Evanly Bodies - By Rhys Bowen Page 0,30

in the world, I'm afraid; but I'm sure he's a good policeman, or he'd never have been given the job," Evan said.

"No? In our world, inadequacy on the job results in being shoved upstairs," she said dryly.

"In your particular department?" Evan asked.

"Well, no, I wasn't trying to infer . . ." She was flustered now, playing with the long, knitted scarf she wore today. "Martin Rogers-well, he knew his subject all right. He was quite a lively lecturer. But he only got the professorship because he was a man, and it's all old-boys together, as usual. He was at school with members of the board, you know. But he knew nothing about Welsh history, which, after all, is what the department should be all about."

Evan let her trail off into silence. After a moment she shifted uncomfortably and said, "That doesn't imply that I resented him enough to want him dead. I was actually quite fond of Martin in my way."

And she blushed again.

"You must have had time to think about his death by now," Evan said. "And maybe you've come up with your own suspicions. Can you think of anybody at all who might have wanted Martin Rogers dead?"

She hesitated for a while. "Martin wasn't always an easy man," she said slowly. "We've each had our little run-ins with him over the years. I've had to fight for increased visibility for the Welsh side of the department. Paul Jenkins clashed with him immediately upon his arrival over politics. Paul's a rabid socialist you see, and Martin was staunchly conservative. Martin sat in on Paul's first lectures and accused him of coloring history with his own brand of politics. Hot words were exchanged over freedom of speech."

"And the others?" Evan asked. "Dr. Rhys Thomas? Sloan?"

"Olive has managed to glide under Martin's radar so far. She's definitely the type of person who avoids conflict at all costs. But Rhys Thomas-Martin accused him of plagiarism in an article he published. Sparks flew about that."

"How long ago was that?"

"Last academic year."

"And David Skinner?"

"Poor old David. He's too meek and mild to stand up to anybody. Martin walked all over him-swapped his classes around, downplayed the findings at his dig."

"And what about the other chap out at the dig? Badger something?"

"Brock. Dr. Ernest Brock. They nicknamed him Badger. Well yes, Martin couldn't stand him and, in fact, has been trying to get rid of him. Dr. Brock's a good man actually. Enthusiastic. The students like him. But he's hopelessly messy and undisciplined. He has cardboard boxes stacked with potentially valuable finds. His records are so fuzzy that nobody but he can understand them. Martin was the world's neatest human being, so naturally Brock drove him mad."

"If he was trying to get rid of Brock, might that not have provided a good motive for murder?"

She burst out laughing. "Dear me, no. If you knew Badger . . . he took great delight in baiting Martin. If anything it would have been the other way around. I'd have believed that Martin might have taken a potshot at Badger." Then she shook her head violently so that her long earrings danced. "This is all ridiculous. Of course we argued from time to time. Of course there were hurt feelings and thoughtless things said. But nobody decides to murder another human being for those reasons."

Evan nodded. "I tend to agree with you," he said.

Dr. Humphries started to gather up papers. "I really have to go," she said, "I lecture on the Black Death at ten. It's one of my most popular classes. Amazing how ghoulish the young are, isn't it?"

"Speaking of the young"-Evan followed her out into the hall-"what about students? Can you think of one of them who might have had a particular grievance against Professor Rogers?"

"Not that I know of. Students have always got some kind of grievance, but I'd have heard if it was anything big. They are not shy about expressing their opinions these days, you know."

"Tell me one more thing." They were almost at the front door now. "Was Professor Rogers one for the ladies? What did the female students think of him?"

"Martin was-could be-very charming." She paused to toss her scarf over her shoulder. "He was, however, devoted to his wife. And you'd never have found him making a grab for a female student. Such behavior was just not in his character. I really have to go now." And she fled.

Again there was just the hint of embarrassment. Had she and Martin