Power of Suggestion (6 page)

“So that people may not even be aware of them?” Bess put in.

“Exactly,” Professor Edberg replied, beaming at her. “My theory—and that of other experimenters, I might add—is that the best way to deal with any negative attitudes is to attack them directly. Go straight to the subconscious, bypassing the conscious mind.”

Bess leaned forward in her chair. “That's so fascinating! How do you do it?”

“I was coming to that.” Edberg smiled again. “You see, the students in the study group listen to taped music while reclining in a soothing environment.
Beneath the sound of the music, so faint they cannot consciously hear them, are recorded messages, telling them how to change their negative attitudes about their ability to perform and how to study using methods that work.”

“And that works?” Bess wondered.

“So far we've had very exciting positive results. We've run different study groups every semester for the past two years with remarkable success,” Edberg answered.

“Is the school running the project?” Nancy asked, looking up from the notes she'd been jotting down.

The professor took the pipe from his mouth and tapped it on his desk. “Not exactly. The school is very pleased to have me working on this, but funds are tight. I've had to find an outside backer.”

“Where does the money come from, if you don't mind my asking?” Nancy asked.

“Of course not.” The professor waved away her concern. “It's a matter of public record. As you might suppose, there's a lot of money to be made from selling subliminal tapes, and there are a number of companies around the country doing just that. There are tapes to help people stop smoking, to make them better parents, to teach them geography or learn languages—you name it.”

Nancy nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“The potential is really unlimited,” the professor went on. “Recently even the federal government has become interested. There are several agencies that would like to use taped study in training programs.” He held up a hand. “The government, however, wants scientific proof before it invests in such an approach to teaching. The first company that can offer that proof stands to make a great deal of money on government contracts.”

“And I'll bet your funding comes from one of those companies,” Bess said brightly.

Edberg smiled at Bess. “Smart girl! What did you say your name is?”

When Bess told him, he said, “Well, Bess, I hope you sign up for one of my classes next semester. And you, too—”

“Nancy. Nancy Drew.”

“Nancy. It's a pleasure talking to bright, interested students. Actually my research is funded by one of the leaders in the ‘human potential movement,' a company based right here in Emersonville. It's called Positive Tapes.”

Nancy quickly wrote down the name. “This is going to make a great story,” she fibbed. “Do you think we could visit Positive Tapes to get their viewpoint?”

Professor Edberg was only too happy to help. While the girls sat with him, he called the president of Positive Tapes, a man named Larry Boyd, and made an appointment for Nancy and Bess to
interview him in an hour. Then he gave them directions to the company's office in downtown Emersonville.

“I must tell you this interview has been a most enjoyable distraction from this horrible murder business,” he told them, glancing at his watch. “Unfortunately, I have another class to teach, so we'll have to cut our conversation short.”

“We understand, Professor,” Nancy assured him. “You've been very helpful. Thank you.” She and Bess rose to leave. They were already at the door when Nancy was struck by a sudden thought.

“Just one thing, Professor,” she said, pausing. “I know we left the subject of the Wayne Perkins murder way behind, but where were
you
at the time of the killing?”

His expression darkened suddenly. “I beg your pardon? Are you suggesting
I
had something to do with the murder?” he demanded sharply.

Nancy realized she had gone too far. “Oh, no, of course not,” she said instantly. To her relief his flash of anger faded.

“The police said Wayne was killed at around seven last night, yes? I live quite close to campus—I must have been home for well over an hour by then. You'd have to ask my wife. She keeps track of these things for me. You know us professors, always lost in the clouds. Now, I really must go.”

Professor Edberg stood, pulled on his coat, and
picked up his briefcase. He escorted the girls out and closed the office door. Bess eyed the professor's coat.

“Aren't all the psych classes in this building?” she asked.

“I'm team-teaching a ‘Literature and Psychology' class with Dr. Yannopoulos from the English department,” Professor Edberg explained. “You should take it sometime. 'Bye now.” With that, he dashed off toward the stairs.

“You were laying it on a bit thick there, Marvin,” Nancy said when he was gone. “ ‘Oh Professor, that's so fascinating,' ” she mimicked, then giggled.

“He ate it up,” Bess added and grinned.

“What did you think of him?” Nancy asked as the two girls headed down the stairs.

Bess twisted a strand of blond hair absentmindedly around a finger. “He's cute, kind of like a teddy bear,” she decided.

A blast of frigid air hit them as they stepped outside. Ahead of them they could see Professor Edberg, hunched against the cold as he headed for a building that was across a small lawn.

Nancy paused as she spotted an athletic figure running toward the professor from across the yard. At first she thought it was just a student out jogging. Then the runner let out a shout, and Edberg turned toward him, startled.

“Oh, no!” Nancy shouted, as she recognized the figure. “It's Parker!”

Nancy and Bess hurried down the steps of the
psych building and ran toward Parker, but Parker was faster. He vaulted effortlessly over a hedge that stood between him and Edberg. Nancy watched in horror as Parker grabbed the professor by the lapels of his overcoat. The distraught young man slammed Professor Edberg up against the trunk of a great oak tree.

“Edberg!” he snarled, his face just inches from the professor's. “My lawyer told me about the pack of lies you told the police. You're going to pay for that!”

P
ARKER
'
S GONE CRAZY!”
Bess exclaimed. “We've got to stop him before he hurts Professor Edberg!” She continued toward Parker and the professor, but Nancy grabbed her arm.

“No! Look—here comes Ned!”

Sure enough, Ned and several other fraternity brothers came running after Parker. They caught up to him and pulled him away from Dr. Edberg.

“Parker, come on now, take it easy! You're only making things worse this way!” Nancy heard Ned say.

“Shouldn't we still go to him?” Bess asked. “He looks really upset!”

The girls were several yards away, and Nancy wanted to keep it that way. “The guys will calm
him down. I don't want Edberg to connect us with Parker.”

The two girls hung back by another tree, watching and listening. Parker strained against his friends, trying to get at Edberg.

“You don't understand!” Parker raved. “He's trying to make me look guilty! He told the police that I had a grudge against Wayne and that he thought I was dangerous!”

“And you're proving it all now, aren't you!” Edberg shouted, pointing a finger at Parker.

Just then a campus patrol car pulled up. Captain Backman emerged and ambled over to Edberg and the boys. “Is there a problem here?” he asked.

“This young hothead just assaulted me!” Edberg said, pointing at Parker.

“Why did you do that, son?” Backman spoke soothingly, but there was an underlying command in his voice.

Suddenly Parker's shoulders slumped, and he looked sheepish. “I—I don't know,” he muttered. “This murder charge is driving me crazy. My lawyer told me some stuff, and I guess I started blaming my troubles on Professor Edberg.”

Edberg had regained his composure and now looked at Parker with a sympathetic expression. “That's a common psychological mechanism called transference, Parker. You need someone to blame, and I'm an easy target.”

“Do you really believe I killed Wayne?” Parker looked at Edberg imploringly.

“I was grief stricken and angry when I spoke to the police,” Edberg admitted. “Perhaps I should have measured my words more carefully.”

Backman spoke up. “You know, son, if the professor here presses assault charges, your bail will be revoked. You could go to jail until your trial, which might be weeks or even months away.”

Edberg assured them that he wouldn't press charges. “Parker has enough troubles without my contributing to them. I'll let it go this time.”

Parker thanked him and apologized for his behavior. Then his friends led him away. A moment later Professor Edberg continued along the path toward a building opposite the psychology building.

Nancy exchanged a look with Bess. “Phew! That was intense—”

“Ah, Miss Drew,” a deep voice called.

Looking over, Nancy saw that Captain Backman was approaching them.

“A student named Janis Seymour called the Campus Safety office about you,” Captain Backman went on. “She said you were asking a lot of questions.”

Nancy started to respond, but Backman held up his hand. “I don't mind your doing a little investigating. In fact, your talents might prove helpful on this case. But I think Lieutenant Easterling would disagree. He'll come down hard
if he thinks you're meddling in his case. Tread lightly, Nancy, and make certain you don't get into trouble yourselves. Is that clear?”

“Very clear,” Nancy assured him. She gave him a questioning look. “As long as you're here, would you mind answering a couple of questions?”

Backman let out a deep, rolling laugh. “You're a born detective, young lady. Ask away!”

“We've heard that the murder weapon belonged to Parker's father.”

“That's right. The police are checking to see if it has been reported stolen, although that would be quite a coincidence.”

Nancy had to agree with that. Besides, Parker had said himself that he'd been at his parents' house just the weekend before. Changing the subject, she said, “About Dr. Edberg—”

“He has a rock-solid alibi,” Captain Backman told her. “His wife told the police he was singing in the shower at seven—right when Perkins was being killed. She was very certain of the time. Besides, what motive would he have for killing his most trusted assistant?” He shook his head and added, “I'm afraid things don't look good for your friend.”

“Nancy has broken cases that seemed a lot tighter!” Bess put in hotly. “Nobody's proved anything against Parker yet. Besides, what motive would Parker have for killing Wayne?”

“That's for the police to decide,” Backman replied. “From what I hear, Perkins was constantly
on his case. Maybe Parker just couldn't take the pressure anymore.” He paused thoughtfully. “Now I have a campus to tend to, so I'd better be off. Keep me posted about what you find out.”

Nancy and Bess assured him that they would, and he drove off.

“Hey,” Nancy said, glancing at her watch. “We have an appointment to keep at Positive Tapes. If we don't hurry, we'll be late!”

• • •

Positive Tapes was located in downtown Emersonville, just off the row of stores and restaurants that lined the main street. Nancy parked her Mustang in front of a remodeled three-story brick building that looked as if it had once been a school. Several neon yellow vans, all sporting the Positive Tapes logo, were parked in a lot next to the building.

After stopping on Main Street for a quick slice of pizza, the girls headed for the entrance of the Positive Tapes building. “Let's see what this place is all about,” Nancy said.

The interior of the building had been decorated in a completely modern style. The walls and ceiling of the lobby were painted a soft, pale rose. The carpeting and all the furnishings were charcoal colored. Plants and sculptures added to the decor. The effect was striking, Nancy had to admit.

As Nancy and Bess entered, they saw a pretty girl with frizzy hair. She was sitting at a high-tech
workstation, complete with intercom and TV monitors that showed various parts of the building and its grounds.

“Hi,” she greeted Nancy and Bess. “You must be Miss Drew and Miss Marvin. I'm Margie. Have a seat. I'll tell Dad, er, Mr. Boyd that you're here.” She pressed a button on her console. A green light flashed, and she spoke into the intercom. “They're here.”

Before the girls could settle into two of the comfortable chairs in the reception area, a beaming, youthful-looking man in his midforties bounded out to greet them. He was just under six feet tall, with thick black hair that was elaborately swept back. He was wearing a bright plaid jacket and navy pants.