Ada Madison - The Square Root of Murder

“They interviewed everyone last night,” Pam said.

“Remember when we called and told you?” Casey asked me.

Pam gave her a look of approval, mixed with “but not another word.”

I remembered the call last night, and now wished I’d taken advantage of the opportunity to quiz them, instead of virtually hanging up on them.

I wasn’t prepared for the girls’ behavior-suspicious, I thought, but given my state of mind, I could have been way off. As far as I knew Pam and Liz were doing all right academically, but Casey was on the edge of a passing grade in Keith’s organic chemistry class. To everyone’s surprise, he’d offered a makeup class this summer for the benefit of students like Casey. Their last shot.

I put the girls on my mental list of suspects, but only to add to the pool so Rachel wouldn’t be alone. A few stuttering remarks weren’t damning, but certainly called for a closer look. The idea of one or all them as killers seemed ludicrous at the moment, as they stood there, angelic and vulnerable in their crop tops and brightly painted toenails.

I needed a serious sit-down with them but not now. I couldn’t afford to be late to meet Archie.

“We need to discuss the statistics seminar,” I said. “I’ll be working with each student individually to determine how to test and grade.”

I was pretty proud of myself for coming up with that on the spot.

“Individually?” Pam asked.

“I think it’s the best way since it will be almost impossible to get all twelve of you together. At least four I can think of have gone back to their homes.”

“The three of us are in Paul Revere,” Pam said. I made a note: The leader.

“Maybe we could all meet together in our dorm room,” Liz said. I made a note: The follower.

Casey nodded vigorously. I made a note: The weak link.

I shook my head. “I don’t think that would be appropriate. I’m sure Huey’s will be closed tomorrow, but the library will be open.” Huey, who ran the campus coffee shop, took every opportunity to close up and go sailing. Who could blame him? “Let’s start at eleven with Pam. It shouldn’t take more than twenty minutes to a half hour. Then Liz, then Casey. That sound okay?”

Pam, taller than her friends by a few inches, chewed her lip mercilessly while trying to maintain her position of leadership. Liz and Casey looked to Pam for guidance.

“Okay,” Pam said, followed closely by nods from her subjects.

“Good,” I said. “Now can you please let me through?”

The girls split up and stepped back onto the grass, leaving the path clear.

I pulled the dolly past them. Too bad I didn’t have a recording device to plant on one of them. I’d have given anything to be in on their next conversation.

Three boxes that used to hold computer paper held what the police left behind. They just fit in the trunk of my car, once I consolidated junk that I didn’t need to be carting around in the first place. I considered what was I going to do with all that used to be Keith’s. I had hopes for the address book-I pictured an alphabetical list, in Keith’s own handwriting, with the heading “Likely suspects in the event of my murder.” I shuddered at the way my mind worked.

At the very least the book might open the investigation to suspects other than the residents of Ben Franklin Hall, who were some of my favorite people, even the stubborn little chem majors I’d just scrambled with.

I drove off campus, past Maureen in the security booth. I waved good-bye to her as if it were any other Saturday when all that was in my trunk was the emergency first aid kit Bruce had prepared for me and a down jacket leftover from the long ago cold winter days. I finally let out my breath when I reached Henley Boulevard and merged into a steady flow of local traffic.

My Bluetooth was busy on the way to the police station. First, Ariana called to thank me for letting her use my place for her class.

“I’m afraid we ate you out of house and home,” she said. “Let me bring dinner by tonight.”

I was so wired from the day already, I hardly even remembered that there had been beaders in my home. While I was packing up and ultimately absconding with a murder victim’s property, then entertaining three possible killers, notwithstanding the adorable outfits they wore, several Henley women had been sitting at my kitchen island making earrings and bracelets.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said to Ariana. “I can pick up something.”

“I want to come. You’ve been avoiding me since all this happened.”

“That was yesterday.”

“See you around six. I have some new organics that are just what you need.”

“Okay, thanks.” There was no use arguing with Ariana once she went into her incense mode. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she came ready to smudge my home and yard. “I have a meeting at three so I should definitely be home by six.”

“Who are you meeting with?” she asked.

“Huh? Oh, sorry, gotta go.” I clicked off with great relief. I’d rather tell Ariana after the fact about a successful session at police headquarters than risk potential confusion when she gave me advice on how to determine Archie’s aura. Which she would certainly do. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know Archie’s aura even if I had the skills to detect it. I did want to know his birthday, however.

Bruce was next. I told him how nice it was to see my photo on the dresser in his home away from home.

“How was it between Gil and Rachel?” he asked.

“What do you mean? Gil was very nice about showing us around and lending us her room, until the Bat Phone rang.”

“I heard about that. Glad you could see the crew in action. We don’t just watch movies, you know.”

Not so fast. “What’s this about Gil and Rachel?” I asked

“Nothing really.”

I let out an exasperated sigh. “Bruce.” I tried to sound like a stern mother. Or dean.

“Okay. It’s just that Gil’s always had a thing about Rachel and Hal.”

This was news. “Rachel and Hal?”

“You know, whether they were an item.”

Not only news, but shocking news. “I can’t believe you never told me this.”

“Thought you knew.”

“Hal was Rachel’s freshman adviser and they’ve always been close. Well, not close close. You mean there was talk?”

“Just talk. I’m sorry I brought it up. I figured you knew but didn’t want the talk to grow. I was impressed at your integrity, but now I see you didn’t know.”

Bruce laughed; I didn’t.

“Where did you hear this talk?”

Bruce’s long breath told me he was sorry he mentioned it. Too bad. Too late. “Gil brought it up once or twice, but not lately I don’t think. Ernie told me she asked him for advice about it once. Ernie’s the nurse that’s on shift with her a lot. She asked him, should she confront her husband, that kind of thing. Then I think Sim got wind of it, too, and had a couple of talks with her.”

Who would have thought? The MAstar trailer was gossip central, as bad as the Clara Barton, Nathaniel Hawthorne, and Paul Revere dorms.

“What other Henley gossip are you keeping from me?”

“Not a thing. What’s new with you?” he asked, sounding eager to move on.

“I’m just leaving campus.”

“I’d have thought the campus was still a crime scene.”

“Nah.”

“Where are you headed?”

“I’m going home, then I have a meeting with Virgil’s partner.”

“Archie? Watch out for him. He’s single and, you might say, hot. What’s he want with you?”

“We’re going to compare notes,” I said, checking my rearview mirror for a state trooper on lie patrol.

“You’re not getting into any trouble, are you?