No Nest for the Wicket(18)

“This isn’t a hunk,” he said with a faint smile. “It’s a tired bureaucrat who’s had a long day of meetings. I forfeited my eligibility for hunkdom when I agreed to be on the Academic Community Enrichment Committee.”

“What does that do?”

“Plans the departmental spring picnic,” he said, wrapping the arm with the bottle around me. “And the fall picnic, and the holiday party, unless I can weasel out over the summer.”

“Cheer up,” I said as we headed for the barn. “At least there’s food involved.”

“I knew faculty life wouldn’t all be like Indiana Jones, wearing a corduroy jacket with leather elbow patches and lecturing to adoring coeds,” he said.

“Better not be.”

“But the bureaucracy gets worse every year. Besides—what was Chief Burke doing here?”

He pointed. The chief and several deputies were strolling down the walk. Leaving, thank goodness.

“I was saving that for later, when you felt more cheerful,” I said. “We had a murder.”

“I knew eXtreme croquet was a bad idea,” he said. “From your calm demeanor, I assume it’s no one we know.”

“No one anyone knows, supposedly,” I said. “Someone’s lying, though. I don’t know who, but I’m sure someone is.”

We adjourned to our bedroom stall and I filled him in while we demolished the pizza and a bottle of shiraz.

“Okay, I was wrong,” Michael said when I’d finished. “I thought I’d had a rotten day, but yours tops it.”

“Wonder if Chief Burke will let the Shiffleys work on the house tomorrow,” I said.

“I could go to town and buy more sledgehammers.”

“What if he decides we can’t work on the house until he’s solved the murder?”

“The sooner she’s identified, the better, then,” Michael said. “Has he considered publishing her photo in the newspaper?”

“I suspect that’s a last resort,” I said. “Tough on her friends and relatives, seeing her photo in the paper with a caption that says ‘Do you know this stiff?’”

“True,” he said.

“Anyway, maybe we should worry more about the possibility of a giant mall in our backyard. Join forces with Mrs. Pruitt to battle it or something.”

“You’re sure it’s not a wild rumor?” Michael asked.

“Good point,” I said. “Kevin’s doing some cyber-sleuthing. Let’s see what he’s found.”

I decided to check my e-mail rather than calling. Avoid annoying Kevin if he was still working. I strolled into the office and turned on my computer. Michael trailed behind, swirling the last of the shiraz in his glass.

“If it’s not one thing …” he said under his breath. He looked discouraged. I felt suddenly guilty about dumping bad news on him when he’d had such a tough day. Then he glanced up, smiled, and I found myself wondering if the students could be relied on to stay at Luigi’s for another hour or so, or if they’d come barging in—

The computer played the chord that told me it was ready for action, and I clicked the icon to open my mail.

“Five messages from Kevin,” I said as I scanned my e-mail. “All full of links and attachments. Yes, I’d say the mall project’s definitely more than a rumor. I’ll read it all tomorrow. Right now—Michael? What’s wrong?”

He was staring at my desk, looking at my contraband photo of the murder victim, which really wasn’t gory enough to account for the slightly ill expression on his face.

“This is the murder victim?” he asked, his voice sounding shaky.

“Yes,” I said. “You know her, don’t you?”

He nodded.

“Her name’s Lindsay Tyler,” he said. “We were … um, involved.”





Chapter Nine

“‘Involved,’” I echoed. I thought I kept my voice neutral, but Michael’s head shot up.

“Not recently,” he said. “My first year here in Caerphilly. I haven’t seen her since she left the college. Almost five years ago. Before we met.”

“Okay,” I said. I was embarrassed to realize that I did feel relieved.

“We were thrown together, being practically the only new faces on the faculty that year,” he said. “Plus the coincidence of both having done our graduate work at William and Mary, though in different departments and at different times. We hit it off at first, but it had more or less fizzled out by the time she left. In fact, long before she left, though I didn’t take any formal steps to break up for a while, because I didn’t think she needed to get dumped on top of everything else that was happening to her. The laugh was on me when I found out—ah, well …”