Free Medieval Murders by Aaron Stander Page A

didn’t want to interrupt you. Ben, this here’s Elkins from University Police. He’s investigating that death over at the carillon, and he’s got some questions about keys.”
    “Horrible thing,” said Beyers. “I’ve been around here a long time, and I can never remember anything like that. Was she some kind of wacko or something?”
    “We’re trying to figure it out,” said Ray. “I need to know about the key system.” He held out the key in the plastic bag. “That’s an AC001 key,” Ben looked at the key through the bag.
    “What does that mean?” asked Elkins.
    “A bit of history here. It’s one of the old series. There wasn’t any key system until the 50s when the college started to grow real fast. That’s when they put in the first key system. It was used in all the new buildings, and they eventually converted most of the locks in the old buildings. It’s a real simple system, or at least it was in the beginning. The master key that would open everything had the AC001, ‘AC’ for ‘All Campus’ and the ‘001’ was, well, I’m not sure. The other keys had letters and numbers to identify buildings and rooms. Faculty members get a key to their office and that key also opens the exterior door of the building. Department chairs have a key that opens all the doors in their department, deans have the same kind of thing, but for the area they manage.
    “When we became a university in the early 60s that master code was changed to ‘AU’. So I can tell you that key,” he pointed to the key in the plastic bag, “is from before sixty-two. There are very few of those around anymore. The ‘AUs’ will open the ‘ACs’, but it won’t work the other way.”
    “Who has access to master keys?”
    “Pretty much limited to maintenance people: custodians, electricians, plumbers, the supervisors in the paint and carpentry shops. Police and fire have them, too.”
    “How many of the master keys are in circulation?” asked Elkins.
    “Can’t tell you for sure. We’ve ordered thousands of blanks, maybe tens of thousands over the years. I’ve never kept records of how many of a given key I cut, but I’ve made a lot of those. You know, we have people that need them day to day, and keys get lost. People quit and take them along. Contractors, they’re the worst, they don’t return them. Given how many are probably floating out there, I guess we’re damn lucky we don’t have more problems.”
    “How about the carillonneur?”
    “That’s ole Percival Pennington, but he don’t have a master. He’s got a key for just that building. He has a second key for his office and the entrance doors in the music school. He loses his keys at least once a year, usually more, and the replacements I give him are just cut for those doors. Let me show you.” He went to one of several gray metal cabinets hanging on the wall, opened it, turned several hinged leaves, like pages in a book, and removed two keys held together on a thin metal ring. “I always do both his keys, his office and the carillon, as a set. And I make up several sets at a time, knowing he’ll be needing them.” Beyer lifted a key set off the hook. He removed one of the keys from the ring. He turned several leaves in the storage cabinet and removed a second key. He put this key against the key that would only open the carillon door. “Look at these two. If you compare that AC001 with this one, you can see the difference.”
    “Yes, I see it. So Pennington would never have had an AC001?”
    Beyer rubbed his chin as he thought about the question. “Well, if truth be told, I might have given him an AC001 a time or two over the years. I always have an inventory of those. And in that particular lock in the carillon, they work better. That lock never gets enough use. It’s always cranky. The master key works better. Besides, I wasn’t worried about Professor Pennington running around campus opening doors he shouldn’t.”
    Beyer picked up the