Free Sounds of Murder by Patricia Rockwell Page B

said, "Detective,
I’d have no idea what sort of topic Dr. Clark was investigating--if
she was--probably something to do with addiction. If you really
must know, you can probably contact the subscription services-–Dr.
Marks can give you their contact information--and they could track
it down. But, anyway, I just don't see how knowing what she was
researching would help find who killed her."
    "Dr. Barnes," he said, staring at her
intently, his shaggy brows lowered, "It may not have anything to do
with her murder, but we’re investigating all possibilities. We’re
working on the assumption that this was not a random killing. We
believe--and I am guessing you might be too--given you have
'thought about nothing else,' that Dr. Clark was not the victim of
a random crime. We believe, at least at the moment, that someone
sought her out and intentionally murdered her."
    Pamela cringed. Yes, she’d thought that. But
to have Shoop say it formally was frightening for Pamela.
    "Just because there was no evidence of theft
in the lab?" she asked.
    "That," he responded, "and other things. For
one, the killer didn’t appear to be looking for anything.
Apparently, the killer went directly to Dr. Clark and strangled
her. Also, there is the fact that the killer picked a time when Dr.
Clark was alone, a time when it would be unlikely that anyone else
would be around and the killing could be accomplished without
witnesses. This murder has all the hallmarks of an intentional
crime, Dr. Barnes. That’s why I’m back here talking to you. I want
you to dig deep into your memory and pull out anything you
remember, either from the events that took place when you
discovered the body or any other occurrence that might--even in the
slightest way--relate to this crime.” He leaned forward and spoke
in a conspiratorial voice, “Because, Dr. Barnes, this is a murder.
There is a killer out there and we don't know who he--or
she--is."
    "You don't suspect me, do you?" she asked,
suddenly flustered.
    "No, not at the moment," he responded, "But
for the moment, you--and your young assistant--are our only sources
of concrete information. We really need your help."
    "Are you telling me, Detective Shoop," she
phrased her words carefully, "that you believe Charlotte's killer
is someone in our department?”
    "It’s quite possible, Dr. Barnes," he
replied, "and until we’re certain otherwise, I'd advise you to be
very careful who you talk to and what you say. As the person who
discovered the body, you may have special knowledge that may lead
us to the killer--even if you don't realize it. The killer may
perceive you as a threat and your life could be in danger. I don't
say this to scare you, Dr. Barnes, but only to urge you to be
cautious in what you say and do. If the killer is one of your
colleagues or a staff member or a student, you might inadvertently
reveal information which the killer might consider threatening and
thus jeopardize your own welfare.”
    “I couldn’t believe that...,” she stammered,
but the detective continued.
    “I noticed,” he said, speaking softly but
intently, “when I came in that there was a group of your colleagues
here chatting. Now, I'm sure they were all just very concerned
about you, and their presence gave you a sense of support, but, Dr.
Barnes, you don't know who you can trust. So, for the moment, until
we catch this person, I'd advise you to keep conversations with
people on campus to a minimum--or at least--avoid discussing the
murder."
    She absorbed this information and the
policeman's suggestions. It was difficult to believe that she was
in any danger--particularly from her friends and co-workers. Even
so, she vowed to do as the man requested.
    "All right, Detective," she nodded, "if you
think that's best, I’ll be very discreet."
    "Good," he said, smiling his sad smile and
looking over his notebook, which he finally closed and placed back
in his shirt pocket. He pushed himself out of the sofa where