Dead Politician Society by Robin Spano

private sector you have to justify your wages or you get fired. In Libby’s case, she thought that getting the job was where the work came in, and that once she was in, she had only to share her half-formed opinions while smiling for the camera.
    For reasons we cannot fathom, the public kept voting for Leighton time and again. Today, we have saved taxpayers the expense of a smug and useless tax drain. We have also moved one step closer toward the political utopia our professor — our leader — demands.
    You’re welcome.
    This has been a message from the Society for Political Utopia.
    Clare set down the page, and looked back and forth between the two detectives.
    Morton spoke Clare’s thoughts. “We think the killer is in this department, either as one of the students, or a professor.
    Clare nodded. “By professor, do you mean Dr. Easton?”
    â€œNot necessarily. It could be someone who wants him gone.”
    Kumar showed Clare a business card protected by a plastic evidence bag.
    â€œ
spu
.”
Clare flipped the card over.
“Your death will be your greatest public service.
What’s this?”
    â€œWe’ve been showing it to the students, trying to gauge their reactions.”
    Clare passed the card back. “Is it evidence?”
    â€œLaura Pritchard found the card in her husband’s belongings, but we’re not telling the students that.”
    â€œHer girlfriend is in my class. Susannah probably knows about it.”
    â€œWe know,” Morton said, adding one more thing Clare was pissed at Cloutier for not briefing her on. “And for whatever reason, Mrs. Pritchard hasn’t told her girlfriend that she found it.”
    Clare wasn’t so sure she believed that. But okay. “What are you telling the students, then? When you show them the card?”
    â€œWe’re saying Sam Cray found it, in Libby Leighton’s belongings.”
    â€œSmart,” Clare said. “Any strange reactions yet?”
    â€œNo. But you’re only our fourth interview. Assuming you can get that phone charged, Sergeant Cloutier will brief you once we’ve had a chance to consider everyone’s statements.”
    Yeah right. Cloutier would hold something back, like he had when he’d briefed her in the first place. It was like he had something against Clare succeeding.
    â€œIt was good work — or inadvertent good luck — that you overheard that conversation yesterday.”
    So Cloutier
had
deemed it important enough to pass on. At least she was getting kudos — or inadvertent congratulations — for something.
    â€œI got the sense that Dr. Easton was holding back,” Clare said. “Maybe not lying to Brian directly, but he was cagy. And he kept looking back at me. Though I don’t think he noticed me noticing.”
    â€œRight. Sergeant Cloutier said all that. We agree with Brian, by the way. We think Matthew Easton is the society’s founder.”
    â€œDoes Cloutier know that?” Clare felt her blood approach its boiling temperature. She was determined not to let it come to the surface.
    â€œOf course he knows.”
    â€œFucking jerk.” There went her determination.
    â€œAre you all right?” Morton eyed her strangely.
    â€œI’m fine.” Clare gritted her teeth.
    â€œYou were practically beating down my door for this opportunity. Don’t make me think I made a mistake giving it to you.”
    â€œI’m sorry.” Clare slumped in her chair. She felt disoriented. She needed sleep. “You’re right. I’m sure Sergeant Cloutier either told me or he meant to.”
    â€œFine,” Morton said.
    Clare straightened her posture. She had to show them she was serious. “So should my main focus, as well as gathering information, be to penetrate the society?”
    â€œIf you can. Although if Brian Haas has been trying to get in for years, it may not be as easy as you