One Coffee With

Sandy 's dimples flashed tentatively. "I was afraid of her," she confessed. "I know I shouldn't be, but she and the president's secretary and the dean of administrations' secretary eat lunch together every day, and they're very good friends, and-I mean-well, they practically run the college."

"The pecking order," said Sigrid, sharing a glance of mutual understanding with Tillie. They both knew how civil service worked, and the girl's reluctance to put off an important dean's secretary was suddenly quite clear.

That part was Greek to Piers Leyden, and he wasn't interested in a translation. "What I do want to know is how did Bert do it? Sure, he had plenty of time to doctor Riley's cup while Sandy was in with Vance, but how could he be certain Riley would pick the right one?"

"And what did he think Harley saw?" asked Sandy. "By the time Harley got here, Professor Simpson was back at his desk; and I'm sure he didn't come back in till after Professor Qui

In the last three days Sigrid had listened to many lectures from these professional teachers, and she was not loath to take the lectern herself now.

"It was a matter of good timing and simple sleight of hand," she said. "Remember how Harley Harris sat in this chair right here by the bookcase that held the coffee tray? As someone pointed out, this office is the departmental crossroads, and it's always jammed at the end of the third period. Now Qui

Nods and murmurs of assent.

"You were all here," Sigrid said wickedly. "Who was next to take coffee from that tray?"

"Oscar?" someone asked doubtfully.

"Oh!" exclaimed Andrea Ross. Her eyes sparkled with comprehension. "Of course! I even offered to help, but he said he could manage by himself."

"The books!" cried Sandy.

"That's right," said Sigrid. "Immediately after Professor Qui

"Poison in both cups!" said Lemuel Vance. "So it didn't matter which one Riley picked. I guess old Bert was smarter than he looked."

"Aren't we all?" said Leyden.

22

WITHOUT quite knowing how it happened, Sigrid found herself riding down in the elevator alone with Oscar Nauman. Her awkwardness had returned, and she tried to cover with a rude remark.

"I hope you have another pipe. That wad of adhesive tape looks pretty asinine." He ignored it. "I'll pick you up ats even."

"Pick me up for what?"

"Di

"You've decided-" His gall left her speechless.

"Wear your green suit," he said. "The one with the purple and indigo blouse."

The elevator doors slid open on the ground floor.

"You looked in my closet yesterday? How dare you! That's invasion of privacy!" Indignantly she hurried to catch up with him as he strode down the hall. He held the door for her at the back entrance of Van Hoeen Hall where Detective Tildon waited with the car.

"Seven o'clock," Nauman repeated. "Green suit. And leave your hair loose."

"Be damned if I will!" she said angrily as she slid into the car beside Detective Tildon and banged the door shut.

Tillie looked shocked at her unprecedented display of emotion, but Sigrid ignored his curious face. Never had she met a man so willful, conceited and infuriating!

Even so, as they drove through the college gates, she found herself wondering if she could finish all the reports in time to stop by A

Margaret Maron

Born and raised in central North Carolina, Margaret Maron lived in Italy before returning to the USA where she and her husband now live. In addition to a collection of short stories she's also the author of 16 mystery novels. Her works have been translated into seven languages her Bootlegger's Daughter, a Washington Post Bestseller won Edgar Anthony, Agatha, and Macavity awards. She is a past president of Sisters in Crime and of the American Crime writers' league, and a director on the national board for Mystery Writers of America.