CHAPTER EIGHT
Essex on an early morning in October had reached its pinnacle of picturesque resplendence. A light frost the night before left a sparkling rime on asters and goldenrods of the river meadows. The snake like path that followed the banks of the Essex River was speckled with golden leaves from overhanging hardwoods, and spattered occasionally with purple Rorschach blots from fallen wild grapes. Janet eyed the ripening bunches of the latter as she jogged beneath, and speculated on the vintage that might be obtained from them. Perhaps she should consult with her expert colleague, Bob Hayes, the wine maker, in the ways of fermentation before the crop became totally mangled underfoot and pressed to waste among the maple leaves.
The trail was deserted that morning, at least as far as she could see. Slanting sunbeams slashed through the canopy in places lighting the chrome yellow tracery and casting long shadows among the tangle of vines and shrubby willows. From time to time as she ran along the bank Janet caught glimpses, of the sluggish river down below. At this point, quite near the spot where she had slipped on the verge, the water lay far beneath her feet; the steep clay cliffs were eroded and undercut. Some washed-out trees-staggered halfway down the slope, their gnarled roots exposed and bare. Though the path was fairly firm this morning there still were slippery low spots between obtruding rootlets, patches of dead leaves, and the occasional trailing grapevine. A spot of unpredictable footing she surmised, and modified her pace and stride to bypass some of these treacherous snares and pitfalls.
It was at this moment near the highest promontory on this stretch of the bank, as she slowed for a sharply angled turn beside a small washout that she first observed the body. Almost at the water's edge, wedged awkwardly amongst a web of tree-roots, was a sprawled figure in a jogging suit. As she halted fixed by astonishment, the figure moved slightly, a twitching protest to its predicament and a weak moan was just audible. Janet threw caution aside and scrambled down the cliff.
"Tripped--- me--- in the bushes--- tripped," he muttered distraughtly.
"Don't try to move," said Janet while she attempted to assess the extent of his injuries. She removed her own sweatsuit top and rolled it gently under his head as a cushion. "Just stay as you are" He nodded bleakly and his eyes showed a flicker of recognition, then screwed shut in anguish. "I’ll hurry and get some help," she promised and tore back up the bank.
A series of nightmarish thoughts and images flashed through Janet's mind's eye as she sped back along the deserted trail. The distorted attitude of the fallen figure, the faintly audible voice, and above all, the blank despairing stare of his eyes presaged some grievous injury. Which was the shortest way back? She cut across a field to the main campus road where there was usually heavy traffic. Who was the best person to contact? She quickened her pace and headed for the nearest building. How was she going to contact his family? She found a door open and searched for a janitor or a phone. How would the news headline appear? ‘Acting-Principal Breaks Back in Campus Fall.’
The trek back, with delays to meet the ambulance, seemed interminable. Crossing the field and negotiating the rough trail was not in the line of usual duty for the two ambulance attendants. They were both puffing, and lagged well behind Janet as she pressed onward. At about the half-way point she encountered Archie, also attired for jogging, and puffing also although in better fettle than the ambulance men.
"Well, "he smiled, "shall we jog back together?" Then a moment later his smile turned to a frown as the two ambulance attendants appeared with a stretcher. "What's the problem?"
"It's Mr. Nicholas," said Janet hurriedly. "He's in bad shape. Maybe you can give us a hand," and she pressed on with Archie following.
"Has he had another heart attack then? Funny I didn't see him. Is he not on the trail?"
"I don’t know about his heart. Remember I told you how I had slipped off the trail?" Archie nodded. Well he’s done the same apparently, but in a much worse spot. Here, it's just around this bend. You couldn't have noticed coming from the other direction."
At this point they could now make out the curled-up form below. It looked as though Jackson Nicholas had not taken Janet's advice. Indeed he had moved from the spot where she had left him several metres further down the slope while she was gone. He had rolled on his side, clear of the roots. What's more an ugly red gash she had not noticed before marked the base of his skull. By the time she reached the bottom of the cliff, Janet realized that she need not have exhorted the attendants to rush. Jackson Nicholas was now motionless and beyond help: the rat was dead.
The effect of this upon Archie was really quite remarkable and unexpected. She realized that he had known the Acting-Principal slightly before their get-together at the Nicholas house. Yet she was unprepared for his almost hysterical reaction which bordered on panic.
"Oh-my-god," he repeated in a sing-song mantra, agitatedly rubbing his hands together, while Janet and the attendants from the ambulance tried vainly to detect or evoke signs of life from the corpse. Archie was virtually useless in helping to move the body, dazedly rejoining Janet on the trail as the two men bore their pitiable load back to the waiting ambulance.
"You knew him pretty well then?" she asked.
"No, no," replied Archie quickly. "It's just such a shock. He is dead is he?"
Janet nodded grimly. "I knew he had hurt himself badly, probably spinal damage. But I didn't notice the head injury when I found him at first. He must have been much worse than I thought. Then he tried to move, fell further down the bank. Perhaps I should have stayed with him, but I didn't know how long I might have to wait until somebody chanced along."
Archie followed mutely in the cortege, behind the stretcher-bearers and Janet. By the time they reached the ambulance which was parked near the field he had regained some of his composure.
"It's going to be dreadfully hard for the family," he said thoughtfully as they walked back to the campus. "Had you worked out how you were going to handle it?"
"Well," replied Janet, "I suppose I should try to contact Judy first. At this hour there should be someone at home."
"I have my car. Why not the two of us drive out there. I can’t imagine just phoning up."
Janet agreed readily to the suggestion, and they changed and set out for the home of the Acting-Principal. Somehow it would have seemed easier had it been raining dismally, or even overcast with clouds. But the morning was fulfilling its earlier promise, of perfection with a backdrop of clear brilliant cerulean for the amber of changing leaves. Janet felt a warm contentment in spite of the grim purpose of their visit. As she looked across at the troubled countenance of her companion, she was deeply grateful for his sensitivity and support at this trying moment.
By the time Janet returned to the Department it was late in the morning. She quickly checked up on activities in her lab and walked down to the office. Professor Antwhistle ushered her in and closed the door.
"So you've heard the news?"
The Professor nodded vigorously. "Dean Owens called about a half hour ago. I gather you had to break it to the widow. How did she take it?"
Janet described the tearful scene at the Nicholas household, and how helpful Archie had been in consoling Judy. Her mother had seemed to recover fairly quickly from the initial shock.
"No-one should have been astounded. Silly duffer! You would think that one warning would be enough. A foolish activity if you ask me," he went on, warming to the subject. "Running befits only the hunter or the hunted-- in short a mode of instant survival in a life-threatening situation. The voluntary act of running establishes a life threatening situation where none existed!"
Janet smiled but made no attempt to respond to this tirade. She had heard the Professor before on the evils of exercise, and knew that any self-defence would only prolong the debate, with little doubt about the outcome.
"In a sense you’re correct in your assumption," she replied, "although I would hazard a guess that his fatal injury was a result of his fall rather than a cause," an
d she related the circumstances surrounding her discovery of the Acting-Principal.
"Whatever the cause, it has surely simplified the work of our selection committee," sighed the Professor. "I trust we don’t have to follow a similar mechanism for the other extra candidates on our short list. Perhaps that's why the Dean sounded so shaken on the telephone," he mused.
"It would seem to give the Dean a pretty clear shot at the job. Though no man would hope to profit from another's tragedy with a completely glad heart."
"Well, not openly at least," said John Antwhistle. "By the way you seem to have a penchant for falling bodies recently. I hope you're not going to suffer nightmares over this!"
Later, as she sat quietly at her own desk and tried to concentrate upon a paper she had been sent for review, Janet pondered the Professor's last remarks. As in the previous case where she had found the broken remains of a colleague, there were haunting memories and images that recurred and interrupted her train of thought. Whether she had nightmares or not Janet realized that her mind would be plagued by disturbing dreams enough during the waking daytime.
After a couple of hours of futile endeavour, first at her desk, then in the lab, Janet decided that she was incapable of rational decisions in her present state, and she cancelled the afternoon tennis practice in deference to Judy, and went home. In her distracted condition she was fortunate to get there intact; twice she nearly ran her bike into the lane of traffic. She was also fortunate to find her landlady waiting. Kay quickly summed up the situation and within minutes the two women were seated on the side-lawn with well-charged martini glasses. The late-afternoon sun beamed mellowly through the gigantic yellow leaves of the overhanging maples. For a long moment there was no sound except the rustling of the light breeze through the canopy above, and the gentle tinkle of ice in the glasses. Finally Janet's shoulders relaxed perceptibly and her landlady opened the conversation.
"It must have been a terribly upsetting experience for you. Like the last time."
"And like the last time, perplexing as well as upsetting," and Janet related the sequence of events leading up to discovery of the Acting-Principal’s body.
"Of course, he wasn't likely to have survived the fall was he?"
"I don't know," mused Janet. "He certainly seemed to be in a lot of pain, or perhaps anguish would be a. better term. It was something the Professor fortuitously, and semi-facetiously, said about running that put it in my mind: he had the look of a hunted animal, wounded in the chase. It was fear and desperation as much as pain that I seemed to sense."
"You mentioned his last words."
"Some confused mumbling about tripping in the bushes, which was absurd because no-one in his right mind would have been running through the bushes!"
"Perhaps he got detoured off the trail and then tripped."
Janet shook her head. "If only I could recall exactly what he said. It was obviously a great effort for him to say anything at all at that stage. So it must have seemed important, very important to him." She took a hefty swig from the glass and furrowed her brow in an effort to remember, but the words would not come to her.
"He seemed to think that this running business was quite important also," said Kay breaking into her reverie, "like someone else I know."
"Oh please, don't lecture me about it," moaned Janet in mock pain. "I've already been cautioned once today by a man who is -- 'conserving his energy to carry my coffin', as Professor A so quaintly puts it. But you're right," she went on, "Mr. Nicholas was on a heavy training schedule. He apparently intended to enter the Sky-way Marathon next month, much to the horrified disapproval of his wife. According to Judy he had been doing an early AM 15 kilometre run religiously every day along the river trail. He was such a fiercely competitive person. I don't think either one of them was greatly surprised to hear he had collapsed They both assumed he had been overexerting himself, pushing beyond the limits."
"But you're not convinced about that explanation?"
"It's a possibility. It's also possible that he could have simply slipped. I'm not sure. Then I could be imagining things, I suppose," Janet responded carefully, "but first, it doesn't make sense to accept that he tripped going through the bushes. They were on the opposite side of the path, away from the river-bank; second, why did he give that impression of being prey to the hunter?" She virtually drained the glass and reclined her head back on the chaise.
"Just relax a bit and try to forget about it for 15 minutes," said Kay getting up. "I'll rustle us up a bit of supper and we can talk some more about it at the table."
Janet protested weakly, but in the end finished her drink, leaned back in the soft autumnal glow and dozed. But despite Kay's advice, or perhaps because of it, her subconscious mind continued to nibble away at the inconsistencies, and unanswered questions. Why had she seen no obvious skid marks at the top of the cliff where Jackson Nicholas fell to his demise? There weren't even any obvious muddy or slippery bits on that section of the trail as far as she could recall. It was almost as though the Acting-Principal had vaulted or been pushed over the edge. If so, who was to profit most? Surely not the Dean. It was inconceivable to picture him as an agent in the case. Somebody in the Dean's camp who wanted the opposition out of the way? It was hard to see that as motivation enough to take the risks involved. And who besides had the opportunity to pursue the prey at the pace set by such a competitive runner? Surely not Archie, who seemed to be the only other soul in sight that morning. He couldn't have kept up to Nicholas, let alone overtaken him in pursuit. Besides, it was ludicrous to suspect Archie of violent thoughts or actions. He was so sensitive and gentle, for example, in his way of handling Judy and her mother in their distress. Yet there was indeed something strange in Archie's first reactions at the scene of the 'crime'.
"Supper," called Kay, interrupting her reverie. The meal, a sumptuous chicken-pot-pie, assuaged Janet's frazzled state of mind .
"Have you come to some conclusions then about what happened?" asked Kay as they finished the savoury dish .
"Well, "Janet answered hesitantly, "I think I'll reserve judgement on it until I've had a chance to discuss it with Archie. He may have noticed something that I didn't. After all, he came along the trail apparently in the same direction as Mr. Nicholas, whereas I must have approached it from the opposite end. First of all though I have to go back into the lab and carry out the next steps in the fractionation."
"Again?" asked Kay disapprovingly. She knew from past experience that these evening experiments could run into the small hours of the morning. "Can't you organize that girl, Julia, to run these things for you in daylight hours? I don't really like you cycling around after dark anyway," she fussed. "Won't you take my car at least?"
"Thanks awfully, but there's something I want to check out and I think it will be easier by bike. I don't expect to be terribly late. But you won't wait up?"
"Not past eleven. Get back by then and we'll have some tea.
"I'll try Janet promised, setting off on her bicycle. By crossing the bridge and turning sharply on the opposite side she could come out on the river trail just a kilometre upstream of the spot where Jackson Nicholas had fallen. The sun was slanting through the trees as it had been that morning early, but from the opposite side now. How different and serene the bank looked coming at it from this direction. Janet cycled a short way before the trail became rough and she had to dismount, leaving her bike propped up against a tree. As she came upon the site where the Acting-Principal had mis-stepped, she could see the sharp bend in the path ahead, the patch of bushes on her right. First, she examined the top of the cliff again confirming her suspicion of a lack of skid marks. The ground was still damp, the earth soft, and numerous footprints were obvious along the muddy path and down the cliffside where she had climbed earlier with Archie and the ambulance men. She carefully cast about in the bushes. Light was failing now as the sun dipped lower, but nonetheless after several minutes of searching she found exactly what she had been l
ooking for. Her heart pounding with excitement over the discovery. Janet hurried back to her bicycle and sped up to the campus in the dying light of sunset. Quickly she checked her column fractionation running reliably through the automatic collector in the cold room and verified that there was nearly an hour to go till the end of the run.
She rushed to her office telephone to contact Archie. "Drat!" she said as the phone rang distantly, unheeded. She let it ring five, ten times both in his office and at home, then gave up and set down the receiver. She thought of calling Bob Hayes, but felt it would require too much explanation. Walking down the corridor deep in thought Janet noted a light emanating from the office of John Antwhistle. She knocked on his door and was admitted to a scene of unbelievable chaos. To the usual teetering piles of reprints, reports, file-folders and correspondence, was added a conglomerate of opened books and journals overflowing from the desk to the counter behind. Pacing between desk and counter the Professor distractedly made a few notes on a pad he was holding while gesturing Janet to sit down. After a minute or two he stopped writing, dropped the pad and joined her on the other side of the desk.
"Thank you for rescuing me! "he exclaimed wearily removing his spectacles. "This wretched article will be the death of me. Speaking of death and dying, what news if any of our recent dear departed? I hope it isn’t preying unduly on your mind."
"Actually, it has led me to think about it in a different light," said Janet taking the plunge, and she proceeded to tell him of her thoughts and her recent investigations at the scene.
"Which she concluded, "might prove whether we should speak of it as the scene of the accident or scene of the crime," and she told him what she thought should be done next. He regarded her gravely for a few moments, then gave an opinion.
“I don't know. It might be viewed as tampering but --" and he paused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. " How about this for a suggestion?"
By the time they had agreed upon their course of action, and Janet removed her fractions from the cold-room to the deep-freeze, it was close to midnight. It was too late to phone Archie again. It was too late for tea too, she thought as she pulled her bike alongside the darkened house.
“Cake in bread-box, cocoa on stove, me in bed,'’ said the laconic note on the hall-table. Janet gratefully helped herself to her midnight snack in the kitchen. Perhaps she should phone Archie. She vacillated; too late tonight, probably too early in the morning - he would be furious knowing she had gone ahead without him. But why should she have to justify her actions to him anyway? He could as easily have tried to contact her.
In the end she took the last cup of cocoa up to bed with her. Morning would doubtless sort things out better for her. It was certainly a case of ’sufficient unto the day are the evils thereof’ she reflected, turning out the light and almost simultaneously dropping into total oblivion.
Death of the Rat Page 8
