by Kevin Guest
He used a laser pointer to focus the group’s attention. “On the right, you will see the main house. This is the Sharp residence. James Sharp, of the Sharp-Hughes Tool Company, began the construction of this house, but never saw it finished. He was killed, allegedly by his secretary, who was also his mistress.
“Following his death, Mrs. Sharp sold her fifty percent of the company and remained in New York. Her eldest son, James Sharp, Jr., was given the property to complete and reside in.”
Anderson pointed to some of the other buildings. “Junior completed the estate, but unfortunately when the stock market crashed in 1929, Junior’s investments were hit hard. He and his wife did not recover from this hit, and sank deeper in debt as time went on.
“As their finances continued to suffer, they took additional actions to deal with their overwhelming debt. In the end, they blamed the death of James Senior for the family losses, stating, ‘The sins of the father will revisit the son.’
“There were several employees working the property. They reported seeing less and less of Sharp and his wife as their wealth declined. From time to time, they appeared, almost magically, in the barn, five hundred feet from the house.
“Over time, the banks and lenders grew tired of waiting for the back payments. After many extensions, the lenders lost faith in the Sharps. They sent notices of foreclosure and threats of eviction, but they would go unanswered.
“Sticking only to the facts, to this day, the Red Oak police remain unsure as to how it all played out, but Junior was found in the barn, dead by hanging, and his wife was slumped over at the kitchen table, dead by poisoning.
“It was reported that there was no heir to the estate, but it would not have mattered. The property fell to the lenders, who then sold it to the county.”
Anderson looked at the council. He was pleased to see he had not lost their attention. “That in itself would make the house worth investigating, but there’s more. A man named Jonathan Maybrick leased the barn on the left and turned it into a funeral home.”
One of the council members rolled his eyes. Anderson addressed him. “Dean Shultz, you cannot make this stuff up.”
Shultz looked at him. “I know the story. The legend of Reindeer Manor and the deaths of the morgue are common knowledge. The real issue is the use of cash. You may step outside and the board will discuss your request.”
Anderson was bit disappointed at being cut short, but he nodded and left the room.
After Anderson left, the group whispered amongst themselves. The large amount of money was a sticking point for the council. After a few moments Dean Shultz stood. “We are at a crossroads with this professor. He has taken our psychology department down an unusual road. I am concerned that our students are not receiving a proper education. However, the funds are available for Dr. Anderson by right. He has generously given up parts of his budget in the past to support other departments, so I feel compelled to vote yes on his proposal, though it may be the last time I ever vote yes for one of his projects again.”
Outside, Anderson went over everything he had talked about in his head. He began preparing himself for additional questions and even an argument. He had not asked for a substantial amount of money in years, and other departments asked for funds regularly.
Half an hour later, he once again stood before the council. Dean Shultz, head of the council, addressed him. “We have approved this project and its funds. However, you will not be allowed to choose the three assistants. You may take your secretary with you since she has assisted you with other projects. For the remaining assistants, we will conduct an intensive search for the proper candidates. The council has decided your group will consist of an additional psychologist, a medium, and an observer with no skills in psychology. Those three will write independent reports for the council; you will not be allowed to view them until the council feels this project is at an end. Are we agreed?”
Anderson was more than delighted, “Yes sir, however, I would ask that the nature of this project be kept secret. I don’t want the team to have any knowledge of where they’re going. They shall go under this agreement or not at all.”
The dean had an additional requirement. “You will also keep this project out of the media and out of police station, do you understand?”
Anderson nodded. “That seems fair.”
The dean continued, “Since you want the project details classified from the assistants, then you shall write the advertisement for the candidates.”
“Yes sir.”
The dean sighed, worried about what was to come. “This council is adjourned.”
Anderson could not have asked for a more receptive group of people. As he walked back to his office, he saw Mary leaving for lunch. “When you return, cancel my afternoon classes; a new project is afoot!”
She smiled, “Yes sir.” He was a giddy as a schoolgirl.
FROM: The Office of Dr. Anderson
University Chair, Psychology Department
TO: All Students and Facility
