Medieval Murders Read Online Free PDF Page A

out neat piles of materials on the conference table.
    “What do you have?” he asked.
    “Here are the photos. The first set is with the body. The second with chalk outline. I’ll scan these into the computer and put the measurements in for you. I also have some prints. Didn’t find any usable prints on the door or knob on the first floor or around the window. We went over everything very carefully. We did get a good set off the chair by the window. I’ll check for a match with Bensen’s. We found something else that you’ll be interested in.”“What’s that?”
    “On the floor under one of the pedals of the carillon keyboard,” she paused and pulled a plastic bag from her portfolio, “we found this key. Don’t know how it got there, like maybe she tossed it. I’ve checked. It’s the key to the entrance door. There are partials on the key. I’ll see if these are Bensen’s prints.”Pascoe continued, “Here’s a copy of her complete HR file. I thought you might want to look at that.” She placed the file in front of Elkins.
    “Do you have anything else? How about her office?”
    “I’m scheduled to interview her office-mate, a Barbara Castlemain, in a few minutes. Do you want to come?”
    “Sure,” he answered. “You can drive.”

    Elkins held the door open and followed Pascoe into the building. Old West Foundation Hall was almost deserted in the late afternoon. The hot air smelled of dust, old wood, and varnish. They climbed the stairs to the second floor and followed the numbers to 231. The door stood open. Elkins gazed into the large office. A fluorescent fixture, one of the four tubes flickering, hung from the twelve-foot ceiling. Sunlight from a large window cut obliquely across the room.
    Barbara Castlemain rose from her chair and came to the door to greet them. A sleeveless, blue cotton dress, carefully pressed, covered her tall, slender frame. Wisps of gray showed in a tight bun, and a pair of gold half-lens glasses rested on her aquiline nose.
    “Hello, Ms. Pascoe, and this is....”
    “Ray Elkins, the acting head of....”
    “Oh yes, Professor Elkins,” she brightened a bit, giving him a weak smile and extended a limp hand. “I’ve seen you at Faculty Senate meetings.” She motioned toward two empty chairs. “I’m sure I don’t have anything more to tell you,” she offered, looking at Elkins.
    “We have a few questions,” he began.
    “It was suicide, wasn’t it?” Castlemain asked.
    “All unnatural deaths have to be thoroughly investigated. It’s standard procedure. And we need to gather some additional information.” Ray could see her discomfort. Was it just an aversion to talking to the police or was there something she didn’t want to tell? He glanced around the office. The right half of the office, Bensen’s side, was in chaos—the desk piled with papers, shelves heaped with books and stacked with more papers, the floor covered with overflowing cardboard boxes, additional heaps of papers, and two plants, shriveled and long dead, on the window sill. The left side was a study in organization and order, a desktop with only a phone and calendar, books aligned at the edge of shelves, and a small refrigerator with a microwave on top.“Perhaps we should start with how long you knew Sheila Bensen,” said Ray.
    “Seven years. We shared an office since her first semester.” Castlemain stopped, focused first on Pascoe, then on Elkins. “What kind of information are you seeking?”
    “Anything that you think might be helpful.” Pascoe paused. “Were you surprised by her death? Was there any indication that she might be suicidal?”
    “Before I answer the question, let me talk about the nature of our relationship. Sheila and I weren’t close. Yes, we shared an office, but I didn’t know her very well. We weren’t friends, we were barely colleagues, and we didn’t do anything socially. She was difficult and very unpleasant. I don’t know about the suicide. Sheila