Free Murder is Academic by Lesley A. Diehl Page B

new hobby now that he was between positions. He decided they lived in just the right location for fishing. She wasn’t surprised, but I was. I couldn’t imagine Withers fishing, but sure enough, he came up to us at that point in the conversation carrying newly purchased fishing equipment including an expensive rod and reel. Annie was with me and commented later that she thought the fishing gig was simply a cover for other activities, if you know what I mean.”
    “Go on.”
    “So I expect that he’s caught between a rock and a hard place. If he were out there at the lake, he probably had someone with him, and I don’t mean a fish or two. She would be a good alibi except that he can’t use her because then his wife would know what he was doing, not fishing, I mean.”
    “You think his wife would prefer to think of him as a murderer than as an adulterer?” Der seemed to think this was absurd.
    “Oh, yes, I do. You’ve never met Margo. She’s Italian and acts like Tony Soprano’s sister, you know, the one who shot her husband. She’s scary.”
    “I hope you’re not serious. Do you have any idea who the other woman could be?”
    “None whatsoever, but I can try to find out from my sources. All ‘amateur detectives’ have sources, you know. I’ll get back to you.” I hung up before he could say another word through those thin lips of his.
    I returned to my colleagues still sipping coffees in the snack bar, then trekked across campus center to talk with those gathered under the maples. I hoped someone might know more about Withers than I knew. I got lucky. In less than half an hour, I knew the name of the student with whom Withers was linked and had been, I learned, for the past year. It was the first I heard of it. Too much serious work, not enough smoozing with my colleagues. I gotta get out more.

Chapter 8
    Returning to my hothouse office once more to tackle a paper that was not developing well did not appeal. I decided to give Beth a call to see if she was interested in stopping by the house for dinner on the weekend when I planned to have Annie, Guy and Der, assuming we were still speaking to each other. Beth picked up on the second ring and agreed that Saturday night would fit her schedule well. I told her the menu would be simple and confirmed that she was a red meat eater. She offered to bring wine, and I accepted.
    “Listen, I hope this is not awkward for you. I mean, I certainly can extend the invitation to Will if you wish to include him.” I hoped she would refuse this offer. She did.
    “We’re not on the best of terms right now. I made an appointment with the counselor, but Will is refusing to come with me. He says the affair is over, that I should forget about it, and that there is absolutely nothing to talk about with a counselor. He had the audacity to tell me I was being childish about a little indiscretion. I’m still going to go anyway. I’ve been picturing myself shoving him into the lake after I’ve had a go at his head with a pickax. That can’t be healthy thinking, can it?”
    Not at all healthy, I thought to myself as I drove home. I pictured the president’s death at the hands of someone wielding a shovel. My cell rang just as I turned into my drive. It was Guy.
    “How about a ride on the bike and dinner somewhere?” It sounded wonderful after my frustrating day in my hot office.
    “Good idea. I have a lot to tell you. Come on by. The door’s open. I’m just going to jump in the shower.”
    “I’ll join you. I’m just leaving work.”
    I ran up the stairs and turned on the water in the shower so it could warm up. The screen door slammed, and I realized that Guy was only a few short steps behind me. We both threw off our clothes and headed for the shower. This time he was reasonably well behaved, and we still had at least a half-cup of warm water remaining in the shower before we stepped out and began to dry off.
    “I’m a little surprised at your good behavior. Too