Maid of Murder by Amanda Flower

Author:Amanda Flower [Flower, Amanda]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781594148644
Publisher: Gale
Published: 2010-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Four

Something nagged at me about Olivia’s death, aside from its occurrence and the general suspicions against my brother, of course. After stopping at my car where I kept a candy stash for just such an occasion, I made a stop before I left campus. I jogged to the east side of Martin, past the gymnasium and into the thick of the dorms. I stopped in front of a small modular building tucked away between the gym and the end of fraternity row: the safety and security office.

I didn’t come to this part of campus often, only when I had a dire need to bribe the real powers-that-be on campus.

The modular’s door was unlocked, and I stepped in. The reception area was empty. Lucky for once, I caught the safety and security secretary on her smoking break. I slipped around the desk and scurried down the hall to the office at the very end. After a deep breath, I knocked once and opened it. The room was absolutely freezing, but the man sitting behind the desk looked like he’d recently marched the Mojave Desert at high noon. The lights blinked, but the tired window air conditioner labored on.

“Well, hell’s bells,” he said by way of greeting. “They caught you again.”

“Really, Mutt,” I said. “I’m completely innocent.”

“Uh-huh. First things first.” He drummed his fingers on the desktop.

I slid a king-sized chocolate bar onto the metal desk that divided the tiny room. The candy bar was a little worse for wear after spending the morning in my smoldering car, but Mutt didn’t seem to mind. He chuckled softly and made a gimme sign with his hand. I rifled through my shoulder bag, pulled out another bar, and slapped it down next to its mate. Mutt gestured that I could sit.

I settled on the lone metal folding chair, grimy from decades of dust and chocolate.

“Well, lovely India, what can I do for you today? Fix a no-parking zone ticket? Speeding?”

I shifted uncomfortably on the frigid metal. “Not this time.”

“Hmm.” Mutt worried his chin, seemingly enjoying tormenting me. Then he snapped his fingers. “I know you’re here to save your brother from a murder rap.”

I jumped. But, then again, I didn’t know why Mutt’s comment surprised me. Lee Mutton, head of safety and security, had intimate knowledge of every rumor that pulsated through Martin’s campus, and none came bigger than Olivia’s murder.

Mutt unwrapped a chocolate bar and finger-combed his mustache in preparation. His navy uniform was opened to the navel, displaying the unseemly view of his signature beer belly barely restrained by a white T-shirt. Appearances couldn’t be more misleading. Mutt ran the entire campus from his little office where security monitors lining the walls flickered from scene to scene with an efficiency of an iron hand. Mutt was Jabba the Hut in navy cotton blend. And if Mutt ever found a reason to rise from his abused desk chair, look out. Rumor had it that the three-hundred-plus, six-three security lord once threw a frat boy out of a second-story window while breaking up a rave.

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