Free A Function of Murder by Ada Madison

was already being scrutinized and improvements were in the works. Whatever
     that meant. Most prominent in the email was a warning to the faculty and staff not
     to talk to anyone “outside the HC family,” and to avoid speaking to the press, especially.
     All questions should be referred to the college’s Office of Government and Community
     Relations.
    I got the message.
    I was sure Ariana and Bruce were considered to be part of the Henley College family,
     and I had no desire to call around to anyone else with the news.
    I’d run out of emails, but there were still a few more voice mails on both my landline
     and my cell.
    More OMGs caused me to press delete before the poor student got her entire message
     out. At some point I’d have to step up and offer whatever I could by way of comfort
     and a willing ear to my charges.
    I scanned my phone screen and saw that I had one message left, from a private caller,
     around noon, long before any of the action on campus, both good and bad. I almost
     didn’t bother hitting the arrow, but decided I might as well complete the job. I touched
     the screen and heard a male voice. A first, other than calls from Bruce. None of the
     guys in my classes had tried to contact me. Apparently males took things like grades
     and campus crime more in stride than females. Good to know, in case something like
     this incident happened in the future.
    I heard a vaguely familiar voice. “Dr. Knowles. Sophie, if I may. This is Ed Graves.
     Looking forward to seeing you at graduation today.”
Throat clearing.
“I need to talk to you.”
    I stopped the message. Ed Graves? Mayor Graves? Not only a first name this time, but
     a nickname? The world seemed to go into a Fourier transform where casual acquaintances
     became bosom buddies. Or maybe the bruschetta had soured and clouded my hearing.
    I played the message again, and listened further.
    “I need to talk to you. Someplace outside my office. Something’s troubling me about
     Zeeman and I’d like to enlist your help.” A pause here led me to believe the call
     had ended, but eventually he continued. “Please call my direct line, 508-555-0137,
     so we can set up a time. In the meantime—”
    The mayor was cut off by my message limit. I clenched my jaw and cursed the technology
     that didn’t allow him to finish, as if it were the fault of the electrons, or whatever
     rattled around in my phone. I wrote down his direct number out of habit, even as I
     realized I’d never use it.
    I played the mayor’s—Ed’s—message once again, and noted again the time it had come
     in—12:20 PM . I couldn’t seem to stop myself. I played it twice more all the way through. Maybe
     I’d hear a word or phrase that would explain why he’d chosen to involve me on the
     last day he was alive. I hated that I didn’t know what would havefollowed
in the meantime
if my message limit hadn’t intervened. Each replay was creepier than the last as
     I tried to match the voice on my phone with that of our keynote speaker of a lifetime
     ago.
    A dying mayor had asked for my help. Twice in one day. Two times too many. I had to
     know why.
    Virgil was my best bet. I’d play this message for him and he’d be able to put some
     things together and satisfy my curiosity. Too bad it was one thirty in the morning
     and he wouldn’t be sitting in his office. Also, too bad it was one thirty in the morning
     and I still wasn’t sleepy.
    I left a cryptic message on Virgil’s office voice mail, to the effect that I needed
     to play a cell phone message for him, whenever he’d be available tomorrow. “If you
     have plans to go hiking in the hills, please call me first,” I ended. As long as I’d
     known him, Virgil hadn’t even taken a long walk on a flat road. I hoped I’d given
     him a smile that would get us off to a good start when I played the mayor’s message
     for him and then quizzed him about the investigation.
    I wrote down what I knew about Mayor