ACT IV
The blast echoed oddly and was followed by screams and shouts. The two men scrambled out of the truck and headed toward the house at a run. Mark was in the lead, taking the steps up onto the porch two at a time, and bursting into the foyer. There was a cacophony of voices—questions and interjections, and heads sticking out of doorways on the first floor. From upstairs came more yelling and doors banging.
Someone shouted from above, “He’s hurt!”
“Call 9-1-1,” Hardcastle said as he pushed past the anxious cluster in the hallway and followed McCormick up the stairs.
“Are you a cop?” a kid on the second floor landing said anxiously. McCormick gave him a reassuring wave and brushed by.
Another distraught student beckoned urgently and pointed toward an open door. “He’s in there. I dunno; I think he’s dead.”
McCormick peered in, the judge joining him a moment later. In the puddle of light from the desk lamp, they could see Randy slumped over on his desk, a gun on the floor next to him. Mark stepped in, touching nothing. He approached the figure at the desk cautiously, though it was now apparent that it was a corpse with a single gunshot wound to the right temple. Randy’s head had come to rest on a piece of paper on which was scrawled, in letters big enough to read among the blood splatters, I can’t handle this anymore. They’re following me and they’re going to frame me. I didn’t do it.
Sounds of bustle from below heralded the arrival of the campus police. They were at the door of the room a moment later, guns drawn. The judge looked at them, and cleared his throat, uncomfortably.
“We were, ah, just in the neighborhood. Heard the shot. Came on up to see what was going on.”
The older of the two campus cops took a step forward, frowning down at the corpse and touching the neck to confirm the obvious.
Hardcastle cocked his own head slightly, looking steadily at the wall to the right of the body. “Mighta been two shots … two, real close together.” He pointed at a spot on the wall he’d been studying.
The cop looked up, following Hardcastle’s finger to a punched-out divot in the plaster.
“Yeah,” the cop nodded, “happens sometimes. They’re not as steady as they think. First shot goes wild.” He waved his partner off to summon the rest of the authorities then looked back at the corpse. “Kids,” he shook his head, “they don’t know what they’ve got. Happens sometimes, ’specially right before finals.”
Then he squinted at the two concerned citizens again. “You’re Judge Hardcastle, right? Thought I recognized you. But still … both of you need to step outside. We’ve got a crime scene here.”
* * * * *
Back at Gull’s Way, in the den, McCormick had stopped even pretending to study.
“Maybe we pushed him too hard.”
Hardcastle stopped prowling the floor, long enough to scowl at him. “You heard what I heard and you saw what I saw—two shots.”
Mark shrugged. “Like the cop said, he missed on the first one.”
The judge threw him an irked glance. “Hell, somebody shot him, then put his hand around the gun and fired again—bingo, positive gunshot residue test.”
“Who? We were sitting right there. You’d think we woulda noticed someone slinking around up to no good. Unless you think one of his housemates offed him.”
“It’s a big house,” Hardcastle told him, “easy enough for someone to go in and out without us seeing. You said it yourself: we’re out of practice at the stakeout thing.”
McCormick looked doubtful. “And the letter?” he said just as the doorbell rang.
The two looked at each other. Hardcastle went to the door and saw Frank Harper, just as he leaned impatiently on the bell again. The judge grimaced and opened the door. Harper stepped by him, heading for the den without a greeting.
“At least I don’t have to ask if you have an alibi for the time of Randy Power’s death,” he said to Mark grimly. “What the hell were you two doing hanging around there anyway? Oh, and you were right,” he nodded toward Hardcastle. “The second bullet’s in the plaster.”
“Toldja,” Hardcastle muttered.
“No ballistics yet, but both are .38s.”
McCormick shook his head. “I’m not sure that’s really going to cheer us up, but thanks, Frank, for letting us know.”
“There’s something else, though.” Harper frowned, and seemed suddenly reluctant to continue. “We got an ID on those two partials from Mark’s floppy.”
“It’s not mine.” McCormick protested.
“The diskette that was recovered from your briefcase,” Frank enunciated clearly. There was another pause, and no further protest from McCormick before the lieutenant went on. “The prints are a match for that student who was found strangled.”
There was a long pause as he gave a hard look to Hardcastle, and then at McCormick.
Frank sighed wearily. “You sticking with your alibi for two nights ago?”
Mark glanced at the judge, who was avoiding looking back at him. Quietly, the judge nodded. McCormick kept silent.
Harper gave their obvious interplay a grimace and a sharp nod. Then he took one step closer to McCormick and said, ”They want you downtown for questioning.”
To be continued next week…