Killer Takes All by Erica Spindler Read Free Book Online Page A

feet. “Drop the gaming angle. It’s a dead end.”

    She found it odd that one of Cassie’s supposedly good friends seemed more concerned about gaming’s reputation than catching her friend’s killer. Stacy met the other woman’s gaze directly. “It may be. But Cassie’s dead. And I’m not dropping anything until we know who killed her.”

    Ella’s defiance seemed to melt. She sank to her chair, expression defeated.

    Stacy gazed at her a moment, then turned to go. Magda stopped her. Stacy looked back.

    “Don’t leave it up to the police, okay? We’ll help you in any way we can. We loved her.”

CHAPTER
8

    Tuesday, March 1, 2005
10:30 a.m.

    B eing a university that catered to commuters, UNO had only three residence facilities, and one of those exclusively housed students with families. Since Bobby Gautreaux hailed from Monroe, Stacy figured he lived in one of the residences for single students, either Bienville Hall or Privateer Place.

    She also figured she’d get nowhere in an attempt to wheedle an address out of the registrar’s office, but she might do some good at the engineering department.

    She quickly formulated a plan and assembled the pieces she needed to carry it out, then made her way to the engineering building, located on the opposite side of the campus from the UC.

    Every department had its own secretary. That person knew her department inside and out, and was familiar with every student major, knew each faculty member, complete with their peculiarities. They also tended, within their respective domains, to be more powerful than God.

    Stacy had also learned that if they liked you, they would move heaven and earth to help you solve a problem. But if they didn’t, if you crossed them, you were screwed.

    The woman in charge of the engineering department fiefdom, Stacy saw, had a face as round as the moon and a big broad smile.

    One of the motherly ones. Good.

    “Hi,” she smiled, and crossed to the woman’s desk. “I’m Stacy Killian, a grad student from the English department.”

    The woman returned her smile. “How can I help you?”

    “I’m looking for Bobby Gautreaux.”

    The woman frowned slightly. “I haven’t seen Bobby today.”

    “He doesn’t have an engineering class on Tuesdays?”

    “I believe he does. Let me check.” She swung toward her computer terminal, accessed the student records, then typed in Bobby’s name.

    “Let’s see. He did have a class earlier, though I didn’t see him. Maybe I can help you?”

    “I’m a family friend from Monroe. I was there this past weekend, visiting my folks. Bobby’s mom asked if I would bring this to him.” She held up the card she’d just purchased at the bookstore, now marked “Bobby” on the envelope.

    The woman smiled and held out a hand. “I’ll be happy to give it to him.”

    Stacy held back. “I promised I’d give it directly to him. She was pretty insistent about that. He lives in Bienville Hall, doesn’t he?”

    Stacy saw a wariness creep into the secretary’s expression. “I’m sure I don’t know.”

    “Could you check?” Stacy leaned closer, lowering her voice. “There’s money in it. A hundred dollars. If I leave it and something happens…I’d never forgive myself.”

    The woman pursed her lips. “I certainly can’t take the responsibility for cash.”

    “That’s just the way I feel,” Stacy agreed. “The sooner I hand it to Bobby, the better.”

    The woman hesitated a moment more, gazing at her, seeming to size her up. After a moment, she nodded. “Let’s see if I have that information.”

    She returned her attention to the computer screen, tapped in some information, then turned back to Stacy. “It is Bienville Hall. Room 210.”

    “Room 210,” Stacy repeated, smiling. “Thanks. You’ve been a lot of help.”

    Bienville Hall, a graceless but utilitarian high-rise dormitory built in 1969, was located directly across the commons from the engineering