Murder at the University

"Well, now, Roger, tell us about your new experiments. What type of research are you planning?" Arthur Lewis turned in his chair and by habit when discussing research, the thing closest to his heart after Evelyn, he straightened his glasses with his right hand. He was ready for serious talk. "My work involves working with the DNA in cell nuclei, aging the nucleic acid of specific cells at an accelerated rate." Dewit was in his glory. All eyes were focused on him as he proceeded to expound on the chemical structure of the nucleus, using terms that John Paul would have sworn were more familiar to Tom Walkins than to himself. Dewit's monologue reminded John Paul of the time he had finally understood the periodic table and spent the dinner hour explaining it to his nanny in a superior way, a little brain, proud of itself. Dewit must have spoken for ten minutes, uninterrupted. At first, John Paul could hear Rachel and Marie in the kitchen, scraping and stacking dishes, and then the kitchen was silent. Rachel must have heard Dewit from the kitchen and come back. She stood transfixed in the doorway, her face a deathly white and her eyes blazing. John Paul looked up as she started to speak, a harsh, bitter voice, tight and loud. "My God, you were the one who took my notes, all the experiments I outlined. This proposal you submitted...the whole thing is based on my ideas. All this smirking and preening, Good Lord, you probably don't even understand half of what it says! You're a thief, a liar, you steal! I could kill you!" She raised her hands to her temples in a jerky, convulsive manner, her whole body trembling. She stared around the table at the shocked faces and then with great, throbbing sobs, turned and ran out the front door. In the stunned silence, John Paul looked down the table at the eyes focused on the spot where she had stood, horrified, stricken eyes, all except Marie. She was smiling. John Paul jumped up from the table and ran after Rachel. In the middle of the next block, he caught up with her. He grabbed her elbow and jerked her around until she was facing him and began to shake her. "You stupid little fool. Are you out of your mind, accusing a senior professor, especially an egotist of Dewit's stature, of theft in front of dinner guests? You know University gossips. You've damned near sealed your fate tonight. How could you have lost complete control over a few missing pages? They will think you are unstable. I 'm thinking so myself!" He realized he was still shaking her and stopped abruptly. She turned on him in a fury, pounding her fists on his chest, her face distorted, her eyes blazing. As he had feared, all the pent up emotion had broken out. She was demented. "I don't care, I mean it, I could kill him. I hate him, hate him." Her voice became shrill. "Don't touch me. Leave me alone." She wrenched herself free and ran off down the block. John Paul's first instinct was to run after her and try and quiet her down and talk some sense, but he knew she didn't want anyone. Rachel just wanted to sit and hug her anger and grief to herself, rocking back and forth, back and forth, sobbing until the grief went away or out of exhaustion she slept. Sadness engulfed him. He did follow her until she came to her dorm, waiting until he saw her safely inside. Then he turned and slowly walked home, drained and tired. The peaceful silence of his room was oppressive. John Paul turned on the radio by his bed and lay down on the covers without undressing. Staring at the ceiling he could see the hate in her eyes, these were not the eyes of a cornered animal, this beast was on the prowl, finally free of all restraints to hunt. A troubled sleep came quickly and with it his reoccurring dream. First he was running through swamps, trying to lift his feet from a sodden suction. Some unknown horror was pursuing him. Fog gave way to sunlight and he felt thirsty and hot, no time to stop, have to keep running. The sunlight became a white hospital ceiling fixture and moans and screams were coming from the rooms on all sides of the long corridor. The corridor became a maze. He was lost. The radio was making strange clicking noises when he awoke to the sound of a light tapping on his door. The earliest tinges of daybreak before the sunrise were showing through the window. His mouth tasted dry. He looked down. Apparently he had gone to sleep in his clothes. When he moved, his back was stiff and his right arm was asleep. The rapping on his door continued. "I'm coming," he said. He grasped the brass knob to brace himself and opened the door. Mrs. Manning was standing in the hall, fully and carefully dressed. She looked older and tireder than she had yesterday. She lifted the beautiful, hooded eyes to his and quietly said, "John Paul, Dr. and Mrs. Dewit are dead. The police believe they have been murdered."