Free Bond With Death by Bill Crider Page B

rudimentary grasp of sentence structure, and could even write a compound sentence on demand. But it was likely to be something like one of her favorites, “Bill have him a coat, but I be cold.” It was a compound sentence. There was no way to get around it.
    Others had a better command of the proper use of verbs, but they couldn’t spell. Sally liked a sentence she’d gotten on one paper in which the student had talked about “bushing his tooths.”
    Even with all the problems that some students had, however, Sally liked teaching the class. She liked the students, and she liked helping them overcome their more obvious problems.
    But today she had trouble keeping her mind on the students’ problems because her sleep had been disturbed by dreams of some ragged woman, Sarah Good most likely, being dragged before a huge wooden structure upon which several men in dark robes sat, looking down on her accusingly and questioning her about things Sally couldn’t understand.
    In addition, her mind kept drifting to the upcoming meeting with Fieldstone and Jennifer Jackson. She wondered if they would
treat her the way the villagers and the judges in Salem had treated Sarah Good.
    Sally let the class out a little early, which wouldn’t have pleased Dean Naylor had he known about it, and went by her office for a quick chocolate fix before the meeting. She told herself that she’d eat only half a bar, but she wound up eating the whole thing. She told herself that the walk to Fieldstone’s office would use up the calories, and if that didn’t do it, the meeting would.
    When Sally walked into Fieldstone’s outer office, Eva Dillon gave her an encouraging smile and picked up the telephone.
    â€œDr. Good is here to see you,” she said. Then, after listening for a couple of seconds, she told Sally that Fieldstone was ready for her. “And the Jacksons are in there, too.”
    â€œBoth of them?”
    Eva nodded. “Both of them.”
    Sally had understood that only Jennifer would be there, but she didn’t suppose that Sherm’s presence would make any difference. He was a mousy little man who generally had little to say. Jennifer was the one who did all the talking. The two of them worked together in Sherm’s little independent insurance agency, and Sally had heard that they sold quite a few policies. Jennifer was the salesperson. Sherm was the business manager. He sat in the back and spent most of his time in front of a computer.
    â€œYou can handle them,” Eva said when Sally hesitated outside the door.
    â€œI know,” Sally said. “I’m just a little surprised that they’re both here.”
    â€œIf that’s a surprise, how about this: Christopher Matthys is in there, too.”
    â€œThanks for the warning,” Sally said.
    Matthys was the college’s attorney, and Sally wasn’t really surprised that Fieldstone had asked him to be there. Fieldstone was a careful man, and it was typical of him to have the school’s legal representative at a meeting that was likely to be as contentious as the one between Sally and the Jacksons might become. Fieldstone
would be hoping that Matthys could prevent Sally from saying something the college would regret.
    Sally didn’t think he had a chance.
    On the other hand, Sally thought, maybe she was doing Fieldstone an injustice. It could be that Matthys was there to defend Sally. She’d have to wait and see.
    â€œIf you’re not back in a week, can I have your Hershey bars?” Eva asked.
    â€œBottom drawer, left,” Sally said, and opened the door to Fieldstone’s office.
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    Jack Neville had a composition class at eight o’clock on Tuesday mornings. He spent the time discussing an essay that the students had turned in the previous Thursday. He had used his word processor to copy several paragraphs of examples from the papers, then photocopied the examples for