Read Online Sounds of Murder by Patricia Rockwell - Free Book Online
Authors: Patricia Rockwell
Tags: detective, thriller, adventure, Crime, Mystery, Psychology, Southern, college, cozy, female sleuth, amateur sleuth, Murder, cozy mystery, Women, sleuth, sound, female, sounds, ladies, acoustic, college campus
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That would be you."
"No," groaned Pamela. "I don't want to get
involved with reporters."
"Just avoid them. If they ask to interview
you, just say no," she replied, as if it were quite simple. Pamela
wished Joan would loan her the magic wand she used whenever she
encountered a nosy reporter. Joan was a well-known researcher in
her own area of educational psychology, almost as famous as
Charlotte Clark was in the field of addiction. Some of Joan’s
studies had even drawn attention from the local media and she was
well-accustomed to handling the press.
Pamela heard the sound of another set of
footsteps heading down the hallway. She recognized this pair
also--the long, striding, sneaker-clad gait of Arliss MacGregor.
Arliss's head appeared in her doorway. Arliss was lean and lanky
and dressed more like a boy, in trousers, a man-shirt, and a
vest--than like the instructor and lab director that she was.
"My God, Pam!" She entered the office, waving
her arms around. "What happened?" She plopped down in Pamela's desk
chair.
"I wish I knew," said Pamela. "I wish I’d
just gone home last night instead of checking to see if the lab was
locked. Someone else would have found her then."
"Thank you, Mitchell Marks!" announced
Arliss, hands on hips, "Protect our computer lab at all costs! Who
knows what you may find there?"
"Arliss!" chided Joan, "This has been a
traumatic experience for Pamela. Just imagine finding a dead
body."
"And to make it worse--it was Charlotte's,"
said Arliss, pulling a wayward black lock out of her face and back
into her ponytail.
"Arliss,” said Joan.
"Come on, Joan," sneered Arliss, "You didn't
like her any better than anyone else did." She leaned back and put
her feet up on the desk. Pamela was not thrilled when Arliss took
over her desk like this, but it was one of the drawbacks she
tolerated in order to maintain her favored position on her
sofa.
"I didn't wish her dead," said Joan, her
nostrils puffing out as her nose rose skyward. She folded her hands
neatly on her lap.
"Neither did I," said Arliss, slamming her
feet firmly on the floor.
"Please, you two!" Pamela cried, throwing her
hands up in defense. "Can't we stop this?"
"I'm sorry, Pam," said Arliss, "really, I am.
For you, I have nothing but sympathy." She blinked and stuck out
her lower lip.
"Yes, dear," agreed Joan, reaching over and
patting Pamela’s hand. "We both are here for you. You're the one
we're concerned about. Nobody can do anything now for Charlotte
anyway."
"So," Arliss, began again, "What can we do to
help you? Anything. Just ask." She flung her arms wide in a gesture
of conciliation.
"Yes, dear, why don't you take a day or two
off? I’d be glad to cover your classes." Joan offered, flouncing
her skirt out a bit as she edged closer on her chair.
"Me too," agreed Arliss. The two friends
edged closer to Pamela, hoping to provide support.
"No," said Pamela, firmly. "That’s not what I
need. I need to keep busy. My mind is working overtime. I just
can't stop thinking about it."
"Oh, my!" exclaimed Joan, shaking her head,
"it must have been horrible."
"What did she look like? I mean, was it
gross?" asked Arliss, sotto voce, scooting even closer to Pamela on
Pamela's wheeled desk chair.
"Arliss!" responded Joan, "I can’t believe
you. You’re not typically so insensitive." She gave Arliss a
penetrating stare.
"Hey," said Arliss, "I'm just curious. Pam's
the first person I’ve ever known to discover a dead body. Don't
pretend that you aren't curious too, Joan." She peered back at Joan
over the tops of her black frame glasses.
"Ladies," said Pamela, holding up her hands
and calming her two friends as best she could, "I'm happy to share
my experience with you. Lord knows, I had no special feeling for
Charlotte, but she was a fellow human being, so I'd at least like
to be civil, if that’s acceptable?"
"Just tell us the juicy details and we’ll be
models of civility," agreed Arliss, flinging one arm in front
"No," groaned Pamela. "I don't want to get
involved with reporters."
"Just avoid them. If they ask to interview
you, just say no," she replied, as if it were quite simple. Pamela
wished Joan would loan her the magic wand she used whenever she
encountered a nosy reporter. Joan was a well-known researcher in
her own area of educational psychology, almost as famous as
Charlotte Clark was in the field of addiction. Some of Joan’s
studies had even drawn attention from the local media and she was
well-accustomed to handling the press.
Pamela heard the sound of another set of
footsteps heading down the hallway. She recognized this pair
also--the long, striding, sneaker-clad gait of Arliss MacGregor.
Arliss's head appeared in her doorway. Arliss was lean and lanky
and dressed more like a boy, in trousers, a man-shirt, and a
vest--than like the instructor and lab director that she was.
"My God, Pam!" She entered the office, waving
her arms around. "What happened?" She plopped down in Pamela's desk
chair.
"I wish I knew," said Pamela. "I wish I’d
just gone home last night instead of checking to see if the lab was
locked. Someone else would have found her then."
"Thank you, Mitchell Marks!" announced
Arliss, hands on hips, "Protect our computer lab at all costs! Who
knows what you may find there?"
"Arliss!" chided Joan, "This has been a
traumatic experience for Pamela. Just imagine finding a dead
body."
"And to make it worse--it was Charlotte's,"
said Arliss, pulling a wayward black lock out of her face and back
into her ponytail.
"Arliss,” said Joan.
"Come on, Joan," sneered Arliss, "You didn't
like her any better than anyone else did." She leaned back and put
her feet up on the desk. Pamela was not thrilled when Arliss took
over her desk like this, but it was one of the drawbacks she
tolerated in order to maintain her favored position on her
sofa.
"I didn't wish her dead," said Joan, her
nostrils puffing out as her nose rose skyward. She folded her hands
neatly on her lap.
"Neither did I," said Arliss, slamming her
feet firmly on the floor.
"Please, you two!" Pamela cried, throwing her
hands up in defense. "Can't we stop this?"
"I'm sorry, Pam," said Arliss, "really, I am.
For you, I have nothing but sympathy." She blinked and stuck out
her lower lip.
"Yes, dear," agreed Joan, reaching over and
patting Pamela’s hand. "We both are here for you. You're the one
we're concerned about. Nobody can do anything now for Charlotte
anyway."
"So," Arliss, began again, "What can we do to
help you? Anything. Just ask." She flung her arms wide in a gesture
of conciliation.
"Yes, dear, why don't you take a day or two
off? I’d be glad to cover your classes." Joan offered, flouncing
her skirt out a bit as she edged closer on her chair.
"Me too," agreed Arliss. The two friends
edged closer to Pamela, hoping to provide support.
"No," said Pamela, firmly. "That’s not what I
need. I need to keep busy. My mind is working overtime. I just
can't stop thinking about it."
"Oh, my!" exclaimed Joan, shaking her head,
"it must have been horrible."
"What did she look like? I mean, was it
gross?" asked Arliss, sotto voce, scooting even closer to Pamela on
Pamela's wheeled desk chair.
"Arliss!" responded Joan, "I can’t believe
you. You’re not typically so insensitive." She gave Arliss a
penetrating stare.
"Hey," said Arliss, "I'm just curious. Pam's
the first person I’ve ever known to discover a dead body. Don't
pretend that you aren't curious too, Joan." She peered back at Joan
over the tops of her black frame glasses.
"Ladies," said Pamela, holding up her hands
and calming her two friends as best she could, "I'm happy to share
my experience with you. Lord knows, I had no special feeling for
Charlotte, but she was a fellow human being, so I'd at least like
to be civil, if that’s acceptable?"
"Just tell us the juicy details and we’ll be
models of civility," agreed Arliss, flinging one arm in front
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