A Function of Murder (14 page)

As I walked, I became more and more agitated about the interaction I’d had—make that,
endured—with Chris and Monty. One minute I decided to flunk Elysse outright; the next
I was convinced I should give her full credit and avoid what could turn into a major
hassle. My smartphone was too hard to read in the glaring sun, or I would have stepped
to the side and logged on right there.

I wasn’t proud of an “I’ll show
you
” idea that popped into my head as I considered calling Virgil and annotating the
list of names I’d given him of faculty who voted
no
on Mayor Graves for commencement speaker. “Something just occurred to me,” I could
tell him. “I thought you should know that Christine Sizemore stormed out of the room
when we lost the vote. And, while I’m thinking of it, I heard that her brother Monty
Sizemore’s management consulting firm was hired by the mayor’s office and then suddenly
fired over a contract dispute for waste management.” Take that, Sizemores.

I chided myself for vengeful thoughts and for forming an opinion about Elysse’s post
before I looked at the primary source.

The Sizemore team had seemed happy to aggravate me, but with a little distance I could
chalk it up to their age. If
one of their students had done something similar, their response would most likely
have been different. They might even have joined in the thread and given the student
a run for her money or simply had fun with it. How did I suddenly become old at forty-four?

Rring, rring. Rring, rring.

I took a call from Bruce. I spared him my angst over the grading issue and updated
him on my itinerary.

“Watch out for the corner of Henley and Main,” he said, as I approached it. “There
was a demonstration of sorts in front of city hall most of the morning and I think
it’s still closed off.”

Too late. “I’m on foot now, walking past the site,” I told him, realizing how rare
that was for me. And if walking meant more sidewalk meetings like the one I’d just
been through, I’d stick to driving.

“Everything’s peaceful here,” Bruce said. “Except for a small riot in the western
part of town, which the police determined had nothing to do with the mayor’s death.
I think some people sit around and wait for an excuse to act up. No one was hurt this
time, anyway. We practically begged the city to call us in so we could get out of
this trailer, but they wanted us close to the base rather than stuck out in traffic.”

“And no calls from the Bat Phone?”

“A couple of people needing transportation from the hospital to rehab and back. The
nurses arm-wrestled for the job.”

We chatted until I reached the gate to campus, by which time I had things in perspective.
It wasn’t the first time a student had complained about a grade. Just the first time
thousands of people knew about it before I did.

Times, they were changing.

Stepping into Franklin Hall on a Sunday was always a bit creepy, but today I had the
irrational, eerie sense that
someone had died here. The sickening smell of the frosting from yesterday’s cake turned
my stomach and caused the unpleasant reappearance of my Coffee Filter mocha.

Get in and get out, I told myself, hurrying down the hallway to my office, my footsteps
echoing as loudly as a dormitory boom box.

I had my key ready and unlocked the door, surprised to see the room empty of either
stale cake or a corpse. I could grab my robes and briefcase and split, or I could
log on to Facebook on my computer and check out Elysse’s post. I wondered if I’d recognize
any of her followers. What if I did? I decided I wouldn’t let Elysse bully me into
panic, even in absentia; she and her post could wait until I was in the safety and
comfort of my home office. So what if another two hundred people Liked Elysse before
I got to see what it was they Liked.

I picked up my robes, in their plastic garment bag, and draped them over my arm, then
picked up my briefcase and shut the door behind me.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

I jumped at the sound, one that should have been familiar to me. I flinched at the
sudden brightness from the hallway lights being switched on. Moments later, all was
well. I’d never been happier to see Woody, driving his large barrel-on-wheels.

Being on edge, on what was technically the first day of summer vacation, was not a
good sign. I waited and greeted Woody as he and his supply train rumbled toward me.
Did he ever go home? When his wife died last year, Woody started putting in extra
hours at the college. Sometimes I thought he showed up for twice as many hours as
the college paid him for. Lucky us.

“Dr. Knowles. Didn’t expect to see you here.”

I held out my robe-laden arm to show Woody the reason for my visit. “Thanks for helping
me with Kira Gilmore this morning.”

“No problem, Doctor. Sure is a shame about that young mayor. He was very nice to me.”

“I didn’t realize you knew him.”

“Oh no, I didn’t know him, met him jes’ the one time, when he came by here yesterday
afternoon. Did you find what he left for you?”

This may have been the shortest period of relaxation on record. Did I have another
unexplained message from the mayor? Not what I needed. “I’m not sure I know what you
mean, Woody.”

“I unlocked your door for him. I didn’t think you’d mind, Dr. Knowles. Him being the
mayor and all. I hope I didn’t do something wrong.”

“Not at all. Did you say Mayor Graves left me a message?”

Woody leaned his elbows on his barrel, his head landing even with one of his mops,
giving him a strange new hairdo from my perspective. “He came by after all the speeches
were over, and the diplomas were getting handed out, and he asked me if I could let
him into your office. Said he had something he wanted to leave in there for you.”

I thought of the mayor’s quick exit from the stage, pulling Nora with him. “Was his
wife with him?”

“No, he was by himself.” Woody stood up straight and looped his thumbs around the
straps of the worn overall bib covering his chest. “There was another gentleman wandering
around here, too, though, jes’ a few minutes after the mayor came by.”

“Did you recognize the second man?”

Woody shook his head, a slow
no
. “But I think he was up on that stage, too. Big man”—Woody ran his fingers over his
hairless head and smiled—“bald like me, with some glasses, though. I don’t need any
glasses unless I’m reading something small. Not bad for someone old as I am, huh?”

I realized I had no idea how old Woody was. I hoped we
weren’t breaking any labor laws by keeping him on. “That’s wonderful, Woody. And it
certainly sounds like a busy time for you while we were out there on that stage.”
My mind worked to figure out which large bald man had been hovering around my office.
Woody would know anyone who was regular faculty or staff. It was a long way to come
for air-conditioning or a patch of shade, if all either of the men needed was a cool
spot. “Did you speak to him at all?”

“He wanted to know where the restroom is, is all, and I showed him. I didn’t let him
go in anywhere, if that’s what you’re asking, even though he had on a suit and tie
and all.”

“No, I’m sure you didn’t, Woody.”

“I wouldn’t usually do that kind of thing, Dr. Knowles, letting someone into a place
that’s locked up. But like I said, when it was the mayor, I thought it was okay.”

“Not to worry, Woody. You did the right thing.” I heard Woody’s long, relieved breath
and felt bad that I’d put him in this stressful state with my questions, but I had
a couple more. “Do you know what it was that the mayor wanted to leave for me? I didn’t
notice anything in my office just now.”

He scratched his head, then gave me another slow
no
. “Danged if I know, Dr. Knowles. He wasn’t carryin’ anything I could see. Nothing
big like that.”

Maybe his cell phone died and he wanted to make a phone call in private. Never mind
that he just happened to duck into my building. “Did he want to get into my office
in particular, or do you think any office in this building would have been okay with
him?”

“Your office, Dr. Knowles. He said ‘Dr. Knowles’s office.’”

Clear enough. “Did he come out right away?” Woody looked anxious again and I figured
I’d better stop interrogating him. “It’s okay if you didn’t notice,” I said.

“Oh, I stayed around till he come out. Even though he’s the mayor, I wasn’t gonna
let him walk out with the furniture, you know.”

Good man, Woody.
He risked a tentative smile and I gave him a broad one in return.

“So how long would you say he was in there?”

I heard a whooshing-and-thudding noise at the end of the hallway, the sound our heavy
doors made when closing. Woody waved his arm in greeting. I turned to see who was
there, but the person had already slipped out.

“Who was that?” I asked, annoyed at my jumpy responses to every little sound today.

“Don’t know, ’cause of the light coming in down there, but everybody in the building
deserves a wave, don’t you think?”

“You’re right, Woody.” I felt I was rushing the old man, and waited a beat before
continuing. “Did you say how long the mayor was in my office?”

“Not long, Dr. Knowles.”

“Not long,” I repeated, mostly to myself.

“Didn’t come out right away, either,” Woody added, scratching his head, helpful as
always.

I should have remembered that Woody was one of those nonquantitative types who shied
away from exact numbers. I swept my free arm to indicate the roughly three-hundred-foot
corridor we were standing in. “Long enough for you to mop this whole hallway?”

“No, no. Not the whole hallway. I got about to the second lecture hall, I believe,
when he waved good-bye to me and left.”

I’d had enough experience seeing Woody mop the floors of Franklin Hall. I estimated
it took him ten minutes or so to work the patch between the end of the hall and the
second lecture room. Which meant the mayor exited the building not much sooner than
we all started entering it for the departments’ graduation ceremony and party. Was
what he left related to his earlier message on my phone? Had he called to tell me
what he was going to leave in my office? Maybe that would have been the end of the
In the meantime
sentence.
In the meantime, I’m going to leave something in your office.
But what—an envelope? a book? a disk? And where—up high? down low? in the front?
in the back? I was dizzy.

“You okay, Dr. Knowles?”

Not really.
“Yes, thanks, Woody. I’m glad you were able to help the mayor out. Thanks for letting
me know.”

My head was busy with questions, none of which our poor janitor could answer. What
if Woody hadn’t been here? Did Mayor Graves have his lock-picking tools on him, just
in case, or did he know Woody’s schedule? Maybe he’d been stalking both of us. He
knew I was still on the stage, so he wasn’t aiming for a chat. At the time he was
in my office, I was watching the Henley graduates accept their degrees. Well, more
accurately, playing a word game with Fran.

What could he have left in my office that Woody wouldn’t notice? It must have been
small enough to carry in his pocket. How small could one make a bomb?

Woody seemed to have been ruminating at the same time that I was. He was ready to
share his thoughts.

“You know, I was thinking, that might have been the last thing our mayor did, Dr.
Knowles. Saying good-bye to me.”

Except for whatever motivated someone to stab him in the back with a letter opener
later that evening.