tenure.”
“Any recent or unusual conflicts that you know of?”
I shook my head. “Xavier Mooney was an experimentalist and Gabriel Rojas is a theoreticist. On occasion they liked to engage in a friendly bet about whether a detail in history would turn out to be true, with Dr. Rojas trying to reason it out and Dr. Mooney insisting that History’s particulars were rarely predictable, even if you knew their outcome. Then one of them—usually Dr. Mooney—would go back and obtain photographic or video evidence. The results were about fifty-fifty either way.” I paused. “Xavier Mooney would have had a part in deciding whether the department should offer tenure to our two junior professors, Dr. Baumgartner and Dr. Little.”
“Was he going to come down on their side?”
“Too early to say. Junior professors are initially appointed to two-year contracts and an evaluation is done every two years until the tenure review in the eighth year. Dr. Little has been here just over nine months. Dr. Baumgartner’s first evaluation is coming up in the spring.” To obtain tenure, a young professor had to have it all—an excellent research and publication track, positive teaching and peer evaluations, successful supervision of grad students, and a glowing recommendation from Dean Sunder. Chancellor Evans had the final say. I added, “I suppose we could check Dr. Mooney’s notebooks and computer for any notes he may have jotted down on the matter. The movers havepacked up his office, so we’ll have to pull his things out of storage. Or you could talk to Dr. Rojas about it.”
“Speaking of Gabriel Rojas, can he be trusted? I have to take what he’s saying about STEWie’s software being tampered with at face value.”
“I can’t think of a reason why he would have felt the need to get rid of Dr. Mooney—and then tell us about it.”
“I can’t either. But that means nothing.”
“I suppose not.”
“At this stage everyone who had the door code is a suspect.”
“Including me?”
“Do you have the code to the TTE lab?”
“Copies of all the security codes are made available to the dean’s office in case of emergencies.”
“Would you have had the time-engineering knowledge to reprogram STEWie and make it seem like the focuser had malfunctioned?”
“Would I have—no.”
“Then you’re not a suspect.”
I almost asked him if that meant he could call me Julia now that I had been cleared of any involvement in Dr. Mooney’s death, but, brow furrowed darkly, he steered the conversation back to his original question. “What about jilted lovers or inheritors of his estate?”
“Xavier did go through a rather acrimonious divorce with one of our linguistics professors, Dr. Helen Presnik. But that was years ago, before my time here in the dean’s office. And,” I finished, “Xavier left all his worldly goods to the school. What’s number five?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Earlier you were about to tell me about murder motive number five—”
“Ah, yes. The incidental murder. The professor may have gotten in someone’s way at the TTE lab, someone who was bent on going on an unauthorized run. Speaking of which, Ms. Olsen—” He cleared his throat and looked straight at me. “Remember what we now know—in one of the science departments, probably the Time Travel Engineering lab itself, there is a person who presents a danger to others.”
Was that a not-so-subtle warning for me to stay out of his investigation? It was all very well for him to say so, but he didn’t have researchers deluging him with messages asking—demanding—that STEWie be brought back online as soon as possible. Not to mention the fact that the dean had asked me to accompany the chief throughout his investigation.
“You say Dr. Mooney was married to a professor?” the chief added. “Is she still here at St. Sunniva?”
“Yes, Dr. Presnik works in the English Department.”
“I’ll speak to her first thing
“Any recent or unusual conflicts that you know of?”
I shook my head. “Xavier Mooney was an experimentalist and Gabriel Rojas is a theoreticist. On occasion they liked to engage in a friendly bet about whether a detail in history would turn out to be true, with Dr. Rojas trying to reason it out and Dr. Mooney insisting that History’s particulars were rarely predictable, even if you knew their outcome. Then one of them—usually Dr. Mooney—would go back and obtain photographic or video evidence. The results were about fifty-fifty either way.” I paused. “Xavier Mooney would have had a part in deciding whether the department should offer tenure to our two junior professors, Dr. Baumgartner and Dr. Little.”
“Was he going to come down on their side?”
“Too early to say. Junior professors are initially appointed to two-year contracts and an evaluation is done every two years until the tenure review in the eighth year. Dr. Little has been here just over nine months. Dr. Baumgartner’s first evaluation is coming up in the spring.” To obtain tenure, a young professor had to have it all—an excellent research and publication track, positive teaching and peer evaluations, successful supervision of grad students, and a glowing recommendation from Dean Sunder. Chancellor Evans had the final say. I added, “I suppose we could check Dr. Mooney’s notebooks and computer for any notes he may have jotted down on the matter. The movers havepacked up his office, so we’ll have to pull his things out of storage. Or you could talk to Dr. Rojas about it.”
“Speaking of Gabriel Rojas, can he be trusted? I have to take what he’s saying about STEWie’s software being tampered with at face value.”
“I can’t think of a reason why he would have felt the need to get rid of Dr. Mooney—and then tell us about it.”
“I can’t either. But that means nothing.”
“I suppose not.”
“At this stage everyone who had the door code is a suspect.”
“Including me?”
“Do you have the code to the TTE lab?”
“Copies of all the security codes are made available to the dean’s office in case of emergencies.”
“Would you have had the time-engineering knowledge to reprogram STEWie and make it seem like the focuser had malfunctioned?”
“Would I have—no.”
“Then you’re not a suspect.”
I almost asked him if that meant he could call me Julia now that I had been cleared of any involvement in Dr. Mooney’s death, but, brow furrowed darkly, he steered the conversation back to his original question. “What about jilted lovers or inheritors of his estate?”
“Xavier did go through a rather acrimonious divorce with one of our linguistics professors, Dr. Helen Presnik. But that was years ago, before my time here in the dean’s office. And,” I finished, “Xavier left all his worldly goods to the school. What’s number five?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Earlier you were about to tell me about murder motive number five—”
“Ah, yes. The incidental murder. The professor may have gotten in someone’s way at the TTE lab, someone who was bent on going on an unauthorized run. Speaking of which, Ms. Olsen—” He cleared his throat and looked straight at me. “Remember what we now know—in one of the science departments, probably the Time Travel Engineering lab itself, there is a person who presents a danger to others.”
Was that a not-so-subtle warning for me to stay out of his investigation? It was all very well for him to say so, but he didn’t have researchers deluging him with messages asking—demanding—that STEWie be brought back online as soon as possible. Not to mention the fact that the dean had asked me to accompany the chief throughout his investigation.
“You say Dr. Mooney was married to a professor?” the chief added. “Is she still here at St. Sunniva?”
“Yes, Dr. Presnik works in the English Department.”
“I’ll speak to her first thing
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