tell that even the deans are scared. Coach Andrews looks terrified. And he’s about a foot taller than the detective, and about fifty pounds heavier…all of it muscle.
I long to point out to the detective that I would not have had to launch my own personal investigation into last semester’s murders if he had actually listened to me from the beginning that theywere, in fact, murders.
But it’s pretty obvious he seems to get it this time around.
I should probably tell him that I have absolutely no desire at all to get involved withthis particular criminal case. I mean, throwing girls down an elevator shaft is one thing. Chopping their heads off? So not something I want to involve myself in. My knees are still shaking from what I saw inside that pot.
Detective Canavan so doesn’t need to worry about me doing any investigating this time. The professionals arewelcome to this one.
“Are you listening to me, Wells?” the detective demands. “I said I do not want a repeat performance—”
“I got it,” I interrupt quickly. I’d elaborate—like how about no way do I want anything to do with headless cheerleaders—but decide it would be wiser simply to retreat.
“Can I go now?” I ask—I direct the question more at Dr. Jessup, since he is, in fact, my boss—well, Tom’s my direct boss, but since Tom’s busy trying to figure out if there are any cafeteria keys missing (a task he seems to relish, since it keeps him well away from what they found on the stove—and the fact that he’s been asked to look is also proof that Detective Canavan is right…the NYPDdoes have things under control), Stan’s the closest thing I’ve got nearby.
But Stan is staring athis boss, President Allington, who is trying to get Detective Canavan’s attention.
Which is sort of a relief, since I’ve had all of Detective Canavan’s attention I can take for the moment.
That dude can bescary .
“So what I hear you telling me, Detective…” Dr. Allington is saying, his careful phrasing illustrative of the training that had earned him his PhD. “What I hear you saying is that this unfortunate matter will most likely not be cleared up by lunch today? Because my office was planning on hosting a special function this afternoon to honor our hardworking student athletes, and it would be a shame to have to postpone it….”
The look the detective levels at the college president might have frozen lava. “Dr. Allington, we’re not talking about some kid barfing up his breakfast in the locker room after gym class.”
“I realize that, Detective,” Dr. Allington says. “However, I had hoped—”
“For Christ’s sake, Phil,” Dr. Jessup interrupts. He’s had enough. Finally. “Someone tried to fricassee a kid, and you wanna open up the salad bar?”
“All I’m saying,” Dr. Allington says, looking indignant, “is that, in my professional opinion, it would be best not to allow this incident to interfere with the residents’ normal routine. You’ll recall that a few years ago, when the school had that rash of suicides, it was the publicity about them that generated so many of Page 18
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
the copycat attempts—”
Detective Canavan apparently can’t help raising an incredulous gray eyebrow at that one. “You think half a dozen coeds are gonna rush home and whack off their own heads?”
“What I’m trying to say,” Dr. Allington continues haughtily, “is that if the luncheon is canceled—not to mention tomorrow night’s game—the truth about what’s happened here is going to be impossible to keep from leaking. We’re not going to be able to keep something like this quiet for long. I’m not talking about thePost, either, or even 1010 WINS. I’m talking about theNew York Times, maybe even CNN. If your people don’t find that girl’s body soon, Detective, we may even attract the networks. And that could be very damaging to the
I long to point out to the detective that I would not have had to launch my own personal investigation into last semester’s murders if he had actually listened to me from the beginning that theywere, in fact, murders.
But it’s pretty obvious he seems to get it this time around.
I should probably tell him that I have absolutely no desire at all to get involved withthis particular criminal case. I mean, throwing girls down an elevator shaft is one thing. Chopping their heads off? So not something I want to involve myself in. My knees are still shaking from what I saw inside that pot.
Detective Canavan so doesn’t need to worry about me doing any investigating this time. The professionals arewelcome to this one.
“Are you listening to me, Wells?” the detective demands. “I said I do not want a repeat performance—”
“I got it,” I interrupt quickly. I’d elaborate—like how about no way do I want anything to do with headless cheerleaders—but decide it would be wiser simply to retreat.
“Can I go now?” I ask—I direct the question more at Dr. Jessup, since he is, in fact, my boss—well, Tom’s my direct boss, but since Tom’s busy trying to figure out if there are any cafeteria keys missing (a task he seems to relish, since it keeps him well away from what they found on the stove—and the fact that he’s been asked to look is also proof that Detective Canavan is right…the NYPDdoes have things under control), Stan’s the closest thing I’ve got nearby.
But Stan is staring athis boss, President Allington, who is trying to get Detective Canavan’s attention.
Which is sort of a relief, since I’ve had all of Detective Canavan’s attention I can take for the moment.
That dude can bescary .
“So what I hear you telling me, Detective…” Dr. Allington is saying, his careful phrasing illustrative of the training that had earned him his PhD. “What I hear you saying is that this unfortunate matter will most likely not be cleared up by lunch today? Because my office was planning on hosting a special function this afternoon to honor our hardworking student athletes, and it would be a shame to have to postpone it….”
The look the detective levels at the college president might have frozen lava. “Dr. Allington, we’re not talking about some kid barfing up his breakfast in the locker room after gym class.”
“I realize that, Detective,” Dr. Allington says. “However, I had hoped—”
“For Christ’s sake, Phil,” Dr. Jessup interrupts. He’s had enough. Finally. “Someone tried to fricassee a kid, and you wanna open up the salad bar?”
“All I’m saying,” Dr. Allington says, looking indignant, “is that, in my professional opinion, it would be best not to allow this incident to interfere with the residents’ normal routine. You’ll recall that a few years ago, when the school had that rash of suicides, it was the publicity about them that generated so many of Page 18
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
the copycat attempts—”
Detective Canavan apparently can’t help raising an incredulous gray eyebrow at that one. “You think half a dozen coeds are gonna rush home and whack off their own heads?”
“What I’m trying to say,” Dr. Allington continues haughtily, “is that if the luncheon is canceled—not to mention tomorrow night’s game—the truth about what’s happened here is going to be impossible to keep from leaking. We’re not going to be able to keep something like this quiet for long. I’m not talking about thePost, either, or even 1010 WINS. I’m talking about theNew York Times, maybe even CNN. If your people don’t find that girl’s body soon, Detective, we may even attract the networks. And that could be very damaging to the
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