A Wee Dose of Death by Fran Stewart

quiet mouse.
    So there were five of us for lunch. Well, four of us. Dirk didn’t count because he couldn’t eat anything.
    Once I had a steaming bowl of potato leek soup in frontof me, I felt a little more sociable. PD, across the table from me, looked up from his clam chowder. “So, do you have any idea what Dr. Wantstring’s been working on?”
    I shook my head, but Karaline paused, her spoon halfway to her mouth. “Uh, no. No, not really.”
    He studied her for a moment. “That sounds like a yes to me. I’d be willing to bet you really do know something.” He slurped a spoonful. “Ah, that hits the spot. So, what’s he up to? What’s he doing?”
    Dirk strode around from between Karaline and me to loom over PD. “Whatever ’tis, ye shouldna tell him aught, Mistress Karaline.” Dirk’s hand hovered at his belt, close enough to draw his dagger on a moment’s notice. The poor grad student didn’t know what he might be in for if he didn’t watch his step.
    Karaline had just taken a mouthful of the thickest vegetable beef soup I’d ever seen, so I went to her rescue. “Why do you want to know?”
    â€œNo particular reason. It’s just that he’s been hiding things lately.”
    Karaline swallowed. “You mean squirreling stuff? Does he still do that?”
    â€œYeah, all the time, but that’s not what I meant.”
    â€œWhat did you mean?”
    â€œWell”—he stirred his chowder around—“you know how he’s always so open about using his own projects to teach us?
You
wouldn’t know, but”—he transferred his gaze to Karaline—“
you
would.”
    Karaline nodded.
    â€œThe last few months, ever since Dr. H died, he’s been almost—what would you say, Stripe? Secretive? Is that the right word?” Stripe, intent on her bowl of tomato basil, paid no attention.
    Karaline held up a hand. “Dr. H is dead?”
    â€œYeah, he died a few months ago.” Undeterred, PD went on. “It’s like he doesn’t have time for us anymore, and then he cancels classes and takes off for a week.”
    Karaline found her voice. “This is your last year, right?”
    â€œYep.”
    â€œThen maybe he’s just expecting you to show a little more initiative. Is your thesis anywhere near done?”
    â€œWell, that’s part of the problem. After we got back from the trip last year, I tried to change the focus of my paper, but Wantstring wouldn’t let me.”
    Karaline pursed her lips.
    â€œI know, I know. He’s the prof; I’m the stupid student.”
    â€œI didn’t say that. I tried the same thing on my thesis, and he told me I had to carry through, but he let R alter his topic.”
    â€œR?”
    â€œR for Rice. I was K.”
    For Karaline
, I thought.
    â€œAnd I thought PD and Stripe were stupid names.”
    Dirk growled and Karaline punched PD’s arm, but he refused to be stopped. “You still haven’t answered my question. What’s he so tied up in knots about?”
    â€œYe shouldna tell him anything.”
    Karaline glared at Dirk. “I know.”
    PD looked confused. “I know you know. That’s why I’m asking.”
    â€œI don’t know anything for sure. It’s just that . . .”
    I kicked her under the table, but she waved me away. “It’s just that the last time I talked to him, he seemed worried about something.”
    â€œDinna say another word! I mistrust this wee gomerel.”
    â€œDo you know what it was?” PD was certainly persistent.
    â€œNo,” she said. “If I knew anything for sure, I’d offer to help him.”
    PD leaned forward over his chowder. “He sure won’t let us help.”
    â€œMaybe he wants you to focus on your own work. What you showed me was pretty impressive.”
    Dirk raised his hands, palms