The Lady Sleuths MEGAPACK TM(260)
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By the time I got into my rusted old Volvo and headed north, it was after 10. I slipped a mix CD Katie had made for my birthday into the player and jumped forward to track 9—Ani’s “Freakshow” seemed a fitting soundtrack to the day’s events.
Several minutes north of campus, I pulled into a long driveway and wound my way through the bare woods that surrounded the house. I parked next to his truck and noticed that the living room lights were still on. Good. Despite the cold, a window was open, and I could hear soft jazz wafting towards me. I don’t know jazz, but whatever it was was mellow and warm with saxophones.
I rang the doorbell, but there was no response from within the house. I rang again. On the third ring, the music stopped, and, as I was about to press the buzzer a fourth time, the door finally opened.
Professor Farmer hadn’t changed much since I had seen him last—in December of my freshman year. His hair was a little thinner than I remembered, his beard a little grayer, but the way he slowly looked me up and down before speaking creeped me out just as much as ever.
He was holding a half-full bottle of #9, a Burlington brew, in his right hand, and he raised it to eye level and tipped it towards me in a sardonic salute.
“Maxine Callahan, as I live and breathe,” he said. “It’s been quite a while, Max. To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“You heard about Katie?”
His smile disappeared. “Yes, it was on the news. Such a tragedy. She was a sweet girl, a fine student.”
“She was at the picnic last night, wasn’t she?”
He nodded.
“Can I come in and ask you about it?”
He seemed nonplussed by the question, but then he nodded sadly and said, “Yes—yes, of course.”
He stepped aside to let me pass, but not quite far enough. As I came into the house, I had to brush against him. The momentary touch of his skin against mine made me shiver.
His house hadn’t changed much, either. He followed me into the living room and sat down on the couch. I moved to the armchair across the low coffee table from him. There was a throw rug I wasn’t sure I remembered next to the table, but otherwise the room seemed the same.
“Can I get you one?” he said, raising his bottle again.
“No,” I said quickly, adding a thank-you almost as an afterthought.
He took a drink. “This is rather awkward,” he said.
“About Katie, Professor? What time did she leave here?”
He paused a moment before replying. “She took off earlier than the others, I remember. Around 10:30, I think. Perhaps a bit before that.”
“Alone?”
“I think so, yes. Yes, I’m almost certain.”
“Did anything out of the ordinary happen? I know Katie and Dee argued before they left the dorm. Did they fight again at the picnic?”
“Not that I noticed,” he answered. “She seemed quiet last night, quieter than usual. She only talked to Brandon, as far as I can recall. I handed back the final papers at, oh, quarter past ten or so, and she left not long after that.”