Read Online Death in an Ivory Tower (Dotsy Lamb Travel Mysteries) by Maria Hudgins - Free Book Online

wide-eyed, with the pillow scrunched in her lap.
    “But why, Dotsy? Why do you think there’s something else to it?”
    “Why do you think there’s something wrong with Lindsey?”
    “Okay, okay. But hypoglycemia sounds reasonable, considering how you say he was acting last night.”
    “I agree. But the timing’s wrong and there’s something else. Something I saw. Maybe something someone—Daphne or Mi-gnon—said.”
    “Woman’s intuition?”
    “I don’t believe in woman’s intuition. You know that.”
    “Do you know about Daphne Wetmore’s sister?” Lettie said in an abrupt change of subject.
    “Her sister? I’ve heard her mention a sister, but no. What about her?”
    “She’s like royalty or something. She’s married to a lord, so that makes her a lady.”
    “That’s not royalty. That’s nobility. Royalty means you’re related to the queen.”
    “Whatever. Lindsey was talking about her. Daphne’s sister, Lady Whoever.” Lettie put her hand up alongside her mouth as if she were whispering a secret to me but she wasn’t whispering. “Lindsey told me she was always in the news. There was a huge horse-racing scandal. She owns horses. And her husband, the lord, bought an island in the Caribbean somewhere, but there’s a problem with his taxes and the government and all. And some girl who was staying with him on the island drowned. And there are those who say it wasn’t an accident.”
    “Hold on! What sort of horse-racing scandal?”
    “Lindsey didn’t say.”
    “What sort of tax problem?”
    She shrugged.
    “Who was this girl? Was she like a mistress or just a friend?”
    “I’m just telling you what Lindsey told me. She didn’t go into any details.”
    This sounded fascinating, but Lettie needed to sleep and I needed to see how my fellow conferees were reacting to the death of their afternoon speaker.
    People were milling around the West Quad lawn when I got there. Claudia’s speech was over and tea was being served. Heads turned as I stepped through the archway, and several hands caught my arms as I walked across the grass searching for Claudia. I wanted to tell her I was sorry I’d missed her talk. Apparently it was obvious I’d come from the area where, they’d just learned, Bram Fitzwaring had died.
    “What happened?”
    “Were you there?”
    “Who called the ambulance?”
    “Is the, er, the ambulance still here?”
    I answered all their questions because there seemed no reason to be obscure about it. Nothing was amiss, at least as far as I or anyone else actually knew. Bram, an overweight diabetic, had died in his sleep. Everyone’s assumption, including my own, was that there would be an autopsy and we might or might not learn what it revealed. How sad it was that a human being’s death so often elicited a few gasps of surprise, a few kind but perfunctory remarks like,
I feel so bad for his family
and
he’s in a better place now,
followed quickly by a return to business as usual. In this case business as usual was, “Milk please. No sugar.”
    I couldn’t find Claudia Moss but I did find Larry Roberts, who grabbed my elbow and pinched it between his thumb and middle finger. He pulled me away from the knot of people in front of the tea table. His hand on my arm felt shaky.
    “Tell me what happened.”
    I pulled his hand off my elbow with my free hand. “Mignon—his companion, you know—found him. She went to his room because it was noon and she thought he was still asleep, but he wasn’t. He was dead.” I repeated the whole story much as I had told it to Lettie.
    “Bummer. Are they sure it was low blood sugar? Did he take insulin?”
    “Yes. In fact, I saw his used syringes in an old plastic water bottle.”
    “Have you had . . . ? Of course, you haven’t had tea yet.” He glanced down at my empty hands. “Hey. I’d rather have tea at the Randolph. Come with me. We can talk.”
    Larry, rather than staying in one of the college rooms, was staying at the