Free The Cinco de Mayo Murder by Lee Harris

that mountain in Arizona.
    “I will do that, Miss Bennett. I knew Heinz and I liked him. He would have made a fine scholar. His goal was toteach, and I couldn't think of a better career for him. What can I do to help?”
    I outlined the information I wanted, and the dean promised to put a researcher on the job immediately. He would report back to me and let me know what he had before he mailed it to me. I had the presence of mind to get his office extension before we finished our conversation. I didn't want to go through another set of hurdles if I needed to call him again.
    Having achieved more than I'd hoped, I took my shopping list and went back to the homely tasks that would keep my home and family going.
    Late in the day Dean Hershey called me back. “I have everything you asked for, Miss Bennett, including a sketch of the dormitory corridor he lived on. The occupants of every room are named, and there's a list of the most recent addresses the college has. Some are as old as graduation, but many of the men have been generous donors. I have their current addresses.”
    “That will be very helpful, Dean Hershey. I can't thank you enough.”
    “All I ask of you is that you let me know the outcome of your sleuthing. I've thought for twenty years that that poor boy slipped and fell to his death, and that was bad enough. But if some person caused his death, I want to know about it.”
    “I'll tell you whatever I learn.”
    “Thank you. I'm overnighting the package. You should have it by noon tomorrow.”
    I called Joseph to tell her the news.
    “I'm so glad you called, Chris,” she said, sounding harried. “I returned to such a mess, I couldn't believe my eyes. Unanswered phone calls, a washing machine that has diedof old age, Harold the gardener suddenly taken ill. I thought I was a good planner, but apparently I need to go back to planning school.”
    I commiserated and then told her my news.
    “What luck! A dean who actually taught that young man. Of course he's interested in the outcome. It sounds as though you'll be happily busy for days to come.”
    “I'd certainly rather be busy talking to Heinz's old friends than shopping for a washing machine. I hope Harold is all right.”
    “It sounds like his annual back trouble. We'll cope. Be sure to call with news.”
    Before Jack came home, I got on the computer and found Rimson College's website. It was one of those fine old liberal arts colleges that specialized in English and history, languages and literature. It had both men and women students, but they had the choice of living in either separate or mixed dormitories. Heinz had opted to live with male students.
    I looked at the current year's curriculum. If you were a student of American or European history, it was a fine place to study. The members of the faculty were listed with photos and bios. One had won a Pulitzer Prize some years before; another had been a Rhodes Scholar. Several had had Fulbrights. I was impressed with their credentials.
    The pictures of the campus showed green grass and mostly old buildings, although two new ones were highlighted, a library of glass and steel overlooking a waterfall and a cafeteria near the dormitories. I thought how wonderful it would be to study in a place like that, how conducive to learning such a campus would be.
    I made note of the professors who had been teaching there the longest in the hope that some of them might remember Heinz. The English professor who had won thePulitzer had been there for more than thirty years; a history professor had also been on the faculty that long. One of the younger history professors had graduated from Rimson about the time that Heinz would have, had he lived. That might be a fruitful source.
    All in all, I felt I was moving forward. Jack agreed when he came home.
    “That's a stroke of luck, finding a dean who knew the guy personally. It makes him an ally.”
    “It really does. He's overnighting the stuff.” I told him about the