Murder 101 by Maggie Barbieri

Author:Maggie Barbieri [Barbieri, Maggie]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Mystery & Detective, Women Sleuths, Cozy
ISBN: 0312355378
Google: rLkvg2NtnswC
Amazon: B003H4I5FI
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2007-11-26T16:00:00+00:00

Fifteen

The investigation progressed for most of the day. I sat at the table, watching the Crime Scene detectives do what they do best: put stuff in little baggies. I watched seven pencils and four markers be bagged as evidence, along with my fake Rangers’ hockey puck and my framed photograph of Mark Messier, the greatest Ranger of all time, in my opinion, which I hoped I would get back. I couldn’t fantasize about being Mrs. Mark Messier if I couldn’t stare at his picture for hours on end. At two-forty, I grabbed Crawford. “Can I go to class?” I asked. “I have Shakespeare in a few minutes.”

He nodded. “I’ll walk you.”

Sister Mary ambushed Crawford on the landing outside the office floor. “This is very disruptive, Detective,” she said. She stood six feet two inches in stocking feet and probably had twenty pounds on him. She had the bearing of an army drill sergeant and the monochromatic wardrobe to match. I might have imagined it, but he looked cowed.

“We’ll be done shortly, Sister,” he said. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, so I’ll give you an update.” Crawford slunk away, with me at his side. We went up a flight of stairs to the fourth floor and down the hall to the class where I taught the Shakespeare course. The hallway was empty and the door was closed. We stood in front of the door, me clutching my briefcase like a football, and him with hands plunged deep into his jeans pockets.

“You haven’t talked to Ray, have you?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Not since yesterday.” I told him about our phone call at the beach while he was sleeping.

He looked at me intently. “Did you tell him where you were?”

“No.”

“If you talk to him again, you need to call me. Or if he shows up at the house. Any contact at all.”

I nodded to show him I understood.

“I would feel better if you spent the weekend with Max. I’ll drive you if you want to go.” He stood for a moment and thought, looking at me intently. “You’re not going to go, are you?”

I shook my head.

“You are stubborn,” he said. “I’ll be over later,” he said, and walked away before I had a chance to respond. “And I’m not sleeping in my car, so let’s figure something out,” he called back over his shoulder.

“I’ll be grading papers!” I yelled. His rubber sandals made a squeaking noise as he walked down the hall; he didn’t respond. “So, don’t expect anything exciting!” He disappeared through the door; I heard it slam shut.

Several students made their way down the hall a few moments later. I opened the door to the classroom and let the five students out of eight who had shown up—John Costigan, Mercedes Rivas, Fiona Martin, Jake Carlyle, and Deb McCarthy—into the room. I went over to the desk and put my briefcase down and decided to answer the question before it was asked. “Before you ask, no, I have not graded your papers yet.

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