Free Death by Hitchcock by Elissa D. Grodin Page B

for weaknesses. Just as gardeners experience when their hands are in the dirt, time suspended itself, and Edwina could not have said whether two hours or two minutes had passed as she stood at the board, making modifications to the equations. It was only when her stomach rumbled loudly for the third time that she glanced at her watch, and realized she had skipped lunch.
    Teatime!  
    Weekday afternoon teatime in the Sanborn House Library was yet another gift from that suis generis visionary, Theodore Sanborn. Edwina tipped her mental cap to him as she dusted off her chalky hands and trotted down the marble staircase to the main floor. A caffeine and sugar break would be just the thing.
    The library was crowded. The unwritten ‘silence’ rule was suspended for the tea hour, and the place was filled with the sounds of amiable conversation and laughter. She procured a cup of Earl Grey tea and three ginger cookies, and surveyed the library for a good spot. Milo was sitting near the chess table, reading a magazine and eating from a plate of cookies. Eager for information about the murder investigation, or at least gossip, Edwina seized the opportunity to talk to someone from the Film Studies Department. Hopefully Milo had heard a scrap or two of information floating around Hexley Hall.
    “Long time, no see,” Edwina said genially to Milo.
    Milo looked up. His lap was scattered with cookie crumbs.
    “Hello, Doc. How goes the universe?”
    “It’s moving right along, Milo. The moon still orbits the earth, and there’s a fairly worrying, black hole in the middle of the Milky Way. Everything’s status quo. How about a game?” she said, nodding toward the chessboard.
    The two settled in at the chess table, and Edwina opened with a pawn.
    “What’s the state of the Film Department these days, since the murder?” Edwina ventured.
    “Hm?” Milo said, responding with a pawn.
    “I was just wondering how morale is in the Film Department these days,” Edwina repeated.
    “Oh, right,” Milo said, regarding Edwina with an inscrutable gaze through his tortoise -rimmed glasses.
    “The death of Bunny Baldwin was a real tragedy,” he said.
    Neither the inflection of Milo’s voice nor his facial expression revealed any hint of emotion. His tone was dry, and Edwina could not tell if his sentiment was meant to be genuine or sarcastic.
    “What was she like?” Edwina asked.
    “Waste of space,” Milo replied without looking up.
    “Who would possibly have had a reason to kill her, though?” Edwina said.
    “Beats the tar out of me,” Milo replied, studying the board and moving a chess piece.     
    “Nobody especially appreciated that she was having an affair with Professor Winner,” he said. “I can tell you that much ––but I don’t suppose somebody would kill her because of it. Then again, his affair with Bunny was the reason for the Winner’s divorce. Maybe Mrs. Winner killed Bunny. Hell hath no fury, etcetera.”
    “Since when is getting divorced a motive for murder?” Edwina said, moving a knight.
    “You’d be surprised; it happens all the time,” Milo replied. “You should watch more television. Think about it. High profile film professor dumps his wife for a grad-student-sex-kitten. Must have been pretty humiliating,” he said, raising an eyebrow at Edwina.
    “Yeah, maybe,” Edwina said.  “Do they have kids?”
    “I think so,” Milo replied.
    “Kind of hard to imagine that the mother of young kids would hunt down her husband’s girlfriend and kill her in a public building on campus,” Edwina said, making a move.
    “I don’t know about that,” Milo said. 
    “I’ve seen Mrs. Winner around the Department,” he continued. “Very attractive woman, by the way. I once overheard her talking to the Department secretary, berating Professor Winner. She said some pretty nasty stuff. She’s got quite a temper. Another time I heard her in his office yelling at him, really taking him