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“I can see where having an esteemed member of the faculty get murdered wouldn’t be good for the image of the college,” Pallas said. “Parents might have some understandable concerns about campus security.”
“I don’t know how esteemed Fenner was,” Logan said. “From what I hear he was a loner who was generally considered to be an arrogantasshole. As for the concerns of the parents, they pale in comparison to the real problem the college is going to be facing.”
“Which is?” Pallas asked.
“Follow the money,” Ambrose said.
“Oh, right,” Pallas said. “The funding from the anonymous donor was tied to Fenner and the Institute. It wouldn’t be surprising if the Institute shuts down once word gets out that the director is dead.”
Ambrose got a thoughtful look. “If the anonymous donor cuts off the funding it could mean the end of Carnelian College.”
“Yep,” Logan said. “And if that happens, this town is going to be in serious trouble. The college is the biggest employer in these parts. Without the students and the staff, most of the businesses in the area will close. The bottom will fall out of the real estate market. Carnelian will fall on very hard times. By the way, I’m going to need statements from both of you, so don’t leave town.”
He disappeared inside the house. Two uniforms hurried after him.
Ambrose looked at Pallas. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking the donor who funded the Institute doesn’t give a damn about the future of the college or the town,” Pallas said. “It was just a convenient cover for the experiments. There’s only one reason why someone would murder Fenner at this particular moment.”
“He screwed up,” Ambrose said. “Fenner made some mistakes and attracted too much attention. He put the whole project in jeopardy, so the anonymous donor shut down the Carnelian Sleep Institute.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Pallas studied thepicture she had drawn in the front hall of the house Fenner had rented. She shuddered.
“It was cold-blooded murder,” she said. “Not that we had any doubts.”
They were in the front seat of Ambrose’s car, which was parked at a scenic overlook on the cliffs above the bay. The sketchbook was between them. The image she had drawn showed an intricately woven web. Some of the silken strands were badly frayed. A few hapless insects appeared to be trapped in the web. A small spider crouched in a corner, barely visible.
“Unfortunately, Ace Detective Logan needs something more than a psychic drawing,” Ambrose said. “What does the picture tell you beyond what we already know?”
Pallas studied the web for a moment. Her intuition pinged. “The murder was a necessary business decision, but there was a lot of emotion involved. The killer is frustrated and furious.”
Ambrose glanced up from the drawing. “Angry at Fenner?”
Pallas hesitated. “Not in a personal way. Fenner is one of the trapped insects in this drawing. The killer viewed him as a tool that had failed to perform as expected, and because of that failure the entire project was a disaster.”
“We’re the ones who fired up an investigation that threatened Fenner’s experiments,” Ambrose said. “Why not come after us?”
Pallas looked up. “Because we don’t know enough to be dangerous. We’re just flailing around, asking questions. The killer probably considers us annoying but not a threat. Fenner, on the other hand, must have known a lot more about the experiments.”
“Once the spider made the decision to shut down the project, Fenner had to be silenced.” Ambrose rested one hand on the steering wheel and looked out over the sun-bright bay. “It will be interesting to see who quietly packs up and leaves town in the near future.”
“Yes.” Pallas stared at the drawing, her intuition pinging again. “You’re right. Whoever was running what was obviously a very complicated project at the Institute had to be nearby, close enough to keep an eye on all the moving parts.”
“Close enough to step in quickly and pull the plug if things went south,” Ambrose said. He tapped one finger against the wheel. “A project manager. Someone Fenner knew.”
“Think so?” Pallas asked.
“If we’re right, if Fenner was murdered, he must have opened the door to the killer last night. There was no sign of a struggle.”
“Not until the killer was inside the front hall, at any rate. Whatever happened there happened fast.” Pallas sank back into the seat. “We’ve still got a town full of suspects. Damn. We were so close. Now we’ll never know who was running those experiments.”
“I think we can narrow the list,” Ambrose said. “I doubt if we’relooking for one of the locals. The project manager is more likely to be someone who moved into town at about the same time the anonymous donor made the offer to fund the clinic.”
“Maybe there are two project managers,” Pallas suggested. “Margaret Moore and Hugh Guthrie took control at the college about a year before the Institute was opened. They were in a position to make all the important financial decisions.”
“They have to be involved somehow,” Ambrose said. “The question is, how and why?”
