Do or Die by Barbara Fradkin Page A

blender, and disappeared, giving Green a chance to snoop. He could tell a lot about a person by the way they arranged their kitchen. In his own home, three half-empty boxes of Cheerios and a lidless ketchup bottle were likely to fall on your head when you opened a cupboard door, but there was no such danger here. There certainly wasn’t much money either, but the neat, organized inhabitant was making the most of it. The kitchen table doubled as a desk, and a painted bookshelf held cans and boxes neatly arranged by type. The food was simple and utilitarian—no spices or exotic grains.
    Green revised his initial impression of Jonathan’s ex-girlfriend. The mess in the living room was superficial, created in a day of shock and grief. Marianne Blair was right; Vanessa Weeks was very much her own woman, practical, organized and used to being in control. True to this insight, she returned a minute later dressed in shorts and a pink T-shirt over a lean, muscular body. Her hair was combed back into a pony tail and her face was freshly scrubbed. He could see now that she was pretty in a wholesome way. She flipped off the blender.
    â€œJoe Difalco,” she replied as if the conversation hadn’t been interrupted. “Joe hates his guts, and it’s pure, simple jealousy.Joe thinks he’s God’s gift to women, but he’s just a swaggering Latin pig. He’s supposed to be Professor Halton’s golden boy, but people went to Jonathan when they needed brains. Joe grew up in a sixteen-room mansion in Cedarhill, and his daddy owns five cars, including a Lamborghini, but Jonathan gets invited to 24 Sussex Drive. Joe thinks the world is at his feet because his parents always told him it was, but it was really at Jonathan’s feet.”
    â€œYou don’t like this guy much, do you?”
    To her credit, she managed a laugh. “When you hold Joe and Jonathan up together, there’s no comparison. If someone had to die…” Her voice trailed off as she busied herself setting out glasses. He tried to imagine mentally how yogurt, carrots, club soda and wheat germ would taste.
    â€œDid you ever hear Joe threaten Jonathan or act as if he wanted to harm him?”
    â€œNo. Joe’s strategy was to pretend Jonathan didn’t exist. Joe is a doctoral student in the final stages of his dissertation. He’s one of Halton’s most senior students. Jonathan’s a lowly Masters student. Final year, so higher than me, who’s just beginning, but I’m not sure Professor Halton would even have noticed him if his mother wasn’t made of money. Jonathan presented a threat, but more for his potential than his present status.”
    â€œDoes Joe have a temper? Ever seen him angry?”
    â€œI’m sure he does. He can be very intense. Wound up like a spring, impatient, restless.” She poured a yellow sludge into each glass. “It suggests inadequate cortical control of the limbic system.”
    He skirted the editorializing deftly as he took his glass from her. “What does this guy look like?”
    â€œGood-looking, I suppose, if you like the Mediterranean look. Dark, curly hair, big brown eyes. Compact but muscular.I’d say he does weights.”
    â€œMustache?”
    She shuddered. “No, at least not that.”
    â€œDo you think he is capable of murder?”
    â€œAbsolutely.”
    They returned to the living room and, as casually as he could, he set his drink on the floor by his side, out of sight. Over the next half hour, he probed her knowledge of the routine details of Jonathan Blair’s life. Blair enjoyed cycling, boating and skiing, but in recent months had done little but his research.
    â€œDid he enjoy a good read?” Green asked casually. “The classics, for example?”
    Her brow furrowed in confusion.
    â€œHe was in the literature section.”
    â€œOh.” Her brow cleared. “He read constantly, yes, and he