Free 1 The Question of the Missing Head by E. J. Copperman

were surprised by my actions.
    “It is my time for exercise,” I explained. Ms. Washburn immediately smiled and nodded, but Commander Johnson’s demeanor was unchanged. “So please, commander, if you would?”
    “Oh! Yes. Well, when I arrived, Feliz told me he had run the routine sweep of the facility at zero hour and at oh-three-hundred, and had found nothing amiss. But when he returned to the storage chamber at oh-six-hundred, he found the door ajar and the power disconnected from one receptacle.”
    Johnson watched me until I was behind him, shook his head a bit, and went on. “Thinking that someone had badly handled the one receptacle, and fearful that the guest inside might be damaged, Feliz reconnected the power cable immediately, and then called Dr. Lanier to check on the guest. He said she arrived very quickly, and upon examining the container, discovered it empty.”
    “So it was Dr. Lanier who confirmed that nothing was in the disconnected receptacle?”
    “Yes,” Commander Johnson nodded. “As the ranking medical expert on that shift, she would be the one to look into any unusual activity among the guests.”
    I was on my eighth lap around the room. This was not going as quickly as exercising at my office, because the room was smaller and more fully furnished, and I had to dodge chairs whenever I passed Ms. Washburn or Commander Johnson. But another eighteen laps were necessary, and there was no avoiding them.
    “Did you examine the chamber and determine how someone got in to do the damage?” I asked, breathing just a little heavily.
    I couldn’t see Commander Johnson’s face at that moment, but his tone suggested he was insulted. “Of course!” he bellowed. “It was a serious security breach, and I am the chief of security.”
    A moment passed before I realized that he was not going to elaborate further. I’d made up almost a third of a lap before I asked, “How did you determine the break-in was accomplished?”
    “There was no evidence of a break-in,” the commander said, his voice once again taking on a conversational tone. “No scratches on the doors or the locks, the keypads, or the windows. Nothing.”
    “And when you reviewed the video taken at the entrance to the chamber?”
    “No one entered through that door between the time Feliz did his oh-three-hundred sweep and the time he returned at oh-six-hundred,” Commander Johnson replied.
    “On the contrary,” I said. “Someone must have entered, or the damage would not have occurred. What you’re saying is that the video recorders did not register someone entering during that time period.”
    “I suppose so,” he allowed.
    I was on lap number thirteen, the halfway point, when I asked, “What about an analysis of the video surveillance from after the break-in?”
    “Why would I look at the video from after the break-in?” Commander Johnson wanted to know.
    Ms. Washburn answered for me. “Because that is when Dr. Springer came back to the storage chamber and someone killed her,” she said.
    “That’s a matter for the police,” the commander sniffed. “They are no doubt looking at those time periods now.”
    “Why didn’t you call the police when the head was discovered missing?” I asked. “Wouldn’t that be standard procedure?”
    Commander Johnson nodded enthusiastically and pointed a finger at me, which was confusing. I hadn’t had anything to do with the decision not to inform the authorities. “That’s exactly what I told Dr. Ackerman we should do. But he was so worried about anybody finding out—and if it were in the police reports, the newspapers would know—that we never called the police. But I made sure my objection was on the record.”
    Six laps to go. My arms were getting tired, and I felt a comfortable bead of sweat just under my hairline, which indicated the exercise was having its desired effect. I asked the commander what steps he had taken to secure the area after Ms. Masters-Powell’s remains