Free Murder is an Art by Bill Crider Page A

know whether the class was cancelled.”
    Sally didn’t know. She was supposed to, however. Faculty members were required to notify their department chairs when they were going to be absent, and of course the department chair would notify the head of his or her division.
    Sally looked at her watch. It was nearly nine-twenty. Val had never been more than a few minutes late for his classes. She thought it might be a good idea to go over to the Art and Music Building.
    â€œWhat class is it?” she asked.
    â€œArt Appreciation.”
    That meant a fairly sizable class. Lots of students took Art Appreciation to satisfy part of their core-curriculum requirements.
    â€œIs the rest of the class waiting?” she asked.
    â€œYeah. Some of ’em left, but most of ’em are still there. Mr. Hurley doesn’t like absences.”
    â€œLet’s walk over there, then. If Mr. Hurley’s not there when we get there, I’ll have everyone sign a roll sheet and give it to him. He’s probably had car trouble.”
    She hoped that was all it was. These days, nearly everyone had a cellular phone, and she was sure that Val was no different. Even if he’d had trouble on the road, he could have called to let her know he’d be late.
    She walked over to the Art and Music Building with the student trailing along behind. The classrooms were on the second floor, beside the art gallery, and when she got there, the lecture room was partially filled with students who were talking, reading, laughing, and probably not thinking very much about art. Val Hurley was nowhere to be seen.
    Sally went to the front of the room and announced that it seemed Mr. Hurley was going to be late. Several of the students groaned aloud.
    â€œI can’t believe I got up and drove over here for this,” said a young man in the front row. “This is my only class until noon. I coulda slept three more hours.”
    â€œI’m sorry for the inconvenience,” Sally said. She looked in the desk and found a sheet of notebook paper. “I’ll pass around this paper for you to sign so Mr. Hurley will know you made the effort to be here in case he can’t make it.”
    â€œMore of an effort than he did,” said the boy in the front row. “That’s for sure.”
    Sally let it go. She didn’t like it when faculty members had to miss class without notice, especially ones like Val, who put such an emphasis on student attendance. In his Art Appreciation classes, he even tied attendance to the final grade.
    The students began gathering up their books as soon as they’d signed the roll. Sally couldn’t understand why Val, who was already in trouble, would do something that would upset her and everyone in the administration who found out about it. Not that she would report him. She was used to covering for her faculty.
    After everyone had signed the roll, Sally folded the paper and put it in her purse. She’d drop it in the faculty mail for Val later. She left the classroom and went out through the gallery, pausing this time to look again at some of the pictures. That was when she noticed that one of them was missing.
    The one of the goat.
    She suddenly got a hollow feeling in her stomach. Val was missing and so was the painting. There was something ominous about that.
    The art offices were at the base of the T-shaped gallery, on either side of the entrance to one of the studios. There were only two offices because Hughes had a small art faculty. Very small, in fact. Val was the only full-time member of the department. He hired part-time instructors to teach the rest of the classes.
    Sally walked the length of the gallery and knocked on Val’s door. There was no answer, so she tried the knob. The door was locked, as she’d expected, but she saw Angelina Sanchez, one of the maintenance crew, in the hallway mopping up a spill. She asked Angelina to come in and open the office door.
    And