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been jumped over Andrus for tenure when his book won the Pulitzer. Andrus hated him for it. There were no more tenured positions available and wouldn't be unless someone left. Simon guessed that he was a candidate for that someone.
    "Exactly what will be the context of this unpleasantness, Vera?" he asked. "Bobby Hinton's senior thesis grade," she answered.
Simon had given Andrus's pet student a C on his senior thesis, and Andrus had been griping about it ever since.
     
"I'm not going to change that kid's grade, Vera, and that's all there is to it," Simon said.
     
"You know I agree with you," she replied. "But there is a formal process for appealing grades, and it starts at the departmental level, at this meeting this morning. Be prepared." Now that he understood the issue, Simon wasn't concerned. The grade was final, and he was sure the department would back him up. He looked at his watch, then stood up.
    "I've got to go."
As he walked out the door, Professor Thayer stopped him again.
"Simon," she said.
"Yes?"
"Just watch your back," she answered.
    Simon worried about their conversation all the way down the hall to his office. The situation didn't seem to him to warrant Thayer's concern, and he wondered what he didn't know.
    By the time he got back to his office, Sergeant Gates and the legal counsel for the police department were waiting for him. Gates looked older than Simon had thought at first—his short hair seemed grayer and Simon noticed deep lines cut into his forehead. Again Simon had an urge to step back a pace to get a look at the complete man. Judy, who knew everything about everybody in town, had told him that Gates went into police work after a very successful football career. The combination of the man's size and brains must have made him formidable.
    Simon hadn't expected anyone other than Gates, and he quickly had to sweep a pile of papers and files off a chair before he could seat both his visitors. Gates introduced Simon to the young woman who was with him.
"This is Julia McGloughlan, the policeman's friend," Gates said. "She keeps us straight, legally speaking."
    McGloughlan shook Simon's hand. His first thought was that she would be attractive if she wasn't wearing a gray suit with a burgundy-and-gray tie knotted under the collar of a stark white blouse. She had auburn hair and hazel eyes, and she looked particularly bad in gray. Nonetheless, Simon automatically checked her left hand. No rings. He caught himself mentally, surprised that he would care.
"I hope you don't mind my coming along, Dr. Shaw, but I'm very interested in this case," McGloughlan said.
     
"If it is a case," interrupted Gates.
    "It's a case," she said. "A woman shot inside the city limits of Raleigh is definitely a case. The DA doesn't want to spend time and money on a case that is probably insoluble," McGloughlan continued. “He knows perfectly well that there is no statute of limitations on murder."
    "We don't know that it's murder, although it seems likely," Gates said. "If it is, the murderer is dead by now, too. Isn't the point of solving a crime to bring the perpetrator to justice?"
"Maybe," she admitted. "But I don't know, it just bothers me. It seems wrong to ignore a crime just because it happened a long time ago."
     
"It bothers me, too," Simon said. "But historians are bothered by things that happened a long time ago. It's what we do for a living."
    "That's sort of why we're here, Simon," said Gates. "We've pretty much decided to look into this, and the chief says it's okay as long as we don't spend too much time and money on it. We've got the authorization for an autopsy, but we have a favor to ask of you."
"Shoot," Simon said.
    "We need a positive identification of the body. We think she's who you say she is mostly because of circumstance. The fact that we can authenticate her jewelry is important, but what we really need is a physical description of Anne Bloodworth to give the ME so that he can positively identify