Sounds of Murder

Chapter 11

Chapter 11

No, she wasn't late. Thank heavens. Her nerves were on edge and she'd hardly slept. Pamela entered the hallowed confines of the seminar room, where she'd held her acoustics class the night of the murder only a few days ago

It was already ten minutes after 7:00 a.m. on Thursday morning. So much for punctuality. Yet, she was the first to arrive. She scouted the room and staked out her favorite spot--the side closest to the door. Just right, she thought, for a quick getaway, but with the best view of the campus's lovely elms. Setting down her purse on the floor beside her chair, she put her books, papers, and grade book on the table. Her light jacket, she placed over the back of the chair.

She pulled out the chair and was starting to sit when Arliss entered at breakneck speed, her ponytail bobbing up and down.

"Pam," she huffed, obviously out of breath, "My God, it's 7 o'clock in the morning! How can anyone function at such an hour? This will not be a pretty meeting." Arliss careened into the spot beside Pamela and let a stack of papers and books she'd been clutching slide precariously onto the table.

"Are they ever?" asked Pamela. "Do you know something I don't?"

"Now that Charlotte's not here to protest," said Arliss, dropping a folder and trying unsuccessfully to tuck a stray lock into her wayward hair, "I've decided to bring up the state of the animal lab to the entire faculty. I mean, everyone in this department has a vested interest in the welfare of our animals."

She slammed her remaining folders and papers on the spot next to Pamela and lurched into the chair, turning to Pamela, continuing her frenzy without missing a beat. "There's only so much one person can do. We have cages piled on top of each other. We simply don't have the funds to get the equipment to care for our animals properly, and yet there has been endless funding for that computer lab of Charlotte's! Now that she's not here to run roughshod over us, I don't see why some of that money can't be directed to our area."

Pamela nodded. "Has something new happened to get you so riled up?" she asked Arliss.

"We had six more rats die yesterday, and Dr. Goodman's youngest chimp is ill too. We aren't veterinarians and we simply don't have the funds to provide our animals with the proper conditions they need." She slouched in the chair, noticeably drained.

"Bring it up, by all means, but I suspect that Charlotte's demise will be the focus of this meeting."

At that moment, Joan entered the room.

"Ah!" she announced primly. "As usual, I see the women have arrived on time and the men are late."

"Joan," responded Pamela, "I might point out, that you're 15 minutes late."

"Yes, but the men never need to know that, do they, my dear?" Joan answered, her eyes twinkling.

"You're certainly cheerful for so early on such a grim occasion," Pamela smiled warmly.

"Dear girls," said Joan, taking a seat on the other side of Pamela, and carefully placing a large briefcase on the table before her. "It's a lovely fall day. Why not enjoy?" Then she neatly and almost formally sat in the chair, pulling herself as close to the table as possible. Pamela expected her to call the meeting to order.

"Ladies!" a booming voice called out as Willard entered, wearing a black suit with a black shirt and tie. He walked slowly and carefully, leaning on his wooden cane with the beautifully carved handle.

"Willard," greeted Joan, "Aren't you stylish."

"Dr. Swinton," said Arliss, "How are you?"

"Willard, did you wear that outfit trick-or-treating last night?" asked Pamela