The Principal Cause of Death by Mark Richard Zubro

entered the room. She pressed several keys and one of the figures on the chess board on the screen moved. She looked up. No one else was in the room.
    I sat on the desk next to the computer.
    â€œWhat?” she asked.
    â€œFiona, someone saw you in the east hallway the night of the murder.”
    Her gray eyes stared fiercely at me. “Who’s the liar?” she demanded.
    â€œI don’t want to reveal my source.”
    â€œIf it was really a source, and not something you made up, you’d go to the police with it to clear your own name.”

    â€œDo you want me to go to the police with the information?” I asked. I met her gaze levelly.
    â€œWhy were you there?” I asked.
    She drummed her fingers on the computer keyboard. The machine beeped at her several times as she inadvertently ordered chess pieces where they couldn’t go. She pressed several keys and then returned to staring at me.
    â€œI’m not telling you anything,” she said.
    Feeling less than proud of myself I said, “I hear you manage to make a lot of the men on the faculty feel good.”
    â€œWhat of it?” she demanded. “It’s the nineties. No one cares. So take your threat and shove it.”
    â€œYou were there,” I stated.
    She banged her hand on the computer console. She spoke through clenched teeth. “Look, if I thought it would really help you, I’d tell.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, if you thought it would really help me? That’s one of the stupidest things I’ve ever heard anybody say. What were you doing there?”
    â€œI won’t sit here and be insulted.”
    I said, “It’s time to tell this to the police.”
    I marched to the door. Before I could slam it, she called out, “No, wait.”
    I halted with my hand on the door knob.
    â€œI … please come back,” she said. “I don’t want trouble with the police. I’ll tell you.”
    I reseated myself on the desk.
    She turned off the computer, fiddled with the discs for a minute, gave me a grim smile. “I … This is embarrassing,” she said. “It’s … You can’t tell the police. I didn’t do anything illegal, and I certainly didn’t kill him.”
    â€œWhy were you there?” I asked.
    She clutched at the chain around her neck, pulling the tiny gold cross that hung there back and forth over the links. “I talked to him. I left him alive.” She paused, her right hand continuing to fool with the cross and chain.
    â€œWhat did you talk to him about?”
    She blushed, then murmured, “He caught me.”

    â€œCaught you?”
    â€œHere in the office. I was, we were … I was having sex with one of the teachers here, who’s not married and who wasn’t here Monday night. Jones walked in on us. We had our clothes half off, and I was—” She stopped, gulped, and resumed. “Each of us thought the other had locked the door. It was after school hours. We weren’t hurting anybody. I know I’m living with someone, but …” She shook herself. “I don’t owe you an explanation about that. Anyway, he caught us.”
    â€œWhen was this?”
    â€œLast Friday. He said he’d decide on disciplinary action over the weekend. He wanted to see us in his office after school on Monday. Because he went to the hospital with Bluefield, I had to wait until after the chess club meeting.”
    â€œWhy’d you go by yourself?”
    â€œIt was my fault, my idea. I wanted to have sex here. It added excitement to the whole idea. He was angry that my partner didn’t show up with me.”
    â€œWho was your partner?”
    â€œI’m not going to tell you, now or ever, even if you tell the police. I’m being honest with you as much as I can. I’m hoping you’ll believe me. I can’t believe you’d turn in a fellow teacher.”
    She hadn’t