The Reveal: A Detectives Seagate and Miner Mystery (Book 6) by Mike Markel

drunk and pass out. Twitching would’ve
been smarter.”
    Ryan nodded, like I’d made a good point. He looked
down at his tablet. “Let me see how many students are in the porn class.”
    I pulled the roster out of my bag. “Seventeen.”
    “Long as we’re here, want to see what we can learn
about them?”
    I looked at my watch: 9:30. “Yeah, we got some
time.”
    “Want me to call Mary Dawson?”
    “The dean of students?”
    He nodded, then swiped a little bit on his tablet
screen. He pulled out his cell and punched in a number, then handed me his
phone.
    I got through to her and asked if we could meet
for a couple minutes about a case we were working on. I ended the call and
handed Ryan his phone. “She said she’d be happy to meet with us.” I smiled.
“Said she looks forward to it.”
    “She hasn’t heard about Virginia Rinaldi.”
    “Doesn’t sound like it.”
    “So why are we asking about the students?” Ryan
said.
    I thought for a moment. “We’re investigating the
cause of death. Want to talk to the students, see if Virginia told any of them
she was sick. We need their contact information.”
    “I already know how to get their contact
information.”
    I looked at him. “Or we open with how the
professor was a total bitch. Then we’ll show her the roster and ask her which
student Virginia pissed off so bad he tossed her down the stairs.”
    Ryan smiled. “Now, that’s a plan.”

 
    Chapter 5
    Mary Dawson, the dean of
students at Central Montana State University, emerged from her office to greet us.
She was an attractive woman gracefully approaching fifty. She wore
dean-appropriate clothing—wool slacks and blazer, a silk blouse, a single
strand of pearls—and used restraint in cutting and coloring her hair. Only her
multicolored eyeglass frames hinted at her youthful personality.
    I’m sure she had to do all sorts of dreary and
depressing administrative chores, but most people in Rawlings saw her on TV as
the students’ proud mother hen. At graduations and award ceremonies, she was
always right up front, clapping, smiling, and making whooping noises. She
hugged the students and kissed them on the cheek. The girls drank in the
attention. Even the boys, intent on acting too cool for her, couldn’t help
smiling when she made a fuss over them. They knew she meant it.
    And when a student screwed up or got hurt—which,
unfortunately, we’d seen a few times—she took it personally, like it was one of
her own kids. We’d seen her tear into a kid who let her down; and we’d seen her
crying, out of control, at a student’s funeral service.
    Today she put on a tentative smile. She didn’t
have anything against me and Ryan, but she knew that detectives don’t usually
stop by to chat.
    “Thanks for taking the time, Dean Dawson. You
remember my partner, Detective Ryan Miner?”
    “Yes, of course. Detective.” She shook Ryan’s
hand, then turned back to me. “Call me Mary.”
    She led us back into her office and gestured for
us to sit. She took one of the chairs across from ours. “I’m afraid to ask.”
She ran her fingers through her auburn hair.
    “Unfortunately, it’s not good news. Virginia
Rinaldi—the sociology professor?—has died.”
    “Oh, my God. What happened?” Her hand came up to
her mouth.
    “We think it was an accident at her home. She fell
down the stairs.”
    “This is just terrible.” She shook her head. “What
a dynamic personality. Her students loved her.”
    “You heard that?”
    “That’s all I heard. Dr. Rinaldi this, Dr. Rinaldi
that. She helped so many of the students—”
    “You mean, like getting jobs, getting into
graduate school?”
    “Well, yes, there was that. But even the ones who
weren’t her majors. She’d hook them up with community groups—internships,
volunteer work. She had them reaching out to the refugee communities, the
migrant workers, the women’s shelter, the nursing homes. Any population that
needed help. She made