Rausch & Donlon - Can Be Murder 03 - Writing Can Be Murder by Marilyn Rausch, Mary Donlon Page B
Authors: Marilyn Rausch, Mary Donlon
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research. He didn’t want me
to see it until he was ready with the final product.”
Frisco said, “Was he working with anyone else on this project?
Another student, maybe?”
The professor frowned. “I’m not quite sure. Rick didn’t mention
anyone else to me.” He shrugged “Could be wrong, though.”
Jo and Frisco rose to leave. Jo grabbed the stack of injunction
documents the professor had left on the desk for her. Out of the corner of her
eye, she noticed a flyer, with the picture of a fresh-faced, attractive young
woman on it.
Curious, she tilted her head and began to read the flyer. It was
an announcement for a vigil for a student who had recently disappeared from the
University of Minnesota’s Minneapolis campus. Jo remembered reading about the
case in the local papers.
Mazlo pointed to the flyer. “Shame about Claire. Wandered away
from a party one night and never returned to her dorm room.” He shook his head.
“I can’t imagine what those parents are going through. She was a smart,
beautiful young woman.”
Frisco said, “So you knew her?”
“Yes, she was in my intro to marketing class last fall.” He
pointed to the flyer. “I plan on going to the vigil tonight; it’s the least I
can do. I sure hope they find her.”
Jo felt a stab of pity for the man. He obviously cared about his
pupils. Jo said, “So sorry to bring you more bad news about another one of your
students.”
“Thank you, Agent Schwann. I appreciate that.”
Jo turned to Frisco. “Do you have any more questions for the professor?”
The detective said, “Nope, guess that’s it for now.” Jo packed up
the copy of the injunction and Michael Mazlo escorted them to the front door.
Glancing around the spacious foyer, Jo remembered a final question
on her mind. “You have a beautiful home, Professor Mazlo. What do you do for a
living?”
Mazlo’s smile was self-deprecating. ”Is that your polite way of
asking how an adjunct professor can afford a house like this?”
Jo smiled. “The thought had crossed my mind.”
“I’m in the import/export business, mostly native art.”
He paused, and tilted his head, studying Jo for a moment. “You’re
wondering why a successful business person would bother teaching classes. Well,
at the risk of sounding pompous, I’ve been very fortunate in my career.
However, I had help along the way. Teaching business classes to young people is
my way of giving back. It brings me immense satisfaction and I like to think it
keeps me young in the process.”
Satisfied, Jo handed Mazlo one of her business cards. “Call me if
you think of anything else.”
The adjunct professor stared down at the card for a moment. “Will
they let me see Rick? At the hospital, I mean.”
Jo said, “That’s not up to us, but I’m sure you could talk to Mr.
Wilson’s mother about it.”
His eyes were closed when he said, “It was just supposed to be a
college credit project, for God’s sake.”
Frisco said, “Yeah, well, it looks like someone took it a little
more seriously.”
Chapter Nine
Turners Bend
Late September
C HIP READ OVER THE CHAPTER of Head Shot he had written the previous
day. He was pleased. He opened a new file for the next chapter, placed his
fingers on the keyboard and…nothing. He stared at the blank screen. Writer’s
block, the frustrating but common ailment suffered by most writers at some
time. He got up and fixed himself a piece of toast with crunchy peanut butter
and blueberry jam, fresh from his friend Mabel’s kitchen. Still nothing.
The
house was empty and so quiet he could hear the clicking of the wall clock and
the humming of the refrigerator. Not a damn word was coming to him. Callie, his
calico, jumped onto his lap and proceeded to curl up on the keyboard. It was
Chip’s cue to quit for the day.
It
was a one of those lovely, late September mornings with bright sunshine, a
China blue sky and a light breeze. Just like the day he had
to see it until he was ready with the final product.”
Frisco said, “Was he working with anyone else on this project?
Another student, maybe?”
The professor frowned. “I’m not quite sure. Rick didn’t mention
anyone else to me.” He shrugged “Could be wrong, though.”
Jo and Frisco rose to leave. Jo grabbed the stack of injunction
documents the professor had left on the desk for her. Out of the corner of her
eye, she noticed a flyer, with the picture of a fresh-faced, attractive young
woman on it.
Curious, she tilted her head and began to read the flyer. It was
an announcement for a vigil for a student who had recently disappeared from the
University of Minnesota’s Minneapolis campus. Jo remembered reading about the
case in the local papers.
Mazlo pointed to the flyer. “Shame about Claire. Wandered away
from a party one night and never returned to her dorm room.” He shook his head.
“I can’t imagine what those parents are going through. She was a smart,
beautiful young woman.”
Frisco said, “So you knew her?”
“Yes, she was in my intro to marketing class last fall.” He
pointed to the flyer. “I plan on going to the vigil tonight; it’s the least I
can do. I sure hope they find her.”
Jo felt a stab of pity for the man. He obviously cared about his
pupils. Jo said, “So sorry to bring you more bad news about another one of your
students.”
“Thank you, Agent Schwann. I appreciate that.”
Jo turned to Frisco. “Do you have any more questions for the professor?”
The detective said, “Nope, guess that’s it for now.” Jo packed up
the copy of the injunction and Michael Mazlo escorted them to the front door.
Glancing around the spacious foyer, Jo remembered a final question
on her mind. “You have a beautiful home, Professor Mazlo. What do you do for a
living?”
Mazlo’s smile was self-deprecating. ”Is that your polite way of
asking how an adjunct professor can afford a house like this?”
Jo smiled. “The thought had crossed my mind.”
“I’m in the import/export business, mostly native art.”
He paused, and tilted his head, studying Jo for a moment. “You’re
wondering why a successful business person would bother teaching classes. Well,
at the risk of sounding pompous, I’ve been very fortunate in my career.
However, I had help along the way. Teaching business classes to young people is
my way of giving back. It brings me immense satisfaction and I like to think it
keeps me young in the process.”
Satisfied, Jo handed Mazlo one of her business cards. “Call me if
you think of anything else.”
The adjunct professor stared down at the card for a moment. “Will
they let me see Rick? At the hospital, I mean.”
Jo said, “That’s not up to us, but I’m sure you could talk to Mr.
Wilson’s mother about it.”
His eyes were closed when he said, “It was just supposed to be a
college credit project, for God’s sake.”
Frisco said, “Yeah, well, it looks like someone took it a little
more seriously.”
Chapter Nine
Turners Bend
Late September
C HIP READ OVER THE CHAPTER of Head Shot he had written the previous
day. He was pleased. He opened a new file for the next chapter, placed his
fingers on the keyboard and…nothing. He stared at the blank screen. Writer’s
block, the frustrating but common ailment suffered by most writers at some
time. He got up and fixed himself a piece of toast with crunchy peanut butter
and blueberry jam, fresh from his friend Mabel’s kitchen. Still nothing.
The
house was empty and so quiet he could hear the clicking of the wall clock and
the humming of the refrigerator. Not a damn word was coming to him. Callie, his
calico, jumped onto his lap and proceeded to curl up on the keyboard. It was
Chip’s cue to quit for the day.
It
was a one of those lovely, late September mornings with bright sunshine, a
China blue sky and a light breeze. Just like the day he had
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