A Spartan Murder Page 2

  Inspector Burrows slipped my carpet bag under what I assumed was the receptionist’s desk then led me to one of the offices. I was tempted to ask him why he was showing me the crime scene at all. In fact, he was almost treating me like some kind of consultant or visiting inspector, not a suspect at all. But I was afraid that if I asked, he’d stop.

  The office was small, but then I expected most of the offices were. The walls were painted white and filled with bookshelves, but the shelves were not full of books. In fact, there wasn’t much on them beyond three stacks of test books and one shelf of what appeared to be history and classical poetry. The same was true of the desk: empty except for a pen and inkstand, a leather desk blotter with a marbled paper inset, a couple copies of Greek ornaments, and a few scattered bits of paper. There was none of the clutter I expected from professors’ desks.

  “Was this his office?”

  “It was.”

  “He was very neat, then. Or he took the idea of Spartan a bit far.”

  Inspector Burrows smiled. “He’d been working in the field recently. In Greece. Archeological sites.” He nodded to the desk. “That’s the weapon.”

  I probably would have figured that out without his help. There was only one thing it could have been. A bust of a man wearing the sort of helmet I always thought of as Greek, which wrapped around the sides of his face so he looked like he was wearing blinders. The plume that arched over the top of the helmet was streaked with blood. I started to study the rest of the desk.

  “They tell me it’s a replica of a bust of King Leonidas. Armstrong said that, not Graham, so I’m assuming it’s true. You’ll understand that in a moment.”

  I tried to distract myself from the blood. “I think Leonidas was Spartan, so that makes sense. Were there any prints?”

  “Another bit of luck for our killer. Apparently people liked to touch the statue. I'm told it sat on the end of his desk, and people were always moving it to get at things or put things down. They tell me there's no way to sort out which was the last layer of prints.”

  “So the killer picked it up and hit him with it?”

  Inspector Burrows nodded. “In the back of the head, slightly to the right. Professor Headly must have turned his back on the killer, which suggests he knew him and further supports the idea that it was someone from the college. They’re all right-handed, and I believe you are too?”

  That distracted me. “You’re really serious about me being a suspect, aren’t you?”

  “Come meet your fellow suspects.”

  Chapter 2

  Inspector Burrows led me into one of the lecture rooms. There were five men sitting at the desks in the first two rows, looking very out of place. “I assume you all know each other. Miss Cassandra Pengear, allow me to present your fellow suspects.”

  The men all turned to look at us with varying degrees of chagrin at being called suspects. I had the impression Inspector Burrows had done it on purpose to see their responses. I also noticed he did not explain my presence beyond implying that I was also a suspect. Inspector Burrows started with the man on the far left, in his late-fifties, I would have guessed, graying hair, with a well-cut suit and a yellow silk tie under his robes. “Professor Norman Armstrong.” Professor Armstrong eyed Inspector Burrows as if he were still unsure how to respond to being a suspect. Belatedly, he nodded in my direction.

  “And his teaching assistant, Mr. Frederick Kendall.” The young man seated behind Professor Armstrong was wearing a more expensive suit than his supervisor. He had been glaring at Inspector Burrows ever since we’d entered, but he stopped long enough to give me a practiced bow from his seat.

  The man sitting next to Professor Armstrong jumped to his feet and came at me with his hand held out before Inspector Burrows could introduce him. “Professor Brandon Graham.” He was of average height but had the broadest shoulders of the group, and the overall look of someone more athletic than academic. When I didn’t move to take his hand, he grasped my hand in his right and covered it with his left. “Very pleased to meet you, Miss Pengear. I look forward to becoming better acquainted.”

  It all felt a bit too much like an attempt to take control of the meeting from Inspector Burrows. I inclined my head.

  When he saw he would get no other reaction from me, Professor Graham returned to his seat.

  “Mr. Frank Redmond.” Inspector Burrows indicated the young man seated behind Professor Graham. “Professor Graham’s student assistant.”

  The young man seemed unsure whether he should smile or remain serious. He made a small bow in my direction and seemed pleased when Inspector Burrows moved on to the final man. “Professor Silas Brookwald.” He was mid-forties, brown hair, dull brown suit. He looked like he was trying to sink into the background.

  Inspector Burrows looked at the empty chair behind Professor Brookwald then around the room as if he were expecting to see someone else. “I thought everyone was going to be meeting with me.”

  Professor Brookwald spoke first. “I had a tutorial and asked Mr. Langley to meet with the students in my place. They needed to get their assignments for their papers. I hope that was all right.”

  Inspector Burrows nodded. “I see. And Miss Fenchurch?”

  Professor Graham answered. “Someone needs to direct traffic into the department.”

  “Very well. I will need addresses.”

  I glanced around the room. One other important person seemed to be missing.

  Inspector Burrows seemed to sense the direction of my thoughts. “Professor Headly did not have an assistant.”

  “A great savings for the department,” Professor Armstrong said at once. “I have tried to do without myself, but I haven’t his research abilities. Without Kendall here, I’d never be able to find a thing in the library.”

  Professor Graham turned in his seat. “Now, Armstrong, we all know you contribute more than most to the financial state of the department.”

  Professor Armstrong flushed. Inspector Burrows ignored both of their comments and returned to his train of thought.

  “Returning to the subject of addresses.”

  “I would think the registrar would have them,” Professor Graham said. “And Brookwald has Langley's.” He smirked a bit.

  “Mr. Langley rents my spare room,” Professor Brookwald explained. “It’s convenient since I do most of my grading and article writing at home where it’s quiet.”

  Inspector Burrows ignored the face Professor Graham made. “Then I won’t have any trouble getting in touch with them. Now, I need to know a few things about Professor Headly for the report. To begin with, who has been taking care of his dog?”

  That distracted them all from Professor Brookwald’s living arrangements. Professor Graham was the one who answered. “A dog? Old Headly?”

  “I take it he didn’t own one? Then why would he have had dog biscuits in his coat pocket?”

  Everyone stared at him.

  “No one has any ideas? Were there any dogs along his route to the college perhaps? Would he have had to bribe some animal he saw on a regular basis?”

  “He wouldn’t have bribed a dog, he’d have kicked it,” Professor Graham answered.

  “I see. Then how would you explain the dog biscuits that we found in his pockets?”

  No one seemed to be able to answer.

  Inspector Burrows didn’t look put out by the silence. He went on to his next question. “When was the last time he had a class?”

  “He had a tutorial before lunch,” Mr. Kendall offered. “Prior to that, he was meeting with the head of the college to discuss some lecturers they were planning on bringing in.”

  “Only Professor Headly and not the rest of you?”

  Professor Armstrong answered. “Two of the lecturers in question were planning on discussing the Trojan War. As Sparta was involved, he was the most qualified.”

  “I see. And then?”

  Mr. Kendall continued, and I began to wonder whose assistant he actu
ally was. He seemed to have an excellent grasp of Professor Headly’s schedule. Unless he kept track of all the schedules in the department, for some reason. “I believe he met with some students over lunch to discuss their papers.”

  Professor Brookwald glanced at his pocket watch.

  “Am I keeping you, professor?” Inspector Burrows spoke casually, but he was watching for a reaction again.

  “I am sorry. It wasn’t my intention to be rude.”

  “But you do have someplace to be?”

  “I do have a lecture in about three minutes.”

  “One which Mr. Langley cannot take?”

  “He is certainly capable, but I would rather not ask him to do it if I can avoid it. They will be having an exam soon, and I’m afraid some of the students will blame the assistant if their grades are not what they wish they were.”

  Inspector Burrows smiled. “I quite understand. We’re almost finished here. You will be available for more questions, of course.”

  “Naturally. Thank you for understanding.” Professor Brookwald gathered up his books and hurried out the door.

  Inspector Burrows turned back to the assembled men. “Now, what was Professor Headly’s next appointment?”

  Mr. Kendall spoke up again. “He had a lecture on the social structure of Sparta.”

  Professor Graham leaned over to Professor Armstrong and stage whispered, “Should have been old Brookwald’s area of study, eh? The agoge system and all.”

  “Really, Graham, there is very little evidence that the agoge system ever included...” He seemed to remember they weren’t alone and glanced in my direction. “Really, Graham, ladies present.”

  “Not like she knows about it.”

  But you don’t type as many academic papers as I do without learning something. “The agoge system, a system by which young Spartan men were tutored in the arts necessary to become a good citizen of the city.”

  “Quite. Quite.” Professor Armstrong at least had the good grace to blush.

  Inspector Burrows put away his notebook. “That seems to cover it then. Unless you feel the inner workings of the ancient world had a bearing on this case, I would like to retrace his steps. Beginning with his first appointment. That would be the head of the college.”

  Professor Armstrong got to his feet. “I’ll show you to his office.”

  As we filed out of the room, I watched Professor Graham, but he did nothing more suspicious than walk down the hallway followed by Mr. Redmond. I followed Professor Armstrong and Inspector Burrows.

  Inspector Burrows leaned in as I caught up to him. “I take it you have decided on our first real suspect.”

  “Can you arrest him now?”

  “Afraid not. Boorishness is not an arrestable offense. I take it there’s a bit more to his comments than your definition suggested?”

  “It’s just a common sort of—I don’t even know what to call it really. Not a theory, as Professor Armstrong is right and there is very little evidence. Idea, I suppose, that the relationships were very...close?”

  “I see.” He turned towards Professor Armstrong, and it took me a moment to realize the professor was giving us a lecture and a tour at the same time. Not that his droning voice made it easy to make anything out.

  “Beyond that, we have one of the finest tinkering programs in the city. In fact, three of our recent students have been hired by top tinkering firms after their end of term projects proved to be very similar to new technology just announced by Graham Industries.”

  He waited until Inspector Burrows and I made suitably impressed sounds then went back to his monologue. Inspector Burrows leaned in to whisper:

  “It is something to be proud of. Graham Industries has been coming up with some interesting ideas lately. Supposedly the best it’s done since old Graham died.”

  “It wasn’t murder, was it?”

  “Is everything murder with you? No, it was a heart attack.”

  I bumped into his arm as I tried not to laugh. “Murder would have been more interesting.” Professor Armstrong ignored us. He was probably used to unruly students.

  We behaved ourselves until we reached the main staircase. Inspector Burrows looked at the stairs leading down to the main floor and the exit. Clearly he didn’t want me to accompany him. I couldn’t think of an excuse for my presence there, so I turned to the staircase as if it had been my destination all along. I waited until he and Professor Armstrong had started up the stairs to the administrative offices, then returned to the Classics floor.

  Inspector Burrows had made a point of introducing me to my fellow suspects, so I reasoned he must want me to know who was involved. There were two that I hadn't met. That seemed to be a place to start. If Professor Brookwald's assistant was around, he was most likely in the offices. Since I was already near the office corridor, it seemed like a good place to start.

  ~*~*~

  From the way of the other professors had spoken of him, I’d expected Professor Brookwald’s assistant to be young. They did call him a student assistant after all, but the man I found sitting at Professor Brookwald’s desk looked to be about forty, or roughly the same age as Professor Brookwald. “Mr. Langley?”

  He looked up from his papers and stood when he saw me. “That’s right. Were you looking for someone? Professor Brookwald perhaps?”

  “You, actually. I’m Cassandra Pengear. Inspector Burrows called me down as a suspect in Professor Headly’s murder.”

  “Oh my, I’m sorry you got dragged into it.” He gestured for me to take a seat.

  I chose the chair that was hidden from the door but gave me a good view of the hallway. “I highly doubt it was your fault.”

  He laughed a little as he sat back down. “No, nothing to do with me, but still. Why did he call you, if I might ask.”

  “Professor Headly telephoned my building shortly before he died.” It seemed to be a good excuse to be questioning him, so I went on. “That was why I wanted to see you. I thought you might have some idea why he called. I’ve found the assistants tend to know more about what goes on in an office than anyone. And as he didn’t seem to have had one of his own...”

  “Pengear, you said. I think I’ve heard the name, but I don’t know in what context.”

  “I’m a typist. I had just finished a paper for him on economics in Sparta.”

  “I knew he was writing the paper, but Sparta isn’t our area of study, so I had nothing to do with it. I think I did get your card from him when Silas—Professor Brookwald was looking for someone to do some typing for him while we were in the field, although normally I type up most of his papers for him.”

  “But you didn’t hear him say anything about that paper the day he was killed? Did you speak to him that day? Maybe he mentioned he thought I’d made a mistake or wanted something re-done?”

  Mr. Langley rested his chin on his palm. “I don’t think...”

  I let him be quiet as he ran through the day in question.

  While Mr. Langley was thinking, the door pushed open the rest of the way behind me, and Professor Brookwald came in, closing the door behind him. He didn’t notice me behind the door and walked straight to the desk. “Hello, Robert. I think the inspector will want to talk to you, but he didn’t seem to mind you missing the meeting. How did the papers go?” He leaned in around the desk as he spoke.

  Mr. Langley pulled back from the desk. “Silas, this is Miss Pengear. She’s here about the murder.”

  Professor Brookwald’s arm stopped for an instant in midair, then whatever he was going to do turned into a rather awkward pat on Mr. Langley's back. His hand drifted away, and he fumbled with the things on the desk. He finally picked up a pen and gestured a bit with it, but didn’t seem to have anything to write down.

  Mr. Langley tried to cover by saying, “She was summoned down by Inspector Burrows.”

  Professor Brookwald finally settled for leaning against the desk facing me. “Yes, we met a little while ago. Pleased to see you agai
n. I’m not sure we know anything else, but of course we want to help.”

  I was beginning to understand why Inspector Burrows might have wanted me down here. I pretended I didn’t notice anything unusual and changed the subject. “It’s just that Professor Headly telephoned me the night he died, and I was hoping someone knew why.”

  “He didn’t mention anything to me, although I doubt he would have normally. But the inspector can’t think you’re a serious suspect. You wouldn’t have had time to get here.”

  I decided on the whole truth. “I don’t think I am, not really. But Inspector Burrows and I are friends. I think he’s picking up on some—subtext in the department that he doesn’t want to have to officially take notice of. I think he was hoping I might unofficially notice it and tell him if there’s anything there relevant to his case.”

  “I see. And I think you do too. We’ll do whatever we can to help, but we had nothing to do with it. Robert, would you get us some tea?”

  But Mr. Langley was already getting cups from the cupboard. “How do you like your tea, Miss Pengear?”

  “Neat.”

  He nodded and brought the cups around, handing me mine first, then Professor Brookwald his.

  Since they seemed willing to talk to me—at least they weren’t throwing me out of the office yet—I sipped my tea and asked, “Did you have any reason to want him gone? Anything he might have done to make things difficult in the department for you?”

  Professor Brookwald and Mr. Langley exchanged a look. Mr. Langley shook his head just a fraction. Professor Brookwald turned back to me. “No, no professional rivalries at all. I had been to dig sites near Sparta on one or two occasions, but I never specialized in it. In fact, I purposely stayed away from it. I had planned to specialize in Egyptology, but I got the opportunity to go to Greece when I was an undergraduate, and the language proved to be easy for me to learn, so it seemed a foolish waste not to take advantage of the opportunity or the jobs that opened up to me because of it.”