance transparency and reliability in all our facilities.”

  A knock sounded on his office door and Julie poked her head around the opening. “Sheriff Hart is here for you, sir.”

  “Please send him in.”

  Nielson rose to shake Hart’s hand. “You have further information?”

  Hart remained standing, turning his hat slowly in his hands. “The state patrol pulled over a speeding car in Western Nebraska. The driver shot at the state trooper, who returned fire and killed the driver. The driver had several IDs on him—one was for Roy Barnett—and a black mask. We’re confident that we’ll be able to match the gun to the one used in the lab, and the mask to the video evidence from Ms. Sato’s home. Dr. Arnold Schneider, the passenger, was arrested unharmed and gave an extensive statement. We later interviewed Dr. Baral from the ABG corporate office in Lincoln. He claimed to be unaware of Schneider’s synthetic treatment, and so far, we have no direct proof linking the company and Austin Price’s data. Personally, I believe ABG se
nt Roy Barnett to Carson. There must be evidence linking him to Ms. Sato and the lab accident. We’ll continue our investigation, but I wanted to keep you informed of the current status.”

  Nielson sat back, his shoulders lowered in obvious relief while Cassandra considered the implications. If Schneider quietly confessed his role, the whole sordid situation would disappear soon from the news cycle. Despite everything she’d personally been through—from Morton’s perspective—that would be the best-case scenario.

  Instead of leaving when Sheriff Hart finished his report, he remained silently standing. Clearing his throat, he produced a folded document and said, “Dr. Nielson, I’m also here to give you this.” Laying it on the desk, Hart explained, “It’s a subpoena for details about the contract between Morton College, Brian Hopkins, and the pharmaceutical company.”

  Nielson’s relief vanished and his lips formed a tight line while he opened the papers and skimmed the first page. “Someone complained to the attorney general’s office that illegal student experiments were being conducted on campus.” His knees cracked when he stood and placed his palms on the desk. “That’s simply untrue and you know it, Larry!”

  Hart backed up two steps towards the door. “I’m just the messenger. Of course, I know you wouldn’t be involved in using students as guinea pigs. Those Lincoln bureaucrats got nothing better to do than . . .”

  Cassandra interrupted, “I don’t think that investigation will get very far, Dr. Nielson.” She pulled her cream leather tote bag onto her lap and felt inside at the bottom. When her fingers grasped a thumb drive, she paused long enough to consider the ramifications of sharing the information at this moment. Her gravel road “meeting” with Derek Swanson had been less than 48 hours ago, but felt longer. When he’d given her the thumb drive, she hadn’t been sure how, or even if, she’d use the contents. Now seemed a timely opportunity to show her support for Nielson and the college. She offered the thumb drive to Sheriff Hart. “Once the Omaha news reporter prints his complete expose on Dr. Schneider’s undergraduate transgressions coupled with his financial records, Morton’s beef contract will be cleared.”