seat behind the desk, Winwood and Mallow sat across from her. She took the notepad offered by the security officer before extracting a pencil from her pocketbook. Managing her excitement was challenging. After reading dozens of mysteries and teaching a course on them, she was capping a first-hand sleuthing experience by being present for an arrest. Finding the lost exam had been fulfilling, but the end had not been so dramatic.
“You haven’t kept me abreast of the investigation, Mallow. Bring me up to date now,” Winwood said.
The president seemed calmer, which gave Doro pause. Perhaps, Pierce and Kitty had lied. Maybe Stanley had, too. All of them had seemed upset and anxious, while Winwood did not. As she thought back over the dozens of mysteries she’d read, Doro considered the killers. Some were cool and collected. Others were frantic. But they were all fictional characters, not real people. Her status as an armchair detective didn’t quite meet with Mallow’s position as a real-world lawman. Those facts kept her from blurting out the questions rising in her mind like bread dough in a bowl. That and knowing it wasn’t her place to question the president.
“I told you about the fingerprinting,” Mallow said.
“Did you get prints from all the suspects? Or did some refuse to give them?” Winwood asked.
Mallow leaned back in his chair. “Everyone cooperated, but prints can be lifted from hard surfaces, so it isn’t necessary to have all suspects come in.”
Winwood’s gaze widened. “What? Those prints couldn’t be used in court, because you’d have no idea whose prints they were.”
“Not true, sir,” Mallow replied. “Some surfaces are touched by only one or two people. For example, there are places in your office that you primarily handle. Isn’t that the case?”
For a long moment, Winwood sat still and silent. “Maybe, but going into a private office to collect fingerprints wouldn’t be right.”
“It’s completely legal.” Mallow maintained his schooled expression.
Again, the room echoed with silence. As it did, Doro sensed a battle of wills between the two men. Winwood’s reactions indicated uneasiness, which could relate to guilt.
Winwood appeared to regain his composure before he said, “You already told me about being in Professor Gibling’s office. He’s a likely killer, since Hemet was about to deny him tenure.”
Mallow neither confirmed nor denied going to Stanley’s office, which had not happened. “The professor voluntarily provided his fingerprints.”
Again, the president looked taken aback. “Is he the murderer? Or did the Dudley boy do it? Both have ample reason.”
“Actually, neither of them is guilty.” Mallow let the statement hang in the air long enough to have Winwood shifting in his chair.
“Then, who is? Although a number of people clashed with Hemet, you said only a few were near the library Tuesday morning.” Winwood’s voice grew tauter with each word.
“Several people were in the area. Professor Gibling, Pierce Dudley, Kitty Tenseng, Miss Banyon, and you,” Mallow replied.
“Me?” Winwood barked. “I saw Miss Banyon on my way back to my office. I explained why I needed to retrace my steps. Since she discovered the body only moments later, Hemet was already dead when we crossed paths. That eliminates me, not that I had any reason to kill a friend and colleague.”
“I’m afraid it doesn’t eliminate you, sir,” Mallow said. “You lost your watch because the chain was broken, but it looks fine now.”
While the officer did not make any accusation, his words rang with challenge. Doro focused on Winwood, who inhaled and exhaled sharply.
“Chains can be replaced,” the president said.
“There isn’t a jeweler in Michaw,” Mallow said, “and I’m not aware of you leaving town over the past few days.”
“I don’t report to you, young man, so my comings and goings aren’t your concern,” Winwood said in a rough tone that did nothing to cloak his obvious anger.
“You wanted me to run a thorough investigation, and I have.” Mallow left the statement hang heavily in the air. “May I see your watch and chain?”
For several moments, Winwood sat stock-still. Finally, he reached into his pocket, removed the items, and handed them to the officer.
As Mallow scrutinized the jewelry, Doro watched carefully. To her eyes, the chain looked pristine, but not brand-new.
“I noticed your watch and chain when I came for my first interview, because both looked expensive and had the patina of vintage gold. New links wouldn’t match so well,” Mallow said.
“Are you a jeweler, young man?” Winwood asked in a clipped tone.
“He isn’t, and you know it,” Doro, unable to remain quiet, put in. “Anyone can see the chain hasn’t been repaired. And it isn’t new. Besides, we also know Professor Corlon planned to meet someone in the library. The two of you have had a few meetings lately, sometimes with raised voices. More than a few people are saying the professor was softening his attitude about returning the school to men-only. Was that the source of your conflict with him?”
The president’s hands clutched the chair arms until his knuckles turned white. “I’m not answering your questions. You have no right to ask any. When I took this job, I heard about you being a spoiled girl, who was hired due to her daddy’s influence. Instead of finding you a job, he should’ve gotten you a husband. Then, you wouldn’t have time to poke into matters that don’t concern you.”
Although his opinion didn’t matter, Doro felt like she was on the defensive. Should she respond? If so, how? Doro was still considering her options when Mallow returned to the conversation.
“You didn’t argue with Corlon over no longer admitting women or firing female faculty members?” Mallow asked.
Winwood’s beady eyes narrowed to slits. “Why are you listening to gossip from this girl? She and her ilk want to cause trouble.” The words shot out with speed and force, while his voice shook with apparent rage.
“A few people mentioned Corlon’s change in attitude,” the younger man said, “and we also heard his niece wants to attend Michaw, which seems like a solid reason for him to stop supporting that agenda.”
Winwood’s face went beet red. “We all agreed when we came here that Michaw could become an elite academic institution. That can’t happen with women as students and faculty.”
“By all, you mean Corlon, Jerritt, Pottiger, and yourself,” Mallow said.
“Of course,” Winwood replied.
As Doro listened, she figured Mallow’s strategy was to push Winwood until the man lost control. If the security officer wanted her to chime in and continue pressuring Winwood, she would. Filleting and grilling the administrator like a fish would be her pleasure.
The officer did not let up when he continued. “And Corlon was backing off the proposed policy, so you were meeting with him again. After all, his niece was coming to visit soon, and dissuading the young woman after that would be harder. This is a pleasant town, and the campus is lovely. Most anyone would want to attend school here.”
Mallow’s observations reminded Doro that his sister had wanted to attend Michaw. How many students, like her, had not because of finances? After this case was closed, Doro planned to see about more scholarships being offered. President Adams would have continued growing the funds. Winwood had cut them.
“College is not for everyone. Some have no need of an education,” Winwood said.
“You haven’t answered my question about meeting with Corlon on Tuesday morning,” Mallow said.
“You can ask Mrs. Jones about my schedule. She keeps track of it,” the older man said.
“But she wouldn’t know about you meeting with him before regular office hours,” Mallow observed. “Did you go to the library for a discussion?”
Winwood’s lips flattened. “He could’ve scheduled a meeting with anyone.”
The words revealed the president was probably aware of a meeting. Doro once again noted Mallow’s skill at drawing facts from suspects.
“Not all of them were angry with him,” Mallow stated in a firm, fixed tone.
“How dare you continue to suggest I killed my friend? We’ve known one another since our undergraduate days. I’m the one who convinced him to come here and who put him in charge of the English department. It’s ridiculous to think I’d harm Hemet.” He turned an icy gaze on Mallow. “You’re allowing yourself to be influenced by a pretty face. She’s used her wiles to sway you, and to protect Miss Tenseng and her beau. It’s obvious they’re behind Hemet’s murder. That girl hated him because he was against her group…Young Ladies Who Vote, or some such.”
“Young Women Voters for Equality and Justice,” Doro corrected in a stony tone. Wiles? She had none. None at all.
“Of course,” he shot back, a sneer on his face. “The group, students and faculty members, would like to run this campus like you’re running Officer Mallow. But I should say, former Officer Mallow.” Winwood turned to Mallow. “You’re fired. Pack up and leave.”
Mallow lifted his chin. “You can fire me, but it won’t change the fact that you’re going to be arrested as soon as Constable Lammers arrives. I have the authority to do it myself, but he’ll be here in short order.”
The assertion filled Doro with relief. Winwood was about to get his comeuppance, and she would witness it.
“Your so-called proof is laughable,” Winwood insisted.
“In addition to everything else,” Mallow said, “You had to be the one Professor Corlon expected to meet. That had to be you, sir. Constable Lammers agrees.”
The older man’s face went beet-red. “He doesn’t know how to investigate a homicide, which has become abundantly clear. Wandering through town and glad-handing the locals is about all he’s good for. Neither of you is fit to serve as a lawman.”
“Is that so?” Wade Lammers asked as he entered the office and moved to stand by Officer Mallow’s chair. His attention riveted on Winwood.
The color in Winwood’s face deepened, but he jumped to his feet and faced the constable. “Neither of you is unbiased or competent,” Winwood said, but his tone had lost some of its bluster. “We need real lawmen to handle serious crimes. I’m calling the county sheriff for his assistance.”
“I talked to him the first day,” Mallow put in. “About fingerprinting. In fact, Constable Lammers took the card catalogue drawer to him, along with the prints I got. The sheriff’s people have the right equipment and expertise. Getting the tests done and results back took a little time, is all.”
“It did,” Lammers agreed, “but they checked the ones you gathered against those on the drawer, as you know.” He removed a sheaf of papers from inside his jacket. “The report confirms who touched the drawer.”
Doro listened with interest as Wade and Mallow worked in tandem. Giving bits of information, instead of blurting everything out, seemed wise.
“I’m not giving you my fingerprints,” Winwood put in.
“You don’t need to,” Mallow said. “We already have them.” He continued by revealing how the president’s prints had been extracted.
“Why, you…” Winwood sputtered to a stop before regrouping. “It means nothing if my prints are on the drawer. Nothing at all. Lots of us go to the library to do research.”
“But you’ve never been back by the card catalogues,” Doro pointed out, although that didn’t figure in the evidence. She wanted to make him squirm even more.
When Winwood turned on her, his face was a frozen mask. “You are not in the library every hour of every day, Miss Banyon.”
“No, but not a single person has seen you back there. I spoke with my boss and others. No one ever noticed you around the card catalogue.”
His voice sliced through hers. “Just a bunch of unrelated details that you’ve trumped up. I’ve always known you have a wild imagination, especially where crime is involved. You fancy yourself as an amateur sleuth, because you’re an avid mystery reader. Adams was a fool to let you teach a course on such drivel. Students need rigor in their academics. Consider this fair warning, Miss Banyon, you won’t be instructing in the future. Not your mystery class or any other course.”
How did he have the utter gall to bully her when he was on the verge of being put in handcuffs? Doro had always thought Winwood was overbearing, but his current audacity was stunning.
“Miss Banyon will be here long after you’re gone, Mr. Winwood,” Mallow said.
“President Winwood,” the older man corrected. “And you’ll be gone, along with her. I’ll make sure of that. And I’ll make sure any future employer knows you tried to railroad me.”
Constable Lammers concurred with Mallow when he spoke again. “You won’t have that chance, and Ev—Officer Mallow—won’t need to worry about future work because I’m sure both he and Doro will still be in Michaw when the prison doors clang shut behind you.”
“You’ve let the girl convince you, as well. Ridiculous,” Winwood snapped. “Your penny-ante clues won’t stand up in court…if it gets that far, which I doubt.”
“We have plenty of evidence,” Lammers said, in a calm, composed tone, “including your fingerprints.”
Winwood threw his hands in the air. “I am dealing with idiots. Complete idiots. I’m sure there were many, many prints on that drawer.”
“Actually, there weren’t. Sit down, and we’ll tell you the details.” Mallow turned to Doro. “Do you want to explain why?”
The opening made her smile, but she let several seconds elapse before addressing Winwood. “If you had let Officer Mallow or me finish, instead of berating us, we could have already explained why the fingerprints are so significant.” Again, Doro allowed an interlude of quiet to develop.
“Well, what’s the significance?” Winwood asked. “Or are you simply wasting more time? If so, I have important duties to perform.” Anger blazed in his eyes.
With no real reason for further delay, Doro met the man’s furious gaze. “As you may know, the janitors clean the library once a week. Once a semester, they do a thorough sprucing up. Usually, before classes start. This term, they got behind because you had many extra tasks for them. Finally, they got to the major work Monday evening.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Winwood asked. “You are still wasting my time, Miss Banyon. All of you are.”
“Then, I’ll get to the key aspect.” Doro’s tone became clipped. “The card catalogues were cleaned, dusted, and waxed Monday night. That process removed all fingerprints, smudges, and marks. So, only the prints of Professor Corlon and his killer were there.” She didn’t mention Pierce, since the boy was in the clear as far as she was concerned. The lawmen had agreed. With luck, so would the county prosecutor.
Winwood’s gaze went wide and his jaw dropped, but he made no verbal response.
“Nothing to say, Winwood?” Mallow asked.
Doro repressed a smile when the older man failed to correct the officer. Of course, he would not be president much longer. Even sooner, he would be behind bars. Where he belonged.
“I want to contact my attorney,” Winwood replied.
“Sir, it would be better for you if you tell the truth first.” Mallow spoke in well-measured tones. “We’re fairly certain you didn’t go to the library planning to kill Professor Corlon, since the catalogue drawer is a weapon of opportunity.”
“That’s true,” Lammers agreed, “and maybe his death was an accident. Maybe you swung the drawer at him out of anger, but didn’t mean to kill him.”
Doro watched as Winwood’s face contorted with an odd array of emotions. Anger, remorse, resignation. Would he explain what had happened? As moments ticked away, she became less and less optimistic about a confession.
“A murder charge would mean the electric chair,” Mallow put in. “Manslaughter would only merit prison time.”
As she listened, Doro was torn between getting the details and seeing Winwood booked on the highest charge. More long moments passed before the man finally responded.
“Hemet and I were meeting to discuss ending co-education,” the president said in a voice lacking his usual command. “He’d changed his mind, due to his niece. I couldn’t understand it. Until recently, we both agreed that a serious academic atmosphere can only be achieved on an all-male campus.” He bent forward to brace his elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands. “When I got to the library, he was fussing with mislaid books and such. I got more and more upset because he wouldn’t discuss the change. He kept talking about how smart his niece is. I had to follow him around the place. Such disrespect.”
“What made you hit him?” Mallow asked.
Winwood sat back in the chair. “Hemet went to the card catalogue, where a drawer was sticking out. He fussed over that instead of responding to me. I finally got disgusted and grabbed the drawer from him. He laughed, like ignoring me amused him. That was the final straw, and I reacted without thinking. I slammed it against his head, and he collapsed. When I saw the blood, didn’t know what to do. I tried to rouse him, but I couldn’t. Panic hit me. If only he had taken the time to listen to me. I didn’t want to kill him…” His voice trailed off.
“So, you used the tunnel to go to your office,” Mallow suggested.
“I did,” the president admitted. “Then, I remembered I was supposed to unlock the side door for Mrs. Jones. I hurried down there and went around to the back of the library. I wanted to be seen heading to my office. Coach Ayers is usually on his constitutional, so I went out and acted like I was going to College Hall.”
“Which is when you saw me,” Doro said.
He shot her a glance. “That was a surprise, but it worked for my purposes,” Winwood admitted.
Recalling the man’s accusation angered Doro, but she focused on another aspect of his tales. “As did your story about the lost watch.”
“It gave me a reason to be around that part of campus, just in case someone saw me when I first went to meet Hemet,” Winwood said.
Doro couldn’t deny that the man had been clever, but she wasn’t going to tell him so. Lashing out in anger might not be as bad as planning a murder, but a man was still dead. “You pointed the finger at others to keep suspicion from yourself,” she said. Winwood nodded but did not look her way or speak again.
“What about last night?” Mallow asked. “Why did you go to College Hall? Were you worried about me getting fingerprints from your office?”
Winwood clasped his hands together and stared down at them. “You said I’d probably be charged with manslaughter instead of murder, but extra crimes could be added.”
A quick look at Mallow revealed he didn’t like what the president had said. “Crimes like destroying evidence?” the officer asked.
A shrug moved Winwood’s narrow shoulders. “I don’t have anything more to say.”
Mallow glanced at her. “You got everything down, Miss Banyon.”
“I most certainly did,” she replied. With luck, his reason for skulking around College Hall the previous night would come out at trial. But it was a minor point.
“Good.” The officer looked from Doro to the college president. “Unless you want to share additional details, Winwood, you can call your lawyer.”
“You can do that from our telephone,” Lammers said.
The president’s answer was to walk to where the candlestick telephone rested on the front counter.