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

sociology real to them. Enrollment went up in the
courses. The number of majors went up. It was remarkable.” She shook her head.
“I’m speechless, just speechless. What a devastating loss.” She took off her
glasses, which hung on a gold chain, and dabbed at her eyes with her thumb and
forefinger, smudging her eyeliner a little. “I’m sorry.”
    “That’s all right, Mary.” I paused a second. “But
some of the students weren’t fans, right?”
    She frowned and waved her hand. “That’s
inevitable.” She leaned toward me. “This has always been a very conservative
environment. When a professor gets students fired up about progressive
causes—income inequality, LGBT issues, sex trafficking—there’ll be some …”
    She didn’t want to say the word. I was fine with
it. “Idiots?”
    She closed her eyes and nodded. “Some
students—community members, too—who see her as a threat to their own interests
and their own values.” She shook her head, as if she were trying to awaken from
a nightmare. “How can I help?”
    “The incident happened last night—we think around
ten pm . She held a class at her
house until nine. We’re going to interview the students in a little while, back
in the sociology department. You know, see if she said anything to them about
being sick. We were hoping you could print us the transcripts of the students.
And let us know if there were any … any disciplinary problems we ought to know
about.”
    The concerned look that came over Mary Dawson’s
face told me what had just happened. “What are you saying?”
    “Like I said, we were hoping you could get us the
records—”
    “No, I mean about how Virginia died.”
    “Mary, this is just routine. We have to
investigate to determine the cause of death. One of the things is we need to
rule out foul play. It’s just protocol.”
    She tilted her head quizzically. “But if you’re
asking about disciplinary problems, you’re obviously thinking—”
    “Mary, don’t get ahead of yourself. The autopsy
hasn’t been conducted yet. We could find out she had some kind of heart
condition. Maybe she had a heart attack or something and fell down the stairs.
Could be just a terrible accident.” I tried for a smile, made it about halfway.
    Mary Dawson stood, put her glasses on, and came
over to me. I pulled the roster out of my leather bag and handed it to her. She
carried it out of her office. I stood and walked over to the office door. She
was asking an assistant to run down the records on the students. The assistant
nodded, photocopied the roster, and handed Mary the original.
    When Mary Dawson gave me back the piece of paper,
I could feel her hand shaking.
    “There’s a couple other things you could help us
with.”
    “Of course.” Her voice was low, her expression
somber. The lines between her eyebrows were sharper now.
    “We need some information on Virginia Rinaldi. We
think maybe Human Resources might know.”
    “Let me get them for you.” She picked up her desk
phone and hit four numbers. “Rhonda, this is Mary.” They did a few seconds of
small talk. “I’m with a police detective. Karen Seagate. There was … an
incident at Virginia Rinaldi’s house last night. The detective has a couple
questions. Can I put her on?” She paused a second, then handed the phone to me.
I sat down on a chair next to her desk and introduced myself to the woman. I
pulled my head back to try to read the buttons on the phone, then hit Speaker.
    “Rhonda, does Professor Rinaldi list a daughter,
maybe in her twenties?” I waited.
    “No, she doesn’t list a daughter. She has a son,
Robert Rinaldi, on her health plan.”
    “Phone or address on him?”
    Rhonda read off a phone number and a street
address. Ryan was writing it all down.
    “Is there a husband?”
    “No.”
    “Does it show a previous last name for the
professor?”
    “No.”
    I thanked Rhonda and hung up.
    Mary Dawson stood, walked over to the office door,
then