Face of Murder

“Hello?” he said, frowning. It wouldn’t be those FBI girls again, would it? He’d enjoyed going over a puzzle with the smart one, and the other one wasn’t unpleasant to look at, but he’d had enough interrogations to last him a lifetime. Besides, that was where all this discomfort had started, with the sweating and the shakes.

“Professor?”

Wardenford’s mind was blank for a moment, appreciating that the sentiment must indicate a student but unsure about the voice. “It’s just Mr. Wardenford now,” he settled for.

“Sorry, right. It’s Matthias Kranz. I wanted to catch up. If it’s too early, I can go away.”

Matthias Kranz! Now, there was a student. One of the brightest of the bright. Although, hadn’t Wardenford heard through the grapevine that he never did end up taking a place on that program? Maybe he could ask him about it now.

Besides, Matthias had always been a polite and respectful boy. It would be nice to see someone who treated him the way he had been used to, back when he still had the support of the community.

“It’s fine—I’m an early riser at the moment. Please come up.”

After pushing the buzzer to unlock the door several stories below, Wardenford glanced around at the apartment and down at himself. His clothes were fine, if a little informal—the boy was used to seeing him in a suit jacket, not a sweater—but the décor could do with some hasty rearranging. He closed the door to his bedroom to shut out the mess, and did a rapid sweep of the open-plan kitchen, diner, and living area, throwing away empty bottles and takeout cartons. He even threw away a dirty plate in his haste, having far too little time to get it washed up and put away.

The knock on the door came before he was quite done, but it would have to do. An apartment that was too clean, too tidy—well, that smacked of a tidy-up, didn’t it? Better for there to be a few things out of place here and there, to give a lived-in impression. Wardenford caught his breath for a brief moment, before heading over and opening the door.

“Matthias,” he said warming, greeting his former student with a handshake. “How have you been? Come in, come in.”

“I’m well,” Matthias said, in a manner that seemed almost reticent. “You?”

Wardenford thought his lack of verboseness might be down to the awkward feeling of meeting someone one is used to seeing in a position of authority, but was now on level footing. Certainly, he had once been extremely talkative, and they had enjoyed many bright and spirited debates after his classes. In favor of improving his impression, Wardenford decided on the spot to ad lib a little. “Oh, just great, yes. I’ve been keeping myself busy with some consultation work.”

Well, the FBI had asked him for his opinion, hadn’t they?

Matthias sat down silently on the sofa when Wardenford gestured for him to do so, offering a slim smile. These bright kids—it was always hard to tell with them, wasn’t it? They hadn’t spent a great deal of time developing social skills, usually, and so while they were excellent at navigating classes and partnering up for assignments, talking out of class was another thing.

“Would you like a coffee?” Wardenford asked, checking the temperature of the glass and pouring himself a top-up. “It’s fresh-made.”

“Yes, please,” Matthias said, and Wardenford was buoyed by this.

With the two cups steaming on the coffee table and both of the men seated comfortably, Wardenford found that he was going to have to carry the conversation. Matthias had not said anything more. Rather than asking him outright why he had come—a question to which he might not like the answer, particularly if it turned out to deflate his ego—Wardenford decided to take this opportunity to extract any and all gossip he could about his former faculty.

“So, what’s new at Georgetown?”

“People are mostly talking about the bodies.” There was a measured, deliberate way to the way that Matthias spoke now. Like he was choosing each word carefully, and with great effort. What had happened to him…?

“Of course, of course.” Wardenford nodded. “I’m sure there’s a lot of upset about it. Professor Henderson was a much-loved member of the staff.”

“Yes.” Matthias sipped at his coffee, his face largely blank.

“You had lectures with him as well, didn’t you? I seem to recall you mentioning that you were taking some English classes alongside your physics and mathematics.”

Matthias nodded. “I stopped.”

“Oh, well, that’s a shame.” Wardenford paused. “Not for you, necessarily. After all, you can take whichever classes seem best fitted to your needs. I simply mean, I would like to know how things are now. I presume there will be a TA or one of the other members of staff filling in. Have you heard if they have engaged a new lecturer for his position yet?”

Matthias shook his head. “I’m just glad the real killer has been caught.”

One thing about that struck Wardenford as odd, and then as he thought about it more, two things. The “real” killer? Did Matthias know that he had been arrested and spoken to?