Formula for Murder Page 3

  “Excuse me? Murder investigation? Kat, we are to provide answers when asked, and good will to the community as needed.”

  She hid a tiny smile at his easy use of her nickname and lectured, “You’re going to steer away from the murder whenever possible, aren’t you?”

  “You mean like the canned phrases we use? “Mountain View University was established in 1890 as a nondenominational alternative to the spate of religious colleges and universities that popped up in the valley in the 1800s. With a predominantly brick architecture and 300 acres of aesthetic greenery to offset the red brick, the university’s Heritage Hall is adorned with a steeple that served as a beacon to lead the way to the university through the town.”

  She tackled her own omelet, while he laughed at himself. “I can’t believe I remembered all that.”

  Kat mused. “Maybe this job really is in your blood.”

  Feeling that he shouldn’t be taken in so much by that twinkling smile, Nick switched back to what he’d been saying, but first he took tiny sips of the offensive tea. “What’s in this miracle cure? Besides the vinegar. I pegged that one right away.”

  “It’s just a teaspoon of vinegar and a tablespoon of honey in hot water.”

  “Do I have to drink it all?”

  “Not if you’re going to whine about it.”

  Nick got the point and took a few more sips while he watched her eat. He admired the way she took precise cuts of the omelet, like they were parts of a patchwork quilt and each piece had to match the last. He wolfed down his omelet. Taking another sip from the mug to detract him from watching her graceful hands, he grimaced and asked about the staff.

  Kat explained to Nick her part-time public relations position. She’d accepted the job full-time until a permanent director was hired. She listed other personnel under his control. Dennis, the sports information writer, better know as the SID, was almost autonomous, only in the office when he wasn’t out covering games. Shelley, the publications manager, was swamped producing catalogs and brochures this time of year and stayed holed up in her office.

  Nick explained his game plan about meeting with everyone to work on an official response to the murder.

  “Something like, ‘We will not jeopardize the investigation in any way, but within those constraints we will keep you as informed as possible.’”

  “That’s the extent of your public relations efforts?”

  He rubbed one hand across the top of his head, took another tentative sip from the mug, and said, “I just got here. Let me work on it a little before you criticize.”

  He borrowed a notepad and started making notes, interspersed with numerous questions while Kat cleaned up. She casually looked over her shoulder, walking behind him frequently in her task, while surreptitiously studying his handwriting. She looked for signs of rigid consistency in the way he formed his letters, as well as excessive slants or deceptive formations. Fortunately, none showed. Inconclusive on such a short sample, but comforting anyway.

  “Well, let’s get you rolling. I can’t wait to see how your public relation techniques improve with time.” Kat deftly wiped the table and counters while Nick packed the notes in his suitcase.

  Kat sat in the driver’s seat admiring her anklestrap shoes while Nick stashed his suitcases in the car. It wasn’t really that cold yet, and these shoes were snappier than the boots. They headed to the university in relative quiet at first and then discussed his job.

  Why did they offer it to him? Why did he take it? she wondered.

  “I’ve been known as a troubleshooter. Aren’t they similar? With good public relations, you shoot down the trouble before it happens, and you contain the damage when you can’t.”

  Kat grunted agreement as she concentrated on the next bend in the road.

  Nick continued, “Ludlow needed someone. He was leaving on this trip and wouldn’t be around to interview for a permanent position. I was coincidentally available.”

  She digested the merits of that, reining in her jealousy at his having the job handed to him.

  He added, “Mostly he knew my reputation for political wheeling and dealing and figured I’d juggle the various job components. He didn’t know we’d be dealt a murder my first day here, though that’s not new to me either. I should be able to keep my head.”

  She drove with divided concentration, hoping to learn more as he talked.

  We’ll meet with the president this morning to determine a chain of command and a way to contact him.”

  She knew the president’s trip to Hungary took a year to plan and participants were counting on him to conduct that seminar.

  Nick stretched comfortably and said, “It feels good to be back. He reached for the radio dial and asked, “Do they still have Jazz FM?”

  Kat nodded and cocked an eyebrow as he immediately zeroed in on the correct airways, and strains of Stan Getz in “Darn That Dream” drifted out of the speakers.

  “You don’t know where you’re living, you don’t have a functioning car but you already have a favorite radio station?”

  “There are priorities in life. This is at the top!”

  “The radio?”

  “No, jazz. The only other thing that comes close is big band music. Would you prefer that?”

  “No, I’m fond of the big band greats but this is pleasant, too. Getz plays a fine sax.”

  They settled into a companionable silence as the music absorbed them, playing a soothing preface to a harrowing and hectic day.

  Chapter 4

  To see yourself as others do, study your handwriting. Your weaknesses are revealed; your strengths become evident.

  “Graphic Insight”

  The chocolate slid down her throat, eliciting an adrenaline rush before it hit bottom. Kat moaned with pleasure and deftly secured the second section in a safe corner of her bag. Hearing a slight sound behind her, she licked her lips and swallowed before someone could catch her. Closet chocoholics had it tough.

  “Would you like to be left alone,” Nick ventured as he lounged in the doorway behind her, listening to the exultation.

  She turned around abruptly but only spied the corner of a smile and shuttered eyes. Since she hadn’t caught him mocking her she ignored the issue and settled for lofty aplomb.

  “Alone? Nick we need to plan. Now.” Kat crossed her legs, dangled her Prada buckle pump in bouncing concentration, and pulled out the first samples of handwriting she’d scrounged, staring intently at the various scripts. She didn’t notice the return twinkle.

  “It’s a paltry few, but a start,” she admitted, finally, but this time captured him in an unguarded moment and realized he was still inwardly laughing.

  “What’s so funny?”

  His husky voice attempted a disguise but could barely conceal the glee. “Funny? What? Your sensual addiction or the fact that you hope to solve this case by studying the killer’s signature? It would help if it followed a confession.”

  Kat reeled in the pain. She’d hoped for better from Nick. But education was the answer. He would soon see that handwriting analysis presents a key to unlock the secrets of personality. She’d studied her own handwriting and knew her weaknesses. She swallowed her impatience and smiled. Her time would come.

  For now they moved to Nick’s new office for a quick preliminary meeting. At dawn the president had called an emergency meeting with his administrative staff members for 10 a.m. They wanted to be prepared for any publicity problems that might be posed and to present a plan of action.

  Kat gave Nick detailed background on the long-tenured chemistry professor who died. Charlie had led a shallow life, if one judged by the information at hand. His research plumbed the only depths he had.

  “You’ll probably hear a lot of bad rumors about Charlie. Some of them are definitely true. Facts about him you might need to know—he has a Ph.D. in chemistry from Penn State. One professor said he’d aspired to do his graduate work at Wisconsin but hadn’t made the grade and was bitter ever
since.

  Nick took notes as she spoke and Kat discreetly inched her chair sideways to glance at his writing. She hoped to glean a few key points but her skills didn’t lend themselves well to upside-down scrutiny.

  She gave up for now, crossing her long legs and momentarily distracting him. Her harsh assessment quickly brought his mind back to the topic, “He was narrow-minded, worshipped the test tube, and had some irritating habits. He’s been called disrespectful of his so-called underlings, pigheaded and self-serving.”

  “Was he all of that?”

  She wandered the room, thinking of a way to explain the solitary professor from the dedicated one, the quiet from the rude. Academia carried endless invisible lines. The unwary inevitably tripped.

  “He was, to a point, but there are different perspectives on it. For instance, yes, his experiments were his whole life. He even continued working while talking with people. I noticed he never looked directly at the person he was speaking with even when he wasn’t in the lab. It left a sour impression for many that they never had his full attention.”

  Kat had seen Charlie’s handwriting enough times to know of his weaknesses, though they were often obvious when he spoke, but his handwriting’s silent message revealed nothing sinister or she would have remembered. She sat back down and added, “I can see where that would greatly irritate some people, especially those who felt they were imparting something of import. It probably didn’t endear him to students either.”

  “Was he from around here?” Nick asked.

  “I believe he was originally from Idaho. Lived here a long time though without ever making himself at home as far as I could tell.”

  “It does paint a bleak picture.”

  Nick rubbed his hand up the bridge of his nose and across his eyebrows in a despairing gesture. Trying to acquire all this knowledge in a few minutes was impossible. He thanked her nonetheless and asked her to stay close and clue him in as he met people.

  They discussed how to deal with relevant questions and fears. She studied the hard angles of his face, softened by caring eyes as he planned ways to make the students more comfortable in this potentially worrisome situation. He watched the way her emerald eyes darkened with concern and admired the way she carried her slender five-foot-seven inches as she paced the room while she talked. Her conservative blue suit with the pencil-thin skirt contrasted strongly with the lacy underwear he glimpsed that morning. But the suit couldn’t hide her endless legs. They mesmerized him. When he realized he’d missed her last sentence he brought his mind abruptly back to the repercussions of murder on campus.

  Was there danger on campus? What game plan should they use in dealing with the fear? Should they provide an aggressive plan of attack on dealing with publicity alone, or should they attempt more—a comprehensive guide provided to the administration for dealing with faculty, staff, and students—and their fears? They spoke briefly with Detective Burrows and headed together into the meeting.

  A warm handshake and a beaming smile from his favorite professor, Donald Ingraham, greeted Nick as he entered the room. “I can’t believe you’re still here!” Nick said as he shook hands and stepped back deferentially. “You were talking about retiring when I was your student.”

  Ingraham laughed. “Too true. But once you left things settled down and I signed on for a few more years.”

  The rest of the staff filtered in. President Ludlow introduced Nick to each member as they entered. Most of the administration had changed from his days on campus. Timothy Kahn, the myopic-looking vice president, greeted him eagerly and set up a strategy meeting for later that morning. Sloan O’Malley, director of the continuing studies division, grasped his hand and smiled winsomely, but was interrupted by Matt Damian. The physically suave and mentally astute Damian, in charge of finance, was looking for an assessment of how this might affect student enrollment and ultimately his well-balanced budget. Nick was only able to give them bland assurances and promised to meet each later. They darted like hummingbirds around him, homing in for a sip as if he were a trumpet vine, then backing slowly away while they digested what he said.

  The president announced a memorial service, scheduled for the next day in the chapel. He explained his position on the trip and placed Kahn in charge of the academic side. He asked Nick to come forward again and announced that he would handle public relations and anything related to the investigation. Ludlow asked for their assistance, not only in the investigation, but in compassionately handling the resulting chaos. Nick gave a brief update provided by Detective Burrows, who was keeping a low profile in the back of the room, and explained he would keep in touch frequently with new information.

  The staff agreed to an open forum on campus in the early afternoon for all students and employees. They felt the early meeting before rumors got out of hand would help contain the fears. Nick would announce that counseling was available to anyone who wished it and that a memorial service would be held. Detective Burrows was to attend the meeting to answer questions and request that any relevant information be directed to his office.

  The campus safety staff left first to work up a plan of security for faculty, staff, and students on campus. They wanted to announce it at the afternoon meeting. Burrows, looking more rumpled by the minute from his all-night investigation, was simultaneously directing a canvass of the area, answering questions of his second-in-command, and motioning to Nick to call him later.

  As the group filtered out, Sloan, well-known as the middle-aged vamp on campus, who also happened to do an exceptional job directing the evening college, cornered Nick. Kat watched from the sidelines as Sloan took a bite out of Nick with her eyes. Knowing that once Sloan sunk in her claws it would be ages before she could extract Nick, Kat commandeered him quickly, mumbling, “You’re running late for your appointment. Excuse us, Sloan. I’m sure you’ll have time to chat later.”

  Nick winked salaciously at Sloan before turning obediently to Kat. He knew he didn’t have an appointment immediately. He hoped it was jealousy that had turned her into the efficient matron.

  Katharine provided Nick more background. She thought Nick could take an unbiased view of the situation because he had never known Charlie. Nick confirmed that the crime scene had been used for eons as the general chemistry lab and he’d studied the chemical elements there with the rest of the liberal arts students in his time. For a few minutes they delighted in the swapping of tales, chemical experiments gone awry, frustrated professors, and innocent good times.

  Nick stepped from behind his desk and strode to the door, looking out into the empty workroom. “Satisfy my curiosity about some of these people. The ones in the chemistry department, Professor Abbott’s associates. I need to form a picture with no time to become familiar with them on my own.”

  Kat pulled up a mental image of Charlie’s closest associates and tried to sketch well-rounded figures. She added idiosyncrasies so he’d see them as people. Thus Abner Prosnerian, a chemistry prof, wore sunglasses everywhere except in the lab. Professor Santora, chemistry chair, was loved by most, yet had an elaborately nonchalant manner because he was oblivious to the social cues of others and in a hazy way he knew it. He handed out chewing gum to the students in lieu of praise, but they loved it, and him.

  Later, as she glanced out her office window, the campus looked serene. That happened sometimes at dusk. With the street lights, came the second wave of energy as students surged out of the classrooms and scattered like billiard balls on a break. The campus hadn’t changed in eons. But maybe she had. Today the serenity didn’t soothe. She paced restlessly, her mind jumping from one idea to another and back to Nick, who refused to be tucked away in his corner. She shook her head, trying to dislodge him from her mind.

  As she stared out across the common she thought more of what was behind the facade, the quarrels, the feuds, affairs hidden by colonial bricks. It was a microcosm of life. Such a small campus, yet like in life, education was found in places other than books. S
ome of it was uncovered in the library. While there, most of the students were deeply engrossed in their reading and research, battling the last-minute time element they’d self-imposed by attending all the Homecoming activities last weekend.

  If one looked up from the words between the covers, one would see the silent communication of nods and smiles between the library director and the reference librarian. It was certainly more eloquent than the description of social stratification levels in the 1950s two students that were studying at a table in the corner.

  She pondered why the students seemed wilder these days. She’d seen behind the facade in many of them, and there was a tension they were trying to deny. The wildly impulsive and heedless attitude was a cover, an inability to accept AIDS, theft, the unending poor, the failure of society to progress in all they felt should count. A constant eroding of their confidence, at their skills, at their serenity. Too much happening, too many societal threats, too much financial burden to fit into their 24/7.

  The young men and women on campus appeared to be on the same tightrope that the yuppie crowd started balancing on five years into their jobs. Everyone is strung out these days, she thought. Even the local gas station owner on the corner, once cheerful and carefree, bends customer’s ears about EOC charges dealing with the DER.

  Chapter 5

  Be suspicious when examining handwriting. Our writing leaves a trail of clues about us and can tell our tale though we never speak.

  Katharine Everitt

  The blue eyes stared mournfully. “Could you give me a ride over to the police station?”

  As opening sexual banter it lacked zest. Still, Kat jumped at the chance and rushed him through his lunch.

  “Detective Richard Burrows said he’d give me an update in half an hour.” He proffered the explanation even though she obviously didn’t require one.