1 Picking Lemons Read Online Free PDF

where were we in the hours leading up to two o’clock yesterday afternoon?”
    “And where was everyone?”
    “To be honest, I can’t say for sure. They asked us individually. But, of course, we all chatted afterwards. Jefferson was indignant on Edmund’s behalf that so few faculty had shown up for the seminar. I didn’t like to point out that the real issue wasn’t how many people turned up to Edmund’s seminar, but rather the fact someone didn’t let him live to present it.”
    “Well, do you know where the rest of the faculty were?” asked Betsy.
    “Well, quite a few people in 40 and 42 Knollwood have sabbatical this semester, so they were understandably absent as they are visiting other colleges. But the majority of the faculty didn’t make the seminar because they were either at home or out of town, extending the summer vacation. You know who I mean. It must have been a ghost town at 41 and 43 Knollwood.”
    Betsy just murmured. She was always amazed by the bitchiness in an academic department.
    “For those of us who were around, from best I can tell,” continued C.J., “Edmund went to the faculty lounge for coffee at eleven, as per usual. Both Jefferson and Stephen saw him there. Why Stephen was at faculty coffee is anyone’s guess. Sucking up now is not going to help. The tenure decision was final. Oh, Peter Johansson, he was there too. Anyway, Stephen says he left about eleven-thirty and went back to his office and was there doing research and job hunting until he caught sight of the clock and ran to seminar. Jefferson and Edmund left the lounge together at eleven-forty-five, and Peter was still there when they left. Peter must have left right after though, as he was teaching a graduate seminar from noon until one-fifty. Edmund went to his office and told Jefferson he planned to spend the afternoon there until the seminar. Jefferson says he went back to his office, changed and went on his usual two hour run, but you can bet a silver dollar he detoured via Mary Beth’s desk on the way.”
    Betsy nodded. “Well, that seems to fit in with what we know, anyhow. You said Stephen came in late, and Jefferson came in right on time, clearly straight from a workout.”
    “Right,” said C.J. “Those two seem to check out. Charles wasn’t in his office when the police did a door check to make sure no one else had been killed, so I guess he spent the afternoon at home. Walter was teaching from ten-thirty until eleven-fifty and then had a lunch meeting at that pho place...”
    Betsy interrupted . “Walter had lunch at a pho place? Huh. I didn’t think he was a noodle soup kind of guy.”
    “He’s not. He was lunching with the Chair of the Business School, who was just back from Vietnam and very keen to relive the culinary experience. Walter suffered through it from noon until one. I can only guess he really wants something from the Chair of the Business School. Walter was then in his office until the seminar. I, of course, met you for c offee here at eleven and then sat outside on Knollwood collecting parking meter data until the seminar started.”
    Betsy looked troubled. “No one seems to have a really solid alibi for the time of the murder. Stephen was alone in his office, as was Walter. I think you are right about Charles. He probably went home for lunch and didn’t come back. Jefferson was out running. Even you, you were sitting outside with parking meters. I bet no one saw you the whole time. If people were teaching or out of town or at home with their family, that’s okay. But otherwise...” Betsy petered out.
    “What can they expect? That is what academics do all day. Sit by themselves and think. Or run by themselves and think, in the case of Jefferson.”
    Betsy paused to think for a moment, though she was once again knitting at a blinding pace. Today was a bright red and blue sweater with a sail-boat on the front for a seven-year-old grandson. “They say the most common killer is the