Sounds of Murder

Chapter 15

Chapter 15

When she pulled into the garage, Pamela had lost most of the bravado that she'd experienced in Shoop's office. Her drive home had not invigorated her; it had depleted her. Now all she felt was desolate. Despite the new evidence about the dissertation that Charlotte was reading when she was murdered and her secret notebook, she still had no greater understanding of the sounds on the CD. It seemed obvious to her that Shoop didn't take the disk and the sounds on it all that seriously. He probably thought it was meaningless. She wondered if he'd even have their forensics' team examine the disk like he said he would. Ha! she thought, "forensics'" team. As if their little police force would have major forensics capabilities. Pamela knew she was far better equipped to analyze the sounds on the disk; she had the experience and the training. If there was any clue to the killer hidden on that disk, she was certain she could discover it.

She opened the kitchen door. The unmistakable aroma of freshly baked bread filled her nostrils. As usual, Rocky was at the stove whistling jauntily. Candide was hanging around at his feet hoping for some morsel to be accidentally dropped. Pamela deposited her belongings on the kitchen table as usual.

"Hey, Babe!" Rocky called out, not missing a beat in his ferocious stirring; something on the stove obviously required his total attention. Pamela was relieved because she didn't want to endure another interrogation-first one from the police, then another from her husband.

"Hey," she said, giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

"Guess what?" he asked, pulling her into his comfy chest. He smelled delightfully like garlic and sausage.

"You've been baking bread."

"Oh, and I thought it would be a surprise," he said, frowning. "I tried a new recipe. Here, take a bite." He shoved the morsel into her mouth.

"Oh, my God," she moaned. "There's nothing like fresh baked bread."

"Technically, a roll," he corrected.

"Roll, schmoll," she said, gobbling down the piece. "Give me more."

"Now, now, don't be greedy. Let's save some for supper. A lovely little sausage soup with an endive salad."

Pamela broke away from his embrace and started towards the bedroom.

"Where's Angie?" he asked.

"Isn't she home yet?" she countered, turning back towards him from the doorway.

"No, she told me when I saw her earlier today that she'd get a ride with you," he said, still stirring.

"She came to my office in the afternoon and I couldn't leave so my graduate assistant Kent offered to take her home," she said. Her trek to the bedroom slowed as she pondered why her daughter still wasn't home hours after she'd left campus. After changing into her comfortable at-home clothes, Pamela returned to the kitchen.

"Kent?" Rocky asked, licking the wooden spoon and holding it out for her to sample, "He's the one who found the...body?"

"Yes, he's very responsible, Rocky," answered Pamela, licking the cheesy soup from the corners of her mouth, and sighing in rapture at her husband's culinary expertise. "They left my office hours ago. I wonder where they could be."

"Maybe he changed his mind and she's stuck over on campus," suggested Rocky, "I mean, why would a graduate student want to be hauling some freshman around?"

"Because she's his boss's daughter."

" Maybe we should get her a car."

"Good Lord," she said, rolling her eyes, "Don't say that in her presence--not even a hint. We'd never hear the end of it."