Read Online Murder within Murder by Frances Lockridge - Free Book Online

think you have explained it.”
    Bill held him to it. It wasn’t a whim, he pointed out again. He pointed out, also, that they were investigating a case of murder.
    â€œWhy,” Bill said, “did you go to the trouble to hide your identity, Mr. Spencer? Has your identity something to do with the case?”
    Spencer hesitated, clearly making up his mind what to say. Then he said that Weigand might think his identity had something to do with the case.
    â€œI knew Amelia,” he said. “Naturally, I say I had nothing to do with her taking off. But you would expect me to say that.”
    â€œRight,” Bill Weigand said. He waited.
    â€œIt was a very unfortunate coincidence, for me,” Spencer said. “Very unfortunate. I might have been almost any other place. I might have been in the South Reading Room instead of the North Reading Room. It would have made no difference to Amelia, believe me. But oh, the difference to me.”
    Weigand waited.
    â€œI wish you would believe it was entirely a coincidence,” Spencer said. He spoke almost wistfully.
    Still Weigand said nothing. Spencer looked at the detective lieutenant’s face and then he shrugged. They might as well have it, he told them, and waited until Mullins was ready.
    â€œName,” he said. “Philip Spencer. With one ‘1.’ Philip Spencer, Ph.D. Age, 43. Occupation, former associate professor of English at Ward College, Rushton, Indiana. Dismissed for unbecoming conduct with one of the students—one of the girls. Because a spiteful little fool told a lot of lies to a spiteful old bitch who—” He broke off. He smiled, and the smile was contorted. He began again.
    â€œToo much coincidence,” he said. “Even for me. And yet it’s true. The girl, who I swear misunderstood something which was entirely innocent, went to Miss Amelia Gipson—Gipson with a p , mind you—who was head of the Latin Department and also a sort of unofficial censor of morals. And Amelia went to the president of the school, who was a friend of mine but not—well, not that good a friend. Understandable—the school was all he had. It had to be above suspicion. Well—I wasn’t. So he had to let me go. He was as, quiet about it as he could be—as decent. But Amelia saw the word got around.”
    He paused and looked off at nothing.
    â€œSchools are touchy,” he said. “Big schools and little schools. Faculty members of girls’ colleges who are suspected of—molesting—their charges don’t find it easy to get jobs. And teachers in their forties—just good enough teachers—don’t find it easy to get other jobs.”
    He looked at Mullins. He asked Mullins if he was getting it all. Mullins said, “Yeah.”
    â€œI was married,” he said. “My wife was not in good health. Possibly that is one of the reasons I had remained at Ward; because of the security. My wife died about six months after I—left the faculty. Our living conditions weren’t what they had been and, as I said, she was not in good health. I have been somewhat—somewhat detached from life ever since. I had even almost forgotten Amelia until I saw her at the library last night. You will hardly believe that, but it’s true. I heard she had also left the faculty. It seems there were—other cases. Rather like mine, except that in the end she seems to have been imagining them. She made one or two mistakes—imagined one or two impossibilities, I suppose—and the head suggested that she leave.”
    Spencer was silent for a moment, regarding the past as if it were in the room.
    â€œThere was a suggestion that I might return to Ward after Amelia left,” he said, at length, quietly. “It seemed rather late. Rather too late.”
    He stopped speaking again and this time he did not resume. Weigand waited and after a time asked whether that was all of