Excerpt:

            A receptionist checked off his name and escorted him to a door marked “Chief of Police.”

            Inside, a slim man, fiftyish, with a wiry frame and weathered skin, stood up behind his desk.   A smile crinkled the corners of his mouth but his intensely blue eyes were watchful as he reached for Paul’s hand.  “Welcome Professor Godwin.  I’m Herbert Hubbard.  Please sit down.”

            Paul sat on the wooden seat of a straight-backed chair and noted that the office was furnished with the usual Maine frugality.  Few comforts.  No frills.

            “Officer Bernier is here,” Hubbard said, nodding toward a uniformed man sitting at a desk against the wall, “to tape our conversation.  I should have interviewed you yesterday afternoon, but Janet--Miss Tryon-- forgot to tell me that you entered Mr. Todd’s office with her and actually discovered the body at the same moment she did.”  
He shook his head as if grieved at such a lapse.

            Paul spoke in her defense.  “Miss Tryon invited me to go into the office with her, I think because she was afraid the dean would disapprove of her tampering with his papers.  She seemed to want a witness.  And I was there because I had an appointment to see Dean Todd at eight-thirty.”

            “You’re a material witness.  Will you please tell me everything you remember about your visit to the dean’s office yesterday morning?”

            Paul was able to comply almost without thinking.  The scene had registered itself on his brain.  But when Hubbard began asking about specific details, Paul realized how much had slipped by his inattentive eyes.  He remembered an untidy scattering of papers on the dean’s desk, but not an accordion file envelope containing folders.  He wasn’t sure whether more than one desk drawer was open.  He couldn’t say whether the sheet of plastic that covered the newly cut opening between the dean’s office and the faculty conference room was tacked closed.  He hadn’t seen anything that looked like a murder weapon.

            Hubbard’s frown deepened.  Paul tried to defend himself..  “It was awfully dark in there.  We never did get the curtains drawn.  Finding him dead like that—I  just wanted to leave things untouched and get police there as soon as possible.”

            “Thank you for that.  Just a few more questions, Professor.  Routine, but you have a right not to answer.  Where did you spend the evening and early nighttime hours of Monday?”

            Paul chuckled at the warning, but took the question seriously.  “At home.  I didn’t go out all day because of a sore ankle.”

            “Were you alone?”

            “My wife was home from five-thirty on.  We were together all evening.” 

            “Please excuse the personal nature of this question.  You slept together in the same bed?”

            With a tingling of fear, Paul realized that Hubbard considered him a suspect.   Perhaps he should have refused to be questioned without a lawyer at his elbow.  He spoke more slowly.  “No.  Since I sprained my ankle Sunday, I’ve been sleeping on the couch in the study so that I wouldn’t have to climb the stairs.”

            “One more question.  What was the purpose of your appointment with the dean at eight-thirty Tuesday morning?”

            Paul felt his face flush.  “Todd asked me to come in for an interview.”

            “And the purpose?”

            “I don’t really know.  He mentioned it at his faculty reception Sunday afternoon. It was very informal.” 
Hubbard studied him for a moment, then turned to the officer with a nod of dismissal. “Please have that transcribed for signature.” 

            Paul expected his own dismissal, but instead Hubbard sat quietly and stared at his desk blotter for a minute before he looked up and fixed those remarkably blue eyes on Paul. “You were on good terms with Blakesly Todd?”

            Paul was cautious.  “Good business terms, I think.  Not cordial.  He wasn’t the sort I’d choose for a friend.”

            “You had no reason, then, to dislike him or feel threatened by him?”

            The hair at the base of Paul’s scalp rose.  Only yesterday morning, he had headed for Todd’s office in a rage—evidence that could be used against him.   He decided to trust Hubbard and tell the truth.  “Just since Sunday evening.  He accused me of having an affair with a student and even hinted to my wife that I’d done something disreputable.”

            “That’s why he wanted to see you in his office?”

            “He demanded it, but I certainly wanted to find out what he was talking about.  Even if such an affair weren’t banned by college rules and my own ethical code, it’s out of the question in my present state of health.”

            Hubbard reached under his note pad, pulled out several photographs, and shoved them toward Paul.  “Have you ever seen these pictures?”

            Paul picked up the three glossy black and white prints and saw himself and a long-haired blonde woman in various poses suggestive of sexual intimacy, although they both were clothed.  “How in hell—“  He stared, incredulous, at the pictures. “No.  It’s a damnable invention.”