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People around the room sighed quietly in relief.
    The last person seated on the right side of the table tersely introduced herself as Dr. Rowlina Roth-Holtzmann. The Germanic accent was still strong but less strident. Her hairstyle was Edith Head, complete with bangs and a jet-black dye job. Nobody her age, which was mid-fifties, has hair that color. In fact nobody of any age has hair that color. It looked like the tip of a black magic marker. Her face was powdered white and she was thin as a stick and hunched up like a crab. Rowlina Roth-Holtzmann looked like the kind of person who'd always feel cold. She was still wearing her coat, though it was unbuttoned. It was very dark gray wool and way too big for her.
    "Between 4:00 PM and 5:00 PM tomorrow I have time. I am not free after 5:00 PM. My office is in the Architectural Design building, of which department I am the Chair. The building is called also Fenton Hall."
    While everyone was looking at Rowlina Roth-Holtzmann, I stole a look at Jimmy Harmon. I'd heard he was a kind, sweet and a bit wacky guy. But at this minute he had an expression that would sour chocolate milk and it was aimed at me. Scowling there in his odd clothing and flaming red hair he looked like a bad dream circus clown. Since no one was watching me but him, I stuck my tongue out at him. His demeanor changed immediately into a silent horse laugh, which was charming, but a dramatic mood swing.
    Jimmy Harmon's pale skin would sunburn in a second, even faster than mine. His black-rimmed Buddy Holly glasses looked cool on him, but his nose was runny. He didn't seem sick though. I wondered if Harmon was a nose candy connoisseur.
    He sniffed and said unnecessarily, "I'm James Harmon, the Head of Music History. My office is in the Music History Building. You'll probably want to see Carl's office, so let's go over there after this meeting. We can talk and you can see the scene of the cri..." He stopped, looking sincerely shocked. He shook his head mumbling, "Shit, I'm sorry."
    I said, "OK, Mr. Harmon, we can do that. Thank you."
    Dr. Amanda Knightbridge was next around the table from Jimmy Harmon, watching him with obvious maternal concern. Yet there was a transcendental depth in her eyes. As her expression faded into polite attention I flashed on seeing her in the summer, tending the Mews' Rose Garden, decked out in an elaborate gardening hat and smock. I'd imagined she was just a neighborhood character who didn't have anything better to do than pick Japanese beetles off American Beauties, but according to the list, Dr. Amanda Knightbridge was the Chair of Irwin College's Art and Architecture History Department.
    She said simply, "Thursday at 10:30 AM? My office is in Clymer Hall, that's 320 College Street." But there was an intensity about her that briefly filled the room. She nodded once, then focused on Georgia Smith, who was next along the table.
    In her mid-30s, Dr. Smith was younger than the others. She'd slipped off her winter jacket and put it in the chair next to her, then taken off a wool hat and patted her Dorothy Hamill wedge hairstyle into place. She was wearing a functional beige colored wash-n-go polyester suit, which contrasted in style to the yin-yang pendant and woven feather Indian necklace she was wearing around her neck. She also had uncut crystal earrings that dangled almost to her shoulders.
    Up until this moment, Georgia Smith had been intently reading over the copy of Carl Rasmus's suicide note. When she felt the attention in the room shift to her, she looked up. Her eyes were shining. "Karmetic sign..." she murmured touching her feather necklace. Not everyone was close enough to hear her; Amanda Knightbridge put her hand on the young woman's arm. Georgia Smith focused, said she was the Assistant Dean who coordinated Freshman Studies, then flipped open her electronic calendar and offered Thursday at 10:00 AM as the first time she had free.
    "I have freshman conferences every half hour,"