Tunnel Vision by Brenda Adcock Read Free Book Online Page B

inane small talk. Once or twice she caught a brief glimpse of Maggie in the rearview mirror and looked away when Maggie seemed to be looking back. The morning drizzle had stopped by the time they arrived at the university. A patrol officer directed them toward the Biology Building, one of three four-story buildings that formed the Science Quadrangle. She parked their car near the front entrance of the building and got further directions to the crime scene from two officers guarding the front doors of the building. They took the stairs to the second floor two at a time. As soon as they reached the second floor hallway Brodie paused, stopping Maggie as she joined them.
    “When we get in there, interview the officers who responded to the initial call and find out what they observed. I don’t care how trivial the information seems to be. Write it all down. You got a notebook?”
    Maggie pulled a small black notebook from her jacket pocket. Brodie nodded at her and they proceeded down the hallway. It was easy to find the crime scene. A small cluster of students and older adults, who looked like graduate instructors, stood at one end of the hall, craning their necks to see what all the excitement was about. A uniformed officer was guarding a set of double doors with opaque windows. He moved the curiosity seekers out of the way when he saw the detectives approaching. Brodie motioned to Nicholls, who began politely dispersing the onlookers.
    “Okay, folks. Go on about your business. There’s nothing for you to see here,” he said without smiling. A young woman in the group spoke up. “We have a class in that lab,” she said.
    He looked at her and said with a slight smile,
    “Class has been canceled for today, ma’am. You might want to call your TA later to find out when it will meet again. Now go on home.”
    The students began shuffling away, looking back over their shoulders and wondering what was going on. When most of them had dispersed, Brodie and Nicholls pushed open the frosted glass double doors. Before Maggie could follow them, a uniformed officer stopped her. Pausing, Brodie walked back to the door.
    “She’s with us, Ted.”
    “Sorry, Brodie. Trainee?” the officer asked. She nodded as she held the door open for Maggie.
    “You’ve got a shield, Weston. Use the damn thing,”
    she snapped. Maggie stiffened slightly and gave Brodie a curt nod.
    The room was a standard biology lab with long black Formica-topped tables in rows. Spaced along the tables were what Brodie assumed were dissection trays with cheap scalpels, boxes of latex gloves, plastic goggles, and an assortment of other metal instruments. The air in the room was heavy with formaldehyde and reminded her of the ME’s autopsy room. Aquariums filled with formaldehyde and specimens lined one wall. There were five sinks at various locations around the room. The remains of a dissected frog covered with liquid sat on the lab table at the front of the room. The frog had been cut open and there were pins inserted into its major organs with a small colored flag attached to each pin. She wondered if she should salute the little critter that had given its life to educate future scientists. A young man with thick glasses and curly black hair sat at a lab table and looked as gray-green as the preserved frog. She estimated his age at no more than twenty-two or -three. Nicholls was squatting next to the man, asking him questions slowly and writing down his responses as she walked over to them and sat on one of the lab tables.
    “He found the victim,” Nicholls said as he wrote in his notebook. “This is Kevin Larson, biology TA.”
    “When did you find the victim, Kevin?” she asked.
    When the young man finally looked up at her, his eyes seemed to be in constant motion. “This morning. I came in early to get the lab set up for today’s dissection. Jellyfish.”
    “What time did you get here?” she continued.
    “About six-thirty, I think. Class starts at