Corpse in the Campus

by Harry Glum

  That somewhat impertinent correction, though true, provoked a brief uncomfortable period of silence. The police chief, tested and sensible did not take this as anything personal.

  —Of course, Gordon. That is our responsibility. I am giving the acquaintances version, and that’s it. It is clear that somebody must have hated her, and that person hated her enough to desire her death... and to make those desires come true.

  —That takes us to think especially of her boyfriend, that is Mark Walton —pointed out one of the agents.

  —Yes, that is true. But we must be very careful. After what has happened with Simpson, we can’t goof up again. Now the judge is going to be reluctant to okay any of our movements. And we are lucky that for now the press has not decided to pour out their attention on this case. If they do, we will be much more limited.

  Karen couldn’t stop rethinking that the body had no signs of violent aggression. It was something that was abnormal, and that had to have a well founded explanation. Suddenly it very much dawned on her.

  —Oh Lord, I have just thought of a possibility that we haven’t considered yet.

  —Were all ears, Karen—said the chief of police, knowing that he could expect either total silence or some kind of intelligent reflection from her as an agent. Many times he had wondered how the devil she had stayed there in Cedar Falls instead of moving to Chicago to advance in training and find a place where she could let loose her infinite capacities to advance on the job.

  —It’s not a matter of ruling out the hypothesis that some friend, or even boyfriend, and we don’t even know the possible motive, were to kill her. But I see very little anger in this crime. There is very little emotional involvement. I don’t know if I am making myself clear.

  —Crystal clear. Go on please.

  —Well, what if the person that killed her was a person that had a certain amount of authority over her? That is someone that she would not resist because supposedly nothing bad could come from that kind of person.

  —A professor?—asked Ron, intrigued and fascinated by the idea.

  —Yes, a professor or even a police agent...

  Patrick Thomas couldn’t avoid taking a couple of steps backwards. He would never have come up with that kind of monstrosity, even though he did know very well how cruel and mean a perturbed individual could be.

  —One of our own?

  —Not necessarily. Someone that has come from far away, from Rochester, for example, even from Minneapolis... It wouldn’t be the first time a police officer takes advantage of his status in order to commit a crime, knowing that the victim will be vulnerable to him.

  —I’m not going to rule it out, Karen, but it’s hard for me to conceive of it. I prefer to consider that it could be a professor that is obsessed with the girl and that the matter got out of hand —mumbled the police chief, who was still a little shocked.

  —It seems equally shocking sir —suggested Ron, that now couldn’t stop mulling over this possibility and that was envious of his colleague Karen’s imaginative capacity.

  Stevens had been listening in silence, absorbing the information, as if it had been filtering through his pores and had been getting to his brain in electric shock waves. He admired agent Phillips, and here was evidence that that devotion had a solid foundation. For the first time since the beginning of the meeting he was feeling strangely euphoric.

  —This campus has security, doesn’t it?

  —Yes, of course. It has 4 security guards, two of which work on each shift by weeks. Two of them work the day shift and the other two the night shift —answered the police chief immediately.

  —Has anyone interrogated them?

  Nobody answered the question. Impressive silence set in on the room as if it were to remind everyone that they weren’t prepared to take on an investigation of these proportions, and they would need to make a much greater effort if they really wanted to find the killer as soon as possible.

  —Gordon, let’s not torture ourselves any more. It’s evident that it’s not the case and nobody has done it. The majority of us know those persons, we have been working with them for years, and if it had not been for Karen’s comment, I would never have thought of suspecting of any of the four... And I think I am speaking for all —said Ron, adopting a candid attitude in order to search for possible suspects.

  —In that case we should interrogate them, even if it is only to rule them out. Right now I can’t think of any suspects that can be any more consistent than them.

  IX

  They had decided to interrogate the security guards both at once. It just so happened that the same two security guards, Mike Johnson and Tom Campbell had been on duty not only the day Sarah Brown had disappeared, but also in the early morning hours in which she had been murdered. They were rotating shifts and changed every Friday. It could just be a coincidence, but it was worth looking into.

  In one room Ron and an agent that had come from the sheriff’s office as a special reinforcement were with Mike Johnson, while Gordon and Karen were doing the same with Tom Campbell. The idea was that both Davies and Philips be accompanied in the interrogation by someone who had a close relationship with the security guards, and this way they didn’t lose objectivity.

  Johnson and Campbell went voluntarily to the local police station and were very cooperative at all times. Their versions of what had happened on Thursday and early Saturday morning coincided except as to minor details. Thursday had been a calm day, and nothing had called his attention until very late that evening. It was then that some students had called on them, because they said that one of the girls was missing. They went over to Prime Falls Apartments and talked with several youths. Mark Walton, Sarah’s boyfriend was very nervous, but they didn’t think anything of it. They didn’t worry too much that a university student should be missing: it was pretty common for someone to be missing some friend or acquaintance for one or two days, and for that person to reappear later, saying that they had had a great time at Dubuque, Cedar Rapids, Davenport or even at Chicago. After all, they were university students. Everybody knew that they were a little crazy, though of age.

  On Friday, they were informed that the police had taken up the matter and that the girl’s parents had been brought to Cedar Falls. This matter was getting serious. They went on duty Friday night, and the night shift had nothing unusual except for a minor matter that they had not reported on, since they did not consider it significant: around two thirty they were near Gallagher Bluedorn at the intersection between Campus and University Avenue when they thought they heard some kind of firecracker. Both of them thought it was some kind of prankster that was coming back from some party, and was going on with his partying.

  None of them had known Sarah Brown personally, nor had they even remembered seeing her. She had been on the campus for a short time and she hadn’t been a popular person, nor had she caused any problems nor had she really stood out in any way. Both security guards had clean records and good references, so after two hours of questioning they allowed them to leave.

  Immediately after the questioning, Karen, Ron, and Gordon were in what they grandiosely but effectively came to call the operations center. The operations center was no other place but the small meeting room in Cedar Falls local police station with its blackboard and bulletin board with its dozens of little pieces of papers pinned on by thumbtacks.

  —I think we’ve got the exact hour that Sarah was murdered —said Davies, unable to hide a certain degree of satisfaction.

  —Its true, Ron, but we don’t have anything else —replied Gordon, who had trusted that they could have gotten some more out of the security guards.

  —How about going over the case once more? —asked Philips, moving to the blackboard with a marker.

  —Perfect —answered the detective that wished for the detective to illuminate him with some brilliant idea.

  —I think that we do have a lot of things already. Starting with the exact hour of death, as Ron ha
s said. We know that Sarah was seen the last time on Thursday March 6th in the morning, and nobody had had any more news from her after that. We know that someone, a person in authority, retained her for 40 hours. We know that they killed her with a 22 caliber gun. And she was probably shot in the same place her body was found, or very close to that place. There was no sexual aggression. There was no more violence.

  Davies sat there looking at the blackboard, proud of his colleague and amazed at the speed and orderliness with which he had noted down details that he could have taken a couple of hours to record halfway decently.

  —It’s a good starting point, isn’t it Gordon?

  Stevens puffed, as if he wanted to release all the air he had in his ample thorax. He looked at the Board and looked straight at the floor.

  —I don’t want to screw your evening guys, but I think we don’t have one damn thing. I think we are practically at square one, and this investigation is getting more and more complicated moment by moment.

  X

  The Black Hawk County Sheriff’s Office detective had made a bull’s-eye: over two weeks after Sarah’s dead body had been found among the trees on the south edge of the University of Northern Iowa campus the investigation seemed to be at a dead end.

  They had studied the victims closest friends alibis including that of the boyfriend, Mark Walton, who at first seemed to have the odds against him, and likely to be the prime suspect. It turned out that all of them seemed to have solid alibis for Thursday March 6th, which was the day the girl had disappeared. They had also analyzed the movements of violent delinquents on record in Cedar Falls, Waterloo and other neighboring towns for those days. There was no result.

  In a desperate move, they had dug a little into the lives of professors having something to do with the victim, searching for any abnormal behavior, or that was conspicuous, that could take them towards a new line of investigation, and even in this there was no result.

  Total depression and impotence began to set in on the team that Patrick Thomas had put together, and he was conscious of the situation. If it took just a few days more without any notable progress, he would have to ask for the state police help or even some support from the FBI, even though he knew that they weren’t around for nothing cases like that. Having to deal with the Brown family every single day was wearing him down much more than he had imagined in his worst nightmares. Those parents deserved an answer, and they deserved for justice to be done. He knew well that that would never compensate for the terrible loss of their daughter in the prime of life, but at least it would help some for the wound to close. An unsolved crime is an open wound that is oozing constantly and letting off painful puss that wears down ones soul and guts, and likewise with all those related to them.

  —Sir, we have a call. They seem to have found something.

  The police chief nearly jumped out of his seat. Susan, his secretary had jerked him suddenly out of his reflections and he felt as someone had woken him from the middle of a stressful dream.

  —Something? Whom?

  —I don’t know. They want to talk directly with you. I think they are those people from Mason City—answered his assistant a little doubtfully.

  —Okay. Get in touch with the agent that is with them, and put the call through to me, please.

  Patrick Thomas remembered that shallow depth metal prospecting and under terrain radar Study Company located at Mason City, which was some eighty miles northwest of Cedar Falls that had offered in a disinterested way to cooperate in the investigation and to supply the police with two of their men and part of their state of the art equipment. They were shocked by what had happened on the campus, and believed that they should get involved. He had ordered that one of his department´s agents accompany them at all times while they were on the campus.

  After a couple of minutes, he had Brad on the other side of the line. He was the agent that was there that day to be with those peculiar people that Patrick expected so little results from.

  —What happened?

  —Sir, these people have found a gun halfway buried. It´s a 22 caliber, and it doesn´t seem to be much deteriorated nor does it seem to have been left there for a very long time.

  The police chief took a deep breath. Maybe that was their stroke of luck that they needed to start to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

  —Where have you found it?

  —You´re not going to believe it —answered the agent, who surely was also awestruck.

  —Hell, Brad. Spit it out —said Thomas, using language not too appropriate for him, which only reflected his attack of nerves.

  —In the same cluster of trees we found the body in. A little further south, almost at Greenhill Road.

  —The hell with it, Brad! We´re all a bunch of incompetent fools —exclaimed the police chief, as he pounded on the table with his right fist, trying to get rid of all that rage and guilt that filled him completely.

  XI

  Gordon Stevens was waiting nervously to get ballistic results. The 22 caliber gun that had been found near the place Sarah Brown´s cadaver had been found was in good shape and it was speculated that it had been half buried there between two and six weeks, which was compatible with the time frame for the crime. Unfortunately, the gun was clean, and they weren´t able to get any fingerprint from it.

  —I wish things could be like on those damn TV series —mumbled the detective as he drummed with his fingers on the table to calm his anxiety.

  —Okay, Gordon, calm down. We´re going to know sooner or later if that was the gun used to kill Sarah, and from there onward we´ll be able to unravel the case —said Karen, who was just as addicted as Ron to those programs. She was seated across from the detective going over transcriptions of interrogations they had been involved in.

  —Thanks —murmured Stevens, in a tone hardly audible to her.

  Philips beamed back at him with the best of smiles.

  —Thanks? You´ve got to be kidding.

  —Seriously, Karen. You are an exceptional agent and you´re doing a great job. You act like a real investigator... Hell and I tell you! You´re acting like an authentic detective that has years of experience.

  The agent couldn´t avoid blushing a little. She was accustomed to compliments from her colleagues, but not from someone she esteemed so much, that also really knew what he has talking about.

  —I don´t know. You already know that I like this job. I have attended dozens of courses, I see all those series that you seem to detest and I read books every week. Maybe this case is putting my supposed knowledge to the test —she replied, trying to be humble, but avoiding false modesty.

  —Why are you still here?

  Karen dropped the reports she was holding, or maybe it was just accidental.

  —Are you really seriously asking me...?

  —Yes, of course. I think you have talent, really. You could be in some big city. I already can see you as not just a detective, but a sergeant, or a lieutenant in some big department like Kansas City or Chicago.

  —Cedar Falls is my home. I was born here, and I´ve grown up here. My husband works here and I am raising my children here. I can´t imagine a better life anywhere else.

  The detective contemplated Karen´s large and expressive eyes. She was being absolutely sincere with him. In spite of everything, he couldn´t quite understand her. He couldn´t understand how she herself could place such a low ceiling for her own possibilities.

  —Alright. I accept it. But it is really a pity.

  —Gordon, why don´t you find some fabulous woman and start a family with her?

  Stevens was suddenly paralyzed. He wasn´t going to answer that question. He didn´t neither feel the strength nor was in the mood to explain to Karen that the idea terrified him. He had had bad experiences in the past and he had decided to turn into a lone wolf in life. He was too sad and ridiculous.

  —I think I´m going to take a walk and get some fresh air. I need to breathe and stretch my le
gs.

  The agent made it obvious that she didn´t have an answer to his question, and rested her eyes once more on the stack of papers that were awaiting her on the table.

  —However you wish. I´ll be expecting you here. When you come back, I´ll tell you if there´s anything interesting that we may have overlooked.

  —Great —said the detective, trying to get out of the subject like a student that has been caught doing what he shouldn´t.

  Gordon left the offices of the department, and went out to Clay Street. Just as he was doing so, he thought that the idea of going out for some fresh air had been an excuse to get out, and avoid Karen´s question. However, it was going to be good for both his his body and mind. Just seeing a few boys playing football on the green lawns just in front of the department gave him total relaxation. He remembered his high school years, when he still dreamed of being a good NFL quarterback.

  Suddenly the squealing brakes of a rundown ranch back car that had parked practically by his side overtook him. He thought that only a madman could do that, so he headed to the passenger´s door pretty angrily.

  —What the devil do you think you´re doing! Children cross here, and we are right in front of the police department....

  Stevens was not able to go on with his angry speech, because he saw an elderly man sitting at the wheel. He had scarce hair, he was extremely thin, and he was sobbing like a child.

  —I´m sorry, I´m sorry. It´s so terrible. I´m really sorry—said the man as he got out of the car and plunged into the detective´s arms.

  —Calm down. What´s wrong?

  —I’ve got to go to the police. It´s my duty, it´s horrible, but it´s my duty. I´ve got to report something that´s terrible.

  Gordon felt a solid punch again in the stomach, and the pain from the deepest of his guts came back again. He pulled out his badge and showed it to the man who was holding on to his shoulders to avoid breaking down.