A Function of Murder by Ada Madison Read Free Book Online

campus
     good-bye for a while and hit the beaches or the mountains, both of which were plentiful
     along the eastern seaboard.
    The presence of homicide detective Virgil Mitchell, Bruce’s best friend since college,
     pushed that dream away. Virgil had arrived about the same time as the ambulance, patrol
     cars, and fire truck. Though I’d seen a letter opener sticking out of the mayor’s
     back, I hadn’t fully processed the idea that someone had deliberately stabbed him
     or that he might not survive the attack. Even now I held on to the possibility that
     he’d fallen on the letter opener, never mind the shaky physics involved, or that a
     party game had gone bad. Virgil would figure it all out and declare it anaccident; the mayor would end up good as new after a brief recovery period; and we
     could all go back to normal.
    Someone in uniform thought it was a good idea for Bruce to ride in the ambulance,
     so off they went, leaving me with my imagination. I was free to run rampant over the
     idea that a city official who might be dead might have said my name as one of his
     last words, and might have been trying to ask me something. Or tell me something.
     Or…
    I needed to calm down, to do a statistical analysis of the theories. I chose one of
     Bruce’s several interpretations, the least worrisome, as the most likely: I happened
     to be the person the mayor saw as he stumbled toward the fountain looking for help.
     It made sense—Bruce was wearing a black polo shirt; I was wearing a white sweater.
     I knew enough physics to do a little riff on the pattern of reflection from the lamp
     near the fountain.
    When Virgil approached, I collapsed for a moment on his hulking chest. Virgil was
     large in size and in heart, and this wasn’t the first time his presence had provided
     comfort. Just seeing someone who was like family, who’d shared many a meal in my home,
     brought a measure of relief. He gave me a brief hug and walked me away from the scene
     (why hadn’t I thought of that?), toward the back of the looming redbrick Administration
     Building.
    We sat on a bench looking away from the fountain. My mind wandered to irrelevant details
     like whether I should call Ariana, who was combining bead shop business with a vacation
     in San Diego, and how convenient that a hazmat team had arrived to rid the water of
     the mayor’s blood.
    “Tough night, huh?” Virgil said.
    “Is he going to be all right?” I asked.
    He handed me Bruce’s car keys. “Bruce said your car isn’t here, so you’ll need these.
     He’ll get a ride to your house a little later.”
    “I thought he was just drunk—the mayor, I mean—but the wound…” I closed my eyes as
     if the image of bloodspurting everywhere was in front of me and not in my head. “Did someone do that to
     him?”
    Nice going, Sophie.
It’s a good thing it was Virgil and he was used to hearing dumb things escape my
     lips.
    “You were here at graduation, when the mayor gave his speech?” Virgil asked. He bent
     over, leaning his forearms on his wide thighs, bringing himself down to my level.
    It would have been hard to find two more physically different men than Bruce and Virgil,
     except that they both had widow’s peaks of dark hair. There was my fitness freak,
     ice-climbing boyfriend on the one hand, and his somewhat lumbering, oversize buddy
     on the other. But in temperament the men were so much alike, both able to respond
     to crises with professionalism and compassion.
    Thanks to his bent-over posture on the bench, I was able to meet Virgil’s eyes. “It
     was a beautiful night. All the graduation craziness was over. Bruce and I got ice
     cream and thought we’d stroll around for a while.” I felt my throat choke up. “I’m
     sorry to be such a flake right now.”
    “Take your time, Sophie.” Virgil gave me a minute. “You heard the mayor’s speech?”
    I finally became aware that I hadn’t answered Virgil’s question. “Yes, pretty