Fiddlers by Ed McBain Page B

father,� Marcia said.
    �Miss,� Kling said, �let�s make this easy, okay?�
    She turned to look at him. Maybe it was the hazel eyes. Maybe it was the calm in his voice. Maybe she was a racist who preferred dealing with Mr. Blond WASP here. Whatever it was, she nodded briefly and led them outside.
    * * * *
    They sat in golden sunshine on a bench outside Coswell Hall. Marcia on the right, Kling in the middle, Brown on the far left, both detectives turned to face her. Marcia sat with her legs crossed, books sitting on the path beside the bench, addressing herself entirely to Kling, telling her story to Kling alone. Sitting there, Brown could have been made of stone the color of his name.
    �The issue seemed to be attendance,� she said.
    �Seemed to be?� Brown said.
    She ignored him.
    �Professor Langston said I�d cut too many classes. She said I couldn�t possibly have a grasp of the subject matter if I never attended any lectures. Have you ever been to one of her lectures?� she asked Kling. �Bore-ing,� she said, and patted her mouth in a simulated yawn. �The subject matter in question - actually, I�d only missed one or two classes - happened to be Wordsworth. Section II was all Wordsworth. I argued that Wordsworth was perhaps the most tedious poet in the entire nineteenth century. Have you ever read Tintern Abbey? Or My Heart Leaps Up? Or even Intimations of Immortality, which is supposed to be a masterpiece?�
    Brown hadn�t read any of them.
    Besides, she was addressing Kling.
    �Are you familiar with any of these?� she asked him.
    �I�m sorry, no.�
    �Well, take my word for it,� she said. �In any case, I read all the assigned poems at home and felt well-acquainted with all of them. I saw no need to attend all of the scheduled lectures
    �How many lectures were there altogether?� Brown asked.
    �A semester is fourteen weeks long,� she told Kling. �She spent two weeks on introduction and orientation, two weeks each on Shelley, Byron, and Keats, that was Section I. Section II was a full six weeks of Wordsworth, because she felt he was so damn important, don�t you know?�
    �How many of those six weeks did you miss?� Brown asked.
    She looked past Kling.
    Fastened an eye lock on Brown.
    �I told you. One or two classes.�
    �Which was it? One or two?�
    �Maybe three altogether. And maybe I was late for one class.�
    �So you missed at least half of them?�
    �Yes.�
    �Cut half of your classes.�
    �Well� yes.�
    �And this was why Professor Langston threatened to fail you?�
    �I knew the work. I told you, I did it at home.� She cut off the conversation with Brown, looked directly into Kling�s eyes. �Am I going to need my father here?� she asked.
    �No, I don�t think so,� Kling said gently. �So what happened? After she said she was going to flunk you.�
    �I went to see Professor Knowles.�
    �And?�
    �He said he�d talk to her.�
    �And did he?�
    �Yes. I�m a straight-A student here. I�ve never had a grade below B in all my life!� She turned slightly, so that her knees were just touching Kling�s. �Can you imagine what an F would have done to my average?� she asked, blue eyes wide.
    Kling moved his own knees away.
    Marcia tugged at her skirt, as if she�d been molested.
    �So what happened after Knowles spoke to her?� he asked.
    �Well, she just remained adamant. She told him the syllabus called for grading to be based on attendance, participation, and final exam. She told him it was outrageous to ask that she pass a student who�d cut half of her precious lectures. Even though I�d mastered the material at home, mind you��
    �I think it was outrageous,� Brown said.
    �Yes, well no one asked your opinion, did we?� Marcia snapped.
    �Maybe you ought to call your father,� Brown suggested.
    Kling recognized him falling into a Good Cop/Bad Cop routine. He didn�t think that was necessary here. Not