Sounds of Murder (13 page)

“Well, it wasn’t me,” snarled Arliss,
“although I congratulate whoever did do it.”

“Arliss!” gasped Pamela.

“Admit it, Pam,” responded Arliss, “No one
liked her.”

“But you don’t kill people just because
they’re unpleasant,” added Joan.

“Stop! Stop!” yelled Mitchell, as the group
erupted into argument. “Who killed Charlotte is not for us to
determine. We have more pressing concerns.”

“What could be more pressing than finding
Charlotte’s killer?” asked Willard.

“Yes,” agreed Laura, “None of us are safe
until the killer is found.”

“I disagree,” stated Mitchell, to the
consternation of the group. “I don’t know who killed Charlotte, but
it was obviously for an unknown and very specific reason. As far as
I know, I haven’t antagonized any of you to the point that any of
you wish me dead—at least I don’t think I have. Therefore, I’m
really not afraid. That doesn’t mean I won’t be cautious. And I
suggest you all be especially cautious too. For one thing, I
suggest none of us use the lab late at night—particularly alone.
Actually, I suggest none of us work alone in the building after
hours at all. If we take these simple precautions and use common
sense we should all be fine. At least, until the police make an
arrest. Can we all agree to take these precautions?”

The group looked around at each other and all
mumbled their agreement.

“What about Charlotte?” asked Joan. “Has
anyone thought at all about her or is the purpose of this meeting
merely to protect ourselves?”

“Actually,” continued Marks, “That’s the
second reason I called this meeting. I have contacted Charlotte’s
next of kin…”

“She had relatives?” asked Bob.

“They probably all disowned her,” added
Arliss.

“She had a younger sister,” continued
Mitchell, ignoring Arliss. “They were evidently estranged—although
she was Charlotte’s sole heir and receives the bulk of her estate
after several magnanimous gifts to Grace University. Anyway, the
sister has been contacted by the administration and she is taking
care of funeral arrangements which will be private at the sister’s
home in Ohio. Therefore, we will not need to attend. However, that
does not mean that we should do nothing. Charlotte was the major
financial bastion of this department and probably of this
university. We must honor her in some way. I have decided that we
will hold a memorial service for her in the campus chapel. We will
invite the sister, although I doubt she’ll come. We, of course,
will all attend.” Mitchell said this last comment with a stern
voice and a piercing look at each individual faculty member.

“When are you planning to hold this memorial,
Mitchell?” questioned Pamela.

“As soon as possible,” he replied. “Jane
Marie is trying to reserve the chapel for the next day or so. We
will keep you all informed and I expect you to clear your schedules
so you can attend, and encourage your students to attend too. We
owe this much to Charlotte. We may not have liked her—but we all
certainly liked what she did for us and for this university.”

The group sat in silence. They couldn’t argue
with the truth.

“Are there any other concerns that relate to
Charlotte?” He looked around.

Arliss rose and said, “I’d like to discuss
funding for the animal lab.”

“Concerns that relate to Charlotte,” repeated
Mitchell, staring directly at Arliss who sat back down quickly,
glaring at Mitchell and breathing audibly.

“If not, this meeting is adjourned.” He bowed
his head briefly, almost as if he were offering a benediction, and
then exited quickly.

Chapter 12

"Dr.Barnes! Dr. Barnes!" the student
repeated. Pamela snapped out of her reverie and was drawn back into
her classroom. She was leaning against her desk at the front of the
small classroom on the second floor. It was Thursday morning, not
long after the sunrise faculty meeting, and she was trying to
lecture to her undergraduate research class, but not having much
success.

"Now," she said, "where was I?" She grabbed
her coffee cup and took a quick sip. This was a teacher’s trick she
used to give herself a moment to gather her thoughts--thoughts that
were roaming far from the class discussion today.

"Dr. Barnes," said the girl, with increased
emphasis, "you were talking about human subjects." The young woman
smiled self-righteously as she looked around the room.

"Yes," said Pamela, "now, being as how we
psychologists conduct our research primarily on human beings…. I
know, I know, Dr. Goodman would include all those animals too. But,
for the most part, psychologists deal with humans and when we
gather data we collect it from humans. That presents us with
certain problems that other scientists don't have to deal with,
right?" She looked around the room expectantly. Several hands
rose.

"You have to be really careful with people,"
said one young man.

"That’s true, Michael," responded Pamela,
"how so?"

"You can’t do anything to humans without
their consent," added a girl, seated close to Michael.

"You mean," posed Pamela, "that if I got
someone's consent I could do anything I wanted?"

"No,” continued Michael, the ball now in his
corner, "psychologists can't just go out and start conducting
experiments on people because they want to."

"They can't?" exclaimed Pamela.

"No," added the girl, "psychologists have to
get permission before they do an experiment." She nodded, satisfied
with her answer.

"Permission from whom?" questioned Pamela,
smiling, "The government? The head of their department? Their
parents?"

The class giggled and looked around. No hands
were raised. Most students now focused on their desktops. Pamela
recognized the "I don't have a clue what the answer is" stare.

"Where do you think they should get
permission," she suggested.

"The police," said one of her smart-alecks by
the window. The entire class laughed. Pamela, however, was
immediately drawn back to her personal thoughts. The last thing
she’d told her husband before they went to bed last night was that
she’d take the CD of Charlotte's murder to the police first thing
this morning before the 7 a.m. meeting, but she hadn't done so. It
was still in her purse in her office. True, she’d planned to do
it—she’d even driven towards Police Headquarters on her way to
work, but then, she’d suddenly changed her mind--she didn't know
why--and backtracked to campus.

Now, here she was in her Thursday morning
class feeling guilty that she hadn’t kept her word to Rocky and
wondering what she should do about it. She knew she must take the
disk to the police, but she was procrastinating and she didn't know
why.

"Dr. Barnes," whined the same girl who’d
interrupted Pamela’s daydreaming earlier. "Dr. Barnes, what should
we do?"

"What?" asked Pamela, suddenly confused. It
was almost as if the student was privy to her thoughts and was
asking her what she was going to do about the CD.

"Dr. Barnes," said the girl, "you don't seem
like yourself today."

"No, Dr. Barnes," agreed another student near
the front. "Maybe you're having a delayed reaction to Dr. Clark's
death."

Delayed reaction, oh my, Pamela thought.
Students never failed to toss in some tidbit of knowledge they’d
picked up in one of their other classes.

"Dr. Barnes," said another, "maybe you should
go home and get some rest. You look a little drained."

For heaven's sake, Pamela smiled to herself;
she'd better pull it together. "I'm just fine," she said. "Now,
what I think you’re looking for is The Human Subjects' Committee.
Every large research university has one and it’s devoted to
reviewing any proposed research that involves humans. We have one
here at Grace University. The Human Subjects’ Committee is somewhat
like an enforced conscience for researchers. It ensures that all
research is ethical. What do you think about that?"

"I think it's really important," said one
young woman, "because you sometimes hear about scientists who are
more concerned with their studies than with the people
involved."

"Right," agreed another girl, "just because a
person is a scientist doesn't mean that they’re automatically
ethical."

Pamela nodded. Just because a person is a
scientist doesn't mean they’re automatically ethical, she thought,
nor does it mean they automatically know what the ethical thing to
do is in any particular situation. She bit her lip. She should just
hop in her car and take the CD to Shoop right now and be over with
it.

"All right," she said to the group, "Let's
see if you’ve read this chapter on research ethics. Get in your
discussion groups and work on the problems on page 246 in your
textbook. You can have the rest of the class period to do it and
when you’ve answered all the questions, bring your written
responses to me before you leave." The students began moving their
desks around into small groups of four or five and were soon
talking quietly among themselves.

Pamela returned to the chair behind her desk
and continued sipping her coffee. She peered out the classroom
window onto the campus grounds. It was a beautiful fall day--the
first day of November. From here, she could see Meer Hall, the
biology building and Drucker Hall, the math building. Beyond
Drucker, was Silverton Hall, the English building, where her
husband worked. She could hear students walking on the sidewalks
below, chatting and enjoying the crisp air. The gruesome events of
two days ago appeared far from their thoughts.

She thought of the CD she played last night
on her home computer screen and how the wave form of the recorded
sound appeared in the sound analysis program. It was the familiar
soft curve of human vocal sound, but there were non-human noises
there too. What were they? She really needed to listen to it again.
Maybe she could figure out what the sounds were and somehow figure
out who the killer was. Maybe Charlotte's choking sounds contained
some information--she didn't know what--but something that might
provide some information. She wanted to know, to help. But she’d
promised Rocky that she’d take the CD to the police today--first
thing. And she hadn't. She’d lied--well, not exactly lied. She
intended to take it to the police, but she couldn't--she just
couldn't.

When the students started to collect their
books and put them in their backpacks--always a sign that class was
nearing its official end, she checked her watch. The groups started
coming up and showing her their work. Virtually all groups had
answered the questions correctly. She smiled. She may have been off
in dreamland, but the lesson of the day had penetrated.

Saying her farewells to her students, she
grabbed her belongings, and headed down the hallway to her office.
As she rounded the corner, she spotted Willard in Joan's office
chatting amiably. A wave at her two friends and she continued on.
After she entered her office and had made herself comfortable at
her desk, her phone rang.

"Dr. Barnes," sang Jane Marie, "Are you up to
no good?" Pamela was briefly startled because, unbeknownst to Jane
Marie, no good was obviously what Pamela was up to.

"No," she replied, "I'm just sitting here.
Thought I'd eat lunch."

"If you'd like some juicy news," said Jane
Marie, in her lowest gossipy voice, "I think I may have found out
who the woman in the photograph is--you know, the one that Dr.
Clark put in Dr. Marks's mailbox before she was murdered."

"Who?" asked Pamela.

"I did some snooping," she whispered. "I
found her photograph in a yearbook from about ten years back."

"You mean she's a student?" cried Pamela.

"It appears so—or was," said Jane Marie, "Her
name is Evelyn Carrier. Does that ring a bell?"

"No," replied Pamela, "I've never heard of
her. Why would Charlotte put some former student's photo in
Mitchell's mailbox with no note or anything? It's weird."

"Particularly when she's murdered the next
day," said Jane Marie.

"Jane Marie," said Pamela, "a question. Did
you happen to mention to Detective Shoop about this
photograph?"

"No," said Jane Marie, "I figured I'd leave
that for Dr. Marks to do. He has the photo--or rather it's on his
desk. I don't know if he did or didn't tell Shoop. Do you?"

"No," said Pamela. "Shoop is closed mouthed
just like Mitchell. He asks questions, but he surely doesn't offer
much information."

"That's for sure," responded Jane Marie.

"Listen," suggested Pamela, "I'm not saying
we intentionally try to get Mitchell in hot water, but if Shoop
doesn't know about the photo--or about the fight between Mitchell
and Charlotte--don't you think someone should tell him?"

"You mean me?" asked Jane Marie, horrified.
"I value my job."

"Hmmm," said Pamela, thoughtfully, "Oh, don't
worry; I understand if you don't want to get involved, but I think
Shoop ought to know. Listen, Jane Marie, please don't say anything
about this discussion to Mitchell."

"Don't worry," the secretary replied, "I
won't. Bye." Pamela hung up as she heard Jane Marie's receiver
click off.

Why hadn't she told Shoop about the fight or
the photograph? Maybe she’d gotten so worked up about listening to
the CD that she wasn't even thinking about any other potentially
important information related to the murder. This, she resolved,
was not behaving responsibly--or ethically. She decided she’d do
what she’d promised her husband she would--not only that—she’d fill
Shoop in on these other tidbits that may or may not be related to
Charlotte Clark's murder. It was the least she could do. She was an
ethical person, after all.

Chapter 13