Free Hangman's Root by Susan Wittig Albert Page A

she hated Harwick. But I hadn't guessed that she was vindictive enough to turn the USDA loose on him. This was a side of her I hadn't seen. I didn't much like it.
    "I'm not sure it's a good idea to go public with this before you confront Castle and Harwick," I said cautiously. "They'll probably clean things up. They won't want to risk—"
    "Fuck them," Dottie said distinctly. "They knew about the
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    problem and they've had plenty of time to correct it. Vve got the whip hand now. And I'm not afraid to use it, either."
    Never again will I slam my dreams, I thought as we reached the first floor. Outside, I could hear rhythmic hand-clapping and shouts of "Save the Ark!" and "Hang Harwick instead!" The rally was still going on.
    Then, suddenly, the shrieking was inside the building. Rose Tompkins was running heavily toward us, arms outflung, skirt flapping around her plump knees, her Cabbage Patch doll mouth a crimped O of horror.
    "Help, help!" she cried hysterically. "Get help, quick!"
    Dottie caught the heavy body. "Get hold of yourself. Rose," she commanded roughly. "What's the problem?"
    An erect, gray-haired woman came out of an office. "What's going on here?" she demanded, scowling. "Rose, stop making that horrible noise! You're attracting attention to yourself."
    Rose was like a sack of flour in Dottie's arms. "He's dead," she moaned.
    My blood chilled. "Who's dead?"
    "Dr. Harwick," she cried. "He's hung himself!"

    Dottie stared, uncomprehending. "Dead? Harwick?"
    Rose moaned. "I saw him hanging there. It's horrible, horrible!"
    Cynthia Leeds, the soldierly senior secretary, took charge.
    "Stop babbling. Rose. Come into the office and sit down while I
    call Campus Security and the dean's office."
    Protocol, I thought. Everything had to go through channels. I
    put my hand on Rose's arm. "Where did you find him. Rose? Are
    you sure he's dead?"
    "In his office." Rose's eyes were closed. She could barely
    manage the words. "I went right up to him and touched his hand.
    It was . . . cold." Dottie made a comforting sound and tightened
    her grip as Rose sagged against her.
    "I'll go see," I said and stepped back. "Where is it?"
    "One-oh-five," Dottie said. "Across from my office."
    I turned to Cynthia Leeds. "When you call Security, tell them
    to come in by the parking lot entrance."
    "What's going on here?" A spectacled, long-haired male came
    up, carrying an armload of books. With him was a young woman
    with a box of test tubes. "Can we help?"
    I was already several steps down the hall. "Stand at the quad
    entrance," I ordered the startled man. "Don't let anybody into
    the building." To the woman, I added, "Ditto the parking lot entrance. When the police come, send them to Dr. Harwick's office."

    Dottie was handing Rose over to Cynthia. "I'll come too, China."
    "No," Cynthia said quickly. "You come with me. Dr. Riddle."
    Dottie turned her head to glare at Cynthia. "I don't have to take orders from—"
    But I was already on my way down the hall. I didn't want Dottie with me. I was operating on the same premise the cops would: the fewer the better where a death scene is concerned.
    Harwick's door was open. I stepped inside, nudging the door shut behind me with my heel, shivering, not wanting to see what I knew was there.
    His slight body, slender as a boy's, was suspended by what looked like nylon rope from a pipe three or four inches below the twelve-foot ceiling. His head was pulled sharply askew by the clumsy-looking knot, his face gray-blue, his eyes wide open and bulging. He was clad in brown slacks and a rumpled white shirt with a coffee stain on the pocket and the sleeves partly rolled up. The toes of his brown shoes dangled just below the edge of the desk. It looked as if he had climbed up, pushed the rope over the pipe, stuck his head in the noose, and stepped off to dance into eternity. Watch that last step, I thought irrelevantly. It's a doozy. I touched one hand, and shivered. He had been dead for some hours.
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