Murder on Lovers' Lane (Brody and Hannigan Mysteries) by Paula Graves Read Free Book Online

that.  "Thanks for the collage, by the way. It helped refresh my memory of the classroom."
    "I think we need to take note of any changes.  Anyone sitting in a different seat, and if so, who and where.  If the Lovers' Lane killer is in that classroom, something as simple as a change in seating could give him away."
    They were among the last students in the classroom, on purpose.  The seats they'd occupied Monday night had not been filled.  Apparently everyone had settled on their spots for the length of the course, which made it a lot easier for Brody to tell if anyone was missing or out of place.
    "Danielle Brubaker," Brody murmured after scanning the room twice to be certain the pretty blonde hadn't simply chosen a different seat.
    Hannigan's gaze slid to the right front table.  "Hmm."
    Dr. Flanders entered the classroom at that point, and Hannigan said nothing more for a while. 
    The lesson moved away from the more titillating subject of eroticism versus Puritanism of Monday night's session, settling instead on early American female writers.  "Both Charlotte Temple by Susanna Rowson and The Coquette by Hannah Webster Foster are examples of sentimentalism, dealing with the perils of seduction and arguing, with subtle passion, for the equality of women.  They were dismissed, to some extent, because of that sentimentalism, but their style and subject, as well as their popularity, showed a broad and growing reaction against the Calvinist gloom and doom of their time."
    Brody hid a smile, thinking about Dean Silor and his prim warning to Hannigan about her attire.  He had a feeling he knew which side of the argument ol' Doc Silor would have come down on back in the day.
    On the other hand, he found that despite the milder subject matter of Dr. Flanders' class topic, the good professor herself hadn't changed much about her demeanor.  She wore another sundress, fitted and flattering to her lithe, curvy shape.  She had to be in her mid-thirties, but she showed few signs of having lost her youthful bloom.  Her skin was tanned and perfect, her features lovely in a classic way.  And unlike Hannigan, who seemed oblivious to her own feminine attractions. Dr. Flanders was acutely aware of the effect she had on her male—and even some of her female—students.
    Brody found himself tuning out her words and paying more attention to her body language.  The artful positioning of her arms and hands to best show off the lovely swell of her breasts.  The slow, seductive grace of her body as she sat on the edge of her desk and took her own sweet time crossing her bare, well-toned legs.
    "You're a pig," Hannigan whispered in his ear.
    He looked down and found her eyes blazing up at him.  "I'm an observer," he whispered back, letting his gaze slide forward again.
    Class dismissed around eight-thirty, and almost immediately, Hannigan made her way forward, toward the empty seat that Danielle Brubaker had occupied two nights earlier.  Brody started to follow.
    "Mr. Brody?"  Dr. Flanders' low voice drew his attention away.  Turning, he found the professor seated on the edge of her desk, her legs still crossed, one foot kicking in a lazy rhythm.
    He glanced down at his partner.  She rolled her eyes and continued on toward the front table.
    Brody crossed to the desk.  "Yes, Dr. Flanders?"
    "You seemed preoccupied this evening."  She smiled at him, and in that slow curve of her lips he saw that she knew—or thought she did—just what he'd been thinking about instead of literature.
    There was something predatory about her sexuality, he thought.  Predatory enough to be dangerous?
    "I hope you'll come prepared to participate next time," she said, each word oozing with sexual meaning.
    "I'll do my best," he said, smiling back at her, even though he didn't find her nearly as attractive now as before.  The vibes she gave off were downright creepy.
    He turned to find his partner talking to a girl at the front table.  He walked up