Failure is Fatal

by Lesley A. Diehl

  “What do you mean?” I said.

  “I thought it was a crime of passion, but, if the murder wrote out the description prior to the night she was killed, then—”

  “Then,” I finished his sentence for him, “it was planned in advance, or someone had access to this lab after the murder and slipped that description into the results.”

  “Right. What kind of a person would do either?” Der said on his way out the door. “Hate to do this, Murphy, but I have to bring your president and Captain Rodgers up to speed on these recent happenings involving your research.”

  Following so closely on the heels of the murdered coed, this turn of events would not make either of these men happy to see Der. I was certain that I would be hearing from the president myself very soon. The involvement of my research with the recent murder might mean the end of the project.

  I told Paula she might as well go on back to her residence hall and that I would be responsible for locking up.

  “I know this is going to be tough, but you can’t say anything to Karen about this, okay?”

  Paula nodded in agreement. “I want you to know that none of us ever went through either pile trying to match up names and responses even though we knew that was possible. And both sets of information are always locked in separate file cabinets. I mean, once we take the names off the consent forms to make up a list of our participants, we just put those forms in the bottom file drawer and never look at them again.”

  “You all do great work. The issue of research ethics is not meant to be anyone’s problem. It’s a protection for our subjects.” I gave Paula a pat on the shoulder and watched her walk down the hall to the outside door.

  She turned back to me at the top of the stairs. “But isn’t this really cool? We’re involved in a murder investigation! I mean, it’s grisly and all, but great.”

  It was clear that Paula was caught up in the potential for solving this crime. Like me, she tended to get carried away by challenges, even those that involved tracking down a murderer. I hoped that this character trait was one she inherited from her family and not one I unintentionally modeled for her. I shook my head at her macabre sense of wonderment, praying I would not have to answer to enraged parents if their impulsive daughter spent more time playing Sherlock Holmes than studying for her semester exams.

  I sat down at the table and looked at the forms, then wandered over to the window and looked across the campus. An argument battled within my mind, but I was fairly certain I knew which side would prevail. Curiosity usually got the better of me, and I would have been surprised if it did not win this time. Damn! I wanted to hold true to what I told Paula. I sighed, locked the door to the lab and walked over to the table where the consent forms and the pile of response forms still lay. The response form with the disturbing account of the murder was now missing, having been removed by Inspector Der for fingerprint analysis. That would come to nothing, except to confirm that numerous prints were all over the page. I extracted the pair of winter gloves that had been left in the lab along with other articles of clothing such as caps, scarves and boots, discarded by student workers over the years. Pulling one over my right hand, I turned over the consent form in question and read the signature scribbled across the bottom.

  “Charles Darwin,” I read.

  So, I was protecting the identity of a man dead for almost a century. How very moral of me!

  Chapter 4

  A knock at the lab door startled me. Heart pounding, I pulled off the glove, threw it into the box with the other lost items, and called out, “Who’s there?”

  “It’s Der. Let me in.”

  “What are you doing back here?” I was not pleased to have him catch me still in the lab and with the door locked.

  “What are you still doing here, alone, with the door locked?” He looked at the pile of papers on the table. In my rush to replace the consent form, did I leave it misaligned with the others in the pile? I was certain that Der saw it was out of place, but he merely handed me the sign-up sheet I gave him earlier.

  “I made a copy for you,” he said.

  “Oh, thanks. How stupid of me not to have thought of that myself.” I took the sheet and perused the names. “No Charles Darwin here.”

  “What?”

  “I said, ‘Do you know who Charles Darwin is’?”

  “Of course, I do, doesn’t everyone? And don’t you mean, ‘who Charles Darwin was’”?

  “Precisely.” I grabbed my coat and slid the sign-up sheet into my purse.

  “The president would like to see you in his office. He said to send you over now. Captain Rodgers is there also. I thought I’d warn you,” Der said as we headed out of the building.

  “Was Rodgers there when you talked to the president?”

  “He came in when we were finishing up. I guess the president summoned him.”

  “This is going to be one hell of an evening. Well, you said you wanted me in on the murder. I guess I am, but not in the way I wanted to be. This is too close. And scary.”

  “Look, considering the circumstances, maybe you should just take a pass on this one.”

  “What do you mean? I can’t take a pass on this one.”

  “Okay, Murphy. It’s your call, but take some time to think about it if you want.”

  “Don’t be an idiot. I don’t want to think about it. I want to find the creep who did it, maybe even more than you do.” With that I pulled my coat collar up around my face and headed for the administration building.

  *

  I drove my beat-up Toyota into the drive of my house on the lake, glad to be away from the campus, and particularly away from the lab. I wanted to leave the words describing the murdered woman behind me. They only served to magnify the horror I felt at finding Marie Becca in her car. As I walked up the sidewalk to the door, I could hear Samantha, my seven-month-old Golden Retriever eagerly pawing at the other side of the door. Sure enough, the minute I unlocked the door, she bounded beyond me into the yard.

  “Long day, huh, sweetie?” Samantha, or Sam for short, headed for the far side of the yard, her favorite spot for a long-awaited pee.

  “Sorry I was so late, girl.” I petted her silky head as she came back to greet me. The wind caught the open door and threatened to break it from its hinges.

  “Looks like a storm is brewing.” Perhaps the first snow of the oncoming winter, although October was early for snow. Early or not, the wind was cold; a good strong fire in the wood stove would be a comfort for the evening.

  “Come on, Sam. You can help.” An absolutely absurd comment. How could a dog help gather wood for the fire? I just wanted the company as evening set in. I had the shakes from the events of the afternoon and didn’t like the idea of being alone outside as it grew dark. Funny. I always felt safe at the lake, the one place that comforted me when the world closed in. Now I saw threat in the shadows that filled the yard.

  I tossed my coat on the couch and ran up the stairs to the bedroom to change into something more appropriate for gathering wood than the clothes I wore to the university. I had my head and body almost completely into the back of the closet when Sam nudged me with her cold nose.

  “I’m coming, Sam. I need to find that old army jacket Guy left here and my leather gloves. Here they are.” I held them up and then bumped my head on the clothes rack backing out of the closet. “Damn. I always do that! Maybe this closet could stand some straightening.” I said the same last summer and hadn’t gotten to it. I pulled on jeans and a sweater, donned the army jacket and proceeded down the stairs to retrieve the wood carrier. Sam was not beside me.

  “Come on, Sam. Get out of the closet and come here.” I opened the door to let us into the yard. Sam held back and growled. A figure stood just beyond the walkway. In the dim light, I couldn’t make out if it was a friend or a stranger, man or woman. Sam began to bark in earnest. I held tight to her collar, but she lunged forward.

  “Who is it?”

  “Hey, Laura.
” The figure walked out of the darkness into the light from the kitchen window.

  “Guy.” I breathed in relief. “What are you doing here?”

  “It’s Friday. Remember me, your own true love who usually tries to show up on Fridays especially when he’s called on Thursday to let you know he’s coming? I know I haven’t been here since last weekend, but you do remember me, don’t you?” He finished removing his motorcycle helmet from his head, while he reached out to vigorously pet Sam’s.

  “I’d greet you, too, Laura, if you’d remove that look of terror from your face. I don’t look that bad to you, do I?”

  Getting no answer from me, he began to look concerned.

  “Did I scare you? I thought for certain you would hear the motorcycle pulling into the drive.”

  “Oh,” I said and held out my arms to him. “No, Sam and I were upstairs in the closet.”

  “Oh, Murphy, you shouldn’t have.” He held me at arms’ length. “You found something really sexy to wear for my arrival.”

  “I think it may snow. What gave you the crazy idea you could ride your bike in this weather?” As much as I loved his motorcycle, I worried about him driving it all this way, and especially on slippery roads.

  “It was a little cool coming down from Canada, but I wanted to get in a last ride before I put her away for the winter. If it’s too cold to ride back on Sunday, you can give me a ride to the bus station, and I’ll take the bus back. You wouldn’t mind if I stored her here in your garage for the winter, would you? You have this really nice double garage that holds only your old Toyota and a bunch of junk that I thought I might help you clear out. And besides, since you refuse to marry me, I thought that having my bike in your garage would kind of cement our relationship. Maybe like we’re at least going steady.”

  “First of all, that ‘junk’ in my garage is important stuff, and I don’t want it cleaned out. And second, why couldn’t you just ask me if you could store your bike in my garage?”

  “Okay. Can I store my bike in your garage?”

  “No.”

  “Oh.”

  “At least not until you apologize for taking such a risk riding down here in this weather. If it snowed, you’d be in real trouble. You’re such a…”

  Guy cut me off in midsentence. “That’s enough love talk for now. I know you’re crazy about me.” He grinned one of his sexy grins. I smiled what I hoped was one of my sexy smiles. It was just so darn hard to stay mad at this man.

  “Here, I’ll get the wood. You rustle up some snacks for a tired and cold man. And make sure there’s an interesting drink among those snacks. I could use something to warm up these bones.”

  “I’ve got just the thing.” I removed the wood carrier from his hand, grabbed his arm and guided him up the stairs. “There’s more than one way to build a fire.”

  I led him into the bedroom and shoved him onto the bed, then turned and closed the bedroom door knowing that Sam would like nothing more than to take up half the bed while we engaged in amorous pursuits.

  A few minutes later we were stripped of clothes and things were moving along well with the exception of Sam’s constant barking at the bedroom door.

  “She’s never done that before,” Guy said as he nibbled on my ear.

  “Dog’s spoiled, and it’s my fault.” I ran my hands over his back. Such a strong back.

  “Anyone here?” a voice said from the foot of the stairs.

  I flopped on my back with a moan not brought on by pleasure. “Oh, god, it’s Der”

  I slipped on a robe and opened the door. Sure enough Der stood at the foot of the stairs.

  “Hi.” If he noticed a storm brewing on my face, he ignored it. “The door wasn’t locked, and I saw Guy’s bike in the drive.”

  I sighed. “I’ll be right down.”

  “No hurry, Murphy, but this house could stand a fire in the wood stove. Would make it a lot cozier for guests.” Der turned away and headed toward the kitchen. I could tell he wasn’t a bit embarrassed that he had caught the two of us upstairs.

  “You could gather some wood from the woodpile,” I yelled after him.

  “I could, but I’ve got my good clothes on.”

  “You don’t own any good clothes.” I pulled on my jeans and sweater.

  I pounded down the stairs after again donning the army fatigue jacket. Turning to search for the log carrier, I spied Der closely examining my costume.

  “Don’t say a word,” I warned him.

  “What’s she so hot about?” Der said to Guy as he descended the stairs.

  Guy merely shrugged and softly whispered in my ear, “later” as he relieved me of the log carrier and headed for the door.

  “Not to put too fine a point on it, my dear,” Der said after Guy left, “but your tailor appears to be the United States government and mine is Sears. So what’s the difference?”

  “The difference is that mine was a gift from a friend and you chose yours and paid money for it.”

  He held up his hands. “I’m the lucky guy who happened to be driving by your house.”

  “No one ‘happens’ to drive by my house. I live off the main highway on a road people can’t find unless they know where it is and intend to go there.”

  “Let me finish. You’re going to love this, I know, and it’ll make up for my interrupting your little love fest without warning.” Der paused to see if dangling the possibility of information would shut me up long enough for him to continue his story. It did.

  “Since you were rushing off to see your president, I didn’t have the opportunity to fill you in on what Rodgers and the prez had to say to me. The president was particularly delighted that you were involved. That reminds me. Don’t you get along with any of the presidents at this college? The last one is dead, not that you were responsible for that, but you’d think since you didn’t like him that you’d make some effort with the new one.” Der took a breath, just the moment I needed.

  “This present president is only temporary, so I only need make an effort with the next one who, we all can hope, will be better than the dead guy or his sidekick who replaced him. Get on with it.” I turned toward the cupboard. “Wine?”

  “I’ve got to go back to work. Got anything in your fridge nonalcoholic that isn’t black or green or moving?”

  “I’m waiting,” I said.

  He turned toward me and continued his story. “The president suggested that, ‘In light of the discovery of the description of the murder in Dr. Murphy’s research, the Committee on Research with Human Subjects might want to recommend she discontinue her work,’ and I’m quoting, you know.”

  “Yeah, he said the same to me in the beginning, but I guess you asked him to let me continue.”

  “Yeah, I did,” Der said. “In fact, I’ve asked him to keep this information contained. We’re not going to go public with the description that popped up in your results. We’ll work the information to get out of it as much as we can because these are the strongest leads we have. In the meantime, you’ll have to be content with holding off on additional testing of subjects until you get the go-ahead from me.”

  “Anything else you found out in your meeting?” I asked.

  “No, that’s about it.”

  “Did you notice anything odd about Captain Rodgers?”

  “He was pretty nonchalant over the detail in that murder description. He merely nodded when I told them where we found it. He said you were often involved in a lot of sex research, and it was bound to come to something like this. He went so far as to suggest that you or one of your assistants planted the story.”

  “Typical Rodgers.” I banged my fist on the kitchen table, and the wine sloshed out of my glass. “By the time I got there, he was telling the president that my research was making trouble on this campus and that I was personally responsible for the graffiti on my door, that I had pushed my feminist agenda too far on this campus and the men were taking action in response to being dominated by a woman.
He also said he thought that Marie Becca might have had it coming.”

  “What!” Der said.

  “Yep, that these crimes were often the result of a woman being too tempting to a man, frustrating him and driving him to murder. Before I could jump him, the president told him to settle down, and he stormed out of the room.” I was steamed.

  “I can’t believe someone in law enforcement could be so behind the times. Where do you get these guys?” said Der.

  “It was a nationwide search that produced this one. Gives you pause, doesn’t it? Anyway, I’m glad you convinced President Evans that little would be gained by discontinuing my research, and I guess I owe you my gratitude.”

  “Geez, don’t go all soft on me now.” Der tried to look contrite and humble at my words, an unsuccessful act. Against my better judgment, I decided to continue with my gratitude-and-apology-for being-such-a-pain-in-the-patootie speech.

  “And another thing, while I’m in the mood. I know you have good clothes. I just never see you in them. And I know you don’t buy your clothes from Sears. I know you have taste.”

  Der opened his jacket front and, turning the lining so that I could see, he displayed a Sears label stitched on the inside of the jacket. I couldn’t tell from his expression, but I hoped that he thought it was funny. Just then Guy burst in the door with a load of wood. He had something on his mind.

  “Tell me you’re being careful how much you’ll be involving Laura in this case, Der. She’s jumpy as hell already. Maybe she shouldn’t be involved at all.”

  Chapter 5

  I looked at Guy in astonishment. He knew how much helping Der with murder investigations meant to me, didn’t he?

  “Are you concerned with my safety, or are you worried I might spend less time involved with you and more time chasing leads?” I knew I was being unfair to him, but the words slipped out before I could call them back.

  “Children, children,” said Der. “Let’s not fight. What Guy’s trying to say is that you worry people. You have a bad habit of going off on your own like the Lone Ranger.”

  “I do not.” I did so.