A Function of Murder by Ada Madison Page A

Was my friend Virgil taking advantage of my weakened state?
    Virgil tapped his pen. “Who voted ‘no’ then?”
    “Is this legal? Don’t you need a warrant for this?” I asked, about 75 percent kidding
     and the rest serious.
    Virgil was 100 percent serious. “Names, Sophie.”
    As uncomfortable as I was exposing colleagues, I saw no other choice. I did my best
     to remember the faculty members, besides me, who’d argued for a different speaker.
    Henley was less than an hour away from more than a hundred colleges, universities,
     art schools, law schools, med schools, and divinity schools in the greater Boston
     area. There was no question that among the Henley faculty, we had enough contacts
     to talk a professor at one of them into collecting a fee for a fifteen-minute commencement
     address.
    In a way, we were all against the mayor. The aye votes were really votes to cooperate
     with our president and deans who saw money coming to the school in the form of a new
     building.
    I gave Virgil ten names from the losing side, as he wanted to put it. Four representing
     science and mathematics—Fran’s and mine included—and six from assorted humanities
     departments.
    “Anyone stand out as more determined than the others?”
    “More determined to do what? All these questions, Virgil. Has the mayor died? Was
     he…murdered?”
    Virgil slapped his notebook lightly against the palm of his hand. “Anyone react more
     strongly than others at the meeting? Make threats. Anything like that?”
    I took a deep breath. The kind just before you might lie to the police.
    I thought of Chris Sizemore, who’d stormed out of the meeting after the vote to invite
     the mayor. She’d thrown the paper with the single-item agenda into the trash and said
     something like, “This is a big mistake.” I never figured outwhy Chris’s reaction was over-the-top, but she was quick-tempered at the best of times.
     She was also young and idealistic, which accounted for a lot in my book.
    I analyzed Virgil’s questions.
Did anyone react strongly?
he’d asked. Now that I thought about it, Chris may have simply
rushed
out of the room, which was different from
storming
out. Maybe she was late for another meeting. Or maybe she had a bathroom emergency.
    Virgil had also asked if anyone had made threats. I wouldn’t have called
This is a big mistake
a threat, just an opinion. It wasn’t as if Chris had wielded a gun while she said
     it. Or a letter opener.
    In any case, Chris’s name was on the list I’d already rattled off to Virgil. If there
     was anything more to her outburst, he’d rout it out.
    Hadn’t I heard that the wife was always a prime suspect? Nora Graves had probably
     had to put up with a lot as Henley’s First Lady, while her husband had his eyes on
     a senate seat, and perhaps an eye where it shouldn’t be. I tried to imagine the beautifully
     put-together Nora Graves coming down on her husband’s back with enough force to kill
     him. I couldn’t see it, especially when I inserted their teenager, Cody, into the
     picture. I wondered if the Henley PD ruled out wives with children.
    While I was thinking of names I should give to Virgil, Kira Gilmore came to mind,
     but Virgil was asking about volatile behavior against the mayor, not in defense of
     him. No need to bring her into this right now. I was sure Virgil and his team would
     interview all the students present, if they hadn’t already. Kira was the last person
     I could think of who’d be able to hurt someone.
    “Sophie?” Virgil asked. “Anyone stand out?”
    “No,” I told him. “No one in particular.” I took a breath. “Do you think I could go
     home now?”
    This time he nodded, but he gave me a look that said he’d be back with that question
     and more.
    I felt I’d done my duty, or close enough, by Virgil. Maybe he would return the favor.
    “What do the doctors say? Can you tell me anything about the mayor’s condition?”
    “Not at the