Voice Mail Murder Read Online Free PDF

to?”
    “Privacy,” suggested Jane Marie, sweetly.
    “An afternoon nap,” offered Pamela, equally innocent.
    “Oh, come off it!” snorted Marks. “He may be Mr. All-American Coach of the Year, but a motel room in the middle of the day suggests one thing to me—and I’m sure it suggests one thing to the two of you innocent ladies too.”
    “What?” both women asked at once.
    “The guy was having an affair,” said Marks in a loud stage whisper. Pamela appreciated his discretion as you never knew when some student might be listening around a corner to faculty speculation.
    “Even if he was,” suggested Pamela, “that doesn’t explain the murder. I’m sure a number of people manage to have affairs without getting murdered.” She wished she could retrieve this statement as soon as she said it. There had been a minor scandal several years ago when Mitchell had had a brief affair. His marriage to Velma had been derailed but was now apparently back on track.
    “Maybe so,” agreed Marks, running his hand through his thick mane of graying blond hair and seemingly oblivious to her comment, “but it might provide a motive—particularly if someone found out about said affair—someone he didn’t want to know.” A tuft of his blond hair fell over his forehead and he shook it quickly out of his face.
    “Surely not his wife,” whispered Jane Marie. “You said she’s in a wheel chair.”
    “What about the daughters?” asked Pamela. “Maybe they didn’t approve of their father cheating on their mother.”
    “Wait a minute,” said Marks, hands in traffic cop position to the two women.
    “Or maybe it was an irate student,” declared Pamela, “who got a bad grade!”
    Dr. Barnes,” said Jane Marie, arms folded. “You don’t kill a professor for a bad grade!”
    “I don’t know,” mused Marks, “Some of them get pretty angry when things don’t go their way.” At that point several students poked their heads around the corner of the secretary’s alcove.
    “We need to get Dr. Swinton’s signature,” said one, “on a drop and add form.”
    “He isn’t in his office,” said the other, glaring at Jane Marie expectantly.
    Of course, thought Pamela, students expected each faculty member to remain in their office twenty-four hours a day and be on call whenever they needed something signed or approved. She knew that Willard Swinton was one of the few professors who probably would do just that if he were allowed. Totally devoted to his students and his research, Willard was probably grabbing a quick supper. She noted her watch and seeing that it was a little after five o’clock now, she was quite certain that he would probably return to his office shortly.
    “Why don’t you wait by his office door?” she suggested to the pair. “I believe Dr. Swinton is out getting some supper, but I’m sure he’ll be returning to his office soon.” The pair looked at each other quizzically and, without a word, headed out the door.
    “They don’t seem too worried about the Coach,” said the secretary.
    “Oblivious,” agreed Pamela, following the students’ departure with her eyes.
    “Probably for the best,” agreed Marks. “Life and classes must go on. It’s late, ladies.” He turned and headed back into his inner sanctum and shut the door, leaving the two women alone in the small room.
    “So, really, Dr. Barnes,” said Jane Marie, conspiratorially, “who do you think might have killed Coach Croft?”
    “I have no idea, Jane Marie,” answered Pamela, “but, truth be told, I am interested. And you seem to have an inside track on classified information.”
    “Maybe.”
    “I’d really like to hear what you find out—if anything.”
    “I can’t promise, but I do speak to Rosemary fairly often. We see each other from time to time at those college secretaries’ luncheons. Dr. Marks bends over backwards for the athletes too, more so than many heads of some departments, Dr. Barnes,” she added