Angel Food and Devil Dogs Read Online Free PDF Page B

of thing, and it's even worse than that, because she's my friend. I've known her since grad school. I won't tell her anything else except that you might want to talk to her. How would that be?"
    Well, that was true. I did want to talk to her. In fact, a little voice in my brain suggested I ask her on a date, if she were so inclined.
    Bouchet looked at his watch. "Time to face the lions."

Chapter 3
    As Bouchet and I walked out of his office toward the open door of the large conference room, we were joined by Miranda Juarez, who handed me a piece of paper, "I have made a list of the people you are about to meet. It includes their titles, contact information and job responsibilities on campus," she explained.
    "I asked Bart Edgar to make up that list for Ms. Gale," said Bouchet to Miranda pointedly.
    Miranda gave him an Oh, please look . To me she said, "I am sure you will need other information. Do not hesitate to ask." A model of efficiency. The kind of assistant everyone needs to get all their work done for the good of humanity with time left over to achieve their dreams.
    The conference room contained an oval table big enough to seat twenty. One end was near the door we'd come in. The room was freezing. Six people were already seated. Some still had their coats on.
    The left wall was floor to ceiling windows with a remarkable view of the half-round drive and more of the campus beyond. I could see the balcony where Carl Rasmus plunged to his death from here, too. Was it just my fertile imagination or were the people around the table avoiding that view. Bouchet took the nearest chair and indicated that I should sit next to him. Miranda Juarez sat to Bouchet's right.
    "Miranda," said Bouchet, "why is it so cold in here? Please, turn up the heat." Miranda got up silently and fiddled with the thermostat. Bouchet looked at his watch. I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost 2:15 PM. Connie Robinson came in balancing a tray of soft drinks in bottles and cans. She put the tray on a little table at the far end of the room.
    "Ah, thank you Connie." Bouchet raised his voice and said expansively, "Here are the beverages you all enjoy." He sounded condescendingly Lord of the Manor . He was back to the Mr. President persona. Was he trying to hook these folks with free sodas?
    He turned a little and watched Connie come in again with a plate of cookies, which she put on the table in front of us. They were Pepperidge Farm! Wow, top dollar. Hey, I'm a ho for good cookies. I was hooked. I scooped up a Bordeaux and a dark chocolate Milano.
    The two women and four men already seated got up and went to the back table to get their soft drinks. Bouchet, Miranda, and I stayed in our places. There was quite an array of drinks but just one per person. There was a bit of soft-drink gridlock, because the space near the back table wasn't very roomy. After each of the folks had finally snagged their pleasure, remaining on the table were, a can of diet cola, and bottles each of iced tea, Cafalatte, Lifeline Organic Juice, and spring water. Bouchet turned to me and asked if I wanted anything. Of the things left on the table, I chose the water. But when Bouchet called my order to Connie, she brought me a water from the reception area. I guessed the water on the back table was for someone else.
    "Still a little early," said Bouchet. "Whom are we waiting for?"
    Miranda Juarez, ever the efficient assistant said, "Dr. Georgia Smith and Prof. Daniel Cohen."
    "And Kathryn, I believe," said a precise-voiced, older woman sitting to my left. She looked sharply at me. I'd seen her many times before in the Mews. She had long gray hair pinned up in a coil at the back of her neck and skin tanned from years of outdoor exposure.
    "Kathryn did make it back in time, but she had to rush to Harrisburg, so she won't be attending," said the President. Someone exhaled. I couldn't tell whom.
    A man with flaming red hair, sat just beyond the imposing woman on the left