Murder Misread by P.M. Carlson Page B

friends couldn’t
accept suicide without insisting on further investigation. And
further investigation would turn up your memo book.”
    “ But why me?”
    Maggie swallowed the last
bite of pizza, peeked regretfully into the empty box, and lounged
back into her chair again. “I don’t know why. Maybe nothing more
than opportunity. There was your book on the floor, just when he
needed it. And you’d be walking across the bridge alone, or so he
thought. Tell me, was it generally known that Tal was
left-handed?”
    “ I can only speak for
myself. I knew, yes, but I didn’t think about it much. You don’t
spend a lot of time watching other people write.”
    “ Yeah. It certainly
wouldn’t be at the top of your mind if you’d just shot someone and
were arranging the scene to look like suicide.”
    “ So you think Tal’s killer
waited in the bushes. Tal came along, he ran out and shot him,
stuck the gun into his hand, and ran off again. And he dropped my
book to make it look as though I’d tried to stage it all. But why
not keep the gun and hide it in my stuff somewhere?”
    “ Maybe there wasn’t time
to hide it. Maybe he had to establish an alibi. So it was easier to
leave it, make it look as though you’d staged a suicide. Now, you
see, we’ve learned a lot about this killer.”
    “ Well, we know he picked
up my book somewhere.”
    “ Not any old somewhere.
Probably here, because he knew about Tal’s lunch. Knew Tal would be
on the gorge trail on the way to Plato’s. Thought you’d be using
the trail too, but alone. So you know this person,
Charlie.”
    “ Me? But… well, yes,
you’re right.” Charlie took off his glasses and rubbed his nose.
“Somebody I know killed Tal. God, I don’t believe it!”
    “ Killed Tal. And tried to
frame you with something you dropped right around here this
morning. So, next question: Who was around this morning who might
want to kill Tal?”
    “ God.” Charlie put on his
glasses again and leaned back in his chair. “I was going to try to
think about that. But then Hines started asking about the memo book
and, I don’t know, I started feeling defensive.”
    “ I know what you mean,”
said Maggie. “It’s happened to me, even worse than this time. Of
course I was already upset because someone had died, and the cops
came in like big computers, processing what I told them as though
it might not be true, checking my actions as though I might have
done it. I mean, that’s their job, they don’t have any choice, but
it’s still scary as hell.”
    “ Yeah.” Charlie found her
words comforting. It was their job, after all. They had to check
everyone. But he’d felt so damn defensive. He noticed he was
holding his Donald Duck pen. He replaced it in the holder and said,
“But who the hell… well, I guess if a person is willing to kill
someone they won’t hesitate to frame someone else.”
    “ Right. It’s still Tal at
the center of this. Can you tell me anything about his work? He was
retired, right? That’s what emeritus means.”
    “ Yes, officially. Here, a
professor emeritus doesn’t have to do anything if he doesn’t want
to. But if he does want to stay around, he can have office space,
hold seminars, and so forth. Most of them wind down slowly, do a
little research, come in to catch up on the news a couple of times
a week. Tal was much more involved than that. In every day, doing
research, even teaching a seminar once a year. Loved students, and
they loved him.”
    “ So his retirement was on
paper only.”
    “ Right. Of course his
chair was awarded again, to Kenton, the personality development
man. And Tal didn’t have to serve on university committees
anymore.”
    “ He probably didn’t miss
those.”
    “ You said it!”
    “ Who were his friends in
the department? Who did he talk to?”
    “ God, everybody! Well, you
met him. He made the rounds of everyone in the department who was
on campus, just about every day. From Reinalter down to