Sounds of Murder

Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Sunday afternoon proved perfect for Charlotte's memorial service. The weather was clear and brisk. The venue was lovely, thought Pamela. The campus chapel was a large red brick edifice with towering white columns and white steps leading up to its imposing entrance. Oak trees branches hung heavy over the entire building, their multi-colored leaves turning the entire scene into a riot of fall shades.

Pamela had arrived early with Rocky at her elbow. Amazingly, Angie had decided to attend also, when she realized that her chauffeur of the previous day, Kent, would probably be in attendance. As the trio entered the lobby of the church, Pamela was surprised by the large turnout. Mitchell was near the door, acting as "official" greeter. The Dean and other members of the administration milled around, speaking with faculty and potential donors. Pamela spied Detective Shoop tucked in a corner, dressed in his standard shabby grey suit. If Shoop was here, she speculated, quite likely other police officers were stationed around the chapel discreetly listening to conversations of potential suspects.

Rocky was soon deep in conversation with a colleague from the English Department. Angie found Kent leaning against one of the tall white pillars, and the two of them were quickly embroiled in animated talk. Kent appeared a bit more dressed up than usual, having donned a purple jacket. Angie had even gone so far as to put on a dress and flats. Both of them, however, were still arrayed primarily in their standard black. Pamela noted that they would always be ready for a funeral-at least as far as their clothing was concerned.

Over her shoulder, Pamela glanced down at the other end of the lobby where she could see Joan and Arliss talking to Bob and Willard. True to his word, Willard was wearing his all black outfit. Joan was bedecked in a subdued flowery suit and Arliss had on a nice pair of gabardine trousers and a simple white silk blouse. She had foregone her standard sneakers for a simple pair of low dark heels. Pamela was unexpectedly surprised; Arliss almost looked feminine. Bob was wearing a nice dark suit with a rich magenta sweater vest. All of her colleagues looked quite presentable, she thought. Too bad it took Charlotte Clark dying to do it. As she strolled over to them, smiling at people along the way, she listened to snippets of conversations from different groups.

She heard two of her graduate students discussing readings that were assigned for one of their classes.

"I just finished it," said one, "I didn't have time to decide whether I liked it or not."

"It didn't take me any time to decide," said the other, "It stank!" They guffawed quietly. Typical of students, always complaining, she thought, about assignments, whether undergraduate or graduate.

"Greetings," she said to her four colleagues, Joan, Arliss, Bob, and Willard, when she reached them. "Arliss, why are you looking so glum?" Arliss did look morose, even annoyed. Maybe it was because she was dressed up-especially wearing heels. She kept shifting from foot to foot as if her shoes were too tight. She looked miserably uncomfortable.

"I'd rather be anywhere other than here," declared Arliss, "Charlotte was not one of my dearest friends." She scowled and kicked her foot.

"Now, dear," said Joan, patting Arliss' back in a comforting manner, "It's only for a brief while and then we can be on our way-and free of Charlotte for good!" Pamela always loved how Joan managed to find something pleasant in the most unpleasant of situations.

"Absolutely," added Willard, "why don't we all go to the Reardon Coffee Factory afterwards?"

"Great idea," chimed in Bob, "I'm game."

"It sounds lovely," said Pamela, "but I have a husband and daughter in tow."

"You brought your burly sergeant-major with you?" questioned Joan, obviously delighted. "Where is he?" She looked around the gathering.