Free 1 Picking Lemons by J.T. Toman

arrest on Law and Order, either. But if it isn’t Stephen, who is it?”
    C.J. decided to ignore Betsy’s comment about Stephen’s cultural background as she thought inwardly, You just can never tell with old people. Instead, she batted her eyes innocently. “My dear Betsy. What are you saying? That more than one person might have wanted to kill dearest Edmund?”
    Be tsy chuckled. “Well, I don’t like to speak ill of the dead...”
    “I know. I know. It’s easier to ask who didn’t have a motive. I was talking with Jefferson earlier, and he said he had heard that the police had confirmed that Lisa DeBeyer was at the gallery in New York, so the wife didn’t do it. Which leaves Stephen, Charles, Jefferson, Walter and myself as the only faculty not on vacation, at home, or teaching. Stephen had a motive. Edmund had denied his tenure. That’s why the poor chap is dressed in an orange jump suit as we speak. But assuming it’s not Stephen...Charles had a motive. Edmund was angling to get him kicked off the faculty.”
    “But Charles was at home.”
    “Walter had plenty of motive. Edmund had clearly passed Walter in the department’s ego to brain ratio race. I am sure Walter has been wanting the man dead for years.”
    Again Betsy demurred. “But Walter was in his office. And why kill him now, after all this time?”
    C.J. pursed her lips. “I sure would like Walter’s alibi corroborated, anyhow.”
    “Well, I don’t think it was Walter. If it wasn’t Stephen, I think Jefferson killed Edmund,” Betsy declared confidently.
    “Jefferson?” asked C.J. wonderingly.
    “Yes, ” said Betsy firmly. “On Law and Order , it is always the person you least suspect. And I don’t suspect Jefferson at all. Frankly, he is the only person in the department who is showing any grief. He looks like he hasn’t had any sleep since it happened.”
    “Jefferson?” asked C.J. again. “How would he have done it? He was out running at the time Edmund was killed.”
    “That’s not a problem. He was running laps of the campus, so he could have run one lap, dashed back to Edmund’s office, killed Edmund, and then dashed out again and continued on with the second lap of his run.”
    “But why? Jefferson is the one person who has a productive working relationship with Edmund. It seems unlikely that he decides to suddenly kill his coauthor in the middle of a run. Very unlikely.”
    “Mmmm,” mused Betsy. “ I see what you mean. But I still think it’s Jefferson.”
    *****
    Two coffees and a scone later, and feeling quite rejuvenated, C.J. went to leave Wallaby’s at close on midday. As she was heading out the door, C.J. almost bumped into Annika Jonsdottir. The girl had paid for her coffee and was clearly distracted, walking hastily and talking to herself. By the expression on her face, C.J. could tell the girl was troubled.
    “Annika?” C.J. asked questioningly . Inwardly, C.J. sighed. She hated dealing with student troubles.
    “Oh!” cried Annika with a start. “Professor Whitmore. You startle me.”
    “I see that. Is everything alright? You look… concerned…about something.”
    “Me? Oh, no. Me? I am fine. I am just, um... thinking about...Professor Daniels’s problem set. Excuse me, Professor Whitmore. I must go.”
    W ith that, the young woman scurried off down the street, leaving C.J. staring after her, unsure of what she had just seen.
    A large gust of wind startled C.J. from her reverie. The clouds in the sky were building and had turned a menacing shade of slate grey. C.J. had no idea why the founding fathers decided to settle around New England. Surely it wasn’t for the weather. Long, dragging winters that were suddenly replaced in May by hot, humid summers (apparently missing spring altogether). Summers that eventually eased into fall with its torrential rains from the hurricane season. And it looked as if one of those rains was moving in tonight.
    Really, thought C.J., forgetting all about Annika