Third Degree (A Murder 101 Mystery)

breath; the dorm wasn’t going to be very safe with a guy who slept through an entire apartment of furniture being removed on his watch. “My name is Alison Bergeron and I teach in the English department. If you see Father McManus, would you please tell him that I need to speak to him right away?”
    The new RD, far younger than I was when I did the job last spring, and probably more suited to the position as well, grabbed a notepad and jotted down the information, sticking it in the mail slot next to his desk that held the residents’ mail. “Sure thing.” A look of surprise crossed his face. “Oh, you’re Dr. Bergeron!” he said.
    I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Around these parts, I’m never sure.
    “I replaced you as RD!” he said, his demeanor changing. He stood up and shook my hand. “Cal Johnson,” he said. “Nice to meet you.”
    “Nice to meet you, too.” I wiped my hand across my brow, now in a complete sweat after running down the stairs. “Are you sure you haven’t seen Father McManus?”
    “I haven’t. But I’ll let him know that you’re looking for him if I see him.” He smiled broadly. “Any secrets to doing this job well?” he asked, so sincere and earnest that it almost broke my heart. The job stunk; you were a combination babysitter slash house sitter slash den mother to a group of coeducational infants who were randy, horny, and loved to acquire booze any way they could to bring onto this “dry” campus. Oh, and don’t forget the pot. They loved that, too.
    “Just …” I started, at a loss. But I came up with something quickly if only to give this guy the idea that he had just landed the best job on the planet. “Just make sure you keep all the doors locked and have everyone sign in and out, just like the handbook says.”
    “I’m really psyched for this job. I was a psych major at Joliet and always loved this campus, so this is a great opportunity for me.”
    “Calm down, Cal, you’ve already got the job,” I said, laughing.
    He smiled. “Sorry. I am just really excited to have a job.” He quickly corrected himself. “ This job.”
    “Well, good luck.”
    He held his hand out again to shake. “Hey, do you think you’d be able to grab a cup of coffee sometime so we can talk about the job? I’d love any additional insight you might have so that I can hit the ground running.”
    You might think that I’ve lived in a cave my entire life but that isn’t the case. But Cal sure looked like it was when I looked at him sadly and said, “Oh, Cal, I have a boyfriend.” I probably have the least “game” of anyone I know, and that was woefully apparent as I took in Cal’s pitying face as he stared at me and stammered to come up with a response. It then dawned on me that, yes, Cal just wanted to have a cup of coffee to talk about the job. He wasn’t asking me on a date. I wasn’t a panther, or a lemur, or a gazelle—what was it they called older women with hot, younger men anyway?—but a pathetic excuse for a middle-aged college professor. I wanted to say, “You should have seen me yesterday in my ripped dress and dingy bra. Now, that’s some kind of sexy.”
    “Dr. Bergeron—” he started.
    I held up a hand. “Forget I said that. Yes, I would love to have coffee with you. To discuss the job.”
    But I had scared Cal sufficiently and he backed off. “It’s okay. I’m sure I’ll learn as I go.” He picked up the handbook and returned to reviewing the rules regarding a dry campus.
    I was so embarrassed that I forgot why I had even come to the dorm. Right. Kevin. I reminded Cal that I needed to talk to Kevin and I skulked back toward the front door. If I had a tail—and given the distaste on Cal’s gorgeous face, I wasn’t sure I didn’t—it would have been between my legs.
    I went back to my office and sat dejectedly at my desk, worried about Kevin, wondering when my black eye would go away, and fiddling with my Ace bandage. The queasy feeling that I had been fighting for the past few days was back with a vengeance and I took a sip of water from the aluminum bottle on my desk and made a face; it was warm and made me feel queasier, if that was possible. Kevin was gone, his apartment was empty, and he hadn’t let me know where he was going. I thought back to our conversation the day before and remembered that he was going to see Etheridge after we caught up on our summers. Did I have the nerve to go upstairs and demand an