“What do you think?” she asked Packingham.
A slight tick appeared in the corner of his left eye. “I rather agree that she must have been murdered by parties unknown.” His clipped British accent gave his words particular crispness.
Barnes’ spine stiffened. “Surely, Miss Campbell’s death was some sort of accident.” Barnes signaled the waiter that he too wanted a whiskey.
“The police thought that at first. They even considered suicide.” She watched both professors, carefully looking for some sort of a reaction.
“She was never despondent,” Packingham said. His face was a mask, impossible to interpret.
“You knew Sandy as well. There’s no question that she was murdered.”
“I’m afraid I didn’t know that young lady,” Barnes said. His eyes were following the movement of the waiter who was approaching.
“She wasn’t worth knowing,” Packingham said, raising his superior nose.
“I disagree,” Kim said.
He frowned at her. “She was a frivolous creature, bloody shallow, actually.”
“Did you know Lionel Forbes?” she asked, looking from Packingham to Barnes.
“Only by reputation,” Packingham said.
“That’s odd. Sandy mentioned seeing you at his house.”
“She was mistaken,” he said through tight lips.
“Lionel was the king of the mountain around here,” Barnes said. “Naturally, I knew him. He was, however, rather arrogant and conceited. Actually had the outrageous effrontery to mock religion in my presence. The powers that be, however, were willing to overlook a great deal because of his exalted reputation.”
The waiter arrived with Dr. Barnes’ drink and he lunged for it. After taking a quick gulp, he relaxed a bit.
“What did they have to overlook?” she asked.
“The man was peculiar. He said and did bizarre things. I suppose it was part of his charm for the students. He shone like Lucifer. Students appeared to worship him—only the troubled, lost and foolish ones, of course.”
“He had a student following,” she agreed. “You wouldn’t happen to know who some of those students might be?”
“I have no idea who they were,” Barnes responded quickly. “Of course, from time to time one does hear things.”
“Such as?”
He leaned over as if confiding some confidential information. “Homosexuals, perverts, and drug abusers. Forbes was morally corrupt, a total decadent. It is no surprise at all that someone killed him and chose fire as the means of his destruction. Symbolic act, if you ask me. If what has been bandied about is correct, the man was an abomination. Surely, this is the Lord’s judgment upon him. In fact, perhaps the assassin deserves the Medal of Honor.” Barnes sat back in his chair and smiled smugly as if well satisfied with his hyperbole. “The only thing Forbes and I agreed upon was the doctrine of original sin.”
Packingham finished his own drink and said nothing at first, turning his glass in his hand with grave concentration. “God judges in different ways,” he said finally.
Kim did not know how to interpret his comment, but it seemed merely to encourage Dr. Barnes.
“Proverbs tells us how to live through aphorism. It is not good to respect the person of the wicked, so as to turn aside the righteous in judgment. The Bible makes clear to us that we must beware of the wicked and follow the paths of righteousness. Perhaps Ms. Campbell and the other student who was killed were turned toward sin by Dr. Forbes.”
“Do you believe in Satan?” she asked Dr. Barnes.
“Had you read the Old Testament carefully, you would have learned more.” His voice was vibrating with scorn. “The name Satan comes from the Hebrew word meaning adversary. In the older books of the Hebrew Bible, those written before the Babylonian exile, Satan meant merely an opponent. David, for example, was not accepted by the Philistines because they feared he would turn against them in battle and become their Satan. In Zechariah, the prophet presents Joshua standing before God Almighty to be judged, and Satan standing at Joshua’s right hand to argue the case against him. In Job, Satan has become the accuser of men with a sharpened tongue. It is Satan who kills Job’s children, servants and cattle.”
“But surely he doesn’t act on God’s command.”
Barnes gave her a superior look, one black brow rising in an air of condescension. “Perhaps, but it is from this notion of an angel who both accuses and punishes men that the devil grows. Later Hebrew writers separate good from evil and see Jehovah as totally good. Evil is a powerful force in the universe, though perhaps not a single being or entity.”
“Not to be worshipped?” She watched him intently.
His eyes bulged. “Sacrilege! Those who worship Satan pervert nature. They are sinners in the truest form and cannot be condoned. In the transgression of an evil man there is a snare: But the righteous doth sing and rejoice.”
Dr. Packingham signaled the waiter for the check. He seemed very uneasy with the conversation. Meanwhile, she had the feeling that the dialogue had gotten away from her. Dr. Barnes had refined to an art speaking without actually saying anything, a rhetorician never at a loss for words. Her eyes caught the plain gold band on the third finger of Dr. Barnes’ left hand as he twisted it. She remembered the way he had ogled the legs of the pretty girls in his classroom. He must have looked at Lorette that way too. She turned now to Packingham, hoping that the busy waiter would ignore them for just a few more minutes.
“Lorette spoke to me about you, Dr. Packingham. You were sexually harassing her, and she wasn’t certain what to do about it. Did she tell you that she would go to the dean or the president if you persisted?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He glowered at her. “That’s absurd!”
“Is it?”
“Really, you have no right to talk that way to him,” Dr. Barnes rejoined indignantly. “This man is a guest in our country. Your rudeness and lack of good manners are unforgivable.”
She dug her nails into the upholstered chair seat and continued. “I’m sorry if I offended your sensibilities. However, Dr. Packingham wanted to go to bed with Lorette, and so did you, I believe. It therefore seems fitting that the two of you have become friendly since you share something in common. You both take advantage of your position to seduce vulnerable young women.”
“Flirtation is not seduction.” Dr. Barnes’ eyes shot lightning bolts in her direction.
Dr. Packingham glared at her furiously. The waiter left the bill and walked quickly away from the table.
“My treat,” Barnes told his companion as he hurriedly pulled bills from his wallet.
“Did Lorette threaten you with exposure? She was furious that someone had blackened her reputation. Did you know that she was asked to leave the university? Only a faculty member—someone like you—could arrange that.” She spoke in a quiet but determined voice.
“I was very fond of Lorette. You are ridiculous. Kindly never speak to me again.” Barnes’ face was redder than a rare roast beef.
“Did Lorette threaten to tell your wife? Even if you weren’t responsible for defaming her, Lorette might have thought you were.”
“I had nothing whatever to do with any threat of dismissal. Perhaps I lost my pulpit and my first wife due to an indiscretion, but that will never happen again. I avoid scandal assiduously.” He squared his shoulders with dignity and walked hurriedly toward the exit, followed by Packingham.
When Kim returned to her table, she found Don staring at her, a deep frown on his face. “I hope you never become my adversary. Poor windbag Barnes, you really went for his jugular.”
She felt the heat rising to her face but could do nothing to stop it. “I just want to find out what happened, for Lorette’s sake. Should her murder be just another unsolved crime?”
He shrugged. “I wasn’t planning to discuss her with you, but I suppose I’ll have to clear the air in that regard. I did not pursue Lorette Campbell. She seduced me.
You can believe that or not. And when she felt she had gotten whatever benefit from me that could be obtained, namely an A in my course, she simply moved on. I’m not proud of the way I behaved. I should have displayed a higher level of character and integrity, but the fact remains, I didn’t. Barnes may be a different story. He has something of a reputation for chasing young women. Granted, he’s hypocritical. And Packingham may be a womanizer as well. However, that does not change the fact that Lorette was a sexual opportunist.”
“She was not a whore, if that’s what you’re implying.” Kim could feel the heat rising to her face again.
He raised his hand in a sign of peace. “I’m sorry. You seem to be taking what happened to her quite personally. You are sensitive and feel things deeply. Nonetheless, she and you were nothing alike. You are quite naive about her.”
She looked away from him. When the waiter returned and asked if they wanted dessert, they both refused. Don drove Kim back to her car so that she could bring it home. The sight of the burned-out shell that had been Dr. Forbes’ home horrified her. Forbes had died in that fire; she might very well have died with him. It sobered her immensely. She and Don had not spoken for a long time. Now she turned to him.
“I don’t want to quarrel with you. You’re my friend. I know that.”
“Even friends can’t agree about everything,” he said, his voice softening. “I’ll phone you soon.” He gently brushed her lips with his own and then she left his car.
* * * *
That night, she slept badly, dreaming that she returned to Lionel Forbes’ house. She had come dressed in a hooded cloak drawn around her head and body. She walked down the stairs to the cellar. She could hear chanting voices. Forbes was at the front of the group, standing at the altar. He pointed his finger at her. The room circled about her, an eerie montage of red and black colors blurring.
“I am the devil,” he announced, his cobalt eyes riveted to hers. “If you fail to worship me, I will destroy you!”
Suddenly, hooded figures were laying hands on her. She saw their faces, but they did not look at her with any form of recognition. Lorette peered down at her; then she saw Sandy, and Nick Margrove. There was one other whose face remained unrevealed. They led her to the altar, forced her to lie down upon it. Dr. Forbes produced a sharp knife, a large, machete-like instrument with peculiar carvings on the silver hilt. “Now you become one with us.” The knife came down toward her heart as the others held her struggling body. The eyes of the magician absorbed all other light from the room until their brilliance blinded her. And as the knife came down, she let out a scream of terror.
Kim awoke, sweating, trembling, feeling ill. Her headache was back in force. She looked at the kitchen clock. It was three in the morning. She got out of bed and washed down two aspirin with a drink of spring water. But it was several hours before she could relax enough to sleep again. Strange, she thought, the one place that the dead still live is in the mind.
SEVENTEEN
Kim phoned Jim Davis the following morning. She asked to meet him and he agreed. The problem was she wasn’t certain what she wanted to discuss with him. But some nagging doubts remained in her mind regarding his relationship with Lorette. Her sensitivity was sending out signals.
For Jim’s convenience, they planned to meet at the graduate student lounge at Kinley Hall. Kim was early and decided to drop by and have a word with Pat Norris. The secretary wasn’t her usual efficient self today; she seemed frazzled.
“I hardly have time to say hello to anyone this week. We’re so incredibly busy. Everyone in the English department seems to need work all at once. I hate it when it’s this hectic. And then there’s all this mess.”
“Mess?”
“Didn’t you notice how sloppy the rooms are? Frank’s been out. Didn’t even bother to phone and let us know he wouldn’t be in. We’re going to have to replace him if we don’t hear from him in another day or so. The cleaning crew is complaining about being short-handed.”
“Where is Frank?”
“Wish I knew! I’m furious with him. He was always dedicated and did a good job. I’ve never seen the corridors so littered before.”
“Have you talked to any of the other custodians? Maybe they know why he hasn’t shown up.”
Pat removed her eyeglasses and rubbed her eyes tiredly. “No, I’ve asked. No one knows.”
Kim went to the graduate student lounge to wait, wondering about Frank. Could there be any connection between Frank’s disappearance and Dr. Forbes? When had he cleaned for Dr. Forbes last? An odd thought gnawed at the back of her mind. Jim came shortly after she returned to the lounge and they had a cup of coffee together. The tension between them was palpable.
“So you formally dropped Packingham’s course?” she asked, feeling awkward.
“Yep, it’s official. Didn’t need the damn credits anyhow.”
An attractive blonde walked into the lounge, her eyes lighting up when she saw Jim. She lost no time in moving in like an eagle swooping down on prey.
“Hi,” she said to him, placing her hand on his arm. “I was hoping to see you here. Are you free at lunchtime today?”
“Busy,” he said with a dismissive shrug.
She gave Kim a dirty look, as if she were to blame and stalked away.
“Seems like if you don’t make yourself available, the gals hit on you instead of vice versa.”
“Time you joined the living,” she said sympathetically. “In fact, I thought you already had.”
“What if the dead won’t stay buried?” Jim spoke as if he felt guilty about something and she had to wonder.
He sighed deeply, walked over to the window and looked out. Kim was aware there was nothing to see out there but the parking lot. He looked preoccupied.
“What’s bothering you?”
“Just thinking about Lorette. Wondering if we could have made a go of it together if she hadn’t died. Can’t get her out of my mind. Still don’t believe she’s dead.”
“I know.” Kim put a comforting hand on his broad shoulder. “Any time you feel like talking about it, just give me a call.”
He nodded his head absently. “Thanks, Kim, you’re okay. It just doesn’t make any sense, does it?”
“No, not to me either.”
Looking for sanity in an insane world, maybe that was the ridiculous thing, she decided. If life was absurd as Sartre declared, then why was she so determined to find logical explanations? Murder was insane, an act of lunacy.
She and Jim parted on friendly terms. She probably should have asked him hard questions, such as had he and Lorette quarreled before her death and if so, why? Was he the jealous type? After all, it was not uncommon for spurned men to murder their wives or former sweethearts. But she liked Jim too much to believe that he would do something like that. She couldn’t push him on the subject of Lorette’s death. Yet she sensed there was something more that he might have told her, something that he was holding back for personal reasons. Lieutenant Gardner would have said that was the difference between a professional and an amateur. He would have known what to ask and just how to ask it. Perhaps she really did not have the instincts needed to dig for serious answers. She felt very weary, and the day had barely begun.
There were footsteps behind her as she walked down the deserted corridor. Suddenly, someone lunged at her, shoving her none too gently into an empty classroom. Her heart pumping rapidly like a Thoroughbred racing toward the finish, she turned to see who had grabbed her.
“You!” Her eyes opened wide.
“That’s right. I saw you where you shouldn’t be, nosing around again, causing trouble.” His hand rose as if to strike her.
It was then she saw that he held a knife. For a brief moment she was paralyzed with fear. Her nightmare of the previous evening returned to haunt her. Then she remembered something she’d been taught in her self-defense course. Kim brought up her right knee and pushed it forcefully into her assailant’s groin. She kicked the k
nife out of his hand. Only then was she able to breathe again.
“What’d you do that for?” Sprawled out on the floor, Nick Margrove looked as harmless as a pimply-faced adolescent who’d fallen over his own feet. She had to remind herself that he might have done her real harm if she hadn’t acted decisively.
“It would have been more to your liking if I let you assault me?”
He groaned loudly, continuing to lie on the wooden floor. “You really hurt me, you know that!”
“People must defend themselves when they’re threatened. Are you a killer, Mr. Margrove? Did someone else put you up to this?”
“Screw you! I didn’t kill anybody.” His face was red with rage.
“For an English major, you show a decidedly poor vocabulary. I’ve always believed profanity was the mode of expression of mental midgets. Did Dr. Forbes put you up to murdering Lorette and Sandy? Did you have a falling out and then kill him?”
“I’d never have hurt Dr. Forbes. He was a great man and an outstanding teacher. He taught everything that matters. He helped me experiment with life.”
“You participated in his satanic worship rituals, didn’t you?”
He shrugged in a noncommittal manner.
“Did you know about an inferno collection? I am right in assuming that?”
“I never saw it. I hadn’t proven myself worthy.” He got gingerly to his feet.
“But you knew about it? Who else knew? Who was involved in the group?”
Suddenly, he moved, pushing her off balance. Before she could think of what to say or do, Nick Margrove hurried out the door. She was relieved to see that she hadn’t injured him after all, but was disappointed that she hadn’t succeeded in getting him to tell her anything relevant. She stood staring at his knife and wondered what he would have done to her if she hadn’t stopped him. Was he merely trying to frighten her? She had no idea. She slipped the discarded weapon into her handbag.
Should she call Lieutenant Gardner and report the assault? She decided against it for two reasons: one, he would be very displeased that she was still looking into Lorette’s murder, and second, he had already questioned Nick Margrove and found out nothing. She was convinced it was a mistake to inform him of what had occurred.
The Inferno Collection Page 17
