Death by Dissertation
Page 26
My knees suddenly gave way beneath me, and I slid bumpily down the shelves until I was sitting on the floor. Rob stood like an avenging fury over his prey, and I pulled off my glasses and wiped across my sweaty face with an ice- cold hand.
“Thanks,” I tried to say, but my throat was dry and bruised, so what came out sounded totally different. I had a sudden strong urge to start giggling, though it wouldn’t have done much for the pounding in my head.
“You’re more than welcome,” Rob said wryly. “Are you all right?”
Just then Maggie came into view, followed by two campus cops, both waving flashlights. The big beefy men were not the same officers I had encountered earlier in the week.
“What’s going on here?” one of them barked, as they pushed Maggie and Rob out of the way.
Slowly I stood up, then pointed down at Dan, still out cold at my feet. One of the officers shone his light down on him. “The man on the floor tried to strangle me.” I then gestured toward Rob. “If it hadn’t been for him, I’d probably be dead by now.”
Rob nodded in confirmation. “You need to keep an eye on him, Officer,” he said, pointing down at Dan. “We think this is the man who is responsible for the murders here on campus.”
“Is that so?” the policeman responded. Motioning for us to step away, he stooped over Dan and checked him out, while the other officer used his radio to contact campus police headquarters.
Maggie, Rob, and I were all relieved to hear that Lieutenant Herrera was on the way. The campus cop looked like he wanted to lock us all up.
Dan, who was coming around, began muttering and cursing. The officers got him on his feet and marched him out of the storage room, ordering Maggie, Rob, and me to follow. Rob had his arm around me, for which I was thankful. I still felt a little weak in the knees. As we headed up the stairs to the first-floor foyer, Maggie told me that she had brought the campus police down to the basement. Rob had figured that Dan would try to get to the emergency exit if he couldn’t make it to the front entrance of the library. Even if Maggie and the cops hadn’t found us so quickly, I wasn’t that worried. Rob was obviously more than a match for Dan. And I might have managed to get out of the situation myself. A quick knee to the crotch would probably have done the trick—if I had thought of it at the time, that is, I told myself ruefully.
There we all stood, in the brightly lit foyer of the library, waiting for Herrera. I glanced down at myself and realized what a sorry sight I must be, sweaty, smelly, and grimy. Nobody had cleaned those rooms in the basement in decades, to judge by the dust I had picked up. Rob and Maggie, of course, looked cool as proverbial cucumbers. Dan stood there stoically, his eyes closed, as if he might be trying to shut out everything. Passersby goggled at us, but no one said anything.
Lieutenant Herrera arrived, accompanied by a couple of uniformed HPD officers and two more campus policemen. He began the business of sorting out what went on. Dan remained quiet, refusing to speak until he could talk to a lawyer. Herrera and the officers from HPD conferred and decided to take us all downtown for questioning, where we spent six dreary and tiring hours.
After our mind-numbing visit to police headquarters, Maggie, Rob, and I were ready for something to eat. Back at my apartment, I enjoyed a luxuriously hot shower and changed clothes while Maggie and Rob ordered pizza. While we waited for the pizza, we broke out the wine in celebration. Though we were worn out from the events of the day, we were mightily relieved that the worst of it was over. We felt sorry in a way for Dan, though we abhorred what he had done for the sake of his career. No academic job, not even Harvard, was worth two murders.
The delivery man arrived quickly, for which he got a generous tip, and we happily gorged ourselves on pizza. None of us felt like talking. I certainly, for once in my life, felt talked out. Those six hours at the police station had been brutal. Not to mention the fact that my throat was sore.
I was burping contentedly over my fifth slice of pizza when the doorbell rang. “I'll get it,” I offered, lumbering slowly to my feet.
I figured it was probably Bella, with Bruce in tow, hot to find out the juicy details, but I was surprised. At the door, looking tired but pleased, was Lieu-tenant Herrera.
“Mind if I come in?” he asked. “I promise this isn’t an official visit.”
“Sure,” I responded, standing aside to let him in. “Come on into the kitchen,” I invited. “We re finally having dinner. Would you like some pizza? I think there’s some left.”
“Thanks,” he replied, slipping off his jacket and laying it across his arm. “I haven’t had dinner yet myself.”
He followed me to the kitchen, and Rob and Maggie fell silent when they realized who the visitor was.
Herrera nodded in friendly fashion at them, and I motioned for him to take the seat across from Rob. “Wine?” I asked him as I retrieved another glass from the cupboard.
“Don’t mind if I do,” he replied, helping himself to a slice of pizza. “I’m finally off duty for the evening.” He chewed for a moment, then took a long sip of wine. He loosened his tie and took another sip from his wineglass. “That’s much better,” he announced, smiling at us.
Maggie and I smiled back at him, but Rob continued to watch him warily.
“I know you’re wondering,” Herrera said, “why I came here, after we all spent so much time together today.” He grinned, and I could see why Maggie had found him attractive. Relaxed and friendly, he was handsome and personable.
He took another bite of pizza, and we waited politely for him to continue. He wiped his mouth and said, “We’ve charged Dan Erickson for both murders.”
“That’s a relief,” Rob said, his eyes still intently on Herrera’s face. “Did he finally confess?”
“No, but with what Andy told me, and other evidence we collected, I think we have more than enough to make a strong case against him.” He paused for more wine. “By the way, had you seen what was on that second videotape you gave me?”
Both Rob and I shook our heads.
“That second tape,” Herrera explained, “was much like the first, with one exception. It seems that Whitelock was bisexual,” he continued, “because a tall, blond man featured very prominently on that second tape. And that blond man had a distinctive tattoo on a certain part of his anatomy. By coincidence, Dan Erickson has the same tattoo on the same part of his anatomy.”
Rob’s face probably mirrored the shock on mine. Maggie kept her eyes firmly directed toward something on the far wall, and I couldn’t read her expression.
That locked the last piece of the puzzle into place. Dan had to have something to force Whitelock into going along with his plan to use Dunbar’s dissertation, and the games they played together had given him the leverage he needed.
“Besides that,” Herrera added, “Erickson had a small cut on the index finger of his right hand, and I’ll just bet you that when we match his blood to some blood found on the second murder weapon, we’ll have him sewed up tight.”
My mind quickly fastened on an image from Whitelock’s office, the morning that Rob and I had found his body. I remembered the sun glinting on that ashtray, and I remembered seeing a smear of what looked like blood on one of its edges, near a nick in the glass. I guess Dan had left a trail behind him.
“Thank God it’s all over,” Rob said, relaxing in his chair for the first time since Herrera had come into the room. “But why the hell”—his voice had suddenly turned savage—“did you put us through all that nonsense about Charlie’s will? Did you really think Andy and I killed him?”
Herrera shrugged, not offended by the heat in Rob’s voice. “Hey, in my job, you have to work all the angles. I sure thought you were a strong possibility for the first murder. But you had a good alibi for the second one.” He grinned hugely at Maggie, and she dimpled back at him. “I was pretty confident that the same person murdered both men, and if you couldn’t have done the second one, I thought it let you off for the first one. But I couldn�
��t take any chances.” Herrera took another big bite of pizza. He chewed for a moment, swallowed, and wiped his mouth with the napkin. “Besides, stirring up the pot a little certainly didn’t hurt. I would have got there in the end, I think, but you put some of the evidence together faster than I could. Those folks up on the fifth floor were more likely to talk to you than they were to me. I figured you might get some of the good dirt that they’d never tell me.” He grinned again. “But I think you should retire from the detective business from now on. You could get hurt.” He nodded in my direction.
Rob just shook his head. He was still angry with Herrera, but I could understand the lieutenant’s point of view, in a way.
Herrera stood up. “All of this has been off the record, of course.”
“Of course,” I responded, standing up also.
He looked across the table at Maggie. “Could we talk for a minute?” His voice was soft, almost pleading, quite a different tone from any I had heard him use before.
She stared back at him and stood up. “Sure, why not? Why don’t we go into the next room, though?”
Rob and I watched as the two of them left the kitchen. Moments later, we could hear the rumble of low-voiced conversation.
“Well,” Rob mused, “wonder what that’s all about?”
“I bet he’s asking her out,” I laughed. “And I’ll bet you she accepts.”
“You gotta be kidding!” Rob was flabbergasted. “After what he put us through?”
“Oh, come on, you didn’t see the way they were looking at each other? Batting eyelashes like it was mating season at the zoo?”
Rob just shook his head. “Then she’s welcome to him, if that’s what she wants.”
“Oh,” I said, “Maggie always knows what she wants. And she usually gets it.”
“Good for her,” Rob said, amused. “But what about me? Do I get what I want?”
“That depends,” I said. “What do you want?”
“Oh,” Rob said airily, “a certain ditzy blond who seems to have a knack for getting into trouble.” He took a step closer to me.
My world had shifted quickly over the past week. Having Rob this near me set my pulse racing, and my heart had taken over from my head. I wanted him now as much as I ever had. The intrusion of murder into our lives had probably put certain things into perspective much faster than would have happened otherwise. Hanging on to my anger didn’t seem so important any longer. It was time for me to take some chances. Rob was waiting for an answer.
“Oh, yeah?” I said. How clever of me. I swallowed hard. “Thanks, by the way, for saving my life.”
“You’re welcome.” He took another step closer.
“My hero,” I said.
“If you’ll be mine,” he said. Then he kissed me.
Also by Dean James
Cat in the Stacks Mysteries
(writing as Miranda James)
Murder Past Due
Classified for Murder
File M for Murder
Out of Circulation
The Silence of the Library
Deep South Mysteries
Cruel as the Grave
Closer than the Bones
Death by Dissertation
Bridge Club Mysteries
(writing as Honor Hartman)
On The Slam
The Unkindest Cut
Trailer Park Mysteries
(writing as Jimmie Ruth Evans)
Flamingo Fatale
Murder Over Easy
Best Served Cold
Bring Your Own Poison
Leftover Dead
Simon Kirby-Jones Mysteries
Posted to Death
Faked to Death
Decorated to Death
Baked to Death
Nonfiction
The Robert B. Parker Companion
By a Woman’s Hand
Killer Books
The Dick Francis Companion
About the Author
Dean James, a seventh-generation Mississippian, is a librarian and Edgar-nominated author of over twenty works of fiction and nonfiction. His nonfiction has won both the Agatha Award and the prestigious Macavity Award. Writing as Miranda James, he is the New York Times bestselling author of the Cat in the Stacks series, featuring librarian Charlie Harris and his trusty rescue cat Diesel. He is also the author of The Trailer Park Mysteries, writing as Jimmie Ruth Evans and the Bridge Club Mysteries, writing as Honor Hartman. As Dean James, he’s authored The Deep South Mystery Series and The Simon Kirby-Jones Mysteries. He lives in Houston, Texas, with two cats and thousands of books.
See his website to discover even more!