Read Sounds of Murder for Free Online

for
Charlotte to open the lab, went in, strangled her, and then...stole
something? Stole what? If something major had been taken, Pamela
hadn't noticed. She supposed the thief could have taken some small
items, but, for God's sake, why murder someone for petty theft? It
was driving her crazy.
    Driving. Yes, driving. Just concentrate on
driving. She was whizzing past fields now going around 70. This was
the quieter part of her drive; she preferred this segment usually,
but not tonight. It was too dark, too quiet. What if her car broke
down out here? She started pondering again the events of the night.
What had she seen when she entered the lab? What exactly did
Charlotte look like? Charlotte was seated in Carrel #4, Pamela
remembered. Was the computer screen on? Yes, she was sure of it.
That meant that Charlotte must have been working on the computer,
probably using the subscriber databases. What was she researching?
Why would Charlotte have this horrendous fight with Mitchell and
then run to the lab to do research? Did her computer research have
something to do with Mitchell and their fight? That’s ridiculous.
She was probably just working on her addiction research. Pamela
tried to remember what Charlotte was working on—what was on the
computer screen. She simply couldn’t picture it and it was too late
now to find out because Charlotte’s body had probably been removed
and the police had no doubt checked the computer for evidence and
turned it off. Oh, Charlotte was probably just doing her addiction
research. For Pamela, it was hard enough keeping track of her own
research much less remember what studies all her colleagues were
doing too. It was unlikely that Charlotte was collecting her own
data. She was probably doing some sort of background research for
one of her projects. That would be why she was in the lab and not
working in her office; she needed information from the online
subscription databases. She tried to remember what was on the
screen when she had found Charlotte’s body.
    Now on Pamela’s right was All America
gym--where her daughter had studied gymnastics for many years when
she was younger. Those were easier, happier days when Angie was in
grade school; there was so much more drama now that Angie was a
teenager. A few more blocks and she’d be home. Rocky would be there
waiting for her. What would she say to him? When she’d called him
earlier, she'd only told him that someone had died and that she’d
be late. He must be crazy with worry. Oh, God, please, give her
strength to get through this.
    A rabbit--no, a squirrel--bounded across the
narrow road onto which she’d just turned off Jackson Drive. Pamela
slammed the brakes suddenly. Her car screeched to a halt and her
body lurched forward, straining at her seat belt. She paused a
moment to catch her breath, then carefully, ever so carefully,
started back on her way. There was much less light on these narrow
residential streets and the last thing she wanted to do was hit
something--like a family pet or—worse--a person.
    She thought back to Charlotte, slumped over.
That power cord, dangling. The computer screen was lit up brightly,
she was sure. What else? What else was Charlotte doing? Surely she
wasn't recording; that wasn't something Charlotte typically did
even though she could have recorded from the carrel she was in. And
what did it matter what she was doing, thought Pamela. Why does
what she was doing necessarily have anything to do with her murder?
If the killer was a thief, he could have followed her into the lab
and Charlotte was just in the way.
    No, reasoned Pamela. She wasn't just in the
way. If that were the case, we’d surely have found her body in the
doorway, as if she were trying to prevent someone from entering or
leaving, possibly. The fact that she was seated and had been
strangled from behind, said to Pamela--and it said it to her quite
suddenly--that Charlotte was murdered intentionally and the killer
had sneaked up on