Ask Not for Whom the Panther Prowls
a crime novella
Astor James Monroe
Disclaimer.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s deranged imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously. The mention of products, organizations, or software in the story is to move the drama along and add verisimilitude to the story. Mention of a product, organization or software should not be construed either as an endorsement or as a criticism of the products, organizations or software.
Copyright © 2014 by Astor James Monroe
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a review.
Smashwords Edition
This novella is the sequel to “Murder on G-Deck”
Table of Contents
Prolog.
1. Put Your Hand Up before You Die.
2. Presidential Action.
3. Argus Gets a Client.
4. Gate Crashing.
5. Fame is Fleeting.
6. Flaws in the Hood.
7. Hillbilly Heroin.
8. An Experiment in Basic Gravitational Physics.
9. Argus Gets a Paying Client.
10. The Ugly Past Raises Its Head.
11. It Happens.
12. Language Arts.
13. Lost and Found.
14. Return of the Chemist.
15. Graduate Admissions.
Epilog. A Housewarming.
Prolog.
They met in a dark staircase, in the evening just past dusk, in one of the apartment towers near Donghua university in Shanghai. The stale smell of dinners past filled the air, just barely overwhelming the sulfurous smell from the coal smog.
The young man said in his most desperate voice, “I need to do well on the TOEFL to enter Harvard. My parents could not live with the shame if I fail.”
The foreigner coughed from the smog then quietly replied, in his strongly accented and not quite mastered Cantonese, “The money, you it have?” By his build, he was unmistakably a foreigner, despite his smog mask, dark glasses and hat pulled down over his eyes. Even though he wore clothes from the local department store.
“Five thousand dollars?”
“Six. Cash. Now.”
“Here.”
The foreigner counted it. “You're short. Not enough. More.”
“It's all we have, we'll pay you. I promise.”
“No. Not enough for Harvard.”
“UGA then?”
“OK.” The foreigner pocked the money. He then gave the young man a written sheet with his gloved hand. “This instructions is. Understand?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Now forget you saw me.” He left down the stairs and out into the deepening fug. He had long a series of appointments to keep that evening before catching his plane home.
Shen Yi carefully read the sheet of paper he bought. It contained detailed instructions on how to log into a site using a virtual tunnel through the 'Great Firewall of China'. He could hardly wait, and once home fired up his laptop and got started.
The most beautiful girl he ever saw was on the screen when he logged in. She looked very much Chinese, for an American. He wasn't expecting that. He sat there, agog at her, his jaw dropped with amazement. She began to speak, “Do you want to start with the English practice?”
He stammered, in Cantonese, “Do you speak Chinese?”
“A little,” she then continued in English, “I'm adopted and my parents insisted I learn my culture's language. You're here to learn English aren't you?”
“You're very beautiful,” Yi, continued this time in English. She blushed. “Thank you.” She looked down at a paper on her desk and asked him, “The first question is 'what is the difference between to and too?'”
“One means also. Can you give me your email address so we can talk later?”
The girl paused, “I'm not allowed to tell you that.” She wrote something on a sheet of paper and held it up in front of the camera. Yi hastily wrote down her address. She continued, “The second question is give me an example of using too.”
“I like know if you are a college scholar too.”
“Very good, but it would be better to say, 'I would like to know if you are a college student too'.”
“I would like to know if you are a college student too.”
“That's excellent. And I would reply, 'I am, I am a student at Georgia State University'.”
“You are?”
“Yes. Where are you?”
“Donghua. I want to graduate study in Georgia.”
“Good, but 'Donghua, I want to do graduate study in Georgia', is correct”
“Donghua, I want to do graduate study at Georgia State University.”
The girl blushed again, Yi was a fast worker. He seemed nice enough, but coming halfway around the world after a couple of minutes of an online chat was a bit excessive. “Don't be silly.”
“What's silly about it? What is your name?”
“Jane.”
“Jane I think I you love.”
“Now you are really being silly. The right way to say it is 'Jane I think I love you', which you can't yet. We've just met.”
“Jane I know I love you.”
1. Put Your Hand Up before You Die.
Spring semester found me back practicing academic physics. While it was not quite as spiritually rewarding as chasing down a network of serial killers, my sudden death was a lot less likely when I was standing in the front of a classroom blathering away. Even with the new concealed carry law, the chance that a student would take it into his mind to create a vacancy in the physics department was remote. It was a fair swap, especially since Laura Brown and I had hooked up. Having a reason to stay alive changes your outlook on life. During summer, class breaks, and on the occasional evening, I still worked with Arthur Ellis, the head and sole full-time detective for Argus detectives. If I kept at it, I'd have my two years employment as a private detective and could become a certified private investigator. Given the status of funding and the way this university ran, that was looking more and more attractive each day. I'd drawn the short straw in the class assignment lottery for spring semester and was teaching PHYS 1101, non-calculus physics. Or as we liked to call it 'physics for poets'. It allowed the non-mathematical types to satisfy a science requirement for graduation, but far more importantly than that it brought credit hours and the tuition dollars that came with them to the department budget.
I'd finished lecturing a class of 50 freshmen and sophomores in Classroom South. They mostly sat there slumping in their seats almost as responsive as lumps of mud. Today's lot looked suitably glazed over, with their brains well cooked and at the limit of their endurance. While occasionally one would realize that this science stuff was interesting and worth the effort to learn it, there would be no such revelations today. One student in particular looked a bit more thoroughly glazed over than the rest. I told the class, “See you next time, and don't forget to at least try the homework.” which was followed by the bulk of them rising and running for the door. They were 'free at last'. The student who was particularly glazed over lifelessly dropped to the floor when he was jostled by the others. I ran to him, while someone screamed in the background. I shouted, “Call 911”, and watched as several students complied. Another student ran up, “I know first aid, CPR. Can I help?”
“You bet. Start on CPR while I go and get the AED from the hall.”
I dashed
out into the hall, then down it towards the center of the building where there were AED's mounted on the wall. The alarm on the AED holder was already screaming, with its blue flashing light indicating the EMT's were on their way. Someone had just removed the device. Two heart attacks at the same time on the same day was not an event the building's planners foresaw.
Racing back to the room, I found the student pumping away as hard as he could. He shouted at me, “Where is it?”
“Already in use. When you're ready I'll spell you.” For the next few minutes we alternated for a minute each at pumping on the student's chest. CPR is exhausting work and the two of us were nearly shot when the EMT's finally arrived. We'd been doing our best to match the beat of 'Stayin Alive' which happens to have the right tempo for CPR. Unfortunately it was more a case of 'Another One Bites the Dust' which also has the correct tempo.
EMT's aren't allowed to declare a patient as dead, but it was pretty clear that after a few minutes of their hard work, there wasn't much hope for the student. As they were leaving I heard one say to the others, “Funny, that's the tenth one this week.” His friend replied, “Wonder what they're taking?”
It had been a while since GSU had a serious drug problem. Most of the students worked part-time to pay for college and didn't have the time or inclination to spend it high. Those that had the time tended to favor beer. It was cheaper.
2
That night at dinner Laura noticed I was distant. Ms. Laura Brown, former assistant DA for the city of Atlanta and now a rising star among the state prosecutors and I, decided to get married. As she now had full custody of her son, I was going to be an acting stepfather. It seemed wise to move in a bit ahead of time and let her six year old son Daniel get used to me. “Will, what happened?”
“Lost a student.”
“You don't usually get upset when one drops your class.”
“Hardy,” I laughed, “No, it wasn't that. He died from heart failure at the end of class.” At least that's when we found out about it. He could have been dead for a few minutes before without my noticing it. That thought only made it worse.
She grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “That's awful.”
“I didn't think my lectures were that boring.”
“I'm sure they're not.”
Danny had a different take on things. By age six, he'd seen his parents divorced, then had his stepmother reject him when his father was put on trial. His father organized an embezzlement ring with murderous consequences at the university research foundation. Mind you, his biological father had just doped Danny's stepmother preparatory to chopping her up for smoked ribs and was extending his family in several directions sideways at the time. So she wasn't completely unjustified in dumping Danny back into Laura's lap. My relationship with Danny wasn't helped by the fact that it was my efforts that put his biological father in prison. We had our good days and our not so good days. This was one of the not so good days. I was getting the silent treatment until he spoke.
“They are too.”
It was going to be interesting living as a new family.
3
Next morning I text messaged my TA. We had to discuss what happened yesterday in class and figure out a plan to deal with it for the next lecture. He showed up at my office and we talked about how to handle the death in a respectful and professional manner. I vetoed the ideas of talking about the heart as a pump and measuring the electrical impulses from its muscles. While those aspects of biophysics would be interesting, the timing just wasn't right. It would have to be an emotional and forthright discussion about feelings.
Since neither of us was particularly skilled at social or emotional intelligence this promised to be difficult and I was looking through the university website to see if there were counselors who could help the class. While we were searching, the undergraduate who helped me with CPR knocked on my door.
Even though he was one of the more alert ones, with 50, well now of 49 students I hadn't learned his name yet.
“Dr. Sharpe?”
“Hi, I'm sorry, I don't quite remember your name, but thank you for helping yesterday. It's a shame it didn't work.”
“Steve Jordan, well,” he paused, “we did our best. When I took CPR they warned us it didn't usually work.”
“Steve, I'm sure you've seen my TA and graduate student Tom.”
“Yo.”
“Anyway, the student who collapsed, did you know him?”
“Same scout troop. We were buddies.”
“I'm sorry. Did he have health problems?”
“No, we just did Philmont last summer. 100 miles in a week and a half at 8000 feet. Couldn't have gone if he had a weak heart.”
“He wasn't doing any drugs? Cocaine will sometimes do things like this.”
“Sam, no. He was a straight arrow. Wouldn't even drink a beer.”
“So nothing unusual?”
“Nah, he was even earning extra money by tutoring foreign students with their English. Great guy.”
“I'm sorry.”
“He'll be missed.”
2. Presidential Action.
The deaths of so many students was cause for consternation to the upper echelons of university administration. The president, Dr. Andrew Pace, the one faculty member whose salary approached that of the football coach, called a private emergency meeting with the provost, Dr. Alice James, the deans and the university legal counsel, Mr. David Wilcox. They met on the third floor of Dahlberg hall in a conference room off of the main corridor. A long reddish mahogany table ran from one end of the room to the other. It was surrounded by comfortable leather office chairs, and was the room routinely used for policy discussions and faculty senate committee meetings.
Carefully coiffed with an expensive haircut and a sharp Italian suit to match, the president firmly shut and locked the two doors to the room.
“Gentleman” He began, “are your cell phones off? There will be no record of this meeting.”
He waited while his audience checked their cells, put them on the table in front of them, and then continued.
“Too many of our students are dying for unknown reasons. If this gets out into the press, especially after that lurid series of murders last year, 'Tech and UGA will see that we're shut down. Both Georgia Southern and Kennesaw are gunning to replace us as a research university. Gentlemen, and Dr. Pace, our collective asses are on the line.”
Dr. Pace said, “What are we going to do about it?”
After a few minutes discussion, the president said, “There is this detective agency I've used. They're very discreet. Keep their mouth firmly shut.”
2
Arthur Ellis gave me a call. “Will, are you busy?”
“I could make some time.” Anything to avoid grading papers.
“Great, I need you to go to someplace at GSU as Argus's representative.”
“Sounds like fun, where?”
“330 Dahlberg Hall? Know where that is?”
“I can find it. What's the problem?”
“I don't know. I'd go myself, but I'm over past Panola Mountain on a stakeout and it would be impossible to get to GSU this afternoon. Traffic's bad. The thing sound's a bit fishy since the man I talked to wouldn't give me his name or any details over the phone. He said we'd met in the past. Had his secretary call me first, so he's pretty high up in the administration.”
“I guess someone in administration has been stepping out lately and needs some help.”
“Probably. It wouldn't be the first time. Oh, and Will?”
“Yes?”
“Make sure you take your recorder along. We'll need a record of the meeting.”
“Especially if it's supposed to be off the record.”
“Yup. Let me know what's up when it's over.”
I found my way to 330 Dahlberg. It didn't exactly strain my powers of detection as I'd been there before. The door was locked, but when I knocked it opened. The dean of the college of arts and sciences looked out. I b
owed and said.
“Argus Detective agency at your service.”
“Where?”
“Here.”
“You?”
“I'm the vice president of the company.”
The dean reluctantly opened the door and let me in. If I hadn't already developed a second career option I'd have been seriously troubled to see the president, the provost and several deans staring at me. The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. As it was I produced my detectives license and business card.
“Aren't you Dr. Sharpe from physics?”
“Yes.”
Dr. Pace frowned at the dean of my college. “He's one of yours, isn't he. Can we trust him?”
“I suppose so.”
“But still using a professor. One of ours. Couldn't we at least get someone from 'Tech. Someone good?”
“It could have its advantages.”
“Should we tell him?”
I interjected, “Look folks, I'm here as a representative of Argus detectives. I've filed my conflict of interest paperwork about it with the university. It was approved. Please don't waste my time.”
This brought them to a decision.
“It's just we've been losing students. I mean, they've been dying. It's affecting our recruiting.”
“I know, one of the students was in my class. I gave him CPR. Is there any reason to believe the deaths are related, or the result of criminal activity?”
“No.”
“Then what do you want Argus to do?”
My dean answered, “Make sure it stays that way.”
“Are you sure you understand what you're saying? We can find evidence, that's all. We turn it over to the police or the courts. We don't hide things. It could cost us our license even if we didn't end up in jail.”
Dr. Pace hastily replied, “No, that's not what we want. We need you to give us a heads up, a warning if it is criminal.”
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