Carolyn G. Hart_Henrie O_03 by Death in Lovers' Lane Page B

Dennis came on to Maggie, what if he wouldn’t let it drop, what if she threatened to bring a grievance against him? These days the University wouldn’t ignore that kind of charge.”
    Swiftly, emphatically, she shook her head. “No, you’ve got Dennis all wrong. He only went after the ones who wanted to play. He never leaned on anybody.”
    â€œHow can you know that?”
    â€œI know Dennis,” she said simply.
    â€œMaybe it was different this time.” I didn’t want to hurt Rita, but how could she be certain? And she didn’t know Maggie.
    Could I be sure I knew Maggie?
    I thought back to our last meeting: Maggie, so young and vital, good-looking, smart, quick, utterly confident.
    Not the kind of woman to provide sexual favors for professors.
    She didn’t need to.
    And also, quite frankly, not the kind of woman to tarnish her tough-gal image by whining about a crude-mouthed city editor.
    Maggie wouldn’t see that kind of confrontation as a plus in getting a job. The news business is still run, for the most part, by middle-aged white men. Maggie knew that, and nobody could ever call Maggie naive.
    â€œNone of it makes sense,” I said irritably, thinking aloud. “I can’t see Maggie having an affair with Dennis. Quite frankly, she didn’t need to. And Dennis may have thought he was a coed’s delight, but to Maggie he would have just been an old man on the make. Eric March was crazy about her. She told Eric she loved him. She was a senior, a top senior. Dennis couldn’t have done anything, good or bad, that could have made a difference to her status on The Clarion . And to give him credit, I don’t think he ever tried to sabotage a girl if she said no.”
    I suppose all along, ever since Rita had burst into the newsroom Wednesday night, I’d felt that the equation didn’t compute. Dennis and Maggie?
    Dennis had denied it, fervently.
    But Dennis had admitted having an occasional drink with Maggie.
    â€œDid Dennis use your car sometimes?” I asked Rita abruptly.
    It was a question out of left field, but she was too upset to notice or wonder.
    She nodded incuriously.
    â€œBut he had his car Wednesday night?”
    Again, that indifferent nod.
    Having a drink with a student and sleeping with one were two different matters. I doubted if it could ever be proved one way or the other.
    Dennis denied an affair.
    But Dennis would have to deny it, either to protect Rita or himself. Certainly he’d lie if he’d killed Maggie because she rejected him.
    â€œRita, what made you think Dennis was out with Maggie Wednesday night? Did you find a note, overhear—”
    â€œThe phone call. It was the phone call.”
    Now, finally, something concrete.
    â€œDid you hear Dennis talking to Maggie?” I wanted to know if Rita had heard just his side of the conversation or if she’d picked up an extension. It could make a huge difference.
    â€œOh, no, no. Not Dennis.” Those faded blue eyes stared past me. “I was looking at my scrapbooks. We went to Disneyland that last May. Carla loved it. There’s a picture of her with Mickey…Then the phone rang. I almost didn’t answer. But I thought it might be Dennis.” She looked at me with bleak, misery-laden eyes. “I was holding the scrapbook and there was Carla laughing and so happy and I picked up the phone and this voice began to whisper, this breathy ugly whisper, and it said Dennis was going to fuck this girl and if I hurried I’d catch them. It said they were at her apartment or maybe in his office. Then the line went dead. It was hideous.”
    â€œDid you recognize the voice?”
    She looked forbearing at my stupidity. She spoke very, very clearly. “It was a whisper. That’s all. Just a whisper.”
    â€œA man? A woman?”
    â€œI don’t know.” She gave an impatient shrug.
    â€œThe voice specifically mentioned