enough?"
"Okay. But what if he was stealing things?" "Easy. You complain to his supervisor. You don't try to kill him to stop him."
"Maybe in self-defense, if the janitor was fired
and tried to attack the person responsible for it."
"Maybe," Jane said, pickin up the television
remote and turning on Home and Garden TV. "I
like my own theory best. But it doesn't matter. It's
Mel's problem, not ours. Oh, this is my favorite
show.
Designing for the Sexes.
I like that Michael guy. And you can always tell whose side he's taking. See? He's explaining, ever so nicely, why the man is wrong this time. But he'll be sure to provide one thing the husband really, really wants in order to pacify him."
Mel called around nine that evening. "The janitor has been in surgery almost all day, having pieces of bone picked out of his brain. There's a slim chance he may survive."
"Will he remember what happened?"
"Probably not. He may not really know anyway. The blow was to the back of his head. Most head injuries, I'm told, cause temporary or permanent amnesia. That's all I know now. I'm interviewing his supervisor in the morning about the janitor's normal schedule."
"You have thought about blackmail, haven't you?"
There was a long silence before Mel said curtly, "Of course I have."
"Sorry to ask. I presumed you had," she said cheerfully. "And don't forget, you owe me a really good dinner."
Thirteen
Early Monday,
Mel
had finally run down the woman in charge of the cleaning staff for the college. She was a surprisingly young Hispanic woman named Rose Havana. She had her dark hair in a neat bun and was dressed in a flattering blue suit.
"Ms. Havana, I presume that you know that one of your janitors, Sven Turner, has been seriously injured," Mel said.
"Yes, I know. I'm sorry about it. He's a good worker. Is he expected to live?"
"He might. The doctors aren't committing themselves yet. He's gone through a long operation and is still unconscious. His vital signs are improving slightly. That's all I know. Could you tell me about him?"
"Please take a seat. My coffee is ready. Would you like a cup?"
Mel nodded.
When she'd poured them both a steaming cup, she sat down behind her desk and said, "I don'tknow him well. I don't think many people do. I know he's good at his job. I frequently follow my staff members on their rounds to check that they're doing what they're supposed to. He is — or was — one of the most efficient."
"How long had he been employed by the college?"
She went to a file cabinet and brought back a folder. "He's been here for almost twenty years."
"Is there anything personal you could tell me about him? Family? Background?"
"Not really. He was probably the quietest person on my staff. That's why he liked being on the night shift. He didn't have to converse with much of anyone. He was very shy. If somebody on his rounds was working late, he'd call in to alert me that he was shifting the order of cleaning. Most of his work was here at the college. He only recently took on the job at the theater. I'm probably the only person he felt comfortable talking to."
"Did he call in at any time about the theater?"
"Yes, he did. A couple of days ago, he said he was at the theater. He'd let himself in and heard two men talking, so he was going back to the college and would do the theater cleanup early the next morning."
"Do you remember what night that was?"
"I'm sorry. I don't exactly recall. Maybe last Tuesday or Wednesday. I don't keep records of things like that. Unless I know someone didn't
show up to do their work, and the department that was neglected reports it."
She went on, "I guess the only other thing I know about him is that he always liked to get everything cleaned up early on Friday. He once told me he liked spending most of his weekends driving around in his car and visiting small towns."
Mel already knew that Sven Turner was forty-seven years old, and where he lived. The janitor
"Okay. But what if he was stealing things?" "Easy. You complain to his supervisor. You don't try to kill him to stop him."
"Maybe in self-defense, if the janitor was fired
and tried to attack the person responsible for it."
"Maybe," Jane said, pickin up the television
remote and turning on Home and Garden TV. "I
like my own theory best. But it doesn't matter. It's
Mel's problem, not ours. Oh, this is my favorite
show.
Designing for the Sexes.
I like that Michael guy. And you can always tell whose side he's taking. See? He's explaining, ever so nicely, why the man is wrong this time. But he'll be sure to provide one thing the husband really, really wants in order to pacify him."
Mel called around nine that evening. "The janitor has been in surgery almost all day, having pieces of bone picked out of his brain. There's a slim chance he may survive."
"Will he remember what happened?"
"Probably not. He may not really know anyway. The blow was to the back of his head. Most head injuries, I'm told, cause temporary or permanent amnesia. That's all I know now. I'm interviewing his supervisor in the morning about the janitor's normal schedule."
"You have thought about blackmail, haven't you?"
There was a long silence before Mel said curtly, "Of course I have."
"Sorry to ask. I presumed you had," she said cheerfully. "And don't forget, you owe me a really good dinner."
Thirteen
Early Monday,
Mel
had finally run down the woman in charge of the cleaning staff for the college. She was a surprisingly young Hispanic woman named Rose Havana. She had her dark hair in a neat bun and was dressed in a flattering blue suit.
"Ms. Havana, I presume that you know that one of your janitors, Sven Turner, has been seriously injured," Mel said.
"Yes, I know. I'm sorry about it. He's a good worker. Is he expected to live?"
"He might. The doctors aren't committing themselves yet. He's gone through a long operation and is still unconscious. His vital signs are improving slightly. That's all I know. Could you tell me about him?"
"Please take a seat. My coffee is ready. Would you like a cup?"
Mel nodded.
When she'd poured them both a steaming cup, she sat down behind her desk and said, "I don'tknow him well. I don't think many people do. I know he's good at his job. I frequently follow my staff members on their rounds to check that they're doing what they're supposed to. He is — or was — one of the most efficient."
"How long had he been employed by the college?"
She went to a file cabinet and brought back a folder. "He's been here for almost twenty years."
"Is there anything personal you could tell me about him? Family? Background?"
"Not really. He was probably the quietest person on my staff. That's why he liked being on the night shift. He didn't have to converse with much of anyone. He was very shy. If somebody on his rounds was working late, he'd call in to alert me that he was shifting the order of cleaning. Most of his work was here at the college. He only recently took on the job at the theater. I'm probably the only person he felt comfortable talking to."
"Did he call in at any time about the theater?"
"Yes, he did. A couple of days ago, he said he was at the theater. He'd let himself in and heard two men talking, so he was going back to the college and would do the theater cleanup early the next morning."
"Do you remember what night that was?"
"I'm sorry. I don't exactly recall. Maybe last Tuesday or Wednesday. I don't keep records of things like that. Unless I know someone didn't
show up to do their work, and the department that was neglected reports it."
She went on, "I guess the only other thing I know about him is that he always liked to get everything cleaned up early on Friday. He once told me he liked spending most of his weekends driving around in his car and visiting small towns."
Mel already knew that Sven Turner was forty-seven years old, and where he lived. The janitor
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