Do or Die by Barbara Fradkin

eyes filled again. With a grimace, she leaned over and made a half-hearted attempt to pick some papers from the floor. “I wish I could. I don’t know what happened to Jonathan and me. I thought he loved me—he said he did—but then he started giving all these excuses about working late and being busy. Usually I helped him with his work, but this time he wouldn’t tell me what he was working on. Then a couple of times when he’d said he was working, I saw him with another woman.”
    â€œWhen was that?”
    â€œIt started about a month ago. Jonathan and I had a big fight over it, and he said I had to trust him. But I’m not a fool. I can’t compete with a woman like that.”
    â€œDo you know who she was?”
    Her mouth quivered. “Raquel Haddad.”
    Haddad, he thought. Lebanese name. “Jet black wavy hair, olive skin?”
    She glanced up in surprise. “You’ve seen her?”
    He shrugged, non-committal. “Who is she?”
    She lowered her eyes and twisted the kleenex around her finger like a noose. “An undergraduate troller. She hung around our floor, looking for prey. She started with another guy but quickly moved on to more promising prospects. At first Jonathan denied she was even in the picture. Then he said she was just a research assistant. Yeah, right.”
    â€œYou didn’t believe him?” “She was all over him.” The noose tightened, then shereleased it with a small gasp. “I…I don’t mean he lied.” She pressed her hand to her forehead and took deep breaths, striving for composure. “It was just his way of letting me down easy. Jonathan hates to hurt anybody. But sometimes being wishy-washy hurts more than an honest yes.”
    â€œHow did he seem recently? Anything different? Was he troubled?”
    â€œHe felt bad about me, I could tell. He avoided me at the university. He’d leave the room if I came in or pretend he was engrossed in a book. Jonathan was never very extroverted, but he seemed quieter than before.”
    â€œSad?”
    She put the shredded kleenex aside and smoothed her bathrobe, in control again. “You know—” She raised her eyes thoughtfully “—sometimes he did look a little sad. I thought maybe she was giving him a rocky ride. She looked a little too…hot-blooded for his temperament.”
    â€œDid you notice anything different between him and his friends or classmates?”
    â€œHe didn’t hang out with them as much as before. He seemed buried in his work. They made snide little comments like ‘Blair thinks he’s going to find a way to make cats talk’.”
    â€œThat sounds jealous. Were others jealous of him?” “Jonathan had no airs. He was handsome and brilliant, but he was also modest and unassuming. I think some guys were even jealous of that. They’d like him to be an arrogant creep, so they could put him down without feeling guilty.”
    â€œAre you saying jealousy was a major problem?”
    â€œJealousy is always a problem in the academic world, Detective. That’s one of the first things my father warned me about.” She smiled wryly. “But then, my father would say jealousy makes a good incentive.”
    Or a good motive for murder, he thought to himself, but did not say it. He wanted to keep her soft and pliable. “Any particular person more jealous than the rest?”
    Suddenly, she unfolded herself from the sofa and drew herself up to her full height, careful to arrange her dressing gown. “I’m sorry, do you want a cold drink? I didn’t realize this would take so long. I should fix myself up a bit.”
    Gone was the moment for pliability. She glided into the kitchen, head high and back straight. Unlike the living room, the kitchen was spare but spotless, every pot neatly stacked on the shelf. She plucked some items from the fridge, tossed them into the