Free FM for Murder by Patricia Rockwell Page A

allowed, they are encouraged—lots of pets.”
    “I’m thinking,” said Arliss, biting her lip and pushing her unruly hair out of her eyes again.
    “Just a possibility,” said Pamela.
    “Right, my dear,” chimed in Joan, “don’t throw the baby out with the bath water. Haven’t you always wanted some larger animals—not just a dog and some cats? I know you’ve discussed horses.”
    “Stop,” said Arliss. “This is cruel. I need to think.”
    “Thinking,” said Detective Shoop, appearing suddenly in the doorway, obviously having overheard the three women talking.
    “My, my!” exclaimed Pamela, “Detective Shoop! What brings you all the way over to my office. I thought you and your men would still be digging through clues at Silverton Hall or at the radio station.”
    “My dear, Dr. Barnes,” he said politely to the professor on the couch, as he gave her a sweeping bow, “we have completed our collection of evidence at the station, at Ballard’s office, and at his apartment, and are now hard at work going over the clues. I stopped by your office because I have a favor to ask.”
    “Do tell, Detective,” said Pamela, smiling, “and what favor could I possibly do for you?” She crossed her legs, swinging her top leg back and forth coyly.
    “Actually, Dr. Barnes,” continued the tall, gangly man, his overcoat swinging as he spoke, “it occurred to me yesterday when I saw you in Dr. Muldoon’s office that the two murders—that of this Ted Ballard and that of Charlotte Clark last year have certain similarities.”
    “Really, Detective?” said Pamela, blinking quizzically, “what similarities would those be?” She ceased the swinging leg and planted her feet on the ground.
    “Both murders were recorded,” responded Shoop. “Charlotte Clark’s murder, of course, was recorded accidentally and was only retrievable by your department, but Ted Ballard’s murder was heard by a live audience and was recorded automatically by the radio station where it occurred.”
    “That is an astounding observation, Detective,” answered Pamela. Joan and Arliss were listening and watching the charged interchange between their friend and the austere looking policeman. The more Pamela sparkled, the more distressed it seemed the detective appeared.
    “I just happen to have a copy of the recording of Ballard’s murder that was made at KRDN,” said Shoop as he removed a CD box from his inside pocket. “Possibly, you might enjoy analyzing it as you did the recording made of Charlotte Clark’s murder.”
    “Detective Shoop,” said Pamela, beaming, “are you asking me to help with your investigation?”
    “My dear, Dr. Barnes,” replied Shoop, giving her a curt bow, “I’m no fool. I will take all the help I can get—and as it appears unlikely that Ballard’s killer will be coming forth and confessing in the near future, if you are able to supply us with any clues regarding his identity from the sounds on this tape, I would be forever in your debt.”
    “My goodness, Detective,” said Pamela, “of course, I will be happy to listen to the recording. I can’t promise anything, but I will give it my best try.”
    “That’s all I ask, Dr. Barnes,” said the man, handing her the CD. “That’s all I ask.”

    Chapter 10

    Previous week--Wednesday, late, December 12

    Amy Shuster turned off her little portable television set on which she had been watching the local news in her small living room and shuffled into her even smaller bedroom to get ready for bed. She set her alarm clock for six a.m., knowing she was working the early shift the next day at the diner. Giving her cat Tinkerbell a quick shove off of her quilt, she pulled down the coverlet, removed her toasty robe and slippers, and scooted under the sheets. Tinkerbell howled in annoyance but marched off with her typical haughty attitude to her own bed in Amy’s small kitchen.
    “Not tonight, Tink,” said Amy to the departing feline. “I’m