The Perfect Coed (Oak Grove Mysteries Book 1) by Judy Alter Read Free Book Online

am I. Wonder what Jake will think if he reads this?”
    “That you haven’t been honest with him,” Ellen supplied helpfully.
    “Great,” Susan said. “He’s not alone. That police officer, Jordan, and Scott both think I’m not being honest about this coed’s body in my car. Why would I be dishonest? What do I have to hide?” She shifted her attention back to the newspaper. “A dead roommate, apparently. Jordan will be calling about it.”
    The story also said that the police had interviewed her at length about Missy Jackson’s death and announced that she was not at this point a suspect.
    “At this point!” she exploded. “That’s what they say about everyone they’re sure is guilty as sin! Ellen, I… do I need a lawyer?”
    Ellen shook her head. “I don’t think so. That might make you look really nervous. But ask Jake what he thinks.”
    Susan found it hard, to say the least, to concentrate on preparing for her classes that day. She went to lunch at the faculty center, an add-on to the old liberal arts building. The room was cheerful enough with windows on two sides and tables for four or eight. Since it was in Baker Hall, the science and math people didn’t use it much, probably eating at the fast-food joints on Main. But the liberal arts people tended to sit by departments at the larger tables. Susan went through the buffet line and then noticed several of her colleagues at one of the large table, so she joined them. One by one they melted away as she settled herself, some with a nod in her direction and “Got to go” and others without a word. Faculty from other departments stared openly. Depressed by the lack of support from her colleagues, she was about to take her lunch back to her office when Ellen appeared.
    “Sit right there,” she ordered.
    “Can’t. I feel like an exhibit at the zoo.”
    “If you leave, they’ll talk about you.”
    “They’ll do that anyway. Are you going to eat with me?”
    “Sure.” Ellen went to the buffet table and returned shortly with a plate piled high with salad makings.
    Susan looked ruefully at her own plate of lasagna, which now tasted like sawdust. “I’m not hungry,” she said, pushing the plate away.
    Ellen calmly poured low-cal ranch dressing on her salad. “Susan, you’ve got to act normal or people will really think you know something you don’t—or did something you didn’t.”
    “If you’d written that sentence in a paper, I’d have given you an F,” Susan said.
    Ellen smiled. “That’s more like it. Get your spirit back.”
    “How can I get my spirit back when someone’s trying to kill me?”
    Ellen shook her head, as though to make the very idea go away. “I can’t believe anyone would try to kill you. Surely, they were just trying to scare you.”
    Susan thought that Ellen couldn’t believe it because she didn’t want to. Denial is always safer.
    “Maybe you need to separate the murder from the fact that it was your car. We are all devastated about this girl’s death, and rightly so. But her death is one thing, and the part about her being in your car is something else. An accident. Nothing to do with you.”
    “Then why did that car take out after me? Besides, you’re the only one who thinks her being in my car has nothing to do with me,” Susan said bitterly. “And,” she went on, “I’m the only one who doesn’t think Missy Jackson was the perfect coed. I think, thought last semester, that she couldn’t decide if she wanted to be the perfect coed or a rebelling young feminist. And she didn’t know any middle ground.”
    * * *
    Lt. Jordan called in the early afternoon. “Ah, I understand you’ve had an accident.”
    Susan wanted to tell him to quit pussyfooting around and get to the point. “Right. I’m a little stiff and sore.”
    He did get right to the point. “I need to talk to you about that… and about your college roommate. But I don’t want to ask you to come downtown, feeling as you do.