Read Online Witness by Susan Page Davis - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Susan Page Davis
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Kennebec County. Smart, earnest kid who served as a counselor at a camp for handicapped children, then joined the National Guard. Double degree in archaeology and anthropology. Taught at a private college in Indiana, then returned to Maine. Took a trip to Crete a decade ago to take part in an archaeological expedition. Summer digs at various spots in North America. He’d led another in Mali three years back, after which he wrote articles for glossy magazines on ancient history and the archaeological dig experience.
Joe lifted his mug and realized it was empty again. Might as well check into Harwood’s teaching career at the two colleges. Maybe he could get an inkling of his financial situation.
An hour later he leaned back in his chair, eyeing his computer screen with a frown. It seemed likely that Harwood took a cut in pay to teach at the University of Southern Maine, but the school allowed him a flexible schedule for writing, speaking engagements and professional travel. Probably a good trade-off for someone in Harwood’s line. Not the most prestigious school in the country, but it enabled him to be a minor celebrity in his field and go off on Indiana Jones jaunts. He had a trip to Morocco scheduled for July and August.
Joe reached for the phone. A call to the academic dean’s office at U.S.M. told him Professor Harwood was limiting his speaking engagements at present, but could be reached at his office on campus. Of course, the professor would be abroad on an archaeological expedition the latter part of the summer.
“Well, I’d like to hear him speak sometime,” Joe said. “Up here in Waterville, we’re always looking for something different, and I understand the professor used to live up this way. Kind of a hometown boy.”
“I wouldn’t know about that,” the dean’s secretary said. “However, his schedule fills quickly, since he’s so busy, and if he becomes department head—”
“Oh, he’s going to get a promotion?”
After a slight pause, the secretary said, “Professor Harwood is close to receiving his Ph.D., and he’s very busy working on his dissertation. Let’s just say his name is on the short list for head of the archaeology department.”
“Contingent on the Ph.D.?” Joe asked.
“Are you…you’re not a reporter, are you?”
“No, ma’am, just curious.”
When Joe hung up, he reached for the phone again. Harwood had a lot to lose, and he was planning to leave the country in a few weeks on an extended trip. Time to call in the cavalry.
He had Portland Detective Nick Wyatt’s private number on speed dial. Joe couldn’t see trying to keep too many numbers floating around in his head when he had more important things to think of.
“Hey, Nick, you got a minute?”
“Sure. What’s up?”
Joe smiled. Even though they seldom saw each other and it had been fifteen years since they’d worked together, Nick was always ready to help him. Joe felt the same way. He’d canceled a date to go and help Nick once, and his girlfriend had broken up with him because of it. Well, not just because of that, but she’d fussed and fumed and told him it was the last straw. She’d planned a dinner with her parents for weeks, and she’d changed the date twice because he’d taken on a time-consuming surveillance case. Then Nick called with an urgent request. He knew Nick would not say “urgent” if it weren’t life or death. But some women didn’t understand a relationship like that between guys. Joe had called a moratorium on dating since that episode.
“I wondered if you could do me a small favor,” he said to Nick.
“If it’s legal.”
“Yeah, sure. Could you pull up the police report on a complaint filed a couple of weeks ago by a Miss Petra Wilson of Acton Street?”
“Is this a case you’re working on?”
“Yeah. She’s my client.”
“Well, I’ll have to get back to you later, when I have a chance to check the computer.”
“Sure. Call me anytime at my office
Joe lifted his mug and realized it was empty again. Might as well check into Harwood’s teaching career at the two colleges. Maybe he could get an inkling of his financial situation.
An hour later he leaned back in his chair, eyeing his computer screen with a frown. It seemed likely that Harwood took a cut in pay to teach at the University of Southern Maine, but the school allowed him a flexible schedule for writing, speaking engagements and professional travel. Probably a good trade-off for someone in Harwood’s line. Not the most prestigious school in the country, but it enabled him to be a minor celebrity in his field and go off on Indiana Jones jaunts. He had a trip to Morocco scheduled for July and August.
Joe reached for the phone. A call to the academic dean’s office at U.S.M. told him Professor Harwood was limiting his speaking engagements at present, but could be reached at his office on campus. Of course, the professor would be abroad on an archaeological expedition the latter part of the summer.
“Well, I’d like to hear him speak sometime,” Joe said. “Up here in Waterville, we’re always looking for something different, and I understand the professor used to live up this way. Kind of a hometown boy.”
“I wouldn’t know about that,” the dean’s secretary said. “However, his schedule fills quickly, since he’s so busy, and if he becomes department head—”
“Oh, he’s going to get a promotion?”
After a slight pause, the secretary said, “Professor Harwood is close to receiving his Ph.D., and he’s very busy working on his dissertation. Let’s just say his name is on the short list for head of the archaeology department.”
“Contingent on the Ph.D.?” Joe asked.
“Are you…you’re not a reporter, are you?”
“No, ma’am, just curious.”
When Joe hung up, he reached for the phone again. Harwood had a lot to lose, and he was planning to leave the country in a few weeks on an extended trip. Time to call in the cavalry.
He had Portland Detective Nick Wyatt’s private number on speed dial. Joe couldn’t see trying to keep too many numbers floating around in his head when he had more important things to think of.
“Hey, Nick, you got a minute?”
“Sure. What’s up?”
Joe smiled. Even though they seldom saw each other and it had been fifteen years since they’d worked together, Nick was always ready to help him. Joe felt the same way. He’d canceled a date to go and help Nick once, and his girlfriend had broken up with him because of it. Well, not just because of that, but she’d fussed and fumed and told him it was the last straw. She’d planned a dinner with her parents for weeks, and she’d changed the date twice because he’d taken on a time-consuming surveillance case. Then Nick called with an urgent request. He knew Nick would not say “urgent” if it weren’t life or death. But some women didn’t understand a relationship like that between guys. Joe had called a moratorium on dating since that episode.
“I wondered if you could do me a small favor,” he said to Nick.
“If it’s legal.”
“Yeah, sure. Could you pull up the police report on a complaint filed a couple of weeks ago by a Miss Petra Wilson of Acton Street?”
“Is this a case you’re working on?”
“Yeah. She’s my client.”
“Well, I’ll have to get back to you later, when I have a chance to check the computer.”
“Sure. Call me anytime at my office
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