Free Murder Misread by P.M. Carlson

hall.”
    “ Fine. Porter, see these
other people to their offices and get McConough to stay with Mrs.
Chandler for a few minutes. Then bring the stuff to 103. Everybody
else can go to their own offices and I’ll be along soon. Please
stay in the building.”
    Charlie glanced at
Walensky. His mouth was tight, his bushy brows contracted. “I’ll be
glad to interview them, Reggie. I know Peterson, Fielding,
Bickford, Reinalter…” he said in a surprisingly mild
voice.
    “ Thank you, Wayne. Go
right ahead. But I’ll take Professor Fielding right now.” Sergeant
Hines offered Walensky a hint of a smile, and Charlie’s tiny
remaining hope faltered. Maggie had been right: the two policemen
were engaged in combat, and losing the damn memo book had dropped
him right in the middle. Well, nothing to do but cooperate. Find
out the truth. For his own sake now, as well as Tal’s.
    Hines accompanied him down
the hall and around the corner to his office. Charlie, walking on
unsteady legs, wished Walensky had come along. He knew Walensky,
and maybe he wouldn’t have felt quite so friendless and threatened
if the paunchy captain had been along. On the other hand, the last
thing Charlie wanted was to be the football in this game the two
cops were playing. Well, help them both. Find out the truth. He
unlocked his door.
    Hines scrutinized the
office professionally as he followed Charlie in. Charlie felt
revealed, almost violated, as the dark gaze hit each item, riffling
through his life. The bookshelves, crammed with videotapes instead
of books. The wood coatrack with his shabby plastic emergency
raincoat and an old black umbrella. The file cabinet bearing the
videotape machine, the television, the sixteen-millimeter
projector. The screen rolled up in the corner. The vintage Wizard of Oz poster,
half obscured by a stack of books that had been crowded out by the
videotapes. He worked so hard to keep things orderly, but under
Hines’s cool gaze it seemed a sty. On his desk, reference books. A
mug containing pencils and his Donald Duck pen, a silly gift from
Deanna. Student schedules. The grant proposal he’d been discussing
with Maggie that morning was spread out in the center of the desk.
Near the edge lay the ruler that Tal had been waving only a few
hours ago. It seemed like years.
    Porter appeared and placed
his packages on the oak chair Tal had used as a soapbox, then
closed the door and leaned against the jamb. Hines said, “Let’s sit
down for a minute, Professor Fielding.” He waved a hand at
Charlie’s desk chair, and Charlie sat down uneasily while Hines
sank into the chair that faced the TV screen. He said, “You do
educational TV?”
    “ No.” Charlie had to clear
his throat. “It’s reading research. How people scan a page of print
most efficiently. The letters are on the TV screen, and we measure
their eye movements while they read.”
    “ Pretty complicated. But
kids probably like the TV.”
    “ Maybe. We aren’t working
with kids yet.”
    “ I thought this was an
education department, like how to teach school.”
    “ Sure. But first we have
to find out how adults do it. Then we can try to reconstruct how
it’s learned. And then, finally, we can design a way to help kids
who are having trouble learning.”
    Hines nodded. “So the idea
is to find the facts about how it’s done, before telling kids you
think they’re doing it wrong?”
    “ That’s right.”
    “ Good idea. Facts before
theories. Same thing we tell rookie cops. Porter, let’s see that
book.”
    Porter selected one of the
bags and placed it on the desk.
    Charlie nodded and pushed
his glasses up on his nose. “It’s mine,” he said
unhappily.
    “ You’re sure?” Hines
asked.
    “ As sure as I can be when
it’s in a plastic bag. You see his ear?” He pointed at the Chaplin
cartoon on the cover. “That little tear’s been there for months. Of
course, I’ll have to look inside to be a hundred percent sure, but
still—”
    “