Poison Ivy by Cynthia Riggs

in the news,” said Bigelow. “Has the body been identified?”
    â€œThere isn’t enough left to identify readily. The state forensics team is working on his ID as we speak.”
    â€œHis?” snapped Bigelow.
    â€œA belt buckle, size twelve shoes.”
    â€œAt least it’s not another member of BIG…” Dedie stopped. “Of IGCOC,” she finished.
    *   *   *
    The four regulars gathered on Alley’s porch after work that same afternoon. Donald Schwartz, the boat builder, was sitting next to Sarah on the bench.
    â€œWho’s the seedy character working for Mrs. Trumbull?” asked Donald.
    â€œNo idea,” said Joe. “Didn’t think she hired anyone to help her.” As usual, Joe was leaning against the post near the step where he could spit his tobacco juice off into a tuft of dried grass.
    â€œYou’re killing that grass,” said Sarah.
    â€œShouldn’t be growing there,” said Joe.
    Lincoln stood in the doorway, scratching his back on the door frame. “If it’s who I think it is, he delivers the morning papers. Picks them up from the paper boat.”
    â€œOkay, I know who he is,” said Donald. “Name’s Robert. Has a drinking problem.”
    â€œI hear they found another corpse up to the college.” Joe cut off a fresh chunk of Red Man and stuffed it into his mouth. “Number three.”
    â€œThat’s old news,” said Sarah. “Almost a week ago.”
    â€œMrs. Trumbull find the body?” asked Lincoln.
    â€œCaretaker’s mutt dug it up,” said Joe. “Must’ve thought it was a bone he buried.”
    Donald laughed.
    â€œIt’s not funny, you guys,” said Sarah. “Three dead people?”
    â€œYou heard of corpse-sniffing dogs?” said Lincoln. “Like drug-sniffing dogs at airports, only different.”
    â€œI heard they use gerbils to sniff drugs these days,” said Donald. “Less threatening.”
    â€œStop it!” said Sarah, putting her hands over her ears. “This is awful. Do they know who it is?”
    â€œWas,” said Joe. “Nothing but bones.”
    â€œThey ID’d the second corpse yet?” asked Lincoln.
    â€œYup. Another college professor. Somebody hates college professors,” said Joe.
    â€œKiller’s probably a college professor himself who didn’t get tenure,” said Donald.
    â€œWhat do you know about tenure?” said Joe.
    â€œNever did get tenure,” said Donald.
    â€œFigures,” said Joe.

 
    C HAPTER 11
    â€œI’m sure it’s not personal, Thackery,” said Victoria.
    The IGCOC group had walked to the ferry without a word of thanks to him. He was obviously still smarting from Victoria’s having attended the first part of the meeting from which he’d been excluded.
    â€œThey didn’t even have the decency to say good bye.” Thackery was standing by the cracked window, his back to Victoria, hands clasped behind him.
    â€œI suspect each of them was thinking about his own self interest,” said Victoria. “I don’t know why they bothered to come over to the Island. They could have nominated a new member on the mainland.”
    Thackery still said nothing.
    Victoria said, “They may have felt that Reverend Bob White, the new member, needed to see the campus.”
    â€œThey might have asked me to show him around,” said Thackery without turning. “Only common courtesy. It is my campus, after all. I put the whole thing together with no help from anyone.”
    â€œWhat you’ve achieved is remarkable, Thackery. No one else could have done what you have.” Victoria was seated in the chair next to Thackery’s desk, still speaking to his back. “The committee members seem to be letting some form of personal animosity get in the way of helping the college.”
    Thackery said, “After the