Free Do or Die by Barbara Fradkin Page B

want to lose your goddamn job with Halton. And because—” he paused for drama, “you’re not sure if Miller did it.”
    â€œI am! I am!” she raged. Before Green had a chance to jump away, she threw open the door.
    Green found himself face to face with a pair of horrified blue eyes in a tangle of brassy curls. Behind her, a dark-eyed young man leaped to his feet, the last traces of a sardonic smile fleeing from his face. No mustache, but rich black hair.
    The man found his voice first. “Who the fuck are you!”
    Green pushed past the blonde and strode into the room. “Inspector Green of the Ottawa Police,” he said, flipping open his notebook. He left his pocket tape recorder on, which he sometimes used to record interviews secretly, but the notebook was necessary for court. “Your names, please.”“Can you just barge in here and ask us that?” the young man blustered.
    â€œI’m investigating a homicide. You’re within your rights to refuse to cooperate, but then, of course, I’d probably wonder why. And I can get pretty nosy.”
    Green was always amazed how well that subtle threat worked with bullies. He was afraid he’d look ludicrous waving his badge around and sounding like Columbo, but somehow the effect transcended the freckles, the nose and the Zellers attire. Meekly, the two identified themselves. Joseph Difalco and Rosalind Simmons.
    Green gestured to Difalco. “You wait here while I take Miss Simmons’ statement outside. If you both cooperate, we’ll be through in no time.”
    The two exchanged one long, wordless stare before Rosalind turned and marched out the door. Green chose an empty office next door and gestured her to a seat. She was clearly nervous, but she remained standing and fixed him with a stubborn stare.
    â€œI overheard some interesting things in there,” he began softly. “I think you’d better begin by telling me what the hell is going on here.”
    He could almost see her mind racing backwards over the conversation, trying to recall what she and Difalco had let slip. To buy herself time, she chose to be obtuse.
    â€œGoing on? Joe and I were just talking, officer.” She widened her eyes. “Not what you think.”
    â€œI sure didn’t think that,” Green replied drily. “Not from what I heard. So don’t play me for a fool, Miss Simmons. I haven’t the time for it. And don’t think that I’m dumb just because I’m a cop. Stop batting the eyelashes, sit down, and tell me straight why you think Miller did it.”
    â€œDid what?”
    â€œMurdered Jonathan Blair.” “I don’t think that!” she gasped in horror. “Why should you...?”
    â€œDifalco said you weren’t sure if Miller did it.”
    She frowned, and her bewilderment seemed genuine. Then abruptly the memory fell into place. “Oh! No, not the murder. Nothing to do with the murder, just some professional matter. Joe was just taunting me.”
    â€œWhat professional matter?”
    â€œIt’s…it’s a long story and really very trivial.”
    â€œDifalco didn’t make it sound trivial.”
    â€œJoe can’t stand the fact that I won’t jump into his bed like everyone else. He takes pot shots at me every chance he gets.”
    Green sat down in the swivel chair opposite her. “I’m waiting.”
    She studied the floor, gathering her forces. Finally, she took a deep breath. “It’s just professional rivalry. Between Joe and Dave. Joe has been Professor Halton’s student for six years, and Dave just came last year. But Dave already has his Ph.D. from Stanford.” She cast him a look that could have been disdain. “That’s a top university in the States. Anyway, Joe couldn’t stand that. He said some of his research data disappeared, and he accused Dave of deliberately erasing it from his