“I just have a quick question. I’m still trying to dig up information on the Sixes. They—”
“Why?” he asked, as he resumed stuffing his briefcase. “Aren’t the police handling that now?”
“I’m just wrapping up what I was doing—and of course I’ll inform the police of anything they need to know. Several days ago you mentioned that you’d organized a committee on quality of life on campus. Was Lily Mack on that committee?”
Stockton stopped his paper stuffing and looked up at her. “Why is that relevant?” he asked huffily.
“It’s just a loose end I want to tie up.”
“If you must ask, she was on it—but in name only. After the incident with the chairs, I invited her to join. She agreed, but never showed for any meetings.” He grabbed his coat and scarf. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have another meeting.”
Was he telling the truth? Phoebe wondered as he strode from the room like someone headed to a world economic summit. It would explain why Jen hadn’t mentioned Lily being on the committee. Of course, even if Lily hadn’t attended any of the meetings, she’d been invited by Stockton to join. Jen may have simply been confused about how the two of them met. Or maybe Stockton hadn’t been her love interest after all.
Phoebe made her way back along the corridor. She didn’t pass another soul, and the only sound was her footsteps on the cement floor. Where is everyone? she thought anxiously. She felt suddenly claustrophobic being all alone below ground. She turned a corner and realized she’d gone the wrong way. Just get me the hell out of here, she thought. She quickly retraced her steps, nearly at a jog. When she finally located the stairwell, she took the steps two at a time.
Once outside, standing under the library’s portico, Phoebe dug out her phone and tried Jen’s number. The girl answered in a groggy voice, as if she was still in bed.
“Did you find something out?” Jen murmured after Phoebe identified herself.
“Not yet, but I have another question. You told me yesterday that Lily met the person she fell for on a committee this fall. But are you sure about that? Could she have met him under different circumstances?”
“Not this fall,” the girl said, more coherently this time. “The committee was this past spring. That’s when she met him. But she didn’t really get the hots for him until this term—when she chose him for the fifth circle.”
So then it wasn’t Stockton. Phoebe signed off and immediately called Glenda’s office. The assistant told her Dr. Johns was in meetings the entire morning.
“Is it possible for you to get a message to her?” Phoebe nearly pleaded. “Could you tell her I need some additional information. I need to know the committee Lily Mack was on during the spring term.”
“I may be able to help you this time. I asked Dr. Johns how to access that information if I ever needed to find it again. Give me a moment, please.”
Phoebe waited, watching as students began to surface on campus, like creatures emerging from their burrows after a storm.
“Okay, I’ve found it,” the assistant said. “She was on a committee on animal testing.”
“Who else was on it?” Phoebe asked quickly.
“Six, er, seven other students.”
“But what faculty member?”
“Oh, let’s see. Okay, here we go. It was Dr. Duncan Shaw.”
29
IT FELT AS if someone had shoved Phoebe from behind full force, knocking the wind out of her.
“Um, okay,” she said. “Anyone else? I mean, any other faculty on the committee?” Maybe Duncan hadn’t been the only one.
Phoebe could sense the woman scanning the page on her computer. Hurry up! she wanted to scream.
“Just him, actually,” the assistant said. “Can I help with anything else?”
“No, uh, no,” Phoebe sputtered. “Thank you.”
She dropped the phone in her purse. Her legs felt wobbly suddenly, and she leaned against the building for support. Two people leaving the library turned and checked her out, their eyes curious.
Had Duncan really had an affair with Lily? she wondered desperately. It just didn’t fit. He seemed smart, mature, together, not the kind of guy who’d become entangled with a student and possibly jeopardize his standing at the college. And yet the truth was, she knew absolutely nothing about his personal life since his wife’s death. Phoebe hadn’t yet felt comfortable probing about that. She’d just assumed he’d dated very little since then, perhaps having a sexual fling or two. But then maybe that’s exactly what Lily had been for him.
Of course, if she were to believe Jen, Lily had made the first move. As part of the fifth circle, her initial plan had been to seduce and exploit. Had Duncan discovered her original intent?
Whatever the case, Phoebe realized, an affair would certainly explain Duncan’s behavior this morning—why he’d snapped at her when she’d raised the subject of Lily’s love life.
But there was an even more awful question to consider: Had Duncan murdered Lily? She considered what she knew of him, as if she were spreading pages of notes on a table in front of her. He had stuck by his wife during her illness; he had good friends in his department; his students adored him. But even a good man could be pushed. There was that moody side of him, too, which might point to something dark—malevolent, even.
And one detail she couldn’t ignore: he had seemed extremely interested in the murders, always pressing her for details. Was he just pumping me, she wondered, to make certain he knew as much as he could about the police investigation? Is that why he’d been so eager to check out Hutch’s notes—to make sure there was nothing implicating him? He’d also pushed her to stop the research. Was that really because he feared her getting too close to the truth?
The whole notion was crushing. She’d had sex with Duncan; she cared about him. Was he really a murderer?
No, it couldn’t be true, she told herself frantically. She caught a student looking at her and she realized she had been shaking her head back and forth.
She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. What she needed to do, she could see, was to go someplace quiet, where she could think in peace. Her office. Clasping her coat closed with her good hand, she headed for Arthur Hall. As she rounded the corner of the library, she nearly collided with Pete Tobias. God, she thought, this is the freaking last thing I need right now—another face-to-face with Lucifer himself.
“Well, Phoebe Hall,” he said. “I thought you might be avoiding me.”
Be careful, she warned herself. Talking to him was like trying to skirt around a rattlesnake on a mountain trail. And she couldn’t let him see how frazzled she felt at the moment.
“Shouldn’t you be busy writing the retraction about me?” she asked.
He looked annoyed. “It’s being posted today, actually,” he said. “Of course, I think the real story turned out to be far more interesting than what we’d been led to believe was true. That students here decided to frame you. Why do you think anyone would want to do that?”
“Maybe they were mad because I don’t grade on a curve,” Phoebe snapped. “But I’ll leave that for you to figure out, since you’re such a good reporter.”
He harrumphed. “I’ll do that, then. By the way, I’m surprised you’re not competing with me on the bigger story here.”