Free 5 Deal Killer by Vicki Doudera Page A

mind, whether she was flipping through a magazine, watching reality television, or trying to fall asleep. She knew it was because she was more sensitive than other people, more attuned to the spirit world. Perhaps if she had more information, she could both block out the bloody images and help the police with their investigation.
    She glanced at the watch encircling her freckled wrist. Professor Porter had been in a rush that morning, nearly late for his eleven o’clock seminar. Catching his eye had been impossible. Now it seemed he was keeping the students later than usual, and the waiting was tiresome.
    Her stomach growled. Not wanting to miss the British journalist, she’d foregone her customary one hour-plus lunch at the pizza shop around the corner in favor of a tasteless granola bar at her desk. She yanked open a drawer to see if a stray Hershey Kiss was tucked behind the stapler. No luck. Maybe she’d find something sweet further back, behind the tape dispenser?
    Footsteps on the wooden floors outside her door made her pull back a pudgy arm as if she’d seen a snake.
    “Professor Porter?” She stumbled to her feet, nearly tipping a mug full of cold coffee onto her keypad. “May I have a word?”
    Hustling to the hallway, she nearly collided with a young woman clutching a laptop and a dead potted plant. Enormous black boots—the kind construction workers wore—made her bare legs look like matchsticks.
    “Is the registrar’s office in this building?” she asked.
    Peggy shook her head and directed the young woman to the correct office. She looked like a child, with her knobby knees and air of uncertainty. Peggy sniffed. I may not have gone to Columbia, but I have responsibilities—a job, a dog, and my own house . She plodded back to her desk and plumped the seat cushion on her office chair. The rumblings of hunger had turned to gnawing pains.
    “Ms. Babson?”
    She looked up. Miles Porter paused in the doorway, a shock of brown hair falling over his forehead.
    “Hallo,” he said, smiling.
    Hallo. She loved that, the way he sounded like he’d stepped off the set of Downton Abbey .
    “Professor Porter! I didn’t hear you in the hall.” No doubt the clomping of the girl’s heavy boots had drowned out his footfall. “How was your seminar?”
    “Oh, they’re all very antsy—thinking about finals and such.”
    “Yes, of course.” She felt her face flush. “What about the poor girl who lost her fiancé? Natalia? Did anyone mention that?”
    “Not to me, but I’m sure her classmates are aware and properly sympathetic.” Miles raised a hand and she realized he was preparing to leave.
    “I hoped we could chat a bit about what happened yesterday.” She sounded shriller than she wanted and looked down at her nails. The polish was due for a change and they needed a good filing. “That man who was stabbed.”
    “Ah, yes. Horrible thing.” He glanced at his mobile. “I’m off to meet a friend, but I have a few minutes.”
    A few minutes. She felt irritation mixing with her mounting hunger. “Have you heard anything about who may have killed him?”
    “No, nothing.” He frowned. “Did you meet the fellow? Alec Ro din?”
    “Yes, well, that is to say, not exactly. I heard you speaking in your office, and then I saw him going down the stairs.” She bit her lip. “Your voices were quite loud.”
    Miles Porter nodded. “Indeed. I became pretty angry, I’m afraid.”
    “Yes. I heard you quite clearly.” She sniffed and felt the British man’s interest pique.
    “I threatened him—you may have heard that, although I certainly didn’t mean it.”
    “You sounded serious to me.” She blinked her eyes a few times. “Of course, I didn’t tell the police exactly what you said …”
    “Why, Ms. Babson?”
    “Because you said you’d kill him!”
    “My dear woman, I took an instant dislike to Rodin, but I never would have murdered the man. Tell the police whatever you’d like.”
    She lifted