Angel Food and Devil Dogs (17 page)

"You're presuming what happened in the conference room was deliberate, Dr. Knightbridge?"

"Was it not? Ms. Gale, I don't know what the police are choosing to do, but surely you are perceptive enough to see it as more than a coincidence, especially now, after Skylar." She stared at me for a long moment, then said, "This is a complicated problem. Creative thought is needed." It sounded like something my mother would have said.

Amanda Knightbridge continued, "I was just on the phone with Miranda Juarez regarding Bart and Georgia's condition. I'm relieved that the doctors believe they both will recover."

"How did Georgia get along with Carl Rasmus?"

"She worked on a grant project with him. She also helped him set up some of his computer programs. She cared about him as a friend, I believe, and she was hurt... no, maybe it would be more accurate to say she was
confused
by Carl's irrational behavior."

"Irrational because he acted in an angry way? Or because he was rude?"

"We can all be rude..." she thought for a minute, "have you noticed that since the advent of email, people get into disagreements much more quickly? The time it takes to write and send a real letter tends to dilute rudeness, speaking on the phone allows compensation for emotion, but rapid email is too easy, too remote, a medium loaded with opportunities for miscommunication," she went on, "it was Carl's anger that was irrational. He seemed to be a very nice young man. A little unsure and perhaps too trusting at times, but a good person and a sound teacher. Then suddenly he seemed to have huge sweeping mood swings. Sweet one moment, then hateful. As though he had two separate personalities in conflict."

"Can you give me an example?"

"Yes... one day, Carl and I had coffee and talked about a National Public Radio presentation that we had both heard. Everything seemed fine with him. However, when I got back here, there was an email from him saying he felt I had been patronizing him because he was blind and it went on to say curtly he wished not to speak with me ever again. I was shocked. So I called him in his office. I asked him to explain his email; he asked me why I was concerned. He sounded sad and depressed and I think also confused. He told me he had other things to do and then hung up on me. That was just a day or two before he died. I think..." she paused considering, then shook her head.

"What? What do you think?

"I'm not sure exactly what I think about it all. Let me consider it further. Are there other things you wish to ask me?"

"Did you see him on the day he died?"

"No, I didn't."

"Where were you at the time?"

"Where was I?" She gazed at me with piercing gray eyes, then nodded once, "ah yes, I see. Let me check." She got up to refer to the date book on her desk. "I was in this office all day until 5:00 PM. My secretary was here for most of the day as well. She goes to lunch at 1:00 PM and comes back at about 2:00 PM."

Which meant Amanda Knightbridge didn't have an alibi for Carl Rasmus's death. Changing the subject I asked, "Do you think someone may have been angry enough at Bart Edgar to plan to kill him?

"Kill Bart? Because he is incompetent? No, probably not. There are many incompetent people in the world. Have you read any of the Dilbert comics by Scott Adams? They stem from genuine stories about incompetent people in offices. Everyone knows someone like that. Unfortunately, incompetent people are not rare, but, Ms. Gale, I don't think Carl's death could have much to do with Georgia and certainly nothing to do with Bart."

I pulled my laptop from my bag and opened it, scanning the information I'd collected so far. "During the meeting in the conference room, what kind of beverage did you have?"

"Eve's Apple Juice. I like the small bottles."

"What do you remember about people getting their drinks?"

A very serious look came over her face. Perhaps she understood the implications and now she was replaying the scene in her mind. She took a deep breath. "Well... I couldn't see everything because in most instances their bodies hid the table, but... Lina Roth took a very long time pouring her bottle of ginger ale into the glass. Jimmy Harmon also took a long time. Skylar spent some time finding his selection and then got a glass and ice cubes. Leo was standing behind him waiting and he became impatient because Skylar was taking so long. Leo didn't take as long, he popped his soda can open on the way back to his seat. At that point Daniel and Georgia came in and the President started the meeting. One more thing, I remember the odor of petroleum."

"A strong smell?" I asked with interest.

"No, just a whiff. Frankly, Jimmy Harmon was drinking a grape soda. I dislike that strong synthetic grape smell. There were other odors too that masked the petroleum smell, but it was there."

"Other odors?" I tried to remember the other smells.

"The cookies, coffee brewing in the outer office, someone's cologne, I would have sworn I noticed Kathryn Anthony's perfume in the hallway..."

This woman was good, we never got a witnesses like her when I was a cop. Her opinions made sense too, I asked, "What did you think of Carl's suicide note?"

"Quite simply, I do not believe he wrote it."

"You seem quite sure."

"The things said in the note were stupid. Carl was not a stupid man. The thirty-year-old myth about homosexuals being murdered by homosexuals. Carl was a scholar. He based his opinions on facts and research not antiquated rhetoric."

"There are some people who do hate themselves because they're gay."

"Educated young people, who do not have religious pressures and overbearing parents, rarely develop these deep hatreds of themselves these days," she said dismissively.

"So how do you explain how the suicide note got onto Carl's computer when he had a closed system?"

"I cannot explain it, but its existence is a puzzle, not a fact.
You
must figure it out."

I was a bit startled by her insistent tone. She was nodding at me. I went on, "May I ask, Dr. Knightbridge, where you were earlier today?"

"When you called to say you were not coming at 11:00 AM, I joined Kathryn Anthony's morning seminar. We went from there to lunch at the Student Union, at about one o'clock. I sat with Kathryn and some students. I left to come back here at about 1:45."

"Do you have a car?"

"Well, I suppose one could say I have. It's a Volkswagen Beetle. Not the new kind, it's many decades old. It's in my garage, but I haven't driven it for several years."

The seminar was a good alibi, it also alibied Kathryn. If Dr. Amanda Knightbridge was telling the truth, and it would be easy to check, she seemed to be cleared. At least regarding Skylar Carvelle's murder.

She leaned forward, "May I ask
you
some things?

"Yes, but I may not be able to answer."

"Have you spoken with Kathryn Anthony?"

"You mean about the explosion and Carl's death?"

"No, I mean in general."

"Yes, I've spoken with her... in general."

"Do you feel she is attractive?"

"Huh?" I said stunned.

"Are you attracted to her? Personally?"

"Why do you feel you need to know that, Dr. Knightbridge?"

"Ah, well... I think you would complement each other," she said as though she had simply suggested a wine to have with dinner.

As I walked down College Street, my mind wandered to Amanda Knightbridge's suggestion that Kathryn and I would complement each other. Maybe I could spin control my unpunctual behavior by getting Dr. Knightbridge to call Kathryn and tell
her
that.

Instead, I called Jimmy Harmon's office. His secretary told me Professor Harmon was in the recording studio and that he planned to be there all night. Good, I'd go to the Music History Building as soon as I made a few other calls.

The hospital told me that Bart Edgar had been discharged. Georgia Smith was still in very serious condition. She could have visitors if her family agreed, but only for very short periods.

I also called the dorm number for Mike Jacobsen the student who'd been recording music just before Carl died. He said I could come and see him anytime tonight.

First things first. I headed directly to the Music History Building. Instead of taking the elevator, I walked quietly up the stairs. I didn't want Jimmy Harmon yelling at me when the elevator noise screwed up his recording session. When I got to the second floor, there were five musicians packing up their guitars, fiddles, and music and pulling on their coats.

Jimmy came out of the recording booth saying distractedly, "That was great everybody, I think we're all done for today." Harmon stared through me for a minute then turned his back and headed back to Jack in the booth.

"Jimmy, I'm not leaving until we talk," I said sternly, "so turn off whatever part of your brain is concentrating on doing something else and listen to me."

His shoulders slumped. "OK," he said resignedly, "just let me tell Jack he can leave." When Jimmy came back, we each took a chair in the empty circle.

Jimmy Harmon had opportunity: he was at the meeting and could have put the bottle on the table, he was in Skylar Carvelle's office where he was able to overhear that I was on my way to Carvelle's condo. He also had some level of motive: he had a hell of a temper and had almost hit both Carl and Bart. So I might be talking to the killer in a deserted building all by myself. I should have been more concerned, but the thing was, I liked him. He seemed like a nice guy. On the other hand, what do I know from guys? Kathryn Anthony's voice rang in my mind... "Trust no one."

"What did you want to see Skylar Carvelle about this morning?"

"Huh, oh God, um... he had some projections of next year's enrollment..." Harmon's voice trailed off.

"Jimmy, where did you go after Skylar's office this morning?" I asked sharply.

"Oh geez. I drove home. My kids were in school. Linda was out. Skylar's dead... I don't have an alibi, go ahead, and type my name at the top of the list."

I did.

"How about when Carl died?"

"I was in my office on the fourth floor of this building listening to a series of recordings with headphones. When I have the headphones on, I can't hear a damn thing. Even though the police and rescue workers were swarming all over this building, I didn't know Carl was dead until late in the day."

I watched him carefully as he spoke, his red hair seemed limp and he sniffed, like he had the tail end of a cold. I asked, "What did you drink at the meeting in the conference room?"

"What?" he said looking up. He seemed disoriented.

"Your drink at the meeting, what was it?"

"OK, look," he hesitated. "There's... I..." He stopped and slapped his forehead, then started again, "See how my nose is running?" He pointed at his nose, in case I didn't know where it was, then he took out a purple handkerchief and blew, making a honking noise that would have impressed Harpo Marx.

I nodded. I figured he was about to admit to cocaine.

But he said, "I have terrible allergies. My nose runs constantly even at this time of year. In the spring and fall I'm miserable. A few months ago, my allergy doctor gave me a new prescription medication for pollen, animal hair, dust, mold allergies... it was supposed to cover everything. I went along with her because I really needed some relief." He sniffed, then blew his nose again. It looked red and sore.

"So?"

"It worked great but... serious side effects. Made me forget stuff and cranky. More than cranky. Edgy, quick to fly off the handle. You probably heard about me and Bart, I almost hit that asshole. How could anyone be as incompetent as that guy? But it was my fault too. I should have double-checked the invitations. The medication was making me forget everything. Hey, normally I would never have assigned an important task to Bart. Why take the risk when there are a dozen other people who would have done it right?"

I didn't say anything. He was looking at the floor, talking more to himself than to me.

"The same kinda thing happened between me and Carl. He came in during a recording session. The noise ruined the take. I got so mad I almost... I almost hit a blind man just because he'd opened his door." Jimmy Harmon was shaking his head. There were tears in his eyes.

"Didn't you realize you were over the edge then?"

He looked up and nodded. "I finally told my wife what I'd done and she said I'd been acting strangely ever since the new allergy medication. So I called my doctor and she said she'd just gotten a bulletin that day cautioning physicians on the side effects of this medication. So I stopped taking it. My nose started running right away, but I felt in a fog for days, still do."

"Who's the doctor? I want to speak to her."

"Call her now," he said immediately. He looked at his watch. "She has evening appointments on Thursdays."

He gave me the number from his cell and I called. The doctor named the meds and apologized to Jimmy again. She even gave me a web site to check all the information. It all sounded legit to me. Jimmy Harmon seemed remorseful about his behavior, but so what if it was the drugs that made him into an angry kook. Angry kooks may be more likely to be killers than average guys.

"So, back to the soda at the conference room, are you saying you don't remember what you had?" I asked.

"No, I couldn't remember what I was
supposed
to have. I thought I'd ordered Yoohoo. I could have sworn... but there wasn't any Yoohoo on the table. My brain felt so fuzzy. Then I saw the Grape Nehi. Real Americana. You know... every GI from Gomer to Radar? So I chose it. Nobody said, 'Hey, that's my Nehi!' So I took it back to my seat. Amanda said it was foul smelling and I thought so too. I didn't drink much."

"Before and after you were getting your drink, did you notice anyone acting strangely while they were getting theirs?"

"You mean other than me?" He laughed sardonically, wiping his nose on his handkerchief, "Um, honestly I was so hopped up, I wouldn't even drive my car. I called my wife to come and get me. Let's see, other people... no, I can't think of anything. Oh, wait; Skylar had a funny look on his face. Rolina Roth took forever to pour hers... she's always like that. Maybe that was my imagination."