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in the engineering department, both of whom had dismissed her teaching as being populist. Over the past six years her students had awarded her the highest marks the Division of Engineering Science had ever recorded.
    Dedie was so intent on Hammermill’s attempt to out-walk her, that she didn’t pay much attention to the view of the harbor to their right. The golden September day had brought out a fleet of boats ranging from day sailors to schooners, white butterflies on the brilliant blue harbor.
    At the outskirts of town, a road led off to their left. Hammermill sucked in his gut. Dedie assumed to catch his breath. “We take a left here on Greenleaf,” he stated.
    â€œYes, I know, Hammermill.” Dedie turned and looked back. The others were lagging behind a full two blocks. “Let’s wait for them.” Despite her feelings for Hammermill, she didn’t want him to have a heart attack on her account.
    â€œThey know the way.” Hammermill held up a hand to an SUV that was heading toward West Chop, and when the vehicle stopped, strode across in front of it. The driver beckoned to Dedie as well. She waved thanks and hurried across, embarrassed and annoyed that Hammermill had halted traffic, namely a lone car, for his own convenience.
    When they reached the other side of the street she said, “I was thinking we should present a united front to Dr. Wilson, the college president.”
    Hammermill snorted. But he stopped, sighed as though it was Dedie who needed the rest stop, folded his massive arms across his chest, crossed one thick ankle over the other, and leaned on a nearby stone wall.
    The three laggards eventually caught up.
    The slight man with a pencil-thin white mustache who was in the lead said, with a touch of sarcasm, “Thank you for waiting.” He was Professor Phillip Bigelow, chair of IGCOC and a tenured professor of American military history. “You two taking a power walk?”
    â€œSomething like that,” said Dedie.
    The full committee hiked the remaining block to the college at a more sensible pace.
    Thackery was waiting for them on the porch of Catbriar Hall. “Nice to see you again, Professor Bigelow.” They shook hands, and Thackery nodded to the other committee members. He wore a tweed jacket with leather elbow patches over a black turtleneck, collegiate looking, but too warm for the summery weather. “Sorry it’s under such unfortunate circumstances.”
    â€œYou remember the other members of the committee, of course,” said Professor Bigelow. “Dedie Wieler is with the engineering department, Dr. Hammermill Jones is professor of business administration, Dr. Noah Sutterfield is associate professor with the department of African-American studies, and Dr. Cosimo Perrini is professor of romance languages.”
    Dedie stepped forward and stuck out her hand. “I’m Dr. Wieler, Dr. Wilson. “Assistant professor of engineering. We met last month at the August IGCOC meeting.” She’d almost put the B in front of the acronym.
    *   *   *
    Thackery said, “Shall we go into Catbriar Hall? A light lunch is laid out. Sandwich makings and fruit.”
    â€œWe don’t have a great deal of time,” said Professor Bigelow, checking his watch. He stepped up onto the wide porch and the others joined him. “Why don’t you give us a quick report on the unfortunate circumstances of Professor Bliss’s demise before we go inside.”
    â€œThere’s not a great deal to say,” said Thackery. “Professor Bliss had been dead for some time.”
    â€œMy understanding is that his death was dated to around the time of our last meeting,” said Professor Bigelow. “Mid-August.”
    â€œCorrect,” said Thackery. “His body was found in the cellar under the new part of this building.”
    â€œI assume the police are working on the case?”
    Thackery