Stump Speech Murder (25 page)

“Dr. Barnes, Dr. Bentley,” greeted Martin Dobbs warmly, “as you can see, we’re here in force.  I hope we have a sufficient number of people to accomplish this task for you.”

“You probably have more than enough,” responded Pamela, “I don’t know how many video editors this station has.  We’ll see.”

“Shall we go in?” Dobbs asked and pointed the way for the group to enter the building.

Inside, Martin encountered a secretary or clerk seated at a desk immediately before them.  He spoke quietly to the woman and she left through a door in the small wood-paneled lobby.  Shortly after, she returned with a small man wearing a huge pair of horned-rimmed glasses and wearing a white, short-sleeved shirt.  The man came immediately to Martin and greeted him and all of the adults in the entourage.  Martin spoke with the man briefly and then the man led the entire group through the lobby door.  They followed him through a maze of hallways past various small recording studios and editing stations.  At the end of a long hallway, he led them into a large room outfitted with several tables.  On one table were placed four large television monitors with additional equipment surrounding each of them.  Pamela recognized these units as the editing bays.  On the second table, piled up high were a dozen or so DVRs–each marked with a hand-written label.

“We’ve set this room up just for you, Dr. Barnes,” the glasses-wearing man said to her, and then turning to Martin, he added “and Mr. Dobbs, you can assign four people to actually sit here at the monitors and look at the video.  You may want to have your other folks, go through the stacks of DVRs my staff has pulled for you from our archives.  We’ve pulled anything labeled ‘Stacy Grant’ or ‘DA’s office’ or ‘prosecutor’ or anything similar to that.  As you can tell, there are dozens of DVRs.  I don’t know exactly what you’re looking for, so I really don’t know how long it might take you to find it–if you can.”

“Um, thank you, um . . .” Pamela began.

“Peter Simms,” he said. “I’m the manager of WPUR.  As a public access station, it’s our duty to assist the . . . uh, public to obtain access to media.  This is, admittedly, a strange request, but certainly within our mission.”

“Thank you, Mr. Simms,” she continued.  “You’ve been extremely helpful.”  She shook his hand and the man left the group to their own devices.  Immediately, Pamela looked around at the potential manpower available.

“How do you want to proceed, Pamela?” asked Martin Dobbs, his sparkling smile never more gleaming than today.

“I think we’ll probably need to take turns at the editing bays,” she suggested as she looked at the massive amount of material they would have to view.  “Why don’t we start out by taking hour-long shifts and see what we find.  Who wants to view video and who wants to keep records?”

Several students raised their hands and Pamela stationed four at the monitors and seated the remainder at the other large table full of DVRs. 

“Okay,” she said to the group.  “When you’re looking at video on the monitor, you’re looking specifically for the murdered assistant district attorney Stacy Grant.  We need audio from her–but we need very specific words.  It doesn’t really matter if the words are together.  If you find just one of the words, call me over to your station right away.  I’ll want to hear it and I’ll want to make an audio recording of it myself.  The words we need to hear Stacy saying are, ‘My husband . . . outside . . . trying to . . . break in.  Please help!’ Do you have that?” 

The group of students nodded, some jotted down the phrases, and then quietly went to work.  Joan assumed the role of managing the group working at the table going through the DVRs–along with Conrad Gates.  Willard and Martin stood behind the students listening to and watching the videos on the editing bay monitors.  Pamela moved around the room, waiting to be called over when one of the viewing students located one of the phrases in Stacy’s 911 call. 

It didn’t take long.  Within fifteen minutes, one of the students waved his hand in excitement.  Martin and Willard rushed to his side and the student raised the volume so the three adults could hear, and ran the recording back to a segment where Stacy Grant was speaking to a jury.  Pamela moved behind the group and they all listened as the woman on the screen said, “I don’t know what the defendant was trying to do, but I do know what he did.”  Pamela motioned for the student to run the short segment back and play it again.  She listened again as Stacy Grant said the words “trying to” in her jury speech.  Reaching into her purse that she had set on a nearby console, she brought out a small tape recorder, and when the student played the segment a third time, she recorded the two important words.

Gratified that they had found one of the four phrases they were seeking so quickly, she hoped they would be able to find the remaining three phrases as quickly.  Unfortunately, it took longer than she expected.  After an hour, one of the girls located “break in” from a section of one of Stacy’s press conferences.  On this recording, Stacy was responding to a question about how long she thought it would take for her to become accustomed to working for the DA, and she said it might take time to “break her in.”  Pamela took the phrase although she realized she’d have to dub out the “her.”  She wondered if the killer had done that or if the killer had found another section where Stacy had said “break in” as a complete phrase. 

They continued in this same manner and eventually they found the word ‘outside.’

They had gone through all the DVRs related to Stacy’s cases at the DA’s office.  They were now into other recordings for the DA’s office–much more general stuff.  Every once in a while, Stacy would appear in a segment, but the monitor people had to fast forward through a lot of material until they finally came to something featuring the murder victim actually speaking.  After several hours and much frustration, one of the students at one of the monitors called out to them.

“I think I’ve got her saying ‘husband’,” he cried with excitement.  Martin and Willard and Pamela zipped behind him as he played the video at a higher volume for all to hear.  Stacy Grant appeared on the screen.  The DA stood to her side. 

“What a great day for the DA’s office,” said the man on the screen that Pamela knew as Charles Findlay, “and especially for our young ADA Stacy Grant.  Two convictions in one week, Stacy!  That’s some kind of record.”

“I’m certainly thrilled,” replied Stacy as the camera panned over the faces of her office mates out in the audience.  “But it’s not a personal victory–it’s a victory for our entire office,” Stacy exclaimed.

There was applause from everyone present.  Someone in the group pushed a man forward towards Stacy.  It was James.  He laughed and came forward and joined the DA and Stacy.

“And who is this young man, Stacy?” asked the DA, laughing.

“This is my husband, sir!” she responded.  “He’s gone without supper for weeks so I could get those convictions for you!”  The audience laughed again.

At that point, Pamela motioned for the student worker to stop the recording.

“Replay, just before she says ‘husband’ so I can record it,” she asked him.  The routine was repeated and eventually Pamela had all the phrases that comprised Stacy Grant’s 911 call saved on her small audio recorder–all except the phrase “please help.”  She knew she could probably make her case to the police without this last phrase, but she believed this particular phrase would cement her argument because it was the most emotional.  She pleaded with the group to continue to search for the final phrase.  It was now after eight.  Conrad and Martin had gone out several hours ago and had brought in take-out for the group.  They were all tired but still motivated.  Around midnight, a small female student with her eyes glued to her monitor, raised her hand.

Dr. Barnes,” she whispered, “I think I found ‘please help.’”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

“Mrs. Brewster,” said Pamela, greeting the mayor’s wife warmly at the top of the steps of Hap Brewster’s impressive campaign headquarters.  Far grander than the James Grant campaign headquarters, this edifice was a two-story brick structure near the center of town and it looked like the site of major patriotic activity, complete with red, white, and blue bunting encasing the top of the white portico that covered the stairs spanning the entire front of the building.  Large windows towered up from the first floor offices as high as the second story, each window sporting massive full-color posters of the incumbent himself complete with exhortations to “vote” for the man. 

“Dr. Barnes,” responded Katherine Brewster to Pamela as she guided the professor into the inner sanctum of her husband’s re-election headquarters.  Pamela had called earlier and requested an opportunity to visit the Brewster campaign site and Katherine Brewster–possibly still feeling guilty for harassing the Psychology professor–had volunteered to show her around personally.  The political wife escorted Pamela inside and into a huge two-story lobby, complete with glittering chandelier.  At the back of the lobby, a grand staircase circled up to the second floor.  Several hallways led off of the lobby directly.  A lone sentry stood guard at a beautiful mahogany desk directly beside the staircase.

“George,” said Katherine to the old man behind the desk, “I’m going to be showing Dr. Barnes around the facility.  Where is everyone today?”

“Don’t rightly know, Mrs. Brewster,” replied the wizened gentleman.  Probably all up in the main office.”

“No doubt having a meeting,” said Katherine to Pamela, smiling.  “Why don’t we start down here.”  She led Pamela down a side hallway and into a large room where numerous campaign volunteers were seated at tables.  Most were manning phones.  Some were working at tables in the center of the room, stuffing envelopes or folding flyers.

“This is where our volunteers work,” said Katherine.  “We have hundreds, many of them students, as you can see.”

“Yes,” said Pamela, “it’s wonderful when students become involved in the political process.”

“I agree, Dr. Barnes,” replied Katherine Brewster, beaming.  “You and I are certainly not as different as I first thought.”

“No,” agreed Pamela.  “There are many things that we have in common.  I’m curious, Mrs. Brewster. . . .”

“Katherine.”

“Katherine, I’m curious about those very clever ads your campaign has been running lately.”

“Oh, you mean the ones with the little cartoon characters?” she squealed, delighted.

“Yes, they portray Mayor Brewster as a sort of super hero.”

“I know.  They created that ad right here in-house,” she said, the definite increase in her pitch level indicating her enthusiasm.

“Really?  It was very sophisticated,”  Pamela gushed appropriately.

“Let’s go over to our communications suite,” suggested Katherine.  “I’ll show you the amazing equipment they use to make those ads.”

“Wonderful!” cried Pamela.  “It’s hard to believe that anyone could create something so clever right here in Reardon.”

“Oh, yes,” noted Katherine Brewster.  “We have a group of very talented artists and communication specialists.”

“I can see that you do,” said Pamela smiling, as she followed Katherine back to the lobby and down another side hallway on the opposite side.  The two women followed the narrow pathway around until they finally reached a sealed and padded door at the end of the hall.  A glass window in the door revealed a massive electronic control center–far more communication and video/audio editing equipment than Pamela had seen at WPUR.  Katherine peeked into the window.  As no one apparently was inside, she carefully opened the door and gestured for Pamela to enter.

Pamela wandered wide-eyed into the room, its walls totally encrusted with equipment from floor to ceiling.  On the far wall, a built-in counter jutted out.  On it, a master control console oversaw a group of eight television screens on the wall above.  Katherine Brewster gestured for Pamela to feel free to look around.  Pamela moved over to the counter and sat at one of the sliding/rolling chairs.  She examined the equipment on the counter, noting particularly the audio capabilities of the unit as indicated by the various markings on the dials and levers in front of her.

“You must have a lot of people working on your commercials,” Pamela said to Katherine Brewster.

“Oh, I don’t really know,” laughed Katherine.  “Harold doesn’t really discuss the technicalities of it all with me, but I do know that it’s very elaborate.”

“I can see that it is,” agreed Pamela.

Three men entered the room.  The first was Hap Brewster.  He was followed by his two cronies whom Pamela remembered from the rally in the park–Victor Baines and Kevin Sturges.  One she had seen close up at her car window just recently and the other she had seen being interviewed on television.

“Darling,” called out Brewster to his wife.  “What brings you down here to the basement?”