Catch a Falling Knife

professor.”
    Mrs. Hoffman went into the kitchen to make some coffee.
    “I’m a retired professor,” I said. “I met Elise after we talked last week. She was a lovely young lady.”
    Mr. Hoffman choked back what sounded like a sob and couldn’t talk for a few seconds so I continued, “We had a nice chat.”
    “What day was that again?” Mr. Hoffman asked.
    What should I say? I couldn’t lie because, after all, I was part of a murder investigation and anything I said could be used against me. “It was Wednesday, I believe,” I said, as if I had just remembered.
    “The day she was killed.”
    “In the afternoon.” Meaning not in the evening.
    “You were going to get her to help you talk to other girls at the college about why they shouldn’t become strippers.”
    There was nothing wrong with his memory. Mrs. Hoffman brought in a tray containing coffee paraphernalia and cookies. We went through the ritual of pouring coffee and adding cream and sugar—although I drink my coffee black—while I tried to plot my strategy. After a couple of bites of a sugar cookie I decided I should get to the point.
    “I owe you an apology. I didn’t level with you last week. When I came here I was actually trying to track down Elise because of…well, because of the sexual harassment charge she made.” That was as close to the truth as I could get without saying I had suspected Elise of being the Shooting Star.
    Their expressions were pained, as if this was one just more thing they had to cope with.
    “We never knew about that…before,” Mrs. Hoffman said. “She never told us.”
    “What is your connection to the harassment thing?” Mr. Hoffman asked in a guarded manner.
    I had gone this far. “I’m a friend of Dr. Pappas.”
    They both looked stunned.
    “But he’s the man who killed her,” Mrs. Hoffman blurted.
    “He harassed her,” Mr. Hoffman added. “If he ever shows his face here I’ll let Monster loose on him.”
    My minutes here were numbered unless I could make a breakthrough. I said, “When I talked to Elise she told me she was sorry that she had filed the charge. And then she left me a message for me saying that she was going to withdraw it.”
    “But why would she do that?” Mr. Hoffman asked. “My baby wouldn’t accuse anybody falsely.” He grasped his cane and looked as if he was about to get up.
    “Your daughter and Dr. Pappas are both good people,” I said, hastily. “I can assure you about Dr. Pappas because I’ve known him for quite a while. They are also both charismatic and attractive people. It’s not inconceivable that they were attracted to each other. In a case like that, a professor and a student, things can get confusing. Elise may have gotten confused.”
    “Are you insinuating that Elise was agreeable to whatever happened between them?” Mr. Hoffman leaned forward on his cane. “She’s engaged to another fellow.”
    “She’s not engaged to him yet,” Mrs. Hoffman said. And more softly, “Now, she’ll never be engaged to anybody.”
    “I don’t know exactly what happened between them,” I said. “We’ll probably never know. But I can tell you this: Dr. Pappas did not kill Elise. He was lost on Mt. Mitchell when she died.”
    “I read that cock-and-bull story in the newspaper,” Mrs. Hoffman said. “He’s got no witnesses. And his face was scratched. How did he explain that?”
    The local newspaper had found out about Mark and done an article on him. “Elise didn’t scratch him,” I said. “He fell on the mountain. There was no skin under her fingernails and they had not been broken. They had fresh nail polish on them.” I had read the newspapers too. “Look, we can help each other because we want the same thing. We both want to find out who killed your daughter.”
    “Whether or not he actually killed her, if you’re representing a rapist, I want you out of this house,” Mr. Hoffman said, straining to rise from his chair.
    “Sit down, Eric.”
    The sharpness of the command caused Mr. Hoffman to fall back into his chair. He and I both looked at Mrs. Hoffman.
    “Getting rid of the professor won’t make the problem go away,” she continued. “She’s right; we want to see justice done. If she can help with that we should support her.”
    “Call me Lillian,” I said.
    “I’m June. He’s Eric.”
    “Let me tell you what I know. I’ll try not to gild the lily. Something happened between Elise and Dr. Pappas and she filed a charge of