Sounds of Murder

by Patricia Rockwell

  "Shut up!" he growled, shoving her backwards against her wall. Pamela frantically tried to extricate her neck from his grasp. Their struggle knocked over her desk chair. Pamela was becoming tired.

  "Stop it!" he threatened. “I should’ve run you into a ditch Friday night and finished you off then!” He slammed her against the wall, pushing on her neck and upper body as hard as he could.

  She was now unable to get her hands between his hands and her neck. Her cries were stopped by the pressure his large hands were placing on her throat.

  When she believed she couldn’t last one more second without air, she heard footsteps in the hallway, people calling her name, and the sound of her office door rattling.

  Chapter 24

  His hands pushed hard on her throat and his upper body pressed her into the wall. The back of her head was smashed up against a framed copy of her doctoral diploma. A lot of good this certificate did her now in fighting for her life, she thought.

  Rex's cheek was a whisker away from hers as he growled into her ear, "You stupid bitch! Why couldn't you leave well enough alone?"

  She was struggling for air and desperately trying to push him away. Sounds of people outside the door, yelling, and the door rattling wavered at the corner of her consciousness.

  Rex seemed oblivious to the sounds in the hall. He was totally focused on squeezing the life out of her.

  All of a sudden, the door exploded and slammed against the far wall—reverberating wildly. Shoop burst into the room, followed by several officers with guns drawn. Joan, Kent, and Willard were clumped in a group, peeking in from the hallway.

  Rex grimaced as Shoop directed the officers to pull him away from Pamela, which they did, shoving him forcefully against the far wall. Joan ran into the room and put her arms around Pamela’s shoulders and guided her to the sofa. Pamela was limp, shaking, her hands touching her throat, feeling for damage. Kent and Willard watched from the doorway.

  "My God, Dr. Barnes! Are you all right?" called out Kent.

  "Don't make her talk," said Joan, holding up a hand to Kent, "Her throat might be injured."

  "Shall I call I doctor?" asked Kent.

  "No," said Pamela, in a dry, choked voice, "I'm all right. Just scared."

  "Cuff him," said Shoop to the officers, and the two men turned Rex around and pulled his arms behind him, quickly snapping handcuffs on his wrists.

  "Kent," directed Joan, "why don't you go get Dr. Barnes a glass of water."

  "A pitcher--in my refrigerator," Pamela spoke hoarsely, pointing her finger at her coffee cup on her desk. Kent grabbed the cup, went to the small icebox, and poured her a drink of water. She swallowed the liquid hungrily. It felt wonderful in her throat and cooling.

  "Thank you," she said. "Thank you, all."

  Detective Shoop spoke to her, looking somewhat sheepish.

  "Dr. Barnes," he said, "Sorry it took us so long to get inside your office. We were all ready to go, hiding out in Dr. Bentley’s office, but the bastard managed to lock your door. We should have planned better. That was too close."

  "Detective Shoop," replied Pamela, now calmer and somewhat amused by the lanky man, "I’m just grateful you and your men were here as my---my back-up, as you say. Anyway, we at least have proof that Dr. Tyson murdered Dr. Clark now."

  “You have nothing!” cried Rex.

  “Actually, Rex,” she said, turning to where he stood handcuffed, “I do,” and she drew the tiny hand-held tape-recorder from her pocket. “I have your entire confession right here.”

  "Dr. Barnes, I guess we're going to have to put you on the payroll,” noted Shoop. All right, everyone, let's all get out of here and give Dr. Barnes a chance to catch her breath. The officers will take care of---the suspect. I had my doubts about you, Tyson right from the git go. Anyway, men, get him out of here."

  The police officers quickly dragged Rex out of Pamela’s office.

  “My dear,” whispered Joan to Pamela, “This has been a day to remember. You catch the killer and I get locked in my office with three hunky police men.” She gave her a quick hug and then led Willard and Kent out of the office and down the hallway.

  Pamela found herself alone with Shoop. She was seated on the sofa, wondering if the man would manage to extricate her from her comfortable position, so he could lounge on her couch again. However, Shoop remained standing.

  "So, Dr. Barnes," he said, peering down at her, ”You solved the murder, it appears.” He stared at her intently.

  She heard small footsteps running down the hall. Angela appeared in the doorway breathless.

  "Mom!" she cried, running to her mother on the couch and hugging her tightly, "Are you okay? Kent said someone tried to kill you."

  "I'm fine, sweetheart," she replied, enjoying every second of a very infrequent hug from her daughter. "This is Detective Shoop, who’s investigating the case. Detective, my daughter Angela."

  The big detective bowed courteously to the young woman. Angela, oblivious, turned to her mother.

  "Mom," she begged, "This is terrible. You should go home."

  "I’m afraid, dear," shrugged Pamela, "that the detective needs to question me about what happened."

  "Can't you wait until tomorrow?" Angela demanded of the detective. Pamela was delighted to see her daughter defend her so strongly. This was the most affection she had shown her in ages and Pamela was enjoying every moment of it.

  "Hmmm," he sighed, realizing that it was probably hopeless to accomplish much at the moment. "Dr. Barnes, if you’d be so kind as to come down to headquarters tomorrow and give us your statement, I guess we can let you go home. You’ve been through quite a bit today, and it does appear that you’re no longer in any immediate danger."

  "That would be wonderful," she smiled sweetly at him. He tucked his notebook back in his pocket and shook hands with both women and then departed quickly.

  "Mom," repeated Angela, giving her mother a quick hug, "I can't believe all this. You’re like a hero--or something." A hug too! Will wonders never cease?

  "Actually," noted Pamela, "Jane Marie, Joan, Willard, and Kent were here too. They followed the police in when Rex was trying to kill me."

  "You mean Kent saved your life?"

  "Sort of. He certainly did help." She noted how impressed her daughter was with this new accolade draped over the shoulders of the obviously remarkable Kent.

  "Wow!"

  "Tell you what," she hugged her daughter warmly, "Let's get out of here."

  The two—mother and daughter--headed out. Pamela stopped briefly in the main office to grab her mail and to let Jane Marie know she was leaving.

  As she entered Jane Marie’s small alcove, she discovered a mob of people gathered--Kent, Willard, Phineas, Joan, Laura, Bob, Arliss, and several other graduate students—almost the entire department. Actually, they were all standing around Jane Marie's desk, as Jane Marie described what had happened between Rex and Pamela. When Pamela entered, they all parted way for her, all expressing concern. Obviously, Jane Marie was the source to go to for the latest scoop on this departmental excitement. Angela stood back from the group of faculty and watched while her mother became the center of attention.

  Joan gave Pamela an especially long squeeze. Arliss hugged her too.

  "’Same 'ol, same 'ol,’ my foot," Pamela whispered to Arliss, returning the hug. Arliss gave her a look of confusion, and Pamela nodded slyly in the direction of Bob Goodman, at which Arliss blushed deeply, “You can certainly keep a secret.”

  The others shook her hand, patted her on the back or hugged her. She felt a tremendous amount of love from her colleagues.

  At that moment, Mitchell's door opened and the department head called to her.

  "Dr. Barnes," he cried, "Thank God, you’re all right! If you don't mind, I’d really like to speak with you about all of this--just for a moment." He awaited her response, which he assumed would be for her to enter his office.

  "Um, Mitchell," she hesitated, "my daughte
r Angela is with me. I promised her I’d take her home.... "

  "I'll be glad to take Angie home, Dr. Barnes," spoke up Kent, who was chatting quietly with Angela towards the back of the well-wishers.

  "Wonderful!" announced Mitchell, and grabbed Pamela's elbow and escorted her into his office. Pamela looked back at her daughter, who waved a friendly good-bye as she headed out with Kent at her side.

  “Jane Marie,” begged Pamela, “would you please call my husband and tell him I’ll be a bit late and why?”

  “Sure, Dr. Barnes.” She gave Pamela a heartfelt look of sympathy.

  The pack of faculty members dissipated with Pamela's disappearance into Mitchell's inner sanctum.

  Mitchell gestured for Pamela to sit and took his royal place at his large desk.

  "My God!" he said, shaking his head, "I can't believe all of this has happened. Your life was threatened. And Rex. He’s such a cheerful, good-natured guy. Lord, he has a wife and two small children. It never crossed my mind that he was capable of such a thing."

  "Me neither," she answered, "But it's over now. It's really over, Mitchell. The killer’s been caught and we don't have to be frightened anymore."

  "Yes," he said, sighing. "What a devastating thing for you--for us—for the department."

  "I know," she replied, "To lose two faculty members in such a terrible way."

  They were both silent for a moment.

  "Pamela," he then said, carefully, "Jane Marie told me how worried you and she have been about certain things that have happened recently—in addition, of course, to Charlotte’s murder. Given what you’ve just gone through, I think you have a right to know something. It’s something I’ve already told Jane Marie. But, I’d just ask that you keep what I’m going to tell you private."

  "Of course," she replied, suddenly intrigued.

  "First, let me say, I had no love for Charlotte. She aggravated me as I know she did many faculty here. But, Lord, I’d never contemplate hurting her or anything like that. Even so, Jane Marie apparently was worried about me and Charlotte--or my relationship with Charlotte. Evidently, she was concerned about an argument we’d had the day before the murder. I told her, and I’ll tell you, the subject of that argument was the Tenure Committee. It's not really a secret. The Dean’s demanding that we restrict tenure to two candidates rather than three.”

  Mitchell pulled his chair closer to his desk and bent in towards Pamela. “Look, I don't like this any better than anyone else, but there's not much I can do about it, and I told Charlotte that. She was furious with me--and the Dean--and just about everyone. She is—was--determined to have her own way and get Laura tenured. I told her Laura might be better off postponing applying for tenure until next year, and that Rex and Phin were, in my opinion, the two obvious candidates--although I don't vote on the committee. This made her even madder. We just both lost it. I’m so sorry now in retrospect. Anyway, I had no idea how far she’d go to seek vengeance, but evidently, she not only attempted to ruin Rex to prevent him from getting tenure--and he, as we know, took direct steps to do something about it, but--she also attempted to blackmail me."

  "Blackmail?"

  "Yes, Jane Marie told me that she--and you--know about the photograph of the woman Charlotte left in my mailbox. This is the private part. Oh, God, I’m so sorry. That photo is of a lovely young woman--Evelyn Carrier--a former student. I ran into her a few years ago at a convention and we got to talking--and, this is embarrassing, Pamela--things were not going well between Velma and me at the time--and Evelyn and I became involved.” Mitchell bent his head and ran his fingers through his blonde hair.

  “Worse yet, it continued,” he said. “Charlotte found out about it--I don't know how, but obviously she must have assumed that by showing me Evelyn's photo that I’d be frightened of exposure and side with her in support of Laura over Rex. She was wrong. All her actions did were to make me realize how dastardly my behavior had been. I confessed to Velma. Thank the Lord, she believed me when I said I was sorry, and that I wanted to work things out with her.” He bit his lower lip and took a deep breath.

  “I called Evelyn into my office and told her what had happened. I told her we’d no longer be able to see each other. She was sad, as Jane Marie saw when she witnessed Evelyn leaving my office, but it had to be done. Never once, did it occur to me to do anything to Charlotte. That’s the whole story, Pamela. I hope hearing this doesn't forever demean me in your eyes."

  "Actually, Mitchell," Pamela smiled warmly, "It just makes you seem human." He smiled back at her, his shoulders dropping noticeably.

  "After this all calms down and things get back to normal," he mused, "I'll have to make adjustments to compensate for the loss of Charlotte and Rex in the department. Obviously, we'll have to hire replacements, but right now, I’ll need to find a way to restructure our schedule to cover their classes in the mean time."

  "If I may make a suggestion," she said.

  "Pamela, given your involvement in all of this—and a positive one, if I may say so, I would truly value your input on how best to handle the void caused by Charlotte's and Rex's—um--absence."

  "Mitchell," she began, "I know your first instinct is to replace Charlotte, but, really, when you think about it, you can't replace her. Students took her courses because she was who she was. Her subject area is so narrow, that to find someone of her caliber in the same field would be cost prohibitive. In Rex’s case--well, Phin is a Rex clone. Not as good a teacher, but I think he's getting better. I would, for the rest of the semester anyway, to test the waters, have Phin take over Rex's upper division courses."

  "And his two mass lecture classes?" he asked.

  "Hmm," she smiled, "Seems to me we have an ideal person in our department, someone noted for their ability to handle general introductory courses--especially for undergrads--someone who even has published extensively. Now, it might be difficult to entice this person to pull himself away from administrative duties for the two hours on Mondays that he’d have to...."

  "You are devious," mused Mitchell, "I do miss teaching. It’s even possible that such an arrangement could be permanent. However, if we don't replace Rex or Charlotte, we'll have funding for two additional faculty lines. What would we do with that?"

  "Mitchell," she teased, "You’ve been promising Bob Goodman increased funding for animal psychology for years and so has the Dean. You know that the animal lab is disintegrating and if it doesn't get a fresh influx of funds soon, you might just as well cancel animal psychology classes together. It seems to me that this is a golden opportunity to salvage our animal psych program--sort of an endowment from Charlotte--and Rex, if you will."

  "Funny," he laughed, "Charlotte hated animal psych."

  "Well," said Pamela, "She doesn't need to know."

  "Are you sure you wouldn't like my job?" he asked.

  "Never in a million years," she responded. They both laughed and she felt a new understanding of her typically inscrutable boss. He would never be her friend, but she could communicate with him, she realized. She bid him farewell and headed home.

  Chapter 25

  Rocky was, as usual, waiting for her at the kitchen door, a look of annoyance on his face. Jane Marie had phoned and informed him of the occurrences that took place in Pamela's office this afternoon. It would not be pretty, she knew. She had done everything he warned her not too. She was not an obedient spouse. She’d probably get latrine duty.

  "Babe," he cried, embracing her tightly. She remained in his arms as long as she could. She knew there would be a scolding.

  When she finally pulled away, she asked, "Well, aren't you going to make me do forty push-ups?"

  "No," he said, softly, "It's a waste of time. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I have a daredevil for a wife. Tracking down and confronting cold-blooded killers unarmed. No, not going to even mention the foolishness of such actions, because it's obvious that my wife pays absolutely no attention to any of my warnings."

 
"The police were there all the time," she gulped bravely. “It was a set-up.”

  “And you were the bait.”

  A soft-spoken Rocky was scarier than a furious Rocky. At least, she was used to his being macho and wanting to protect her. Maybe they truly were in a new era where men and women, husbands and wives, were each responsible for themselves--and each other.

  "It's just that I--I--had evidence of the crime and I knew how to make use of it to find who killed Charlotte. I just couldn't ignore it."

  "I know."

  Candide appeared from around the corner. He had heard his mistress's voice and came prancing in, wanting a scratch. Pamela obliged.

  "Did Angie get home yet?" she asked her husband.

  "Yup," he responded, "She dropped off her books, introduced me to that macabre Kent fellow who looks like something out of a horror movie, told me her mother had almost been killed by a maniac, then they took off in his car."

  "Rocky," she smiled, "I told you Kent is perfectly harmless."

  "Isn't that what you used to think about that Rex fellow who attacked you this afternoon in your office?" he responded, teeth clenched.

  "Please, honey," she pleaded, "I'll explain everything." She pulled on his arm. "Maybe, you could give me another one of your relaxing foot massages," she hinted.

  "Don't you want dinner?" he asked.

  "Yes," she responded, hopefully.

  "I didn't make anything," he announced, looking glum.

  "What? You didn't cook anything?" Had Hell frozen over?

  "When your secretary called about you, I couldn't even think straight. Cooking was the last thing on my mind. I don’t believe I’ll be able to think about cooking ever again unless you promise me you’ll give up sleuthing" he said, peering deep into her eyes.

  "Sleuthing?" she questioned, stunned. "Well, of course, I can promise that. My sleuthing days are over.”

  “Wonderful,” he replied, “Then, you’ve got your cook back.”

  She hugged him. She meant every word of her promise. She did. What was the likelihood that someone else would be murdered in their little town? What was the likelihood that even if that happened she would be the only one with the expertise to solve it? Virtually nil. Yes, it was an easy promise to make.