Alex and Genevieve started down the hallway when they heard footsteps behind them. Glancing over their shoulders, they saw Cari hurrying after them. They turned around and waited for her.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I just wanted to ask a question.”
“Shoot,” Alex said to her.
“I don’t want to hurt your investigation. I may not be a front-page journalist yet, but I am familiar with how the police prefer to handle the media.”
“This doesn’t sound like a question.”
“Let her finish, Alex.” Genevieve rebuked him.
“What I’m trying to ask is…can I get an exclusive? I have been following this since day one—since Ithaca collapsed. You wouldn’t have known these deaths were related without me.”
Alex grunted and maybe snorted too, but Genevieve spoke first. “We understand where you’re coming from Cari. I’m not saying no, okay? We’ll do what we can. That’s the best I can offer.”
Alex glared at her and started walking down the hallway again. Genevieve smiled at her friend and then turned to follow her partner. She knew that Cari was the newspaper’s sportswriter and wondered how she was going to get control of this story before their lead reporter took it. She shook the thought from her head, reminding herself to focus on the problems at hand. She joined Alex at their desks.
“Okay, so this Niles kid was chasing the girlfriend for one of two reasons: one, he wanted to know if she had told anyone else about the powder and or two, he wanted to know specifically who she had told about the powder.”
“We’re now assuming that this powder is the nutritional supplement, right?” Alex asked.
“I think that’s a fair assumption.” She wrote powder above the arrow connecting Hartfeld and Delamont. “Clearly, the athletes in the program don’t want it to end. They would lose their advantage.”
“Right. We know Hartfeld took out Delamont, but who strangled Hartfeld?” He pulled up the images from the crime scene on his computer. “Look at the bruising on his neck. Whoever did this has large hands. I think we can rule out the four females unless you remember one of them having man hands.”
Genevieve gave him the side eye. “I agree; the bruising was made by a man, not a woman. Also, Hartfeld was reasonably tall, so whoever did this would need to be a certain height to get the right leverage.”
“Unless Hartfeld was bent over with his hamsters when it happened.”
“What was the time of death? Did the ME send us his report yet?”
Alex clicked around on his computer. “Got the initial results. Time of death was between 5:30 and 6:00 in the evening. What time was our young friend chasing down co-eds on campus?”
Genevieve looked at her call history to see what time Cari had called her the night before. “It was right around eight o’clock. I don’t think we can rule Mr. Niles out for this unless he can give us an alibi.”
“We need to check Hartfeld’s phone record and see who was harassing him. He said in the video that he was getting texts from an unknown number. Will the cell phone company be able to provide a number that was made hidden?”
“I hope so. It seems likely that whoever was bothering Hartfeld is our murderer.”
* * * * * * * * * *
Cari’s phone buzzed with an incoming call. Ollaman! She should probably answer it away from Marjorie, but she didn’t want to leave the young woman alone again. She swiped her thumb across the screen and answered the call.
“Mr. Ollaman! What can I do for you today?”
“Miss Turnlyle,” he spat her name out. “I was just informed that there has been another death on the Onore campus.”
“Sir?” Cari asked timidly.
“I have also been informed that your car was spotted at the police station this morning. I can’t imagine why my star sportswriter would be at the police station. Are they having a corn hole tournament or something, my dear?” He asked sarcastically.
“Sir, I can explain.”
“I’m waiting.”
Cari took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She only had one chance to get this right. “You see, sir. Last Friday at the track meet, one of the runners collapsed in the middle of the race. I thought it seemed suspicious, so I looked into it some more. One thing led to another and I’ve kind of found myself in the middle of a big investigation, sir. I know you asked me to stay out of Cardian’s way. I did not intend to overstep my bounds; I was just following the leads as they came.”
“Last night you asked me to take down a tweeter thing, what? My wife says it’s a tweet. Fine, a tweet that Cardian had posted on the internet. Fine, on Twitter. Stop interrupting me, Woman! Am I to believe that Cardian took that from you? The last time he talked to me, he didn’t have a single lead on the Delamont case. How did you come to connect these dots when my veteran reporter could not?”
“Sir? Well, you see, honestly, some of it was luck. If I hadn’t been covering that track meet on Friday, I wouldn’t have seen Mr. Ithaca—” she glanced at Marjorie, suddenly remembering that she wasn’t the only one in the room. “Mr. Ithaca collapse and, unfortunately, die. My gut told me that it wasn’t really natural causes and the police have confirmed that sir. I’m hoping to have the whole story for you soon. I understand if you want me to turn my notes over to Lionel. He is the lead reporter after all.” She held her breath.
“Turn your notes? What? You are a nice young lady, but you have to take the reins when they are handed to you! This is your story. Run with it. Keep me posted. I’ll take care of Lionel.” He ended the call.
Cari let out her breath. She had fully expected her boss to give her another lecture on knowing her place. She blinked, wondering if the conversation had really happened. Before she could pinch herself, she heard a sniffle come from Marjorie.
“Oh, Marjorie! I didn’t mean for—”
“It’s okay, Cari. You are a good person. I can see that. I know this story means a lot to you, but I have also seen you spring into action to help someone you hardly know just because she asked. You might not know this, but our school, Onore University is all about honor. It’s one of the founding tenants of the school. You have to have a background of integrity and honor or they won’t even look at your application. You deserve to tell this story. It won’t be a proud moment for Onore, but it is a story that needs to be told.”
Cari was shocked by the kindness and fortitude the young woman was showing her. “Thank you so much. Your words mean a lot to me. I will do my best to honor Stephen’s memory in my article.”
Marjorie looked at her watch. “I should probably call Stephen’s parents and give them an update. Do you think the detectives are going to have the medical examiner check to see if he has that Rhabdo-whatever-disease?”
“They might have already done it. I’ll make a note to ask when they come back.”
* * * * * * * * * *
Genevieve sat in the interview room with another young athlete. He had short, blonde hair and brown eyes. He was slumped in his chair and his face was downcast.
“Mr. Debony, do you know why we brought you in this morning?”
He looked around the room, like the answer might be written on one of the walls. “I’m guessing it’s because of Dr. Hartfeld. I saw an announcement that he was dead and so my biochemistry class was canceled today. I don’t know why I’m the only student of his here, though.”
“Mr. Debony, did you ask Dr. Hartfeld to meet you at his office yesterday?”
“I did, but he wasn’t there to let me in! I waited for fifteen minutes in the cold!” He looked off to the corner of the room.
Genevieve looked at him quizzically. “You can’t enter the building with your school ID?”
“That only works at the gym. You have to be a GTA, uh, a graduate teaching assistant, or a professor to get into the regular buildings on the weekends.” He shrugged.
“So, you never saw Dr. Hartfeld yesterday afternoon?”
“What? No! Wait. Do you think I killed him? What are you, crazy?” He sat upright in his chair.
“I’ll be asking the questions, Mr. Debony.”
“Fine.” He shrugged again and slumped back into his chair.
“What can you tell me about AD Whitham?”
“AD…oh, Coach Whitham? I mean, he’s okay. I don’t know him very well.”
“I think you know him better than most athletes, isn’t that right?”
“What? Oh man. Is he dead too?” Debony moaned.
“No, Mr. Debony. AD Whitham is alive and, well, he’s alive.” She stopped short of saying more.
“Then what do you mean, I knew him better?”
Genevieve pulled out two sheets of paper from the file in front of her. “You have been calling and texting AD Whitham quite extensively over the last two days.” She set the two sheets in front of him.
“He was calling me too! And what’s wrong with that?”
“Why did your athletic director need to communicate with you so heavily over this past weekend?”
Debony looked to the corner of the room again. “We had a problem with our nutrition program.”
“Ah, yes. The infamous nutrition program. Well, Mr. Debony, you can cut the crap. I know all about your little program. The protein supplement, the, uh, powder as you call it, has been found and will no longer be distributed to any students.”
Debony’s eyes grew wide. “You can’t do that! There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s just a supplement. It’s not illegal.”
“Not yet. Now, you were saying about AD Whitham?”
Debony sighed. “I didn’t have a choice! He’s in charge of all the scholarships! I NEED my scholarship. I didn’t lay a hand on Hartfeld. I wouldn’t do that, no matter who was asking me to.”