Sounds of Murder

Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Joan was already holding court in their favorite booth at Who-Who's when Arliss scooted in beside her, and Pamela took up her position on the other side of the table. The cheerful Latin American rhythms pulsating through the sound system and the colorful maracas decorating the walls provided just the ambiance the three women needed to begin unwinding from probably one of the most harrowing weeks their department had ever experienced.

"Did you order?" Pamela asked Joan, removing her jacket and noticeably relaxing. Arliss stowed her backpack under the table and leaned her lanky body across it.

"What!" declared Joan, "You don't trust me to order for you?"

Just then a waiter arrived with three frosty large inverted bell-shaped glasses, each with a lemon wedge neatly upended over the side. He started placing the drinks on the table.

"Margaritas for all!" sang Joan. "My treat!"

"You ladies are celebrating?" asked the efficient waiter.

"No, dear boy," Joan replied, her flirtatious eyes scanning the man's torso quickly up and down. She took a cleansing sip of her Margarita and said, "we're in mourning." She lifted the glass in the air and swung her hips from side to side.

"Joan," grimaced Pamela. The waiter looked confused, but handed each woman a napkin and then took his leave. "You are bad," added Pamela.

"If we're in mourning," asked Arliss, joining in the game. "Then this is the wake, right?"

"Now, you've got the spirit," said Joan, nudging Arliss lightly on the shoulder. Pamela shook her head. Her two friends were angels to try to cheer her up and make her forget the trauma she'd been through. She resolved to put the events of the last few days out of her mind and enjoy herself.

"Hear! Hear!" she saluted them. "Bottoms up!" All three women gulped their drinks. "To Charlotte!" she offered, lifting her glass again. They all clicked their glasses together.

"To Charlotte!" said Arliss, joining in.

"To Charlotte!" added Joan, "wherever she may be!" Then she raised her eyebrows quickly up and down knowingly and they all laughed.

"We're terrible," said Pamela, laughing in spite of herself.

"We'll be the pictures of decorum at the official memorial on Sunday," contributed Joan.

Suddenly, Pamela set her glass down and looked at her friends. "I don't know if I can do this," she said, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Do what?" asked Joan, soothingly, "Have a drink with two good friends? Come, come, my dear." She set down her drink and placed her hand over Pamela's.

"Pam," added Arliss, "we're just trying to cheer you up. I'm sorry if we're making you uncomfortable."

"It's not you," she spoke to Arliss, "or you," she turned to Joan, "but since I found her-her--in the lab--I just haven't been able to think of anything else."

"I know," agreed Arliss, "God, I don't know what I'd have done. I sure didn't like the woman, but I never imagined anyone would kill her."

"Me neither," agreed Pam.

"It doesn't surprise me," said Joan. "That woman was more than just annoying. Maybe you two weren't aware of all her machinations--but, believe me, I've been at Grace University a lot longer than either of you, and I know things you don't."

"Such as?" asked Arliss.

"Let's just say that over the years, Charlotte Clark has been instrumental in the demise of more than one academic career," admitted Joan.