Tunnel Vision by Brenda Adcock Page B

people our age do manage to have quite healthy personal relationships.”
    “When did your husband disappear, Mrs.
    Brauner?” Maggie asked.
    “Thursday evening, but because Elliott hadn’t been gone forty-eight hours these fools made me wait until Sunday morning before taking a report.”
    Maggie was intrigued by the woman’s
    appearance. She was between fifty and sixty years old, but there were few wrinkles on her face or hands. Her manner, even though she was obviously
    aggravated, was warm and familiar. She was quite tall, about five-ten, and Maggie had to look up to speak to her, which made her feel like a school girl standing repentantly in front of her teacher.
    “I’d be happy to talk with you, ma’am. I’m Detective Maggie Weston.”
    “Helen Brauner,” the woman said extending a hand to Maggie. Her grip was surprising strong, not the limp handshake Maggie had expected from the older woman.
    Maggie led Helen back to her desk and pulled a chair over for her. Nicholls was pulling his jacket on and preparing to leave.
    “Need some help, Maggie?” he asked.
    “No, thanks. I’ve got it, Nicholls.”
    “When you finish up here why don’t you join me at the Super Burger? Cheap food and doesn’t taste half bad either.”
    “Thanks,” she said with a smile. “I’ll take a rain check.”
    Nicholls left Maggie and Helen Brauner alone in the squad room.
    “I don’t have a copy of the missing person reports right now, Mrs. Brauner, so why don’t you just start with Thursday night.”
    “Please, call me Helen. Everyone does,” the woman said. “Even my students.”
    “Okay, Helen. You said your husband
    disappeared Thursday evening.”
    “Yes. Elliott came home on time, but later remembered there were some papers in his office at the university that he needed for Friday.”
    “Your husband is a professor?”
    “We both are. I offered to go with him, but he said he’d only be gone a few minutes. We live over on Maple, a few blocks from the university, near fraternity row.”
    “I’m sorry to interrupt you, Helen, but about what time did he leave?” Maggie asked.
    “Between seven and seven-thirty. Right after dinner. It’s about a fifteen minute walk so he should have been home by eight or eight-fifteen.”
    “He walked to the campus?”
    “We always do. Elliott doesn’t drive. I do, but he likes the company and it gives us a chance to talk on the way to work every morning.”
    “What does your husband teach at the
    university?”
    “Microbiology.”
    “And where is his office located?”
    “In the Biology Building, third floor.”
    Maggie felt her heart skip a beat at the mention of the Biology Building. “I see. And is your office in the same building?”
    “No. I’m in the building next door. Chemistry. My students told me there was a problem in the Biology Building yesterday. Is that true?”
    “Yes, but I’m sure your husband wasn’t involved with that.”
    Helen Brauner looked relieved. “I’m terribly worried about Elliott. This just isn’t like him. I called Tony, but he said he hasn’t seen Elliott. And neither has Malcolm.”
    “And who are they?” Maggie inquired.
    “Tony is Elliott’s graduate assistant. A brilliant student, but a little rough around the edges. Malcolm Roth is another professor in Elliott’s department.”
    “Do you know Tony’s last name?” Maggie asked.
    “Obregon. Antonio Obregon.”
    “What did you mean when you said he was rough around the edges?”
    “Well, it’s just that he doesn’t have many social skills. Has a rather nasty temper, according to Elliott, but such promise.”
    “I see. Do you happen to have a picture of Dr. Brauner?”
    “I thought you might want one.” Helen smiled as she reached for the worn leather shoulder bag resting against the leg of her chair. “I tried to find a recent picture, but this was all I could find.”
    She pulled a Polaroid picture from the bag and handed it to Maggie. It showed Helen