“At this point, everything is a possibility.” DeMarco put his hands on his knees. “I should let you get back to your lesson plans.” He stood. “Thanks for taking the time to speak with me.”
“Anytime, honestly. I’m more than happy to help.”
DeMarco paused before descending the stairs. “By the way, just for the record, where were you last Saturday night?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Standard procedure.”
“Well, let me think. I guess I was here.”
“You guess?”
“I mean I was. I was here all night.”
“Anybody else?”
“Here? Just me and my muse.”
“She have a name?”
“I call her the Bitch. But it was just the two of us all Saturday night. I was in the bedroom at my computer until, I don’t know, well after midnight. Revising a manuscript for a chapbook contest.”
“So if I have my resident computer geek dig into your computer and pull out all the time signatures on your hard drive, he’ll be able to confirm that?”
A muscle twitched in Denton’s jaw. “They can do that? I mean, the computer keeps track like that?”
“To the minute,” DeMarco said. He had no idea if it was true or not. He hoped it was. He smiled at the poet.
“No problem,” Denton finally answered. “Absolutely.”
DeMarco nodded, then headed down the stairs.
Denton remained at the top. “Could you tell me though? Do you guys have any idea where Tom has disappeared to?”
DeMarco did not look back. “Have a good day, Professor.”
Twenty-One
DeMarco stood in the center of the communal living room of apartment 312 North Hall. The girl who had answered the door, then went to 312C to alert Heather Ramsey of his presence, now stood with her back to him at the kitchen sink as she washed the same juice glass over and over again. When Heather came into the living room, the girl at the sink shut off the faucet and meticulously dried every millimeter of the glass.
“I just have a few questions is all,” DeMarco said to Heather Ramsey.
“I need to be in class in twelve minutes. It’s an eight-minute walk from here.”
“Professor Denton’s class?”
She nodded. “So I really don’t have any time right now…”
“I’ll walk with you,” DeMarco said. He let her cross ahead of him and go out the door, then he turned back to the kitchen. The other girl had already moved away from the sink. On her way to the front window, DeMarco thought. The sound of his voice brought her up short.
He said, “Could you tell me how frequently Miss Ramsey doesn’t return to her apartment at night?”
The girl was small and reed thin, her eyes huge. “Uh…” she said.
“Is it every night or just now and then?”
“I don’t really…keep track, you know?”
“Could you tell me what the university policy is concerning professors sleeping with their students?”
Her eyes widened even farther. “I guess I don’t…really know anything…about that?”
“Thanks very much,” DeMarco said.
Outside, he cut across the grass to catch up with Heather Ramsey. She took long, adamant strides and walked as if leaning into a wind. Her hands were empty, fingers opening and closing as she walked. As he came up beside her, she offered a tight smile and said, “I saw you in Campbell Hall, right? You went into Professor Huston’s office?”
DeMarco said, “And I saw you sneaking out of Professor Denton’s house this morning, right?”
She cut him a quick look, then jerked her gaze forward again. Her gait stiffened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“That’s not what your roommate said.”
She shook her head and blew out an angry breath. “I hate this place.”
“Are you the reason his wife left him? Or was it the girl before you?”
Her pale face reddened.
“Has he told you that he’s still sleeping with his wife?”
When she looked at him this time, there were tears in her eyes.
He said, “You need to talk to me, Heather.”
Her pace slowed. She cast a glance about at the other students hurrying to their classes. None was more interested in getting to class than in trying to ascertain with a glance why she was being escorted by a state trooper. In a voice barely louder than a whisper, she asked, “What does any of this have to do with Professor Huston?”
“That’s what I need to figure out. And that’s why you need to talk to me.”
“I’m going to be late for class.”
“You don’t use books in this class?” he asked. “You’re not even carrying a pencil, Heather.”
Her pace slowed even more. Finally she came to a halt. “Everybody’s watching.”
“Just smile,” he told her. “See? Big smile for everybody to see.”
She tried one out but to DeMarco it looked more like a grimace. “Good,” he told her. “So what’s that place over there? With the picnic tables under the awning?”
“Student union,” she said. “The patio.”
“Can we get a cup of coffee there?”
She blew out another breath. “Whatever.”