Mysterical-E

He Said, She Says

Talked to Death

by Steven R. Kuehn

“If you truly loved me, you’d kill me right now.”Her voice was pleading, but the effect was betrayed by the mischievous twinkling of her bright green eyes.

Dr. Jacob Caine paused momentarily, feigning consideration of her request. Finally he gently shook his head.

“I can’t do it Amanda. I love you -you know that- but if I kill you, then who’s going to kill me? I’d still be stuck at this banquet.”

Amanda sighed, a subtle pout on her lips. “I had to ask,” she said, sipping her merlot. “Anything to end this torment,” her eyes rolled absently towards the head table and the heavy-set, balding man droning on at the podium. The tedium ceased every few minutes as he dabbed a napkin across his forehead or shuffled unsteadily on his feet.

“Don’t complain to me, honey. I’m just the university liaison for the Midcontinental Archaeology Conference. Arranging the opening night banquet and keynote speaker was the Conference Committee’s brilliant decision.”

“It’s been almost an hour and a half, Jake,” she complained. “That same image has been on the screen for at least twenty minutes.”

At an adjacent table, a harsh cough drew the attention of almost the entire room. The rustling of the crowd was not lost on the speaker, who squinted over his glasses in annoyance and immediately lost his place. Amid the shuffling of papers, a palpable but subdued groan arose from the assembled archaeologists.

“I suppose on paper Professor James Prinnure looks like a good choice,” Amanda admitted. “Four or five decades as the Grand Old Man of American archaeology, dozens of articles and books, director of the prestigious Griffin University Archaeology Lab,…”

“Apparently he’s finally ready to retire from that post, though,” interjected Jake. “He’s head of the search committee for his replacement. Beth Goldman at Michigan said he has the whole place in an uproar.”

“That’s a bit presumptuous, don’t you think? Picking your successor, like a king or emperor.”

Jacob shrugged, tugging absently at his goatee. “From what I hear he ran the archaeology lab like a dictator, so I wouldn’t put it past him. Heck, he probably demanded to give the plenary speech tonight, too.”

The hoarse coughing at the podium finally drew their attention back to the speaker. Face purple, eyes bulging, Dr. Prinnure clawed ineffectually at his throat. A jolting spasm went through his aged frame as he slumped forward. In the stunned silence that followed, more than a few moments passed before anyone moved forward to help him.

The next morning arrived all too soon, as Jake stood bleary-eyed at the breakfast buffet in the conference center lobby. Sipping bitter coffee, he nodded brusquely at the few faces he recognized but made no attempt at conversation. After Prinnure’s collapse, Caine and a few other conference organizers dutifully remained as the paramedics arrived, then the campus security officers, then the coroner who confirmed that the speaker was indeed still dead, and finally the morgue attendants who removed the body.

As the caffeine seeped into his system, Jake realized two men near the entrance were waving him over. He recognized the shorter, balding man as Officer Daryl Dixon of the Wisconsin State University Security Office. Beside him stood a much larger man in a dark suit coat, glancing around the room with a grim look on his weathered face.

“Professor Caine? Thanks for meeting us. Not the way you expected the conference to start, huh?”

“Not really, Mr. Dixon,” Jake agreed, stifling a yawn. “Sorry, didn’t get much sleep last night. We gave our statements to Security, but still had to deal with the Chancellor and P.R. offices. Everyone was pretty upset, but the conference has to go on.”

“This is Detective Mike Pritzlaff, with the city police,” explained Dixon. “He’s here about Prinnure’s death.”

“I’m gonna spell it right out, Professor Caine,” said the detective, glancing past Jake as two students hurried towards the buffet table. “Prinnure’s death is being treated as a homicide investigation and we only have a short window of time before the witnesses and any suspects leave, once this shindig is over on Sunday.”

“Homicide? That doesn’t make sense. I assumed he had a heart attack or stroke.”

“The coroner’s office came back with a preliminary finding of probable homicide. Poisoning.”

“That was fast,” said Jake.

The detective nodded. “The morgue was quiet last night, and one of the assistant medical examiners is fresh out of med school, real gung-ho. Took it on herself to start the initial work as soon as the body was processed, and she found,” he took a moment to scan his notes, “’inflamed throat and esophageal tissues, and reddish or purple discoloration on the lips, consistent with an ingested toxin.’ In English, he ate something poisonous.”

“Do they know what it was?” asked Jake. “I mean, was it an allergic reaction or…?”

“Nope, and nope. A sample was sent for a toxicology screen, but that could take a while. All kind of different poisons out there and they have to check for ‘em one by one. The lab folks are picking through the stomach contents now but preliminary results show nothing unusual to indicate an allergic reaction. According to the M.E., if the victim was that allergic to somethin’ he would have had a reaction long before the stuff hit his stomach.”

Detective Pritzlaff flipped his notebook closed and jammed it in his coat pocket. He glanced at the growing crowd milling around the entrance hall as the attendees wandered off to see the morning presentations. “Whoever poisoned Prinnure did it yesterday, probably within an hour or two of when he collapsed. That means the murderer is here. At your conference.”

“Are you suggesting that the attendees are in danger?” asked Jake, mentally picturing the minor chaos should they have to cancel the meetings. “Or…are you implying that someone here is responsible?”

The detective gave him an appraising look and slowly nodded. “Right on the money, professor- the second time. Ain’t nobody else here dead or sick, so it wasn’t some random nutcase trying to poison a bunch of eggheads.”

“That’s why I brought him to you, Jake,” said Dixon, with a bit too much enthusiasm. “Obviously we can’t start dragging top scholars from all over the Midwest into a dark room and grill them one by one. Think of the scandal! The University Board would be up in arms, and…”

“You watch too many crime shows on TV, Dixon,” growled Pritzlaff. “But he’s right, professor. Word from my boss is that the University wants this dealt with quietly and quickly, pretty much in that order. My concern right now is numbers. There are what, about 500 people here? For me to narrow down the potential suspects into somethin’ I can work with, I’d have to ask a lot of people a lot of questions. Before you know it, the cat’s outta the bag and the killer knows we’re sniffin’ around.”

“Wouldn’t the murderer simply leave the conference right away to avoid getting caught?” said Jake. “It might look suspicious, I suppose, but…”

“If it were a heat of the moment thing,” replied the detective, “you know, a crime of passion, the killer might panic and take off. But poisoning suggests something planned ahead of time. A smart planner thinks about what to do after the murder, too. If they come up with a lame excuse like a sick or dead relative, a couple of quick calls on my part and their story is blown. I figure the killer had this planned out well ahead of time. Slipped Prinnure the poison and didn’t figure he’d die until later on, maybe later in the evening, and everyone would think the old guy’s ticker just gave out. Under that reasoning, by the time any autopsy was done the conference would have been over and they would have been safely back in another state with more time to cement their alibi.”

“Since no one but us knows that it was a homicide, the killer isn’t going to do anything that might draw undue attention,” said Dixon. “More often than not, the murderer and victim have some history, too. We just have to figure out what that is.”

“Since you’re the Wisconsin State University representative for the conference, we’ll need you to serve as our intermediary as we talk to the suspects. And,” lowering his voice, “according to Dixon, you’ve had experience helping the authorities in the past. The Wardell murder case, and that rock art theft a few years back.”

Caine paused, considering. “I’m not sure if it matters, but Prinnure was getting ready to officially retire early next year. That’s one reason he was chosen as the keynote speaker for this conference. Lots of buzz in our community of over who would take over as head of the Archaeology Lab at Griffin University. It’s a pretty prestigious appointment in the archaeology field. Big salary, director of a huge lab facility, access to large amounts of grant funding,…”

“Hmm. So how does the victim fit into all that?” said Detective Pritzlaff.

“Well, he was essentially picking his own replacement. Rumor has it he was lording it over the hiring committee, pushing for his favored applicants over others, arguing with the applicants, that sort of thing.”

“So someone may have had it in for him, over this director’s job?”

“Enough to kill him?” said Dixon skeptically. “It’s just a job…”

“Well, yes and no,” countered Jake. “A position like that is tantamount to getting full tenure at a big university. Set for life, professionally. Not getting it, for some folks, could be construed as a real black mark on your record.”

“Kinda like shooting for the all-pro team and ending up warming the bench with the junior varsity, huh?”

“Yeah, that’s a good analogy,” offered Caine. “Lots of egos in academia, no less so in archaeology. Lots of competition for grant funding, publications, hard feelings if you trash someone’s article in a paper or journal,…”

“So someone may have had it in for him over getting or not getting that job, right?” The burly detective paused, mulling his next move. “So how many folks applied? And how many of them are here at the conference?”

Jake shrugged. “It’s all secret, kept under wraps by the hiring committee. I know a few folks who were involved, if you want me to ask them.”

The detective nodded. “Yeah, but don’t let on why you want to know. The fewer people know that it was a homicide the better. We’re under the wire here and we gotta move now while all our suspects are available. Dixon and I will follow up on anyone who might have checked out early and the locals who aren’t staying at the conference hotel.”

Jake moved through the bustling conference hall, wondering once again how he managed to find himself in the middle of a murder. I suppose I should be grateful I’m not the victim, he thought to himself. Just then the hearty, almost theatrical laugh of Beth Goldman caught his attention.

“Beth! Just the wonderful woman I’ve been looking for,” announced Jake with a flourish and a grin.

“Ah, Jake, darling!” she replied, spreading the small crowd apart with a wave of her arms. “So good to see you again. I’ll meet up with the rest of you later, I’m afraid. Jake and I must catch up!”

“You’re looking well as always, Beth.”

“Jake, you flatterer. I never should have let you pass through graduate school. My current crop of students can’t hold a candle to you. Half are deadly dull and the other half are as timid as mice. So, how are you and Amanda doing?”

“Fine, she’s great. She has a session to chair this morning,” said Jake. “Say, Beth, I have a favor to ask. It has to do with Prinnure’s death.”

“Oh, that was awful, wasn’t it? Of course, his talk was terrible too but I guess now we know why. He could be quite the curmudgeon, but I suppose we all thought he would be around forever.”

“Beth, I know the hiring committee had narrowed down the applicants for Prinnure’s job. Can you possibly tell me who they were?”

She gave him a sly look. “Do you have a vested interest in this, Jake? I really shouldn’t…”

“It important, really. I can’t get in to specifics right now but I will before the conference ends, I promise.”

“Ooh, sounds very Agatha Christie and I do love a good mystery now and then. One of my many guilty pleasures, I suppose. Well, I was one of the applicant screeners and we passed nine candidates along to the hiring committee for interviews. According to Don Mason, the associate dean on the hiring committee, they brought in five finalists for interviews. Three are Griffin University staff: Doug Beldin, the zooarchaeologist, Shannon Simon, the ethnobotanist; and Melissa Philips, a ceramics expert. The other two are Anne Hedman from Minnesota State and Brad Nolan from the University of Illinois. Hedman is a bioarchaeologist who specializes in prehistoric warfare and Nolan is a lithics expert. His dissertation was on Archaic spear points although now I think he’s doing a lot of research on groundstone tools.”

Jake’s phone beeped loudly, interrupting his reply. “Sorry, Beth, I need to run. I promise, I’ll fill you in as soon as I can.”

Caine replied to Dixon with a text message and soon met him and Detective Pritzlaff in the conference office. After excusing the two student volunteers, he told Pritzlaff and Dixon about the information he obtained from Beth Goldman.

Pritzlaff jotted the names in his pocket notepad, along with their location and area of expertise. “So of these five applicants, how many are at the conference now?”

Jake entered the names in the registration database and scanned the results. “Three. Melissa Philips, the pottery expert. Doug Beldin, who studies animal remains from archaeological sites. And Shannon Simon, the specialist who studies prehistoric plant remains. All of them currently work at the Griffin University Archaeology Lab as research scientists. I don’t think the other two are here. Nolan is listed as a coauthor on a paper scheduled for Saturday afternoon but he never registered as an attendee. That’s fairly common; a lot of presentations have multiple authors but only one or two of those involved may actually come to the meeting. Hedman was registered and scheduled to present a paper but she cancelled a few weeks back.”

“I’ll give my partner at the precinct the contact info for the last two, and he can get in touch with the local authorities to confirm they’re where they should be,” said Pritzlaff.

Caine printed out the contact info for Nolan and Hedman and handed it to the detective. “It’s possible they arrived late and simply registered at the desk downstairs, though,” cautioned Jake. “That wouldn’t be in the database yet…”

“Dixon can check on that, professor,” offered Detective Pritzlaff, with a slight nod in the security officer’s direction. “I need you to check up on the three we know are here. Be cagey, but feel them out about Prinnure’s death and what they think about their chances for the director’s job.”

Caine gave him a doubtful look. “I’m not sure about this, to be honest. If I start asking pointed questions about a murder…”

“Right now, no one other than us and the coroner’s office know this was a homicide,” said Pritzlaff. “Let’s keep it this way. You’re just gossiping with your colleagues about Prinnure’s ‘heart attack.’ As the W.S.U. liaison, it’s not unusual for you to meet with the attendees, ask them about the conference, stuff like that, right? So even if you don’t know them personally you can chat them up without it seeming suspicious. They’ll open up faster to you than they will to two bulls with badges.”

“That’s what you say,” Jake replied grimly. “Feels awkward to me but I’ll do my best.”

Despite the cautions of Detective Pritzlaff, Jake explained the entire situation to Amanda who agreed to help initiate conversations with some of the potential suspects. The pair located Melissa Philips outside one of the meeting rooms following a series of talks on Middle Woodland pottery.

Amanda walked directly up to Philips, a slender brunette of medium height. Jake followed, a few steps behind. Amanda asked for a copy of her paper then excused herself in order to attend another presentation.

Jake made small talk about the conference as they exchanged business cards. He was strangely aware of how forced such conversation seemed, especially in a situation like this. It reminded him of asking the most popular girl in school for a date, knowing all the while she would say no (at best) or laugh out loud (at worst). Finally, he broached the subject as nonchalantly as he could manage.

“Pretty shocking about Prinnure’s death.”

“I suppose, but he wasn’t in the best of health from what I heard. That’s why he was finally retiring next year.”

“I suppose they’ll fast-track hiring his replacement. Beth Goldman mentioned that the process was fairly far along…”

“I’m on the short list, actually,” she cut in, with a hopeful smile. “The interviews were held the week before last. I think it went pretty well but you never know. I’m dying to ask what the next step will be, with Dr. Prinnure dead now, but I don’t want to jinx it.”

“Do you know who you’re up against?”

She frowned, rolling her eyes. “Two others from the lab that I know of. Doug Beldin, the faunal analyst, and Shannon Simon, the ethnobotanist. A few others from outside made the list but I never met them.”

Jake grinned. “I take it you’re not overly fond of your competition?”

“Oh, they’re okay on one level but they bicker constantly if they’re on a project together. Both have been there longer than I have but they’re not very receptive to new ideas or techniques. Doug is kind of a brown-noser and Shannon is so mousy at times. I guess I just can’t see them running the Archaeology Lab. Wrong personalities for the job.”

“Not the Prinnure type?”

“Well,” she glanced around suspiciously before lowering her voice, “not to speak ill of the dead but he could be overbearing and demanding, and as arrogant as they come. If you made a mistake in a research report or grant, he’d come down on you like a ton of hammerstones. Only had to happen to me once; I triple check everything nowadays. Doug still catches heat now and then, though. Not sure about Shannon’s work.”

Two other archaeologists walked up and the conversation soon turned to the intricacies of prehistoric pottery manufacture. Jake excused himself, wishing her good luck with the job and telling them all to enjoy the conference. As he departed, Jake wondered if their brief conversation had really told him anything useful. Sure didn’t seem like it.

Glancing through his conference program, Jake noticed the morning Zooarchaeology Symposium was ending and decided to track down his second target. Arriving outside the meeting room, he was somewhat surprised to find the session still in progress. As he debated whether to wait or go off in search of Shannon Simon, the door crashed open and an angry, bearded figure stormed out, muttering curses under his breath.

“Whoa, Sam, where’s the fire?”

Fiery brown eyes glared out from beneath a furrowed brow, but the angry retort died on his lips as Sam Noggle recognized Jake.

“Oh, hey Jake. Sorry about that. Got a good head of steam up in the session and needed some space.”

“What the problem?”

“Couple of presenters went long, fouled up their presentations and then had the gall to start arguing about “subsistence theory” and “universal governing laws” during the discussion section. We’re talking about prehistoric diet, not abstract concepts that don’t mean squat. Bah!” ranted Sam, arms waving wildly as if he were fighting off three foes at once. “Bunch of crap, so I’m outta here. Wanna hit the bar with me?”

Jake glanced at his watch. “It’s eleven o’clock.”

“What’s your point?”

“Maybe I’ll join up with you later,” said Jake, chuckling. “Say, was Doug Beldin in that session?”

“Yeah, gave his usual paper on prehistoric fishing techniques,” replied Sam, rolling his eyes in disgust. “Short on details, over the fifteen minute limit, and boring to boot. Tried to interject some stuff about poisons used for fish kills, but no hard evidence. Nothin’ new.”

The door opened more easily as the session ended, and Jake stole a glance into the room. Sam paused to glare at a few colleagues as they made their way into the hallway. “Beldin’s probably still in there, fawning over somebody, if you need him.”

Entering, Jake found Doug Beldin standing at the edge of one of the small groups of presenters still arguing over the recent set of papers. Beldin appeared only minimally interested, his attention wandering between groups as he looked around the room. He appeared to be about fifty with thinning black hair and a distinct paunch.

Jake strolled up, hand outstretched. “Doug Beldin? Jacob Caine from W.S.U. I enjoyed your presentation. Our department might be sending out some bone collections for analysis. Not sure when the contracts will go out for bid, but I thought the Griffin Archaeology Lab might be interested.”

“Ah, sure, I suppose. But we’re pretty busy right now. Every new contract has to go through the Projects Director anyway, so send the info to him. He works out the costs with the research archaeologists. We might be able to fit it in, depends on scheduling.”

“Uh, OK. So, did your session go well?”

“Fine, just fine.”

“Upsetting about Prinnure, isn’t it? In some ways I’m surprised the conference is running as smoothly as it is,” remarked Jake, casually glancing through his program.

“Yes, really is a tragedy. But he was in his declining years, after all.”

“I wonder who they’ll get to replace him?”

“Well,” replied Beldin smugly, “Don’t spread this around but the hiring for his replacement was essentially a done deal. Not to brag, but I did quite well during the interviews and word is that I have the inside track.”

He looked pretty pleased with himself, thought Jake. Perhaps a little subterfuge was in order. “Really? That’s great, but I’m a little surprised. One of the other applicants-don’t want to say who- seems to think she…they are a lock for the job.”

Beldin snorted derisively. “Who, Shannon? Her work record is terrible and she never got along with Dr. Prinnure. At least professionally, if you catch my meaning.”

“Not sure I do. Care to elaborate, just between us?”

“Well, let’s just say that how they interacted publicly is not how things were behind closed doors. Bedroom doors, specifically.”

“Ah, gotcha. Say no more. But if there’s something going on…”

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t think she really meant anything to Prinnure, and from what I hear it was all in the past anyway. I think he only kept her around these last few years out of some feeling of obligation.”

Heading down to the main floor, Caine walked towards the conference center restaurant, already starting to fill up with archaeologists as the morning sessions were finishing. Amanda and Sam waved him over to their corner table.

“Find Beldin the Boring?” asked Sam, polishing off his beer and gesturing to the harried waitress for another bottle.

“Yeah, thanks. I tried to talk to him about some contract work but he didn’t seem at all interested. Weird.”

“Maybe he was just keyed up after his presentation,” said Amanda, snacking on an appetizer platter.

“Maybe he’s just a jerk,” Sam countered. “Still, odd he wouldn’t jump at the chance to pick up another contract. Lots of guys fighting tooth and nail for more business.”

For a while, the trio turned their attention to other topics as they lunched on bar food and appetizers. Sam left shortly after to meet up with some colleagues before the afternoon sessions started.

“So, did you find out anything from Beldin or Philips about Prinnure’s death?” asked Amanda quietly.

Jake shrugged, brow furrowed. “Not really. At least it doesn’t seem relevant. Philips said she did well but Beldin thinks he has the inside track on the director’s job. When I suggested someone else thought they had a lock on it, he assumed it was Shannon Simon and blew her off. He also suggested Shannon and Prinnure had an affair.”

“Wow. If that were true, she’d have a compelling motive to kill him. An affair gone sour and then getting passed over for her dream job.”

“Maybe,” said Jake, motioning with his hands for her to keep her voice down. “I’m not sure what Detective Pritzlaff expects me to uncover. Anyone applying for the job has a motive and for all we know it may have nothing to do with that whatsoever.”

Amanda nodded in agreement. “Well, just tell him what you heard and let him work out the details. That’s his job, not yours.”

“I guess. I’m supposed to meet up with them in a few hours. Maybe they can make sense of this.” Jake skimmed through his program and glanced at his watch. “Let’s head over to this symposium on prehistoric maize agriculture. With luck we can run into Shannon Simon there.”

As the agriculture session came to a close, Amanda excused herself as Jake caught up with Shannon Simon. Introducing himself, he complimented her on an article she had written the previous year and asked how she was enjoying the conference.

“Oh, it’s good, all good so far,” she replied absently, nodding to some colleagues as they filed out of the room. Shannon was in her late forties with shoulder-length hair the color of dry straw, streaked with gray. Her smile was polite but she had a tired demeanor that seemed inconsistent with the bustle of activity around them.

“Bit of a shock about Prinnure,” mentioned Jake, offhandedly.

“Please, spare me. There are probably less than a dozen people at this entire conference that will actually miss the old buzzard. He was a tyrant to work for and about as personable as a rotting cactus.”

Jake’s eyes widened, and he shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

Shannon let out a sharp bark of laughter. “I guess that sounds pretty harsh, but I was up half the night finishing my presentation for tomorrow. The campus police had me answering questions and signing statements before that, and it was all so ridiculous.”

“I understand, they kept me around for a few hours, too,” said Jake sympathetically. “Asked about his health, how he was acting during the talk. Like I would know his health history just because he was the banquet speaker.”

“Actually, in some ways it seems fitting that he died at the conference,” replied Shannon. “It was either here or it would have been in the lab, yelling at someone over some trivial matter.”

“I heard rumors he was difficult to work for. Even more gossip this morning since he died.”

“Don’t get me started on Prinnure and his scandals. You name it, he’d done it or was at least accused of it! Stole data from grad students, overly harsh on his staff, critical of archaeologists at other universities. And definitely a tyrant to work for.”

“Well, hopefully your next director will be easier to work with.”

Shannon paused, seemingly put off by his remark. “The interviews for the director position were just completed,” she replied coolly. “I believe I did quite well, actually, so I don’t expect to be working for anyone like Prinnure again.”

That’s wonderful,” offered Jake. “Congratulations.”

“It isn’t official yet, but I have high hopes,” she replied, visibly relaxing.

“I had heard there were a lot of applicants, including some folks already working at the Griffin Lab.”

“Hah! Oh, a few others from the lab applied but I’d hardly consider them qualified for the job,” she replied derisively. “I can’t stand Doug Beldin; he’s barely competent at the job he has now. If he wasn’t such a butt-kisser I doubt Prinnure would have kept him around this long. Melissa Philips, she’s adequate, I suppose, but doesn’t have my years of experience. Plus she’s too friendly with the junior staff, in my opinion. Best to keep it professional, I say. Keep some distance from the lab techs and those of us who do the important work.”

“I’m surprised she would have gotten an interview, if she lacks experience.”

Shannon shrugged. “Prinnure never seemed as rough on her as the rest of us, so maybe she had something on the old man or he just felt sorry for her. In any case, there’s no way either of them will be named Director over me.”

Detective Pritzlaff’s text message was terse and direct, so Jake quickly made his way to the second floor conference room that Pritzlaff had commandeered for his office. When he arrived, the detective was telling Dixon about the information he had obtained. He gestured for Jake to sit down and then continued.

“I also called the Griffin University police department. Without going into detail about a possible homicide, I asked about past issues involving Prinnure. The guy was hesitant to air the university’s dirty laundry without checking with the higher ups, but I assured him it would all be kept under wraps and that we were fighting the clock on this ‘cause of the conference.

“Anyway, nothing out of the ordinary in his files, ‘cept for one incident about a year ago. Prinnure and a former lab manager, Dana Hamilton, got into a big row over something. Not sure about the specifics but someone called Campus Security and they had to fill out a report. Two weeks later Hamilton was summarily fired and Security was called to escort her from the building. Pretty ugly scene from all accounts.”

“Would this lab manager have been in line for Prinnure’s job?” asked Dixon. “Maybe she was biding her time, putting up with him for years, and then found out she wasn’t going to be considered for the director’s job.”

“I don’t think so,” replied Jake. “The jobs involve two different areas of expertise and it doesn’t sound like she even applied.”

Pritzlaff agreed. “Killing him now wouldn’t get her the job, so what’s her motivation? Not likely she would wait over a year to get back at someone over getting fired.”

Dixon nodded. “My calls went nowhere. Prinnure’s housekeeper said his health was fair for his age, far as she knew. He was slowing down considerably but nothing significant like heart problems or new medications. Only family is an estranged younger sister somewhere out west. He was married and divorced a few times but she had no idea where any of the exes might be.”

“I doubt any of them are behind this,” said Pritzlaff, turning his attention to Jake. “So, Professor, what did you find out?”

Jake quickly summarized his meetings with the three suspects, trying to minimize his own opinions on each conversation.

Pritzlaff listened quietly, occasionally jotting things down in his notebook. When Jake finished, he paused for a moment and reread each page. “Any of them seem nervous, uncomfortable with the conversation, fidgety, anything of that sort?”

“No, not that I noticed. Beldin was a little stiff, but I’ve never met him before so that could be his normal demeanor.”

“Hmm. Well, time to let you both in on the latest. I heard from the coroner’s office. Prinnure was poisoned with yew. Y-E-W, a plant poison that apparently kills cattle if they eat enough of it.”

“Isn’t that an odd thing for someone to use?” asked Dixon. “My wife said you have to watch the grandkids around poinsettias at Christmas, but what’s a yew?”

Pritzlaff didn’t reply as he glanced through his notes. “One of the suspects from Prinnure’s lab is a plant specialist, right?”

“Yes, Shannon Simon, the ethnobotanist,” said Caine.

“Seems pretty open and shut, then,” said Pritzlaff, ticking off the facts with his fingers. “Simon slipped him the yew, knowing it would kill him but it wasn’t something anyone would look for right off. Might even pass through during an autopsy. She had access at the banquet and probably has samples of the stuff at her plant lab, right?”

Jake nodded cautiously. “Yes, most archaeology labs have comparative samples they use to help identify prehistoric finds. Animal bones, seeds and wood samples, even different kinds of chert and flint.”

“As for motive, not getting that job could be it, and if she was having an affair with the guy at one time that just adds to it.”

Dixon nodded vigorously in agreement but Jake wasn’t convinced. “I don’t know,” he replied. “Killing Prinnure wouldn’t necessarily result in a change in the hiring process. The committee might decide to go with someone else regardless.”

“Maybe with the shock of not getting the job, and maybe guilt over the affair, was enough to push her over the edge,” suggested Dixon. “She wasn’t thinking clearly and came up with this scheme as a way of settling the score.”

“But of the three, she was the only one who was really honest about how hard it was to work for Prinnure. From all the stories, he was an arrogant dictator and treated everyone below him like garbage. If she did kill him, wouldn’t she go out of her way to make us think they were all buddy-buddy?”

“Thing is, Professor, she wasn’t talking to us,” replied Detective Pritzlaff pointing between himself and Dixon. “She was talking to you, another archaeologist, someone who probably already knows what a jerk Prinnure was. No reason to have her guard up.”

“Plus, what are the odds that someone else would use yew as a poison?”

“Dixon’s got a point, professor. Sure, you can find just about anything on the internet nowadays but why pick something so odd, so uncommon, when a little rat poison would do the job just as easy?”

Jake shrugged, unable to think of an argument to the contrary.

“Alright then. Next step, we need to bring Doctor Simon in for a little chat, just the four of us.”

Jake wandered into the hotel bar, filled beyond capacity with thirsty archaeologists and stressed bartenders. Glancing around, he spied Beth Goodman holding court with several former students. He maneuvered through the crowd of inebriated archaeologists to her table and asked for a moment of her time. Outside.

“Jake, if you’re planning to make a pass at me, I have to tell you that my husband likely wouldn’t approve and neither would I,” she announced with a flourish as they entered a deserted presentation room. “I’m flattered, but you should stick with Amanda, she’s good for you. I’d just break you heart.”

The naughty grin on her face made Jake realize she was thoroughly enjoying herself. “You’re incorrigible, that’s for sure,” he replied, settling into one of the nearby folding chairs. “Seriously though, I need to know more about the Griffin Archaeology Lab director position.”

“I can’t say anything, Jake. It’s all still under review and besides…”

“It’s not for me, not exactly. Look, Beth, I’m working with the police on this. It looks like Prinnure was poisoned. The detective thinks the Director job was the motive. I’d ask Don Mason but he isn’t here, and you’re the only one here I can trust who was involved with the hiring.”

“Oh, lord, I can’t believe all this,” she said, downing the last of her cocktail. “Don told me the interviews were horrific but to end up in murder? It’s unfathomable!”

Jake nodded in agreement, the stress of the past 24 hours seeming to settle on his shoulders all once. “I wouldn’t ask, but the detective on the case is narrowing in on someone and for some reason, it just doesn’t feel right to me.”

“Well, Don said the applicants were all treated pretty harshly and Prinnure made the experience hell for the rest of the hiring committee. He lorded over all of them, and if anyone disagreed with him on even the tiniest point he would launch into a tirade. His replacement, his decision; that was the long and short of it.”

“But no one from the hiring committee is here, correct?”

“Yes. The applicants received the worst treatment, though. Anne Hedman, the bioarchaeologist, was almost in tears and pretty much told him off when the interview was over. Prinnure sat there smugly and simply replied that she had proved his point with her unprofessional attitude. Don emailed an apology on behalf of the committee –without mentioning it to Prinnure of course- but as far as I know she never replied.”

“I worked on the meeting schedule for the conference,” said Jake. “She was going to present a paper but pulled out about a week ago. That probably coincides with the interview fiasco.”

Beth nodded in agreement. “She wasn’t a strong contender for the job, regardless, but I’m certain she had no desire to see him again at the opening banquet. Even if she had the opportunity, killing Prinnure wouldn’t have gotten her the job.”

Jake nodded slightly, considering the possibilities. Perhaps Hedman arranged for someone else to place the yew seeds in Prinnure’s drink. Dropping out of the conference gave her an alibi, so she wouldn’t be a suspect. But why use yew, instead of a common poison? And who would have been her accomplice?

“Brad Nolan from Illinois made it through better than the rest, from what Don said. A strong resume, lots of publications, some experience running a good-sized research lab, and perhaps most importantly didn’t let Prinnure push him around. Most of the committee felt he was the best candidate, according to Don, but they hadn’t met officially.”

“So no decision had been made on the job?”

“Not officially, but I take it Prinnure knew who he wanted. Not sure if the rest of the committee was in agreement but they were going to meet again after the conference and talk it over.”

“Say the committee picked one person and Prinnure wanted somebody else. Who would have won that battle?”

Beth drummed her fingers across her program, considering. She shook her head. “I don’t know, honestly. I think Prinnure might have gotten his way, since most of the hiring committee was terrified of him. Don and some of the others might have found strength in numbers. But it’s all conjecture. For all we know they would have been in agreement on their choice.”

The next day, Detective Pritzlaff asked Caine to bring Shannon Simon to the second flood conference room for a meeting. As he explained it, having Caine escort her would keep her off her guard and avoid the kind of scene caused by uniformed officers dragging her through a crowded convention center.

Shannon looked a bit bewildered as she entered, mumbling hello to Pritzlaff and Dixon as she took a seat opposite them at the table. Jake sat at the far end and quietly started leafing through his conference program.

“We asked Dr. Caine to bring you over, Dr. Simon. Just have a few more questions about Dr. Prinnure’s death. Too crowded and noisy in the conference center, he said, smiling.

Shannon nodded, half-smiling in return and apparently relieved.

“You were two seats down from Prinnure at the banquet table, correct?”

“Yes, on the left, next to Ken Sharpe.”

“He’s at Griffin University, too, isn’t he?” asked Pritzlaff, glancing at his notes.

“Yes, he used to be,” replied Shannon. “He was in the Archaeology Department until he retired two years ago.”

“Does he work at the Archaeology Lab, too?”

“No, the Griffin Archaeology Lab and the Archaeology Department are separate, but there is some overlap. Similar research interests but the Department is primarily academic and we’re strictly research and contract-oriented.”

“What’s his specialty?”

“Ceramics, mostly in Ohio and…”

“And you study plants, right?”

“Yes. Technically I study plant remains from prehistoric sites. Burned seeds and wood, nutshell, the occasional corn cob…”

“So you know all about plants. Including modern ones.”

“Well, yes. Simply identifying a thousand year old piece of nutshell isn’t important unless you can say what time of year it was harvested, how it was processed,…”

“So how a plant might be used is important, right? You’d definitely need to know about that?”

“Of course. Some plant parts are edible, others not. Some need to be processed first, and…”

“Would the Indians know about other non-food uses for plants?” interrupted Dixon. Pritzlaff sighed loudly, in apparent annoyance at the disruption.

“Certainly. Some plants produce dyes, others have medicinal properties. Reeds can be made into mats and…”

“You wrote some articles a few years back on plant poisons, didn’t you?” asked Detective Pritzlaff, looking up from his notes.

Shannon Simon paused, looking at him questioningly. “Well, yes, I guess I did. A site I worked on had a lot of nightshade seeds and I thought it might have been related to medicinal or ritual activity. I gave a conference paper on the seeds and wrote two articles.”

For a few moments, the room was silent. Pritzlaff nodded slightly and paged through his notebook, ignoring Dr. Simon’s inquiring glance. Dixon tapped his fingers together softly, staring at the wall. Caine glanced from the detective to Shannon and then back again.

“Look, I don’t understand any of this. What does this have to do with Prinnure’s heart attack?”

Detective Pritzlaff closed the notebook, folding his hands over the cover as he fixed her with a steely gaze. “Dr. Prinnure didn’t die of a heart attack or anything else, Ms. Simon. He was murdered.”

Shannon’s eyes grew wide, like a deer in the proverbial headlights. “What? How can that be? He, he choked or something during his talk and collapsed!”

“He was poisoned, Dr. Simon,” replied Dixon. “We’re quite certain.”

“A plant-derived poison, in fact,” added Detective Pritzlaff, staring hard at her. “Just like the kind you know all about.”

A few hours later, Jake met Amanda in her hotel room and told her about the meeting with Shannon Simon.

“So, after he and Dixon told her Prinnure was killed using a plant poison, she basically fell apart. She was pretty distraught that she was being accused of murder but seemed adamant about her innocence. Once Pritzlaff told her she was going to be taken into custody, she got feisty about not saying anything and how she wanted a lawyer to straighten all this out. Shannon wasn’t arrested, technically, but Pritzlaff obviously felt like he had enough right there to bring her in ‘officially’ for questioning.”

“Wow. With the medical report, her plant knowledge, and a solid motive they must think they have a pretty good case.”

“I wonder if Pritzlaff has some doubts. He didn’t arrest her or read her rights, and the three of them left quietly out a side door. Obviously if he’s wrong Pritzlaff didn’t want to make a scene by dragging her through the conference center in handcuffs.”

“So you don’t think she did it?”

Jake shook his head. “I’m not sure but it all seems too convenient. If she were going to kill Prinnure, why use the one kind of poison that would directly point to her? Any household poison would work just as well and could be used by anyone.”

“Maybe she wasn’t thinking clearly and just turned to something she was comfortable with. Like the detective said, maybe she assumed no one would suspect murder and not even do an autopsy.”

“I’m still not convinced. If she had the time to plan and select a plant poison, you’d think she would have realized it would reflect back on her. It didn’t occur in the heat of the moment.”

“Well, it’s not really any of your concern anymore, Jake. Maybe you should put it out of your mind and just enjoy the rest of the conference. How about taking your girlfriend out for a fabulously expensive dinner?”

Jake smiled, but only briefly. “Pritzlaff said it would be a few hours or more before they could get an attorney arranged so that gives me some time. I want to play a hunch. Let me make a few quick calls and then I’ll fill you in on my plan while we head down to the lobby. Amanda, if this works out the way I think it will, I’ll treat you to the finest dinner you’ve ever had.”

Fifteen minutes latter, Jake and Amanda positioned themselves in the main lobby. The spacious atrium teemed with small groups of archaeologists talking about the day’s papers. Sam Noggle and a half dozen zooarchaeologists stood nearby, with the target of Jake’s plan on the edge of the group.

“So, Jake, did you hear anything more about Prinnure’s death?” asked Amanda, as innocuously as possible.

“Not supposed to say anything but I guess everyone will know before long,” said Jake, nodding towards the back of someone standing nearby. “It wasn’t a heart attack or stroke. He was poisoned!”

“Oh my god, that’s awful. What happened? Some kind of accident or…”

“No, it looks like murder, if you can believe it. He was slipped some exotic poison they can’t identify. It had something to do with the new director’s job at the Griffin Archaeology Lab.”

Jake paused, staring at the Doug Beldin’s back. Only a few feet away. Was he a little closer than a moment ago? Would he react, have a scene right here in the lobby?

“Don’t worry, though, honey. The police arrested her already so there’s no danger to anyone else.”

“Her? Who?”

“Shannon Simon, one of the researchers at the lab. I guess she found out she wasn’t going to get the job and killed Prinnure out of revenge.”

“Wow, Jake, she must be crazy! How did it happen?”

“I don’t know any of the details, just what Dixon the security officer told me. Beth Goldman confirmed the hiring part of it. Once Prinnure died, the committee went ahead and offered the job to Melissa Philips.”

In the quiet 7th floor hallway, Melissa Philips glanced at her watch in annoyance as he approached. “So, Doug, what’s so important that you had to see me now? I’m supposed to meet up with some friends for dinner.”

“Going to celebrate your big victory? So you can brag how you slept your way to the Director’s office?”

“Excuse me! Are you out of your mind? I don’t know what you’re talking about but how dare you say something like that to me!” Melissa took a step backward, glancing past him. No one was in sight.

“Just shut up! I know all about it. You wormed your way into that job, my job! Do you think I’m just going to accept this? I’ll be damned if I’m going to take orders from you!”

Doug lunged forward and grabbed her roughly by the jacket collar, shaking her. Her cry for help was muffled as he clumsily mashed his palm over her mouth.

A nearby door swung open and Detective Pritzlaff was on Beldin immediately, his powerful grip clamping down on the arms of the smaller man. Dixon and Caine rushed to Melissa, separating her from her assailant.

Beldin glanced about wildly, struggling futilely to free himself from the police detective’s grasp. “This isn’t what it looks like! I just wanted to congratulate Melissa on getting the director’s job. I… I had a few drinks before, guess I lost my temper. I should have gotten the job, not her! I put in a lot more years working for that old bastard. I’ve earned that job ten times over!”

“Is that why you killed Prinnure, Doug?” accused Jake, jabbing his finger in his face.   “He said Melissa got the job, said you were worthless, and you poisoned him!”

“No! I earned that job. Shannon gave him the plant poison, not me! She killed him when she found out this tramp stole the job!”

Jake stepped back from the distraught Beldin, his arms pinned behind his back by Detective Pritzlaff. “For the record, Melissa wasn’t offered the Director’s job. She agreed to play along when I explained my suspicions about you. Right after you contacted her, she sent me a text message about this meeting, and I contacted Detective Pritzlaff. That’s why we’re all here.”

Doug went deadly still as the detective clasped the cold metal handcuffs over his wrists.

“And I never said it was a plant poison. The only people here who knew that were Detective Pritzlaff, Officer Dixon, me, and the killer. You.”