The death of Lyle Clements had set certain wheels in motion.
Among them, the ringing of my phone at seven in the morning.
The ringing of the phone had pulled me from my much needed sleep.
I recognized the voice on the other end as Bob.
“Yeah what you want at this hour of the morning?” I grumbled as I pushed back the blankets and tried to sit up in bed.
“Caption wants you up here first thing this morning.”
“The caption, what's he want with me?” I tried to make some sense out of the request which was more of an order while I tried to wake up.
“Just get your ass down here. Oh and bring Brenda too. My Office.” he hung up.
I sat staring at the buzzing receiver. Putting it on the hook, and I reached for Brenda.
She grumbled at being woke up so early. But I explained the summons. It didn't take us long to get dressed.
Within an hour we were on our way to the station.
I parked the packard in front of the station and we went in the front door. The walk up to the third floor seemed longer than usual. I had this feeling of being called to the principal's office. That I’d done something wrong and didn't know what.
We approached the door of Bob's office slowly. I hadn’t been worried about seeing Bob since I was seventeen, and had just shot a kid in self defense.
We stood just out of sight of the door listening. Voices could be heard. I swallowed hard a couple of times, took Brenda's hand and I knocked on the frame of the open door.
“Come in.” Bob didn't look up.
To my relief, he was the only one in the small office.
“Bob,..”
He cut me off with a look. I just stared at him.
He picked up a stack of files and stood up,and motioned us to follow him. We stepped out of the way so he could get around and out the door. I knew where the captions office was but we went the opposite direction.
It dawned on me suddenly we were heading for the District Attorney's office. This was not good. I had worked with him last year and while eventually we got along I knew he didn't like me.
The DA’s office was on the fourth floor.
The DA’s secretary nodded to Bob as we came to the outer office.
“Go right in.” I instantly knew there was going to be hell to pay, and I’d probably be the one paying it.
The door opened and we walked in.
The District Attorney was standing behind his desk. To his left was the Captain. And further in the room was another man.
I hung back with Brenda as Bob went in first.
Introductions were made all around. The DA and I knew each other, as did the Caption and I. So Brenda was introduced to them. Then the odd man out was introduced.
The older man stepped forward and his glasses gave him the air of respectability he so wanted. It was yet to be determined if he earned it.
I shook his hand a good solid grip, No wimp here.
The DA was speaking.
“This is the gentleman I told you about, James St.James,”
“Mr. St.James, this is Randal Reed, Defense Department, Washington.”
***
I said appropriate things. Such as Glad to meet you, and how the trip was. But I didn't mean any of them. I wanted to ask him “What the hell were they thinking?”when they started this project. That would wait until I had more ammunition.
Brenda asked, rightly why she was here.
“Because you were present when Lyle Clemets died. And we need to colorabate your and your husband’s statement.” was the answer. I didn't believe him for a minute. They wanted to check us out and see how much trouble we’d be.
The Da took over. From behind his big fancy desk. While the rest of us sat round in whatever chair we could find. The Lane Hardy file was on his desk. Along with the files I’d given to Bob yesterday.
He thumbed through the files. As he spoke.
“This Lazarus Project, this was your idea?” He asked Randal. Randal squirmed in his chair a second.
‘Well, not mine, but yes, it came from my office. My superiors thought it could work.”
“Passing the buck. Here's the deal, I have a list of people here identified only as numbers, the only I have a name to go with is 354, and he died yesterday. Now Rhonda Clements gave St.James a list,’ He held it up “Of names to go with at least some of the numbers. I want you to start matching the names with the numbers and I want an accounting of all the bodies and where they are now.”
Randal turned white.
“I Can't do that.”
“Why the hell not?”
Because I never got the names, Just the numbers. As for what happened to them, I don’t know.”
“Well, you have lots of papers to sort though. To figure it out.” He held up the papers we’d taken from Lane's Office.
Randal took them and muttered to himself as he looked them over .
“Where’d you get theses?”
“I found them last week hidden in Lane’s office. They were waiting for someone to come and get them. As far as we know no one showed up looking for them. We’ve been trying to make sense of them ever since.” He looked at me.
“These were in Lane Hardy’s Office at the college?”
I nodded yes.
“Why are you here? Now? All of the sudden? Not last week when Bob or the Caption called you people. All you did was stonewall them. Now all the sudden you put in a personal appearance?” I pushed him.
I stood over him. Looking Down at him , I considered what I could get away with. Deciding that hitting a defense department man in the office of the County DA , with him watching, wasn’t a good idea, I sat back down. But my point had been made.
The DA perked up. “Yes, that is a good question.”
“Well, it was like this, we didn't want to ..”
“Admit that you'd used americans as guinea pigs in a failed experiment?”I finished.
He nodded yes, “And the papers could easily be fakes, which we thought they were.”
“Now you see they’re not. Now what are you going to do? What about Rhonda Clements? You pulled your money from her after the war, left her to fend for herself after she and her husband worked on your damned project. You let her watch her husband die a slow death the last four years.” Brenda pushed him some more.
Randal Reed had not intended to walk into this. He thought he would throw his badge and weight around and bully us. The DA stood up.
“Well? Seems to me you owe her and us some explanations., and her some money to pay for what you should have been paying for right along.”
“Emma Hardy. What did she have to do with any of this?” Bob asked.
“If Emma Hardy hadn’t been killed, none of this would have come to light. Where does she fit into all of this? Lane Hardy?” He ran the project. Thomas Cranford, he's a drunk now. At one time he helped run the project. Seems to me you have some explaining to do There, Reed?” the DA sat up in his chair. And glared at Reed.
We all sat quietly waiting for some kind of response from him. He just tied to shrink into his leather club chair and looked down at the papers in his lap.
He looked up finely . Looking directly at Brenda he spoke.
“Truth is I didn’t even know this existed until late last night. When I was called into my bosses office and handed the papers. And a ticket out here. I read the papers on the flight out. I don’t know anymore about this then you do. I know they thought the papers, you told them you had,Theses, were probably fake, and they didn't want to admit to even knowing about it, and to come check them out, would be admitting that there was something to it.”
“Yeah there are at least three dead bodies that we know of.” The Caption spoke up for the first time. He’d been quiet after the introductions.
“Three?” Reed questioned, turning to look at the caption.
“Yes, Emma Hardy, Lyle Clemets, and a lawyer, named Jake Renyolds. All tied to either Lane Hardy or his brother Clearance, or Rhonda Clements.” The captain told him.
“That's not even counting the bodies here.” The DA held up the files.
“Also tied to this.” I pointed to the files in his lap.
**
Randal Reed looked back and forth between The DA and I.
“They didn't tell me anything, just handed me the files and a plane ticket.”
“Randal, How long you been on the job, a Fed?”
“Six months.”
“Six Months?”
“I was transferred out of accounting six months ago. They never told me why or anything. I just took notice and told my boss to report to my new boss.”
“Who is your new boss? And what do they have you doing?”
Special Agent Lee Parker. And all I do mostly is serve papers, and drive other agents around, I’m a glorified errand boy, with a badge.” He ran out of steam.
“You're biding your time until you retire.” The captain told him.
Reed nodded yes.
“You got a number for this Lee Parker, special Agent?”
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a card and handed it to the DA. Who handed to the Bob, “Find Out everything there is to find about him, Yesterday.”
“Lee Parker just became a Person Of Interest. “
***I pointed out the calling Washington would only serve to alert them of our interest and result in more stonewalling, and get us nowhere. The DA conceded the points.“You have a better suggestion?” “No not really, at least not yet. As far as Emma Hardy is concerned, I think the whole thing is local. It's possible it has nothing to do with the Lazarus Project at all. That's more personal than that. The original main objective here was to find out what really happened toEmma Hardy. If we believe Lanes, story, and he didn't do it, Which I have to say, I tend to, at this point. Then it's who else knew where she was and wanted her dead. Figuring out the Lazu us Project is a separate job, Until it's not. I’d like to suggest we run two investigations, one is Emma, and the second is Him” I pointed to Randall Reed. meaning the Lazarus Project.
I waited . Looking back and forth between the DA and the caption. I ignored Reed. He didn't count what he wanted was irrelevant. At least at this point it was.
“OKay, what do we have on the Emma Hardy case?”
For the hour or so Bob and I briefed the DA on the particulars of what he had so far, the tie in with Jake Reynolds, missing brother Clarence and his possible tie in with Emma and Lane The professors at the college had been checked out. Bob's men didn't find anything of use on any of them. They were still checking other elads, and had had men staked out on Clearance’s hotel. I told them about him never having stayed there. But it appeared to be a dead end.
“So we’re nowhere?”
“Nowhere might be a little harsh, but yeah, nothing really solid”
**
As it was clear I wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Brenda had given her statement about the death of Lyle Clements. And was told she could go.
The captain told Bob to have a uniformed officer drive her home.
I stayed behind with the DA and the Captain and Bob and the old man Randal Reed. Using a restroom trip as an excuse to get out of the room. I called Walt from a payphone in the lobby. Telling him to start checking on Randal Reed and his boss, Lee Parker.
**
Back in the DA’s office, I told them to start checking the victims of the project, the few that they had names for. Bob agreed it was a good place to start. The Captain and the DA figured it was a waste of time, But until they had a better lead on Clearance or a lead of Jake Renyolds, there wasn’t much more they could do.
They finally let me go after I signed a statement about the death of Lyle Clements.
In the back of my mind, I was wondering.
***
A lot of things passed through my mind as I walked down to my car. The core question was who killed Emma Hardy? Why? And How? The second question was who stands to gain from it? As far as Bob could find there was no will. So Lane wasn’t up for inheriting anything. I doubt there was that much to inherit anyways. After the expenses were figured. I doubt that Lane would break even when Emma was finally buried. The Lazarus Project as a smoke screen or a diversion. A good one at that. There was no denying that bad things had happened during the war. Both sides had done some pretty horrific things in the name of what they perceived as right and true. Finding out who had put these files in Lane's office and why, would go a long ways towards solving this thing.
So it was back to college for me. Time to get back to the basics .
I found the building where her class was and scouted out the room where it was to begin. Lane’s name was still on the schedule posted in the hall.
Standing in the back of the large hall I imagined the seats filled with bright eager young minds waiting to be filled with the knowledge of higher math and all of its properties and the possibilities of knowing what it could do.
I checked my notes, I was early for Jenifer's class.
So I hung back in the shadows of the Acadiana and waited.
Several young ladies came in and sat in a corner talking. I made sure I was well in the shadows of the darkened room.
Their long hair bounced around as they joked about professor Lane and Emma.
As far as I could tell the gist of the joke was that we were trying to think up math problems that would excite him enough to get him up. One commented she wondered what math formula Emma used to get him going. As crude and rude as it was, I did get it. It seemed like one of the few things that brought him alive was math. Within a few more minutes several guys came in they were all neatly dressed, their button down shirts pressed and their books neatly stacked onto a seat next to them. They didn't say much. Opened their books and started reading.
Eventually Jenifer came in. I resisted the temptation to go see her. Instead I stayed well backout of the way and out of sight.
The next two hours were the most boring I’d ever spent. I didn't understand one word of what the professor who filed in for Lane said. Even so I understood what Jneifer thought he was a bore.
I slipped out just before the professor dismissed the class.
By the time I saw Jennifer again I was sitting in the commons room where we had met before, drinking a cold drink. Trying to wash down the memory of the most boring lecture I’d ever sat through. Having sat through lectures in training and even more as an officer in the war, I’d heard my share of boring speakers. But he took the cake.
**
I spotted Jenifer sitting at a corner table drinking a cold soda and munching on a sandwich with a book open in front of her. Whether she was really reading it I doubted. But it gave the right impression to any professor who happened to wander by. I took my time getting over to her. Stopping at a vending machine and getting a new cold drink , having just finished the first one. I was still trying to wash down the lecture I’d just sat through. How she had managed to slip into the commons room without my noticing I don’t know. At the moment I didn't care.
Several fans had been placed in the room to help move the air around and one was pointing directly at her. The breeze from the fan tried to flip the pages on her book, but she'd placed a pen on the corner keeping it in a relative place. The rest of the breeze played with her hair and made it move in weird ways that somehow looked good on her. The open collar on her blouse tended to shift around in the fan breeze giving one a peek if one was in just the right spot. Which I was at the moment .
I stood and observed the interplay of the fan and her for a second then cleared my thought.
She looked up .
“James..”
“May I?” I indicated the chair in front of me.
“Sure please sit.” I pulled the chair and sat down, placing my drink in front of me.
“So, how you been?” She put the remains of her sandwich on a small paper plate.
“Not bad, But I have more questions.”
I played with my drink. Spinning it around a couple of times in my hand, then taking a swig.
“Don’t let me stop you from finishing you lunch.” I indicated the half eaten sandwich.
“Oh sure, no big deal I was trying to read the chapters from today’s lecture. It was really boring. I knew most of it already. But he did a couple of things I’d forgotten.” I didn't ask what they were. I didn't really care. Having just sat thought there whole lecture. So I changed the subject.
“Tell me more about Lane. His friends, How did he get on with the rest of the students, professors staff? And Emma too, Anyone have a particular dislike of either of them?”
“ I told all of that police last week.” She munched her sandwich.
“Yeah, I know, ..” A thought just occurred to me.
“ Say, When was the last time he played his records? How often did he play them?”
She put her drink down.
“HuH, Records ?”
“Yeah, the record collection behind his desk. How often did he play them?”
She looked past me at something in the distance behind me. Like she was trying to think.
I waited.
She thought.
The longer she thought, the more I knew what the answer would be.
She finished her sandwich pushing the paper plate to the side. And taking a big drink from her soda.
“Not often. I know he played some records earlier in the summer, I remember it was loud , and the bitch across the hall complained about it. Made him turn it down.
“You remember when this was?” I leaned forward in the chair. My drink was almost gone. I had a pretty good idea what that player would sound like in that that big room. The wooden walls and floor would make it echo, and sound louder than it really was. Probably loud enough to hear it in the hall, especially with the door open. An old bitty professor who probably didn't like anyone would hear it and complain.
Jenifer took another drink.
“Early July I think, not long after the fourth, We had just started classes if I remember right. Me and a couple of students were in there, laying out papers for new students, and he put on a record while we sorted them. They had just come back from the minigopgh.
“Ole lady Winsor came storming in and made him turn it down. So he turned it off. I don’t think he played it much after that.”
“You're sure?”
“Yeah pretty sure, Why?”
“ It was something that had come up earlier is all. Also who else had access to his office? Besides you?”
“Why, would you men?”
“Keys , can come and go, without anyone noticing?”
“I don’t know, I have a set of keys, Emma had a set, I imagine the dean did or housekeeping?”
“Yes, Housekeeping or the dean. Who else knew about the incident with Ole Lady Windsor?”
“I don’t know, just the kids in the room with us.”
“And anyone elses who was on the floor that day. You said the door was open, and she came in. So she heard it across the hall. So it would be heard up and down the hall.”
She thought for a moment .
“Yeah, I suppose so, so what?”
“You're sure he didn't play them again?”
“Yeah pretty sure, at least not when I was around.”
“Yeah the record player looked pretty dusty, like it hadn’t been touched in a while.”
“What's all this got to do with Lane killing Emma?”
“Not sure yet, but it fits with something else we found is all.” I let it go at that.
“How did he get on with the students?”
“I don’t know. Most of them thought he was pretty weird. But they also said they learned the most from him. I think some kinda liked him.”
“Any one particular student have a problem with?”
“I don’t know, several of them were failing. They didn't much care for him.
He had little patience for students who he thought weren’t trying. He thought these ones were just trying to barely pass, you know get by so they could get their degree and move on.” I knew, I’d seen the same thing in the marines. Cadets who didn’t try as hard as they could. They didn't last long. They were drummed out within a couple of weeks. The one who tried and still had problems we worked with.
“Their names?”
She wrote them down.
I added the paper to my notebook.
“How is Lane doing?”
“I don’t know, I haven’t seen him since last week. But I expect he’s holding up.”
I got up ready to leave.
“Oh and old Bitch Winsor, what's her real name?”
Jenifer told me I wrote it down,
along with what classes she teaches.
***
“Thanks for talking to me again. I keep in touch.”“He didn't do it? Kill Emma?” She looked up at me.
“No, I don’t think he did. But it's going to be hard to prove. You stay out of trouble and let me know if you think of anything else.”
“Okey,” she went back to reading her book. And I took my empty soda bottle and tossed in the nearest trash bin as I left the room.
Outside the commons room, out of sight of her. I Leaned against the wall and pulled my notebook out. I wasn’t really looking at it. I was thinking. Putting what I learned together. He hadn't played the records in over a month. So slipping the papers in them was pretty safe. But who had access long enough to do it?
Housekeeping? Possible but unlikely. Student, also possible, but again unlikely. Although as I thought about it more, it was more possible than someone in housekeeping. But professors. or staff that was another thing. They could get in and out, I doubt anyone would question a professor who had an office on his floor too much. They would figure he was looking for Lane, leaving a note or papers for him. Any number of plausible excuses could explain what they wwe in his office if they were caught. They would also probably know second or third hand about the incident with Ole Lady Windsor. And if there were around much, know he didn't play the records much. That makes sense.
Near the restroom I found the pay phones.
Calling Bob, I Left a message for him. I told the desk sergeant that I had a new name for him to check out and left her name with him. . Although I expect he had at least done a coursary check on all the staff and professors in Lane’s building concentrating on the ones on his floor. But I want the old lady checked out closer. Preferably before I talked to her. At the last minute I decided to go see her anyways. Having Been back there a couple of times I knew generally where I was going. The hall leading to Lans corner office held a number of other offices and a small conference room. I took my time in the hall. Noting each name on the brass plate next to the door. A quick sketch in my notebook told me generally where each office as in relation to Lanes.
I also took note of any schedules that were posted. Several of them had classes scheduled the same days as Lane, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Giving them a good reason to be in the building at least these days. I expected that they were at least some most days anyways. So it wouldn't be unusual to see a professor in the building on a Monday or Wednesday even if they had no classes.
Emma Hardy was killed on the evening of Wednesday June 8, Over a week ago.
I checked the schedules to see who had classes that day. It appeared that Old Lady Windsor had a class that day.
Standing outside her door. I waited . Listening to seeing I heard voices or other sounds from inside. It was quiet. Glancing at my watch, I wrote down the time in my notebook. Looking around. I noted that I could clearly see the door to Lanes Outer office from her door. It was across the hall,and down a little. Not very far. Then I had an idea.
I wonder just how loud the record player really was. Just as I was about to go find Jenfifer she came down the hall. I stopped as quietly as I could.
She told me she had to finish grading the last of the papers in his office before they were due to be handed in. Letting us into the Lanes Office told her what I wanted to do. So we opened both the doors to the office, and she found the records they had been playing that day.
I stood in the outer office. The music was loud and clear. Actually I think it sounded better there, then in his actual office. Then I moved to the hall. Just next to the door. It was still present. But definitely fading. Then I went to the lady Windsor office. Just at her door. I could faintly hear the music. Not enough to really tell what it was. I waited until Jenifer started the record over then I knocked.
My id was in my hand ready to show her when she opened the door.
After a minute I heard a chair scrape on the floor and muttering.
The door opened and I was presented with a short skinny older lady wearing a floral dress, and her hair done up in a bun of some sort. The make up she wore looked like she put it on in the dark. I ignored her looks.
“Ah Mrs. Windsor, I’m James St.James,a PI,” I held up my Id as I said it. “I’d like to ask you a few questions about your neighbor, Lane Hardy..’ I pointed generally towards his office with my hand as I put my Id back in my jacket pocket. She scowled at me. “Yeah, so, I already talked to the police.Twice. Not talking to you.” She started to shut the door in my face. But I pushed it back open.
“Mam, you can either answer my questions now, or I can the cops,and they can get a warrant and search your office and home for evidence in the murder of Emma Hardy. Please its routine . I have to cover all the bases.”
“You're not a cop, I don’t have to talk to you.
“ No I’m not. But talking to me is better than having them come to ask you embarrassing questions.” The entire time the music was still playing.
She held up her hands in surrender,
“Sure what the hell. Come in.” She moved aside and I stepped out of her outer office into the interoffice. The setup was much like Lanes, only his was a corner office and he had more windows. And was probably slightly bigger.
“Your name?”
She told me her full name and what she was a professor of and what classes she taught. . I acknowledged that I could get all that from the dean or records when she questioned it.
I told her I just wanted to hear it from her.
Then I got to the meat of my visit.
“Last month, early July you had a run in with Professor Hardy.
“”Run in?”
“Yeah, you got into it with. Over some music. He was playing it too loud, you made a stink, made him turn it down.” I reminded her.
“Oh like it is now? That damned whore of his is playing it again.”
“Yeah so? What's wrong with some music to work by?”
“Well, nothing, I guess, But he played too loud, I could hear it in here.”
I turned around and shut the door. The faint sounds of the record player completely disappeared. Even with it open it was so faint,you barely tell what it was. Much less What song it was.
“Mam, even with the door open, you can barely hear it. You can’t even tell what songs are playing or who’s playing. Even in the hall down here it's hard to hear. So please don’t tell me you make a stink about loud music disturbing your work. With the door closed you can’t hear it at all.” She shifted in her chair.
“What was really going on, why did you make such a stink over nothing?”
While I waited for her to come up with a good excuse. I took a tour of her office. I Noticed a lot of pictures. A lot of her with young ladies. They all seemed to be much younger than her. There were a number of them going back to the 20’s. Then it occurred to me there were none of any men, or boys.
“Former students?” I indicated the display of the picture on the shelf behind her desk. She turned to look.
“Yes, most are former PA’s and some friends.”
“Never had a guy PA?”
“No.. it never came up.”
“You like them young don’t you?”
The look on her face said I was right. The color drained from her.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re not a spring chicken anymore. But you like your lady friends younger than you. Did Emma figure it?”
“Figure what out?”
“That you’re an old Dyke. You like your girls younger.”
“Where do you get off callin me a dyke?”
“It was pretty stupid having all their pictures here in the office for the world to see. Anyone with half a brain could figure it out, if they paid attention. I don’t give a shit what you do ,except that I have a muder to solve, As right now your my prime suspect.”
I sat down in the chair across from her desk.
“Now let's start over. Why the stink about Lane and his music? And who else knows about your preference for college girls?”
She squirmed in her chair and said nothing.
** I played with my hat in my lap, giving me a chance to peek at my watch. It was past ten in the morning.
She picked up a pen and doodled with it on a blank piece of paper. Sighing, she heaved her chest and crossed her arms on her chest and leaned back in her chair.
“Okay, you're right, I like girls. But it's not what you think it is.”
“I know what it is. I want you to tell me about Emma and Lane Hardy. Did they know?
She Know?”
“I think she suspected,but she never said anything. As for Lane if it didn’t have a math equation in it, he didn't know it existed.” That rang true. His world was numbers and math.
“Tell me about the day with the record player, and you making him turn it off.”
She looked at the ceiling, like she was trying to remember a long lost relative.
“Okay, here’s the deal, I had a shall we say “friend” here in the office, and well, I didn't want to attract any attention until I could get her out of the building safely,, without being spotted. And Lane started playing the record player,, You’re right all I had to do was shut the door, which I did. But then I got worried that the music would attract other people down at this end of the hall, and I wouldn’t be able to get her out of the building unseen. So As much as I hated to, I made a fuss. And got him to turn it off. I really didn't mind the music. But I couldn’t risk anyone spotting her here and connecting to me. A little while after the row, and things settled down. I snuck her out the back door. Past Lanes Office.”
“Okay, what about Emma’s death?”
“ I don’t know. It was Wednesday, June 8 in the evening.Where were you?
“I already told the cops this.”
“Now tell me, or I’ll find the girl and have the cops down here on a morals charge. She was underage wasn’t she?”
“Well, yeah, a little she was 17 and a half, another few months and she'd be eighteen.”
“And Legal, but you couldn’t wait?”
“I was waiting but it was her idea, she wanted it now, and right then. I couldn’t ...”
“Say no to a bright young thing who offered herself on a platter?”
She looked down at her desk. And nodded.
‘Okey back to Emma Hardy.”
“You said she suspected your ..?”
She nodded yes.
“How? How do you know?”
“By some of the jokes she made, and comments at parties we’d been to together. Nothing outright or obvious but she made jokes about my having never married, and not having a boyfriend. Subtle but It was enough to tell me she had a pretty good idea.”
“I see. But she never directly said anything?”
“No. OKay. Back to the murder.”
She shifted around in her big leather chair.
“Wednesday Night, The 8, of this month. Where were you?”
She straightened up and reached for her datebook, which lay on a far corner of the desk. I waited.
Flipping through the pages.
“Lets see, I already told the cops this.”
“I know, tell me .”
***
As she flipped through her datebook,looking for last month’s entries. It occurred that any talk of her extracurricular activities even if there was no proof would derail her career, or at the least get her fired from the college. No matter how long she’d been here. Tenured or not.
“Ah here it is.” She slid the book around so I could see the pages in question .
Without asking her, I copied down the information off the pages.
“Says here you had a class in the early afternoon. And you had some tutoring scheduled for later in the afternoon.”
“She leaned over and looked at it with me.
“MMyes, It was a small class. Summer classes usually are. It mostly make-up for extra credit students.’
“And the tutoring?”
“Yeah, a Ronnie something or another, it's written down here,” She pointed to a side note in the book. I Copied the information.
“He showed?”
“Yeah, he didn't have a choice, if he didn't pass, he'd fail the summer sessions.”
She closed the book. And sat back in her chair.
“That was it?”
“Yes, I went home after that. Was at home all evening, watchced tv, and graded some papers.”
“So no real alibi? ”
“As in, was I in the throes of passion with a pretty young coed?”
“Yeah something like that.”
“Sorry nope. I was at home being a domesticated Professor, watching tv and grading papers. Most of which were lousy.”
**A couple of thoughts crossed my mind as she fiddled with the pen waiting for me to speak again. I collected my thoughts.
“Earlier you called Professor Hardy's PA ,a whore. Explain.”
She put down the pen and leaned towards me.
‘“ I like sex as much as the next girl. However, Jenifer, I think her name is, will screw anything with a dick, if she thinks it’ll help her with her grades or get her ahead in some way.”
“Professor Hardy was she ..?”
“No. That's the one she couldn’t get. He wasn’t interested in her assets. Only her brain. He was very much in love with Emma. It was kinda cute,really, in a sick kinda way. The way here was always kissing and hugging all the time. He had no interest in any other woman. I’ll say that for him. He has two loves, math, and Emma.”
That matched what I’d heard from everyone elses.
“Students. Do you have any students that take all or any of the same classes?”
She Pulled out another book from her pile on the corner of the desk.
“I don’t think so.”
“You know we can check easily, worst case we can get a warrant if we have to.”
“Look as far as I know, I don’t have any students who have either Lane or Emma’s class. It’s very unlikely that I would as I teach an entirely different subject. Then either of them. It is possible one may have both Lane and Emma's at the same time But I doubt it.”
“I see. I had to ask.”
“ I know. Anything else nosy minds want to know?”
“Yeah, just one thing, Do you have a girlfriend right now?”
“That is none of your business.”
“If the cops start asking around, again it will be their business too. So you better hope the cops don’t come back to you again. I can’t stop them if they do. And they'll ask more personal questions than I did.”
***
I started to get up to leave.
“By the way, what was on that night?”
“Hell I don’t remember. I just had it on for the noise.”
It would help her albi a lot if she could remember what she was watching. But I didn't tell her that.
“I may be back to talk to you again.”
“You do that..”
Outside her office I took a minute considering what little I Learned about her. Her story about the record player incident did kinda make sense. But on other hand, a smarter person would have closed the door, and hoped they were ignored. And invented a story in case she was caught..
An Incident like here making a fuss, only made sure that she was remembered for being here. Unless that was the idea. Definitely something to consider. Time to look into what was on tv that week, and what else was going on in the lives of the players involved that day.
Jenifer was still in Lane’s office when I peeked in the outer office. The record player had long since been put and the lid back on it.
She was sitting behind Lane's desk when I walked in. Drawing on a blank piece of paper. Looking up, she grinned.
“So how’d we do?”
“Not bad.” I sat down near the desk.
“She could hear the record player?”
“Barely down there. And with the door closed not at all.”
“Then why make all the fuss about it?”
“That's what I’m wondering.”
***I handed her the list of the students' names that Windsor had given me of the students she was tutoring, and the ones she was teaching.
“You recognize any of them, particularly the ones she was tutoring?” I didn't tell her which Ronnie she had supposedly been torturing the night Emma was murdered.
Jenifer looked it over, shaking her head.
“Don’t know any of them.” Handing me the list back.
“I didn’t expect you would. I had to ask”.
“What now?”
“Not sure yet. I’m going to get the students checked out to start with, and I’ll see from there. Anyways thanks for your help”
“No problem, it was fun.”
“Yeah, in a way it was” I had to agree. Pulling the radio test on the old lady, and her not figuring out that I was testing to see what she could actually hear . If she figured it out, she didn't say anything or let on. Either way. It told me what I needed to know. And I learned more than I ever wanted to know about her.
I said my goodbyes to Jenifer and headed back to the Packard. It has been an interesting morning.
First, The call to see the DA. I still wasn't sure what that was about. I suspect it was about more than the death of Lyle Chambers, and my involvement with it. They didn't seriously believe that had anything to do with it. But my questions had raised more questions.
Questions that lots of people didn’t want to answer.
**The hurried breakfast that Brenda and I had early this morning has worn off long ago. So I decided to find a cafe or diner to get a snack and plan my next move.
While I drank soda and listened to Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin over the radio in the cafe near the college. I remembered the small black & white pictures of Emma and Lane I had from the school records.
When The waitress came back around to refill my drink and get my order I showed her the pictures. She knew them by name, and they have both been in many times both alone and together. Sometimes with students or with other teachers. The diner was a hangout for the college crowd. She couldn’t remember exactly when she had seen either of them last. But she didn’t think it had been long before all the trouble went down. There is almost no point in showing the pictures around here. They would be recognized by most of the staff at the diner, and probably half the customers.
Just for the hell of it, I showed the pictures to the manager and the rest of the staff as I ran into them. They all recognized the pictures. But no one had a clear memory of when they had been in last.
I also noted that no one had anything but good things to say about either of them, Several commented on their romantic behavior when they were in together. Which confirmed what I had been hearing about them right along. No one seems to have major issues with Lane. A couple commented that he was a little weird at first, but once he got used to you and the place he loosened up some. But when he was alone or with other college people he seemed a little stiff and not as at ease as he was with Emma. Which also jived with what others had said about him socially. A couple said they got the impression that he’d rather be anywhere but here when he was in with the other college professors. The only time he seemed totally at ease was when he was here with Emma.
Back in the Packard I considered a couple of things. Other places near the college would be places that the college crowd would frequent on a regular basis.
I suspect that Bob had men doing a canvas of the local businesses and would find the places that they used all the time.
So While the talk from the diner was useful, it really didn't get me anywhere nearer to finding out the core problem, Who shot Emma ? and Why?
Another thought crossed my mind.
A number of other possibilities came to mind, I wrote them down in my notebook. They would make for an interesting discussion with Bob in a little while when I got to the police station.
With those thoughts floating around in my mind like meldy looking for a song to sing, I headed back to the police station.
On The third floor I found Bob back in his office. This time I didn’t worry about being seen by the DA or the Captain. I was on the case and there was little they could do about it.
I reported on the visit to the college this morning and my talks with Jenfier and the Bitch Professor down the hall from Lane’soffice.. He confirmed that they had talked to her last week. And her story about the night in question gelled with what she told me. I also told him my observations about the pictures he had in her office. That got his attention.
“So she likes the ladies eh?”
“Young ones apparently.” I went on to tell him about the incident with the record player last month, and how she’d made a stink about it. And what she told the real reason for the stink was, apparently she had a young female company in the office with her at the time, and did not want to risk the music or noise attracting undue attention to that end of the building and possibly her and her young friend.”
“Ah I see. And you figured out her penchant for the female form because there were no pictures of guys in her office?”
“Well, partly, and it was a guess. I’d run into older dykes before and I had a feeling something was off with her, so I guessed.”
“And if you guessed wrong. ?”
“If I was wrong I apologize like crazy and get out of there. There was only her and me in there, so no one else knew I said anything. If it came down to it, It was her word against mine.”
“Your license is already hanging by a thread as it is, It would’t take much for the DA or the Federal man from this morning to get it pulled for slander or inparroricaite behaviour. Of any damn little thing they think they can find. So be careful who you tell what to or suggest what.”
“I got it.” I nodded in agreement.
“Oh and by the way I have a couple of other ideas to float by you.”
“OH and who is what?”
“Nothing like that. It’s Emma’s killing that makes no sense. No one had a thing against her, students and colleagues all liked her. She was good at teaching, from what they say, and Lord Knows Lane and Emma were close. Some say “teenager in love close”.
“So why kill her?”
“There are only two reasons I can think of.
She was mistaken for Lane. And he was a real target. Which is highly unlikely. Especially given she was shot at close range.
Or she was a message or warning to Lane or someone else. Probably in relation to the Lazarus Project. We know that left a lot of damage and people dead along the way. A lot of families lost a lot of people because of the Lazarus Project. That would also help explain the files hidden in Lanes Record collection.”
Bob sat back in his wooden office chair and played with his cold coffee. Thinking.
While he played with his half empty cup of coffee I elaborated a number of other thoughts and reasons for them to him.
***
For the next half hour or so we bounced ideas around. None of them made a lot of sense. He filled me in on the case against Lane Hardy. It still looked pretty good. But it had holes in it. One Of the the biggest was their relationship and how close they were. It didn't make sense that one of them had an affair, The money angle didn't check out either. After he had recanted his confession, he opened up and told more about the Lazarus Project. Yes he knew about Lyle Chambers and how sick he was. He had tried to get more help for them. But the money was cut off from way above him. There was nothing he could do. Bob told him that he just died. Lane seemed generally upset over it. Telling Bob, he almost wished Lyle had died long ago. So he wouldn’t have had to suffer the way he had.
I gave him the names of the students I’d gotten from Ol Lady Windsor. He added them to the list of names he had men checking out. Neither of us figured they would amount to much . But it had to be checked out anyways. I also told him about the diner and how most of the staff knew the Hardys and that they were regulars there. Bob had had meen chckingout the haunts of the college crowds. Some Places didn't know them. But they weren’t places one expected to see a college professor, they were places only the students would hang out.
I told him I still thought the source of the crime lay in the Lazarus Project.
He agreed that it made sense, especially given the papers found in the office. They still haven’t told Lane about everything they’ve found out yet.
His lawyer was screaming bloody murder about them withholding evidence.
Which they were. But the feds now were wanting to see everything which was causing even more fiction.
We agreed our best hope wsa to find out who from the old days was still around, and had lost someone to the Project. Revenge seemed like the likeliest motive.
Bob said that Randel Reed was sticking to the Captain Like glue, which was driving him crazy, and he in turn was taking it out on him. He wanted Reed gone as much as the captain. He was insisting on being in on interviews and scaring people as much or more than the regular cops. No one wanted to talk to him.
I gave Bob the particulars on the professor Windso. And he said he’d checked her out.
I told him I’d sit on her for a while and talk to people who knew her as she had the most to lose if Emma or Lane talked to the wrong people. He agreed. Also the bit with the record player didn't make any sense. Unless you wanted to get him to stop playing. The only reason to get him to stop playing it would be so one could get into the office and hide something in there.
I left Bob's office and headed back to the college.
This time I didn’t go to the offices.
Instead I went to the parking lot. Bob had given me the plate number and make and model of the car she drove. A quick tour of the lot showed she was still here.
I settled into a shady spot near the entrance and waited. After a while she came out.
She went straight to her car. I doubt that she saw any of the several people milling around under the shade of a tree near the lot. Much less me.
It was easy to follow her. She didn't look back, just drove straight ahead and you better to get out of her way. She narrowly missed having at least one accident on her drive across town.
Eventually, she pulled into a nursing home on a side street.
I held back a minute and waited for her to get in and parked before I pulled in behind her.
Once she was safely inside, and I was parked. I wrote down the name and address of the home in a notebook.
I debated whether to follow her in or not. Quickly deciding that it wasn’t wise. I didn’t need her recognizing me and causing a scene. Which I suspect she would in a minute. Even if she didn't just recognize me would be bad enough.
I played with the radio and listened to a couple of songs and more commercials then music while I waited for her to come out.
About a half hour later she came out. Again she marched straight to her car.
The next debate was whether to follow her or go check the nursing home. Following won.
So I started up after her. She stopped at a couple of stores on the way to her home. Eventually she found her way to her house. On a nice quiet side street in a residential section of town. The street was lined with a variety of trees ranging from the ever popular Palm to oaks and a few fir trees. I noticed that there were two cars parked in the driveway belonging to her house. The second car was an older ford. The third car was a chevy. Her car was an oldsmobile. I parked across the street just down aways from her driveway , under an old growth oak tree that was probably older than the street which it shaded.
She went into the house. A minute later a couple of guys came out and got the bags from her car. After five minutes or so everyone was inside. I couldn’t tell how old either of the men were. But they weren't kids.
I wrote down the models and plate numbers of the cars as best I could from that distance and angle. The car furthest up in the driveway was at the wrong angle and blocked so I couldn’t see the plate at all.
I glanced at my watch. It was getting towards the middle of the afternoon, and I hadn’t touched base with Brenda or Bob since this morning.
**
As tempting as it was to go busting in and start grilling her about the Lazarus Project, and Emma Hardy. Instead, I started the car up and headed back down the street.
I knew where she lived and where to find her. Before I talked to her again, I wanted to know who she was visiting in the nursing home.
It didn’t take long to get back across town .
Brenda was getting ready to go open the bar.
I followed her to the bar and we opened up for the evening.
Not long after opening up, one of the regulars showed up and, Right behind him, Walt came in.
Taking his usual chair at a corner table Walt sat and drank the same beer all night long. During a couple of slow stretches when there were only a few in the bar, I went over and talked to Walt.
As usual, it was well past two-thirty in the morning when we got home from the bar.