Free The Angel and the Jabberwocky Murders by Mignon F. Ballard Page B

can I find Dean Worthington?” I asked. “Is he still around?”
    â€œNo, Brendon retired soon after that. He died a couple of years ago.”
    I sat on one of the desktops. “What about Dr. Hornsby?”
    Joy Ellen let the blue book drop. “Claymore Hornsby? Uh-uh. Clay came here after old Amos Crockett died. Good English teacher, Professor Crockett, but a bit on the eccentric side. Died during midterms and they had to find a replacement fast. No, Clay couldn’t have had anything to do with that girl’s death.”
    She turned the red pencil in her fingers. “You know, I’d almost forgotten that incident. That’s awful, isn’t it? But it happened soon after classes started that year. The girl hadn’t been on campus long.”
    Joy Ellen tossed aside her pencil and leaned back in her chair. “Hornsby’s admitted he had a fling with D. C. Hunter, but he swears he broke it off that Friday night and didn’t see her again.”
    â€œThat was the night before she died…how do you know this?”
    I must have had a strange expression because Joy Ellen laughed. “Campus grapevine. And it was in this morning’s paper. I’m surprised you didn’t see it.”
    â€œHaven’t had a chance,” I said. “But I did stop by The Messenger over the weekend to look through some old issues. Did you know that Londus Clack was the one who discovered the Isaacs girl and the girl who was supposed to have fallen from the Tree House?”
    â€œWell, that makes sense. He’s always up earlier than everybody else, and his work takes him all over the campus.” Joy Ellen thought for a minute, then shrugged. “Nah! Londus is scared of his shadow. Besides, I can’t see him getting that riled at anybody.”
    I told her what had happened to his father. “I’ve always heard it’s the calm ones you have to watch out for,” I said. “The ones who hold it in.”
    â€œCould be, but if the police thought Londus was guilty, they would’ve arrested him by now—unless he’s a lot slyer than I think.”
    I resisted the impulse to look behind me. Were we dealing with two different murderers? “What about the professor?”
    â€œI can’t believe Clay Hornsby would let himself get mixed up in a thing like this—especially since his novel was accepted last summer. They’ve been playing it up big in the English Department.” Joy Ellen’s eyebrows went up. “But…a waitress in Columbia says she served Clay and a young woman that Friday before D.C. disappeared and that the girl looked like she’d been crying. Said she recognized them when she saw their pictures on the television news. Sounds like the two of them were together all that day.” She marked another book. “And then there’s that box of breath mints with his prints on it, and of course they were all over that shed, too, I hear.”
    â€œWhat does he say about that?” I asked.
    â€œWhat can he say? They were his, all right. That old shed was their secret meeting place, but he swears he didn’t see her after that night. Says they had a long talk, then D.C. drove back to the campus, or at least that’s what he assumed she did. Clay drove over to Table Rock Mountain and rented a cabin for a couple of nights.” Joy Ellen made a face and shook her head. “Needed time to think! Anyway, he got home late Sunday and didn’t find out D.C. was missing until the next day…or so he says.”
    â€œThat would explain why somebody heard her crying,” I said. “And her roommate swears her car wasn’t there when she got in that Friday night, so D.C. must’ve come in later. But wouldn’t the people who rented the cabin to Clay Hornsby remember if he was there?”
    â€œIt seems so, but of course I don’t know the details. The last I heard, the police were