Scholar's Plot by Hilari Bell Page A

“Is that what you wanted? To be in charge? To take us robbing, and scam—”
    “I’m in charge,” Kathy interrupted firmly. “And if you’re both going to be so childish about it, you can take turns. First one investigation, then the other. Michael in charge while you investigate the project, Fisk in charge when you investigate Master Hotchkiss’ death. Is that all right with you boys?”
    “’Tis well with me,” Michael said huffily. “I don’t have to be in charge all the time. ’Tis Fisk who suddenly—”
    “What about you, Fisk?” Kathy asked hastily.
    It wasn’t all right but Michael had agreed, and objecting would make me look childish and petty. And even if I felt that way, I didn’t want to show it.
    “That works for me. But once it becomes clear that the project’s nothing, and it’s the murder that matters, do I get to be in charge all the time?”
    “And if ’tis the project that got Benton framed, then I was right, and I take charge!” Michael said swiftly. “Done?”
    “Done!”
    “Men,” Kathy muttered.
    “I’ll even let Michael go first,” I added magnanimously. Which not only made me look more mature, it gave me time to figure out something to investigate. Because right now, I had no idea where to start.
    Michael realized it, of course. He was crazy, but he wasn’t a fool. He just played one. And for almost four years — had I actually been mad? — he’d sucked me into the farce with him.
    “That’s all right,” he said. “Unlike Fisk, I know what to do next.”
     

I claimed a few hours’ sleep, having got none the night before, but the tavern across the street from Benton’s lodging was still serving luncheon by the time we were ready to set out — so I insisted on a meal, as well. The turkey was cold, left over from yesterday, but the rolls were fresh from the oven and piping hot.
    Conversation was stiff, for I declined to share my plans. In part because they were still a bit vague. Though Fisk had some questions for Benton I’d not thought to ask.
    “When you had your hearing, did you think the university board or the headman might be in on it? Because if the fix starts at the top they’re going to hire the first person who shows up, and we won’t stand a chance of getting your job back.”
    Benton looked startled. “Oh, surely not. At least, I don’t think so. They all seemed sincerely angry and distressed. Mostly angry,” he finished glumly. “The board I mean. They went on and on about how a university’s reputation is its most important treasure, and all it took was one cheating professor to defile it.”
    “What of the headman?” I asked. “He’s the one who recommended that you be hired, wasn’t he?”
    Benton nodded. “He was both angry and upset. Headman Portner would never cheat on anything to do with the university, or anyone involved with it. The scholars make jokes about his title, the headman is coming for you, that kind of thing. But he’s very tolerant of student idiocy. The only thing he’s strict about is academic honesty, which is why he was so furious with me. He cares deeply about the university’s integrity — he doesn’t even tolerate academic sloppiness, much less cheating. So ’tis no wonder he said…”
    His voice trailed off in misery, and Kathy put in a swift suggestion that before we went to the university we should go to Fisk’s inn, and fetch back Tipple and his traps. By the time we got back, she added, our attic rooms should be clean. I noted Fisk’s grimace as he realized the rooms weren’t in use at the moment, and instantly resolved not to complain no matter how hot our lodging got, or even if the roof leaked.
    Heat was the more likely problem. We had to hike across half the town to reach the inn, and the day was already growing hot.
    Fisk went in to argue that since he hadn’t slept in his room last night, he shouldn’t have to pay full price for it, while I went to the stable to greet a dear old