Cliff

Chapter 11 -- Sally Goes Into Action

Sally calls Tom on the phone.

"Tom, is there any special penalty for killing a cop, or is it just the usual death sentence? I'm thinking of killing one."

"Who? Do you mean the Constable? Why him? What's he ever done?"

"Exactly. He hasn't done anything, and he isn't going to. Tom, we need some answers. The questions are simple and so should the answers be. One, What happened to all of Bob's notes and especially his theses work? What was the subject of his paper, by the way? We don't even know that. Who would know?"

"The Dean would. He would at least know who Bob's Faculty Advisor was. You could always ask him."

"I already know that. Professor Lockridge. But I don't want to talk to anyone else until I know who else is interested in this. For all we know, Professor Lockridge is the one who cleaned out Bob's office and turned in his library books. He might have taken the theses notes."

"How do you know the Dean didn't do it?"

"I don't know. I know he said he didn't. I think it's time to stop believing people, Tom."

"Why would anyone want to take all of Bob's stuff? It isn't like it's worth anything."

"I haven't the slightest idea, but someone did. And where was Bob all evening? He was at my place for supper. Then he had to go home, he had something important to do. And I couldn't know about it. But he was going to tell me later, as soon as he was sure of something."

" Then there is Bob's key. It wasn't found this morning in his pocket. So where is it?"

"Maybe it fell out of his pocket when he went over the cliff? Has anybody looked around where he was found?"

"I don't think so. The Constable sure didn't make any sort of search. One key more or less certainly doesn't make any difference to him. He's completely unconcerned that Bob had no way back into his apartment without the missing key."

"Did you tell the Constable about the computer being missing?", Tom asked.

"It wouldn't have done any good. His mind, such as it is, is made up. According to the Constable, Bob was drunk, for heaven's sake. There is nothing to gain by trying to tell the Constable anything."

Tom then told her that all the books Bob had checked out had all been returned anonymously into the book drop and were about to go back to the main campus in the next mail run.

The library at the research station is only a small part of the university library system. It doesn't keep many books on its shelves. Lots of books are ordered through the computer from the main library, and when they are returned they go back there.

Sally asked, "How do we get to see those books, without letting a lot of people know we want to know?"

"Easy", Tom replied, "The go-back shelf will have them until sometime tomorrow when the campus mail van comes to take them back to the main campus. It runs on Tuesday and Thursday mornings. We sneak in late tonight and look at the shelf."

"How do we get in?"

"Through the front door. I used to work there, remember? I still have a key. I let you into the back room. You look at the books on the go-back shelf."

"Aren't there alarms? Guards?"

"Campus Security drives around in it's little blue pickup truck, but they don't ever get out of it. There's really nothing much to guard. Books about icthyology aren't that popular at pawnshops. Icthyologists don't usually steal books from each other, maybe. If you don't show any light to the street, they won't ever know anyone is in there. With any luck there will be fog, there usually is these days." .LINEBREAK

The tiny sublibrary at the research facility was just for the research assistants and faculty at the facility, and wasn't open to the public. Security was not strict, and often there was no one on duty in the building. The last person using the library was to close the door after himself. So why did Sally feel so uncomfortable being there this time?

Although she kept telling herself that she wasn't doing anything wrong, it was freightening to be sneaking into the library in the dead of night. The sneaking part was what was wrong. She didn't want anybody to know what she was doing.

When someone wanted a book they wrote the location information on a slip of paper. On Tuesdays and Thursdays a small van from the main campus came by. It dropped off the books ordered and picked up books to be returned and new order slips. All of this took place at a small bookshelf in the back of the building, near the rear entrance.

All Sally needed to do was look at the shelf of books due to go back tomorrow and try to guess which ones of them were checked out to Bob. To keep from being seen from outside, she did not turn on the lights, using a small flashlight instead.

She used a small flashlight, one of those one-time key-ring flashlights that you have to grip tightly to keep turned on. She also found out how long one of those things would last, and after some time, when the light had almost failed completely, she quit. She knew, sort of, what Bob had been interested in. He was working in Professor Lockridge's field, along with several other students. It was a shame he hadn't left any scraps of paper or notes between the pages of the books, but that would have been too lucky. Sally had looked for that, without luck.

Tom was watching out for her, and once she had to stand very quietly in the dark while the campus patrol passed by. She told herself when the flashlight beam went across the windows that the security guy was looking for open or unlocked windows, and would not suspect someone to be inside.

She looked through the books one by one, keeping them in the order they were on the shelf. There were a lot of different sorts of books, some notes and data, even Professor Lockridge's disertation of some seven years ago. She wondered who would want to read that? She had always looked at a disertation as something one was obliged to write, not an actual contribution to science that someone might want to read. 'Who would ever want to read her's?,' she wondered.

The last six seemed to have some subjects in common, and she was pretty sure they were Bob's. And they told her nothing. Ok, Bob was working on something, and she had somewhat of an idea what it was, but so what? She already knew that! Anyway, there was no more here of any interest.

Just like any other late student, they pulled the door to when they left.

As they walked home in the fog, Sally tried to tell Tom what she had found out. Tom didn't follow much of the technical parts, but he did offer some suggestions.

"Seems to me that if someone killed Bob and the particular fish stories you have been telling me about are involved, then we need to be looking at the students who are studying the same subjects as Bob. Maybe what Bob was working on would really harm them in some way, and they stopped him, for real."

"There's rivalry among scientests and graduate researchers, but it doesn't usually result in murder. Professer L. has the students all neatly staked out so that they won't get in each other's way, or on each other's turf anyway. I can't think why one of them would hate Bob, or be afraid of him, on any sort of scientific grounds."

So they had made little progress. They stil had a dead friend, who was actively engaged in research towards a masters degree, with no notes, outline, research data, or any sign of anything he had done to this point. Why? What had happened to it?